When Diplomacy Fails…

CHAPTER 26

Horace moved fast enough to keep Highland’s grip under tension, so he knew she was following. Outside, bullets cracked, but none close enough to worry him terribly. At the curb, he swung, detached Highland’s hand, and helped her into the bed with a shove. He frowned. She was soaked. Not critical in the field, but it had to be unpleasant and disturbing for a civilian.

He swung up after her, no longer being young enough to spring, and rolled ungracefully to a bench.

“You stay down, ma’am, miss,” he insisted. Then, holding his carbine over the rail in case of targets, he dug into his kit. Right side, lower, angled pocket, and… there.

He handed her a flat packet.

“Super absorbent gel. Pour it in your hand, and it will soak up the spill.”

She looked overwhelmed from the fire, but she recognized that, seemed to come back to ground, and said, “Thank you.” She started dumping it and applying it.

Technically, it was a clotting agent, but principal’s mental health mattered, too, and they’d already given this woman more adventure than her press releases had ever dreamed. The overload was apparent in her face.

Bullets cracked past, occasionally slapping into the sides. Marlin twitched and threw himself prone. Horace ducked, checked, saw a crater in his armor, and slapped him on the shoulder.

“You’re fine, just a spall.”

“Roger, thanks.”

Bart fired forward, something from each tentacle. The man was really getting good at controlling that beast; if only they made them less monstrous, but of course, batteries and ammo took volume and mass. One gun pointed to each side, ready to hose buildings. One pointed straight up against drones, and at that moment it swung and stuttered. Light pistol rounds were all that was needed to take down most of those things. The grenade launcher he kept pointed forward. He also had a dump gun under his left arm, for close-in hosing.

Elke shouted, “Recon!” and slammed a shell overhead. “Heavy foot traffic ahead, and fighting between vehicles. We’ll be dismounting in two hundred meters,” she said.

Alex shouted, “Understood, stand by.”

Cady said, “Edge and Helas are well-covered and safe. They’ll keep activating repeaters. Five left.”

Alex said,”Understood. Every ten minutes should do it.”

Horace kept his eyes on his sector. Until there were casualties, he was a gun. It always amazed him how few casualties there were. He had firsthand experience on how effective training, movement, and avoidance could be. Right then, a man, head wrapped in a rag and pointing a rifle, rose above the sill of a broken window. Horace twisted his gun that way and fired a burst. Whether he hit or not he was unsure, but the man didn’t shoot.

He heard sobbing. It was Jessie, not Highland. By touch, he located a mild tranquilizer and a mild stim. He reached back and said, “Slap these on your neck.”

Fingers clutched at them. It took her three tries. That was about right for the level he’d prescribed. Then she grabbed that small wooden penguin again. Good.

Bart called, “Obstruction in a hundred meters, checkpoint two hundred past that.”

Alex asked, “Hostiles?”

“I presume they all are.”

“Then feel free to target any threats. With prejudice.”

The battle was fairly intense by local standards, with several hostiles per block. Of course, they’d just hit someone’s headquarters.

Alex said, “Jessie, churp our location.”

“Oh,” she said, and pulled at her phone. She seemed lucid, but slowed. That wasn’t the trank, that was shock.

“Corcoran, cover me,” he said and slid down next to her. He took the phone from her, unshielded it, slid in the battery.

She still had trouble focusing.

“Big battle. Current location. Ms. Highland fleeing anti-government factions. Trying to reach friendly lines of the Sufi.”

“We’re trying to reach the Sufi?”

“That’s what we’re saying.”

“Oh.”

She got it done, and he wondered about disabling the phone again or letting her keep it live. Their location would be known in moments anyway.

Lionel shouted, “Traffic stop, prepare to unass!”

Amidst the rattle of weapon checks and reloading, Horace turned to Highland. “Ready, ma’am?” he asked, coaxing her from a sit to a squat.

“Yes, I am,” she said. She brushed residual sorbent off her pants and strained into position.

A glance confirmed there were a lot more combatants around here.

“Listen to me,” he said, and waited for them both to face him. “I will debark first, and help each of you down. Marlin will front for Jessie. Ms. Highland, you follow me. We will move quickly to improvised cover. Then we can expect to be moving under fire constantly for a while. If I go down, follow Marlin until someone else gives instructions. If he goes down, follow me. Understood?”

“Yes.” “Uh huh.”

“Stand by.”

He craned enough to get another glimpse. There weren’t a lot of hostiles, though there seemed to be quite a few snipers. There was a crush of vehicles that would stop any progress.

“Here we go,” he said.

