The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy) (15 page)

The guard on her right climbed out and she was pulled and pushed from the car. Richard stood a short way off, his gun already drawn and pointing at her. The second guard was in the doorway of the car, about to pull himself out.

She gauged the moment. Richard would not panic, he was too confident for that. He knew he could stand off and shoot her down any time he wished. The key fact was her belief that he would not panic. That allowed her to reduce the odds.

She thrust her leg backwards and round in a short arc, her heel connecting solidly with the side of the sitting guard's head, smashing his skull into the edge of the car door. A spray of blood spat from his mouth and he tumbled onto the sand.

The guard standing in front of her hesitated. This was what he had been afraid of. This woman was dangerous. He reached for his holstered gun. Too late!

Ursa rammed her forehead into his face, hearing the crunch of his nose breaking, feeling the blood spatter her face. Without pausing, she swept his feet from under him with her leg and, as he fell, stamped down hard onto his throat. She felt his windpipe collapse under her heel.

As he struggled and jerked in the sand, unable to breath, unable to save himself from dying, he finally drew his gun from its holster only to immediately lose grip on it. It fell close to his body as he twitched in the final spasms of death.

Richard had not moved. He still stood some distance from her. He still had his gun aimed at her. When he spoke his voice was calm and clear. She had been right about him. He had not panicked.

"Very impressive Ursa. Am I meant to applaud or something? Pity it was all a waste of time."

Ursa shrugged, a painful movement with her hands tied so harshly. She forced herself to appear calm, resigned to her fate.

"It served a purpose for me. I needed to release some of the aggression that's been building since I learned of your treachery."

Richard laughed, but his gun never dropped its steady aim.

"I admire you, I really do. I wish we could have been closer before you found out about me. It could have been... interesting."

The shudder that ran through her was involuntary. She had, at one time, almost convinced herself she was falling for this man, this 'Richard' who dropped into her life occasionally. She had even contemplated allowing her desires to take over. After all, there would have been no need to worry about 'pillow talk' with another member of the T.I.C.. Had he suspected? Did it really matter now? Funny how something so trivial should come to mind at such a time.

"I'm sorry your efforts have all been for nothing," said Richard. "But I think it's time to get this over with."

Quick. Study.

Thoughts raced through her mind.

Where is his weakness? Everyone has a weakness somewhere. What is he afraid of?

She thought back to the scene in the office, Suzex's shout, Richard jumping.

Suzex!

"I bet Suzex is going to be pissed that this turned out so messy."

He hesitated. She saw it in his eyes, the hesitation, the slight doubt. It was there!

"I bet he's not the forgiving type, as an employer I mean. That's all you are, isn't it Richard? An employee? There's no cause is there? Just money. And there's always more employees to be found for the right price."

She could not be certain what effect her words were having, but the important thing was that he still hadn't pulled the trigger.

He'll still do it
, she thought,
but I've planted a small seed of doubt about how he'll look at the end of all this. I've got to try and push him further off balance
.

"Two dead Aksian soldiers, Richard. Killed while you just stood and watched. Mayor Lane's not going to be happy, and my guess is that Suzex wants Lane treated gently at the moment. Something big is on the horizon and Lane features prominently in Suzex's plans."

He was beginning to shuffle slightly from foot to foot, both the heat of the sand and the beginnings of a fear for his own future causing him discomfort.

"All that matters is that you will be dead," he shouted, the control of his voice so evident earlier now lost. "Suzex will understand, you bitch, and you'll be buried out here along with those stupid soldiers!"

You bitch.

It was the first time he had insulted her. He was losing his composure, his calm, even something of his self confidence.

"You're in the shit, Richard, and you know it."

She watched the barrel of the gun intently. It was beginning to move ever so slightly. If it would just move enough...

"It won't save you."

Any pretence at calm was gone from his voice now. He was angry, worried. What she said had made some sense to him. Everyone had heard rumours of Suzex's ruthless reputation with employees who proved less than worthy.

She forced a smile. She must now seem the confident one, the calm one.

"I know I'm dead, Richard, but I bet you didn't think you would be too."

