The Prize: Book One (5 page)

Four thousand Imperial troops stood in an open square on the parade ground, all dressed in their red and blue dress uniforms, and waiting to march pass in review for the Emperor's birthday parade.  Earth's bright yellow GO sun flashed off gleaming medals and gold colored buttons.  Flags fluttering gaily in the light breeze, the deep blue sky had just the right amount of fluffy white clouds to give it depth and meaning.  That picture was forever frozen in his mind, playing over and over in those dark lonely hours before dawn.  The band played a lively tune as the high-ranking officers and functionaries mounted the reviewing stand, smiling and joking with each other as if they didn't have a care in the world.  They lived far from the daily carnage outside the perimeter of the new Capital city.  They never had to retrieve the bodies of Imperial troopers slaughtered in an unsuspecting ambush, or see the result of a human IED on some lonely roadside.  It was no wonder few troops wanted to do convoy duty, or house to house searches.  The chances of returning from such a mission were slim to none.

From his vantage point on the fourth floor of the new Imperial HQ building, it was the perfect day to display the Empires might, and power to the local neo-barbs, not that they were invited.  A few of the more trusted ones, mostly slaves, turncoats, and a few lackeys crowded along the electrified perimeter fence.  Most of Earth's population could watch by beam cast, transmitted to the giant view screens located throughout what remained of the human cities.  It became apparent later, why so many people in those cities stood in the streets in the middle of the night, or the pouring rain, watching those monitors. They knew what was about to happen, and yet he, the Commanding General of IMPSEC never heard so much as a whisper.  The last person to mount the stand was the Planetary Governor with his wife, and three young children.  Beside him stood his senior administration staff with their wives and children, smiling and waving to the crowd of Imperial citizens, and colonial bureaucrats.  They were too far to see if they waved back, or just spat on the ground at the gesture.  Just then, seemingly, out of nowhere a beautiful young human girl in a bright summer dress suddenly materializes, smiling and waving to the crowd, a bouquet of colorful flowers clutched in her hand.  She walked slowly to the center of the parade ground and the reviewing stand, as if to formally present the flowers to the Governor.  It didn't occur to him at that moment to wonder why any human would offer such a gesture.  She was like any number of beautiful young girls he'd had the pleasure of 'interrogating', and for a moment he toyed with the idea of making her his next self-appointed interrogation assignment.

Then came that awful moment he so desperately wanted to forget, the moment when she reached the center of the parade ground and stopped, turning to face the troops.  As if in slow motion, he watched her smile, then wave to the dignitaries before ripping off her dress.  At that moment, time as he understood it slowed, and it seemed as if he had zoom vision, seeing every detail her lovely young body.  The long slim legs, high proud breast just blossoming into snowy, pink tipped mounds, her golden hair shining in the early morning sun.  It was then, that he saw the clear plastic cylinders filled with shiny ball bearing strapped to the front and back, of her upper torso.  The whistles and catcalls die away as they all saw what she was wearing.  He remembered thinking at that moment, that he wished she'd take the harness off so he could see her lovely body better, but like some magician’s trick her beauty distracted him from the true significance of the cylinder.  Not that he or anyone could stop what was about to happen.  Even shooting her would trigger the suicide vest.

How she got there, or why no one stopped her walking out onto the parade ground in the first place, he never knew.  He remembered the blissful smile on her beautiful face.  The tears on her fresh young cheeks as she looked up at the bright blue sky, one last time.  It was as if she were saying goodbye as she offered up her beautiful young body on the altar of freedom.  Closing her eyes one last time, she triggered the device hidden in the flowers.

