Sullivan Saga 1: Sullivan's War (34 page)

“Very well. Are you comfortable?”

“No.”

Geary smiled. “Yes, I’m afraid these cells aren’t designed for comfort.”

“What’s happening in the city?”

“The rebellion has managed to drive our forces back to the base. But I’m confident that we’ll be safe in here.”

“This is not going to end well for you, Geary. Even if you manage to put down the rebellion, the people won’t trust you after you arrested me on these trumped-up charges.”

“I’m sure you’ll have quite a bit to say in your defense.”

“The charges will not stick.”

“I don’t imagine they will.”

“Listen, General. Let me out now. Let me go talk to the rebellion’s leaders. I’m certain we can end this without any further bloodshed.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To go plot against me with your treasonous friends?”

“I am not a traitor, General.”

“You’ve just confessed otherwise. You want to go negotiate with the enemy. What concessions would you make? Would you promise new elections? Would you push through an amendment to cripple the military? Would you hand power over to one of those criminals?”

“General, it’s over. I have no illusions about our government. I know the only reason I was elected prime minister was because of my close friendship with my predecessor. And you have benefitted from the same cronyism. Didn’t General Banks hand-pick you to succeed him? Weren’t you his golden-haired boy after you gallantly rode in and took back the city after the first rebellion? Open your eyes, General. The system cannot continue after this.”

Geary shook his head. “How can you be so blind? Don’t you see what these people are capable of if you give them just a little bit of self-determination? They turn into animals. They bring chaos and destruction.”

“You really believe that, don’t you? How do you account for the relative peace on other planets, planets where elections are free, where the people have a real say in their government?”

“People need control. Whether you control them by force or with bread and circuses, it’s control all the same.”

Dean crossed her arms. “Why are you here, Geary? What do you want from me?”

“I thought I would come and assess your position. But it’s clear you don’t support me in anything. It’s clear you will only cause me difficulty.”

“If you hadn’t arrested me, things might have been very different.”

“You’re right. You would have given in to the rebels.”

“I would have done my best to save lives.”

Geary threw his hands up in agitation. “And I’m not? Didn’t I move as many civilians as I could to the administrative district and barricade it? Didn’t I keep them safe with the lives of my men?”

“I think you’re doing what you have to do to stay in power.”

Geary leveled his gaze at Dean. “I understand everything now.”

“What?”

“I understand that you cannot be trusted to support me, no matter what I do. I understand that if you are acquitted at trial, you will continue to work against me.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. Geary’s tone had grown cold. “Do the right thing, General. Tom….”

Geary unclipped the strap on his holster. Dean looked down and saw his hand move to the butt of the pistol. “Tom, please. Think about what you’re doing.”

Geary licked his lips and drew the weapon. He toggled the safety off and chambered a round. Dean backed up onto the bed, into the corner of the room. “Please….”

“I’m sorry, Madame Prime Minister,” said Geary, low and evenly. “I’ve determined that you are a threat to the security of Edaline.”

He raised his gun, carefully aimed it at Dean’s chest and mechanically fired off two rounds. She slumped back into the corner as her head rolled forward to rest on her chin.

The door swung open behind him. “Sir?” asked the guard, looking in on the scene.

“Get rid of the body,” said Geary, holstering his weapon. “Put it in the incinerator, and don’t let anyone else see it.”

The guard saluted as Geary strode out of the room, clenching and unclenching his fists as he went.

16

THEY HAD TO move fast. As soon as the satellites monitoring the city showed Geary that the tanks were operational, the jet fighters would be on them within minutes.

From their position just outside of the range of the big guns in the fort’s watchtowers, Rick Sullivan and Frank Allen heard one of the tanks approaching. They would enter the breach created by this tank while Hunter and Miller attacked another part of the wall. If one of the tanks was destroyed, at least some of the rebel forces could gain entrance to the base.

The tank pulled into sight, and Sullivan motioned his men back. “The fighters will be here any moment. Stay clear of the tank, it’s a big target.”

