Sigil of the Wolf - 28. Chapter 28

R-403 - Ordinance Depot A-IX, Amsus Hegemony

General Riley gripped onto the cargo webbing as the Raptor shot skywards again. It wasn't a glamorous take off, but then, he wasn't complaining; anything that got him out of the middle of the Amsus.

The vivacious Commander walked back across the heaving deck, slinging the Amsus VLR-01, and Riley found himself smiling. "That explains your shooting. You know that takes all the fun out of it, right?"

Lauren patted the rifle. "Girl's best friend. It gets the job done, you should see when I take it along on dates..."

Riley extended his hand. "Well, still it's nice to meet you."

Lauren accepted the hand and shook it firmly as she nodded upwards. "We should tell the Professor where we're going..."

"You let Zahn fly?" Riley laughed, shaking his head, "Well, that explains that as well."

The two officers climbed up through the bucking ship, Lauren staring at the fiend hunched into the small space, the old pilot's seat torn from its brackets and tossed haphazardly over the console behind it.

"I think you should have gone for something with more headroom," Riley shrugged, leaning over the young tech in the engineering seat, glancing at the field of red that indicated the poor state of health of the Raptor's systems. It was enough to make him grab the seatbelts and buckle himself in, tightly.

Lauren did the same with the gunnery console, pointing out of the cockpit window and down to the outpost landing field. "Can you put us down there?" She asked hopefully.

With the gaping hole in the cargo bay where the ramp had once been, the ship wasn't space worthy. Returning to the fleet wasn't an option; that left the only place Lauren was sure of Imperial troops being: the command centre.

Zahn nudged the stick over and pulled back on the ship's forward thrust, the Raptor slowing considerably as it began to slip downwards, a circular bank that lined it up squarely with the patch of sodden grass that the Amsus used as their landing zone.

It was going to be a hard landing and the altitude alarms began in a cold Amsus voice: "Altitude. Altitude. Bwoop! Bwoop! Pull up. Pull up."

The nose of the Raptor slipped into the treetops, snapping and crunching as the grassy patch came up on them, a large tree branch snapping free and rolling back over the top of the ship as it plunged nose-first into the mud.

The sharp jolt and sickening crunch had knocked them all about, and there was a long moment where Riley was certain he was dead. And while it certainly hadn't been the best landing, they were down on the ground, in one reasonable facsimile of a piece.

"Up and out!" He ordered, knowing that the others in the cockpit were slower to react, shock and adrenaline beginning to take effect. Riley knew the feeling, knew what it took to get people to focus on the there and now instead of fixated on what had just happened to them.

He helped the Commander out of her seat, pushing her back towards the corridor as he looked down at Zahn. The Professor, wedged into the gap where the seat had been, appeared unhurt; he was cursing loudly in his own language as he tried to get out of the narrow gap.

The ground outside was churned up around the nose of the Raptor, wisps of smoke rising from the engine ports as they cooled. Lauren was already taking a careful walk around the ship, a good commander checking the state of her ship to see if he could still fly... muttering that he was gonna kill her...

The Orion Lieutenant was collecting assault rifles from the fallen troops around them, tossing a fully-loaded pulse rifle over to the General, who caught it and recovered a couple of spare clips for the weapon.

Lauren reappeared from around the Raptor, pulling a TAC-link from her pocket and looking up at the sky. "Commander Tevraun to Hope of the Dawn, come in..." She listened to silence a moment and switched channels, "Lauren to Mayfair..." She shook her head and slipped the radio away. The young woman rubbed her face and looked at the blackened and torn doors to the command bunker, considering their next move.

* * *

They'd been sitting in silence for hours. Each of them was feeling the desperation of knowing that there was nothing they could do. The Inquisitors were bad enough, but Rikard...

Masconi pulled her hair back, pulling on Darien's 49ers hat, tapping the brim as she leaned on his desk, her uniform tunic hanging open, her palms flat as she stared at the despondent crew members about her.

"I have a plan."

It was flawlessly Darien.

