ICHaFBI 16

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=I, Corvus; How a Fool became Imperator of the O'Reillys - Chapter XVI -=
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----<Character & Faction Directory of I, Corvus>----
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===The smile behind armored helmet===
Imperator Johann Sebastian Memorial Spaceport 
Alphard IV, Marian Hegemony
3032
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The spaceport had received some cosmetic renovations since he was last here. The carpets were a shade of blue, rather than the red he was used to. There was also ongoing repairs from the Circinan attack.
 
Everything about Alphard felt familiar. The taste of the air, the pull of gravity, the color of the sky. All of it spoke to the subconscious part of the brain that recognized home. Lucius had to make an effort to lock down his emotions and the memories that try to push to the forefront of his mind. Things were about to get interesting and he couldn’t afford distraction.
 
He and his men walked into an atrium with a wonderful view of the capital city from the floor to ceiling windows on his right. The atrium had pillars running down the length of the room that were there for decoration. Presumably this was where dignitaries and the like would be met with ceremony. As Lucius was now.
 
Near the middle of the room stood Marcus Gibson, Consul of the Marian Hegemony and currently the only ruling authority on Alphard. It looked like he hadn’t suffered during his brief capture. Instead of the white and gold fringed toga a Consul was entitled to wear, he was instead in full military dress uniform; a string of medals and combat honors he had no doubt never earned adorned his chest. Flanking him were several other high ranking officers of the Praetorians and his honor guard. Most only had service pistols in their belts but Lucius noted that the two near the doors had rifles slung over their shoulder.
 
Lucius had his own honor guard marching with him. Unlike the Consul and his men, they wore plain uniforms that were clean yet could do with replacement. None of the men flanking him were actual officers, but were in fact the best close combat specialists the Boyz could field. Lucius could rely on each of them to kill without mercy. Four of his Boyz awkwardly clunked along on the flanks in full battle armor. Powered armor was wonderful in battle, but it always looked a little weird when they marched.
 
Lucius halted in front of the Consul and stood at attention. Off to their left, a camera crew was filming the scene. They were about to get a real show. Gibson stepped forward and declared a little too loudly, “Welcome to Alphard! You and your elite band of warriors will slaughter anyone who fucks with the Hegemony and our expansion…” He went on for a lot longer than was necessary for a simple welcoming ceremony. Lucius assumed he was playing it up for the masses that were probably watching on a live feed. “... and to a future full of glory and honor.” He finally finished and stretched out his hand.
 
Lucius smiled pleasantly and quietly said, “Enjoy your nap, Consul.” Lucius grabbed Gibson’s arm and pulled him in close while reaching around with his left hand and applied a taser to the back of Gibson’s neck. Marcus Gibson, Consul of the Hegemony and commander of the Praetorian Guard, squealed like a pig and pissed himself before collapsing to the floor. Lucius shoved the convulsing Consul behind him and dodged a punch thrown at him by one of Gibson’s guards who had been quick enough to react but seemed to forget he had a pistol. With contemptuous ease Lucius caught his arm with one hand, pulled out his pistol with the other, put the muzzle against the guard’s chin and pulled the trigger. A loud pop was followed by a spray of blood and brain matter as the guard slumped to the floor.
 
Around Lucius the plan was being carried out with brutal efficiency. Two of his men had grabbed the soiled Consul and dragged him into cover, the rest were gunning down the honor guard. The men in battle armor had opened fire with their arm mounted chain guns. The two guards with rifles in the back literally fell to pieces as hundreds of rounds tore into them.
 
It lasted only seconds. As his men rushed forward to secure the room Lucius looked over to see the camera crew staring at the scene with shock. The pretty young lady who looked to be the producer was trying to say something to a mini mic but couldn’t get the words out. Lucius gave a signal and several of his men converged on the crew. Their cameras, equipment and communication devices were all seized and smashed to the ground. After searching them for any weapons, they had their hands bound and were forced to kneel against the wall under guard. Obviously they assumed the worst as they began to beg, cry, and pray to someone named Hugo, which Lucius found strange. However, other than being guarded for the duration, they wouldn’t be harmed. Lucius had given strict orders that there would be no civilian casualties.
 
