brain.'
Giles clapped Owen on the shoulder, making him jump.
'Well done, kinsman. You fought a good fight, for an historian.'
'I could have used some help,' said Owen. 'Why didn't you two join in?'
'Oh, I couldn't allow that,' said Giles. 'It wouldn't have been sporting.'
'Stuff sport,' said Owen. 'This is war.'
'And war is the greatest sport of all,' said Giles. 'You're an historian. You should know that.'
'It's only sport to the victors,' said Owen. 'Not to the victims and the orphaned and all the poor bastards dragged into it against their will.'
'Uh, guys,' said Hazel. 'I think we have a problem…'
They both looked round to follow her pointing hand. The sundered energy half was still standing where they'd left it, but its shape was slowly changing. The coruscating energy pulsed and flowed, pushing at the boundaries of its form. It was becoming something else, something different, no longer bound or dictated by its human half. The slowly changing shape grew more disturbing as it became more distinct, until Owen had to fight not to look away. It was becoming alien, and more than alien. It had width and breadth and depth, and other dimensions, too. Owen couldn't see so much as sense them, and they made his head hurt. Hazel fired her disrupter at it, and the energy beam bounced harmlessly away. The energy shape burned horribly brightly, like a hole cut in reality through which some malign god's light was shining. And then it was gone, and the memory of it faded thankfully from Owen's mind like a nightmare best not remembered. Owen let his breath out in a long shuddering sigh, and only then discovered that Hazel was gripping his arm so hard it hurt. She let go as soon as he saw it and pulled her composure briskly about herself again.
'Well, that was different,' she said, just a little breathlessly. 'Anyone here have any ideas as to what the hell that was? Or what it was becoming?'
'A problem for the future,' said Owen. 'As I have a horrible feeling it'll be back someday, along with the aliens that created it. We may only have traded one threat for another.'
'Let them come,' said Giles. 'Let them all come. They'll be no match for the Empire we shall create. Now let's go. We don't want to keep the Empress waiting.'
He strode off down the platform, and Owen and Hazel fell in after him. Hazel looked at Owen.
'I hate it when he gets all confident like that. It's just asking for trouble.'
'I couldn't agree more,' said Owen. 'But at least as long as he's in front of us, I don't have to worry about what he might be doing.'
'And when the shooting starts, we can hide behind him,' said Hazel. 'He's wide enough.'
'I can hear every word you're saying,' said Giles calmly. 'And I don't find it in the least amusing.'
'Tough,' said Hazel. 'Serves you right for eavesdropping. And get a move on, or I'll kick your ankles.'
'I wonder if it's too late to go back to the rebel leaders, and ask for some new companions,' Owen said wistfully.
They came flying out of the scarlet sun on the early-morning skies, a vast armada of fast-flying gravity sleds. There were thousands of them, blackening the sky, one-man sleds with souped-up engines for more speed, armed to the teeth with bolted-down energy guns and heavy projectile weapons, with long ribbons of bullets. They came in low, well below the usual sensor levels, and were over the Parade of the Endless and heading for the pastel Towers of the Families before any of the Clans even knew they were coming. They whipped between the tall buildings of the city, rising and falling on the thermals, flashing by too fast for the automated weapons systems to draw a bead on them. Thousands of sleds shot across the city, manned by rebels, espers, clones, anyone with a raging need for justice in their hearts, and a willingness to fly into Hell itself for a chance at bringing down the Families.
They swept over the struggling crowds in the streets below, ignoring the fighting. That wasn't their mission. An occasional weapon fired up at them from the heaving masses below, but the sleds were small, evasive targets, hard to hit. The Empire's huge gravity barges tried to block their way, hovering in place like floating battle stations, but there were only a few of them, and the sleds just soared over and around them, come and gone in seconds, too unpredictable for the barges' computerized firing systems. No one had ever thought to use one-man sleds like this before. Until Jack Random did. They filled the skies, thundering along, with the sun at their back, heading for the Towers, an army of retribution flying on wings of fury.
