Audacious

49

Gunny Sergeant Brown heard the first shot and shouted, ''Down.'' His Marines obeyed in record time.

Most of the civilian drivers stood up taller to get a better look at whatever was going on. Several drivers in their armored limos actually got out so they could gawk.

One saw Gunny on the ground behind the huge limo and sneered.

His sneer lasted for about fifteen seconds as the sound of automatic weapons filled the night air.

Then the auto-guns on the roof cut loose.

Gunny did not look, but from the sound of things, the guns cycled from target to target, sending a short five-round burst into every human in range.

At least, that's what the sneering guy's body absorbed. Five rounds of 20-mm general purpose.

Not much of the sneer survived him taking one round to the head.

Gunny remembered why light infantry loved the earth and hugged her well.

He checked his own Marines. They were doing their earth-hugging best to stay low. As he expected, Private Haskell managed to take a fragment. In the butt, no less.

He was screaming like he'd been filleted from nap to chap. Making more racket than any of the civilians. But then, none of the civilians were making any noise at all.

Not even breathing.

Gunny laid there, not much liking that all he could do was lie there on the receiving end. He cuddled up close to the recollection that his time to dish it out would come later.

Still, under fire for the first time in his long career, he didn't much care for this part of the battle. And knew it must be worse for the kids under his command.

''Keep it tight, Marines,'' he called. ''The princess is counting on us to suck this up and not do something stupid that'll get us suddenly dead.''

The ''Ooo-rah'' that came back was subdued by the earth that protected them.

Grant von Schrader smiled where he stood by the bronze in the center of the rotunda. Things were going very well.

White-coated caterers had produced machine pistols right on his signal. The most observant of the Secret Service watching from the second floor had noticed and gotten off one shot.

He and his associates had all died within seconds of that lone resistance. The agents close to the president had gone down with him, a gallant, but in the end, useless defiance.

Several of the bodyguards that would not be turned had also gone down shooting. The stream of fire that got them usually took down their patron.

That quickly persuaded most of the powers that be that they were better off holding their hands up and having their paid protection do the same.

For a brief moment, Grant considered letting that wiser protection live through the night. Maybe hire on with his people. But they had been offered a chance to join before. Could he count on them to join later?

He put that problem off for now.

Some of the more-interesting scenes took place when bigwigs found themselves herded into the rotunda at the point of a gun wielded by their own paid security. The shock on their faces was something Grant would treasure for the rest of his life.

There was nothing quite so delicious as awareness dawning too late.

As the gunfire in the hall fell silent, the auto-guns opened up from the roof. Their power rattled the windows and made the palest among those being shoved together go even paler.

Now the only fire inside was for those who refused to accept their state. ''You-can't-do-this-to-me-I'm-Mr.-Big-of-Bigger-and-Biggest'' got a round in the leg.

A half dozen of those, and even the dumbest of the Big, got appropriately small. Or maybe just quiet.

Grant surveyed his handiwork and liked what he saw.

While the fire on the ground floor was heavy, the actual number of deaths on the main floor were few. The president, agents, yes. But people seemed to accept that those were legitimate targets and, somehow, they were not.

The finely dressed saw themselves as different, people of value worth ransoming. They honestly believed their wealth would protect them even in the mouth of a gun.

Over in the front of the rotunda, two bodies were sprawled in blood, one in a soft burgundy dress, the other in a proud royal blue. Ruby and Topaz had served their purpose.

None of the big people really knew them, yet they all had to have seen them at this important party, that event. Now they were dead.

And you would be, too, if you don't do what the guys with guns tell you. It was an easily readable message. Yet those two were nobody that anybody personally knew. No one reached for a gun to defend either of the two women.

Still, people looked at those two familiar bodies, and looked away or tossed up their fancy hors d'oeuvres.

And obeyed the guys with guns.

This was almost too easy.

There was one more dead body Grant wanted to add to that collection. He searched for a certain red dress.

And did not find it.

So he eyed the crowd for bright red and blue Marines…and found them. But the women they surrounded all wore black, except for the orange thing that seemed out of place here.

Grant called up the picture of the princess arriving and, yes, there she was on the arm of the Naval officer.

He now stood alone.

The orange woman, yes, a Naval officer herself, had been escorted by a Marine officer.

Now a sergeant stood at her side.

When had that changed?

Grant eyed the brunette in a similar tight dress to the red one the princess had been wearing when he last saw her. Was someone gaming him?