Lucius didn’t spare any more time looking around at the carnage filled atrium. A flash of light and sound of explosions outside told him that the rest of the plan was kicking into action. He turned and began to jog back to his Dropship. Lucius O’Reily Jr. wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines while the rest of the coup took place. He was coming home in style.
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===When the Circus Comes to Town===
Improvised Vehicle Staging Area
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The Mule cargo DropShip sat at the edge of Alphard in a burnt plain that had been a suburb just three months earlier. Within, rows of turbo-charged wheeled APCs sat, full of warriors chomping at the bit to be released. The vehicles were a parting gift from Wrench and Vulcan, a quick adjustment to existing Vulcan vehicles devised by her and mass produced by him to give the Flaming Circus something to do on the trip to Alphard. Eight more dropships just like this one, each led by a trusted lieutenant. In all nine, the Flaming Circus watched the light above the cargo bay doors and waited.
 
 It felt strange to Metellus to sit in a vehicle that was made from parts that were meant to fit together. It felt to just turn the key and go, rather than the elaborate workarounds Wrench’s shop produced. The sheer reliability and predictability would take a long time to get used to. As would, of all things, the comfort. Military vehicles weren’t exactly known for that sort of feature, but a seat padded with actual cushion and synthetic fabric rather than beaten spinifex covered in crude leather made from a dead scavenger felt like the height of decadence.
 
When the red light came on in front of him though, all those thoughts disappeared. Instinct kicked in as he turned the key and became one with his vehicle, even if it was a strange one. Four months about dropships had him going stir crazy as much as the rest of the Circus. He yearned for the freedom of the open road, the rush of battle, at the very least solid ground, fresh air and a sky above his head. The anticipation grew as the bay doors began to open. It was all he could do not to gun it immediately, even knowing it would sheer the turret (and poor Gnasher) off of the APC.
 
The light turned green. In ten seconds, the APC was tearing through Alphard at 100km. The Circus followed, like a team of dogs following their lead, not caring where it led them so long as they got there fast. Despite so many years in exile, he knew the streets by heart. A sharp turn here or there to avoid streets clogged with rubble. The dogs followed, baying behind him, with their voices and horns. Wrench had fitted some with enormous sound systems that sent their warsongs booming through the streets. Citizens fled in terror. Good. Too many of them might gum up his wheels.
 
He engaged the supercharger and brought the APC past its limit. The engine screamed under the stress. Metellus didn’t care. The Capitoline and Palatine legion would be preparing. They were good soldiers, they knew how fast an APC could travel. Even the fastest hover vehicles had trouble going 160km in the best conditions, let alone through city streets. No one was mad enough to drive a wheeled one through the streets at top speed, even if such a vehicle existed.
 
But one did. And at least one man was that mad. The APC screamed through the streets at almost 200 kilometers, slowing for nothing, careening around corners and grinding against cars along the way. Not all of the Circus were so lucky, but the losses were far fewer than they’d suffer if they didn’t make the barracks in time.
 
Far faster than any sane Praetorian had expected, Metellus slammed through the guards hastily building a barricade in front of the Capitoline Legion’s barracks. Gnasher hammered away at the Praetorians with the machine guns. He was joined by dozens more as the rest of the Circus squealed into the muster square squashing Praetorians beneath their wheels or filling them with holes. Two hundred warriors bailed out of the APCs and stormed into the barracks to loot and kill. A hundred more ran towards the hangers full of battle damaged mechs, blasting anyone in the Praetorian red and gold and rounding up mech techs to the square. They were a hair too slow, as two Centurions powered up and stormed to their comrade’s defense. But the most disciplined warriors had already set up a ring of man-portable SRMs around the field and unleashed a volley on them. It wasn’t enough to bring them down, but it was enough to crack their armor. Dozens of machine guns poured fire into the holes and the Centurions fell as gyros, engines, and actuators were shredded by the relentless fire.
 
 It was done. He fired a flare into the air, which was matched seconds later by another from the Palatine hill. The Circus had done its duty. Now, it fell to the Boyz Movers to finish the job.
 
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The spaceport had already seen plenty of fighting and destruction when the Black Warriors captured it months before. Now the same dance was being played out but with an even more one sided ending. Most of Gibson’s honor guard had stayed outside with the vehicles, including four Centurion medium Battlemechs. The mech pilots found themselves under a hail of laser fire and missiles as heavy and assault mechs came pouring out of the Boyz dropships like a ponderous wave. One pilot managed to eject from his mech and would live to be captured. The other three only provided a minimal opposition before being destroyed. The guards on the ground with the vehicles could only watch as the big mechs turned towards them. Burning vehicles and body parts were left behind the advancing Boyz.
 
By the time Lucius had made it to the cockpit of his mech, an Awesome, the space port had been secured. His light battalions were racing to the Praetorian barracks and his medium battalion was moving to the HPG. Two regiments of Heavy and Assault class 'mechs had assembled at the exit from the spaceport and awaited him. His 'mech stomped it’s way to the head of the column and paused a moment. “Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome home.” He announced over the comms before leading the way out of the spaceport and onto the causeway.
 