The horror of the carnage was almost impossible to assimilate.  So many dead, so many horrible wounds, and the blood.  It was everywhere, coating the ground and walls of buildings as if some mad painter was at work.  As stunned as he was by the blast and carnage, it was nothing in comparison to the despair he felt when he later discovered that she was one of twenty-seven other young girls, who'd sacrificed themselves at the Emperor's Birthday parades all over the planet.  In one fell swoop, these human children had killed, maimed, and injured more Imperial soldiers, senior officers, and officials in an instant, than all the human soldiers had in the entire rebellion.  It was by the grace of the Holy Mother he wasn't out on the reviewing stand with the other dignitaries that day, and yet.  In those dark lonely hours before dawn when he lay in bed, shivering at the memory, he sometimes wished had been.  At last, he managed to shake off the dark memories, and adjusting his cap he exited the ground car and walked into the Imperial HQ building.  He silently cursed the Director of IMPSEC for forcing him to relive those memories again. 

CHAPTER FOUR:             

Shackled to the floor in the center of the shuttlecraft, Richard Penn contemplated the view out the side window, seeing air cars zipped back and forth in the traffic lanes between the hellish glitter of the Capital City's mega-skyscrapers.  Garish advertising lit the sides of the tall buildings, promising everything from absolution to zarco sex, whatever that was.  This place was the epicenter of the Tellurian Empire, the gleaming metropolis by which they judged all other cities in the Empire.  Everything spread out from here to its far-flung reaches.  Its laws, fashion, culture, religion, even hairstyles.  It mattered not that the Empire imposed them at the point of a gun, as any dissent, or resistance could bring down the wrath of IMPSEC, and the Imperial Military at a moment's notice.  To Penn's eyes this place was nothing but a stinking cesspool, no matter how many twinkling lights they tried to cover it with.  There was nothing majestic, or grandiose about the place, and nothing to make it stand head and shoulder above other cities as it claimed.  It was nothing but a hollow shell, all glitter, and fakery.

It reminded him of some over-dressed whore, trying to hide her faded glory under a new coat of garish makeup.  Only the country bumpkins from the outer reaches of the Empire, were fooled, and those that didn't know any better.  For a brief moment he looked wistfully up at the canopy of stars.  Somewhere out there was Earth, the cool green hills beckoning him home.  Sadly, Penn knew that day would probably never come, seeing nothing but a lifetime of servitude to the Director of Imperial Security and Intelligence stretching before him.  Penn looked out the side window at the lights of the Capital beyond, seeing them stretch away to the horizon.  Somewhere out there was the object of his hatred, so near and yet so far.  Out there, was Emperor Cytec and Director Markoff, but nothing he could do at this moment would, bring him one step closer to killing either of them.  Instead, he savored his ice-cold anger, and took in sights of the mega-city far below.  His time would come, sooner or later.  They’d make a mistake before, give him a longer leash, forget to lock a door.  It didn’t matter what, he’d be ready for that moment so he could kill more of these bastards.

Even at this late hour, the streets below were full of people, mostly slaves coming, or going about their daily business, or heading toward some dirty hovel, they called home.  Penn saw how they lived first-hand during a prior escape, and it reminded him of the books he'd once read, about ancient Rome.  A small group of power elite at the top standing, on the backs of the poor and slaves, protected from the mob by the swords, or in this case, the guns of the military, and IMPSEC.  With implants and constant IMPSEC monitoring, it wasn't hard for the few to control the many.  Far below the denizen tried to scratch out a meager existence, or served the Empire in some way.  Down there was a cutthroat world, as each tried to claw their way out of the cesspool, and find a better life.  Not that there was much chance of that.  The Var power elite made sure the lower class didn't get too far up the ladder before IMPSEC kicked them back down again.

Many were third and fourth generation slaves from many worlds, conquered, or enslaved by the Empire, and brought here against their will to serve.  If things didn't change, their grandchildren and great grandchildren would be slaves as well.  In some ways, not unlike himself.  Imperial Security made sure the poor never became a threat to the Emperor, or the power elite, and in the past IMPSEC had eradicated whole sections of the city, guilty and innocent alike to quell an uprising.  They also periodically poured lethal nerve agents down the sewer, and tunnel system under the city to kill off the insect, rodent, or sentient life that might hide down there unseen.

