Wrath of Axia (The Arcadian Jihad) (29 page)

“Even more reason to have us with you,” Saffron smiled.

“Message from Admiral Rusal, Sir.”

The comms officer handed him a message tablet. Blas read it quickly. Berg Smetana had managed to leave his forces early, following the surrender of the enemy armor. Xerxes Tell was in charge on Isolde, with the aid of Nightingale. Berg was on Rusal’s flagship together with a hundred of his cutthroats. His mission was to attack the defense platform control center in Lyra City. It was great news. He handed back the tablet.

“Acknowledge.”

Four hours later the fleet arrived, Rusal in his flagship, the newly repaired and re-commissioned Rex Vitas. He had with him five hundred ships, the bulk of his scratch fleet. The rest had been left on station outside Planet Isolde. There were still a great many threats to defend against. Yet the greatest threat lay in Lyra, the capital city of the central planet of the Nine Systems. Fabian Bartok had built up an army of cronies who prospered through land thefts and slavery. They would do everything in their power to fight off Rusal’s rebel force. Increasingly desperate, now was the time when they would resort to any possible tactic to retain their ill-gotten gains. Blas talked at length to Rusal and described his plan to infiltrate Lyra City and deal with Fabian Bartok while Smetana was attending to the platform control center. The whole plan was to be carried out by stealth rather than outright costly military action. Berg Smetana’s men began the transfer to the Magellan. If it was a job for stealth and guerilla tactics, these Hesperian assassins were the masters. Blas met the first of them in the hangar bay and smiled as Berg led his troop off the first shuttle. They were all nondescript, wearing old, threadbare civilian clothes. Somehow they’d contrived to look like innocent civilians, but he knew that under the old clothes were a variety of lethal weapons. As well as their weapons, every Hesperian assassin was trained to use bare hands together with any implement that he could pick up, including pieces of paper, with which to kill. They were quiet men. All except for Berg, who was his ebullient self.

“Constantine, it’s good to be back.”

Blas smiled, he knew that these men had just fought a hard battle on Isolde. But they lived for war, lived for fighting.

“It’s good to have you with us, Berg. Here’s the situation. As soon as Admiral Rusal makes his attack on the planetary defenses, we’ll slip in with a routine supply flight. They’ll be so panicked that they won’t even check us thoroughly. Once we’re down, we need to get to Lyra City as soon as possible and locate Fabian Bartok. If your men could stage a series of raids south of the city, we’ll go in through the north route. We can pretend to be refugees fleeing the fighting.”

Berg nodded. “We can do that. We’ll stage several hit and run raids, so they won’t know if its rebel action or simple banditry. Once the defense force is fully occupied, we’ll leave them to it and join you in the city.”

“Can you do it, Berg? It’s a lot to ask. They’ll be fully alerted when we go in.”

The assassin smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “We’ve done it before, Constantine. My boys eat these Tricon scum for breakfast. Don’t worry, we’ll eat them up and spit them out. The only question is who gets to Lyra City first.”

Blas nodded. “Just be careful. You’re none of you indestructible.”

Alex Yalonda called across to him. “There are three supply ships going in now. Shall we join them?”

He looked at the time. Three minutes to go until Rusal attacked.

“Just shadow them. As soon as the shooting starts, close up. We’ll join them and ‘escort’ them down to the surface.”

“Very well.”

They watched the approaching planet, as it grew larger on the screens. Even at this distance, they could see the lights of the defense platforms. There were many of them.

“Can Admiral Rusal deal with all of those?” Saffron asked.

“He’s doesn’t intend to deal with them,” Blas replied. “His plan is to engage them at extreme distance, and so give us a chance to go in under the confusion of the exchanges of fire.”

They watched and waited. Soon, the first shots flicked out from the defensive platforms, long-range shots that would not even test the shields of Rusal’s ships. He turned to Captain Yalonda.

“That’s it, join those ships. Let’s see if we can offer to help defend them against attack.”

Yalonda gave the orders and they altered course, increasing speed to catch up with the three supply ships. She took the comms console herself and dealt with the ships using soothing tones that reassured them that the Battlecruiser was there to help them. The crews were only too pleased to have military help for the last stage of their journey. Everyone on the bridge smiled when they heard the crews talking to the ground defenses. They had the correct codewords and then the number of ships in their party.

“Three supply ships and a military cruiser as escort.”

The ground controller was impressed. “An escort, that’s impressive. You must be carrying something valuable.”

“It’s not the cargo, control. Haven’t you heard about the rebel fleet that’s about to attack Axis Nova?”

“Heard about it? We’ve already started to engage. They’re at extreme range at present, but when they come nearer we’ll blast them out of space. You’ll be safe enough on the ground. Don’t worry. What’s the name of that military cruiser?”

The supply ship came on to them and requested their name. Blas thought for a moment, and then smiled. “The Saffron.”

“Thank you, Saffron, we’ll meet you on the ground and buy you a drink.”

The rest was easy. There was no record of a cruiser called Saffron, but in the excitement and panic of Rusal’s attack no one was waiting while checks were made. They dropped into orbit and then began the slow descent through the planetary atmosphere. Within a half hour their ramp was dropping and they were on the surface.

Smetana’s men were first out, and they joined the crews offloading cargo from the three supply ships. Within minutes they had disappeared into a huge warehouse. They never re-emerged. They seemed to melt into the planet. Blas had no doubt they were already on their way to the control center. He stopped a passing civilian.

“How far are we from Lyra City?”

“About forty miles,” the man said over his shoulder as he rushed past. Forty miles, it was a stroke of luck, so they were almost on top of it. Getting inside it was another matter, until they reached the shuttle station and found a car waiting to take maintenance workers to the city. A crowd of men were on the platform, all in the distinctive Tricon uniform. Blas found an empty janitor’s closet, pushed them inside and explained his plan to Saffron and Alex.