The vehicle stopped fast but relatively smoothly, given the damaged road and trash. He leaned far back, and grabbed Highland’s shoulder to stop her falling forward. Corcoran did the same with Jessie.

As the momemtum slackened, he slid out the back. Corcoran and Marlin dropped off on either side and fired suppressive bursts. Then Highland slid off the deck, followed by Jessie.

Elke was ready to have fun. She had shotgun, carbine and toys, and no one to stop her until they reached cover. She sprung over the side of the truck, soaked up the impact sting in her feet, and tossed a smoke forward. She raised the shotgun, selected smoke-bangs and fired both, one each way down the street. The two teams swarmed past her into a building, and she brought up the rear seeking anything to shoot. She tugged the lanyard off the present on the truck.

A shot cracked the concrete next to her. She followed it generally back, looking for the source. Across the street and up three floors, a rifleman leaned out a window. Silly, silly. She thumbed for antiarmor and shot. Bart did, too, with a burst of mid caliber, and Jason swung for a shot. The man exploded into goo, but she was fairly sure her charge had blown his armor through his chest a moment before the others.

As she backed through the door, she heard, “Through that?” from an incredulous Cady.

Aramis and Alex stood together. Aramis had a route projected on a filthy gray wall.

“Yes,” Alex said. “En masse, shooting anything in our way, straight along the alley. Then turn left and meet the checkpoint.”

“How do we stop them shooting us?”

“Yeah, I’m working on that,” Aramis said. “Hopefully they’ll recognize some combination of us or Ms. Highland.”

Lionel asked, “Did this seem like a good idea at the time?” while he and Jason loaded more ammo into Bart’s rig.

Alex said, “Still does, barring any new ones.”

“No, I have nothing. Except ammo.”

“Let’s move.”

Elke checked locations of her accessories by touch and fell in behind Bart and Aramis. It was always best to lead with firepower.

As they left through the south, someone finally got courage to go for the vehicle. She heard the boobytrap hiss in that sibilant white noise, which presaged a shrieking scream of anguish. Flammable metals didn’t stop for much, certainly not textiles, and moist flesh just made them react more.

They made it across the street as a mass before anyone caught them. However, as they entered the alley, fire behind them erupted.

“Man down! Man down! Corcoran is down!”

Cady shouted, “Marlin, stay with him, get to cover.”

They might lose a lot over this. In the meantime, though, Elke turned and shot her last three obscurants to the alley mouth, and dumped a gun into the haze. It ran empty, she slid a prepared case into it, and pulled the trigger. She tossed it aside for some local to find. When he opened the breech he’d be without a face.

Peasants never learned not to mess with strangers. Perhaps, though, she could improve their manners a bit with gentle reminders.

Her load was significant and she panted. Thank god she didn’t have the principal, the hanger on, or the Medusa.

At that moment Bart splashed something else overhead. Another drone.

Aramis said, “We have lots of recon. Active searches right now.”

She pulled her monitor from her chest pouch and looked. There were lots of feeds, lots of scans.

“They’re searching all frequencies and nets. They’ll have us in a moment.”

“A hundred and fifty meters,” Bart said.

Alex said, “Good. Ms. Highland, please look up in the air for a few moments.”

“Uh?”

“Look up. We want them to see you. We’ll go between these buildings single file, and fast. That will put us one street from the CP. Okay, that’s enough.” Highland was still staring up. She seemed completely broken and pliable now. It was amusing how impending death changed people’s self-assessment.

It was also interesting how far 150 metres could be in hostile territory.

“We should go active,” Elke said.

“How?”

“Bart and I clear the route, loudly. After all, we want notice.”

Alex said, “Do it. Formation, check loads, thumbs up, and go.”

Elke led the way down the gap. It wasn’t even an alley. If someone collapsed the building, they were all fucked and forgotten. She went at a sprint. Behind her, Bart scraped and banged the walls. He had only two functional guns now, one carbine, one rifle. The long range and grenade guns were dry.

“Dump that in the street,” she called over her shoulder.

“I plan to,” he huffed.

The view ahead wasn’t encouraging. She turned over her shoulder and shouted, “I’ll need to create a new door over there.”

Alex was behind Highland this time, against his better judgment, but the firepower was up front, the principal in the middle, and he needed to ensure she made it. The rest were expendable. Meat shields were useful, but they’d get in the way of the firepower.

He heard Elke’s statement and knew that meant explosives. Shit.

Elke reached the street. He knew because it got loud and smoky, then louder still. Bart fired a long burst, then unslung the Medusa.

That was a hint to hurry the fuck up.

He burst into light followed by Cady, and a scan showed the problem. They’d come out exactly between two factions, right in the middle. He’d thought Aramis meant that as a hypothetical, not to actually do it. Both sides tried to fire through the smoke.

