And so they left the Tower and made their way through the confusion of the streets, then down beneath the surface, descending to the Imperial Palace by secret, hidden ways. And so they went down into darkness, heading for Hell.
Elsewhere in the chaotic streets of the Parade of the Endless, Finlay Campbell and Evangeline Shreck and Julian Skye followed Young Jack Random as he led a small army of rebels and underground supporters toward the Imperial ground troops' main command center in the city. The center was supposed to contain the main decision makers and strategists of the planetside military. And despite everything the underground had done to try to cut them off from their forces, they were still very much in charge. So all that was left was to shut them down the hard way, by brute force. Unfortunately, since the command center was set inside a massive steel-and-stone bunker and guarded with practically every weapon known to man, it promised to be a very hard job. Which was why the underground leaders had volunteered Young Jack Random and the others to go and do the job. That was what happened when you got a reputation for achieving the impossible.
So Finlay slogged his way through the streets, shooting at everything wearing a uniform, and wondering what the hell he was going to do if and when he finally reached the bunker. He had no doubt he'd think of something annoying to do to it, probably involving high explosives. He was on a roll, after all. He could feel it. But somehow he had a strong feeling that breaking into the bunker was going to be a real bastard. He didn't even have any of the incredible Maze people with him this time. Just one possibly rejuvenated esper, Julian Skye. Still, they were being led by the legendary Young Jack Random, hero and savior, who apparently could do no wrong. According to all reports he'd practically turned back the Imperial invasion on Mistworld single-handed. Maybe he'd think of something.
Finlay wasn't sure how he felt about Young Jack. The man was brave and daring and a great fighter, to be sure, and heroic as all hell, and he always seemed to know just the right thing to say to motivate his followers, but… Perhaps it was just that the man was too perfect. Even the greatest of heroes was supposed to have some flaws. Young Jack didn't even belch after a good dinner. Finlay smiled despite himself. It had been a long time since he'd felt jealous of anyone. As the Masked Gladiator, he'd been unbeatable in the Arena, and adored by all. And now here he was, following Young Jack Random like all the others, forgotten and ignored in the great hero's shadow. Finlay shrugged. He could live with that, for now. There was work to be done.
Evangeline was also lost in her own thoughts. She was back on Golgotha again, back in the Parade of the Endless, not far from her father. Her hated, despised father, who loved her as a woman, not a daughter. Evangeline had fled to Shannon's World, but now she was back. And it wouldn't be long before Gregor Shreck found out, and then the threats of torture or death to her friend Penny would begin again. Evangeline scowled, barely seeing the crowd around her. Maybe she could get the underground leaders to promise Gregor's safety, in return for Penny's release, unharmed. They owed her a favor, after all she'd done for them. If Penny was still alive… she wouldn't put it past her father to have killed Penny in her absence, out of spite. He was quite capable of such a thing. In which case she would find him and kill him, and to hell with the consequences. Finlay would understand. He knew all about revenge.
Julian Skye was thinking about revenge, too. About Blue Block in general, and BB Chojiro in particular. He had loved her with all his heart, and she betrayed him to the torturers and the mind techs. And sometimes it seemed all he lived for now was a chance to make her pay. Now, at last, they were in the same city again. When the rebellion was over, he'd find her, no matter where she hid, and then he'd make her suffer as he had. (Or maybe he'd fall on his knees and promise her anything, if only she'd love him again. He still dreamed that, sometimes. In his worst nightmares.) Julian Sky gripped his sword tightly, and the smile that stretched his mouth had little of humor in it. First the rebellion, and the cause he'd given his life to. There'd be time for personal revenge afterward.
All three had volunteered to be part of the gravity-sled armada, for their various reasons, but the underground leaders had been unwaveringly firm that they were needed here more. So they fought their way through the packed streets, following Young Jack Random, and did their best to keep their inner turmoil at arm's length until they had time to pay attention to it.