Jack Random, Ruby Journey, and Alexander Storm led the way, flying side by side. They'd lowered the sleds' force shields for more speed, and the wind of their passing whipped at their faces, driving tears from their eyes. The early-morning chill cut right through them, despite the heating units in their outfits, but they ignored it, intent on what was to come. Storm felt it the worst in his old bones, but he just clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering, and concentrated on keeping up with the others. He wasn't going to be left behind.
Random looked down at the Parade of the Endless flashing by below him, and found it hard to believe that after all the many years and all the many battles, he'd finally brought his crusade home to Golgotha. To the Families who ran and ruined everything in the name of profit and privilege. They outlawed him and banished him, did their best to break and kill him, but now here he was, back to present them with the bill. And payback was going to be a real bitch.
He laughed aloud, the wind whipping the sound away almost before he heard it. The Empire was going to fall today, and he was going to help bring it down. And when he had it on its knees and begging for mercy, he'd spit in its eye and kick it in the teeth. He worked the sled's throttle mercilessly, trying to force out even more speed, but the sled was already exceeding its safety limits. Random could see the first of the Towers in the distance, and he couldn't wait to get to them. The Clans had to know he was coming by now. They'd have set up their defenses, adjusted their computer aiming systems to compensate for the sleds' speed and maneuverability. They'd be waiting for him. And he didn't give a damn. This was judgment day, and he was bringing down the hammer. It was almost enough to make a man believe in religion. He grinned harshly, the wind forcing his lips back into a wolf's snarl. It was a good day for someone else to die.
He looked across at Ruby Journey. In her black leathers and white furs, standing rock-steady on her bucking sled, face grim and implacable, she looked like some dark Valkyrie out of legend, come to take the dead heroes to Valhalla, whether they wanted to go or not. Her sled was loaded down with weapons of all kinds, right up to the last ounce of weight that wouldn't interfere with her speed. Everything from energy guns to grenades to throwing knives. Ruby liked to be prepared. She looked around, caught his eye on her, and grinned at him. She was on her way to a lifetime best in looting and mayhem, or quite possibly her own death, and she'd never looked happier.
Random smiled back at her, then turned to look at Storm, flying on his other side. The canny old warrior had strapped himself securely onto his sled, but even so he still seemed to shake and shudder with every sudden movement of his craft. His long mane of white hair flew out behind him as he stared unflinchingly into the rushing wind. He was too old for this kind of mission, and everyone knew it, including him, but he'd insisted on coming along, and Random hadn't had the heart to say no. He understood Storm's need to be in at the kill after giving so much of his life to the struggle against the Empire. So he'd put the old man right next to him, where he could keep an eye on him, and just hoped Storm could keep up. Hopefully the old warrior's reflexes would keep him alive long enough to reach the Towers. A lot of people weren't going to make it. There were bound to be heavy losses once the armada hit the Towers' main defenses. Everyone in the armada knew that. But they'd all volunteered anyway. They knew the one-man sleds were the only force fast enough, mobile enough, and versatile enough to get past the defenses and into the Towers. Where the Families thought they were so safe.
Ground forces would have had to struggle for days against the heavily manned and armed Towers, fighting their way up floor by floor to reach the Families barricaded in their heavily defended top floor. Losses on both sides would have been enormous, with no guarantee that the Families wouldn't just abandon their Towers and flee elsewhere before they could be captured. Gravity barges had guns strong enough to blast a way in, but they were too slow, too unwieldy. The Towers' superior firepower would have blown them out of the sky before they could get close enough to do any real damage. Espers were helpless in the face of so many known esp-blockers. Which was why the Clans had retired to the Towers—the one place where they felt really safe—at the first sign of real trouble.
Random was here to teach them different. He'd thought about this plan for years, in the trenches and foxholes of endless battles on endless worlds, dreaming of what he'd do when he finally brought the war home to home-world. He'd thought of every problem, refined every detail, and now here he was, living his dream. Do or die. Death or glory. And he couldn't have been happier either.
