Dire Steps (21 page)

Dirt and dust plumed around the spike, her arms were hung up in the Scorpion's sling, and she looked up to see what was crushing her to the ground. Lola's face was right over hers, covered in grime and blood, her eyes and mouth both round.

“I think I stopped part of that,” she whispered, her head sagging onto Ayliss's shoulder.

Ayliss took the Banshee by her body armor and gently slid her off, fear mounting when she noticed how slack Lola's body had become. Struggling to free herself from the rifle, and then seeing the ugly holes blasted through Lola's armor. Dropping to her knees and holding the Banshee in her arms, she was surprised to feel breath on her cheek.

“I wasn't lying, back there.” Lola coughed, and blood flecked her lips. “I will die for you, Ayliss.”

Lola's eyes lost focus, and her body began heaving, her head bucking while Ayliss tried to keep her still. It subsided in moments, and when she laid Lola down, it was clear she was dead. A heavy aroma of explosive was all around them, and the scent fed her rage.

“I will kill for you, Lola,” she told the dead face. “I will kill them
all
.”

“F
uck! Did you see that? They just blasted Lott and Kersey's position! How did they spot them?”

Ayliss didn't recognize the voice, but a long, low rumble came to her ears from the other side of the mining station, and she had to assume it was one of the missile teams. Blocker came up on the net, confirming this.

“Stop talking! They're monitoring us!”

McRaney answered, mocking. “Why are you telling them to shut up? It's a very reasonable question, and I'll answer it for you. When we sold you those missiles, we attached tracking devices to them. They started operating the moment you tested the systems, and I have a fix on every one of your positions. See?”

A harsh double crack broke the air on top of the tunnel, followed by a loud boom that Ayliss felt through her boots. A plume of smoke billowed up from somewhere out on the mountain's top.

“They know where we are! They've known for hours! I'm getting out of here!”

“Everybody move to your alternate positions!” Blocker ordered, and Ayliss heard the sound of a truck engine behind his words. “Drop the missile you've turned on but take the other one with you!”

“And do what? They're gonna spot us the moment we put the thing in action!”

“Oh, I forgot to mention that I can turn on the locators myself,” McRaney commented. “If I were you, I'd drop every one of those and get away from them as fast as possible.”

Another pair of whipcracks, much louder now, and another deep blast from on top of the hill. Ayliss stood on tiptoe, straining to see through the grove of spikes, but it was no good. She did get a look at the hospital, just in time to see Birthmark and his buddy run out. They came sprinting down the road, terror on their faces, and she remembered Lola telling them to stay put.

Ayliss raised the Scorpion, sighting in on the lead runner. They'd left the one missile behind, and were covering the ground with amazing speed. She was just about to squeeze the trigger when an image of Lola, running down that same hardpack with the other missile, came to mind.

Turning from the cone, she ran toward the center of the mesa, somehow knowing that was where Lola had left the other launcher. Passing a dead body, a pirate in the headset rig who was facedown in the dirt, she practically tripped over Tin. The smaller Banshee was sitting with her back against one of the spikes, her legs stretched out before her and one of the enemy satchel charges in her hands. Her Scorpion was on the ground next to one of her legs, and glancing at the weapon caused Ayliss to notice the bloody field dressing wrapped around Tin's thigh.

“Hey, Ayliss. Thought I was alone up here. I think we got 'em all, but I figured there'd be more, so I picked this up.” Tin smiled warmly, patting the canvas bomb. “Only heard one of these go off, and there's been no yelling from below so I think they never even got near the entrances.”

“Buncha pussies. We tore them
up
, didn't we?”

“Yes we did. Can you imagine what we would have done if we'd had our suits?” Ayliss pictured the armored pressure suits the Banshees normally wore into battle. “The round that hit me would have just bounced off. I wouldn't even have felt it.”

