Chapter Twelve

Smoke obscured the vision of the survivors as it was blown across their faces by the landing Janos transports. The soldiers of House Familee were knelt in the scorched courtyard, their hands behind their heads and their eyes downcast. The transport touched down and settled with a multitude of hisses and snapping sounds.

Around the soldiers stood the blue-armoured troopers of House Janos, their rifles primed and ready, their eyes watching intently for any excuse to open fire. They sung softly in reverence to their victory, a strange hum that echoed throughout the yard. War Marshall Areed had instructed the officers that had already landed to stop the men under their command from simply executing the prisoners; there would be ambassadors from other planets here who would have to be treated accordingly. Having stories of mass murder being spread around the explored galaxy was something he’d been concerned about. Still, Areed was a mercenary and the code dictated that now the fighting was over there was no more need for killing.

The ramp from the ship extended and a squad of armed and armoured Janos Executioners walked down, a different wild design on each of their carapace-like protective suits. One had a selection of strange playing cards painted on. Another had different predatory animals on his. They had tall plumes rising from the top of their helmets, and as they walked they raised their rifles in salute to the Lord Gevier who had approached the base of the ramp.

The Emperor-Priest of Janos walked briskly down, his thumbs jammed into his belt, with Areed walking just behind him, a communications headset plugged into one ear and the microphone curling around to his mouth. He had his hand on his pistol, but it was switched off and safetied. He also wore a wrist shield.

“Section three-eye reports situation under control in the south province,” he was saying to Akallon, keeping him updated with the course of the last hour of the battle. “Section six has not reported.”

The Emperor-Priest wasn’t listening. He was looking proudly at the devastation around him, nodding in silent confirmation. “It went well,” he said to no one in particular.

Lord Gevier assumed the question required an answer. “Complete military collapse in a little under an hour,” he said. “We are still waiting for a formal surrender.”

“Unconditional?”

“Of course. I told what commanders were left you would settle for nothing less.”

The Emperor-Priest breathed in hard as if inhaling the atmosphere would make him stronger. “Complete invasion in an hour. Revenge is complete. What do you think of that, Areed?”

The War Marshall just nodded. It was, after all, his strategy that had allowed the fight to progress so smoothly. Still, it was his Lord’s moment.

“Section eight reporting. We have a transport down at a landing field not far from here. Only a squad of nil-gravity parachutists survived. A civilian transport escaped.”

“Not important,” the Emperor-Priest waved it off. “All civilian traders are to be searched and then released. I want to keep things... amicable.”

Areed looked at the devastation. The outer wall was gone, the walls of the palace were holed and several rooms were gutted by fire. Bodies and parts of bodies lay scattered all around. In fact, it was difficult to walk without stepping in some form of gore.

Amicable?

They approached the fallen wall and then passed through to the palace. The remains of a Familee ground transport still burned, and the Emperor-Priest held up one hand to ward off the heat. His personal guard followed.

“Where is Fly?” Akallon asked Gevier.

“She survived and is being brought to the audience chamber.”

The steps up to the great doors, or what remained of them, were holed from laser fire, the melted stone leaving cooled rivulets in the marble. They walked through the entrance and into the audience chamber.

The roof had collapsed by the entrance. Even now, soldiers were moving the rubble so that access could be easier. The entourage scrambled over the remains of a statue and walked to the head table.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just execute the prisoners?” Akallon asked of Areed for the third time since they had entered orbit. “I don’t want a band of freedom fighters ruining my take-over.”

Areed shook his head. “It is not done, Baron. There are Galactic Alliance codes and they must be treated with the relevant courtesy. I will have a camp erected.”

The Emperor-Priest tutted loudly and glowered at Areed. “I think a few killings would deter any future uprising.”

“I think the deterrent lies all around us, my Lord,” Areed said with mounting impatience. Even mercenaries had their limits, and Areed was fighting the Emperor-Priest’s war of revenge for profit, not for his unnatural need for conflict.

The aid to Mind Hillit, the woman the Emperor-Priest called Fly, was being escorted by two soldiers into the chamber. She approached and curtsied, a little overconfidence shining in her eyes. She smiled broadly.

“My Lord. Welcome to Chinngard.”

A smile crossed Akallon’s face. “You have done well, Fly. I shall see you are rewarded for this.”

