by Steve Perry
The target dome was small, no more than six meters in diameter, a camo-projector keeping it vaguely forest-colored. It was made of memory foam, probably weighed less than ten kilos, essentially half a bubble. It would be enough to keep heat or cold in or out if properly conditioned, protect occupants from rain or wind or sun, and once it was empty, activation of a simple vacuum canister the size of a small pail would suck it in for storage and transport.
Rama’s, of course, was thrice the size of the others.
Not that he was going to need it anymore.
“So, what?” Gunny said. “We gonna just waltz right in and kick in the door?”
“Nope. You and Gramps will create a diversion, loud enough to draw attention, and bright enough to screw up spookeyes. Kay and Wink and I will take out the guards, grab Indira, and meet Rags. Now that he has a scooter, he’ll haul her back to the hopper, we meet him there, and everybody goes home and lives happily ever after.”
Maybe. . .
“You think it’ll be that easy?” Gunny said.
“Why, of course. Isn’t it always?”
They all grinned at that.
Kay whickered.
~ * ~
Gunny looked at her chrono. “About time to get on it,” she said.
“Amazing. You can tell that by looking at that itty-bitty thing on your wrist? We use hourglasses where I come from.”
“I thought you were born before there was time.”
“That’s true. My sister invented it. Had a bunch of sand she needed to use.”
“Ah hope you don’t forget the plan between here and where you are supposed to go.”
“I’m sorry, who are you again? What are we talking about here?”
Gunny shook her head.
“I’ll take care of the sentry,” he said. “You just make sure you get the ammo bin lit properly.”
“Don’t you worry about me,” she said.
“I mean, once it starts, you need to leave, and not watch the pretty shiny sparks and all.”
“How did you get to be this old? Must have some bored god watchin’ out for you, Ah can’t imagine why somebody hasn’t kilt you yet.”
“They try. I’m tougher than I look.”
“Pretty much have to be, just to walk around.”
“Five minutes, on my mark.”
Gunny held a finger over her chronometer.
“And ... now.”
Gunny triggered her timer.
Gramps moved off.
~ * ~
Four minutes and forty seconds later:
“Heyho, Roscoe, howzu do’?”
The sentry frowned at Gramps. His transponder sig matched that of the sentry’s, but still: “What are you doing here?”
“Hawkeye sent me.”
“Who?”
“You know, Hawkeye, the new assistant brewmaster? They got in a shipment of that Hemani Rum, the good, high-proof stuff? I’m supposed to give the sentries each a little bottle. The bottles are shaped like little pistols.”
“Yeah? Where is it?”
“Right here, in my back pocket.”
Gramps drew his pistol, slowly, no sudden moves, that was the key. By the time the sentry registered that it wasn’t the small pistol-shaped bottle of liquor he was expecting to see but a real pistol, it was too late: Gramps shot him in the face.
The sentry spasmed and fell.
That was pretty clever, wasn’t it?
He toggled his com: “How come I don’t see you skulking toward the bin yet, Chocolatte?”
“Well, Ah could say it’s because it’s dark and you are old and half-blind, but the fact is, Ah am already in the bin, slow-eyes.”
“I knew that.”
“Hell you did. Hold on a second ...”
The door slid open, and Gunny ambled out of the bin. “Probably we want to be goin’, we need some distance, and slow as you are, we likely to get blown up, we don’t start now.”
“Yeah, well, behold my ass and elbows. Try and keep pace, Gunny.”
~ * ~
Jo glanced at her timer. “Fifteen seconds,” she said.
“Fifteen seconds,” Kay echoed.
There were three guards outside the target iglu, and nobody was going to do anything fancy, just dart them and hit the door, as soon as the—
—BOOM!
The explosion shook the ground like a mild earthquake, then there was a fireball rising behind them, casting long and flickery shadows ...
The guards turned to look at the flare, and Jo and Kay both shot before Wink could even squeeze his trigger—pap-pap-pap—and all three were down.
But as they ran toward the iglu’s door, a quad of soldiers came into view to their left, a hundred meters away, carbines held at low ready, jogging toward them.
Wink didn’t think it was a coincidence. Must be some kind of backup. Set to head for Indira if there was any kind of commotion.
“I got them,” Jo said. “Go get her.”
Kay and Wink kept going.
Jo sprinted inhumanly fast toward the approaching four soldiers—
~ * ~
Jo knew what field of fire these soldiers would try, and she was already angled out to make sure the ones on her left would get in the way of the ones on her right.
