A Tangled Road to Justice

by Olan Thorensen

  “No helping it,” said Millen. “I doubt they have a taste for anything except hiding or joining another group, but even if they don’t, we’ll have to move fast. We’ll head Ashraf’s way and try to intercept the western group. The next couple of blocks are storefronts, with few places to conceal ourselves while moving. When we’re halfway to Cedar Street, I’ll comm Ashraf to be on the alert that we’re in the neighborhood and trying to come up behind Cherkoff’s men on Cedar.”

  We’d left the assault rifles on both sides of the street, where we’d begun our final approach to Wakefield’s. For the move on the western group, we wouldn’t know the location of an encounter or the distance of the targets, so we trotted over to get the rifles, then slung the shotguns on our backs.

  At the corner of Flower and Toohey, Millen called for updates. “West and east. Any signs?”

  “Negative,” said Ashraf. “They seem to be continuing this way, though maybe slower. You might have spooked them a bit.”

  “Something here,” said a voice I recognized as David Ostell’s. “Eight or ten armed men reappeared and are running down Satoro Street. Can’t tell if they’re headed for the hovercraft or Wakefield’s.”

  “Sit tight, east,” replied Millen. “Ashraf, keep an eye and be ready to move. We’re coming your way.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Since we didn’t know the exact location of the men approaching Ashraf’s position, we split up. Millen continued on Toohey Street, and I took the parallel Pike Street two blocks south. It violated my disdain for Cherkoff’s men splitting their force, but our situation was different. We were already so outmanned, we needed to take some risks. Splitting up also gave us a better chance of locating the next group of Cherkoff’s men. To compensate for being out of line-of-sight, except at cross streets, Millen and I kept up a constant chatter. We didn’t know whether Ashraf’s man could keep surveillance or what the western group’s reaction had been to the Wakefield shooting. If they’d stopped or retreated to the hovercraft, we might miss them entirely. If they kept going, one of us should cross either in front of or behind them.

  We hustled more than I’d have preferred, so as not to miss them entirely. It almost cost us. A block and a half from Cedar, as I came up on Winzer Street, gunfire broke out to my north. The number of shots told me Millen had found the second group. When I reached Winzer, I peered around the corner. I could see flashes and men coming out of an alley just south of Millen’s position. Three men ran across Winzer.

  “Think I found them,” said Millen in a calm voice. “I guess we have them surrounded.”

  “Three of them crossed the street and went into the alley on your block,” I said. “Probably planning to get behind you—same as the ones at Wakefield’s. If you can keep the attention of the others, I’ll deal with those three.”

  I switched my rifle to full auto and sprayed the alley entrance and a parked car. Four to five Cherkoff men were hiding behind the vehicle and firing. One man dropped motionless, and a second man dragged a leg, as he crawled into the alley for cover.

  “Shit!” I said aloud. Half a magazine and only two hits. Return fire made me duck back around the corner. I could tell at least three, maybe all four were firing at me. Not good odds for exchanging fire. If they had any sense, they’d take turns firing, so at least one was always suppressing my options. I hoped they’d all fire at once, so there’d be gaps while they all reloaded or changed magazines at the same time.

  They didn’t cooperate. Every time I was about to fire around the corner, rounds would buzz by or chip away at the building’s brick corner.

  I keyed my comm and tapped in a connection. “Ashraf! It’s Cole. Millen’s got a problem. He’s on Toohey near Winzer and either needs help or will have to break off. I’m two blocks away. At least six or seven of Cherkoff’s men are in the alleys just south of Toohey and a few somewhere on Toohey. I’ll try to circle back to join up with Millen. See if your people can push out and make contact, but be careful.”

  “We’ve been listening in,” said Ashraf. “We started in your direction a few minutes ago. We’re just coming up on Cedar Street.”

  Thank you for not following instructions, I thought. The three team leaders had been told to hold their positions until Millen or I ordered otherwise. It was one of those times when doing the wrong thing was right. Now wasn’t the time for a discussion on tactical communications.