For only a second he considered having the Marines hauled up to him. Then he dropped it. That they had produced no weapons, offered no proof that they were not armed. And they stood there, united, defiant in their ranks.

And other security men were gravitating to them.

That was going to be a tough nut to crack.

He'd remember that when the time came to kill them all.

Grant tapped his commlink. ''I have a problem, Colonel.''

''Strange enough, so do I. Who goes first?''

''Princess Kristine of Wardhaven was not caught up in our net. I suspect she is on the loose somewhere in the building with two or three of her Marines.''

''That should be easily solved,'' the colonel said. Grant considered disabusing the man of his error but let him go on.

''The rapid reaction force is coming in,'' the colonel announced into the silence. ''If you want a good view of their deaths, you might want to stand behind the rotunda doors.

''Take them down,'' Grant ordered. Just like in the old days. His smile tightened. It would be good to get back to giving orders and having powerful men snap to and obey.

Still, he did not move for a better view. It would be a shame to die gawking at an easy kill if one stray bullet got lucky.

Grant did remember the old times.

Even on the roof, Kris heard the roar of powerful engines. Through a window, she spotted eight-wheeled, armored personnel carriers roaring at full bore for the entrance.

The cavalry was arriving.

Maybe even in time.

NELLY, WHAT'S THE NANO SITUATION?

STRANGE NANOS ARE COMING DOWN THE HALL TOWARD US. I HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS KIND BEFORE. I AM LAUNCHING KILLER NANOS TO TAKE THEM OUT. PLEASE WAIT.

''Freeze. Go dark,'' Kris ordered through unmoving lips.

And Kris turned into a black hole, married to a shadow in a darkened hall. Behind her, her Marines did the same.

Along the roof beside them auto-guns opened fire. Twenty millimeter, piercing, armored shells tore into the top of the carriers. What they did to the men inside, Kris did not want to imagine.

NELLY, WE NEED TO GET MOVING.

KRIS, THESE NANOS ARE GOOD. I AM HAVING TO REINFORCE MY OWN. WE COULD LOSE THIS BATTLE.

DON'T. STRIP MY CROWN IF YOU HAVE TO. KILL THOSE NANOS. WE HAVE TO PUT THOSE AUTO-GUNS OUT OF BUSINESS BEFORE OUR MARINES TRY TO GET IN.

I AM TRYING, KRIS.

Outside, a shell hit a gas tank and the personnel carrier exploded in flames.

Four, five, six of them raced out of control, drivers dead or on fire or both. They collided with walls, trees, one another.

Kris was grateful the distance robbed the scene of human sounds.

And into that small piece of hell, new monsters trundled on tracks that would have shaken any building except this one of granite and marble.

Where did Eden get those old battle tanks? Their appearance left the question irrelevant. Troops with assault rifles trotted along in the shadows of the monsters. This was a combined arms assault by skilled soldiers.

Of course, smoke, a fire plan, and solid preparation of the battlefield would have been nice, too.

But you don't blast a battlefield loaded with the movers and shakers of your planet, now do you. Someone had ordered the heavies in without the heavy prep.

So they rumbled, but no cannon's roared. No machine guns reached out to challenge the auto-guns.

Kris would have shaken her head at the sight. But the door down the hall opened and a man with a machine pistol stuck his head out to get a personal take on the scene.

His face showed hard, alert, lit as it was by the sparkle of burning nanos. He grimaced at the battle taking place in front of his door. Then he studied the hall, marking each shadow.

His hard eyes seemed of half a mind to just spray the space with a full clip and be done with it.

Someone inside shouted something, and he scowled…and turned back in.

The door slammed. Tumblers of a heavy-duty lock spun.

Kris almost let a sigh out.

And the world in front of the Gallery lit up as a rocket shot from the roof to slam into the rear of the lead tank.

It hung there, burning for a second. Then it must have burned through. The rear of the tank exploded.

Another rocket led a straight line of glare to a second tank. In less than a breath, that one, too, was a flaming pyre.

NELLY, HOW MUCH LONGER?

WE ALMOST HAVE THEM, KRIS.

ALMOST IS NO HELP TO THOSE POOR DEVILS BURNING OUT THERE.

I KNOW, KRIS. I AM DOING MY BEST.

Kris knew she was. Knew that no one could do any better. It wasn't Nelly that Kris was mad at. There was a certain Grant von Schrader who was running up quite a tab.

A tab Kris intended to collect to its fullest.

''We are clear. Only our nanos are left,'' Nelly announced.

Kris moved quickly, silently down the hall.