Her faked transponder sig wasn’t going to do the trick now—
She jinked and stutter-stepped, and was within twenty meters before the first shots in her direction, loud, dragon-tongued muzzle flashes.
She swung her own carbine around to cover them, triggered one long AP burst sweeping from left to right, then indexed the targets coming back from the opposite side, squeezing off three-round bursts, not looking to see whether she hit or not, just keeping her weapon moving—
—two of them were down from the first sweep, and she tapped the other two in just under a second on the return—
Too easy. Four up, four down—
Whups. Not done. Here came a second quad. And, look! a third—
She let go of the carbine, which wound up on its retractable sling and stuck to her chest. Banged her under the chin as it hit. Fucking piece of shit wasn’t supposed to do that—
She pulled two grenades from her belt, right, left, thumbed the caps off, and pressed the red buttons.
One ... two ... three ...
She threw the right one first, still running, then the left grenade.
The right one actually hit one of the soldiers square in the helmet, knocking him backward and ricocheting up two meters before it went off—
The second throw wasn’t as accurate, but it was still in the air three meters in front of the lead soldier when it exploded—
Her optic filters shielded, and when her vision cleared, she saw there were only two of the eight still standing.
Grenade shadow, the shrapnel stopped by their fellow soldiers.
No time to regrip her carbine, and a waste of time to draw her pistol—it was a darter and no good against the face shields and armor they wore, so she picked up her speed. Deep into oxygen debt, even with the enhanced hemoglobin, but fast was what she had to have—
They were dazed, but coming back online—
She barreled into the first one shoulder first and knocked him sprawling, leaped at the second as he swung his weapon around to bear—
Hit him with her hip in his midsection and knocked him down, too.
She rolled, pulled her knife, lifted the second one’s face shield, and stabbed him in the right eye.
The other one was on his hands and knees, trying to get up, and now she had time to get her carbine back in hand. She shot him in the back as he stood.
Twelve up. Twelve down. Now that was pretty good ...
~ * ~
Kay fired at the door’s jamb, tearing the foam away and making the lock useless. Wink was slow to catch up, and she was already through the door when he got there.
Inside, a quick glance showed an armed man holding a gun at a woman’s head.
“Stop, or I’ll—”
Kay fired her carbine and the round went into the man’s mouth. Blew the back of his head out as he spasmed away from his captive. Not as satisfying as a claw, but the best option.
“Wh-who are you?”
Wink came into the room. “That’s Kluthfem, but you can call her ‘Kay.’ Your father sent us to collect you.”
“Thank the gods!”
“You might spare a few prayers for Cutter Force Initiative, too,” Wink said. “We sometimes do the gods’ light fighting for them.
“Come on, we have to leave. We are about to be in the middle of a war zone.”
~ * ~
Cutter broke the connection with Jo. There was a shitload of chatter on all kinds of opchans, one more coded conversation wasn’t going to be noticed in time to do anything about it.
He commed the Thakore’s number.
“Yes?”
“This might be a really good time to throw a few rocks at Rama’s forces,” Cutter said. “Chances are you might get a jump on them.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Rama has gone to join his ancestors. He told his people to sit tight until he got back. They’ll fight if attacked, of course, but it might take ‘em a few seconds to get their shit together, and your odds are not going to get better. I’m pretty sure that Rajah Ramal is about to reconsider this war in a new light. I’d guess the terms will be a lot better for an armistice.”
“You found his daughter?”
“We did.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“And Rama is dead?”
“As deep vacuum.”
“Krishna and Shiva and Brahma be praised! I owe you a great debt, Colonel.”
“Think nothing of it. Just doing our job.”
Once the Thakore was off-line, Cutter sat alone in the dark on the scooter, waiting.
Reflecting on the new input he’d gotten from Jo.
~ * ~
Jo saw Rags standing next to the scooter right where he’d said he’d be. She and Indira arrived there.
“Colonel, this is Indira Ramal. This is Colonel Cutter.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” Rags said. “What say we take a little ride?” He nodded at the scooter. “We have a hopper waiting to take you back to your father.”
Indira said, “Is it true? That Rama was responsible for taking me?”
Cutter shrugged. “Evidence seems to point that way.”
She shook her head. “I cannot believe it. He—I never...” She trailed off. She looked as if she was about to cry.
Cutter and Jo exchanged quick glances.
“Best we get moving,” Cutter said. “We can sort everything out once we are back at your home.”
“I’ll collect the others and meet you at the rendezvous,” Jo said.
“Take care.”
“Always do.”
