Looking past the pilot, she peered through the windshield of the starboard strike pod.
“Bravo-One, Alpha-One,” she said across the strike team frequency, “confirm status.”
In the other pod, Sergeant Suleiman Chang glanced her way and lifted a closed fist. “Bravo Team ready.”
“Alpha Team ready.” She switched to the ship’s frequency. “Mother, Alpha-One. Strike team go for insertion.”
Thomas’s voice was in her ear. “Mother, roger. Go for insertion.”
A heartbeat later, Katja felt the g-forces as Rapier banked hard and accelerated toward the strike site. A digital countdown appeared on the console.
Three… two… one.
The strike pod catapulted clear of Rapier’s hull. Katja grunted as she was compressed in her seat. The retro-rockets fired immediately, robbing the pod of both its hypersonic speed and altitude. Tears welled up in her eyes as the deceleration forced her forward against her straps, but through the blur she saw the starboard pod mimicking her maneuver, just a second behind.
Then the pressure eased, and the craft landed with a jarring bump.
Katja slammed the control to swivel her chair around as the pod’s doors flew open and disgorged the first three troopers. A second later she was unstrapped and charging behind them.
2
Her helmet’s visor damped the glare of Sirius overhead as she ran down the ramp. Dust swirled on the rough ground from the pod’s vents bleeding off heat, but Katja easily recognized the off-white buildings of the farm’s central square. Residences and workshops, she recalled from the briefing, where most of the people would be at this time of day.
She saw three possible targets even before she reached the ground. Weapon raised automatically, she marched forward.
“Get down!” she commanded. “Get down on the ground!”
The first target—a man in his thirties, deeply tanned and powerfully built—raised his hands and dropped quickly to his knees, hooded eyes frozen in shock. Katja swung her weapon to take in two more targets—a pair of middle-aged women carrying plastic boxes—and repeated her order. They dropped their boxes and dove for the ground. Katja registered their screams, but focused on the snap as the second pod’s doors opened.
Four more troopers emerged.
She sidestepped the kneeling man, keeping her rifle trained on him as she scanned the narrow street between the buildings. A glance at her left forearm display confirmed that her troopers were fanning out into a perimeter around the strike pods. There were no other targets visible.
Slowly and deliberately winking her left eye, she brought up infrared in her visor, but it wasn’t much use in this heat. A longer left-wink deactivated the sensor. A right-wink brought up quantum-flux, which was more precise but shorter-ranged. It revealed the telltale outlines of organisms huddled in most of the nearby buildings, but nothing that appeared threatening.
There was no time to lose. If their objective was here, he wouldn’t be waiting around long enough to be found.
“This is Alpha-One—clear,” she said. “Sound off.”
The troopers reported clear in sequence. For now, the landing site was secure.
“This is Alpha-One,” she said. “Round up.”
She approached the kneeling man closest to her, rifle aimed at his chest. “Move there,” she ordered, gesturing with her rifle toward the strike pods.
He stared in shock.
She shuffled a step closer, staying beyond his reach and watching for any movement from the two women beyond him. She raised her weapon to point it at his face.
“Get up,” she said slowly, “or I blow your head off.”
He scrambled to his feet. Katja pointed toward the strike pods, where both pilots were organizing the various locals, having them lay facedown in rows. He nodded, holding up both palms as he stumbled away and dutifully lay down with the others.
The women needed no further convincing. Katja tracked them as they joined their comrades, then scanned the entire square. Within one hundred seconds of touchdown, the landing zone was secure.
“Mother, Alpha-One. Touchdown, ops green. Commencing search.”
“Mother, roger.”
It was reassuring to have Thomas’s voice in her ear, even if he was airborne at a thousand meters and travelling just under twice the speed of sound. Rapier, she knew, was circling back to maintain close air cover.
A quick count revealed seventeen detainees, yet there were supposed to be thirty people at the farm. That left thirteen unaccounted for.
