Riva felt the explosion like a punch in her stomach and a club against her head. Sharp pain shot from her ears inward, then an incessant ringing filled them. Her lungs burned as she fought to breathe, but she could only gasp like a fish out of water. Blood slowly leaked from her nose and tasted salty against her lips. Slumped against the wall, with Kym lying unconscious— or dead—across her legs and her pistol blown just out of reach, Riva fought against panic.
A Death Commando strode into the room through the smoke and stood above them. "Women! I should have known." He shook his head slowly, his helmet's mirrored faceplate and computer-modulated voice utterly devoid of emotion. "Henderson always said dames would be his death."
Riva lunged for her laser pistol, closing her right hand around its cool, plastic grip. She brought it up, but faster than she would have thought possible, the Death Commando swept forward. Using the muzzle of his autorifle, he batted the pistol out of line with his body even as her finger tightened on the trigger.
The bolt of coherent light sizzled through the air and struck the end of Banzai's watermelon. The beam burned through the green rind in a nano-second, then instantly converted the fruit's water-filled pulp to steam. The melon exploded with a muffled thump, spraying organic shrapnel all over the office. The melon's structural integrity destroyed, the tensometer's top plate slammed down, liquefying the rest of the melon and grinding it into the metal plate below. Suddenly, equipment on the far wall started a hideous wailing and a tape of Dr. Banzai's voice filled the room.
The Death Commando spun. The autorifle in his right hand lipped flame as he sprayed a full clip over the equipment making noise. Sparks flew from the machines as the bullets savaged them. Ejected shells flew in an arc from the rifle, then stopped when the breech snapped open, demanding again to be fed.
As the Death Commando dropped the spent clip and reached down to pull a fresh one from his belt, Riva tracked her pistol back in line with the Death Commando. Her finger tightened on the trigger as he filled her sights. The first bolt hit him on the inside the right thigh, blasting him back against a lab table. The second and third pulses of coherent light burned through his armor chestplate like an arc-welder's torch through cheap tin. The Liao Commando jerked convulsively, then pitched over dead.
Riva stared at his unmoving body and started to tremble. Lost in a maelstrom of fear, anger and revulsion, her thoughts ran wild. You’re in danger, Riva. Think! Think! Concentrate on something! You've got to get yourself and Kym out of here!
She heard Dr. Banzai's voice, strong and even, repeating the same message over and over again. Grabbing at the sound, she used it to fight her way back to sanity. What he was saying didn't matter at all, only that he sounded calm and normal in a situation that was anything but.
Riva rolled Kym over onto her back, then checked her for pulse and respiration. She's just unconscious, bleeding from the nose and ears.She grabbed Kym by the armpits and dragged her deeper into the room. Armed with both the Foxfire and the laser, Riva crept back to the dead Commando and stripped him of weapons and ammo. She intended to return to Kym, but bright lights and the whine of autocannon from outside brought her to the window. She stared out at the battle unfolding below and shook her head. "No, Doctor. I think you're wrong."
Banzai's taped voice again repeated its loop. "This was just an experiment. The watermelon was unimportant except that it shows that you should not touch something you do not understand. This was just an experiment, but next time you could ruin something real."
Riva narrowed her eyes. "No, Dr. Banzai, this time it's very real. It looks like the war has come to New Avalon."
42
New Avalon
Cruris March, Federated Suns
10 September 3029
Angry, Hanse Davion sat upright in bed. He glanced at the darkened screen of his holovid viewer, but forced himself to leave the remote control where it sat on his nightstand. No, Hanse, you’ll not watch that editorial again. No matter how often you view it, the words will not change. New Avalon Broadcasting has every right to say whatever they wanted—that's part of the game. I just received news that the sixth wave seized planets between the front and Sarna. The editorial ignored this success, but that's part of the game, too.
Though he was alone in his bedchamber, the Prince answered himself aloud. "It may be part of the game, dammit, but this is nothing short of a personal vendetta . . ." He threw back the bed clothes, and clad only in Mech Warrior shorts, slid from bed. "I refuse Karl Green's request to have his son posted in a non-combat area, which the boy didn't want anyway, and now Green uses his broadcasting company to attack the war as senseless aggression."
The Prince stared out through the curtains of his bedroom window at the lights of the New Avalon Institute of Science. Face it, Hanse, you resented his painting you as a man who has torn children from their mothers and husbands from their wives in a mad quest for power. He suggests that you are incapable of sympathizing with the common folk in your realm.... that you are an emotionless dictator. . . .
The Prince turned and stared back at his empty bed. Would he understand that I, too, have felt the separation and loss caused by the war. Would he believe that my one choice was to fight Liao in his own realm or to fight him in mine?
Hanse's internal voice answered him. For a man like that, all explanations are just lies covering other lies. He'd find some deeper, more sinister motives for your actions. You only tell him what you want him to know, and he digs for more. It's part of the game, and the key is not showing him how much his attacks annoy you.
Hanse rubbed the unshaven stubble on his chin. "But do the people— mypeople—believe him? And does he tell more of the truth than I allow myself to see? When I first came to the throne, I saw myself as a caretaker of my brother's realm, but that time is long gone. Have I become some kind of dictator out for personal gain?"
A DropShip burning low through the sky near the NAIS drew the Prince's attention. He smiled. "As long as DropShips keep bringing in Liao 'Mech salvage, Green will probably not have too much support. True patriots never listen to complaints about a victorious war."
As the DropShip slowed, then sank toward the ground, something nagged at the back of Hanse's mind. Is there a shipment coming in today?He crossed to his desk and used the visiphone to reach New Avalon's Spaceport Control.
The clerk stationed at the phone jerked alert and smiled at the Prince. "Highness, what can I do for you?"
Hanse returned the young man's smile. "The DropShip that came in on an NAIS vector . .. what is it?"
The clerk's face drained of color. He turned, and in his nervousness, forgot to mute the speaker. "Henry, we're done. That DropShip woke up the Prince. Waddyamean, what Prince? ThePrince, you idiot! What was that ship's name?"
Henry, out of sight, yelled an answer to the question. Hanse heard it before the clerk could relay the message and his blood went cold. He stared into the visiphone. "Get tactical command and have them put aerofighters in the air. That ship's not the Camelot!"
The clerk's jaw dropped open. "How ... ?"
"Never mind how I know." Hanse said sharply. "Just do it!" He snapped off the connection, then whirled toward the door. That ship's an impostor. It can't be theCamelot, but only a handful of people know that right now theCamelot is carrying my wife back to Tharkad.