“I serve the spirit of Janos.”

“So you do. Still, without your help this invasion would not have been possible. Now, how many staff are left?”

“Just three, my Lord. A Commander Lir, the Mind Hillit and the Lord Verid. They are being held in the palace prison.”

“Anyone else?” the Emperor-Priest’s face changed from a smiling visage to a level-lipped stare.

“No, my Lord.” Fly was getting confused.

“What of the Baroness Julid and her sons and daughter?”

Fly shifted uncomfortably. “I do not know what became of the children, but the Baroness lies with her husband...” She suddenly stopped talking. Akallon’s eyes had bulged; the tendons on his neck were so tight they looked as if they would tear.

“She’s dead?” he roared, grabbing her by the collar. She squirmed her way free and took a step back.

“Yes! The Baron Familee and his wife always dine alone together. It was the only way to get him!”

With a deep groan the Emperor-Priest clenched his teeth, screwed his eyes shut and jammed his fists against his forehead. “No! She was not meant to be harmed! Or her children!”

Areed looked at Gevier with concern, and Gevier returned the look with equal emotion. They both looked at Fly.

“Get out of here, you stupid woman. Go!”

But Fly had let her part in the invasion get the better of her ego. “No! You promised me payment and I did what I had to do to get it done! I was going to retire with those tokens!” She stood in a defiant pose.

“Retire?” the Emperor-Priest said with an evil smile. He pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it at Fly’s chest. Her stance changed to a frightened posture as she shrank in front of the barrel.

“I’ll retire you,” he snarled, and pulled the trigger. Fly opened her mouth to scream but the shot had already slammed into her sternum. Her front and back exploded in sparks that rained down on everyone. He just stood there immobile, watching the body fall and listening to the echo of the shot fade.

“The Fly has been swatted,” the Lord Gevier said with a smile.

“But her actions have made our job all the more difficult,” Areed said as he looked at the twisted form of woman on the floor being hauled away by the soldiers who had escorted her to the chamber.

Lord Gevier’s face twisted. “I don’t understand,” he said.

The Emperor-Priest was walking slowly to the table at the end of the hall. “The Prime Lord’s daughter is dead, Gevier, you simple-witted fool. She died during the invasion? How do you think he will take that?”

The comprehension dawned and Gevier swallowed nervously.

“Oh, dear.”

“Oh, dear, indeed! If the Prime Lord finds out she died during the fighting, poisoned or not, he will throw everything he has at us! I employ idiots and half-wits! Jesters and inbreeds!” The Emperor-Priest was throwing his arms about, his fists clenched. Areed knew he would not be on the receiving end of those limbs so he motioned for Gevier to move out of range and stepped closer to the Emperor-Priest.

“We have a planet to secure, my Lord. The details of the invasion, and your reason why you attacked, do not have to be broadcast yet. We can send a message back to Janos to tell them to tighten their defences. We are already spread thinly. You must keep your priorities straight...”

The Emperor-Priest whirled on Areed. “I am keeping them straight! What I see is the Prime Lord cutting of my head and mounting it on the front of his starship! That’s all I can see!”

The atmosphere became quiet and strained. Areed put his finger to his ear as another report came in. He listened closely.

“Section two reported heavy gunfire on the upper levels of the palace. They identified the triplets and the Baron’s bodyguard escaping to the hopper bay. The triplets escaped.”

“And the bodyguard?”

“No report.” Areed’s face became a scowling mask as he listened to the report.

“Isn’t the bodyguard a friend of yours?” Gevier asked.

Areed nodded and turned away, not wanting to continue the conversation.

“Your soul-friend or something? Arkin? Didn’t you both serve in the Prime Lord’s...”

Areed turned and abruptly changed the subject, his hand on the headset. “Section eight reporting. We have lost transport three. They have killed an escapee in Familee uniform. They identified him as one of the triplets, they don’t know which one. The other two escaped with a child, unknown age. The ship was called the something Dream. They have left orbit. About ten minutes ago. The kill is verified.”

“So,” the Emperor-Priest started stalking and waving again, “not only am I killing the Prime Lord’s daughter I’m wiping out his grandchildren, too? I want the departure log of the landing field scanned and the destination of the ship determined. I need to get those Familee children!”

“I think you’ll find the ‘children’ are grown men.”

“Whatever! They must be captured!”