The barrel moved another inch. It was no longer pointing directly at her.

Now!

She dropped towards the discarded gun of the dead Aksian guard, falling onto her back on top of it.

Richard's finger tightened on the trigger instinctively, as she knew it would, but his aim was off enough to send the explosive shells whining safely past her ear as she fell.

She scrabbled for the gun blindly, her hands digging into burning sand until she felt her fingers were being seared off. She screamed in agony. It was there somewhere. She had to find it!

Richard recovered from the momentary shock of Ursa's sudden movement. All thoughts about what might happen to him later were thrust into the background as he turned his attention to the now. She was clever. She had thrown him off balance just enough to make her last desperate attempt at escape. He was shaking with anger as he turned the gun towards where she struggled on the sand.

She had it!

Her fingers gripped the barrel of the guard's gun.

It had taken longer than she could afford. She knew that. Desperately, she threw herself over the guard's body and rolled.

The first two shells from Richard's gun thudded with an unpleasantly wet sound into the dead Aksian's side a moment before the explosive charges shattered his rib cage and sprayed blood, bone and tissue in a wide fan on the sand.

Ursa shifted her grip on the gun, closing her fingers over the stock of the weapon, her index finger curling round the trigger.

She rolled onto her side, looking back over her shoulder as another shell exploded a plume of sand close by. She cried out as minute grains peppered her face and hands.

Her aim would have to be guesswork, but she knew she could turn the gun, fire in a reasonably wide arc. Somewhere within that arc she was sure she could find him.

As she opened fire, a further shell hit her ankle, the explosion shattering the bone, leaving her foot attached by the slenderest of bloody tendons. A searing agony coursed through her whole body, too much for her even to scream. She opened her mouth, but no sound escaped. Tears ran down her face and for a moment she thought she would black out.

But she kept firing, as though her trigger finger was part of a separate being. While the rest of her body raged against the pain and loss of her foot, her finger kept pulling, her hand kept sweeping the aim back and forth. And suddenly she realised that he had stopped firing.

She had not seen the first shells hit their target, but now, as she opened her eyes, she saw the last two of her shells tear his stomach apart in a bloody cascade. The sand around him was speckled red. Indefinable fragments littered the desert in a wide circle. At its centre stood Richard, dead even as he remained upright, eyes wide and staring. His right arm had gone, and with it the gun he had been firing. His stomach poured gore down his legs to pool at his feet.

Her gun had clicked empty several times before she finally stopped pulling the trigger. She watched now, in stunned disbelief, as his body folded, crumpling to the desert sand to lie in a disorganised heap.

I've done it. I'm alive!

Her jubilation was halted by another stab of agony from her leg. The heat from the explosion had cauterised the wound, she knew she would not bleed to death, but she could not stay here in the desert.

The air car could be set, with some effort given that her hands were tied behind her, so that it drove her back to the suburbs, but what then? She needed a place to rest, to recover, to hide, and before long she would need a place to eat and drink. And she needed to contact the Inner Council.

She almost laughed. She had never really believed she would live through this, so no plans about what to do afterwards had even been considered. Her Special Forces training had taught her to survive on an absolute minimum. Now seemed to be a good time to put it into practice.

Chapter 28

Loadra sat alone in his suite of rooms aboard the space station 'Armistice'. The officials of Stain had worked hard to provide well for their visitors, and his quarters were luxurious after the relatively cramped conditions aboard the Controller's Space Cruiser. The area he sat in was resplendent with plush furnishings, a generously thick carpet, wall paintings that were, thoughtfully, copies of Earth's Old Masters, hanging drapes that served to conceal the basic functionality of the walls, large armchairs set in a loose circle facing inwards. Elsewhere in the suite there was a grand bedroom and a bathroom that was larger than his whole cabin on the Cruiser. And everything was fitted with the latest technological advances.

He hated it!

He tried to relax into the soft bio-plastic of one of the armchairs, allowing it to mould around his shape, caressing his body, so the publicity said, "with the gentleness of a lover". He tried to ignore the Reagold logo subtly inlaid into the arms of the chair, almost invisible save for when the sitter shifted position and the light glinted off the swirling 'R'. It's effect was almost subliminal, the Reagold logo insinuating itself into the mind, a more powerful marketing tool than any advert or campaign.

