Caliphate

Highway 310, Northwest of ar-Rebchel, Province of Baya, 23 Muharram,

1538 AH (3 November, 2113)

"We've got the ship," Hamilton heard in his ear. He didn't bother mentioning it to Hans; both he and Petra would have heard the same news. "We're going low. The control for Ling says his people are painting a false image for Caliphate Air Control. As disorganized as these people are, there's good reason to believe no one will notice us dropping off their screens for a while, if at all. ETA is about ninety- seven minutes. If you need us to speed up or slow down, let me know."

"Wilco, Bernie," Hamilton sent back.

Hans was just about to hook up the detonators to the twin wires that led, one from the right most mine, one from the left most, back to the hole. He attached the wires and then laid the detonators on the ground. Petra looked at them nervously.

"It will be fine, Petra," Hans said, glancing up at Hamilton to suggest that he, too, offer some words of comfort.

Hamilton knelt down on one knee to bring his face almost parallel to the girl's. "Honey, Hans or I will come for you. I promise. And . . . "

"Yes?"

He looked very seriously into her eyes, just visible with the scattered moonlight coming through the tree. "Just . . . I love you. I should have said it before but it comes hard to me. Please, though, remember that."

In answer Petra threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. She pulled back after half a minute, looked into his eyes, and said, "I never before knew it was possible to love a man who wasn't a blood relation. Now go before I start to cry."

With that, Hans and Hamilton raced for Hans' borrowed truck. Initially, both went into the cargo compartment, where Hans began to cover Hamilton with a tarp. Other things were in back, too, notably jars full of cyanide crystals, sulfuric acid, a bomb ginned up by Richter via Matheson, and their weapons and ammunition.

"This is the first time I'll have been in action." Hans gulped, holding the tarp over Hamilton and their arms. "I just realized that I'm more nervous than Petra is."

"Don't be," Hamilton answered. "I've been in the shit a lot. Trust me, you're a natural."

"Thanks," Hans said sheepishly. Still, the compliment did make him feel more confident, as it was intended to. "By the way, I really am sorry for punching you."

"Don't mention it. If you hadn't, we wouldn't have gotten as far as we have."