A steady rumble reached them now, and they both looked at the crest of the mining station's hill. A shadow passed over the rim, something big blocking out the sun, then the circular edge of McRaney's ship appeared. Dirty brown and streaked with black from entering the planet's atmosphere, the saucer-­shaped vessel swiveled a twin-­barreled cannon toward the ridge.

“Tin, Lola brought one of the missiles up here with her. Where did she put it?”

“Lola's dead, isn't she?”

“I'm sorry, Tin. It was that satchel charge you heard. She died pulling me out of the way.”

“I didn't ask, because McRaney's listening . . . and because I didn't want to know. We were a supertight squad, Ayliss. You should have seen us out there, when we were really in the shit. One time, we hit this Sim supply dump, well it wasn't really a supply dump, it was kinda more like one of those . . .”

Ayliss squatted down, then slapped the blackened face. Tin's head snapped to the side and came back, blinking quickly. She raised a hand to her cheek and then grinned.

“Thank you, sister. I was drifting away there, wasn't I?”

“Tin, you're in shock, but I have to know where that missile is.”

The wind smacked them both, a sudden gust that disappeared inside the one-­two blasts of McRaney's forward cannon. The ground beneath them jumped, and voices began yelling on the net.

“We have to get out of here! They just blocked the entrance! The next one's going to bring the whole place down on us!”

“Stay where you are!” Hemsley bellowed, for the first time sounding excited. “You go out in the open, they'll run you down and kill you!”

A hand gripped Ayliss's arm, and Tin shouted, “There's a tiny clearing near the edge, right over there! Good firing position, that's where Lola left the launcher!”

Ayliss propped the Scorpion on the dirt and used it to help her stand. Before she could move, Tin called out to her.

“The moment you turn that on, they're gonna know where you are! Wait until they fire those guns again, then move really fast!”

Ayliss fixed her with a look of fearful resolve, then raced off through the cones. The open area Tin had described was only twenty yards away, but it was littered with broken rock thrown up by the last impact from the cannon. The missile was nowhere to be seen, and she began rushing desperately around each of the spikes, searching.

The world jumped and roared just then, tossing her a few inches in the air and dropping her roughly to the dirt. Ayliss's head spun with the concussion of the blast, then she was covering her head with her arms as rocks rained down on top of her and the boom of the guns passed over. When it ended, she looked up to see smoke rising from the center of the plateau, barely a hundred yards away.

“The roof's collapsing! They're going to bury us down here!”

“We're cut off! We're cut off! God help us, somebody come get us out of here!”

The cries from below drove her back to her feet, the Scorpion forgotten, and Ayliss tottered over to the nearest black cone. Debris was all around it, but then she saw the dark tube on its side. Leaning back against the spike, she picked up the launcher and tried to remember the sequence she'd been taught only the night before. Remembering Tin's words and stopping herself, dreading the next impact but knowing she had to endure it. Turning, shaking her head to clear the fog, and then shambling toward the cones on the edge of the plateau.

Seeing the brown ship fully now, brazenly sliding forward over the top of the station, two other cannon exposed on either side, ready to launch a salvo that was going to drop the entire ridge onto the ­people below her. Knowing she couldn't wait, putting the missile on her shoulder, blowing out hard breaths before taking in one last big one, and then hitting the button that would put the sights and the weapon itself into operation.

Nothing happened.

Astounded, she yanked the long tube off her shoulder and looked at the boxlike housing that held its electronics. Her jaw dropped when she saw the black fragment of rock buried in the weapon's guidance system. She could push that button until the end of time, and it would make no difference.

Exhausted, Ayliss sagged against the rock and let the useless weapon fall from her hands. Looking up to see the enormous brown disc, its horrible guns swiveling toward her, and making herself laugh just one more time.

Motion caught her eye at the building that had briefly been her home on this planet. A small figure that she knew was actually quite large, running out onto the balcony that wrapped the whole building, a length of pipe on his shoulder. It was hard to see him because of the ship's shadow, and she knew what was about to happen.