  I stuck my rifle around the corner and sprayed eight or ten rounds toward the alley entrance. Then, having showed I was still around, I turned and raced back to the next corner. It was a block and a half from the alley I’d seen the three men cross to. I changed to a full magazine as I ran, hugging shops and ready to dive through a door or a window if the three men jumped in front of me. I hoped their attention would be on Millen.

  I peered around a corner and down the alley. There was no sign of the three men, but a block away the other four had taken cover in the same alley I was in. Brief glimpses of two men firing toward Millen’s corner didn’t give me a shot. But where were the others?

  Suddenly, a man came through a shop’s back door in the alley in front of me. He yelled toward his compatriots on the other side of Winzer. “No sign of him. He must have run off. What about the other bastard?”

  “He might have left, too,” came in response. “He hasn’t fired in the last minute.”

  I aimed the rifle at the back of the man in front of me and lightly touched the trigger. The fraction of a second I hesitated lost the shot when he ducked into the building again.

  “Shit.” I knew better. My qualms about shooting an unsuspecting person in the back had no place in a gun battle, not when outnumbered by opponents who wouldn’t hesitate in the same conditions.

  I visualized what I knew of the situation. Cherkoff’s men were on Toohey Street, where Millen had been taking fire, and in the alley between Toohey and Numa. The men who’d run into the alley on Millen’s block must be either circling to get behind Millen or going in the back doors of the businesses fronting on Toohey. So where was Millen? They were still looking for him, so he wasn’t dead. I assumed he’d been too occupied with staying alive to comm me. I tapped in a code that applied a tingle to his wrist to let him know I was curious about what the hell was going on. A tingle came back. I was reassured, but it didn’t help me decide what to do next.

  Men looking for Millen could also stumble on me. I’d rather surprise them than be surprised, so I dashed across the alley and hugged the side wall of the first shop. I tensed, waiting for shouts or shots from the men down the alley. They hadn’t noticed me entering the same alley a block away. I crept along the wall to the door the man had exited. It was unlocked—lucky since I’d used my only breaching charge. I went inside, hoping they didn’t expect someone behind them.

  The inside was unlit. I quickly closed the door and moved to one side, while my eyes adjusted. All I could see were boxes and crates. A crack of light came from under another closed door. Faint voices came and went. Careful to avoid hitting or stepping on something I couldn’t see, I moved to put an ear to the door. That the voices weren’t whispering told me two things. One, that the men weren’t so close that they would automatically see me come through the door, at least not for a second or two—which could be an eternity in a firefight. Second, that they didn’t think Millen could hear them. I supposed a third option was that they were idiots for not being more cautious. I was all in favor of idiots, as long as they weren’t part of my team.

  I cracked the door slowly, waiting for the telltale creak to announce my presence. When no sound came, I thanked the shop owner for good construction or the frequent lubrication of hinges.

  It was a sporting goods store of sorts. Aisles ran to the storefront. Some items I didn’t immediately recognize, but those I did included sleeping bags, tents, and an impressive array of fishing gear.

  Fishing gear? I thought. Are there fish on Astrild? Haven’t seen them on menus. Maybe some local analogs? If it�
��s fish, the eco-conservationists must go apoplectic.

  Renewed voices supplanted my interest in fish. Now I could make out the words.

  “Forget it! I’m not stepping out in the street. He might be anywhere. If you want to find him so bad, you go first.”

  “Let me check with Vonda. See what he wants to do.” He paused. “Vonda, it’s Nixon. No sign of this one. How about the other one?”

  Nixon stopped talking, I assumed while listening to Vonda, who must have been in charge of this group.

  “Well, then, where are they? Have they scooted?”

  Listening again.

  “All right. I’ll tell the others.”

  “What did Vonda say?” asked a new voice.

  “He wants us to join back up with him. He still can’t raise Osterman. He’s told Cherkoff any element of surprise or shock is long gone and is advising they should withdraw to the hovercraft. Vonda’s worried that the six men left with it might get attacked.”

  I heard a snort. “Vonda’s a wuss. And why didn’t Cherkoff come with us, instead of staying with the hovercraft? It’s sitting in the middle of an open field. Who’s going to attack a 30-millimeter chain gun?”

