by Linda Nagata
Chris breaks in. “I’m leasing a high-altitude aerial surveillance platform. We should have eyes in the sky in… another twenty, twenty-five minutes.”
“If this isn’t over by then,” Felice grumbles.
Lincoln meets her gaze in the rearview. “It might be,” he allows. “But let’s keep in mind that this is not the TEZ. Warlords don’t get to operate in the open any more than we do. My guess is, Rihab’s going to want to get out into the countryside, away from curious eyes.”
“How about robotics?” True asks. “Did the warrant let you bring any shooters? Or is it just surveillance?”
“We’ve got shooters,” Rohan says.
Felice interrupts, sounding disgusted. “We’re not supposed to use ’em unless the cops are standing by to give us an okay.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lincoln says. “We’ll use them if we have to and we’ll say we’re sorry later.”
“That’s been my strategy,” True says softly, a comment that earns a scathing glance from Lincoln. Point made, she thinks, before turning to look in back. “What kind of shooters?”
“A pair of starburst drones,” Rohan says. “And Roach.”
“Roach?” She can’t believe it. “Roach isn’t ready for deployment. It’s barely been tested.”
“Tamara has run hundreds of simulations on it,” Lincoln says irritably, like he’s argued the point too many times already. “It’s fine. And given the tiny size of this team, I want it along.”
“What have you got left?” Felice wants to know.
“One more beetle and the snake. You got any explosives? Kamikazes?”
Rohan snorts. “Not on the permitted list. Where’d you pick up the Triple-Y?”
“It’s his.”
“Huh. Well, that makes you the best-armed soldier here. You got ammo for it?”
“Not much. Just a partial magazine. I’ve got a pistol too.” She pulls it out, hands it to him. “A homegrown model that Shaw printed up. No reloads.”
He looks it over, checks the magazine. “Nine millimeter. We’re okay.”
True pockets the weapon again, wondering if it’s possible to pull this off, going in so lightly armed.
~~~
They leave the city behind. The signal from the mother’s helper leads them west along a good road, smoothly paved, that traverses open countryside. Traffic in both directions is light. Tall trees that might be eucalyptus stand alongside the highway. The pastures beyond look worn out this late in the year, though they’re still grazed by dirty brown sheep nuzzling for the last nubs of dry grass.
True has changed into adaptive camouflage trousers and swapped her street boots for the combat pair Lincoln brought along. She’s pulled a camouflage jacket on over her shirt, and a protective vest over that, also patterned in mixed-used adaptive camo. She’s got her camouflage skullcap ready in her pocket.
Now she’s eating a protein bar, watching the scenery slide past. It doesn’t seem real to her. The afternoon is so brilliant, so beautiful that it feels wrong, too much of a contrast to what she’s seen and done, and what’s to come.
Over and over, ugly memories surface in her mind: the centipede bracelet lying on the table, star fractures erupting in the windshield of the expeditionary truck, Guiying’s blasted corpse, Shaw’s horrific wound, and his agonized screams resounding through the riad.
The Rogue Lightning emblem.
His hired guns hadn’t worn it. She’d seen it used only to tag his killer mechs. The soldiers he trusted most.
Don’t think on it.
She strives to push away these thoughts and memories. No time for them now. Focus on the next phase of the mission.
But her mind turns to home instead. Not yet dawn there. She wonders if Alex is there, if they’ll ever be there together again or if he’s gone. After a time she opens her tablet and types a quick message to let him know she’s still alive: I’m with Lincoln now and this is almost over. I’ll call you when I can.
Before long, the land gets steeper. Huge, pale outcroppings of rock rise above the fields, and later, the asphalt road becomes an unpaved track that winds through austere, eroded hills. The dry hillsides support only a scattering of hardy dark-green shrubs. Taller trees grow below the road, marking the paths of trickling creeks.
