principal threat to the security of McNair even though there can be no doubt that the heretics are so seriously overextended that their defeat is only a matter of time.”
Michael smiled; he might have imagined it of course, but he was sure a narrowing of the anchor’s eyes had betrayed what she thought of that piece of Hammer self-delusion.
“Meanwhile,” the woman continued, “in other news, Doctrinal Security has reported the arrest of nine citizens; they have been convicted of spreading malicious rumors that our beloved Teacher of Worlds had been kidnapped by a Revivalist suicide squad. Doctrinal Security has told us that they will be sentenced tomorrow. According to our analysts, that crime carries the death penalty. In a holovid broadcast from his residence inside the High Temple complex, our beloved Teacher of Worlds confirmed that he is quite safe and well. He went on to say that all peoples of the Worlds should remain calm and follow the instructions of the temple Brethren. Now was not the time, Teacher Calverson stressed, for Kraa-fearing citizens to rise up against the heretics. The sacred task of defeating those who dared to attack the great city of McNair should be left to our heroic soldiers, marines, and spacers, men who will gladly give their lives to secure final victory. Teacher Calverson …”
Michael chuckled as Shinoda put her finger into her mouth and made a retching sound.
“… also expressed his absolute confidence in the leadership of Chief Councillor Polk and said that it was only a matter of time before the heretics would be destroyed and their souls condemned by the Word of Kraa to eternal damnation.
“However, a spokesman from the Office of the Chief Councillor told us that the situation at the High Temple complex was, and I quote, ‘unsatisfactory.’ Even when asked repeatedly what he meant by that, the spokesman refused to say. He said only that the authorities had asked that a Doctrinal Security team be allowed access to the complex to ensure the ongoing safety of the Teacher of Worlds but that Teacher Calverson had yet to respond to the request.
“In other developments, sources close to the councillor for internal security have confirmed that outbreaks of civil unrest have been reported right across the Hammer Worlds. We go now to our reporter on Faith.”
“Looks like Moore has pulled it off,” Michael said, switching the screen back to the tactical display.
“I’d say so, though Polk clearly smells a rat.”
“He does, but until he gets his hands on Calverson, there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.” He paused. “So,” he went on, “Kumasi. How do we get there?”
“Put the microdrone feed back up … Look at that,” Shinoda said. She pointed at the frenetic activity visible all across the logistics center. “We haven’t got a chance, and look outside the place. The Hammers know how important the place is, and it has the security to match. We wouldn’t even get close.”
“You’re right,” Michael said. “And they’ll be clearing the roads of all nonmilitary traffic, so we can’t make our own way there. I think we’re screwed, sergeant. If we hijacked a flier, we’d be shot down. It’s too far too walk, and I don’t fancy swimming upriver.”
The silence that followed was a long one, interrupted only by the arrival of Trooper Kleber, his always amiable visage split by a huge grin. “Corporal Bavalek’s found an old coffeebot that works, sir,” he said. “He’s cleaned it up, so we’ll have a brew for you any minute.”
“That man’s a hero,” Shinoda said.
“So what’s next, sir?” Kleber asked.
“No change,” Michael replied. “Remain here until the Hammers have been pushed back into the city, then go find our man.”
“Where is he now, sir?”
“Cooperbridge.”
“Be better to hit the bastard there, sir.”
Michael sighed. “That’s what we think, but we’re having trouble seeing how to get there.”
“Easy. Use the river.”
“Use the river?” Michael said, incredulous.
“Yes. UNMILCOMM uses it to ship anything that’s too big to go by road. Heavy equipment, tanks, missile batteries, replacement power plants, and so on.”
“But that’d be too slow, surely. Must take them days.”
“No, no. The barges are just big catamarans, but they do ten, maybe fifteen klicks an hour. Doesn’t sound like much, but that’ll get you to Paarl and Ahenkro Junction in under a day.”
“I’ll be damned,” Michael said, filled with sudden elation. “That still leaves us with the small problem of how we hitch a lift.”
“Well, there’s nothing I can do to help you there, sir …”
“… but Delabi might. Isn’t she from Nawadji?”
“Nawadji?’
“Suburb down by the docks. She-”
The concussion was savage, an ear-shattering blast that took the building and threw it side to side, knocking the three of them to the floor, ceiling tiles raining down on them, the air thick with the dirt and dust of decades. The impact was so powerful that Michael thought for a moment that the place might collapse. Coughing and sputtering, he staggered to his feet, wiping the muck out of his eyes and mouth. “What the hell was that?” he croaked.
Shinoda just shook her head. She could not speak. She stood there hacking and spitting as she tried to clear her throat and lungs.
Kleber dragged himself upright. Like Shinoda, he was doing his best to cough his lungs up. “Kraa!” he said. “That would have spoiled someone’s day.”
“Any idea what it was?” Michael croaked. He tried to get the microdrones back online. The datafeed was dead.
“I’ll go check,” Kleber said.
“I’ll go make sure the rest of the team is okay,” Shinoda said.
Kleber was back barely a minute later. “Looks like our guys took out the ordnance depot out at Sanz. It’s the only thing out there big enough to cause an explosion like that.”
Michael’s mind was racing. The blast would have caused chaos right across the city; DocSec and everyone else would have their hands full. They’d be too busy to worry about a bunch of marines. He took the risk and commed Shinoda.
“Now’s our chance to get down to Nawadji, sergeant.”
“I agree, but best you come to the ground level.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“You’ll see.”
Michael raced down the stairs two at a time. He burst out of the stairwell, skidding to a halt. He didn’t need Shinoda to tell him what had happened. One sniff did that. The air was thick with the metallic smell of fresh blood, the floor and walls drenched. “Oh, no,” he said at the awful sight.
Shinoda was crouched beside a body; it lay on its back with arms outstretched. It did not look right to Michael. An instant later he had worked out why. The head had vanished, and Michael reeled back before turning to spew up the contents of his stomach, heaving and retching until there was nothing left to bring up.
“Who was it?” he asked, wiping the bile from his lips.
“Corporal Bavalek. He was bringing us coffee.” Shinoda waved a hand at the shattered remnants of mugs, the brown of coffee splashed across the crimson horror spreading slowly across the floor. “I think a sheet of plasglass took him out. He never had a chance, poor bastard.”
“Go get the team ready to move. And see if Delabi can think of somebody who can get us on one of those barges.”
“I’ll get one of the guys to take care-”
“I’ll take care of it!” Michael’s voice slashed through the air. “Just do it, Sergeant Shinoda.”
Shinoda looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “We’ll be by the front door,” she said.
“I’ll be as fast as I can,” he said, already stripping off his combat fatigues down to his shorts. After a brief search, the best Michael could find was an old plasfiber box. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find something better, Corporal
