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 pier
ce 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.”