Corian laughed softly. “Thank your pet guard dog for my new look. I have to hand it to you, Edvard, that one was as ruthless as any I’ve seen.”
Edvard’s expression didn’t waver as he shrugged. “And what, if I may ask, happened to Cadrewoman Delsol?”
“By now? Dead of thirst in the Great Desert,” Corian said with a calm gesture. “I didn’t get to kill her personally, unfortunately, but then I’d have been cleaner and more merciful than the desert.”
“Ah …” The sound rattled dryly from the emperor’s throat. “That does answer some questions I had concerning the scene. She managed to cause you this much injury and escape into the desert? You must be getting old, Corian.”
Corian snorted, rolling his eyes. “Crazy bitch turned the inertics off in the prison car before the train was derailed. I never got a chance to cross arms with her.”
Edvard snorted and then slowly began to shake on the throne, finally laughing out loud at the man who was pointing a dozen blasters and carbines at him.
The former general just sighed, nodding his head. “I know. I know.”
For those present, the sight of the emperor laughing near helplessly at the man holding him at gunpoint was a scene that would not be forgotten, nor spoken of without looking over their shoulders, for the rest of their lives.
Corian, however, didn’t seem particularly put out by any of it. In fact he just waited calmly for the other man to stop, an expression of mild chagrin on his face.
“If you’re quite finished?” he asked as Edvard slowly stopped laughing and took a few deep breaths.
“Ah, Corian, how many times did I tell you? You underestimate people, old friend. It’s your fatal flaw,” Edvard said calmly as he took another breath.
“And you overestimate them—that’s yours,” Corian said, his affable posture and tone gone now.
“Perhaps,” Edvard conceded. “I certainly overestimated you …”
“Enough,” Corian snapped. “It’s over, old friend.”
“I suppose it is,” Edvard said, his hand dropping to an object on the arm of his throne. “I believe this is what you came for?”
Corian’s eyes twitched to the object and flickered in recognition.
“You didn’t reassign it?” he asked softly.
“Who would want an Armati tainted by what you did? By what you are?”
Corian seethed, but did his best to keep it under control. Few people could push his buttons quite the way Edvard did.
“I am what you and the empire made me, and I’ll take that back now,” he said calmly.
“Will you?” Edvard asked. “You know, in training I never could take you. You were the best of us, but you’re not looking so good right now.”
“You have over a dozen carbines and more blasters aimed at you.” Corian shook his head. “Give it up, Edvard. You’re still worth a little more alive than dead.”
“I think we both know that if this little coup works, I don’t keep breathing.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Corian said, shaking his head.
Edvard smiled slowly. “I think it does.”
The emperor moved so fast he seemed to blur. The men covering him opened fire, but they were aiming at where he used to be, not where he was. He swept the Armati up as he moved, the weapon responding to his link automatically. It lengthened, flowing outward from the hilt, blade beveling and curving as he brought it around.
At the end of the arc, a fraction of an instant after he started to move, metal met metal and sparks erupted into the room as the Armati in the emperor’s grip slammed dead into another Armati wielded by his target.
Corian met Edvard’s eyes over the crossed blades and smirked slightly. “You sent a Cadre team after me, Edvard. Did you really think I wouldn’t replace what you stole?”
“They’re everywhere,” Brennan hissed softly, ducking back from where he’d been looking around the corner.
Lydia stared, wide-eyed and fearful. “What do we do?”
Brennan looked helplessly about, not wanting to speak the truth—that he had no clue whatsoever.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, not able to come up with anything else. “Just … we have to get away from them.”
She nodded, not having any better idea herself.
The two worked their way back from the men searching the wing, trying to find a way around them and out into the main part of the castle. But the infiltrators seemed to have every route covered. Brennan was feeling more and more desperate, knowing that he had to figure out a solution or bad things were going to happen to them both.
I can’t believe I’m trying this hard to keep a promise to Kayle.
Normally he’d make it a point of pride to disappoint his perfect older brother, but that line of thinking seemed more than a little petty at the moment, even to Brennan.
“My skimmer,” he finally said.
“What?” Lydia looked over at him sharply.
“They’re between us and every path out,” Brennan said, “but my skimmer is on the roof.”
“I am not getting in that thing with you flying, Brennan Scourwind!” Lydia hissed angrily. “I’ve not forgotten—”
“We don’t have a choice! Look, I’m sorry I tried to freak you out, OK?”
Lydia shot him a look that probably would have killed a man in a just universe. “Oh, now you admit you did it on purpose?”
“Yes, all right? I did it on purpose.” Brennan groaned. “Look, there’s no choice unless you want to take your chances surrendering …”
Lydia grimaced but finally nodded.
Brennan managed not to sigh in relief, instead grabbing his sister’s hand and running in the opposite direction from where they’d been heading before that. All the fighting was focused around the entryways, and so far the roof access was clear.
Kayle Scourwind led with his Armati Bene, cutting down three of the attackers from behind before they even knew he was there. The blaster in his off-hand barked a dozen times, filling the air with the smell of lase chemicals and superheated blood. The six-man squad he’d found hit the ground at the same time, but he had no time to give them a thought as he stepped over the bodies and entered the residency wing with purpose.
Bodies littered the floor, both those of Imperial guardsmen, the dedicated branch of military that protected the emperor and his family, and those of the attackers. Kayle didn’t have the time or inclination to bother identifying them, though he had his suspicions.
They’re using gamma burster carbines, he noted wearily. The only way they could have gotten those weapons in significant quantity is with major backing from the Senate.
The bursters were relatively new technology, still restricted and quite expensive. Despite being designed with combat in mind, they had a tendency to overpenetrate targets. That made them, perhaps, exceptional weapons for an open battlefield but poor excuses for gear in situations when you might have mixed environmental situations.
Perfect for killing Cadre, if you don’t care for the lives of anyone else.
His armor was cycling slowly through the nonvisible frequency ranges as he soft-stepped through the halls he’d once called home. As he got deeper in, it seemed that the fighting was wrapping up, and it appeared that the guardsmen had not been on the winning side.
“Any sign of them?” Kayle overheard an invader ask, while he leaned quietly against a wall and didn’t move.
“A squad thought they saw the girl and maybe the younger brother heading up for the roof. They’re in pursuit,” another responded.