Kyr's head snapped up in shock and even Galadriel started as they looked at the Wing Commander. Sub-Lieutenant Ryerson exchanged a look with Flight Officer Jaimez as they waited for Masconi to explain to them how they were supposed to fight a creature possessing phenomenal powers, an Inquisitor, and then escape from an Amsus battle group in a barely-functioning Excalibur.

"She has 'his' look," Galadriel murmured, looking across at the doctor.

Ryerson got up and pointed to the rent-open doors, past the Amsus guards stationed at the far end of the connecting corridor to the bridge. "The doctor shot that... thing... at point blank range and he just kept coming... need I remind you what he did to you?" He checked back to make sure the guards hadn't heard him before he looked up at Masconi.

"Doctor," Masconi came around Darien's desk and hopped up onto it, sitting on the edge, "What is Rikard?"

"Well, my psychic powers are on the blink today..." Kyr muttered, getting up and taking off his lab coat, "I'd need a sample, time in my lab..."

"If you were to guess?" Masconi asked exasperatedly, "You know if I was Darien, you guys would be jumping through burning hoops to co-operate. Cut me some slack here, he's not the only one to come up with cunning plans." Her eyes sparkled.

"With due respect, sir," Ryerson said calmly, "Your last cunning plan involved a lot of shooting and you getting your ass handed to you."

"Shut up, Bob," Galadriel snapped, "She's in charge here, last I checked you didn't have three bars."

Masconi stood slowly, slipping off her jacket and tossing it onto Darien's chair. "Screw rank," She said calmly, looking over at the doctor again, "Doctor, if you were to guess?"

Kyr shook his head, his eyes wide trying to think. "I'm not sure. He's displaying properties similar to Amsus Inquisitors, the rapid regeneration, the strength and the way he moves..." He closed his eyes and began to walk around in a circle before the doors. "That's not even touching on the fact he seemed to pick you up by sheer strength of will, and what he did to those two Marines..."

"How the hell are we supposed to..." Ryerson objected.

Galadriel rolled her eyes. "So we need a PKD?" She said, joining the conversation and cutting off the young officer.

"Maybe," Kyr said, "Darien used a PKD to kill an Inquisitor, but Rikard is different. I don't know if he would be vulnerable to one." He sighed again, looking at Darien's shelves and the books there. VonGrippen's tactical books, notes, whatever had survived Kendrick's attack on the room.

His eyes fell on the flat wooden case that Darien had been given when he had liberated Taïr: the heavy revolvers. He glanced at the doors and darted to them, flipping the case open and holding them up triumphantly. The Amsus, in their rush to secure the prisoners, hadn't thought to check the room.

Masconi walked down and picked up one of the heavy nickel-plated weapons, flipping open its cylinder and checking the rounds. Fully loaded, six rounds. She checked the other revolver and smiled as she handed it to Jaimez, both of them tucking them away before the guards noticed what they were doing.

"That's a start," she said, nodding.

Kyr shook his head, closing the case and replacing it on the shelf. "Medically... there were things that went on in the old Empire that we're never going to know about. Genetic experiments that..." he shrugged again, "Well, my people for example."

"So Rikard's a construct of sorts..." Ryerson sneered.

Kyr's eyebrow arched and he felt himself baring his teeth at the ignorant human. "I wouldn't say that," he fought to stay calm. The young officer didn't know any better. "But there was the Immortal Emperor."

Masconi and Galadriel both shifted uncomfortably. The Emperor was near to a god for their House. Despite the fact that neither was a practicing member of the religion, there was still that knee-jerk reaction to the mention of a god, bred through unending Sunday school lessons.

Kyr himself winced but kept on. "Well, I don't know how up any of you are on your pre-ascendancy Imperial history..." he saw their blank faces and sighed. The members of House Kardiac he could understand; they'd had that portion of history rewritten for them by insane religious fanatics, but House Karin? There was no real excuse for them, except for the piss-poor state of Karin's education system.

"Just before his transcendence, the Emperor was dying," Kyr found the appropriate book on the shelf, a little scorched from its ordeal, but he found the pages he was looking for;"There was no clear heir, Prince Marius his only son was... undesirable, the Archduchess Katherynn - VonGrippen's wife - had died a few years before, and her son a few years before that." Kyr turned the book to show the family tree, "That left young Edward, who was almost eight. And his Grandfather was doing everything in his power to protect him from the aspirations of the court and the Highlord Council."

