"You want to use nukes?" MacMahan yelped.
"No," Dahak said calmly, "but these are Terran warheads, which rely on shaped chemical charges to initiate criticality, and each of them contains several kilograms of the compound Octol."
"And how do you get the explosives into position?" MacMahan asked more normally.
"Somebody walks in, sets them, fuses them, and walks back out again," Colin said. MacMahan raised an eyebrow, and Colin shrugged. "It should work, as long as he doesn't have any active Imperial hardware on him."
"Background radioactivity?" Hatcher asked. "If this stuff's been squirreled away inside a nuclear warhead for twenty-odd years, it's bound to have picked up some contamination."
"Not sufficient to cross a Mark Ninety's threshold," Dahak replied.
"You're certain?" Hatcher pressed, then waved a hand. "Forget that. You never make unqualified statements if you aren't certain, do you?"
"Such habits imply a certain imprecision of thought," Dahak observed, and despite the tension, Colin smiled, then sobered.
"I think we have to try it. It's a risk, but it's the smallest one I can come up with, and you may be right about a timer, Hector. We don't have time to come up with an ideal, no-risk solution."
"Agreed. How long to strip out the explosives and get them down here, Dahak?"
"I have already initiated the process, General. I estimate that they could be delivered to the Palace within twenty minutes in their present state, but I would prefer to reshape them into a proper configuration for maximum destructive effect, which will require an additional hour."
"Eighty minutes?" MacMahan rubbed his chin, then nodded. "All right, Colin, I'll vote for it."
"Gerald? Tao-ling?" Both officers nodded, and Colin glanced at Chernikov.
"I, too," the Russian said. "In fact, I would prefer to place the charge myself."
"I don't know, Vlad—" Colin began, but MacMahan interrupted crisply.
"If you were thinking about doing it yourself, you can just rethink. Whatever happens down here, you, personally, are going to be aboard Dahak and outside the lethal zone when we set it off. And if you know anybody better equipped for the job than Vlad, I don't." Colin opened his mouth, but MacMahan fixed him with a challenging eye and he closed it again.
"Good," MacMahan said.
"Suppressor's active, Brigadier," the Security tech said, never looking up from his remote panel. "Their coms are blocked."
"Elevators and switchboard?" Brigadier Jourdain asked, and another man looked up.
"Shut down. They've pulled almost all the regular Security people for crowd control, and I've cut the links to the lobby station. We're placing the charges to blow the switchboard when we leave now; it'll look just like a Sword of God hit, Sir."
"All right." Jourdain faced his handpicked traitors. "Remember, these are Imperial Marines. There's only twelve of them, but they're tough, well trained, and if they've tried their coms since the suppressor went on-line, they're going to be ready. Our coms are out, too, so stick to the plan. Don't improvise unless you have to."
His men nodded grimly.
"All right. Let's do it."
Horus stood outside Jiltanith's bedroom while she jerked on clothes, and his mind raced. It was preposterous. He was in his own HQ building in the middle of Earth's capital city, and he couldn't even place a com call! There could be only one reason for that, but how had "Mister X" pulled it off? Captain Chin was right. The only thing that could shut down fold coms without active jamming was close proximity to a warp suppressor, but a suppressor powerful enough to do the job was far too large to have been smuggled through White Tower's security... which meant someone on his own security staff must have brought it in, and if he'd been penetrated that completely—
He crossed to his desk and touched a button, and the desktop swung smoothly up. The habits of millennia of warfare die hard, and despite his fear, he smiled wolfishly as he lifted the energy gun from its nest. He punched the self-test button, and the ready light glowed just as the bedroom door opened... and Captain Chin half-ran into his office.
"Your Grace," the Chinese officer said flatly, "the elevators are out, too."
"Shit!" Horus closed his eyes, then shook himself. "Stairs?"
"We can try them, Sir, but if they've cut the coms and elevators, they're already on their way. And without the elevators—"
"Without the elevators, they're coming up the stairs," Horus grunted. Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful! Head down the stairs and they risked running into the bastards head-on. For a moment, he was tempted anyway, but Imperial weapons were too destructive. If they got caught in a stairwell, a single shot might take out all their men—and 'Tanni. But if they didn't try to break out, they left the initiative to the other side. On the other hand—
Jiltanith stepped out of the bedroom, convoyed by four stocky, black-and-tan rottweilers. Her dagger glittered on her belt, and Horus' mouth tightened as she reached out and took Captain Chin's grav gun from its holster. The Marine didn't protest; he simply shifted his energy gun to his left hand and passed over his ammunition belt with his right, and she gave him a strained smile. The belt wouldn't fit around her pregnancy-swollen waist, so she hung it over her shoulder like a bandolier.
"All right, Captain," Horus said. "We have to let them come to us. The stairs merge into the central core one floor down; have ten of your people set up to cover the landings. Leave the other two here to cover the access to my office. 'Tanni, lock your bedroom door, then go to my room and lock yourself in. Hopefully, if anyone gets this far, they'll head for your room first."
"Father, I—" she began, and he shook his head savagely.
"I know, 'Tanni, but you're going to have to leave this to us. We can't risk you, and even if we could—" He waved at her swollen belly, the gesture both tender and oddly apologetic, and she nodded unhappily.
"Art right," she sighed, and looked down at the bio-enhanced dogs.
"Go thou wi' Captain Chin," she told them, "and watch thyselves."
"We go, pack lady," Galahad's vocoder said, "but keep Gwynevere with you." She nodded, and Horus looked at Chin as the other three dogs leapt away.
"We're out of communication, and we're going to be spread out. Watch your rears as well as your fronts."
"Yes, Your Grace!" Chin saluted and vanished after the dogs, and Horus turned to the two Marines who'd been left behind.
"Anyone who gets this far will have to come up the last stair. After that, they'll go for 'Tanni's bedroom first. Pick yourselves positions to cover the stairs. If you have to fall back, head this way; don't head for my room. We want them to keep on thinking she's in her room as long as we can."
"Yes, Sir." The senior Marine jerked his head at his companion, and they ran towards the tower's central access core.
"Go, 'Tanni!" Horus said urgently.
"I go, Father," she said softly, yet she paused just long enough to throw one arm about him and kiss him before she wheeled away. He watched her go, Gwynevere trotting ahead of her like a scout, and turned to survey his office one more time. He'd accomplished a lot from this place. Commanded the Siege of Earth, directed the reconstruction in its wake, coordinated the introduction of an entire planet to Imperial technology... . He'd never expected to fight for his daughter's life from it, but if he had to do that too, then, by the Maker, he would.