~ * ~
Jo jogged through the forest, fast enough to cover a lot of ground quickly, but slowly enough so she wouldn’t come across nervous shooters before her senses or transponder warned her.
Wink, Gramps, Gunny, Singh, and Kay had left the camp, and she’d intersect their paths shortly. With any luck, they’d avoid further contact with elements of either army, get to the hopper, and be on their way. Thirty minutes to Mumbaiian airspace, another hour to the Rajah’s, and they were done. The locals could blow each other to bits after that, with J-Corps watching and cheering. It wasn’t CFI’s affair. Not a done deal. Not time to relax yet.
Her strength reserves were still pretty good though she sucked down a bulb of electrolytes and carbohydrates as she moved. Good idea to charge your batteries when you could; never knew when you’d need the juice.
Not far now.
She got a hit on her transponder. Pulled up. Four of them. She took a deep breath, got ready ... ah, wait...
XTJC sigs. If they weren’t lying like she was.
She held her carbine ready, stopped, as the four ghosted into sight.
“Who goes there?” came the query. “As if I didn’t already know.”
Jo recognized the voice: Lieutenant Dodd.
Jo raised her carbine one-handed to point skyward. “Evening, Lieutenant.”
Dodd moved closer. “Kind of late to be out for a walk, isn’t it, Captain?”
“I have insomnia.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“Sergeant Hosep here with you?”
“No, the sergeant wanted to come, but he is back at the base.”
“Suffering for our little ruse, is he?”
“Yes, fem, and hating you all the more for it.”
Jo chuckled. “His own damn fault.”
“I know. Man is as tough as a boxcar full of boots but not the sharpest knife in the case.” She paused. “Well, we have to run. Apparently somebody is blowing things up in Rama Rajak’s encampment, and we need to go see if that’s appropriate and within the local rules of war and all. I’ll say hello for you if I see him.”
“Good luck with that part,” Jo said.
Dodd looked at her.
“I don’t think Rama is entertaining any more callers this evening.”
~ * ~
THIRTY-FIVE
Kay had the point and was out of sight.
Singh, just ahead and to her right, took the incoming round on his carbine, and while the round blew right through the gun’s action, the combination of that and his armor was enough to stop the bullet from getting through to his body.
At least enough so he didn’t fall down dead.
So much for the fake transponder sig.
Gunny didn’t have a shot—Singh was between her and the shooter, and she looked up to see two more Pahali soldiers in front of her she had to deal with, so she swung her carbine’s muzzle to the left and tapped the trigger, a pair of deuces for each—
Pap-pap! Pap-pap!
By the time she looked back, Singh had pulled his big knife. He charged the soldier who’d shot him.
Gunny flicked a glance at the third Pahali and saw he was fumbling with a magazine, trying to reload.
She had the shot now, but Singh was almost on top of the guy, his knife cocked, and Gunny could see that he’d get there in another heartbeat. It was gonna be tight, and even as she lined it up, she saw she would be a hair slow, Singh would be in the line of fire again ... was in it—
She eased off the trigger and lifted the muzzle, which was okay because—
Singh faked high, then skewered the guy in front of him, shoved his grandfather’s knife at an angle under the man’s armpit as he raised his arm to block, just over the top of his armor’s cutout.
The blade went in to the hilt—
The soldier dropped his useless carbine and reached for Singh’s knife with both hands
Didn’t expect to get stabbed out here, did you?
Singh twisted the blade as he pulled it out. He thrust-kicked the wounded soldier with the heel of his right boot, hit him in the low ribs, and knocked the man sprawling.
Gunny saw the blood pumping from the fallen man’s wound.
Hit an artery—
Singh kneeled and cut the man’s throat. Still on his knees, Singh did a quick snap down and to his right and slung blood from his blade. He resheathed it. He picked up the dying man’s weapon, took the magazine pouch from the man’s belt, and attached it to his own. He pulled a fresh magazine out of the pouch, locked it into the carbine, and thumbed the bolt release, chambering a round. He did a 360 sweep, looking for new targets. He pulled the gun’s muzzle up when he came to Gunny.
He did it all easily, matter-of-factly, as if it were a drill.
Gunny grinned. “Way to go, Singh.”
She waved the advance jive. He nodded.
They continued their run through the woods.
He was gonna be okay, the kid. That was a fine combat encounter, the knife, the gun, the reload and scan. If they made it back to the transport and got back to base ali
ve, it was gonna be a good story over drinks. And one Singh could tell to his kid someday when he passed the knife along to him or her.