Paul Thompson - Nemesis

Kireno demolished his idea. "The Citadel is cut away under the Dream Halls, so there's no way to climb down. It would require hundreds of feet of rope just to reach the bridge to the prison tower we just left. To reach the floor of the crater would take thousands of feet."

"What about up?" asked Medd.

Takara snorted. "Climb hundreds of feet up the outside of the Citadel? Are you mad?" She shook her cropped head at the rebels' leader. "How is he going to climb any distance up or down with those ruined hands?"

"You've made your point," Eladamri said. "Do you have any useful suggestions, Takara?"

Her eyes glistened. "Write your wills."

From the doors Shamus called, "People coming-lots of them!"

The rebels rushed to the doors, weapons drawn. Takara slumped to the floor in the corner and covered her face with her hands.

The tramp of many feet was plain even through the massive panels. Muffled shouts were heard, and the floor vibrated under their feet.

"Stand back," Eladamri advised his men. He had hardly said so when a tremendous boom reverberated through the hall. The doors shook but remained solidly closed. The impact was repeated again and again.

The noise was punishing.

"If the doors don't break, the noise will break us!" Medd shouted.

After many hits, the battering ceased. More muffled voices, and the rebels could hear men scurrying away from the door.

"Take cover!"

Fire sprayed through the narrow space under the door panels and through the gaps at the top and sides. For a few terrifying seconds, the rebels waited to see if the tall doors would topple from their hinges, admitting a horde of Rathi soldiers. The doors stood firm.

"Ha!" Kireno said, slapping a thick black panel. "That's workmanship for you!"

"I guess Volrath didn't want anyone to disturb him in his sanctum," said Eladamri.

Buoyed by the doors' resistance, the rebels prepared for a siege. Medd got out his whetstone and sharpened their swords and knives. Kireno departed on another reconnaissance, this time searching for hidden doors or secret passages. Shamus continued his watch.

Eladamri rummaged through his garments. He found a slip of ragged paper and a blunt charcoal stick, once the property of the Rathi soldier whose uniform this had been. He sat down on the floor and began to write in slow, carefully formed letters. Shamus asked him what he was doing.

"Following Takara's advice," he said. "I'm writing my will."

Crovax left to lead the attack on the cornered rebels, but Belbe had to see to Ertai before she could join the Rathi forces outside the Dream Halls.

She managed to round up four terrified servants and ordered them to carry Ertai to Volrath's laboratory. The men were frightened to be abroad on their own. The whole Citadel was in an uproar, and the air was rife with tales of cut throats and stabs in the back. It was only by considerable bullying that Belbe was able to get them to carry Ertai to the infuser.

She left him on his makeshift stretcher. "These men will get you to the laboratory," she told him. "They know what will happen to them if they fail." The bearers shifted nervously until Belbe frowned them into stillness. "I will go to the rebels. I must speak to Eladamri again."

He took her hand. "And how are you?" he said, fingering her bandaged palm.

"I feel no pain."

"You're a liar."

Belbe slipped her hand free. "When your treatment is done, find someplace quiet to rest. Crovax will come looking for you."

"Speaking of that…" Ertai urged her to come closer. Belbe knelt beside the stretcher. "We must both escape! You have the means-"

"Shh." She covered his mouth with her hand. "When the time comes, the door will open. But there is a part I must play here."

She dismissed the servants and hurried to the Dream Halls. As she neared the entrance, she found the corridors clogged with tense, eager troops. What seemed like the entire garrison was crowded into the outlying passages, and it took some time for her to work her way through the mass of heavily-armed soldiers. By the time Belbe reached the foyer, she found Greven supervising the palace guards in setting up a battering ram. An iron double A-frame had been brought in, and a massive bronze-headed ram hung by chains from the frame.

Kneeling beside Greven was a captured rebel soldier, a young Vec with his arms pinioned behind his back, bleeding from untended side and scalp wounds. Crovax, still in his battle-soiled white outfit, stood nearby with a contingent of fifty guards, ready to storm the Dream Halls once the doors were breached.

At the count of three, the guards swung the battering ram back, then slammed it against the black doors. The ram bounced off, and the rebound threw the battering crew to the floor. Greven ground his teeth in disgust.

"Again!" he bellowed.

Twenty stout men grasped the handles on the ram and drew it back. Prepared for the shock this time, none of them fell down, but the ram made just as little impression on the door as last time.

"Keep going!"

While the guards vainly pounded, Belbe made her way to Greven's side.

In between the dull booming of the ram, she asked him, "What are the doors made of?"

"Some metal of Volrath's making."

"Flowstone?"

"No, Excellency. The lock mechanism is made of flowstone, but the rebels have barred the doors from the inside. Crovax tried to will the doors open, but they are impervious to his commands."

Twenty-six fruitless blows were struck, then Greven ordered the winded guardsmen to stand down. A fresh team formed to take their place, but Crovax had a different idea.

"Would Your Excellency have a go?" he said.

"I'm not strong enough to batter down those doors."

"No," he said, "but you're strong enough to use this."

A soldier passed him the Phyrexian plasma discharger she'd hidden behind the throne. He smiled ironically when she took the weapon from him. Belbe cradled the heavy gun in her arms.

Crovax fixed her with a stare. "It won't work on me, you know. I can absorb the energy of its blast. That's how I can handle the powerstones bare-handed."

Belbe swung around and fired the discharger at the doors. No one was ready, and the resulting explosion scattered troops in all directions. When the smoke cleared, the doors were not even marred. Crovax seemed impressed.

"A very useful substance," he said. "I wonder if Volrath could be persuaded to share the secret of its composition?"

Belbe tossed the discharger to him. She turned to Greven. "I want you to withdraw your men. Clear an area ten yards out from the doors. Leave the rebel prisoner with me."

He didn't question why she wanted this, he simply obeyed and ordered the soldiers back to the mouths of the converging corridors. The battering ram was dragged clear and abandoned. Belbe helped the semi-conscious Vec warrior to stand. A hard knock on the head had not only laid open his scalp, it dulled his wits. "What's your name?" she asked. "Sivi… Liin Sivi."

"Isn't that a female name?"

She raised her head slightly and peered at Belbe. "You're the first one to notice."

"That's all right. Liin Sivi, you'll soon be reunited with your friends."

Belbe ushered the dazed rebel fighter to Crovax. "Your Highness," she said, using his title for the first time. "Take your storming squad back, too."

"Why?"

"I mean to persuade the rebels to come out," she said. "I'll give them their wounded comrade as a token of trust. But they won't budge if they see your men poised to strike."

"You no longer command here."

Belbe smoothed the hair back from her face. Her arms felt leaden, her fingers were numb. Her healing capacity was reacting poorly to her many accumulated wounds.

"Do this, Crovax. It will cost you nothing. There's no way out of the Dream Halls, as you well know. This Vec woman will be just as much a prisoner inside as she is out here. If I can talk the rebels out, it will save lives and trouble."