Lilliput Legion tw-9

by Simon Hawke

  Stroud's eyes widened. "Are you serious? Do you realise what you're doing, Sergeant'!"

  "I'm following orders, sir," the sergeant said, resting his hand on the butt of his weapon. "'Open the case, please."

  Stroud shook his head with resignation and reached into his pocket. The sergeant of the guard's gun leaped out if its holster. The men on either side of the courier instantly grabbed his arms.

  "Easy, easy!" said Stroud. "Jesus, what is it with you people? I was only getting the key for this bracelet."

  The sergeant of the guard nodded and the men released him. He kept the courier covered with his gun. "Just bring it out slowly, sir, if you don't mind," he said, his voice even and polite.

  Moving carefully and deliberately, Lt. Stroud removed the key from his pocket and showed it to the sergeant of the guard.

  "Take the bracelet off him," The sergeant of the guard said. One of the men took the key away from him and unlocked the courier's bracelet, removing it from his wrist.

  "I've heard of tight security, but you guys are really something," said Stroud.

  "What the hell do you think I've got in here, a bomb?"

  "We'll find out as soon as we scan it, sir, “ said the sergeant of the guard, reaching down and bringing out a portable scanner gun with a built-in screen. It hummed faintly when he turned it on. "All right, let's see what's in here. If these- are nothing but dispatches, sir, you'll have my sincere apologies and-what the hell"

  The lid of the briefcase suddenly sprang open and a filament-thin beam of bright, coherent light lanced up out of the case. The sergeant of the guard screamed and recoiled, clapping his hand to his right eye, which the tiny laser had melted right out of its socket.

  Stroud elbowed the guard on his right in the solar plexus, then back fisted the other one in the face. breaking his nose. He brought his right hand down in a sharp, chopping motion and the blow broke the neck of the first guard. then he hit. the second guard again with a strike to the throat. collapsing his trachea. The sergeant of the guard hit the alarm button on the console as more laser fire hit him and he sagged down to the floor. As the alarm klaxon sounded, tiny, black-garbed commandos started rising rapidly up out of the case, carried aloft on miniature floater paks. -

  "Go! Go!" shouted Stroud, running around the counter and stabbing at the console, trying to find the switch to cut off the alarm.

  In his office suite, across the hall from his private quarters, Forrester heard the alarm and glanced at the security monitor mounted in the comer, just below the ceiling. What he saw was a platoon of armed Lilliput commandos wearing floater paks, hurtling down the corridor. A bright ball of blue-white fire from a miniature autopulser flew at the lens. The image on the monitor broke up and the screen went blank.

  "Jesus Christ!" said Forrester. yanking open his desk drawer and pulling out an antique, ivory-stocked; Colt Python. 357 Magnum with a six-inch, vent-ribbed barrel. As he bolted toward the door, he heard screams and autopulser fire coming from the front office.

  He stuck his head out the door and almost ran right into a wire-thin laser beam. He brought up his gun and the Colt Python roared and bucked, sending a copper-jacketed, hollow-point. 357 magnum round slamming into the oncoming Lilliput commando, obliterating his entire upper torso and penetrating the miniature floater pak, which exploded in a tiny fireball.

  Another laser beam singed Forester’s earlobe and one autopulser blast narrowly missed his head as he fired twice more, two handed, then hit the floor and rolled as two little exploding fireballs passed over his head. He came up on one knee and fired again, then cried out with pain as he took a direct hit on his kneecap. The Lilliput commandos had disposed of the security detail and were now swooping down on him like angry hornets. He fired his last two rounds, missing with one and taking out another miniature assassin with the last, then he threw the gun as one of the Lilliput commandos came diving down at him, firing his laser. He felt the heat as the beam grazed his check and then the Lilliputian went pinwheeling out of control as the thrown gun struck him a glancing blow. He struck the wall and the tiny floater pak exploded. Forrester dove through the doorway into his private quarters and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

  Steiger and Delaney were in the lift tube, on their way up, when the alarm klaxon sounded. A second before the tube delivered them to the penthouse floor, the klaxon was silenced. Both men had their guns out. As they came diving out of the lift tube, they heard the unmistakable sound of Forrester touching off one of his antique firearms and it was the sound of the big magnum cutting loose that saved their lives. Stroud involuntarily glanced in the direction of the sound at the moment that the lift tube doors opened and the quick, diving exit of the two temporal agents caught him by surprise. Instinctively, he fired through the open lift tube doors, but Steiger and Delaney weren't there anymore and Stroud screamed as he was engulfed by two plasma bursts.