“If you can persuade three of these men, one by one, to step inside here, I’ll take care of them. We’ll take their uniforms and id documents and go into the city in their place.”

The women nodded. “One more thing,” Blas said with a grin. “Try and choose men who have some faint resemblance to each of us.”

He waited behind the door. Several minutes later the door opened and a man walked in.

“Is anyone here? Someone said there was an electrical problem.”

Blas stepped out and clubbed the man on the head. He fell to the floor unconscious. He was obviously the one who they had chosen for his resemblance to Blas, so he stripped the man and changed into his uniform, checking the pockets for his identity documents. He was just in time, and as the door opened, he quickly stood up. This man was much shorter, so presumably his uniform was intended for Saffron. He clubbed him unconscious and started strip him of his clothes. The third man entered with Saffron and Alex behind him, He was Alex’s size but something about him spelled danger. This was no stranger to a fight. He stopped short as he saw the two bodies on the floor, but the women gave him a firm push propelling him into the room where Blas was able to knock him down. Except that his one didn’t go easily, he was a fighter. He dropped slightly to ride the blow, then swerved and brought his left arm around in an uppercut that caught Blas on the side of his head. Blas reeled from the blow and stepped back. The man leered at him.

“What is this, some kind of a scam, think you can rob your own comrades with two women to help you?”

Blas was wearing the same uniform now, and the man hadn’t worked it out. He didn’t reply, just flicked out a punch that took the man in the stomach. He grunted, but he was a street fighter, and he didn’t go down. He just grinned. You’ll need to do better than that, my friend. Let’s see how you like it.”

Blas dodged the next punch and was beginning to settle down for a serious fight when the man abruptly went still, just as he launched a hard right hook at his jaw. It connected and the man crashed to the floor.

“Did you do that?” he asked.

Saffron chuckled. “Yes, we did. We thought we’d see how well you fought. It was interesting, but we didn’t want you to get hurt.”

He shook his head to clear it. “Let me know next time you plan something like that, and I’ll make sure I’ve got something to defend myself with.”

He watched while they stripped and changed into uniform. The uniforms fitted, but they were too good-looking, too beautiful by far. He reached down to the floor, which was dirty, scooped up a handful of grime and rubbed it into their faces.

“That should do it. They'll think you were fixing a faulty air conditioning unit.”

“Couldn’t you find something less disgusting than muck from the floor?” Saffron asked.

Blas smiled. “I wanted to see how well you’d take it. It was interesting. We need to get going, that shuttle will be leaving soon.”

They secured the three unconscious men and locked the door by the simple means of putting a piece of soft metal into the lock and breaking it off inside. The surface shuttle was already at the platform and the maintenance crews were piling aboard. They joined them and found seats for the short journey. The rest was easy. The security guards at the city checked their identity documents and let them through, just maintenance crew in uniform. They left the main body of men and started to walk through the city. They had one objective, the Presidential Palace. The streets were heavy with patrols, but the Orphexians were able to smooth the way through. Soon, they stood in front of the main gates to the Presidential Palace compound.

“It’s not going to be so easy this time,” Blas said grimly. “The second they suspect anything, and they’ll start shooting and ask questions afterwards.”

“Unless they heard that a major attack was underway the other side of the compound and they were needed?” Alex said. “We can do that, if you wish. That’s what we’re here for.”

He nodded. “Go ahead. Get them out of the way and we’ll go inside.”

“But once we’re inside, Constantine, it won’t be so easy. We heard that when Bartok took over he had a defense field installed covering the whole of the inside of the Palace itself. Its function is to inhibit the kind of mind control that we are capable of. When we get inside the building, we have to rely on physical force.”

“We’ll manage, just get us in there.”

The Palace was frantic, guards running from place to place, people carrying cases and boxes. In the vehicle park, transporters were already loaded with valuables. It was clear that Bartok’s people were terrified of what they faced. Yet huge screens depicted Fabian Bartok exhorting them to greater efforts. It was a live transmission. Bartok stared at them from the forty-foot high image, and his face alternated between savage intent and warm enticement.

“My friends, I have ten thousand ships due to arrive here in the next forty-eight hours. This rebel scum will be blasted off the face of the planet. You must stand fast and defend our beloved government from the traitors who would try to defeat us.”

He seemed short of breath, and he stopped speaking for a few seconds to gulp in air.

“My guards are patrolling the city, looking for traitors. Anyone who tries to desert the city in our hour of need will be arrested and executed for treason. All citizens are required to report for defensive duties, effective immediately!”

His image disappeared from the screens. The people who had been watching shrugged and carried on moving their valuables, ready to leave. Evidently, they had no faith in Bartok’s claim about huge fleets on their way. Blas and the women arrived at the gates and presented their identification. The guard waved them through as the women used mind control to convince him. But it was the last time they could use their powers, and both looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“The force field, does it hurt?”

They both nodded. “It’s bearable,” Saffron said.

They pushed past the crowds of people thronging the passageways until they reached a checkpoint. A mean looking sergeant demanded to know why they were inside the palace.

“We’re here to make repairs to the air conditioning system, Sergeant,” Blas said.

He looked down at his screen and back up at Blas. His eyes strayed across to the two women, and then nodded at his two troopers. They unslung their laser rifles and held them at the slope across their bodies. They weren’t threatening yet, but in less than a second they could be. The sergeant looked back at Blas. “There’s nothing here about any repairs scheduled.”

He held up his hands and smiled. “Hey, look, if they don’t fill in the necessary authorizations, don’t do blaming me. We’ll come back when it’s sorted out.” He started to turn. “But don’t blame me either when the President wants someone’s blood because his aircon isn’t functioning properly.”