“Dom! Dom! It's going to
land on you
!”

“I sure hope so, Little Bear!” The words came out in gasps, Blocker obviously having run a great distance to get where he was. “Half these things didn't even
work
! Get your head down, darling!”

The missile fired, the blast of its superheated propellants darkening the white building behind Blocker. At such close range, the projectile impacted only a second later with a sharp crack that slapped her eardrums. The ugly brown disc shuddered all over, and the vibrations increased while its engines fought for control. It began to tilt toward the ground on one side, then its front started to rise, and the whole ship slid back toward the white building.

“No! No No! No!” Ayliss was shrieking and running, almost to the edge of the plateau, when the back of the craft contacted the side of the mountain. Metal screamed as the weight forced it to crumple, and it slipped even farther back and chopped into the structure.

It exploded in a fireball that lifted her like a small child being plucked up by a parent or a trusted guardian, and heaved her back among the rocks.

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I
n a large, circular room far beneath Unity Plaza, Reena was receiving reports related to the Step's suspension. The Sims had been uncharacteristically slow in responding to the absence of their opponents' biggest advantage, but now they were exploiting it. The room was two stories tall, with wide screens suspended from a gantry that ran all the way around its black walls. On the screens, Sim raiders were chasing human ships in several parts of the war zone and one colony was under attack.

“The cruiser
Persephone
was being slowly corralled by a squadron of Sim recon vessels, and her captain Emergency Stepped them out of it,” a Human Defense Force colonel explained while pointing at one of the monitors. “She's offered to defend her decision in front of a disciplinary board—­or in front of you. Those were her own words.”

In the time since Olech's disappearance, Reena had attained a mien that was almost robotic. Icily calm, she'd received the latest updates on the search for Olech's capsule—­all negative—­with the same equanimity as the news that the suspension would have to be lifted. Nodding to the colonel, she turned to Leeger.

“What will happen if I authorize emergency use of the Step?”

“Every local commander will use it to shift spacecraft as he or she sees fit. They'll come up with an excuse later. That's what I'd do.”

“All right.” Reena gave the colonel a brief, lifeless smile. “Thank you, that will be all.”

Once the man had moved off, Reena waved Leeger in closer. “I need to send a secure message to General Merkit in the construction zone.”

“Yes, Minister. And what are your plans regarding the Step?”

“I'm going to leave the suspension in place for a few more hours, to give Force commanders in the war zone time to plan. As long as we've created this situation, we should get something out of it. The Sims are already overextending themselves, and when the Step becomes available, we should be able to inflict some heavy damage.”

“And Merkit is going to coordinate this?”

“Yes.”

“It's not really his specialty, Minister.”

“Oh, but it is.”

F
ar away, in the part of space known as the construction zone, General Merkit strode down a wide corridor inside one of the region's largest space stations. Jointly owned by Zone Quest and the Human Defense Force, it had been visited by Olech Mortas before his ill-­fated journey to Celestia.

“Wait here,” Merkit ordered the twelve armed men who were his personal security detail. Olech himself had assigned them when he'd rotated the Force units defending the stations and factories of the construction zone. The leader of the detail, a hardened veteran of such assignments, positioned his men on either side of the passageway without a word. Initially skeptical of Merkit's survival instincts, he'd been astonished by the man's talent for sniffing out troublemakers among the corporate managers who were now his subordinates. Demotions and incarcerations had been handed out liberally, and the security man's instincts told him that the situation was in hand for the time being.

Merkit activated the palm-­reading lock on the hatch to his front, which opened without a sound. Everything on this station worked perfectly, and the environment was downright luxurious. This was the place where Chairman Mortas had discovered the senior-­most leaders of the Force in space, impossibly far from their commands in the war zone.

A beautiful brunette in a low-­cut dress looked up in surprise when Merkit passed through the opening, rising from behind an ornate reception station. “Excuse me, sir, but you aren't on the access roster for these spaces.”