  It took the Lilliput commandos scant seconds to blast their way through Forrester’s door, but by that time he had already reached his den, where he kept martial mementoes of the past, souvenirs brought back-or rather, brought ahead-by the men and women of the First Division. When the Lilliputians broke through the door and came flying through into Forester’s private quarters, they found him standing at the entrance to his den, armed with an M-16. As they came flying in and started to fan out, Forrester fired several quick bursts of the. 223 high velocity rounds, knocking several tiny invaders out of the air by pure chance, but it was impossible to achieve any kind of accuracy with a fully automatic weapon against such tiny targets moving with such speed.

  Steiger and Delaney were racing down the corridor when they heard the M-16 light off. Several quick, sharp bursts were fired, and then the weapon suddenly fell silent. Fearing the worst, they came rushing through the entrance to Forrester’s quarters, heedless of their own safety, and Steiger recoiled with a cry of "Shit!" as a Lilliputian strapped into a tiny floater pak went screaming past him backwards in a line drive, trailing a spray of blood, to strike hard against the wall and explode with a sharp whuumpf as his fuel tanks went up.

  Forrester stood in the centre of the room, holding the M-16 like. a baseball bat and swatting at the Lilliputians as they buzzed around him like wasps around a nest, the criss-crossing beams of their tiny lasers creating a fine latticework of coherent light around him, making it appear as if he were trapped inside some glowing spider's web.

  "Moses, get down!"' Delaney shouted.

  Instantly, Forrester dropped to the floor and Delaney fired his gun. The full intensity plasma charge streaked across the room, incinerating the Lilliputians in its path, slamming into the floor to ceiling window on the far side of the room and melting right through it. Steiger made a running dive and landed right on top of Forrester, covering him with his body, but the remaining Lilliputians were in full retreat, swooping out the ruined window with their jets on full power and dispersing in the night like fireflies. Delaney ran over to the gaping hole, but he held his fire. There were people down there and he didn't want to risk hitting any innocent bystanders:"

  As he turned around, a squad of soldiers came running in, armed with laser rifles and autopulsers, all of which were suddenly pointed in his direction.

  "'Freeze! Drop the gun! Drop it right now!"

  Delaney rolled his eyes, dropped the pistol and raised his hands over his head.

  "'Don't shoot, I'm one of the good guys," he said.

  "On the floor! Flat on the floor right now!"

  "Well, now that isn't very smart," Delaney said. "I just dropped my gun down there. If I got down beside it, I could pick it up and shoot you, you damn fool."

  "I said get down-"

  "Harris, you idiot, put down those guns.!" Steiger shouted, as he got up off Forrester. "It's over!"

  "Colonel! I didn't realise-"

  "No, of course not!" Steiger said, furiously. "Congratulations, Harris.

  You've just disarmed and captured Capt. Finn D
elaney.”

  Harris paled. "Capt. Delaney! Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't recognise-"

  Forrester groaned and rolled over onto his back.

  "Oh, sweet Jesus Christ," said Steiger.

  Delaney was at his side in an instant. "Oh, God. Don't move, Moses,"

  Finn said. "Don't just stand there, somebody get a goddamn medic!"

  Forrester looked like he'd taken a nap on a barbecue grill. His face and skull were criss-crossed with blackened laser tracks, not bleeding because the heat had cauterised the wounds. There was a hole in his right cheek where a beam had gone in at an angle, exiting through the neck just below his jawbone. Part of an ear had been neatly sliced off. His fatigues looked like they'd been shredded in places and there were numerous pinholes in his shoulders and arms. Miraculously, none of the vital organs appeared to have been hit. He groaned again and tried to sit up.

