Crisis Of Empire - Crown Of Empire Part 14

"Who knows? Germans, Navy, Treasury, Marines, Kona Tatsu?" He made a face to show it was all the same to him. "They're all out fighting with us. n.o.body knows who's alive and who's not, or who's in charge." He coughed. 'I didn't mean to say anything wrong, Madame Bouriere."

"Saying it isn't wrong. Sergeant Mallas. It's the act of rebellion that's wrong," She indicated the hallway. "I want to reach Kitchleys office. That's one more level above us."

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The Sergeant shook his head. "I don't know, Madame. It could be pretty hard getting through the halls. There are too many people who . . .

don't know what's going on. They're barricaded in their offices and shooting at anything moving."

He looked at her pistol. "Still, considering -"

Jessine c.o.c.ked her head. "You mean consider- ing that most of them would recognize me -"

He nodded. "It's taking a chance. Most of them think you and all the others are dead."

"I can understand why," said Jessine, and could not keep herself from adding, "Do you know if anyone else... ?"

"Got out?" he finished for her. "Sorry, Madame. I don't know. I've heard rumors, but nothing real." He pressed closer to the open door, "You want to try this?"

"Yes," she said, knowing it was what she had to do. She had been raised to be the wife of the High Secretary, and that included facing adver- sity with dignity and fort.i.tude. She stood a little straighter. "Take up First Escort position."

"If that's what you want," said Sergeant Mallas dubiously but without challenging her orders.

He moved into the hall.

"Stand up. Sergeant. They are less likely to fire at you if you behave as if you belong here."

The first checkpoint was unmanned, but the

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second had Security soldiers m place, all four of them heavily armed.

"You're cleared to the Appointments Direc- torate, Madame," said the unsmiling Security guard. 'Treasury Guards are in charge there.

You'll have to deal with them if you're going beyond there."

'Thank you. Monitor," said Jessine with delib- erate hauteur; she had the satisfaction of seeing the Security guards come to attention before she followed Sergeant Mallas through the confusion of the main corridor.

The five make-shift data processing stations which had been set up under the Grand Stair- case more than twenty years ago were now filled with Directorate employees all trying to sort and destroy any compromising doc.u.ments they might have in their records. Dataspools and printed records lay everywhere - on the floor, atop cases and chairs and cabinets - and every- one spoke in whispers, as if they, too, might prove embarra.s.sing to some high official.

Sergeant Mallas kept his eyes moving, watch- ing for the unexpected as he continued at a steady walk toward the next checkpoint.

A cl.u.s.ter of offices toward the first bank of dropshafts had once been storage rooms; they were small and cramped and dark. Clerks were

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a.s.signed to them on a rotating basis because few could stand the sepulchral environment for long.

Sergeant Mallas was starting to say something when the door to the nearest office was flung open and half a dozen soldiers in Navy body-armor uniforms piled out, their Kanovskys at the ready.

Jessine did not want to find out what land of ammunition the Kanovskys had. Sergeant Mallas tugged her off her feet and dropped almost on top other, his gun aimed at the Navy soldiers.

"We can kill you and take her or take her," said the leader of the Navy soldiers, making a sugges- tive flick with the barrel of his Kanovsky. "Get out of the way. Security. This isn't your fight any- more."

"Whose fight is it?" Jessine demanded, half her body feeling squashed. Her cheek was pressed against the floor and her hip bone hurt.

"Be quiet, Madame," Sergeant Mallas said to her, remaining very calm.

"Let us have her," the Navy leader said. "You can go. We don't want you."

I'm going to die here, thought Jessine with intense disbelief. They are going to kill Sergeant Mallas and me. I'm twenty-four. They can't do this. She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from screaming in rage.

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Sergeant Mallas pressed his release toggle.

"I'm ready anytime you are."

"Ifs a d.a.m.ned waste," sighed the leader, and brought his Kanovsky up.

He never fired it. A group of Treasury Guards stepped out of the dropshaft, their weapons - Bahkoyn 149JZs - already aimed. The Tech- Captain in the lead made a motion and his men spread out across the wide section of corridor in front of the dropshafts.

"Holy sweet -" whispered Sergeant Mallas, looking from the Navy soldiers to the Treasury detachment.

Jessine ground her teeth. Either they were going to loll her, in which case she wanted them to get it over with, or they were going to fight each other, in which case she wanted to be on her way. She pushed one arm out from under her and tried to shove herself free of Sergeant Mallas, who moved at once to continue to cover her.

"Madame Bouriere," said the TechCaptain.

"Can we be of service?"

The Navy soldiers were now maneuvering into position to fight the guards. The Kanovskys faced the Bahkoyns; no one fired yet.

"I want to get to Kitchley."

"He's injured, Madame Bouriere," said the

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TechCaptain, as polite as if they were preparing for a diplomatic reception. "But he is in his office." He gave his attention to the Navy sol- diers. "We'll take it from here."

"Uh-oh," whispered Sergeant Mallas, and started to slide backward, dragging Jessine with him.