"Right, but the transcendence saw him become Immortal," Galadriel replied, "And he could rule the Empire forever."

"Yes, well..." Kyr shifted uncomfortably, "It wasn't quite that easy. You know where the Emperor came from, right?"

Everyone shook their heads and exchanged blank looks. Kyr sighed again. "The United Nations was in crisis..." he looked about hopefully for a glimmer of recognition, "The crisis when it splintered and the various factions began to fight. The genetic programs created by the European Union? The next generation of Generals?" Kyr shook his head as he sat down on the back of one of the couches, "Long story short, the Generals started out working for the Nations, but as more control was turned over to them to help them win the war it stopped being about the Nations and became about the General's aspirations. They fought until only one remained..."

"The Emperor..." Galadriel said, nodding, "Third testament, chapter one, verse one thousand and four..."

Masconi started. "You know the scriptures?"

Galadriel winced. "My mother is a priest in Hanno city, I had to know them... 'And he arose, out of the ashes of war the lone victor...'"

"It was a little less poetic than that," Kyr sniffed, "But he was a..." he glanced at Ryerson and mimicked his sneer, "Construct."

Masconi chuckled and nudged Galadriel. "Your mother's not going to like that."

Kyr glanced at the door. "Well anyway, they were supposed to have developed some kind of genetic experiments that they administered to the Emperor to extend his life. But," Kyr flipped through the pages, "he began to display abnormal abilities, much like..." he nodded in the direction of Rikard and the bridge.

"Rikard's..." Masconi frowned.

"If it worked for the Emperor and succeeded in extending his life," Kyr said, "It would explain how Rikard is still here after three hundred years."

"You had a plan?" Ryerson said, turning to Masconi, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled on the room.

* * *

"Where is he?" Evans's tone was even as he stood in the simple interrogation room, Major Malone sitting behind the metal table, her hands resting on the table as she ignored him.

Evans rested back against the wall, flipping through the thick service record for the highly-decorated Karin Marine. She'd been a loyal member of Iver's guard before the restoration, daughter of the former head of the Karin Guard, Iver's predecessor.

"Your father would be disappointed in you," Evans said, trying to crack her composure.

"No," she shot back looking up, "My father would be proud of me for standing up to you bastards."

"Where's the Prince?" Evans asked again, still reading. He was slow and deliberate; he knew that now he had gained a reaction out of her it was only a matter of time until he broke through her defences and got what he wanted.

The Major returned her gaze to the mirrored wall behind Evans.

Evans turned his head and smiled. "Yes, the General is watching this," he answered her unasked question, "He was all for executing both you and your husband, but I managed to convince him to spare you..."

Malone's eyes flicked to the Colonel's.

Evans gave her a chilling smile. Bingo.

"Yes, I managed to convince him that we only needed one of you to talk, the other was..." he fished a remote out of his pocket and pointed it up at the ceiling. The holographic screen sprang to life to show the upper landing platform, where two Wolves held a shivering Sam at gunpoint.

Malone's fists clenched a little tighter.

Evans nodded. "Do you remember what the capital punishment was during the Commonwealth era?" he asked nonchalantly, "They used to take prisoners up to that platform and push them off. It's almost a half-mile to the surface of Karin from that point, and the snow gets very deep down there. In the unlikely event of a person's surviving the fall, the cold would kill him in a few short hours."

Malone seethed, staring at him with pure hate in her eyes, contemplating the time it would take for her to kill that man.

Evans looked at the monitor. "I wonder if your husband can fly..." He was taking delight in her anger, enjoying the fact that he was going to break her. The only problem was that it would be over too quickly.

"Let him go..." Malone murmured.

"Where is the Prince?" Evans repeated, his eyes boring into her.

"Beyond your reach," Malone shot back, "By now he's with Zoran..."

"No," Evans said, "We've been monitoring the renegade ships closely, no traffic has been in or out for days. Which means he is still on Karin." He stopped on one line in the file, and chuckled wondering how he'd missed that... "Is he with your son, Major?"

