Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

there in his black battle armor, topped with a billowing crimson cape, screaming orders and counterorders till he was purple in what remained of his face. The color clashed with his outfit and warned of future heart problems, but no one felt like getting close enough to tell him. He cursed and yelled at the top of his parade ground voice, trying to force his men to behave through sheer force of personality. But not even the horrible punishments he was threatening were enough to restore order. The mercs were damned if they were going to be shown up by a bunch of pansy hymn singers, and the Church troops were determined to show a bunch of professional thugs what could be achieved by people trained in the one true faith. It was all getting very nasty, and not a little bloody. Both sides got their heads down and got stuck in.
    Jesuit commandos were running back and forth between the lines, screaming orders and breaking up fights with impartial venom toward both sides, using whatever force was necessary. They darted here and there, snapping at their charges like incensed sheepdogs, but even they couldn't be everywhere at once. Still, it was clear to practically everyone present that it was only their efforts that were preventing a complete breakdown of authority. Even battle-hardened mercenaries
    had enough sense to be wary of the Jesuit commandos. They were the elite of the elite, hardened cold-eyed killers said to be second in the Empire only to the Investigators themselves. They fought in battles alongside their men and kept body parts as souvenirs. And not the usual ones, either.
    Cardinal Kassar stopped himself shouting with an effort, gritting his teeth to hold the words back. His hands had clenched into fists, and his whole body strained to run forward and lay heavy hands on the disobedient bastards running amok before him. But he couldn't do that. He knew Flynn's camera was covering him as well as his men, and he couldn't afford to be seen losing control.
    Everything else had gone wrong so far on this mission, but up till now he'd always found someone else to blame it on. A public failure now could undermine the whole purpose of his mission, to restore order on Technos III, and, just as important, do a hell of a lot of damage to his career prospects. So this particular display was going to go right, even if he had to start executing people at random to prove he was serious.
    Toby Shreck studied Kassar from a safe distance and smiled contentedly. He knew a man on the edge of apoplexy when he saw one. He also recognized a complete military cock-up when it was coming unraveled right in front of him. He hadn't seen such a complete mess since Valentine Wolfe slipped a little something into a marching band's mid-time tea break, just for a laugh. The tape of that particular event was a popular best-seller for over six months. He glanced quickly at his cameraman.
    "Tell me you're getting all this, Flynn. They couldn't be providing us a better show if they'd rehearsed it."
    "Relax, chief. Billions of people all across the Empire are watching this live."
    Toby grinned at the magic word live. His previous piece had already gone out to
    first-class ratings, the highest share Imperial News had ever achieved. Some stations were still running it and paying through the nose for the privilege.
    There had been talk of major awards for Toby and Flynn, and, more importantly, large bonuses. The Wolfes had gone into cardiac arrest when they first saw the piece, especially the Mother Beatrice bits, and screamed for their lawyers, but Stephanie and Daniel had somehow managed to transfer all the blame onto Valentine. They'd promised to make changes, but so far nothing significant had changed on Technos III.
    The one really good thing to come out of the uproar was the Wolfes' concession to Imperial News that Toby and Flynn would in the future be permitted to cover all important events live. There was a massive audience in the Empire waiting impatiently to see what Toby and Flynn would come up with next. Which was, of course, their main problem. A good act needs a good encore. Toby for one had not expected anything good to come out of covering a program of drill and weapons training, but he'd had to agree for want of anything else to show. No one else would talk to him now that he was being constantly shadowed by Wolfe security, and his audience was getting impatient.
    Now he smiled contentedly as a bunch of the Faithful brought down a