  "Don't move, Moses, help's on the way," said Delaney. "Screw that," grunted Forrester. "Help me up."

  They gently pulled him up to a sitting position on the floor.

  "Anyone left alive?" he said.

  "I don't know," said Steiger. "Well, check, God damn it!"

  "Harris!" Steiger snapped.

  "Yes, sir!" Hams rapidly detailed several men. "You, you, and you, come with me, on the double!"

  "Somebody give me a cigarette," said Forrester, leaning against Delaney for support.

  Steiger got him one and put it between his lips, lighting it for him. Forrester inhaled deeply and then slowly blew the smoke out. The smoke coming out through the hole in his cheek was disconcerting.

  Harris came back into the room. His face was ashen.

  "They're dead, sir."

  Forrester looked stricken. "All of them?"

  "I'm afraid so, sir."

  "Where the hell were you?" said Steiger, his voice barely under control.

  "Sir, we responded the moment the alarm went off," said Harris, "but there was someone in the tube…" He broke off awkwardly when he realised that the someone he was referring to were Steiger and Delaney.

  “Yeah, that was us," Delaney said. "Don't blame Harris, Creed. They were incredibly fast. Whoever trained 'em certainly knew what he was doing.'" He glanced at Forrester. "Next time I warn you about keeping those antiques of yours, do me a favour. Kick me. But why the hell didn't you use a plasma gun?"

  Forrester grimaced and pointed at the gaping hole where the floor to ceiling window in the far wall of his penthouse used to be. "That's why," he said, wryly. "I don't see the point in shooting sparrows with a cannon. Besides, bullet holes are a lot easier to fix. Jesus, look at this place!"

  The medics arrived and pushed their way through. As they started administering first aid to Forrester, one of them turned to Steiger and said, "We've got to get him to a hospital right now"

  "I'm not going anywhere," Forrester began, but Steiger interrupted him.

  "The hell you're not," he said. "Doctor, are you willing to certify this man unfit for duty in his present condition?"

  "You'd better believe it," said the medic.

  "Right," said Steiger. "As of right now, I'm assuming command. "

  "The Hell you are!" thundered Forrester. "You've got a mission -

  " This is the mission," Steiger said. "In case it escaped your attention, those commandos who hit you were about six inches tall. And that means the Network is involved in this thing up to their necks. Either that or we're all trapped in a Walt Disney movie. Doctor, get the general to the hospital right away. Harris, take your detail and accompany them. You're not to leave the general's side for so much as a second, got me? If any medical personnel give you any grief about it, refer them to me. but he's not to be alone under any circumstances. you got that?"

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Is there a doctor over there that we can trust?" Steiger asked Delaney.

  "Capt. Hazen," said Delaney.

  "Yeah, I know her. I'll call her right away and explain the situation. Hams, nobody comes near the general unless Capt. Hazen says its okay.

  Nobody. That means no nurses administering pills or drip I. V. 's, no cafeteria workers bringing him his breakfast. no orderlies to prep him for an operation. nobody. Either Hazen clears it or they don't get near him. Understand? If anything happens to him, it's your ass."

  "I understand, sir.'"

  "God damn it, Steiger," Forrester began, but Steiger cut him off again.

  "I'm sorry, sir. My first responsibility- is seeing to your welfare."

  "Forget about my welfare. I'll be fine. You can't leave your team short-handed!"

  "They're not. They've got some very competent help."

  Chapter 7

  Hunter thought he might be able to break the wooden chair that he was tied to and work free of his bonds, but unfortunately, there were two problems with that idea.

  One was that the noise of the chair breaking would be certain to alert Vincent, with his hatchet face and his razor-sharp switchblade. And if Hunter managed to break the chair, it was doubtful that he'd have enough time to slip free of his bonds before Vincent came rushing in. The second problem was that the chair might not break on the first try, and one try was all that he'd have time for. If he tipped himself forward onto his tiptoes and then fell backwards hard, smashing the chair down, it would make a lot of noise even if it didn't break at once and he didn't think that Vincent would give him a second chance.