Elke fired two rounds one way, turned and fired two the other, yanked something on her shotgun, and threw it. She slung two things on slings each way, and sprinted across the street.

Aramis and Shaman had Highland and rushed her behind. Lionel scooped a finally exhausted Jessie over his shoulder and followed.

Alex shouted, “Run you fuckers! Fire in the hole!” He made a quick head count by eye, and charged for cover.

Ahead, the world exploded. Again. This couldn’t be healthy.

He groggily cleared the street just as the Medusa went into self-destruct mode. It locked onto anything moving and fired until it ran dry. Ten seconds later it exploded. So did Elke’s shotgun. Enough explosive should dissuade anyone. It was certainly dissuading him.

The building he entered had been secured by barriers until Elke had cut her way in. The concrete still smoked from whatever she’d used to pierce it. He jumped over the rubble to find a door-shaped hole blown in the building’s extrusion, if doors were round and cut by platter charges.

Inside was barren, stripped of all but structure. He strode fast to catch up with the others, halfway across.

“I’m surprised they didn’t just demolish it,” Cady said.

Indeed. It was a shell of metal and plastic struts, decaying concrete, with occasional weeds growing through the debris.

Jason said, “Rules. Cultural and environmental protections. Even a mundane dump like this can’t be demolished, but it can be stripped.”

“What do we do outside?”

Cady said, “There should be military barricades and interdiction weapons. We can call and negotiate, or disarm and not present a threat.”

“Jason, Elke, can you jam them for a moment?”

Jason said, “Hah. No. Spoof, possibly. Throw up enough chaff, we can distract the automated systems. But someone has to go out unarmed.”

“I will,” Cady said. “I’ll take Jessie.”

Alex looked at Jessie. She nodded nervous agreement.

“I’ll call first. Stand by.”

He pulled out his other phone, punched in the number manually and connected. When the operator answered he cut the man off with, “This is Chief Marlow.”

“Yes, sir, please stand by.”

A moment later he heard, “This is Consul Beaumont. Your request is approved. Where would you like to meet the Special Service detachment?”

“We’re still working on that. Who should I contact?”

“Senior Agent Machac.” Alex memorized the number and recited it. Elke nodded acknowledgment that she had it, too.

He closed the connection, put out a hand for Elke’s spare phone, then used that to call.

“Agent Machac.”

“This is Marlow.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We need to meet with you to transfer Minister Highland to your protection. Is this agreeable?”

“Absolutely. We will accept responsibility on transfer.”

“Yes, did they tell you we’re under attack right now?”

“They did not, but I can follow the news. We can come to your location.”

“Thank you. Sir, I trust you implicitly once we connect. I do not trust our communications or other agencies. We will meet you. Stand by, please. I will be in touch.”

He closed again and looked around.

Elke said, “I have little left at this point. We’ll have one shot and it better work.”

Cady said, “Let us go first. Use it if we need to retreat.”

Alex said, “Go ahead.” To himself he said, if we need to retreat we’re pretty much dead. Highland’s fanclub are squawking chickens, the army won’t help or will be stuck in a bureaucratic loop, and the administration is trying to get her dead. No joy. He’d have words about this with Meyer when they got back. If.

“Jason, keep us secure, I need to watch this.”

“Roger.”

Cady pulled releases and dropped her gear. Two of her team took it. She and Jessie raised hands and carefully stepped through rubble, into the street.

The peacekeeping position was a small-scale fort, with concrete and fill walls two meters high and broad, wire, sensors, observation platforms. One of the buzzing drones circling around dipped low to look at them. Cady kept leading Jessie forward, toward what was officially an “Interaction Point,” where locals could meet for advice, to report incidents, or ask for help. They didn’t often, and Alex had the impression this was actually a first for the unit on shift.

The drone extended a mic for her to talk. Then someone came to the gate, into an entry alcove.

“How are we doing back here?” he asked.

Jason said, “I have a perimeter of Lionel and Bart. Aramis and I have Highland. Elke and Shaman are roving.”

“Threats?”

“I don’t think anyone saw us, or if so, they’re reluctant to enter the building. I’ve got that covered.”

“Good,” he acknowledged. Cady and Jessie had been waiting, and finally someone was coming out in person. Several someones. A squad.

“Troops inbound on foot. Squad strength. Current armor, camo and weapons. Officer accompanying.”

Alex asked, “Are you going out to meet them?”

“If they ask, otherwise I’m right here.”

The squad approached at a light trot. Cady and Jessie had hands on head. They were going to come in, he figured.

“Expect dynamic entry at this location, by friendly forces.”