Malone went rigid.

Evans had exactly what he wanted; he closed the file with a snap and lifted his TAC-link. "Kill him."

Malone surged to grab for him, but the heavy chain manacles that secured her to the floor allowed her only a little slack and she was pulled up short, her fingers a foot from the Colonel's throat.

On the screen the Wolves nudged the shivering doctor off of the edge of the platform.

* * *

Mayfair's blue TAC-light swept the dark corridor. It was broad and low, like all Amsus underground complexes. Built for defence, the large pillars lining the corridors had been strategically placed to provide cover for the defenders while leaving the attackers out in the open.

It was dark and the air was stale, he felt nervous, his men sweeping out around him probing the dark network of tunnels, feeling the claustrophobic environment, as if the walls were closing in about them. They moved in squads, fanning out to secure their objectives, expecting but not meeting any resistance at all.

That sent alarm bells screaming inside the Colonel's head. There should be Amsus troopers in there, they should be fighting for every inch of ground, taking losses as they rushed to secure the precious FTL dish and the command centre. But once they had breached the doors, there was nothing but still darkness.

He tapped his TAC-link again, still nothing. They had a few more hours until the ionisation in the atmosphere cleared enough for communications to be restored. But the silence only added to the nervous feeling growing inside the Colonel.

They came out of the tunnel into the central stairwell, designed with broad slopes to provide high vantage points on anyone who attempted the climb towards the command centre far above. It was the ideal place for an ambush.

Mayfair gestured to one of the Commandos, the Kardiac soldier kneeling and drawing a flare gun, loading it and sending a flare whistling to illuminate the stairwell above them. There were no troopers, or snipers on high vantage points. The last thing the Colonel needed were a couple of troopers with VLRs up in the rafters, they'd cut his squad to pieces.

He silently murmured thanks that the expense of the weapon system prohibited its widespread battlefield use. He'd heard enough horror stories from the Imperial front lines about run-ins with Amsus snipers.

His sergeant made a hand signal and the squad began the advance up the stairs, keeping their eyes peeled for anything that could leap out at them. The pointman uttered the start of a scream as his chest disintegrated: the tell-tale wound of an Inquisitor's weapon.

It struck fast, taking a running leap from an upper platform as it crashed into the midst of the squad. Moving with deadly speed and agility, it pulled the sergeant from the stairs and sent the man screaming over the edge, plunging into the darkness.

It was the Fida'i, sweeping out of the shadows, that saved Mayfair from the Inquisitor's wrath. Twin blades whirling, the small dervishes leapt from the darkness and attacked, one of them kicking the Inquisitor's rod from his hand as the other drove his knives into the gaps between the Inquisitor's armour plates.

It thrashed wildly, sweeping one of the Fida'i up and away, sending him crashing with a sickening thud into the masonry. It rounded on the other annoying one with the blades.

Mayfair reacted, letting his rifle drop as he wrenched the PKD free, levelling it at the creature that was wrestling with the last Fida'i. He squeezed the trigger, cursing as the weapon refused to discharge, the ionisation in the atmosphere scrambling the weapon's delicate electronics.

Mayfair tossed the weapon away, biting his lip as the Inquisitor dodged a Commando who tried to club it with the butt of his assault rifle, the Inquisitor grabbing both the Commando and the final Fida'i, who was clambering to kick his way free, and drove both of them together with a crunch of bones.

Mayfair noted the drop, he closed his eyes, pushing back onto a leg as he propelled himself forward, crashing into the Inquisitor's body, the pair of them going over the edge and plunging into the darkness below.

* * *

Luther smiled as he pulled the jeep to a stop, gesturing down at the lodge sitting nestled in the valley below them. It was a beautiful round-log affair, with well-groomed ski slopes and working chairlifts. It looked serenely peaceful, the private shuttle pad off to one side occupied by the civilian shuttle that would ferry the Prince to safety.

Edward couldn't help but smiling, skiing had never been his strong suit... He frowned inwardly a moment wondering at it, he was a very good skier.

The troubled Prince sat quietly looking down at the peaceful scene. In his mind he wondered how long it would be until that peace was disturbed? It seemed that no matter where he went things just went wrong, people suffered.