“This is Alpha-One. Pair up and commence search.” She glanced down at her forearm display to confirm the designation of the building to her right, where quantum-flux revealed at least two targets. “Alpha-One takes building seven.”
“Bravo-One takes building two,” came the immediate response from Sergeant Chang.
Alpha-Three joined Katja. He was a big trooper named Hernandez, an experienced fast-attack striker whose main job was to make sure the officer didn’t get killed.
Building seven was a laboratory. It had no windows on this side and a single door. Katja confirmed her quantum-flux sighting, then hand-signaled to Hernandez.
I see. Two targets. Inside, left, down.
He nodded, watching for her attack instructions.
Buttonhook, I lead, she signaled.
His hand rose slightly, as if to protest, but he thought better of it and nodded. They closed in at the half-crouch, weapons up. Katja kept her quantum-flux on until they were at the door, then deactivated it. Multiple-sensory input could be disorienting in close combat.
She chopped downward with her fist, motioning the attack.
Hernandez reversed his rifle and slammed the butt into the door, blowing the thin plastic wide open. Katja wrapped around the left doorframe and swung her rifle through the room to fix upon two new targets—one man, one woman, stocky, tanned, middle-aged, lab coats—who cowered on their knees in the corner, half-hidden by an observation table. Hernandez was in behind her, covering the rest of the room.
The woman screamed as Katja closed in. Katja raised her rifle to eye level, barrel down to give her a clear line of sight. She wasn’t going to be fooled by the appearance of panic.
“Show me your hands!”
The man complied, raising one quivering hand, but the woman gripped his other one and sobbed. Still on the floor, they cowered back as Katja stepped closer.
Doubt struck her. During exercises back home, simulated targets either cooperated or fought immediately. It was hard to tell which way these targets were leaning. She was getting very hot in her suit, and she could sense Hernandez watching from behind.
“Show me your fucking hands!”
The man tried to comply, holding up his free hand higher, but his companion buried her face in his shoulder and gripped even tighter.
Katja activated her comms. “Alpha-One: warning shot.”
Her weapon snapped up to point at the wall above their heads. She squeezed the trigger. A single, teardrop-shaped explosive round raced down the electromagnetic rail inside the barrel. The wall exploded in a deafening shower of charred plastic and titanium.
She dropped the barrel back onto target. “Show me your hands. Last warning!”
With some effort, the man pulled his left hand free and held it up. The woman, still huddled against him, revealed her palms.
“Stand up!”
Both of them slid their backs up the buckled wall until they were more or less upright. Katja assessed their eyes, and did a fast inventory of any bulges in their pockets or objects on the ground.
A door hissed open behind her. She snapped into a crouch.
Another man in a lab coat stood in the doorway with a jar of liquid gripped in his hand. His eyes flicked between the two troopers, and she raised her rifle.
He threw the jar and tried to run.
His chest exploded. Blood and shattered bone sprayed through the doorway.
Katja realized
then that her finger had depressed the trigger of her rifle. She stared at the carnage, at her first real kill.
She saw a flicker of movement in her peripheral, and smashed the butt of her rifle into the man’s face. Her backswing smacked down the woman with a sickening crunch. Both targets collapsed in bloody heaps. Katja winked in quantum-flux and scanned through the walls.
“Quantum clear.”
Hernandez was also scanning. “Quantum clear.”
She activated comms. “This is Alpha-One. Shots fired, three targets neutralized. No threat. Bravo-One, over.”
“Bravo-One, roger.”
Katja looked down at her unconscious targets. There was blood everywhere. Her stomach tightened painfully as she fought down the urge to vomit. She forced herself to breathe deeply through her nose. It took a few moments, but her stomach settled and she was able to speak.
“Alpha-Three, DNA-check deceased target.”
“Roger.”