“Understood. Arms down on my order,” Jason told the others.

He moved farther back, left his carbine slung low, and watched them approach.

They could probably see him by now, despite the brightness differential. The door was large and open for exactly that reason. The first two flanked the opening and poked carbines in. The next pair came in, weapons high, pointed at him, then the others.

Jason said, “Unit, arms down.”

This was a very tense moment. Ripple Creek were all professional. Were all these troops experienced?

Cady led the rest in, arms still up, followed by a sergeant and a captain.

The captain said “You!” and grimaced in distaste.

It was Captain Roye.

“Us,” Alex said.

The standoff between troops and mercenaries lasted fifteen seconds.

“Talk fast,” the captain said.

Alex did so. “There are several threats to the Minister. At least one has hacked her feeds, and at least one is manipulating the opposition. Nothing reported is accurate. We have her here, of her own accord, and have been fighting through factions to keep her safe.”

“Why did you feel the need to fight?”

“Some of them are trying to kill her.”

Roye raised his eyebrows and said, “As I’m informed, most of them are trying to find her.”

Was it possible the signals they’d received had been localized for them only? Possible. If it was narrowcast to a few blocks, there’d be few to receive, or notice, or care, except themselves.

“I can assure you that is not the case in actuality.”

“Well, that’s not my problem. What is now my problem is that you’ve started a massive fight, which is going to require me to fix.”

“If it keeps the Minister safe, we’re available to help.”

Roye did not look happy. “Agent, with respect, every time you try to help, we have another disaster on our hands. I can furnish you a ride back to base, and in fact, I officially suggest so, or you can clear the hell out of my line of fire. Bureaucratic BS following that rescue of your man is why I’m in this tasking now.”

That explained the hideous camo instead of the gray splinter he’d had previously.

He couldn’t fault the man’s position. Given conflicting information, the fact that the difference in their structures and goals had caused problems, and the government’s habit of blaming the officer on scene for everything, it was quite understandable. Nor did he have any idea what he could offer.

Highland said, “Captain, I am here voluntarily now, and I do trust my guards. Any help you can give them is appreciated. I prefer not to return to base just yet.”

Jason shouted, “Contact north!” as fire came through that entrance.

The sergeant repeated, “Contact north!” as a round came his way, and added, “And east! Multiple contacts!”

Aramis and Jason swarmed Highland and pulled her down. Everyone scrabbled for weapons. The troops dove into the building and took positions around the door.

Roye was angry.

“Have you really stirred the natives up to attack a UN position?”

“Sir, it wasn’t us. Really. Someone is playing all of us for power. Highland has supporters, detractors, enemies, people willing to fake attacks for image, possible assassins, disputes with other agencies. She’s somewhat contentious.”

“And this sounds like a paranoid conspiracy theory.”

“It’s not paranoid if they’re actually shooting at you,” he said, just as a burst of something chewed the floor.

“Yeah, we’ll sort it out afterward,” Roye said. “Call for support.”

The sergeant said, “Already did, sir. Advised delay. Other attacks all around.”

“I’d blame you for this,” Roye said. “Except it happens every couple of months.” Then he spoke into his mic. “Understood, and thank you. Grid as shown. We’re two five zero meters from the gate.” He looked up and said, “A vehicle patrol is coming in. We can fall alongside them and through.”

Two hundred and fifty meters. That was the distance to safety, and once there, someone still wanted Highland dead. What had they accomplished other than a runaround?

Well, they’d taken out two BuIntel paramils, and a bunch of her opposition were tied up killing each other. Maybe they’d drawn enough notice.

The two vehicles rolled in in a hurry. One Grumbly, one stretched light truck. The gunner on the Grumbly had a neural inducer and kept sweeping the area around them. Sure, induced pain would stop people, but only those not behind the lightest of cover, or in immediate visual range. The rear truck had a proper gun, but the odds of them being allowed to use it…

Not for the first time, Alex felt sorry for the military, hamstrung by all those feelygood regs and not equipped with enough lawyers to fight them.

In the meantime, though, they had another vehicle. They’d spent the better part of a day swapping from foot to vehicles and back.

The trucks slowed in the middle of the street, then guided slowly over to the right.

“Move,” Alex said, and they formed a block around Highland, with Cady’s team around Jessie. He wondered if Jessie knew she was a decoy.

The crossfire was a bit reduced by the neural projector. That reduced threat concerns, but not of random fire. There was enough going on all over… the locals seemed aware that the troops couldn’t really do much to them, and flaunted it.

“Got air support, Captain?” he asked.

“We have recon drones to document incidents, so charges can be pressed,” Roye said. “They’ve never caught anyone to press charges against, of course.”

