Wrath of Axia (The Arcadian Jihad) (9 page)

“Admiral Rusal, get down on the ground!”

Rusal dived. He’d been in enough firefights not to need to be told twice. The heavy laser cannon on the back of the truck opened fire and swept across the SB troops. They were blown apart like leaves in a strong wind. When the cannon ceased fire there were only corpses lying on the ground. Blas jumped back across to their transport. Evelyn was slumped over the breach of the weapon with tears in her eyes. Xerxes Tell was next to her. He’d acted as her gun crew, helping her to bring the heavy cannon into action.

“Constantine, I killed them, all of those men.

“And they would have killed me, my darling. Thank you for saving my life.”

Rusal stood at the back of the transport. “We need to get moving. This action may have attracted some unwelcome attention.”

Karn came around from the cab. “There’s no way we’re going anywhere in this. It’s finished.”

“In that case, we’ll take the armored vehicle. They won’t need it anymore,” Blas said. “After this, they’ll be hunting us down like dogs, so we need to get off this planet and get to Cadmus.”

They all looked at a dust cloud that had appeared. It was coming from behind them, from Peria.

“Karn, can you drive one of these things?”

“No problem at all.”

“Let’s go, then!”

System Standard 2734.1631 Battlecruiser Victorious, above Axis Nova

The President of the Nine Systems, Fabian Bartok, surveyed his domain. His ship, the Super Heavy Battlecruiser Victorious, had been refitted since the defeat of the Axians. The President had specified a new interior design, building on the already luxurious accommodation to make it fit for the most powerful person in the Nine Systems. Everything was of the very finest wood, leather and precious metals. The ship was a statement of the power and prestige of his office. As befitted the President, his chair, almost a couch, occupied the most important, central position on a raised plinth. From there he could look down on everything and everybody. And they could look up at him. He checked the display screens and satisfied himself that his escort was flying in correct formation. There’d been more than one attempt on his life, and not everyone was happy with his government. Well, they weren’t supposed to be happy. All they had to do was to keep working. He’d even had to assign some of his personal guards to form part of the crew on this ship, and if any crewman objected the orders were straightforward. Kill them. He recalled the old saying, ‘you don’t make an omelet without breaking eggs’. How quaint, and how true. He’d broken plenty of eggs and there’d be plenty more to break before he was totally secure. In front of his plinth was Senior Captain Vis Deckermann, formerly Rad Bose’s second in command and totally loyal to his President. That was as it should be. They were returning to Axis Nova after a diplomatic tour of Corazon, where they were building a new Presidential palace, one of many he was building throughout his domains. His secretary came on the bridge and stood waiting for an audience. The man irritated him, and he wondered if he should get rid of him. But the decision he arrived at was just like before, for Glekka knew all the dirty little secrets that went with the office of President. What kind of name was that, ‘Glekka’, he wondered? Why didn’t he have a surname like everyone else? But the damnable man was useful, so he’d have to keep him for now. He’d served two previous administrations in a more junior position and had assured President Bartok of his unswerving loyalty. As well he might, if he wanted to keep his head.

“Well, Glekka, what is it? How are things progressing on Hesperia?”

“There are mixed signals from the planet, President Bartok. The population continues to dwindle. Soon the natives will be wiped out completely, except for a carefully monitored few who will be kept under strict control for the purposes of harvesting the burlash crop. There is always a need for servants, too. We’ll make sure that there are enough left to carry out those manual tasks that are beneath the dignity of your subjects.”

“Good, good. Those damnable Hesperians could be a thorn in our sides. With them out of the way and their planet put to better uses, it solves a lot of our problems at one stroke. Are the Bose brothers paying the fifty percent commission from the plantations into my accounts?”

“They are, Sire.”

Bartok felt a flash of irritation. The unctuous Glekka insisted on using the honorific, as if he was already Emperor. Still, it did feel good, very good. Perhaps one day?

“And the hunting reserves, how are they progressing?”

“Very well, Sire. The lodges are under construction and we have completed the first stage of importing the Galuppi birds. But the Hesperians are a problem. Some of the natives report that the birds have stolen young children and babies, and they say the birds are too dangerous to let loose on the planet. There’s talk of revolt.”

Bartok grimaced. “There’s an old saying, Glekka. ‘Get rid of the man, get rid of the problem’. I trust you take my meaning.”

“Yes, Sire, I will accelerate the population ‘resettlement’ programme.”

Bartok looked around his bridge again and then back to Glekka. The man still lingered, so what in space could he want now?

“Was there something else?”

“Er, yes, there is, Sire.”

“Well? What is it? Is it something to do with Hesperia?”

Glekka nodded. Bartok sighed, always that damned planet. How could one flyspeck of a world cause him so much trouble? He couldn’t wait for the time when it was resettled, a euphemism that Glekka had dreamed up as more palatable for the population than ‘exterminated’. The Hesperians were trouble, always had been and always would be.

“What is it, what has happened now?”

“Er, a prisoner had escaped, Sire. You may recall that there was a madman who claimed to be Xerxes Tell. Ridiculous, I know, but he could cause problems if enough people believed him.”

The President felt a lurch in his stomach. He’d heard about it the day before, this escaped prisoner had appeared out of nowhere, insisting that he was the rightful President of the Nine Systems. Already, word was spreading on Hesperia. His advisors said that he should be killed so that there could never be the possibility of anyone harboring any doubt. Others had opposed such a drastic step. They were fearful that if by some miracle President Tell had survived, and then died a mysterious death for the second time, there would be too many awkward questions to answer. The finger would point in one direction. After all, regicide, killing the President, was still a capital crime, and there would be no mercy this time. But it was ridiculous. He’d seen the man die with his own eyes. How could this impostor be Xerxes Tell? Even so, some people were worried. The Bose brothers were especially concerned, Grand Admiral Rad Bose and his brother, Pieter Bose, commander of Security Bureau on Hesperia. Why were they so anxious about a mad impostor, it took him by surprise when he heard? Surely the man was an impostor? What did they know that he didn’t? He’d need to find out after they’d caught this lunatic.

