Valdor: Birth of the Imperium by Chris Wraight

Author:Chris Wraight
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf, mobi
Published: 2020-02-10T14:22:30+00:00

Eleven

The roads passed in a blur of noise, slurred movement and gathering anxiety. Whole sectors seemed to have fractured into a state of confusion, buffeted by both the ferocity of the storm and a gathering sense of inchoate fear. Things had never been quite settled here – there had always been an air of impermanence, of transience. Order had been imposed in the fullest sense by the promise of a better future, rather than the reality of life in the outer city – people were still poor, they were still hungry, and it didn’t take much to scratch below the surface of that to reveal the fear beneath.

‘It all degrades so fast,’ Kandawire mused, looking idly through the condensation-misted viewport.

The groundcars had powered down the main transitways, looping between empty spires and teeming hab-blocks, kicking up sprays of snow and slithering about even on their chains. In the established centre, under the imperfect shadow of the mighty Senatorum Imperialis, things were more or less as they always had been, but once they got further out, into the suburban sprawl and semi-solid mass of shanty dwellings, the strictures became looser, and the inhabitants knew a little more about what was going on beyond those semi-complete walls.

The Arbites were out in force, though even their lumpen personnel carriers slipped and blew gaskets in this foul gale. A handful of suppressor aircraft battled through the storm, searchlights piercing the gloom in fleeting sweeps. Some crowds were milling uncertainly – many were heading further in, others seemed to be making for the perimeter sectors, their masked faces lowered against the storm and swathed in environment wrapping.

It wasn’t clear how they’d all picked up that something was happening. It was never clear how the great uneducated masses detected a scent of panic in the air. Presumably, some long-range sensor tower had gained a signal, then the transmission had somehow got out over an unprotected line. Or maybe a menial blabbed, or was overheard, or had left their station and run out into the cold to blurt out what they were seeing.

Within hours, individuals were making their choices, or having choices made for them. Soldiers were roused from barracks and hurriedly mustered to the walls. Workers were sent from their shifts, told to stay home and keep the doors locked. Enforcers were given fresh ammo-packs and double rations, and kicked out onto patrol with orders to keep a lid on this situation – whatever it was exactly.

The closer the groundcars got to the gates, the worse it got. Within twenty minutes they would be closing on the main south-western approaches, no doubt clogged with conveyers and freight-haulers stuck out on the freezing asphalt due to the closing weather.

Kandawire looked away from the view in time to see the co-driver lean over from the cab. ‘Signals ahead, High Lord,’ he reported. ‘Security details mobilising to cut off access.’

‘Understood,’ said Kandawire, quietly impressed that the place was being shut down so quickly. ‘You have the coordinates for the secondary route.

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