“No combat craft?”

“No. Some drones are armed, though not officially.”

As much as he tried to be apolitical, that’s what he should have expected from this administration. They were the most violent, militaristic pacifists possible.

He wondered if their aerial antagonists planned to avoid the drones, erase records afterward, or just plan on bullshit to evade the issue. Anything was possible.

“How far do we need to get for support?”

“The plan was for them to send a drone chopper. There are problems. So they’re supposed to be sending a live pilot.”

“To meet where?”

Roye said, “That a great fucking question, since your troublemaking has made our base untenable. They can’t land with the fire levels coming in, we don’t have enough lethal weapons to secure the area, and now everyone knows where it’s all going down. I’ve suggested a rooftop.”

“Good, which one?”

“The one right above us, but now the UN Aviation Agency is insisting it’s not an approved flight corridor.”

That was ridiculous, petty, bureaucratic and no doubt true. “What, then?”

“We go back and buckle down until they get us.”

Alex had to make a tactical decision fast. They’d be surrounded by troops, which would boost their defensive numbers, but, they’d also be a fixed target. There’d be more incoming fire, and it would be too cute and convenient for someone to lob in a charge, kill Highland and blame any number of local factions and Ripple Creek.

“Go ahead. We’ll relocate and try again.”

“Dammit, contractor, first you call me out, expose my position and divide my forces, now you think you’re going to waltz away?”

Alex shook his head. “Our job is to protect the minister. That is all.”

The captain shrugged. “Well, now we have to manage. How much ammo do you have?”

“We’re pretty much full. We haven’t actually engaged much.”

“Good. I’ll need to redistribute that among the rest of us who do have lethal weapons.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “I don’t fucking think so.”

“Excuse me? I believe I’m the ranking officer here.”

“We’re not military.”

“I have the authority to commandeer what I need for the mission.”

“So do I. I also have an unlimited license to kill people.”

The captain furrowed his brow. “Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

Elke was moving around behind him. If this got ugly, it would be loud and violent.

Highland snapped, “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not taking my guards’ ammo, like some Social Democratic activist.”

Apparently it was true the different arms of the statists didn’t get along. She was fine taking assets from others. If she needed those assets, though, or thought of a better place for them…

What an elitist bitch.

Luckily, she was their elitist bitch for now.

Rowe looked around, making his own summation.

“They told me to stick with Highland. They say they don’t trust you.”

“Hah. Don’t trust us to let her conveniently die. I think they’re actually willing to take us out to get to her.”

Cady said, “They can still use her as a martyr. Massive uprising. If I can figure out how to exploit that, so can they.”

Alex said, “Of course. That lets them play the rebellion against the UN card and move in in force.”

Rowe asked, “But what’s here?”

“Settling room, distraction, factions to play off against each other endlessly. When was the last time the government tried to solve a problem?”

“That’s not true, you know,” Highland said.

He looked at her. “Oh, really?”

“The problem is no one wants to pay the cost of solving the problems. I wanted to make a difference when I started. Then I realized that the only way to get elected was to lie my face off, then juggle things until the next election, betting on short memories to save me. Now that I’m appointed it’s much more dangerous. I have to do what Chief Fuckup wants, regardless of what it might do to my career. In between, occasionally someone gets something done for one of their power blocs, and the whole mess restabilizes like collapsing rubble.”

“You really think that’s what people want?”

“They keep voting for it, so yes.”

He would really have to consider that.

Jason said, “Why do you think anyone with the assets moves to the far colonies? Hell, that’s the whole reason my adopted colony was created.”

“That was one of the huge readjustments,” she said. “Your founding corporations have a lot of assets. They’re now increasingly off Earth and harder to manipulate.”

Jason almost smiled. “Pardon me for liking that, ma’am.”

“Eventually the General Assembly is going to make you share all that wealth.”

He didn’t want to argue politics, though she did need distracted.

“Yeah, well we need to move and fast. We have the military vehicles. I’m taking them.” He looked at Rowe, who shrugged.

“They’ll argue it out afterward. My safest response is to agree to an allied civilian force with the Minister here.”

“And I’ll need whatever ammo you have, and your troops’ guns.”

Rowe gaped.

“I don’t fucking think so.”

Alex snickered. “Interesting turnabout. So, are we going to work together here, or do we leave you sitting? I can move faster than you. Unless you plan to fight us-the locals will love that.”

“We’re going.”

“Your troops must drop their lethal weapons. Now.”

Rowe seethed openly, but he seemed to understand the rule. Frankly, Alex didn’t need them except as bullet stoppers. He turned and pointed. His troops very clearly did not like it at all, but complied. They clutched their nonlethal weapons and looked ready to use them.