And so they fought their way through the madness in the streets, taking on troops, Security men, and anything else the Empire could throw at them. At every turn there were more armed men, as the increasingly desperate Imperials struggled to stop the rebel forces advancing on the command center. Energy guns flared, explosives tore holes in the packed forces on both sides, and swords and axes swung in bloody arcs. Dead and wounded alike fell to be trampled underfoot. No one had the time to see to them. There was only the endless, almost hysterical push forward by the rebels, and the slow, panicking retreat of the Imperials. Steel blades swung in short, brutal arcs, punching into yielding flesh and out again, and blood ran like rivers in the street, choking the overflowing gutters. Men fell and the push went on, and the command center drew slowly nearer.
And right there, at the front of it all, Young Jack Random stood tall and proud, swinging his great sword with both hands, and no man could stand against him. Their swords could not touch him or defend them from his wrath, and the men behind him roared his name as a battle cry. Finlay and Evangeline stuck close behind him, and were too busy to be jealous. Finlay was fighting at the peak of his powers, a dazzling display of swordsmanship that would have drawn cheers from his old Arena fans. Men actually tried to turn and run rather than face him. Finlay smiled his wolfish smile and killed them all anyway. He was doing what he was born to do and savoring every minute.
Evangeline guarded his back and his blind spots with dogged efficiency. Finlay had taught her how to use a sword, though she never felt any of his dark joy for slaughter. She fought as a means to an end and nothing more, and only sometimes suspected that for Finlay the means was the end. Julian Skye's esper powers crackled on the air around them, deflecting disrupter beams and the occasional grenade. Now and again he'd gather his strength and let rip with a psistorm that sent armed troops flying helplessly in the grip of sudden storm winds, but mostly the fighters of both sides were packed too closely together for him to achieve much. He carried a sword and a gun, and used them with brisk efficiency. The fighting went on, time lengthening beyond counting, till both sides were ready to drop from exhaustion. And still Young Jack called his people on, to death or glory, and the destruction of Empire.
The rebels pressed forward, inch by inch, paying for every step with blood and death, until finally the command center's steel-and-stone bunker appeared at the end of the street before them. The sight gave new heart to the rebels, and they roared their triumph as they surged forward behind Young Jack, driving the demoralized defenders back and back. Only the narrowness of the street and the fact that there was nowhere for the troops to run prevented a complete rout. And so the troops fought viciously, like the cornered rats they were, and through sheer desperation again slowed the rebel advance to a crawl.
The struggle went on, tides in the fighting moving this way and that, and Toby Shreck and his cameraman Flynn were there to cover it all, broadcasting live to the watching Empire. They hovered precariously above the crowd on a commandeered gravity sled, just high enough to keep out of range of the fighting while still close enough to get all the gory details in close-up. Flynn sent his camera swooping back and forth over the surging crowd, searching out the best footage, while Toby hung over the edge of the sled, narrating a breathless commentary with a voice grown rough through smoke inhalation and overuse. Both men were using every upper in Toby's collection to keep them sharp and alert after so long on the air, and they had long since abandoned impartiality and distance for an almost hysterical need to capture history in the making. They both knew they'd never cover so important a story again. They spied the familiar faces of Finlay, Evangeline, and Julian, waved cheerfully, and called for them to smile for the camera. Finlay gave a short but very emphatic answer indicating that he was rather busy just at the moment, and Toby made a mental note to edit that bit out of any future repeat broadcasts. Flynn kept his camera rocketing back and forth, getting as much coverage of the bloodletting as he could. The viewers knew what they liked, and had to be coaxed to keep watching, even if this was history in the making.
Young Jack hacked and cut his way through an army of defenders, blood spilling onto the ground and streaming around his feet. His muscular arm rose and fell tirelessly, and none of the enemy could even touch him. His broad grin never wavered, and his calm eyes never blinked, no matter how close a sword blow came. He went for body shots, mostly. Short, vicious arcs that slammed his long sword into stomach and rib cage, and out again in a flurry of blood and guts. Traumatic wounds that stopped enemies immediately, but still left them staggering around to get in the way of their fellows. Their cries of pain and horror had great psychological effect on the enemy troops, while heartening the rebel side. And perhaps only Finlay and Evangeline and Julian found time to consider that such unpleasant methods weren't really what might be expected from a renowned hero like Jack Random.