  “What!!” I yelled.

  Okay. I didn’t actually yell, but I wanted to. Where did Cherkoff get a 30-millimeter chain gun, something you might find on warplanes or military vehicles? First an anti-air laser and now a chain gun. I would have to talk to Millen about the intelligence we had on Cherkoff, but at least we now had him located.

  I had been slowly edging closer to the front of the store. Through some fishing displays, I could see one of them move but not the other two.

  “You think Cherkoff’s gonna be pissed that we killed the woman?”

  Woman? What woman? I thought.

  “I think he’ll have more important things to be pissed about than some town bitch. Anyway, she shouldn’t have jumped out from behind a counter like she did. What were we supposed to do?”

  I glanced around. In my focus on keeping quiet and creeping closer to the three men, I’d missed the body ten meters away down an aisle to my left. I hadn’t met most of Justice’s citizens, but even if I’d met this woman, it was doubtful I would recognize her now. From what I could see, she’d taken several hits to the head and the chest. Only small sections of her blouse indicated it had once been white.

  If I’d had a clear angle, I’d have shot all three in the back with no qualms.

  “It’s Vonda again,” said the man using the comm. He listened. “Okay, Vonda says to get back to him via the alley. We’re heading back to the vehicles. Osterman’s still not answering, and Vonda thinks they got hit.”

  The three men might have been leery of going forward, but they had no problem retreating. No sooner did I hear their intention than two men stepped into the aisle I was crouching in. The first man blocked line of sight to the second man.

  I triggered a three-round burst at the first man, and he fell straight back. Unfortunately, he didn’t fall into the second man, who got off a shot before I cut him down. I wasn’t as lucky this time. The bullet hit me high in the right chest, next to the collarbone, instead of in soft tissue. I found myself staring at the ceiling, wondering if anything was broken and trying to regain my breath.

  I raised my head. The two men lay unmoving, though from my position I couldn’t see whether they were alive. Scrambling came from the front of the shop, followed by sounds of a door slamming open. A second later, a three-round burst came from the street. I could tell by the sound that it came from another M504 assault rifle. Millen.

  My wrist comm tingled. I keyed for speech but had no air to expel words.

  “Everett? You okay?”

  “Urg,” I replied, using the little air I’d managed to take in. I tried again. “Urga . . . uh . . . wait.” Breath came, first shallow, then deeper. On the fourth inhalation, I tried speaking again.

  “Got hit in the chest. Hurts like a mother. Two down in here. I think they’re dead.”

  “So’s the one that ran out. Be there in a second.”

  I managed to sit up and was trying to stand when Millen slid through the door. He knelt to one side, rifle panning around the room.

  “You’ve got to stop letting them shoot you,” said Millen. “They’re bound to get lucky and miss the suit.”

  “Good idea. I’ll try to remember.”

  “Hey, I thought you said they hit the suit? What’s the blood on your neck?”

  “Huh?” I reached for a sting I’d just noticed on the left side of my neck. My hand came back wet. Blood. “Damn. The guy here only got off one shot. Must have been back at Wakefield’s or when we first stumbled on this group.”

  “Doesn’t look serious. Gouged across the side of your neck. Another couple of centimeters and I’d have had to find another partner.”

  “Sorry about that. Wouldn’t want to put you out,” I said. “I’ll try to be more considerate in the future.”

  “You do that. Besides the inconvenience, I’m getting accustomed to having you around.”

  “Glad to hear it. Oh, by the way, a few tidbits of interesting information. One, Cherkoff is waiting at the hovercraft with six men. Two, the hovercraft has a 30-millimeter chain gun. If it had gotten into town, that gun would have chewed to pieces all three of the positions we stocked with locals.”

  “Shit! If we’d known Cherkoff was there, you and I could have ignored the other men and gone straight for him.”

  I didn’t comment on the wisdom of attacking over open ground an enemy with a 30-millimeter.

  “What’s happening?” came a voice out of one of the dead men’s comms.

