Adum was slow, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what was happening, and he found himself reaching into his pocket and pulling out the fire shooter that the sleepers had given him. He fired it; and his aim was true. The fire shooter did not recoil against the rigid strength of his arm. The overseer who had killed the smart man fell. The bullet had pierced his left eye, and it blew most of his brains out the back of his head and onto the other overseers.
The rock-wielder’s arm reared back and let loose. Adum saw the rock speed past him, and time seemed to dilate. The rock struck another overseer’s gauntleted hand, causing his fire shooter to fly from his hands. it pinwheeled through the air and skittered across the concrete, landing at a hammerhead’s feet. He recoiled back from it, thrusting his hands on front of him in a gesture that said “Not my fault!”
Suddenly the struck overseer blurred, unstuck from time as he shot across the expanse between himself and the rock hurler. He bowled through the thick swath of gathered workers like they were mere blades of grass, parting them like a scythe. Then he raised the rock hurler over his head and brought him crashing to the concrete with a sickening thud. The sight of the man’s head being reduced to pulp caused Adum’s gorge to rise.
One of the other hammerheads clamored for the fire shooter. Years of snatching circuit boards off assembly lines and soldering tiny transistors and data chips to them had given his limbs a deft quickness that was now an unexpected boon. Before any of the Mendraga could react, he had the weapon in his hands.
The fire shooter issued its thunderous report, and the back of the second Mendraga’s head exploded in a black mist. Adum didn’t hesitate; he lined up his sights and fired again, killing the last remaining overseer.
The working men cheered and clapped each other on the backs. Some were crying.
One of the Tarsi stood up on the hoverbikes: Bayorn. And around him stood several of the biggest Tarsi Adum had ever seen. Like Bayorn, their claws glimmered in the moonlight, and their teeth were as sharp as knives.
Bayorn issued a gravelly roar that caused Adum’s blood to reach a feverous boil. He found himself returning the war cry. Then Bayorn walked over to him and extended his hand. Adum cocked his head. He felt stupid, ashamed, as all eyes fell on him.
“It’s okay,” the Tarsi said, extending his hand again. Adum extended his own, and the Tarsi grasped it, pumping it up and down.
“It is time to fight, Adum. Are your people ready?”
“Yes. The sleepers gave me the fire shooter,” Adum said. “They told me that the fight was coming. And they gave me this.” Adum held out the access card that would open up a cache full of fire shooters.
“Is this what I think it is?” Bayorn asked.
Adum nodded.
“Excellent!” Bayorn shouted. “Let’s go. We must make haste.”
“But, Bayorn, who will lead my people?” Adum asked.
“It seems as though they follow you,” Bayorn replied. He gestured to the crowd. “See how they look at you.”
Adum swelled with pride and thought of his son. He wished that the boy could see his father now.
He raised his hand and began to speak slowly so that they could all understand. “Go to your homes. A fight is coming. Tarsi and workers will fight together, when the time is right.”
The men nodded to one another and began to exchange the odd hand-shaking gesture that Bayorn had demonstrated. Then they disappeared into the oncoming night like shadows, leaving the bodies of the Mendraga in the street.
****
Alastor burst into Abraxas’s private quarters.
“My Lord, the working caste have attacked a group of overseers!”
“What? Why is it not showing up on my scanner?”
“Someone has disabled the security protocols for that sector. I have been unable to establish communications with any of the overseers in that area. Another overseer heard gunfire and went to investigate. He found three dead overseers, and their weapons were missing.”
Terror filled Abraxas, and though it was not a particularly pleasant emotion, he relished it as it surged through his body like wildfire.
“My Lord,” Alastor continued, “what are your orders?” His eyes were wild, full of doubt. Seeing that doubt stung Abraxas more than any level of defiance ever could. It set off a chain reaction in Abraxas’s own mind. What if he had been wrong to scold Alastor earlier? Perhaps he had underestimated his hold over the city.
Letho Ferron is coming, Abraxas thought. Let him come. I shall drink his blood from a bowl made from his very skull.
“Lord Abraxas?”
Abraxas searched his mind, spinning up the ancient organic computer that rested inside his skull. Who had the clearance to disable security protocols? There were only a few. Premier Watt sprang to mind.
No, not her. She wouldn’t dare. She cares too much for her own well-being, he thought. It had to be someone a little bolder. Perhaps older, with less to lose. Someone who had a working relationship with the hammerheads who now appeared to be in full revolt.
“We have a greedy rat in our nest, Alastor.”
At last it came to him, as the infinite coils of his intellect fired with the heat of a billion synapses. In a flash, he knew. He saw the man’s face as though it were projected on his holoscreen.
“Wake Steigen. Drag his putrid carcass out of his pod,” said Abraxas.
“My Lord?”
“Do as I say,” Abraxas hissed.
****
Alastor returned with two Mendraga supporting a bedraggled Steigen, who was too weak to walk. He had lost some weight in his hibernation, yet he did not appear to have aged a bit. His head lolled like an infant’s, and his body seemed incapable of enacting his brain’s commands. Alastor deposited him in a chair before Abraxas.
All of the air seemed to seep from the room as Abraxas studied the chancellor. Abraxas’s eyes burned like hate-filled embers, and his taut lips quivered as he fought to clear his mind enough to speak to the sub-creature before him. He hadn’t bothered to put on his ceremonial headdress, and Steigen recoiled in abject fear as Abraxas turned his naked gargoyle head to the side. When it turned back, a cruel smile wrapped itself around glistening teeth.
Steigen was the first to break the silence. “My Lord, this is very irregular. Is there something wrong?”
Steigen’s inert limbs were trembling, and his face was as white as the paper smock that hung from his shoulders.
“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” Abraxas snarled. “You and I both know that you have been very bad.”
Steigen’s lips were drawn, quivering. Unbidden tears began to sparkle at the edges of his eyes. “My Lord, this is all very confusing. What are you—”
“SILENCE, FOOL!”
Abraxas rose to his full height, his roar still reverberating in the small room. In a blur he was on Steigen, lifting him from the chair by the throat. “I will destroy every last member of the Corpus Verum for this!” he snarled, putrid spittle misting from his mouth.
Steigen’s eyes whirled in his sockets like a rabbit caught in a snare. Then calm washed over him, and he began to laugh between gasps for air. “You and I both know you can’t do that,” he gasped, his face turning purple. “You can’t control this city without us. You will be unable to maintain order.”
Abraxas roared again, and hurled Steigen through the air. There was a sickening meat-thud as his body collided with the wall. Steigen crumpled to the floor, a limp sack of flesh and pulverized bones.
“Alastor, send the human conscripts, along with a complement of overseers, to the slums. Kill anyone who raises arms against us, including their pathetic families, and burn their homes. Double the watch on the Fulcrum dormitories as well. Lock them down. Kill anyone who attempts to enter or leave. All remaining Mendraga must report to the palace immediately.”
He paused, then added in a cool whisper, “Oh, and I almost forgot: send a detachment to the front gates. We mustn’t forget about the visitors we will have this evening.”