The Art of War by David Wingrove Read Free Book Online Page B

Dispersionists.
    Karr looked about the cell again, conscious of the other three watching him closely, then nodded, satisfied. He knew how he looked to them. Knew how the suit exaggerated his size, making him seem monstrous, unnatural. Perhaps they were even wondering what he was – machine or man. If so, he would let them know. He lit up his face plate, seeing how the eyes of the others widened with surprise. But not Berdichev. He was watching Karr closely.
    Karr turned, slamming the door shut behind him, then turned back, facing them again.
    He knew what they expected. They knew the laws that were supposed to govern an arrest. But this was different. They had been tried in their absence and found guilty. He was not here to arrest them.
    ‘Well, Major Karr, so we meet up at last, neh?’ Berdichev lifted his chin a little as he spoke, but his eyes seemed to look down on the giant. ‘Do you really think you’ll get me to stand trial? In fact, do you even think you’ll leave Mars alive?’
    If there had been any doubt before, there was none now. It was a trap. Berdichev had made a deal with the Captain, Wen. Or maybe Wen was in another’s pay – a friend of Berdichev’s. Whatever, it didn’t matter now. He walked over to where Berdichev was sprawled and kicked at his feet.
    ‘Get up,’ he said tonelessly, his voice emerging disembodied and inhuman through the suit’s microphone.
    Berdichev stood slowly, awkwardly. He was clearly ill. Even so, there was a dignity of bearing to him, a superiority of manner, that was impressive. Even in defeat he thought himself the better man.
    Karr stood closer, looking down into Berdichev’s face, studying the hawk-like features one last time. For a moment Berdichev looked aside, then, as if he realized this was one last challenge, he met the big man’s stare unflinchingly, his features set, defiant.
    Did he know whose gaze he met across the vastness of space? Did he guess in that final moment?
    Karr picked him up and broke his neck, his back, then dropped him. It was done in an instant, before the others had a chance to move, even to cry out.
    He stepped away, then stood there by the door, watching.
    They gathered about the body, kneeling, glaring across at him, impotent to help the dying man. One of them half rose, his fists clenched, then drew back, realizing he could do nothing.
    Karr tensed, hearing noises in the corridor outside. Captain Wen and his squad.
    He took a small device from his belt, cracked its outer shell like an egg and threw the sticky innards at the far wall, where it adhered, high up, out of reach. He pulled the door open and stepped outside, then pulled it closed and locked it. His face-plate still lit up, he smiled at the soldiers who were hurrying down the corridor towards him as if greeting them, then shot Wen twice before he could say a word.
    The remaining four soldiers hesitated, looking to the junior officer for their lead. Karr stared from face to face, defying them to draw a weapon, his own held firmly out before him. Then, on the count of fifteen, he dropped to the floor.
    The wall next to him lit up brightly and, a fraction of a second later, the door blew out.
    Karr got up and went through the shattered doorway quickly, ignoring the fallen men behind him. The cell was devastated, the outer wall gone. Bits of flesh and bone lay everywhere, unrecognizable as parts of living men.
    He stood there a moment, looking down at the thermometer on the sleeve of his suit. The temperature in the room was dropping rapidly. They would have to address that problem quickly or the generators that powered the pumps would shut down. Not only that, but they would have to do something about the loss of air pressure within the station.
    Karr crossed to the far side of the room and stepped outside, on to the sands. Debris from the blast lay everywhere. He turned and looked back at the devastation within. Was that okay? he asked silently. Did that satisfy your desire for