Weber advised, "Use your call-signs, Delta Four."
"Fine!" Firenze agreed, he but pushed on, "Sir, you've got something really nasty coming your way - check vidlink! They're closing fast, heavy armor, energy weapons!"
Weber replied, unnaturally calm, "Roger. Thank you."
Beside him, he heard Kawalski start to bark orders. She was going to try and intercept. She'd never get there in time.
She snapped, "Reaper! Stay on Princess, hold this point!"
"Dag, I can-" Hill protested.
"Fuck that! Hold the point! Everyone else, on me!" She commanded.
Firenze heard running, but he couldn't turn from the cameras.
Beside him, he heard Hill ask, "What kind of firepower you seeing, Princess?"
Firenze piped the feed to the soldier's goggles, and he heard the sudden snap of breath. Hill keyed his radio, frantic, and barked, "Dag! Weo! They've got a century laser!"
His warning came too late.
The heaviest combatant cleared the corner. It loped into silhouette, planted one armored boot, and pivoted to face the combined fire of Weber's squad.
Delta team fired. Eight soldiers, from perfect ambush angles, poured their fury upon the armored titan. Bullets glanced from the silver shell, shattered and bounced like sparks from concrete. A rifle grenade struck its chest-plate and detonated-
It stepped through the haze, unmarred.
Without emotion, without bravado, it raised its heavy laser.
Firenze's camera blanked, its sensor burnt by the flash of the beam. He couldn't see, but he could hear. There came a crackle-snap, like lightning and a car-crash. Thunder roared. Howls of superheated metal and boiling meat followed.
Firenze felt his fingers go numb, clutched about his computer.
The radio crackled, and Weber's voice cut through the din, "Delta Four, this is Delta Two-Six!" Something burst, rained around the radio like meat poured from a second-story window. Weber screamed, "Dag! Get your people out! Fall back!"
Firenze tried to find another camera, but all were black.
Kawalski's reply was near-desperate. She cried, "Sir, we can reinforce your position!"
"Negative! Fall back and secure-" The transmission cut with a sickening hiss-pop.
Firenze lifted his goggles, unable to stare at the black display any longer.
Hill stared at him, his face ashen, his hands clutched tight about his gun. At the end of the hall, Kawalski stood frozen in the door, swaying like a reed in the wind, torn between honor and duty.
Firenze scrambled after her and begged, "You can't do anything!"
"They're dying-" She snapped back.
"To protect us."
"You." She accused, her eyes like a dagger. "To protect you."
"The net's gone!" He cried. "We've got to get out of here!"
"They're-"
Hill stepped forward. He spoke, his voice a near whisper, "He's right, Dag. The mission's gone. Extract the team."
Kawalski wavered, once more, her eyes unfocused. She turned from one soldier to another, as if counting their lives against an unseen abacus. With every twitch of her sharp face, Firenze could read the passion play. She wanted to go down that hall. Every ounce of her begged it.
Her glare broke, and she spat, "Fuck!"
Hill nodded. He clapped her twice on the shoulder, like a mourner at a funeral, consoling the family of the departed.
Kawalski gave him a half-nod and a slow blink. For her, that was all but a wail. Then she was all business, once more. She barked, "We're falling back! Princess! Get me a map to the evac-"
As one, their radios squelched, and Colonel Halstead's voice broke through. He said, "Attention, all units; this is Alpha Six. Evacuate immediately. Abort all missions and evacuate."
The computer chimed an emergency tone. A pleasant voice intoned, "Attention, all passengers and crew. This is an evacuation order. Please remain calm as you proceed to your assigned departure points." The computer's voice was as calm as if it were discussing tea.
Kawalski looked like she might vomit onto her boots.
Firenze had the map up, highlighted the nearest lifeboats across the midship. He sent it down the link. She took it, and there might have been gratitude in her nod. Any goal was better than none. She tapped her tablet twice, called up the floorplan, and designated a boat, one deck up, just past the clinic. She ordered, "We take that one. Secure it and hold. Clear?"
One of the soldiers - Hayes - raised a question, "That's a civie deck, Dag."
Kawalski nodded.
"Gonna be crowded." Hayes finished.
"More chance to save people." She replied. "First to fight."
That brought nods and a half-murmured chorus, "Last to quit."
They took the ladderwell at a sprint, cleared through the steel coffin gangway without contact. Gurian made short work of the door, and they burst into the promenade.
Escape from the sterile, conduit-choked halls of the server section washed over Firenze like fresh air. Even second-class cabins were a world apart from the girder, bulkheads, and right-angles they'd fled. Here, the walls formed gentle curves, like the contours a sea-shell. The partitions grew like coral arches, the straightaways gleamed from all-wall holodisplays. Every junction carried a theme, complete with fountains, garden-beds, and oculus domes. Even the carpet was pristine, royal blue against the golden walls.
Firenze might have felt some relief, but it was not shared. Kawalski grew ever-more agitated. Hill spun through his rear-guard sweeps with unmasked anxiety.
It took Firenze a moment to puzzle it out - the corridor was too silent. Every door was closed, and there was no sign of movement. This wasn't a hallway - it was a tomb.
They posted up at the lifeboat hatch, a hundred meters back from the mouth of the aft park-dome, tucked between the swells of the rolling walls. Kawalski's orders were clear, "Hold this point until we can't. We don't launch half-full. Princess! Get back in the net."
Firenze cut his way into the access panel, clipped his working-cable into the network.
The Phalanx must have detected this intrusion, because the first response he got was a worm-injection. He spoofed the half-hearted attempt, bypassed the segmentation, and spiked the central network with a logic-bomb. The Phalanx's responses were perfunctory, stymied by failing systems and absentee masters, and Firenze had little trouble grabbing camera access.
TACNET was darker than before. There wasn't a team standing between
