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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] them in the chapel the heat-packs detonated, one by one. The fire began as a slight red glow, gradually growing larger and larger, and then a blinding flash of white. Each pack was like a miniature nova. The heat radiated out, farther and farther, with white glow blending into white glow, until the whole chapel was blinding white. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html The drapes and regimental banners were the next to go, crisped in the instant fire-storm. And the golden statues began to bubble and then melt. A molten river of gold streamed across the floor as the statues melted like so many giant snowmen. Air howled through the hole in the roof and the open door like two tornadoes as atmosphere rushed to fill the semivacuum created by the fire. 110 And then, with a roar, the entire temple exploded. That second blast shook the Citadel to its foundation. It hit the dining room like an earthquake, flinging Jann to the floor. The enormous room was in chaos. Men shouted meaningless orders that no one was heeding anyway. On the stage Khorea dragged himself out from under the table, pawing for his weapon. He was appalled at the hysteria raging about him. A wild-eyed Jann officer ran toward him. waving his gun. Khorea grabbed the man, but the officer struggled free and ran on. Khorea grabbed for a mike. In a moment his voice boomed through the huge dining-hall speakers, demanding order. It was a voice trained on a hundred battlefields and brought almost instant response. Men froze in place, recovered, and then turned to stare up at him. But before he could issue any orders, the main doors blew open and Sten's killing squad waded in. They punched through the unarmed cadets, ignoring them, and fanned out across the room in three-man teams, firing into the Jann officers on the stage. A young cadet lunged at Sten with his ceremonial dagger. Kurshayne grabbed the boy with one hand and hurled him across the room. Behind Sten, Alex lifted an enormous table and threw it into a group of charging cadets. It sent them reeling back, effectively out of the fight. Sten flipped a pin grenade into a group of officers, and they disappeared in a hurricane of arms and legs and gouting blood. The wall beside him exploded, and he whirled to see a Jann officer getting ready to fire again. Kurshayne swung that monster shotgun off his shoulder and triggered it. The officer shredded in the hiccuping boom of the cannon. Ffillips plunged forward onto the stage itself just as Sten and his team got moving again, up the other side. Sten spotted Khorea instantly, recognizing him from Ma-honey's briefing. He slashed his way forward, going for the ultimate target. But there were dozens of men between him and the general. They died bravely, but they died just the same, trying to protect their general. And Khorea saw Sten and instinctively recognized him as the leader of the attack. Khorea clawed his way forward. He wanted desperately to kill Sten. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html 111 A group of Khorea's aides rallied, grabbed the general, and, ignoring his shouts of protest, did a flying-wedge toward the rear of the stage. Sten had one last, fleeting look at the man's white, spitting face as the aides earned him through the rear door and disappeared. Then Sten went down under a pile of bodies. They punched and kicked at him, fighting each other in their blind fury for revenge. Sten slashed and slashed with his knife. And still they kept coming. Sten could feel numbness spread through his body. Alex and Kurshayne fought desperately to get to him. For fear of killing Sten. they had to use their hands. Hurling men away, smashing skulls, and literally ripping limbs from bodies. And suddenly they were there. There was no one in front of them but a battered and torn Sten. bleeding from a dozen superficial cuts. Alex pulled him to his feet. They looked around for more Jann to kill. There was nothing but pile after pile of black-uniformed bodies and Ffillips' commando teams, grimly making the same search. Sten spotted Ffillips across the stage. She gave him a large smile and a thumbs-up sign. It was over. Before the Jann cadets could rally at the loss of their cadremen. the mercenaries were moving across the stage and out a side door. Outside the Citadel, the mountaintop ran with rivers of fire. Vosberh had done his job well. All the barracks were crackling and exploding. Sten, Ffillips. and their people linked up with Vosberh and Egan's troops at the start of the exit roadway. They were in loose formation, ready to move out. "Casualties," Sten snapped. "Three killed. Two stretcher cases. Ten walking wounded. It was a walkover." Vosberh reported. "None," Egan said proudly. Ffillips looked mournful. "Seven dead. Twelve more wounded. All transportable." Sten saluted his subcommanders and turned to Alex. pointing at the downward S-curving roadway. "We'll walk this time." 112 "Ah'm w'y', lad," Alex said. "M'bones ae t' oldit to play billygoatgruft wi' again." The mercenaries moved out briskly. Behind them, the Citadel and its dreams of death and glory flamed into ruin. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html CHAPTER NINETEEN THE DOCTORS HOVERED over the wriggling, leechlike creatures, waiting for them to shoot their potent narcotics into Ingild the Prophet's veins. They were the perfect parasites for an addict, creatures who traded euphoria for a few calories. Ingild waved at the doctors impatiently, and they carefully coaxed the tiny bulbous monsters free of his skin. Ingild sat up and motioned the men away. The doctors scattered, not bothering with their usual professional bowing and posturing. The "False" Prophet (as Theodomir would have called him) was in a snit. He glanced around the throne room at his guards, trying to compose himself before the comforting ego-drug took effect. A little over half the guards in the throne room were black-uniformed Jann. Ingild fought back instinctive paranoia, even though he knew that in this instance it was a correct psychosis. The Jann guards, he realized, were more interested in watching Ingild than in protecting him from possible assassins. The rest of the guards were members of Ingild's own family, which made him relax a little. He pushed aside the thought that there was an excellent possibility they had been subverted by the Jann. The symbiotic narcotics began to filter through, and he felt a faint wave of relief. He was Ingild, and before him all men owed allegiance. 113 114 Ingild, like his counterpart and opponent Theodomir, was a middle-aged man, not too far into his second century. But unlike Theodomir, he looked as if he was near the end of his time. Ingild was wizened, his skin blotched and peeling. His head featured a bald dome with unhealthy strings of hair dangling from the sides. A traveling medico had given him the reasons for his scrofulous appearance many years ago. The doctor had said that Ingild's deep-seated fears counteracted the benefits of modern longevity drugs. Ingild had the man executed for his advice, but had kept the compu-diagnoses and scrolled through them several times a day for insight. A Jann guard walked over to him, very correct and military, but Ingild could sense the contempt. "Yes," Ingild said. "General Khorea," the guard announced. Ingild covered the wave of fear and nodded at the guard. Khorea entered, made a slight bow, and strode over to the throne couch. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |