intended me to. I have no way of knowing what instructions they left in my mind, or how much influence my energy half has over the rest of my mind. How much of what I do is my own agenda, and how much is theirs. Stay close to me. Investigator. Watch me. And if need be, kill me. I don't want to be a Judas goat for the whole human race.
'But still, sometimes, I wonder what happened to my other human half. If it's still alive, somewhere. If the aliens will give it back to me when they return. One last temptation, a weapon with which to control me. After all, I'm only human. So I put my life in your hands, Investigator, as I have in others before you. Do what is necessary, Shoal. Whatever the cost.'
'Damn right,' said Shoal. 'I swear it, upon my word and honor. That is how you trained me, after all. As a matter of interest, what happened to the others before me?'
'I outlived them,' said Half A Man. 'I've lived a very long time, after all.'
'Of course. Is there… anything else I can do for you? Any other reason you summoned me here?'
'Yes, but not what you're thinking. Those urges were taken from me, along with everything else. I need you to carry out a sensitive operation later today. While everyone's distracted with the preparations for the ceremony, kill Mother Superior Beatrice of the Sisters of Mercy. Make it look like a rebel assassination. She's upset too many people with influence, and they want her dead. And since I need their support to carry out my ongoing mission, she must die. Make it quick but messy, and be very discreet. We don't want the Sisters of Mercy getting mad at us.'
'Understood,' said Shoal. She got to her feet and bowed briefly to Half A Man. 'I'll put the matter in hand. Get what rest you can, sir. We have a lot of work ahead of us if we're to put down the rebellion here.'
'We have to,' said Half A Man. 'The aliens are still out there. The Empire must have this new stardrive if it's to stand against them. It can't afford to be distracted by petty squabbles like this.'
In the boiling summer heat, Cardinal James Kassar stalked up and down before his assembled Church troops, working himself into a state. The troops stood stiffly to attention in their ranks, ignoring the heat and the sweat that evaporated on their skin almost as quickly as it formed. A few had passed out and had been left to lie where they fell. They'd be flogged later. Kassar had been talking and yelling at them for a good half hour and showed no signs of slowing down. The gist of his speech, interrupted by frequent prayers and exaltations, was the pride and purity of the Church of Christ the Warrior and the utter depravity of the Church's many enemies. Kassar had all but worked himself into a froth of rage and frustration, but the troops weren't that impressed. They'd seen it all before. Kassar could turn it on and off like a tap.
They were all paying careful attention, though. Partly because it took their minds off the heat, but mostly because the Jesuit commandos were prowling between the ranks, hoping to find someone not paying attention, so they could drag him out and make an awful example of him. No chance of that this morning. For once the Cardinal had something to say that was actually interesting, not to mention vitally important. On his own initiative, Kassar was sending them down into the tunnels under Technos III, to wipe out the rebels and regain their pride after being beaten so resoundingly in the past. Of course, this time would be different. No small group in battle armor, but the entire Church force with no armor, hand weapons only, and a new battle drug the Church had been dying to try out on somebody. The troops would have liked to look at each other to see how everyone else was taking this, but the Jesuit commandos were still prowling, so everyone stared straight ahead.
'Battle armor was a mistake,' Kassar admitted, standing still for a moment so he could stare commandingly at his troops. 'There's not enough room to maneuver down in the tunnels, and the built-in disrupters are all but useless. Armor just weighs a man down and gets in his way. This time you travel light, move fast, strike at will. The new battle drug was created in our own Church laboratories. It fires a man's faith, makes him faster, stronger, meaner. His strength is as the strength of ten because his heart is pure. A pure man with this battle drug in his veins could slay an entire army, armed only with the jawbone of an ass. And you will be very well armed. Those hell-damned Rejects won't even know what hit them.
'My friends, we must win this battle. Not just because the Empire depends on us for its security upon this factory's stardrive production, but because our enemies at Court and beyond are using our previous defeat here during the rebel attack for their own propaganda, to force us from our rightful place at the Empress Lionstone's side. We must regain our pride, whatever the cost. Remember, those who die fighting in the Church's name are sure of a place in heaven. If we fail, if our faith is found wanting, then those who survive will be recalled to Golgotha for debriefing by the Church interrogators. I know you would all rather die than see us return in disgrace.'