As Hernandez took a DNA sample of the bloody remains, Katja knelt down and did the same to the unconscious figures, her gloved hands struggling to hold the delicate instrument steady. A prick of skin from each was enough to reveal that neither of these was the individual she sought. Frowning, she quickly searched them for anything of interest.
Hernandez loomed behind her. “It isn’t our guy.”
“Neither are these two.” She stood, and motioned toward the inside door which had revealed the newcomer. “Continue clearing.”
* * *
It took four minutes to clear the rest of building seven, plus another three to clear building four—the medical clinic. Within ten minutes of touchdown, Katja and her troopers had reassembled at the strike pods. Twenty-seven detainees lay facedown on the ground.
Sergeant Chang and his search partner, Squad Leader McKevitt, had found a teacher and nine children in the school. Chang approached Katja as she surveyed the detainees.
“Including your three, that’s everybody, ma’am,” he announced. “We’re ready to DNA-check.”
Katja looked up at her second-in-command. He was tall and heavy-set, with thick, powerful limbs, a flat face and square jaw. Although his eyes were hidden behind his darkened visor, Katja knew that they were peering at her with bright, penetrating intelligence.
“Do the checks—but not on the children.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Chang barked instructions and under the cover of pointed rifles, three troopers began moving slowly along the lines of prone detainees. Each DNA check was quick and only briefly painful, and in just over a minute revealed the bad news.
Their target of interest—a Centauri spy who was selling weapons to the Cerberans—wasn’t among this crowd. Every DNA check revealed its subject as a descendant of the original ark ships that had colonized the system, two centuries ago.
Her mind raced as she tried to decide what to do next. Doubt led to frustration, which gnawed at her. She should have anticipated this, and already been thinking ahead.
Chang watched her. “Shall we do the children, too, ma’am?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Gently.”
She was thankful to Chang for providing her with a moment to think. No one actually thought that the spy was a child, but she needed to consider her options without appearing indecisive.
Intel had suggested where the weapons were hidden, but her main priority was to capture the Centauri agent. There were plenty of buildings to hide in, but with so few troopers it would take hours to search them, and leave too many opportunities for escape. Questioning the locals might provide information, but if these people were actively cooperating with the Centauris, they would lie through their teeth—unless properly motivated.
Pushing aside her uncertainty, she issued her orders.
“Bravo-One, we’ll start interrogating the detainees. Alpha-Two team, Bravo-Two team, start searching the greenhouses. Alpha-Three and Bravo-Three team up and give them a hand. Alpha-Two, you coordinate.”
The troopers moved to comply. Katja and Chang circled the detainees for a moment, then Katja pointed wordlessly at an older man. According to the briefing Cerberans revered their elders, and she figured this would have maximum impact. Chang grabbed him by the collar, hauled him to his feet, and gripped him tightly.
The man’s tanned skin was weathered and his posture stooped. His lean face sagged under a halo of white hair. Blue eyes of surprising brilliance stared up in fear. On Earth, Katja would have guessed him to be over a hundred, but life under Sirius was known to be hard. For all she knew, this wretch might not even be old enough to be her father.
She leaned in close. With her black, armored suit and visored helmet, the only human part of her that was visible was the bottom half of her face. She forced her lips into a smile—an alarming display of humanity in the midst of overwhelming technology.
“You understand me, don’t you?”
The man nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Thapa, ma’am.”
“Now we’re friends,” she said. “And friends help each other, don’t they Thapa?”
He stared at the ground.
“Don’t they, Thapa?”
He nodded.
“There’s a person on your farm that we need to talk to. I don’t know his or her name, but maybe you do. This person is from a place called Centauria. Do you know who I’m talking about?”
A voice sounded in Katja’s ear.
“This is Alpha-Three, suspect, greenhouse four.”
Chang answered immediately. “Bravo-One, roger. Interrogate.”
There was already someone present at the farm beyond what they’d expected. Excitement fluttered in her gut, but outwardly Katja’s expression and tone didn’t change. She leaned in toward her prisoner.
