The blade bit deep. Searing pain sucked the ability tospeak, to make any kind of sound, away from Lucius for a moment. But only for amoment. When she yanked the sword out, he screamed. He stared down in disbeliefat the red stain blossoming across his white toga as blood gushed from thewound. “Why … how could …you …” He choked, gurgled, drooled blood. Itsbitter tang filled his mouth.
Aura stabbed down again. Lucius felt everything go hazy. Hiseyes rolled back and he stopped thrashing.
Aura dropped the sword. She stepped back, chest heaving asshe sucked in great ragged breaths. She stared a moment at the two dead bodies,then turned to the side and was noisily sick. A few moments later, she wipedher mouth and looked up at the hulking mecha-gladiator. A large brass arm camedown and settled gently on the ground next to her. She nodded up at the pilot’schair.
A mechanical voice said through a speaker, “This is butanother great moment in the cause of liberty.”
Aura nodded, looking down at the corpse of the heir to thethrone. She felt a brief moment of sadness that was quickly replaced by joy.She had succeeded where others had failed. “Shall we make our getaway?” shesaid lightly.
In response, the cockpit opened and a middle-aged manstepped out. He climbed down the hand, using the many armored segments like aladder. They came together for a quick hug, then they raced off, disappearinginto the crowd now pressing closer to the scene of the assassination.
Captain Kartinis and his crew arrived five minutes too late.Looking up at the mecha-gladiator standing quiescent next to the bodies, heknew that, even had they shown up in time, their weaponry would have beeninsufficient against the monstrous automaton.
Around them, people in the crowd wept openly; others simplystared, grim-faced. Leaving half of his command to contain the scene andrecover the heir’s remains, he began the slow ride back to the palace. He spentthe journey trying to figure out how to break such tragic news to the mostpowerful man in the Empire.
Alas, there was no easy way.
Chapter 9
The speaking tube gurgled. The officer of the day leanedforward in the command chair and unstoppered the device to listen. The voicewas teeny but clear as it exited the tube: “Sir, I have a skimmer on the horizon.Colors are friendly. It’s flashing the pass code of the week.”
First Officer Travins confirmed and restoppered the speakingtube. He turned. “Captain, topside lookouts report a skimmer coming this way.Recommend we come to a heading west-southwest for the landing.”
“Very well, Mister Travins, follow the landing procedures.Have the stern batteries manned as well and extend the landing platform.”Captain Alexandros opened the bridge portal and moved toward the landing dockat the stern of the ship.
Claxons began to wail. Red lights pulsed, splashing thehallway with the color of blood as men donned vests of light flak armor andraced to their battle stations. A squad of airmen raced past, their apologieslost in the howl of a ship coming to combat readiness. By the time the skimmerhad circled the airship Scioparto, the retractable landing platform hadbeen winched down from the open rear decks and extended out. Two large steelarms held the narrow wooden platform firmly in place.
The skimmer pilot brought his small recon vessel directlyunder the aft portion of the dirigible. Two rotating propellers on either sideof the main body kept the small skimmer stable as it gently descended onto thelanding platform. The whine of the engines cut off, and the propeller bladesslowed, then stopped. The mechanical arms holding the platform beganretracting. Finally, with a bang of steel and wood meeting, the landingplatform returned to its original place. A squad of airmen trained to act asground crew moved forward, securing the skimmer to the deck with thick ropesrun through loops on the deck. “All secure!” shouted the senior enlisted man ondeck.
Alexandros studied the skimmer, which looked like a cigarthat had grown wings and spouted large barrels on either side. The end of theskimmer was wasp-like and needle sharp. It was possible, technically, for askimmer to kill an airship by “stinging” it to death. With the exception of the“ stinger,” engines, and glass cockpit window, the skimmer was created entirely fromwood to save on weight. To further save on weight, the craft were piloted byboys and some girls between the ages of twelve and fifteen. Althoughestablished Air Fleet doctrine, Alexandros thought this was pure idiocy. Who intheir right mind expected a thirteen-year-old to understand the militarycomplexities of a battle? Their brains had not yet developed enough to functionfully!
Realizing he was philosophizing again, Alexandros quicklybrought himself back to reality and watched two crewmen help a small figurefrom the cockpit.
The pilot strode toward Captain Alexandros and stoppedbefore him. The young man’s head barely came up to the medals on the olderman’s uniform. “Sir, request permission to board your airship, Captain!”The last word came as a squeak as the boy’s voice cracked. His hand came up ina crisp salute that stopped just short of the bill of the wool and leatherflying cap on his head. Several nearby crewmen sniggered as his voice broke,and the lad’s face colored, but he did not give in to the temptation to chewout the technically junior deckhands.
Alexandros returned his salute. “Permission given. What isthe nature of your visit? You have a private message?” Alexandros doubted that;most messages could be exchanged through the wireless set just off thebridge-although it had been quiet for the last few hours.
“Sir, the message is to be delivered only upon my decisionthat the location is secure and private. Is there someplace we can talk?” theboy asked. This time his voice didn’t squeak. He rubbed his hands together andlooked around, the gesture making him look older, until he added plaintively,“Perhaps somewhere out of the wind?” Skimmers were not exceptionally warm atany altitude, or in any season.
Smiling, Alexandros gave a crewman an order to go to thegalley and round up some food. If he remembered anything about his teenagenephews, it was that they were always hungry. While his crew stood down fromtheir battle stations, the captain strode back into the shelter of the bridge,the young pilot on his heels. The portal closed behind them, cutting short thewind gusting across the platform. The pilot sighed.
“Recon Pilot Second Class Fero Juvas Garius, sir,” the boyanswered when Alexandros asked him his name. “Based at Fort Tiberius on theskim launcher Praecedo under Wing Commander Silenia Juna Octavia.”
Alexandros nodded. He had met the wing commander, briefly,at a soirée held in Roma a few years back. She was incredibly young, but shehad an exceptionally strong sense of strategy and was ahead of the curve ofmany of her classmates at the Northern Fleet Command’s Air Academy. She wasalso an incredibly gifted dancer. He smiled at that memory.
They climbed up a level to Deck B, stepping off the ladderto walk down the short hallway to the captain’s quarters occupying the sternquarter. An armed airman posted at the door saluted and swung the door openwith an accompanying, “Sir.”
Alexandros nodded at him. “We’re expecting someone from thegalley in a bit. Please knock and send them in, Airman Yanis.”
As the door slid closed behind them, he walked behind hisdesk and took a seat in the leather chair. He leaned back. “Now, what messagedo you have?”
The young man shuffled through his messenger bag and pulledout a metal cylinder, sealed at both ends. One end had a keyhole. “If you’llexcuse me, sir, I’m not allowed to know the contents of the message. I’ll stepout for a moment. If you need me, I’ll be in the hallway.” Pilot Garius salutedagain, turned on his heel, and left the room, closing the door behind him.