He paused to look out over his flock and nodded with pride to see them staring unflinchingly back at him. 'The Jesuit Fathers will move among you now, distributing the new drug and giving each group its orders. Assemble back here in half an hour, full field kit and weapons, ready to take the drug at the Fathers' commands. Regretfully, I cannot be with you. I have other pressing duties here. But I will be with you in spirit. Make me proud of you. Make the Church proud of you. Descend into the darkness below and kill every living thing you find. For the glory of God and the Empire, kill every rebel man, woman, and child, until none remain to spread defiance on this world.'
Down below, in the honeycomb of tunnels and caverns carved out of the many layers of metal far below the surface of Technos III, rebel life went on as normal. The people lived in shifts so that progress was never slowed and they might never be caught napping. The Rejects had many enemies, from the world above to the wild creatures far below, and they had learned to be constantly prepared. Jack Random, Ruby Journey, and Alexander Storm were being taken on yet another tour by Specter Alice, to impress upon them the need for outside support.
'We can feed and clothe ourselves, and we raid the upper world for whatever else we need, but there are always shortages,' said Specter Alice. 'Ours is not a life of comforts. We are born into the struggle, give our lives to it, and die for it in the end. Few of us live to old age. Unless they're crazy, like me. We are fighters, first and foremost. Even in our deepest, most protected places, there is little time for leisure. The tunnels must be maintained, food hunted and preserved, our territory protected. We have schools. We tap into the factory computers. We're not barbarians. But the struggle must always come first. We take it in turn to man the trenches and endure the changing weathers of the world above. You say you need our help to stop the factory's work. Then send us fighters and energy weapons. We'll do the rest.'
She broke off as Ruby Journey stopped abruptly. Everyone else stopped and looked back at her. The bounty hunter had made little attempt to hide her boredom, only there because Random had insisted, but now the sour blankness had left her face. She looked straight ahead, her dark eyes far away, seeming huge in her pale, pointed face.
'Someone's coming,' she said softly. 'A large force from above.'
Storm looked quickly about him. 'I can't hear anything.'
'I can feel it,' said Ruby. 'Jack?'
'Yes. I feel it, too. One hell of a large force, headed this way. They've already broken through into the upper tunnels. Alice, sound the alarms. I have a strong feeling we are in a world of trouble. Ruby, lead the way.'
She was off and running, sword in hand, almost before he'd finished speaking. Jack charged after her, leaving Storm to hurry along in his wake as best he could. Soon men and women of the Rejects were joining them from side tunnels, running effortlessly beside them with all kinds of weapons in their hands. They had no time or breath for idle chatter. It was enough that the tunnels were under attack. They knew what to do. They'd trained for it all their lives. They ran silently, the only sound the growing thunder of the pounding of their feet on the steel floors. The thunder rose as more and more joined the charge, heading relentlessly toward the upper tunnels. Until finally they came upon their enemy, the Faithful, cutting a bloody path through the outnumbered defenders. The Rejects howled their fury and threw themselves upon the Church troops. Steel clashed and blood spilled, and soon the tunnels were packed with struggling fighters.
The Faithful pressed steadily forward, screaming their chants and war cries, their eyes wide and fierce in their taut faces. The battle drug burned in their veins and fired their minds. They were more than human now, unbeatable emissaries of God, performing a holy duty. Victory was inevitable. They slammed into the rebels, swinging swords and axes, their drug-fueled strength beating aside the weapons of their enemies. There was neither room nor time for individual duels. Both sides fought where they could in the milling mass that seethed this way and that, spreading slowly out through the great maze of tunnels and caverns. Blades rose and fell, and men and women fell and were trampled underfoot. Some rebels tried to flee with the youngest children, but the Faithful seemed to be everywhere, blocking the exits with drawn swords. And the drug that burned within them showed no mercy to woman or child. There was running and fighting in the corridors, war cries and screams, and blood