“I'm the general in command of this entire zone. I'm not on the access roster because I can go anywhere I want. Where are Generals Leslie and Osamplo, as well as Admiral Futterman?”

Flustered, the woman led him through two more hatches and down three more corridors before reluctantly pointing toward yet another hatch. Replicas of gas lanterns adorned the walls on either side, and the entrance had been dressed up to look like the wooden door of an ancient public house.

“Thank you, I'll take it from here.” The woman was gone seconds later, and Merkit watched her flee. “All that, and the brains to know when to run off, too.”

The hatch parted to reveal an oval room with several tiers. Two bars faced each other on the first tier, and several tables with chairs populated the levels that ran down to a broad section in the middle. Just one of the bars was open, and the room had only three occupants other than the bartender. Seated at a table in the dead center of the floor, they wore the uniforms of two general officers and one admiral in the Human Defense Force. Open bottles were in front of them, and three half-­filled glasses.

“Merkit!” one of them, a general with rugged good looks who was just going gray, called out. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask why we hadn't rejoined our commands. You know, like Chairman Mortas told us.”

The other general, a blond man with a bit of a tummy, gave Merkit a dismissive look. “Don't worry about us. Everything is packed, and we'll be leaving as soon as someone reinstitutes the Step.”

The admiral, a much older man, ignored the new arrival completely.

“Gentlemen.” Merkit greeted them in a breezy fashion before calling out to the bartender. “Another glass, please.”

“Why you drinking with us, Merkit? Didn't you change sides?”

“I did. And that is exactly why I'm here.” The bartender, a young civilian who had obviously heard about Merkit's recent activities, quickly covered the distance to the table and delivered the glass. He was gone a moment later, and Merkit poured himself a small one.

“So what happened to you?” General Osamplo, the pudgy blond, pointed at Merkit's midsection. “Did Olech starve you until you agreed to work for him?”

“No, I lost the weight reorganizing a chewed-­up brigade on MC–1932. But you were all sitting out here when that happened, so I wouldn't expect you to know about it.”

“What the hell do you want?” demanded the admiral.

“I come with an offer.”

General Leslie's eyebrows rose. “Really? Last time we heard from the Chairman, he was yelling at the top of his lungs and not interested in our input at all.”

“No one's asking for your input. The Step suspension will be lifted in eight hours. As I'm sure you're well aware”—­Merkit gave a short laugh that might have been mistaken for a cough—­“the Sims are launching raids in several different parts of the war zone. Minister Mortas feels this is an excellent opportunity for you gentlemen to create a plan for cutting them off and destroying them the instant the Step is available.”

“You said this was an offer. What do we get for that?” General Osamplo leaned forward, his desires obvious.

“Oh, you can't stay here, if that's what you were hoping for. I'm sure you'll be able to use Force funds, and the always-­available support from the corporations, to arrange for a new headquarters just as cozy as this one. But let's face it, gentlemen; you can't command troops if you're not in the same time zone with them.

“No, what you'll get is a major victory on your records. And Minister Mortas has promised to sing your praises on the Bounce.” Merkit stood, his glass untouched. “Eight hours. Get to work, gentlemen. Kill the enemy. After all, it
is
your job.”

He was at the top tier when the admiral called to him. “Merkit, twice you referred to the Chairman as Minister Mortas. Care to explain that?”

“You've all heard the rumors, and they're true. The Chairman is missing, that's why the Step was suspended. His new wife is directing operations from Unity Plaza, with the full support of her brother and the combined leadership of all the settled planets. This is her idea, and it's a good one.”

He started for the door but stopped after a few paces. “I didn't care for Reena myself at first, largely because she kicked my ass in a very public fashion. She's a good ally, gentlemen—­and a dangerous opponent. You've got quite an opportunity here, so make the most of it.”