Thoughts of the Reagold Corporation were a welcome, if unpleasant, diversion from the even more unpleasant thought of the impending treaty. He pursued them eagerly, almost desperately, remembering one of his tutors at the seminary, a High Priest by the name of Shigra, responding angrily to a question from a student.

The lecture had been on 'The Unholy Necessity Of Technology' and presented a problem that was as old as the Priesthood itself. The basic unholiness of all things technological versus the obvious need for the Priesthood to understand and make use of the same. It was an age-old paradox that many more experienced theological minds than a group of first year students had debated, but it was still considered an important element of a Priest's education. The question had arisen in response to High Priest Shigra's deliberately contentious statement that nothing good had come out of technology.

"Surely an organisation such as the Reagold Corporation has improved many people's lives with its devices?"

Shigra's response made one fact clear to the young Loadra, it was fine to debate technology but the Reagold Corporation was something else again.

"The Reagold Corporation is an abomination!" Shigra's shout had shocked the student body into complete silence and stunned attention.

"Everywhere you go in this galaxy you will see its spawn. You all know the logo, I'm sure. Well, remember it and despise it, for it depicts all that is sinful and unholy in this life. We have spoken before of the heretical beliefs of the Larnian religion on Aks, but let me tell you that the Reagold Corporation is a much greater threat to our way of worship than any heretical faction within our religion. The Reagold Corporation has poisoned more minds with its materialistic heresy than any number of Aksian Missionaries could ever hope to do. We must use technology, our world is a technological world, but beware of Reagold and its insidious ways!"

Loadra smiled as he recalled Shigra's outburst. It had been so unusual, so unexpected, that he doubted any of the students present that day had ever forgotten it. Shigra was a man in total control of his emotions at all time, except for this one memorable occasion.

He glanced at the clock on the far wall. At this very moment the Controller was discussing the final arrangements and details surrounding the signing of this damned treaty with his political and security advisors, and representatives from Armistice's home planet, Stain. Loadra had neither been invited nor wished to attend. He knew he no longer had any hope of dissuading the Controller from pursuing this line to peace, he had realised that some time ago, and now he was fearful for the future.

What good could possibly come from the cessation of hostilities with Aks?

The Controller and the Aksian Leader both spoke of the number of lives lost on both sides, and it was true that many millions upon millions of people had died in this conflict, but what did that really count against the importance of the true Larnian faith? The Aksians who had died deserved to die because of their adherence to their abomination of a belief. The Earthmen who had died had done so in glory, serving the true Larn, and their reward was secure in the Larnian heaven. Many priests had also died in the war, most tortured and mutilated by their Aksian counterparts, but there were always more volunteers. The priesthood did not call for peace, they called for a continuation of the jihad until the Aksian heresy was eliminated from the galaxy. Loadra did not believe that the people of Earth, or at least the majority who were true believers, wanted peace either, but they had been persuaded by the clever rhetoric of the Controller and his politicians.

He knew he could no longer stop the treaty from being signed, but plans were already under way for the period following the treaty. The Larnian Priesthood could not stand idly by and allow their faith to be corrupted by the Aksian heresy.

A High Council had been called in Loadra's absence and a decision had been reached. The Larnian Church on Earth was large and powerful, but its material wealth was limited. There had been a time when the Church could call upon the government of Earth to provide sufficient funds for any project they desired, but as the war had driven onwards, more and more resources from the government were required for its continuance and, consequently, other causes, including the Larnian Church, had suffered. The decision of the High Council had reached Loadra just four hours ago by the secret and secure lines of communication always maintained between the Church on Earth and its High Priests as they travelled the galaxy. Not even the Controller knew of this. Although couched in the official language of a High Council decree, the underlying message was clear: The Church needed additional funds to proceed with the plans for Earth following the treaty. After much deliberation, the High Council had reached the unpleasant but practical conclusion as to the best source of those funds. Consequently, a representative of the Reagold Corporation would be contacting him. The meeting must remain confidential.