  Hunter wondered what in hell he had gotten himself into. Was Manelli a temporal agent? If so, then why hadn't he simply clocked his captive to the future for interrogation? And what was he doing posing as a 20th century Mafia don? Posing, hell. he was running one of the biggest Family operations on the entire East Coast!

  It didn’t make any sense. The T.I.A. didn't work that way. The only other possible explanation seemed to be that Manelli was in the Underground, but then he had said he wasn't. "No. Not exactly," was what he had said. Now what did that mean?

  Either he was or he wasn't. And why did he seem so interested in Hunter being a deserter, a conclusion be had incorrectly jumped to and one that Hunter had seen no reason to dissuade him from. The idea of Hunter being a deserter from the Temporal Corps had definitely appealed to Manelli. And that would have made sense if Manelli was in the

  Underground. But then be bad said he wasn't. "No. Not exactly. “ The response was maddening. Why the qualifier? It seemed to imply that be was either indirectly associated with the Underground.. or perhaps with some-thing like it. Only what?

  Hunter's mind kept going around in circles and he was getting nowhere. One thing was certain. He'd been careless and now he was in a lot of trouble. If he was going to attempt escape, he'd damn well better get it done soon, before Manelli returned with his silent, deadly looking friend in the violently flamboyant suit. The eyes on that man worried him. They weren't evil eyes, like Vincent's, nor were they expressionless, like the flat-dead stare of a psychotic. They were calm. Confident.

  Attentive. They were the eyes of a man who did not overreact or panic. The eyes of a pro. A pro with a warp disc. And, once again, that brought Hunter back to the

  T.I.A. and that made no sense whatsoever. Unless.

  The door behind him opened.

  "Well, well," said a deep, baritone voice. "Capt. Hunter.

  Imagine meeting you here. "

  Hunter looked up into the face of Nikolai Drakov and his heart sank. That's it, he thought. I'm dead.

  Finn Delaney remained long enough to make sure that Forrester had made it safely to the hospital and that Dr. Hazen was in attendance, with a sizeable force of heavily armed LS.O. men on the premises, then he checked out a floater pak and prepared to clock out to the past, to the co-ordinates that Gulliver had supplied them with. With Forrester out of commission, Steiger had to remain behind at headquarters and assume command.

  "It never should've happened," Steiger had said, after they had viewed the tapes taken from the disabled security system. They saw how the courier, "Stroud,"
had smuggled the Lilliput commandos right up to the penthouse security station in his briefcase and they saw how the attack had commenced, up to the moment that the miniature assassins had knocked out the

  security system. Steiger was disgusted. "That son of a bitch just walked right in."

  "Well, he did have proper credentials," said Delaney. "And no one ever expected him to be carrying an entire commando assault force in that briefcase."

  "That's precisely the point,” Steiger had said. "We should've been expecting it!

  We'd been warned! Christ, my own brother had been killed by those little bastards and I was still asleep at the wheel!"

  "You were clocked out on a mission, Creed-"

  "It doesn't, make any difference, dammit! I should've made sure my people were prepared! I was in command of the I.S.O.; it was my responsibility."

  "Don't be so hard on yourself. Creed," Delaney said. "What happened to Sandy wasn't your fault. Neither was what happened to the old man. There was no warning with Sandy, no way anybody could have known. And as for the old man, we were expecting the Network to make a try for him, not Nikolai Drakov."

  "Yeah, and that's another thing that's got me worried,"

  Steiger said. "You said you actually saw Drakov die."

  Delaney nodded. "Forrester shot him point blank with a plasma gun."

  "So how the hell can he still be alive?"

  Delaney shook his head. "Hell, I don't know, Creed. But Andre saw Lucas get killed right before her eyes and he's still alive. I'm not discounting anything. One way or another, I aim to find out the truth..

  "Well, while you're at it, keep this in mind," said Steiger. "The Network's got a contract out on Forrester. My brother was killed in what seemed to be a practice exercise for what just went down here. And we still don't know who 'Stroud' was.

  His credentials were good, which suggests the possibility that he was on the inside.

  If it turns out that Stroud was an agency mole for the Network, then assuming