The comment was intended more for Kor’s men than the officer herself. Because they were mercs. And like hired guns everywhere, they were bound to put themselves first. Fortunately, none of the men and women showed any signs of running as the snipers opened fire from the hills and the attackers swept forward. “ Aimed fire,” Kor said grimly. “We’re starting to run low on ammo. Hey! Where’s the bug going? He’ll get his ass shot off.”
As Vanderveen turned to her left, she saw that Chancellor Ubatha had exited through the hole where the front door had been. He was holding a pistol. And, judging from appearances, he was about to join the battle. She shouted, “No! Stop!” But it was too late.
Vanderveen grabbed one of the assault weapons that were leaning against the front wall and made for the front entrance. Not because Ubatha was a friend, but because he was an important link to the monarch and the only member of her retinue who had the capacity to stand up to her.
A bullet pinged off the door frame as she darted outside. The formerly pristine lawn was a mess. Kor’s mercs were firing out through the windows. And Vanderveen knew there was a very real danger of being shot from behind. But it was too late to worry about that as one of the attackers opened up on Ubatha with a submachine gun. Geysers of dirt rose all around the Chancellor as he continued to plow his way forward, and Vanderveen dropped to one knee.
There wasn’t enough time to use the scope. All Vanderveen could do was bring the rifle up and fire instinctively. One of her bullets struck the man with the SMG in the shoulder and turned him around. Another threw him down. Ubatha, seemingly unaware of the manner in which his life had been spared, continued to shuffle forward.
As bullets kicked up puffs of dust around him, the War Ubatha felt a terrible sense of shame. For to lead animals into battle was to be an animal. But such was the fate that the gods of war had allotted him. And the alternative was even worse. If he failed, the entire empire would be at risk. The War Ubatha’s thoughts were interrupted by a series of overlapping sonic booms. All of the beings around him paused to look up at the sky. “Drop pods!” a noncom shouted. “Destroy them.”
And the mercs tried. But there wasn’t much point in doing so. The chutes used to slow the containers had already been released, and the containers hit the ground one after another. Plumes of gas jetted away from them as the pods began to open. “Now!” the War Ubatha shouted. “Attack them now. Before they can defend themselves.”
What ensued was a horrible free-for-all. Each drop pod contained two legionnaires-a cyborg and a bio bod. Once on the ground, they were supposed to exit, come together, and prepare for combat. A process that should take less than sixty seconds. But while some of the containers landed in front of the Ramanthian-led force and some landed behind it, the rest came down practically on top of it. T-2s were struck by multiple rockets as they lurched out of their pods. And many bio bods fared even worse. They were shot while still strapped into their seats. But try as they might, the mercs couldn’t kill all of the legionnaires, and it wasn’t long before they were taking casualties as well.
The War Ubatha saw one of the containers hit fifty feet away, raised his sword, and charged. There was a flash followed by a loud boom as the pod took a direct hit. A panel blew off as the blackened vehicle toppled over onto its side. It appeared as if the cyborg was trapped in the wreckage. But a human rolled free and struggled to rise.
The War Ubatha had arrived on the scene by then. He raised the blade high, knowing that when it fell, the animal’s head would roll free.
Chancellor Ubatha wasn’t a very good shot. Nor did he need to be from only a dozen feet away. He looked down the barrel, squeezed the bulb-shaped handle, and felt the resulting recoil. The bullet struck the War Ubatha’s right thigh, shattered his chitin, and dumped the warrior on the ground. Meanwhile, as the revengeful T-2s and their riders made use of their superior firepower to cut the mercs down, the tide of battle began to turn. In fact, the battle was nearly over as the legionnaire whom the War Ubatha had been so determined to behead raised his carbine. “No,” Vanderveen ordered as she stepped in. “Hold your fire. That’s an order.” The soldier complied.
The War Ubatha still had his sword and was trying to lift it when a second bullet shattered his arm. “Now,” Chancellor Ubatha said, as he stood over his fallen mate. “Now you will pay. There is only one way you could have followed us here. And that is with information obtained from the Egg Ubatha. Information you would have had to force out of her. Is she still alive?
“Answer me,” Chancellor Ubatha demanded as he placed a foot on his mate’s chest. “Did you kill our mate?”
The War Ubatha had been wounded before. But never so badly. And the pain was intense. He could hear the other Ubatha. But the words sounded as if they were coming from a place a million miles away. “We are at war,” he answered. “Each must do his or her part. I asked, and she refused. Sacrifices must be made. That is the way of the warrior.”
Chancellor Ubatha made a strange, choking sound. He fired again and again until the pistol was empty-and the War Ubatha was nothing more than a bullet-riddled corpse. Then, having thrown the pistol down, he turned away. Vanderveen looked at the legionnaire as a T-2 fought its way clear of the wreckage. “Follow him. Keep him safe.”
The legionnaire’s face had been hidden behind his visor until that point. But as he removed his helmet, she saw something remarkable. “Tony? Is that you?”
Santana smiled. “Sorry we took so long. But we were on a transport en route to Adobe when orders came in to divert. They said a diplomat was in trouble. I should have known.”
Vanderveen’s eyes were full of emotion. “Yes,” she replied joyfully. “You should have known.”
PLANET ALGERON, THE CONFEDERACY OF SENTIENT BEINGS
Days were short, so timing was critical; as the sun rose in the east, the shuttle temporarily designated as RAM 1 settled onto the VIP pad at Fort Camerone, and a contingent of Naa blew the spiral-shaped horns that had traditionally been used to announce the arrival of an important chief. A large group of dignitaries, including President Nankool, Secretary of State Yatsu, and Military Chief of Staff Bill Booly, were on hand to greet those aboard the incoming ship.
Intersol vid anchor Danny Occuro was stationed on the ramparts above the landing pad. One of the news network’s flying cameras was focused on him. The rest were providing the director with shots of the scene below. Occuro felt nervous and for good reason. He had been chosen over many others to provide pooled coverage of the most important news story since the destruction of the Friendship and the beginning of the war with the Ramanthians. It was a weighty responsibility and one that would put his name in the history books. Because, assuming that what he’d been told was true, the Warrior Queen had survived her injuries by becoming a cyborg. And pictures of her new body were about to be sent throughout the Confederacy for the first time.
As the shuttle’s skids made contact with the repeller-scorched tarmac and the engines spooled down, it was time to begin his narration. “This is Danny Occuro, reporting live from the planet Algeron, with breaking news. I am referring to the arrival of the Ramanthian monarch, often referred to as the Warrior Queen, who, having been injured on Earth, had reportedly died of her wounds. In fact, it was only a little more than a month ago that the Ramanthians held a state funeral for her and chose a new Queen to replace her.
“But according to highly placed government sources, the Warrior Queen was actually on the run, hiding from a team of Ramanthian assassins. That suggests that the present Queen is little more than a pretender, a tool placed on the throne by a cabal of senior officials, all of whom want to run the government themselves. I’ll have more on that as additional information becomes available.”