“Do you know who I’m talking about, Thapa?”
Thapa shook his head.
“I’m disappointed, Thapa,” she said. “I thought we were friends.”
“This is Alpha-Three, negative suspect.” False alarm. “Continuing search.”
“Bravo-One, roger.”
Katja’s excitement slid into frustration at the report of the false alarm. Time was short before news of the raid reached the local warlords; she needed to speed this up.
Her armored fist smashed into Thapa’s jaw, sending him staggering backward against Chang’s bulk. She grabbed the long strands of his hair and turned him so he could see the lines of prone detainees.
“Point at one of these people, Thapa,” she instructed him. “Any one will do.”
With a hand visibly shaking, Thapa indicated a man three people away.
Katja hefted her rifle, fighting down the inner qualms that threatened her conscience. “Tell me about the person from Centauria, Thapa, or I’ll shoot the man you just pointed at.”
Thapa swallowed, and spoke with a hoarse voice. “There is no one.”
Katja sighed, stirring up anger to gain strength. These people were rebelling against Terran authority, she reminded herself fiercely.
She motioned for Chang to bring Thapa closer. The trooper lifted him like a rag doll and carried him over, slamming him down next to Katja.
She moved in to whisper in his ear. “Don’t doubt me. You talk to me about the person from Centauria, or I start killing people.” She was close enough to smell his sweat, to feel his terror.
“This is Bravo-Two, suspect greenhouse one.”
“Bravo-One, roger. Interrogate.”
Katja stepped away from the old man, raising her voice for everyone to hear.
“There’s no point in protecting this criminal, Thapa. We will find him sooner or later, with or without your help. So the choice is yours, Thapa. Either you’re my friend—” She dropped her rifle to rest its muzzle against the head of the person Thapa had selected. “—or you’re this man’s executioner.”
Muffled sobs squeaked out from various detainees.
Thapa shook his head desperately. “Please, we are simp
le people. We know nothing!”
She felt the pressure of the trigger, heard the wet explosion at her feet, felt the blood and shards of skull bounce off her armored legs. Heard the screams all around her. Saw Thapa’s horror and rage.
“This is Bravo-Two! Target mobile, northbound from greenhouse one, high speed.”
“Bravo-One, roger. Prosecute.”
The distant zings of weapons firing pierced the air, followed very shortly by the thumps of exploding rounds.
“He’s in a damn speeder! Northbound and out of range.”
Katja stepped back from the prone locals, mind racing. She glanced down once at the dark, bloody crater where a man’s head used to be, and the terrified detainees on all sides.
She had to get out of there—she fought down both tears and nausea. Chasing the moving target offered the perfect excuse.
“All units, Alpha-One: break away, break away.”
Chang threw Thapa to the ground and moved to the ramp of his ship. Both pilots retreated into the pods and fired up the engines.
Katja switched freqs.
“Mother, Alpha-One. Target northbound from greenhouse one at high speed, request you prosecute. Strike team breaking away.”
“Mother, roger. Tally-ho.”
The first of the search teams sprinted into the drop zone just as the black shape of Rapier flashed by overhead. Seconds later, the air shook with a deafening sonic boom that rattled walls and toppled chairs. The detainees scrambled to cover their ears and protect their heads. Within moments Katja’s Alpha Team was assembled and climbing into the strike pod.
“We’ll pick him up,” she barked to Chang. “You return to Mother!”
Chang nodded. He stood at the bottom of the ramp, covering the detainees as his last two troopers hustled back from their pursuit.
Katja ran up into the pod and threw herself into her seat. The doors were closed and the ship lifting off even before she’d strapped in and spun her seat forward.
Airborne to clear the rooftops, the strike pod rocketed over the farm. Katja scanned ahead and immediately saw a plume of smoke from the road, not two kilometers distant. Rapier was already in her turn to conduct a follow-on attack, if necessary.
Virtues of War Page 2