As Lucius maneuvered his mech up the causeway and around the yet to be repaired damage from the previous battle, he listened to his comms channel as the rest of the coup unfolded. He was reasonably confident that his march wouldn’t be interrupted by any defenders, but he wasn’t one to make assumptions in war and had some light and medium 'mechs screening the main force as they moved.
As the reports rolled in, he pictured what was going on in his mind's eye. The medium battalion had met with no resistance and the HPG had shut down all outgoing transmissions when the battalion commander had ordered their compliance. That didn’t surprise Lucius. Comstar didn’t care one wit who ruled what world. So long as the interstellar telecom bills were paid, they would abide by whomever had control.
 
One report from the barracks caught his attention. The Imperator’s pet savages had done a decent job shooting up the place but hadn’t thought to check for alternative ways out. A large hole, probably blown open during the Circinan invasion, was in the side of the main barracks building and twenty plus Centurion mechs had managed to get out. The few vehicles that the Flaming Circus sent to stop their exodus were blown to pieces.
 
The first light battalion had already moved onto contingency plans that Lucius and his officers had laid out during the six week journey to Alphard. Light mechs quickly rushed to contain the Centurions, using their superior speed to stay at long range and pepper the enemy with missiles and laser fire. The Centurions were quickly being corralled and left with few options. They couldn’t stay there and get shot to pieces, nor could they attempt to charge down the faster 'mechs as they’d open up their backs to the already encroaching flankers. Whomever commanded the Centurion 'mechs had his small force move into the ruins of an industrial complex, all the while taking fire. They used the cover from the ruins to make a stand, firing from what was effectively hull down positions. It would be very bloody for the light weight mechs to attempt to close with the Centurions in order to finish them.
 
It turned out that wouldn’t be necessary. Several Leopard dropships and their escorts swooped in and began a concentrated bombardment against the ruins. The ruins became a hellfire that even Assault class mechs would have difficulty surviving. As the bombardment finished light mechs strode forward to finish the job but weren’t needed. All that was left were burning husks of Battlemechs.
 
Lucius smiled as his mech reached the palace. The tribals of the Flaming Circus were a bunch of amateurs. They had one plan that left no room in case things went wrong. The Boyz Movers had over two decades experience making war. The Leopard dropships had been in the area because that was apart of the contingency plans. After they air dropped their battle armored infantry on top of the various targets around the city, they hung around in the vicinity of the barracks just in case. Lucius hadn’t needed to give a single order throughout the entire operation. His officers and men had spent the last six weeks going over the plan and an array of contingencies based on the need. From smashing success to abject failure, they had plans for it all. There were plans on escaping the planet if things went sour. Even plans to kidnap Imperator Sean should they need to. Those particular plans were only in Lucius’ head however. Their resident Vigilis handler Arieen Muerna probably had listening devices everywhere.
 
Lucius stopped his mech in front of the grand balcony at the palace. The two regiments that had marched up the causeway with him began to assemble in rows around him and then waited. It seemed to take forever but eventually came the sight that Lucius had expected. On the balcony appeared young Imperator Sean. Lucius activated his warhorn as did all the assembled mechs. The rest of his 'mechs around the city soon joined in. The deep resonating sound reverberated throughout the streets of the capital, announcing to everyone that their new Imperator had taken charge.
 
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The smoke had barely cleared when Sean marched through the fallen gates to the Imperial palace. He walked by the broken corpses of the Ceremonial Guard, and the occasional Viglius agent. There were fewer than expected. The Battle of Alphard must have been worse than they’d thought, if there were so few left to guard the palace.
 
He passed rubble old and new, stepped through the gardens and into the throne room. Ambrose saluted and reported the palace was clear and the royal family secure. Sean brushed right past him. He passed the throne too. It was tantalizing, but an empty throne room was nothing. It was the people of the Hegemony who mattered. His people. Their adoration, their obedience, that meant more than any chair.
 
Sean stepped headed down a tunnel, through open blast doors, and down flights of stairs until it opened onto an elaborate balcony built into the top of the Palatine Hill that overlooked the forum. There, his people gathered. Boyz in their mechs, Algenibi in their armored vehicles, Vigilis in their black suits. But most of all, the common folk. Plebs and patricians, senators and slaves, all crowded into the street to welcome their rightful ruler.
 
Sean held out his arms and screamed to the sky, echoing their cheers. The sound was deafening. Their savior had come. The false idols had been brought low. He imagined what he would do with such people at his command. The worlds he would conquer. The monuments he would build.
 