The men inside the tank fired off the first round. The shell landed at the base of one of the turrets in the wall, bringing it down in an explosion of flame and concrete. The second shell demolished a section of the wall just to the left of the ruined turret, trying to clear a path for the ground troops.

“Planes en route,” said Sullivan into his earpiece as he watched the fighters approach from the air strip on the far side of the base.

Three men scrambled out the top hatch of the tank and jumped clear as the fighters zeroed in on their target. Before Sullivan even knew the planes had fired, the tank exploded in a fireball. Shards of hot, twisted metal flew through the air, striking the wall above Sullivan’s head.

“Let’s go!” he shouted. Sullivan and Allen led the charge on the wall. Gunfire erupted from the nearby turrets, but by taking advantage of wrecked vehicles and other rubble, Sullivan was able to pick his way forward. He paused behind an abandoned car and looked around for Allen.

“I’m with you,” said Allen.

“You zig left, I’ll zag right, and we’ll meet at the breach,” said Sullivan.

They sprinted out from behind the car and ran diagonally toward the wall, changing direction half way there to keep the guards from zeroing in on them. Men streamed behind them, and before Sullivan could stop to see if Allen had made it, he was at the breach and climbing over the rubble of the ruined wall.

Shots impacted the concrete beside his head, and he ducked down behind a large section of the wall. He popped up to survey the situation then ducked his head back down. Half a dozen men were covering the breach. Someone scrambled up the rubble on the far side of the breach, drawing the guards’ fire. Sullivan used the opportunity to pop back up and take out three of them. Another distraction caused by the arrival of more men let him take down the other three.

Sullivan looked around and saw Allen ducked down behind the rubble. He shot Sullivan a thumbs up.

“Breach clear,” Sullivan said into his earpiece. “All men move in!”

The gunfire from the turrets started up again as the rest of Sullivan’s forces streamed forward. Sullivan stepped through into the base and checked the area. The barracks were a good distance away. He had to use this opportunity to take as much ground as possible, before more of the base’s troops arrived. Hopefully, Miller and Hunter’s force had made it through as well and would keep the soldiers away while Sullivan’s force attacked the command center.

While the soldiers in the turret were focused on the men outside the wall, Sullivan, Allen and their men moved into the base. They took out a few more guards then turned their attention to the turrets. With the guards either shot or taking cover behind the turret walls, the rest of the men were able to enter the base.

“Let’s get to the HQ building before those tanks engage us,” said Sullivan.

They moved deeper into the base, facing light but determined resistance along the way.

JOSHUA HUNTER AND James Miller had entered a breach farther north. They were near the barracks and the motor pool where the tanks were parked.

Their first priority was to destroy the tanks and keep the men at the barracks busy so Sullivan and Allen could get to the base’s headquarters. To accomplish this, their group had been given most of the missile launchers.

They came to the motor pool and paused a moment to observe the tanks. They hadn’t yet been manned.

“This is odd,” said Miller.

Hunter nodded. “And I would have expected more men at the wall. Where are they?”

As if in answer to the question, a single man emerged from the barracks, waving a white flag.

Colonel Miller approached him cautiously. “Colonel Powell. Your men are standing down?”

“That’s right, James. We don’t want any more bloodshed. We can see the handwriting on the wall.”

“Where’s General Geary?”

“He’s probably holed up in the command center with a handful of men who remain loyal to him. They were the ones guarding the wall, too.”

“I thought this was too easy. All right, Colonel, I appreciate your decision. Keep your men at the barracks until this is all over.”

“Yes, sir.” Colonel Powell held out his hand and Miller shook it.

“We’re in luck,” said Miller, returning to the motor pool and approaching Hunter. Powell’s men are standing down. Only Geary and those loyal to him are left at HQ.”

Hunter turned to O’Donnell. “Select some men to stay here, Kip. I want someone to guard these tanks and keep an eye on the barracks.”

O’Donnell nodded and began organizing his men.

“Let’s meet up with Sullivan and Allen at base headquarters,” said Miller, turning to his men. “This is almost over!”