Here, the signal from the mother’s helper becomes inconsistent, disappearing and reappearing as steep valleys shred the cell network, but it doesn’t matter too much. Chris is watching now from a high-altitude surveillance platform. There’s not much traffic, so he’s been able to visually pinpoint the target: a pale-colored SUV moving at a fast clip, a plume of dust trailing behind it.
Lincoln drives quickly too, passing sedans and slower trucks, gradually compressing the distance that separates them from Shaw.
She tells herself that he is still alive. He must be, because if he wasn’t, Rihab surely would have stopped somewhere on this lonely road to dump his body.
Light and Shadow
Chris speaks to the team over comms: “We’ve found your destination.”
He’s shifted QRF communications off the cell network; they’re relaying now through the UAV. “About seven klicks out there’s a house situated on a flat below the road, close to a stream. Hills are steep on either side, no other structures anywhere near, and we can see a starburst copter patrolling in the ravine. Plus there’s a big anti-surveillance canopy rigged beside the house.”
True puts out a hand to brace herself against the dash as Lincoln brakes, cutting their speed by two thirds.
Chris says, “The building is a plain rectangular structure. One additional vehicle visible. No people, but we have to assume they’re there, under the canopy or in the house. Could be more vehicles too.”
So there’s no way to know how many enemy they’re facing.
He sends a screenshot. True studies it on her tablet. Between the road and the flat where the house sits, there’s a rugged, brush-covered slope with an outcropping of rocks in the lower half. A steep lane descends across the slope, angling down to the house, which is roofed with photovoltaic tiles.
Lincoln leans over. Anticipating that he wants to look, she holds the tablet out for him to see. A simple gesture reflecting the smooth way they’ve worked together in the past, and poignant to her for the broken trust that now lies between them.
Lincoln straightens up. He’s driving even more slowly now. “Let’s keep in mind,” he says, “our goal is to recover Shaw. If we can do that by obtaining a surrender from Al-Furat, all well and good. But our warrant authorizes use of force against armed resistance—and that’s how I expect it to go.”
True thinks back to the two soldiers she left in restraints at the riad. She got lucky there. It’s going to be different this time.
“Movement at the house,” Chris says. “Two individuals in sight. Armed with assault rifles, on foot, moving quickly. Okay. They’re heading up the access lane to the road, in plain sight.”
“They want to make sure Rihab doesn’t miss the turn,” Felice says.
Rohan snorts in amusement as Chris continues his report. “Confirming that at least one of the assault rifles they’re carrying has a grenade launcher. My guess—Rihab knows there’s a car on the road behind him. He’ll post these two soldiers along the road to watch for it, make sure it’s no threat. Lincoln, if you don’t want to put them on alert, you’re going to have to drive a few klicks past. Then backtrack. Come back down the ravine on foot.”
“I don’t want to sit here in the backseat while we drive past a fucking grenade launcher,” Rohan growls, his humor gone.
True adds her own objection. “It’ll take too long, anyway. This could be over for Shaw before we get back.”
Lincoln catches her by surprise when he says, “Agreed.” Afternoon light lances through the branches of a spindly tree leaning over the road, casting mottled patterns on his scars, making his expression harder than ever to read. “Chris is right, too. Rihab has to be aware someone
’s behind him.”
Chris breaks in with an update. “Here we go, folks… Rihab has turned off into the lane that angles down to the house… and his vehicle has stopped… Okay, we’ve got a little chat going on with the two on foot… and Rihab is now continuing down to the house while the two are heading up. My, these boys are in a hurry.”
“So we get to play recon?” Felice asks. “Ambush the ambush?”
“Negative,” Lincoln says. “Not right away. They need to see this truck drive past and know it’s no threat. Khalid, Miles, that’s going to be your task. I want them to believe that no one has followed them out of Rabat, that they’re out here alone, that no one is interested in what they’re doing. So you two will stay with the truck and keep on driving, like you’ve got your own destination. The rest of us will exit early. We’ll use the ravine to approach the house from this side.”
