“There’s only one way to find out,” Shinoda said. “Let’s go see.”
The approaches to Gwalia were a sprawling master class in mindless devastation; the town itself was not much better.
“This’ll teach the bastards to fuck with us,” was all Shinoda said as they were waved through a DocSec security point without so much as a cursory ID check. They rolled on through the Grand Plaza. It was a rubble- and rubbish-strewn wasteland lit with clusters of arc lights. The temple to the might and power of the Hammer of Kraa had been reduced to a mound of debris, and everywhere emergency services teams were crawling over the ruins looking for survivors. Michael felt like cheering at the sight.
Just past the edge of the town, the mobibot came to a stop behind a line of mobibots drawn up at another DocSec checkpoint. The troopers were visible only as black cutouts against their mobibots’ headlights.
“Looking for looters?” Michael said.
“I reckon,” Shinoda said. “Some people can’t help themselves. Hey, what’s happening?”
“I don’t believe it,” Michael said.
Three DocSec troopers were laying into the occupants of the first bot with boots and truncheons. It was a merciless attack. Deep inside Michael something snapped. “Screw this,” he snarled. He reached for his rifle with his good arm and climbed out of the bot. He tucked the butt of the rifle under his armpit.
“Just try to stop me,” the sergeant replied.
Faces stared open-mouthed at the two blood-soaked apparitions. Michael and Shinoda walked down the line of bots to where the DocSec troopers were kicking the life out of the three people on the ground.
“Hey, assholes!” Michael shouted. He lifted the barrel of his rifle to cover the men.
The troopers stopped and looked around. “Who the fuck are you?” one of them snarled.
“We’re NRA,” Michael said, his voice flat, “and you’re dead.”
The troopers reached for their pistols. They were three seconds too slow. With clinical efficiency, Michael and Shinoda shot the men. The impact toppled the troopers away and onto their backs. Shinoda walked over. She took a pistol from a dead fist. She checked each man in turn and dispatched the two who were still alive with single shots to the head.
She stood back and spit on the ground. “DocSec scum,” she said flatly.
Michael turned. “Go,” he shouted at the line of bots. “You weren’t here, but never forget that the NRA is your best and only hope of destroying Doctrinal Security. Now go!”
For a moment nobody moved. Then, one after another, the bots accelerated away. Their occupants, wide- eyed with fear, stared back at the specters standing over the dead troopers.
Michael looked around once the last bot had disappeared. “Maybe this wasn’t the smartest thing we could have done,” he said. “What the hell do we do with this lot?”
“We’ll dump the bodies into their bot, then put it on auto and send it to McNair,” Shinoda said. “We’ll be long gone by the time anybody pulls it over.”
Ten backbreaking minutes later, the DocSec vehicle had been dispatched with its grisly load, though not before Michael had stripped the sunburst insignia from their collars, and they were on their way north to Martinsen.
Shinoda’s plan was simple. They would head for the hills, and if DocSec tried to arrest them, they’d blow them aside and keep going. That was one hell of a plan, Michael had said: short, sharp, and simple enough for even the dumbest marine. “That’d be you, sergeant,” he’d added, dodging a halfhearted kick from Shinoda.
The mobibot hummed on into the night. “You look like you’ve had it,” Shinoda said. “I’ll keep an eye on things.”
Michael wanted to argue but could not. He was utterly exhausted. “I’ll take over in two hours, sergeant,” he said.
“Roger that.”
Ten seconds later, Michael was asleep.
It would be a long time before Michael forgot the weeklong trek to safety: uphill and across rough country, with hours wasted dodging around Hammer positions or hiding from resupply convoys, foot patrols, and drones. To add to their misery, the rain set in early and heavy, and all the time his shoulder protested the abuse it was being given.
But they had made it, though Michael had no idea how. All he could remember of the last few days was a blur of pain, hunger, and exhaustion. Now he was content to sit back and nurse his shoulder-it had been cleaned, stitched, and bandaged, and the pain had subsided to a grumbling ache-as a battered buggy carried them through the tangled network of caves and tunnels that made up the NRA’s Velmar base.
“Kilo-5,” he said to Shinoda as the buggy slowed to a halt, its aged brakes screeching in protest. “This is us.”
“No doubt about it,” Shinoda said as they walked over. “I’d know that ugly scumsucker anywhere. Hey! Lance Corporal T’zavara, you useless maggot!” she shouted at the marine manning the security post.
The woman’s heavily bandaged head snapped around. Her mouth sagged open when she saw who was calling her. “Sergeant Shinoda!” she said. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“I’m sure you weren’t. Don’t you NRA types stand up in front of a senior officer?”
“Senior off-”
“This is Colonel Helfort,” Shinoda said.
“No, it’s not. Oh,
Michael put up his hand to stop the flow of words. “Shut up, Corporal.” He had to force himself to keep a straight face as T’zavara struggled to work out what was happening. “Now go tell your commanding officer that Colonel Helfort is here to see her,” he said.
“Hancock!” T’zavara said, turning to the marine beside her, “what are you waiting for? Go!”
“Yes, Corporal,” the man said before bolting down the passageway.
“What happened to your head?” Michael asked T’zavara while they waited.
“Shrapnel from a Hammer air burst, sir,” she replied. “Nothing serious.”
“The Amokran operation?”
“Yes, sir. It was a bitch.”
“Lot of casualties?”
“Too many, sir. But we gave those Hammer bastards one hell of a kicking. There were a lot of them, but … I don’t know, they didn’t fight hard.” She shook her head. “Not as hard as they used to.”
Shinoda put her mouth to Michael’s ear. “If you don’t ask her, I will, sir,” she whispered, “so get on with it.”
“Ah, right,” Michael mumbled, mortified that he had been so obvious. “Colonel Helfort,” he said. “Did she come through okay?”
“She did, sir. The Hammers sent a special forces unit to attack battalion headquarters. It was touch and go for a while, but we kicked them back to where they came from. Don’t think they’ll try that stunt again in a hurry.”
Sheer euphoria kicked Michael’s heart into overdrive. “Good to hear,” he said. “When-”
“Michael.”