“Aramis, where do we go?”

“There’s a substantial bazaar three kilometers west.”

Rowe said, “Yes, we patrol there.”

Alex looked around. “Good place for a handoff?”

Aramis said, “It’s public. Start with that.”

Cady said, “There’ll be lots of witnesses, if we can avoid scaring them. Keep Ms. Highland masked until we’re ready? Then we have instant video attention.”

“I like it. Let’s move. Captain, I would like troops in the rear.” He started walking, and signed for the others to fall in to formation.

“In the rear?” Rowe seemed surprised but gratified.

“This is executive protection. We want not to get in a fight if we can avoid it, and to be discreet.”

“I do not believe that you are lecturing me on discretion.”

Alex didn’t either.

“There are different levels of discretion. But we may need backup.”

“With nonlethal weapons,” Rowe clarified. Or was he complaining?

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fucked up.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but you guys don’t get paid enough.”

“Remember that in three thousand meters.”

Ahead, Bart and Aramis broke trail, Lionel and Marlin flanked, Jason did overwatch, Alex and Cady brought up the rear. Alex could see all that, and Elke helping the two women scarve their faces as they moved. Shaman was nearby and ready. Behind, twenty angry young men were ready to shoot anything that annoyed them, including Alex.

The sporadic fire dropped behind, encouraged to do so by Jason and Cady. Cady was one hell of a marksman, possibly almost as good as Jason.

However, the horrifically bright uniforms marked the unit clearly, and even without that, a platoon-sized group of armed adults was clearly a platoon-sized group of armed adults. It dissuaded random potshots, but it meant they were certainly being tracked. That was fine for now.

It was hazy and hot. Slightly lower gravity didn’t help much. There was an increasing amount of dust and other pollutants clogging the air, then the nostrils. Alex’s straps cut into him, and his feet were sweating lumps. He pushed on.

The streets resumed habitation in this area. There were little shops and some larger businesses in random assortment, with two large apartment blocks ahead. Small dwellings were above the shops, some with laundry out to dry, dosses and cooking grills on small balconies. The vehicles varied from average to scrap, with some obviously mobile lodging.

Still, no one wanted a fight, or perhaps the following uniforms actually helped. They strode briskly along, crossing an intersection in bunches at a jog, then waiting, weapons low ready, for the rest.

That was when they were attacked. Bunching couldn’t be helped, and in fact, offered offensive advantage. But they started taking fire from one of the blocks, and from across the street.

There was little cover, so four mercs clutched around Highland and ducked behind a car. The rest swarmed around and returned fire.

Jason said, “LMG in the building, fourth floor, second window west. Got him distracted.”

“Pin them down, Elke, make them scared.”

She already had a grenadelike thing in hand and arced it up and out. It flashed into howling, screaming, spinning pyrotechnics that tumbled down nice and pretty, then cracked out neural tingles and, apparently, light frag. The group of young males departed in several directions.

“Mudslimes are Satan’s whores!” one of them shouted.

Alex muttered, “Well, good thing none of us are Muslim.”

Another burst from the building made him duck and flinch. Whoever was up there was a respectable operator.

Next to him, one of the soldiers, looking inordinately mean for someone wearing neon colors, shouted, “If I had my grenade launcher, that asshole would not be a problem!”

“Noted,” was all Alex could say. “Jason, paint it, all troops, fire on his mark.”

Jason stood, snap shot and continued. Puffs indicated bullets cracking on the extruded concrete. Four others joined in, along with Highland, and two of the troops had apparently completely disregarded the order and brought carbines from their gear. Jason shrugged, capped off ten quick shots, raised a hand and shouted, “ Cease fire! ” He tapped Cady, then Shaman, and the code propagated out. In two seconds, the mercenaries moved with Highland secure in the middle, and the troops tapered off fire and fell in behind.

Rowe said, “I have two light casualties, detailing two to drop out with them and follow, or shelter in a building.”

Alex said, “Noted. Aramis, tag it.”

“Marked.”

“We’ll have someone sent, too.”

He wasn’t sure if anyone had hit the gunner, but the volume of fire seemed to have chilled his ardor. Nothing further came from there.

They crossed another street. The thoroughfare they followed tangled up after the gunfight. Cross traffic came in

Bart swore in German.

“Talk to me.”

“ Hurrensohne springbladers. Two. Forward left forward high.”

He looked forward and slightly left, on roofs. Yes, there they were.

Highland said, “They’re supposed to be called off! He lied again!”

