Read Online Firemask: Book Two of the Last Legion Series by Chris Bunch - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Chris Bunch
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Confederation member, actually as much of a bodyguard for the Council as Rao could devise.
Each woman or man had, concealed under their dress uniforms, two magazines for their blasters, and small handguns hastily grabbed from Hedley’s “contingency” armory. They were also well trained in unarmed combat and knife fighting.
Hidden inside a hangar, its doors open a slit, a warrant ready to hit the door-lifter control, were two autocannonarmed Cookes. Garvin commanded one, Njangu the other. Garvin’s pilot was Rao’s driver,
Dec
Running Bear, his gunner
Finf
Ho Kang, the former ECM specialist with Ben Dill’s Grierson.
Yoshitaro had an equally skilled crew of hastily-picked volunteers.
The autocannons were fully loaded, and the gunners ready.
Garvin watched the
Corfe.
Its chaingun turrets were lifted, guns ready, and missile launch tubes unmasked.
“Stand by,” Garvin said. “Their hatch is coming open.”
The gangway hissed down, touched the tarmac. Four soldiers in dark green dropped down it, stood at attention, blasters ready.
A speaker crackled.
“I’d like to extend an invitation for you men and women of Cumbre’s government to board my flagship, so we may discuss matters of great urgency.”
Even through electronic filters, the invitation was, again, clearly a command.
The Council members exchanged looks, then slowly went up the gangway into the ship.
Waiting inside the lock was Protector Redruth, who still looked more like a stocky, balding low-level bureaucrat than the dictator of two systems.
“I welcome you,” he said, tone not at all friendly. “We have matters of great import to discuss. If you’ll accompany me to the conference room?”
A green-uniformed man came out with a detector and swept each of the Councilmembers, in spite of protests.
Caud
Rao made none. Nothing he had hidden on him would respond to any detector he was aware of.
“None of them are armed, Protector.”
“Good. This way, then?”
The men and women followed Redruth. Rao tried to take in everything, trying to reach an estimate of Redruth’s military. The
Corfe
was spotlessly kept, even if it was obsolescent, and the two weapons stations he peered into were manned by alert-looking soldiers, clean-cut and sharply dressed.
The conference room was paneled with false wood, old prints on the walls. It could have served any Rentier corporation well.
“If you’ll be seated,” Redruth said.
A door slid open, and a man Rao recognized as Celidon, Redruth’s military leader, came in. He wore dark green, as his soldiery, glittering with decorations, and a Sam Browne belt with pistol holstered on one side, dagger on the other. He was tall, muscled, with a scar along his forehead. He gave Rao a slight nod, looked at the Council members with chill amusement, but said nothing.
“I know all of you are busy with your normal duties,” Redruth said. “So I’ll keep this very brief.
“I’m sure you know that some time ago, I offered to place the Cumbre system under my protection. The offer was refused by your Planetary Government.
“That was then, and we’d just lost contact with the Confederation. I was most concerned about inroads the Musth would most likely make on Cumbre, up to and including trying to seize the system for their own.
“My offer was foolishly rejected.
“Nothing has changed to improve your situation, and it’s inconceivable that I would allow my own people to be endangered if the Musth carry out the plans I consider inevitable.
“Therefore, although I would always rather rule by consent rather than fiat, I have decided Cumbre is to be placed under my protection immediately.”
There were gasps, protests. Redruth waited, his expression calm, as if nothing was being said.
“This is not a debatable matter,” he said. “Of course, I want our liaison to be as painless as possible. I see no reason why this Council cannot continue to handle matters as before, although, of course, I’ll
Each woman or man had, concealed under their dress uniforms, two magazines for their blasters, and small handguns hastily grabbed from Hedley’s “contingency” armory. They were also well trained in unarmed combat and knife fighting.
Hidden inside a hangar, its doors open a slit, a warrant ready to hit the door-lifter control, were two autocannonarmed Cookes. Garvin commanded one, Njangu the other. Garvin’s pilot was Rao’s driver,
Dec
Running Bear, his gunner
Finf
Ho Kang, the former ECM specialist with Ben Dill’s Grierson.
Yoshitaro had an equally skilled crew of hastily-picked volunteers.
The autocannons were fully loaded, and the gunners ready.
Garvin watched the
Corfe.
Its chaingun turrets were lifted, guns ready, and missile launch tubes unmasked.
“Stand by,” Garvin said. “Their hatch is coming open.”
The gangway hissed down, touched the tarmac. Four soldiers in dark green dropped down it, stood at attention, blasters ready.
A speaker crackled.
“I’d like to extend an invitation for you men and women of Cumbre’s government to board my flagship, so we may discuss matters of great urgency.”
Even through electronic filters, the invitation was, again, clearly a command.
The Council members exchanged looks, then slowly went up the gangway into the ship.
Waiting inside the lock was Protector Redruth, who still looked more like a stocky, balding low-level bureaucrat than the dictator of two systems.
“I welcome you,” he said, tone not at all friendly. “We have matters of great import to discuss. If you’ll accompany me to the conference room?”
A green-uniformed man came out with a detector and swept each of the Councilmembers, in spite of protests.
Caud
Rao made none. Nothing he had hidden on him would respond to any detector he was aware of.
“None of them are armed, Protector.”
“Good. This way, then?”
The men and women followed Redruth. Rao tried to take in everything, trying to reach an estimate of Redruth’s military. The
Corfe
was spotlessly kept, even if it was obsolescent, and the two weapons stations he peered into were manned by alert-looking soldiers, clean-cut and sharply dressed.
The conference room was paneled with false wood, old prints on the walls. It could have served any Rentier corporation well.
“If you’ll be seated,” Redruth said.
A door slid open, and a man Rao recognized as Celidon, Redruth’s military leader, came in. He wore dark green, as his soldiery, glittering with decorations, and a Sam Browne belt with pistol holstered on one side, dagger on the other. He was tall, muscled, with a scar along his forehead. He gave Rao a slight nod, looked at the Council members with chill amusement, but said nothing.
“I know all of you are busy with your normal duties,” Redruth said. “So I’ll keep this very brief.
“I’m sure you know that some time ago, I offered to place the Cumbre system under my protection. The offer was refused by your Planetary Government.
“That was then, and we’d just lost contact with the Confederation. I was most concerned about inroads the Musth would most likely make on Cumbre, up to and including trying to seize the system for their own.
“My offer was foolishly rejected.
“Nothing has changed to improve your situation, and it’s inconceivable that I would allow my own people to be endangered if the Musth carry out the plans I consider inevitable.
“Therefore, although I would always rather rule by consent rather than fiat, I have decided Cumbre is to be placed under my protection immediately.”
There were gasps, protests. Redruth waited, his expression calm, as if nothing was being said.
“This is not a debatable matter,” he said. “Of course, I want our liaison to be as painless as possible. I see no reason why this Council cannot continue to handle matters as before, although, of course, I’ll
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