SULLIVAN WATCHED IN dismay as another two of his men went down. There wasn’t a lot of cover near the command building, and the soldiers inside were firing from the windows. Still, the news had reached him that most of the base’s men were standing down. That would make things significantly easier.

Sullivan dashed over to a group of men behind a utility box. “Any missiles left?” he asked the man with the tube.

“Just one, sir.”

“That’ll do.”

Sullivan took the missile launcher and aimed it at the front entrance of the building. If they could clear the entrance, they could get men in and engage Geary’s troops room to room. He carefully aimed the weapon and fired off the missile. It slammed into the reinforced door at the front of the building and ripped it apart.

Not wanting to give the men inside time to react, he rushed forward, waving his troops along behind him. He made it to the side of the building and swung around to look into the hole in the door, his rifle at his shoulder.

The remains of a few men were scattered about the floor and the walls. Sullivan put the gruesome sight out of his mind and stalked forward into the enemy’s lair.

17

GENERAL GEARY WATCHED the security cameras in growing anticipation as the rebels streamed into the building. Where were his men, his tanks, his planes? Had the entire planet abandoned him during his moment of greatest need?

He slammed the glass down on the table and refilled it. The numbness caused by the Cuspis extract was the only thing keeping him from flying into a rage. It coursed throughout his body, making it difficult to press the buttons that would change the view on the screens.

He had long ago banned anyone else from entering the command center. He was alone, the door locked, with armed guards outside who had been ordered to not let anyone by.

With great effort, Geary reached forward and engaged his intercom. “All men… fall back to the… to the war room. Secure this… level.”

A handful of replies in the affirmative responded to his request. Geary took another long sip of Dacian whiskey. His brain slowed even further as the Cuspis extract and the alcohol took their toll.

MILLER AND HUNTER had gone down into the basement levels while Sullivan and Allen had gone up. The men they encountered were clearly on the move. They were heading for the upper levels, probably to fortify the command center.

Hunter turned down a hallway and came under fire. At the end of the hall were two men barricaded behind a desk and some chairs.

“They’re nestled in there good,” said Hunter, turning to Miller. “You have any grenades?”

Miller nodded and took a grenade from a pouch on his belt. “My last one, make it count.”

Hunter pulled the pin, stepped out from the corner and lobbed the grenade. As it left his hand, he felt a prick of pain in his thigh. He went down, and Miller pulled him back into cover as the grenade exploded at the far end of the hallway.

Hunter cried out in agony.

“Relax, just relax,” said Miller. He waved a medic forward as Hunter writhed on the ground.

The medic tore open Hunter’s pant leg and wiped away the blood. As soon as it was gone, more of it bubbled up from the wound.

“It’s the femoral artery,” said the medic. “Not good.”

“Can you stop the bleeding?” asked Miller.

“Maybe.”

The medic worked quickly but efficiently, using a cauterizer to seal off the gash in the artery. Hunter screamed from the pain.

The medic removed an IV bag of artificial blood from his satchel and began preparing Hunter’s arm to receive the needle.

Before he could put the IV line in, Hunter stopped screaming. The medic put his hand on Hunter’s neck.

“His heart has stopped.”

The medic tried for the next several minutes to jump start Hunter’s heart, but it was to no avail. He shook his head and wiped the blood from his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Kip O’Donnell stepped forward and put his hand on his friend’s head. He turned to Miller. “We finish this now.”

“Agreed,” said Miller, nodding.

O’Donnell took up his gun and stepped into the hallway where the grenade had gone off. He strode to the end, past the remains of the barricade, and burst through the next door, seeking out any of the enemy who still remained.

SULLIVAN AND ALLEN made their way up to the top floor of the building. This was where the command center lay and, no doubt, General Geary.

There were more men on this floor, guarding their commander. Sullivan’s losses were heavy. Every time he turned around, another man was lying on the floor, dead or bleeding. He burst through a pair of large double doors while the rest of his men cleared the other rooms on the floor. Before him was an office area. He began firing as soon as he was through the doors, taking down soldiers even as they ducked behind desks and chairs.