There is a rustle of activity as everyone gets ready. True grabs her pack, shrugs it on. Checks the load on the Triple-Y. Her heart is racing in anticipation and she isn’t tired anymore, not deep down where it counts.
Lincoln summarizes the challenge. “Our goal is to take Shaw alive. Our best chance to do that is to get in close, then hit hard and fast, take them out before they can take out Shaw.”
“Lethal force?” Rohan wants to know.
“As needed—and I’m anticipating the need. Officially we are obligated to evaluate any offer on their part to surrender, but until we have control, don’t waste time on it.”
Chris breaks in: “Update on our road warriors. They’re in separate positions, about ninety meters to either side of the start of the lane, hiding in weeds above the road.”
He sends True a picture with their positions highlighted. She shows it to Lincoln. “There’s a spine of rocks running down into the ravine right here,” she says, pointing to the feature. “Call it a hundred thirty meters below the house. That’ll hide us from the first road warrior as we come up the ravine. But we’re going to be vulnerable to the sentinel drone.”
“Roger,” Lincoln says, returning his gaze to the road. “Chris, register the road warriors as targets and take them out with the copters as soon as the shooting starts.”
“Roger that. I’ve got it on the task list.”
“I want a best route, one that will let us exit the truck unobserved, three or four hundred meters from the house, and then drop down toward the stream using available cover.”
“Tamara’s looking at it.”
Lincoln’s voice shifts to a more casual tone. “We’re still a few kilometers out so I’m going to take a piss break.” There’s no traffic anywhere behind them, but he pulls half off the road anyway. “Just me and Khalid. Everyone else stay in your seat and out of sight.”
He’s not wearing his adaptive camo yet, and Khalid too is dressed in civilian clothes. True watches as they walk together to the back of the truck. They really do stop to piss. Then Lincoln opens the back hatch. The starburst copters are already out of their cases, each with a rifle barrel mounted under the central pod. Working quickly, he and Khalid unlock the arms and rotate them so they’re parallel, compacting the copters and making them easier to carry.
“Miles, I need you to do a job for me,” Lincoln says. “It’s not going to involve any direct combat.”
Miles is turned half around, his elbow over the seatback. “Let’s hear it.”
“You get to deploy Roach. But you’re going to have to do it fast. No margin for error.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lincoln details exactly what he wants Miles to do.
No one questions their authority to act. Away from the oversight of the police, it’s as if they’ve become a sovereign agency, making their own rules.
~~~
Khalid is behind the wheel when they start again. Lincoln is in the backseat, getting into his camo. Felice and Rohan are already appareled, hoods on and only their eyes showing. True rolls her own hood down, fitting the mask carefully to her face, before putting her MARC visor back on.
Miles rides in the cargo area, holding down the hatch. Tinted windows help hide him from outside observation. Trees and brush, along with a slight bend in the road just before the start of the lane, will take the truck briefly out of view of the watching soldiers. That’s when Miles will open the hatch, just far enough to kick Roach out. Ninety pounds of steel, titanium, and ammunition tumbling down onto the dirt road. When the truck drives back into view of the enemy, the hatch will be closed again.
Chris speaks over comms: “Okay, we’ve got a best route. You’ll be able to exit the truck unobserved, six hundred meters below the house. A stand of trees will cover your descent into the ravine.”
True studies the route map, overlaid on an aerial photo. She commits terrain details to memory, noting the many curves of the road, the varying cover, and the rugged, rocky slope above the flat. It comes to her that there is a better way to do this.
There’s no time for hesitation. Chris will give the order soon to go. So she turns to Lincoln—only to be distracted for a moment by what she sees. Light and shadow flickering across the three figures in the backseat has coaxed complex patterns from the basic dry-forest weave of their adaptive camo. The effect breaks up and blends the outlines of their bodies, even against the solid, artificial background of the seat.
