“Major?”
She squinted at him, a little man with a deadly laser. Not that he was so small really, just that all her life she’d been bigger, larger than practically everyone. Sometimes she found it annoying; mostly it proved useful for intimidation purposes.
“They will be wary,” the sergeant said. “They might shoot first.”
Major Orlov bit back the retort that maybe it would be just as well if they did shoot.
Deep-Core took orders straight from the SU Directorate and no other. Neither the Army nor the PHC nor the Political Action Committee had any authority over them. To ensure Deep-Core’s independence and protection from terrorists they had their own police units and security directives. Some called them a state within a state. The practically limitless energy that came from this advanced technology and the awful risks it entailed demanded such a condition. Deep-Core Security guarded the emergency elevator on Level Forty that sank far into the Earth. The Regular Army had demanded reinforcements from them. The answer, as always, had been, “Don’t be absurd.”
After a brisk walk, Major Orlov rounded the last corner and marched toward the entrance of a low-built building that looked just like the others in this district. A spacious plaza fronted the glass entrance, not for gracious living, but to provide a wide field of fire. The building looked like a bank, but that was illusion. It would be a vault over a vault, in other words, a well-constructed fortress. Apple trees rustled along the brick-laid plaza, while soft music played overhead. The war hadn’t yet reached here, although a bloodstain here and there showed where Security had slain refugees foolish enough to head here for safety. And of course, Security had quickly removed the bodies, undoubtedly dropping the corpses down the chute to the core waste dump.
Major Orlov knew weapons tracked her. Security operatives watched their every move. It made her back itch, and she wondered if they would simply cut her down without a warning. The farther she walked, the more certain she became they waited until none of them could get away before they opened fire. Her belly muscles clenched and her mouth grew drier. It became agony to take another step.
“Halt!” rumbled a command, as if out of the very air.
Major Orlov almost collapsed right there. She froze in the middle of the plaza and waited. The short hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Her red-suited zombies halted behind her, their programmed eyes absorbing every detail. She vaguely wondered if being so near to death heightened one’s senses. Did knowing that she would soon not-be make her want to live these last few hours with all the zest she could muster? The seconds dragged, and she wondered if security personnel debated about talking first or just going ahead and killing them. She wanted to scream, ‘Wait, we’re PHC!’ Yet maybe that fact was going against them in the debate.
Her thoughts stopped as the glass door opened. Her knees felt weak, and she felt absurdly happy that she could live a few more hours.
Out marched a slender man in a brown uniform. He smoked a stimstick, the tip glowing red, and he wore his cap at a rakish angle. He smiled at them, but his mean little eyes took in their lasers, their red uniforms.
He smiled to show her she didn’t frighten him. Major Orlov was certain of it, the arrogant prick! He probably relished his position. He no doubt delighted in cowing people when he knew snipers would back his every word. So she took a wide stance and put her hands on her heavy hips. She glowered at him with the PHC look.
It didn’t impress. He saluted, allowed himself another drag on his stub of a stimstick, then took it with his slim fingers and flicked it far. In fright, Major Orlov and her men watched the smoldering stub. It seemed too much like a signal. When the stub hit the bricks and broke into sparks they all winced. But nothing bad happened.
“It’s major, I believe,” he said, with a cursory glance at her epaulets.
Major Orlov maintained her glower, and she hated him more by the nanosecond. She wasn’t used to such disrespect and she silently damned him for scaring her.
He darted a glance at her killers, and the down turn at the corner of his lips said he saw something nasty about them that one shouldn’t really talk about. So he regarded her again. “This is a restricted area, as I’m sure you know.”
Major Orlov drew a plastic computer card from her side. It was her directive. She thrust it at him.
He made no move to take it. “You must move along now, Major, and, uh, take your
“This is direct from Beijing.” The first hint of uncertainty entered his eyes, and oh, that thrilled her.
“This is Deep-Core.” He spoke reverently.
“The SU Directorate supersedes Deep-Core.”
Momentary awe flickered across his face—that she could bear orders stamped by a Director. He suppressed the awe, and then he snatched the card and dropped it into a scanner slung on his belt. He stared at the scanner longer than necessary. Finally, he glanced at her, murmuring, “This is highly unusual.”
“Notice the seal.” She couldn’t keep the glee out of her voice. “SU Directorate.”
“Hmm.” He spoke into his cuff. Then he drew a second stimstick from his uniform.
Her men stiffened, as if this slender officer would actually do the killing. He need merely twitch his finger and lasers would cut them down. He had no need to draw a gun, not out here.
The Deep-Core officer inhaled, and the end of his stimstick glowed into life. He blew narcotic smoke into the air. Suddenly he cocked his head as if he heard an inner voice. No doubt, an implant communicator had been embedded in his skull. He lifted his eyebrows, glanced at Orlov. It took him a moment to formulate the words. “This way then,” he said, “but your goons stay behind.”
“I beg to differ. My orders clearly state I’m to help defend your station.”
“You can’t mean inside?” he asked in outrage, finally shedding his calm.
“My orders are explicit.”
“But…. That just isn’t done.”
“If you need to, reread the directive,” she said.
He spoke into his cuff again, sharply. The answer returned faster. He blinked and took the longest drag of his stimstick yet, holding the smoke in his lungs. He exhaled as if sighing. Finally, he composed himself and muttered, “Very well then, follow me.”
Major Orlov marched across the plaza toward the Deep-Core Station, her squad behind her. Inside would be armored security. They would be just as suspicious as this man was. This was a delicate operation. The elevator down would be Security’s inner sanctum, the holy of holies for these officers. Deep-Core’s orders, training and special conditioning were to destroy the elevator rather than to lose control of it. Oh yes, this would be a very delicate operation, perhaps the greatest of her career.
A pain flared in her ponderous left breast. Major Orlov feared the end, yet…. The good of the many outweighed that of the few. She knew that. It beat in her brain until she wanted to retch. So she set her teeth and marched after the slender Deep-Core officer. At least she’d take all the bastards of Greater Sydney with her, there was that much to console her. And she’d take out the hated Highborn who had brought this awful fate to pass.
Hot molten metal would spew into Greater Sydney, slaying, searing and destroying all. No one could escape. It brought an odd smile to Orlov’s lips. Then the brown-uniformed officer opened the glass door into the Deep-Core building. She followed. Behind came her killers. The extra special operation was about to begin.
16.
The frenzied hordes appalled Marten. Faintly, from down the stairwells came the sounds of gunfire and plasma cannons. The sounds lashed the crowds, the masses, and they trampled weaker people, clawed and fought to get away. Illegal weapons appeared. Shots rang out. The moans of the dying mingled with groans of terror. Hundred-man fights raged. Big men with crank bats, wearing the uniform of a local sports team, waded through the mob. Their heavy bats rose and fell. People collapsed, their skulls crushed and their faces bleeding. Kitchen knives appeared in fists, were plunged into tightly packed bodies. An overturned car plugged one lane.