  Millen lifted the wrist with the comm, tapped the response key, and answered. “Looks like there’s been a change in personnel. The men here should be listed as permanently inactive. I suggest you consider a change in careers or pursue the existing one someplace else on Astrild. If we ever see you again, it’ll be shoot on sight. We’ll give you five minutes to disappear before we come for you.”

  Millen shrugged. “Who knows? Might motivate one or two of them to move on.”

  I waved toward the woman’s body.

  Millen swiveled his head. “God damn it!”

  He picked up the arm again with the dead man’s wrist comm. “Forget what I just said! You’re all dead meat!”

  “One of them I know is wounded and four dead,” I said. “That leaves six.”

  “Five,” said Millen. “I popped one when he stuck his head out too far to get a look.”

  “We can’t catch those four if they leave the wounded one.”

  He shook his head. “We have the last group to worry about as the next priority.”

  “We can’t just let them get away,” I said heatedly. For the moment, all hesitation about shooting people had left me.

  He looked pensive, then brought his comm to his mouth.

  “Ashraf. Where are you?”

  “We’re on Cedar Street, just coming up on Toohey. What’s happening? We don’t hear firing anymore.”

  “Five of Cherkoff’s men may be coming right at you on Toohey. One of the men is wounded. If there’s a place with protection you can hide behind, get to it and keep an eye on the intersection. See if you can intercept them. Their friends killed a woman in a sporting goods store that sells lots of fishing gear. Be careful if you see them, but it’s free fire, and we’ll be right behind them.”

  Ashraf cursed over the comm, adding one word. “Bastards!”

  Millen looked at me. “Are you okay to move fast?”

  I finished struggling to my feet. I would have another mother of a bruise tomorrow, but the fact that I could get up and move both arms meant the collarbone wasn’t broken.

  Millen didn’t wait or offer assistance. I could keep up, or I couldn’t. We were only twenty meters from the sporting goods store when two rifles fired not many blocks away, followed by fire from an automatic rifle and a pistol. I had enough years of hearing all kin
ds of firearms to distinguish numbers and makes. The first two rifles were hunting types. The third was one of the innumerable copies of the venerable Kalashnikov. The latter was cheap to make, easy to maintain, and still recognizable several centuries after its heyday on Earth.

  One of the two hunting rifles and the Kalashnikov clone kept up a steady fire, as we covered most of a block and got close to the intersection.

  “Ashraf, talk to me,” called Millen on his comm. “We’re almost at the corner.”

  “They came around the corner right after your warning,” said Ashraf. “We fired and hit one of them. I think he’s dead. They dropped the wounded one, and he’s crawling across the street, trying to get out of the line of fire. The other three are inside the corner shop. Landa got hit. I don’t think serious, but he’s out of it for now.”

  Ashraf’s words had a tone of other information to follow, so we didn’t respond immediately.

  “I think Mary Chingelit may be dead. Shit. She was the only woman in our group. Four of our people are getting her and Landa to the hospital.”

  “Stay where you are, and keep them pinned down,” Millen said.

  Millen let his arm drop to his side, and he turned to me. “Rooting out the other three or worrying about the wounded one isn’t a priority. It’s more important that some eyewitnesses report back to Cherkoff. It needs to be clear to Cherkoff that locals are joining in. So I told Ashraf to stay put. That’ll give the Cherkoff men a chance to slip out the back.”

  I nodded. I’d cooled some, after leaving the dead woman. The four still alive from this group weren’t the ones who’d killed her, though I didn’t doubt they might have done the same if she’d inadvertently surprised them.

  Millen raised his comm again. “Ostell. What’s happening where you are?”

  “We’re pretty sure this bunch is heading back to the hovercraft on foot after we kept up a constant fire on the two trucks they came in. I’ve been listening in. Do you want us to follow? Are you going after them?”

  “No, we’re not, but your people should try to get a visual on them, so we’re sure they keep going. We’ve left three wounded Cherkoff men back at Wakefield’s. We told them to go back to the hovercraft, but if any of them are still at Wakefield’s, get them to the hospital. Pass it on to Jason—we’re not able to raise him by comm, for some reason.”