IMPSEC's iron hand filtered down through every layer of Imperial City life through its system of spy cams, traffic monitors, block police, agents, and snitches, and nothing went on unless IMPSEC permitted it, even the crime syndicates.  IMPSEC made sure they got their cut first, or you didn't stay in business long.  Gambling, drugs, prostitution, slaver rings, and any illegal business paid their dues, and flourished under IMPSEC's watchful eye.  None getting powerful enough to become a threat to the status quo.  He wondered if the Captain sitting against the cabin wall, knew or cared about the history of this glorious Empire he now served, betting he didn't.

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The Captain in question sat with his back to the wall, not that it made him feel any more secure, and contemplating his... prisoner or guest?  He wasn't sure what this person's status was.  His orders were to take him out of prison, bring him here and give him anything he wanted, within reason.  Carras wondered what the human was thinking about.  Escape probably.  Director Markoff's orders were to prevent him from escape at any cost, short of killing, or permanently injuring him.

They'd told him little else, not even that he'd be escorting a human, so the first sight of him coming out of that cell was a shock, but what had he actually expected, a monster?  This man… or kid, was one of those fabled rebels who'd refused to surrender when they lost the uprising fifteen years ago.  The story wasn't public knowledge, but a story soldiers whispered it to each other over a drink, or in a quiet corner of a Kaf parlor.  Embellished, and enlarged as it went from mouth to mouth.  Had the Empire actually slaughtered four billion of them?  That was a question he'd dearly wanted to ask, and yet.  If the other half of the story were even remotely true, that might not be such a good idea.  According to the whispered story, these human's were so mad they would kill anyone, including each other at the drop of a hat.

Looking at the young man sitting cross legged in the center of the shuttle, he didn't see anything unusual about him, other than his odd colored eyes.  It was beyond him what made humans so dangerous.  A well built young man, just over two units tall, good-looking some might say, with an almost boyish face, under short reddish gold colored hair.  He didn't appear to have any natural weapons such as claws or a thick armored hide.  No extraordinary muscular development like the Esterian, or extra limbs, in fact, nothing that made him as dangerous as they said.  Other than a smart mouth and a lousy attitude, he was no more threatening than a dozen young soldiers he encountered with on a daily basic.  Just a little taller, and maybe a little stronger than the average.  The current story going around was that this human had deliberately crashed a shuttlecraft into an Imperial Guard barracks, and personally killed two hundred trained guards.  True or not, Carras felt safer with him shackled to the floor.

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If he thought their prisoner was docile, he was very much mistaken.  Without even looking, Penn's highly tuned senses told him in which direction they were going, what altitude they were at, the position of each guard, and countless other bits of information.  His conclusion was that it wasn't the right time or place to try and escape again.  Having decided that he relaxed into watchful meditation as he gradually relaxed his left hand.  Hidden with his crossed legs, he slowly folded his hand in half until the ball of his thumbs touched the outer edge of his palm, thereby making his hand narrower than his unusually thick wrists.   Even with the muted thunder of the main engines, to cover any sound, he was careful not to drop the steel cuffs as he slipped first one, then the other off his wrists.  It wasn't much of a trick, just a little painful, as he flexed his hand a few times to ease the pain, and get everything back in place.

At last, the six-hour flight ended in the growing thunder of the lift engines as the shuttle settled gently onto the roof of a building.  His escort shook themselves awake as they thumped down, hearing the whine of the landing jack electric motors as they took up the load, leveled the craft.  Standing, Captain Carras hit the control to lower the rear ramp, looking around in the dim light just in time to see his prisoner stand.  He did it in one smooth, flowing movement, with none of the stiffness you'd expect from someone who'd been sitting on an icy deck for six hours.  The way the prisoner stood distracted him for a split second before it dawned on him his prisoner shouldn't be able to stand at all.  Before he could move, the young man walked over and held out the cuffs.