“So they were stupid enough to allow him to escape?”

Glekka nodded. “Yes, Sire.”

“I am returning to my quarters, Glekka. Come with me.”

The President walked the short distance from the bridge to the opulent Presidential Suite on legs that felt like rubber. He’d poisoned his way to power, so he was well aware what shifting sands the seat of ultimate power could rest upon. He lay down on the bed while his secretary stood at a respectful distance.

“I won’t ask how it happened, but there’ll be an investigation to discover who showed such poor judgment. Someone is going to lose their head. I made it quite clear that under no circumstances should this man be allowed to escape, did I not? Even though his claim is ridiculous.”

“You did, Sire. We will discover who is responsible, never fear.”

“They will wish they were never born. What is being done to recapture him?”

“The entire garrison of Hesperia is on maximum alert, and every available man is searching for him. He will be found, without doubt.”

The President pondered how best to deal with the situation.

“Despite him being an impostor, he could cause us huge problems if people believe him, Glekka. It would be best for us all if he met with an accident when he is recaptured. Where is Rad Bose at present?”

“He is on Hesperia right now, Sire. He went there for a routine inspection. I understand he was taking the opportunity to remove Admiral Quentin Rusal from his position as head of the planet’s military. Of course, now that the search for this prisoner is under way, Grand Admiral Bose will remain on Hesperia to direct the troops of the Security Bureau. Apparently, they are searching for other fugitives, too. The Admiral seems to have joined a group of Hesperian smugglers.”

Bartok grunted with frustration. There was much more to this than he was being told. Smugglers? What was going on?

“Glekka, find out what activities Admiral Rusal was involved in on the planet.”

 
“I’ll check the records now, Sire. One moment.”

He went to the console in the President’s quarters and punched in a code. His hands flew over the keys as he accessed the President’s records of all movements of the System’s citizens, every single one. Provided, of course, that official channels were used.

“The Admiral invited someone named Constantine Blas to Hesperia as his guest, Sire. Blas is visiting the planet with his partner Evelyn Gluck.” His voice trailed off. Then he caught his breath. “Sire, I believe that Evelyn Gluck is the Orphexian daughter of Merca Gluck, the former President who died at the end of the last war. My God! Evelyn Gluck!”

“Indeed, Glekka. She joined the rebels during that war. It’s a lethal combination. Rusal, Blas and Evelyn Gluck, and all of them are on the home planet of the rebel Berg Smetana. On that same planet is a prisoner making false claims to the Presidency. This could ruin us all if they get away with it. It’s a conspiracy, Glekka, that’s what it is. It is no coincidence that this has all happened at once, is it?”

“No, Sire, it seems not.”

“Send five divisions of our best troops to Hesperia, Glekka. Heavy equipment, armor, and whatever they need. I want them to peel off the surface of that planet layer by layer. Order them to kill anyone who gets in their way and FIND THAT PRISONER! I WANT HIM DEAD!”

His voice had risen to a scream, shrill and high pitched. Strange, Glekka thought, the President of the Nine Systems was terrified of an escaped prisoner. There was something more to this, and information was power.

“Sire, exactly what does this prisoner know that could damage you? If I knew, I could perhaps help to mitigate its effects.”

“The only mitigation I want is to see that man’s body on a slab. See to it, Glekka.”

“Yes, Sire. At once.”

System Standard 2734.1633 Tulum City, Planet Hesperia

Karn Vansen steered the armored transport through the narrow streets of Tulum. Though not as ancient as Peria, the city had still been built hundred of years before humankind developed the larger vehicles that needed wider streets to drive through. Rusal was too well known in the city, so he’d suggested that Blas wear the tunic and cap of the Security Bureau vehicle commander to disguise himself, and to ride openly in the commander’s turret. Blas ordered a halt and dropped down into the cabin to discuss their next move. Rusal had still not received the code on his communicator that would indicate what arrangements had been made for them to commandeer a transport.

“Frankly, I’m worried,” he exclaimed. “Ban Cantar should have had access to that information long before now. They always plan ship’s movements well in advance, so there could be something wrong.”

“You think he could have been arrested?” Blas asked.

“It’s possible, although I’m doubtful. Ban is very careful about whom he talks to, and they’d have no reason to think he was anything but loyal. It’s probably some kind of a security alert.”

“They know he was your adjutant,” Evelyn pointed out.

“Yes, that’s true. I suggest we abandon the vehicle and go on foot to the spaceport. If there’s no message from Ban by midnight, we’ll have to take a chance and try to steal a ship to get us off the planet.”

They walked through the city streets, watchful for patrols. Each of them had a hand on their laser pistols. If they ran into any SB troopers, they’d need to shoot their way out of trouble. Any kind of document check would result in a hue and cry. Under their coats they each carried a laser rifle and two grenades stuffed into their pockets. Evelyn had bought an ethnic hat from a street stall, a brightly patterned affair with a plaited string decoration around the edge of brim. She gave it to Tell to cover his head as a disguise. When he caught sight of himself in a pane of glass he made to tear it off his head but Evelyn stopped him.

“I look ridiculous in this thing,” he complained. “Like a country yokel.”

“That is exactly the effect I’m trying to achieve. Better that than an escaped prisoner.”

He nodded. “Very well. But as soon as we get somewhere safe, it comes off.”

“Nowhere on Hesperia is safe, Sir. Keep it on until we’re off the planet,” Evelyn replied tartly. “After that you can burn it if you wish.”