“Keep going,” Alex ordered at once. “Move now, talk later. Ma’am, I think it’s a last gasp attempt. If they kill you, they deny it and blame anyone they wish. If they don’t, they meet as planned. With churps reporting you’re about to meet with rescue, they can’t openly drop you.”

A flash and a dot turned into a woosh, into an incoming mini missile.

“Scatter!” he shouted and dove to cover Highland, along with Lionel and Aramis.

He realized his ears were ringing and that blast had been all concussion, not far away. His vision was blurry, his ears numb and his body tingled.

“Track them,” he mumbled. “What do we have?”

“Casualties,” someone replied, sounding tinny.

“Elke, Jason, Bart, someone…”

“On your feet, Alex,” Shaman said. He felt a sting that turned into coolness trickling through his neck. His brain thrummed, his skin burned, but he resumed functionality.

“Let’s move fast,” he said.

Rowe said, “Chief Marlow, we have several casualties.”

He looked around and saw Rowe referred to the troops specifically. Several had taken frag or been slammed by percussion.

“Elke, cut them a door.”

She snagged a charge, slapped it on a doorplate, rolled aside and thumbed her detonator.

It was a small charge, but after the previous one had shaken him up, it still hurt. However, they had an open building of some kind in which to shelter.

“Good luck,” he said. “We’re moving. Help Witch.”

A moment later he said, “Oh, and Jessie.”

Yeah, the young woman was holding up well. And at least the publicity paid off in the end. So far.

“Where’d the son of a bitch go?” he asked.

Aramis said, “Unknown. They headed south and kept going.”

“They’ll be back. What do we have for long range?”

Jason said, “I can possibly make three hundred meters.”

“Do it if you can. Hostile to be shot on sight.”

“Will do, and I’ll call for volley fire.”

“Right, can’t hurt.”

He thumbed his phone and said, “Last contact.”

The connection beeped and at once he heard, “This is Machac.” The man still sounded cultured and unhurried.

“We’re going to meet at the Garden Bazaar, three klicks north of our recent location.”

“I know where that is.”

“Well, there are still two guys on the springblades. You don’t know who’s behind that yet, do you?”

“Not at all. Do you want us to meet you sooner?”

“The bazaar will be fine. We’re five minutes out.”

He disconnected without waiting for a response.

He wasn’t the only one staggering, but Highland seemed reasonably stable, so they’d done their job properly. Could they finish up now?

“Elke, how are you set on smoke?”

She counted by touch. “A couple of minutes’ worth.”

“Can you hold one as we travel?”

“Make us an area target instead of points? Hold on.”

She fumbled with something, pulled out a bandage and started wrapping it around a smoke grenade.

“It’s going to catch on fire, but I can hold it for the duration.”

“Pop it. Contact movement. Ms. Highland, grab onto Bart’s harness. Let’s move.”

Elke pointed Aramis to the front, with Lionel, then took the number three position. Alex followed her, then Bart and Highland. The others gripped off the sides and back.

Following a concussion with lungfuls of ammoniac smoke was not the best thing for either health or concentration, but with the group clutching into a chain, they could move well enough. But were they concealed from outside, or just blocking their own vision?

“Time to waste the flashbangs!” he called. “As interruptions.” He let his carbine hang while he reached into a pouch and pulled his free. He strained his thumb forcing the cap loose, then caught the lanyard in his teeth, yanked and tossed it to the right. “Every ten or fifteen seconds, and fire in the-” BANG!

His ear got punched again and the smoke eddied in ripples around him.

Off to the side, Jason said, “Contact airborne! Right forward forward high!”

Elke shouted, “Take this!” and shoved her shotgun over. Jason fired his, dropped his, took hers and raised it.

Alex had his own up, saw the figure, shouted, “All fire!” and started shooting. Maybe enough bullets in the air would get lucky.

The figure leapt across a building roof, about fifteen meters up. He did have to acknowledge that was one hell of a brave way to travel, and not something that would catch on generally.

Whoever the guy was, he seemed to be raising some other weapon, and relying on speed, angle and altitude for protection, along with distortion effects and armor. He was probably pretty safe, unless..

Whatever Elke had loaded, Jason fired. Shotgun. It must be one of her tungsten bore-riders, that would breach almost anything. The recoil staggered Jason back, but the shot hit. Their antagonist tumbled and twisted, the impact disturbing his trajectory enough, and tossing his leg off line. Instead of landing, he cartwheeled across the roof, over the edge and landed with a cracking thud a few meters ahead.

Cady and Lionel dropped out of formation, sprinted hard, caught up and stomped on him. They pinned and twisted his arms, Cady reached down with a pistol, and put a round in the crease between his body armor and helmet, right through the cervical spine. He convulsed twice and stopped.