But first, the world would be cleansed. The people were with him and always had been, but how many had collaborated? How many had helped the usurper in his rise to power? How many stayed silent when he needed them?
 
There would be hell to pay in the coming months, and it would take a lot of blood to cover the bill.
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===Bloody return of the rightful heir===
Imperial Palace
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Sean sat restlessly on the throne. Even hours later, the adrenaline rush of the restoration (or maybe it was the roots Metellus had given him) hadn’t faded. He glanced around the room, nervous energy pushing him on. To his right, Lucius and the Boyz Movers stood in relaxed lines. To his left, Prefect Yassin and the 10th Legion stood in perfect, crisp rows. Beyond them were the Vigilis and the Vulcan Forgeworks corporate security. On the steps of dais below him, Metellus’ clique reclined. His people.
 
Maybe it was the high of that newfound power that had him on edge. All these people, looking to him for commands, for strength, for domination. He clenched the arms of the throne so they wouldn’t see his hands shake from the nerves. Father must have been a stronger man than even he imagined, if this is how he felt every day for decades.
 
Livia stood next to him, shuffling back and forth, one foot to the other. Her tell when she was nervous. Maybe she thought he’d falter, that he wouldn’t be strong enough to protect them and the Hegemony. He promised silently that he would. He would be stronger than Father had been. No one would dare to threaten them again.
 
His first test hung in front of him. Marcus Gibson, beaten and bloody, strung up by the Circus. They’d used him as a pinata while they waited for the rest of the family to be rounded up. Sean knew he couldn’t flinch from it. The longer he took the weaker he’d look. He wanted the rest of the family to be here, to see it, but he couldn’t hold back any longer.
 
“Gnasher! Let him fall.”
 
The twisted creature cut the rope and Gibson collapsed to the ground. A nurse came forward and injected him with something. She’d promised it would keep him awake, no matter what they did. Wrench and Metellus grabbed his arms and lifted him. Slowly, Gibson raised his head, defiance still in his eyes. Sean’s anxiety flared again. Even beaten, he didn’t think Sean had the strength to rule. Sean would show him
 
But before he could, Maximus and the Burning Chrome returned, bringing the rest of the family all at once. “I apologize Imperator, Gibson’s sister wasn’t in the palace. We have them all now.”
 
Sean gestured and the Chromite warriors pushed the Imperial family towards him. Corvus, his niece, and his wife stood in a huddled mass, shivering with terror. But his mother he couldn’t read. There was fear yes, but confusion, even, maybe hope? It didn’t make sense.
 
The warriors released them and while the other three recoiled, Siobhan stepped forward tentatively, her eyes narrowed, a look of disgust and confusion on her face. “Is...Sean…?” she mumbled. An enormous smile and tears followed. “Sean!” She ran towards him.
 
The Circus rose as one, hands on their weapons, but Sean held out a hand to stop them.
 
Siobhan hurried past them and threw her arms around Sean. “Livia!” she said and pulled her daughter in. The three hugged and Sean tried to hold back his tears. “My babies! I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I’m so sorry, for everything. I never wanted any of this to happen. I fought with Tori for so long to bring you home.”
 
She pulled back and looked around the room. Her smile faded. “Where is Tori?”
 
There it was. He had hoped, for Livia’s sake, that it wouldn't be like this. Of course that was all she cared about. Not them. Just him.
 
“What did you do to him? Where is your father?”
 
How dare she. To come here, with her crocodile tears, just to repeat his lie. Even dead, the Usurper’s grip on her hadn’t faded.
 
Time slowed for him. Sean grabbed a knife from his belt. Siobhan took a step backwards, her eyes were wide with fear. Livia turned to say something. He shoved it into his mother’s stomach and pulled it upwards, carving a huge gash in her abdomen. She screamed, Livia screamed, Metellus laughed, everyone else stood completely still.
 
His mother and sister collapsed on the stairs. Livia pulled off her tunic to try to stem the blood, but the wound was too deep and too long. She would die, but it wouldn’t be quick, and it wouldn’t be easy. Livia screamed and raved at him, then grabbed her knife and climbed dais.
 
Lucius snapped his fingers and two of his Boyz had her restrained in a second. They hauled her away from the throne room. It hurt Sean to cause her so much pain, but one day, she’d thank him for it. She’d see how “Mother” had whored herself out to the man who murdered their real father, and then lied to erase his legacy. How she’d abandoned them, just to enjoy the bed of a monster.
 