True fixes her gaze on Lincoln’s eyes—his good eye and the empty black pupil of his artificial eye—visible past the screen of his MARC visor. She speaks swiftly. “I want to modify the plan, take my own route down so we can come at them from two sides. I can exit after Roach. That puts me on the slope right above the target, midway between the two road warriors. There’s good cover in those rocks above the flat. I’ll make my way down to them. That’ll get me an early look under the canopy. And I’ll be in position to use the Triple-Y, offer some crossfire, take out the road warriors if it comes to it, be there for backup if something goes wrong with Roach.”
Lincoln’s eyes narrow. “You don’t have ammunition for that, and I don’t want you out there on your own.”
“I can go with her,” Rohan says.
“Negative. We’re going to have a narrow window to deploy the starbursts. It’s going to take two to do that, and one for cover fire if the sentinel drone finds us first.”
“I won’t be on my own,” True says. “I’ll be behind Roach, and it’s capable of a better rate of fire than Rohan’s pistol.”
“Hey.”
“Truth, son. And if Roach works like it’s supposed to, the rest of us might not even have to fire a shot.”
“Tamara’s plotted a viable route for her,” Chris says. “If you want to do it.”
Lincoln gives her a withering look, but it’ll be tactically valuable if she can get in position down among the rocks. “All right,” he concedes. “Don’t make me regret this.”
True nods and turns around.
“Get ready,” Chris warns. “We’re coming up on the first drop site. Lincoln, Felice, Rohan. Your route will display in your visors once you’re on the ground. Khalid, the drop is marked on your visor.”
“I see it.”
“Ease it down to a crawl. Stop just long enough for the team to clear.”
The truck rolls beneath the swaying branches of a small grove of rough-barked trees, the glare on the windshield winks out, and Chris says, “Go now.”
Lincoln, Felice, and Rohan bail out the back doors, taking the starburst copters with them. Khalid slowly accelerates and sunlight flashes into the cab again. True looks back, watching as the team enters the trees below the road. Already they’re difficult to see as their camo reacts to the hard shadows cast by the afternoon light. The truck rounds a bend and they’re out of sight.
Miles is alone in the back now. He’s wearing sunglasses, not an AR visor, but hooked over his ear is a TINSL linked into comms.
“You’re next, Miles,” Chris says. “Get ready to give Roach the boot.”
“On your order,” he answers.<
br />
True looks ahead as sunlight strobes through the branches. She seeks out the place where she thinks the first road warrior is hidden, still a couple hundred meters away. Beyond that, she can see the road winding away along the hillsides, but she can’t see the house down in the ravine. She’ll see it soon. She’s ready to go. Her hand shakes just a little as she holds it poised above the door release.
Chris says, “Khalid, I want you to keep the truck moving slow and steady when it comes time for True to get out. Don’t stop or you’re going to make yourself a target.”
“How well can you see them?” Khalid wants to know. “Can you tell if they’re getting ready to take a shot?”
“They’re both casual,” Chris says in a soothing tone. “Just watching. Not expecting trouble. And the truck is armored.”
“Roger that.”
Chris continues his instructions. “Once True is out, gradually pick up your speed and continue at least five klicks down the road. Then stand by and wait for further instruction.”
“Yes, sir.” The sunlight flickers as Khalid looks at True. “Hey, you want to trade places?”
It’s a joke, but not a joke. She understands. Khalid is a decoy, a rolling target. Vulnerable, but out of the action. “I won’t give you away,” she promises him.
“We are going to pull this off,” Chris insists. “But timing matters, so let’s focus.”
True looks ahead, eyeing the slope above the road, the tangle of dry brush and tree shadows, trying to pick out the point where the first road warrior is hidden. Failing. She tells Khalid, “Be ready to drop the back window so I can return fire if it comes to that.”
He nods. His hand slides to the control pad on the armrest.
“Only on my word,” Chris says.
They all go silent. There’s just the noise of the truck as it jounces and rocks on the dust-dry road.