He had to stop thinking like that; he was descending into a dark place that was filled with bitterness and regret. Blaming himself for things that weren't his fault. Using that as an excuse to be afraid.

His grandfather would expect more from him.

"We should get to the shuttle," Luther said, leaning forward on the steering wheel as he coaxed the jeep to start again in the bitterly cold weather, driving on around the mountain road, curling around towards the pass that would let them down into the valley below.

Edward looked at his driver. Luther's face held some of the usual sullenness that belonged to teenagers, his eyes dark and brooding with his cheeks and jaw well defined. He'd let his hair grow out into a shaggy mop that he didn't bother to do anything with. Yet there was determination in them, a sense of purpose revolving around getting Edward to safety.

The roar of the trio of dropships shook the jeep as they blew past. Two of them descended towards the road ahead as the third remained airborne, covering the troops spilling out onto the road ahead.

Traffic about them began to slow, as the heavily armed soldiers began to flag down traffic, guiding them to the side of the road as other soldiers began to set up a roadblock. It was hurried, simple wooden barricades being set up as the two dropships were being used to block most of the road. But the troops were setting up a pair of sentry guns that were being rigged out ahead to end any thought of running the roadblock.

Luther closed his eyes. "Shit..." his confident smile faltered.

Edward folded his arms as the jeep began to crawl forward behind the other vehicles. There was nowhere to run; the road was narrow edged, on one side by a sharp cliff, on the other by a wall of rock. If they tried to turn around, they'd be spotted. If they tried to run the barricade, they'd be killed.

He reached for the door handle.

"Where are you going?" Luther asked.

Edward looked back across at the young man. "Doing the honourable thing," he said calmly, "if I give myself up, maybe you can slip away in the confusion."

"But..." Luther protested.

Edward looked down at the shuttle, so tantalizingly close; a few more minutes and they would have been free. "I need you to get a message to Highlord Taine," Edward said, looking back at his companion, "Tell him..." Edward tried to think of something, anything that could convey the desperation inside him, "Tell him that I can't get to him... Tell him I need his help."

He climbed out of the jeep, keeping a large truck between him and the roadblock so that they wouldn't be able to spot where he'd come from. He squared his shoulders and took off the cap, tossing it over the cliff as he walked round into the road, marching brazenly up to the first soldier he saw.

"Take me to Walker von Karin!" he ordered sternly.

The Soldier frowned as he turned, his eyes going wide as he recognized who was addressing him. "Y-your Highness..."

"Walker von Karin, now." Edward insisted, marching past the soldier towards one of the dropships.

A grey-clad Imperial Intelligence agent pulled the side door open on the dropship. Stepping down and buttoning the thick woollen coat, he bowed his head. "Good to see you are alive, your Highness." Colonel Evans stepped back and looked at the long line of trucks, cars and jeeps.

"I gave orders to take me to Walker," Edward said, rounding on the Colonel, "I expect you to carry them out, Colonel."

"Of course, your Highness..." Evans responded, studying the young man's face, "But first we must ensure that you are all right, and General Iver is most anxious about your safety."

"Iver can wait," Edward snapped, looking at the uncertain men about him, "I gave you an order, as your sovereign. Are you going to disobey?"

Evans noted the hesitation in the Karin Marines about him, and wished he'd had time to put together a team of Wolves. He could see Edward had noted the hesitation as well, and was playing it for all it was worth.

"Very well, your Highness." Evans replied, "Allow me to..."

"You will accompany me," Edward commanded, keeping his voice tight and even, exuding confidence, trying to not let the fear inside of him show, "And you will maintain communications silence," he looked at the soldiers about him, "Lest my security be compromised."

"You're playing a dangerous game," Evans murmured, his eyes scanning the vehicles again, trying to spot the Prince's accomplice.

"And you're losing it." Edward countered, "Get into the dropship and escort me back to the fortress."

Evans inclined his head again. "Of course, your Highness." It was a temporary victory for the Prince; once they returned to the fortress, Evans would once again be surrounded by troops he could rely upon, and then the game would rest squarely in his favour.