Livingstone, Lewis and Clark, and even Sir Stanley-without the controversy, I should hope! — shall be my inspiration.”
Krish’s eyes had glazed over and Koratin wasn’t even pretending to listen, staring out his own window at the passing city. “We here?” he asked suddenly, and Krish stirred, looking for himself. The congested avenue had broadened significantly, and the previously uninterrupted cluster of shops, stores, and other buildings abruptly ended. A large number of coaches and smaller, stylish buggies were gathered on the broad lawn in front of an impressive, columned edifice. Horses stood, cropping long, luscious grasses with coachmen attending them or still sitting patiently atop their vehicles. “Yes, almost, thank God.” He raised his voice so the driver could hear. “Take us directly to the main entrance and let us out there. You’ll have to find a place to wait as best you can.”
A whip cracked and the coach lurched forward, curving around a long oval drive toward the front of the Imperial Court of Directors. A moment later, the coach ground to a stop amid the rough, grating moan of wooden brakes on iron tires. Through the window Bradford could see a pair of Imperial Marine guards approaching.
“Can’t we just sneak in the back way?” Courtney asked, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief and running a final finger between the cravat and his neck.
“No, Your Excellency,” Krish replied, his voice harried, “but I will enter first. Aides come and go all the time. I’ll call you forward when it looks like your entrance will cause the least distraction.” Krish reached for the latch on the coach door.
With a brain-jolting crack of indescribable thunder and pressure, a roiling wall of opaque white smoke and dust swept over the Marines and flung the coach on its side like a child’s tiny toy. Bradford was slammed by one side of the coach, then hurled downward against the other. Dust and smoke invaded the interior through shattered windows, and it quickly grew too dark to see. Deafened by what could only have been a stupendous blast, the occupants of the overturned vehicle still felt the thing being slammed and battered by large, heavy objects. One particularly large fragment of one of the columns smashed down on the front of the coach, crushing open a new path for even more debris to enter. Smaller pieces pattered against the wooden shell for some time, but then there was only stillness and dark.
Courtney was stunned. He couldn’t breathe and felt something yanking at his neck. He tried to protest, but all he could do was cough, and his left side didn’t seem to be working. Suddenly, he felt something pressed against his face, and he lashed out with his right arm. His hand struck the pebbly rhino pig leather of the armor Koratin wore, and for an instant, he thought the strange Marine was trying to smother him. Then, through his panic, he realized he could breathe! Gratefully, he reached up and replaced the ’Cat’s hand with his own, holding what he now realized was the damned cravat over his mouth and nose. His eyes were full of grit and he kept them closed, but he sensed Koratin move away, probably trying to locate Krish in the gloom.
His hearing began to return. It was a dull thing at first, heralded by what sounded like a squealing belt inside his head, but he thought he could hear muffled voices as well. The squealing grew louder, but now it was out side, and he grimly recognized the sounds of agony. The loudest came from horses, he knew, but he’d also grown far too accustomed to the gut-wrenching wails of hopeless, terrified, dying men. He dared a peek through his gravelly, tear-soaked lids and saw the darkness had begun to fade. His left side was still numb, but he discovered he could move all his arms and legs and decided he must get up. He had no idea what had occurred; he was still too rattled to much consider it yet, but he had to get out of the shattered coach.
“Sergeant Koratin!” he croaked. The dust gagged him and he moved the cravat just in time to retch. He sucked in more dust and a coughing spasm threatened to overwhelm him. Finally, forcing deep breaths through the tightly woven cravat, he brought himself under control. “Koratin!” he called again more strongly, though his throat and lungs seemed on fire.
“Here,” came a clipped, strained voice, and a shadow reentered the coach through the shattered forward end. Courtney blinked repeatedly, letting the tears wash the worst of the grit from his eyes.
“Where’s Krish?”
“I don’t know. Maybe smushed.” Koratin rummaged through shattered timbers until he found his musket. The stock was broken right through the lock and the rear portion was missing. Swiftly, he slid the bands off the barrel and unscrewed the tang screw, letting the lock and triggerguard fall. Then he drew his bayonet and affixed it to the muzzle of the barrel, making a formidable, makeshift spear.
“What are you doing?” Courtney demanded. “Stop that foolishness at once! I need to get out of here and see what has happened!”
“I don’t know what I am doing,” Koratin growled in reply, helping Bradford to his feet. “When I do, I will know if I am foolish or not! Somebody has just killed many of the people here on our side. If we were not late, we would now be dead as well.”
Courtney suddenly realized the damned cravat had saved him twice! He let Koratin lead him through the shattered coachwork and into the open, chalky air. A dense fog of limestone, pumice, and powdered stucco still hung heavy, but there was also the unmistakable, acrid hint of gunsmoke. He looked in the direction of the building they’d been about to enter but couldn’t see anything. The haze was still too thick. Horses continued shrieking nearby, but their own team lay still, half-buried in debris. Of their driver there was no sign.
“My God,” Courtney murmured. “It had to be a bomb!”
“A very big bomb,” Koratin agreed.
There was shouting and dark shapes started running past them, toward the court building. There were just a few at first, but then the trickle became a torrent. Koratin tensed, but no one paid them any heed. All were running toward what was slowly resolving itself into a tremendous heap of rubble.
“My God,” Courtney repeated. “The Governor-Emperor-both their majesties were inside!”
“What remained of the entire Imperial government was inside!” Koratin snapped.
“Your Excellency!” came a cry, and they turned toward the voice. A man emerged from the thinning haze on the other side of the overturned coach. He was covered in dust and looked like a ghost except for the reddened eyes and the tears streaking the dust on his face.
“Why, there you are, Lieutenant Krish!” Courtney exclaimed. “I wondered what became of you!”
“I don’t really know, sir, but thank God you’re all right.” Krish turned his own gaze toward the court building. They could all now see that it had been completely destroyed. Only the far northeast corner still stood, and men were crawling all over the debris, shouting and calling for survivors. With an anguished sound, Krish started to run and join the rescuers.
“Wait!” Koratin demanded.
“But… the Governor-Emperor!”
At that moment there was another explosion far away, a dull boom they would have taken for thunder if the sky hadn’t been perfectly clear above the billowing dust. Even so, it sounded like it came from high in the air, and the report rolled down the flanks of the mountains that stood northeast of the city.
“That was the wireless station!” Krish exclaimed. “They’ve… whoever has done this has destroyed it as well!”
“To isolate us!” Koratin guessed immediately. “To prevent word or warning of this reaching… who?”
Courtney’s eyes grew wide and flashed at the men passing by. Most were civilians from the nearby shops, but he suddenly bolted toward one, a Naval officer, and caught him by the arm. “Wait, sir!” he cried. “Have you a ship? Equipped with wireless?”
The man tried to shake him loose. “Release me! I must…”
“What you must do is help us send word of this, and pass a warning to New Scotland!”
The man paused and glared. “And just who are you to command me?” he demanded.
Krish rushed forward. “Captain, this is His Excellency Sir Courtney Bradford, the ambassador for the western allies to the Imperial throne, and a particular friend of His Majesty!”
The man stopped straining to escape, and Courtney let go. “So?” he said. “That gives him no authority over me, but I will hear the reason for his request.”
“Um… Captain, is it?”
The man nodded.
“You may not have noticed, but we heard another explosion that likely took down the wireless aerial above the capital. With the preponderance of naval and newly arrived air power in the vicinity, I highly doubt this attack is a precursor to another Dom invasion, so destroying the wireless station must have been done to prevent us from sending a timely warning!”