From the front, Aramis said, “Through that alley will put us right in the bazaar.”

“Keep moving. Lionel, Bart, I need you two to flank front. As we pass, take our weapons. We want to look nonthreatening to the public, blend in, then meet these people. Cady, Jason, you’ll have overwatch, and be prepared to do something violent. Jessie, peel out and start recording as soon as you’re through the alley. In the meantime, everyone watch top.”

Elke’s smoke was still pouring out.

“About thirty seconds left,” she said. “Take it aside?”

Alex said, “Yes. Walk that way down the street. Everyone else into the alley. Move.”

Elke moved the flare gingerly and winced. Yeah, the stink of scorching fabric indicated how hot it was. He went left at a walk with Aramis. The rest moved into the alley, shifting from tactical movement to a nonthreatening walk.

It was long and dark. There seemed to be a couple of small lanes crossing ahead, and it looked to be about 200 meters to the bazaar itself. They kept weapons up, trained instincts leading them to create overlapping fields of fire.

Alex pulled his phone up. “Mister Machac, are you there?”

“Here,” the man replied. “Are you arriving?”

“It’ll still be about five minutes. We’ve been delayed,” he lied. “We’ll be coming in north of you. Stand by.”

He closed the connection and disconnected power again. The phone dropped back into its shield.

The group crossed one lane, which had everything from trucks to donkeys and a Mercedes, then back into the alley, narrower here and nasty. They were alone, though, and no one seemed to be aware of them.

Aramis said, “Shit, it’s widening out. Conceal fast.”

There was a clatter and shuffle as they all handed weapons off to Lionel and Bart. Rucks went too, into a pile. There was just enough room to squeeze by, and the two men stood over it all, shotguns ready. As he passed, Alex unslung his pack, passed over his carbine, drew his pistol and concealed it under his hands.

“Here we go,” he said, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

The alley widened because whatever had once stood here had collapsed. The pieces were gone, probably for reuse, but the remains of a foundation were irregular underfoot. There were booths here, selling very questionable items for any culture on this planet-tattoos, porn, mild drugs. Ahead was the bustle of the bazaar proper, stalls, trailers and shops, noise and shouts and haggling customers.

“Find them,” Alex ordered in a calm voice.

Aramis said, “Twelve people in suits, standing in a defensive circle around three limos, forty meters ahead, mostly facing north.”

Reactively, everyone started to surge forward.

“Steady,” he said. “Don’t surprise anyone. Jessie, start sending. Elke, slave your photos to her feed. Walk slowly.”

Elke said, “I’ve also got the photos of the bladers. That should prove interesting in a press release.”

Highland said, “Oh, my, yes, thank you.”

Yes, that would pretty well cinch the election for her. And how had they come around to actually caring and supporting that goal, at least on paper?

Because the administration was that corrupt and incompetent that even a bitch like Highland looked good in comparison.

He remembered the BuState security chief saying that Special Service were not that special. They got within ten meters before someone positively IDed them. Hands came up to indicate “halt,” and people shuffled around.

From there they did okay and it was anticlimactic. One man stepped forward. “I’m Machac.”

“Marlow. Glad to see you. Here’s Ms. Highland.”

“Ma’am.”

“You are officially accepting responsibility for her safety?”

“I am.”

“Then good luck to you. And to you, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Chief,” she said, looking wrung out and worn. “I do appreciate it. I…” she seemed about to make a speech, then just said, “Thank you.”

“Glad we could be of service. We’ll just see you into the limo,” he said, with a glance at Machac.

The man didn’t smile, but it seemed to be professional mask, not personal. He opened the door, Highland sat in heavily, and another agent took a seat next to her.

JessieM stepped up, held her phone in front of Alex. It showed a load of Highland being transferred into the limo.

“Check with an outside feed,” he said.

She thumbed and gestured and said, “I have a feed from Georgie Ortiz. She’s known and reliable. There are ten copies and forwards.”

“Good. Then we’ll call you officially transferred. Thank you very much for your help. Ms. Highland should be proud of you.”

“Thank you,” she said with a tired smile. “I need to sit down now.” Then she sat heavily on the seat, and had to lift her legs in by hand, she was so wobbly.

Machac touched his earbud. “Yes? Stand by.” He spoke to Alex. “Relaying message that the lifter will not be able to meet you. BuState has a truck arriving in ten minutes. If Ms. Highland consents, we can remain to protect you until then.”

That was both generous and a bit insulting, though probably not intentionally.

“We’ll be fine. Thanks for the support.”

“Understood.” Machac nodded, climbed in, and three limos drove away slowly.

That left Ripple Creek on their own.

As usual.

As they preferred.