He realized his hands were steady now. He decided it hadn’t been nervousness, it had been anticipation. He smiled down at Gibson, who looked back now with shock and horror. It only made him smile wider. He stepped down the dias as slowly as he could. On the way, he held out a hand to Wrench, and she put the heaviest tool she had in his hand.
 
He stood over Gibson and held the wrench an inch in front of his eyes. “Beg.”
 
“Plea-” Gibson sputtered out, before the wrench collided with his jaw.
 
Sean’s grin widened as he hit his prisoner, over and over again. He didn’t want to hear him beg, he only wanted to know that he’d broken him. A syllable was enough. He screamed as he battered Gibson. At some point, he knew the man was dead, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
 
He was covered in blood and having trouble catching his breath by the time he eventually got control of himself. Slowly, he surveyed his people. No one could say he was weak now.
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===Sentenced to Exile===
Imperial Palace
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“Don’t look ch-child, d-d-don’t look.” Corvus whispered over and over again as he clutched Lucia close to his chest, shielding her brutality before them. Again and again, Sean beat the corpse in front of them. At least Siobhan was gone. Someone had dragged her away in the chaos.
 
Finally, Sean stopped and looked around the room, as if looking for his next victim. Corvus closed his eyes and hoped. The moments passed by in silence, until the Imperator finally said, “You.”
 
Corvus opened his eyes and say the bloody wrench pointed directly at him. His knees grew weak, and now it was Lucia supporting him. His tics went into overdrive as he sputtered. But the savages didn’t grab him. They pulled Gloria away instead.
 
She kicked and fought as they dragged her next to the corpse of her brother.
 
Sean kept the wrench and that sick grin pointed at her the whole way. “Gloria Gibson. You’ve infected the Imperial family with the stench of your poisoned line. You will die as the traitor you are.”
 
She turned back to Corvus, her mask of aloofness disappeared for the first time in their married life. “Corvus! Do something! Say something!”
 
He wished he could. Instead, he looked away. Then Sean turned to him, “What do you have to say for yourself, uncle? You were in the bed with the enemy, same as my mother.”
 
He fought against the curse to force the words from his mouth. “S-s-sean, I-I- we nev...I spent a-a-all my n-n-nights here, and sh-she in h-h-her home in the c-c-c-” He tried, but he couldn’t spit it out.
 
“You bastard!” Gloria shrieked at him. “You know I was as much a prisoner as you! Say it! Say anything!”
 
But Corvus didn’t. Sean waved a hand and she was dragged away, her curses for Corvus disappearing towards the balcony rather than the forum and the prison beyond. He shuddered to think of what fate awaited her there.
 
Sean put down the wrench and walked forward, putting a hand on Corvus’ shoulder, all the while grinning like a madman. “Don’t worry, uncle, I know you and Lucia were sent away by the Usurper too. I just wanted to hear it from your own lips. It seems ironic that it was the least of our family who proved to be the most loyal.” Sean turned away and ascended back to his throne.
 
“My uncle and cousin are hereby declared innocent of treason. Let it be known that any who speaks against them speaks against me. Lucia, the usurper removed you from your rightful place, as Grand Mistress of the Lothian League, a position my father, the rightful Imperator, bestowed upon you. You will leave for the Lothario and take your place. Corvus, I have heard it was you who ended the rampage of the Black Warriors. My father found a use for your in bringing the Lothians peacefully into the Hegemony. You will do the same with the Circinans. You will leave tonight, and make sure to bring the same diplomatic staff who worked with you on that mission.”
 
“There is more! The Praetorian Guard have proved themselves incapable of protecting the nation or it’s rulers. They allowed the city to be destroyed by barbarians, murdered my father, and even failed to protect their false Imperator. I hereby declare a new bodyguard for the Imperial family: the Algenib Foederati will be charged with the protection of my person, my family, and my capital.”
 
“Metellus Metalicus, chief of the Flaming Circus! You will serve as my personal bodyguard. Maximus Phallus, warlord of Algenib and chief of the Burning Chrome! As you have cared for my sister Livia for almost two years, you will protect her. Vulgatos, quarterwoman of the Pantheon, you will protect my niece, Lucia.”
 
He started to laugh as he pointed to a deformed man sitting at the base of the dais. “Gnasher Drillbiter! You will guard my uncle Corvus! Let the retard guard the retard!” His laughter filled the hall, but no one joined in.
 
Corvus bowed and rushed Lucia out of the room. They fled to his villa and stayed, crying, in each other’s arms until the Algenibi warrior came to drag him to the spaceport.
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ICHaFBI 16