Captain, Jenne said, what dwe do about the slopes who grabbed you? Shall we call in an interrogation team and
We dont do anything, Pritchard interrupted. We just pretend none of this happened and head back to. He paused. His flesh wavered both hot and cold as Margritte sprayed his ankles with some of the apparatus from the medical kit. Say, how did you find me, anyway?
We shut off coverage when youwent into your room, Jenne said, seeing that the commo tech herself did not intend to speak. He meant, Pritchard knew, they had shut off the sound when their captain had said, Sal. None of the three of them were looking either of the other two in the eyes. After a bit, though, Margi noticed the carrier line from your implant had dropped off her oscilloscope. I checked your room, didnt find you. Didnt see much point talking it over with the remfs on duty, either.
So we got satellite recce and found two trucksd left the area since we got back. One was Riis, and the other was a civvie junker before that. Itd been parked in the woods out of sight, half a kay up the road from the buildings. Both trucks unloaded in Haacin. We couldnt tell which load was you, but Margi said if we got close, shed home on your carrier even though you werent calling us on the implant. Some girl we got here, hey?
Pritchard bent forward and squeezed the commo techs shoulder. She did not look up, but she smiled. Yeah, always knew she was something, he agreed, but I dont think I realized quite what a person she was until just now.
Margritte lifted her smile. Rob ordered First Platoon to fall in with us, she said. He set up the whole rescue. Her fine-fingered hands caressed Pritchards calves.
But there was other business in Haacin, now. Riis had been quicker to act than Pritchard had hoped. He asked, You say one of the infantrys trucks took a load here a little bit ago?
Yeah, you want the off-print? Jenne agreed, searching for the flimsy copy of the satellite picture. What the hell would they be doing, anyhow?
I got a suspicion, his captain said grimly, and I suppose its one weve got to check out.
Michael First-Three to Michael One, the radio broke in. Vehicles approaching from the east on the hardball.
Michael One to Michael First, Pritchard said, letting the search for contraband arms wait for this new development. Reverse and form a line abreast beyond the village. Twenty meter intervals. The Plowll take the road. More weapons from Riis? More of Barthes troops when half his sector command was already in Portela? Pritchard touched switches beneath the vision blocks as Kowie slid the tank into position. He split the screen between satellite coverage and a ground-level view at top magnification. Six vehicles, combat cars, coming fast. Pritchard swore. Friendly, because only the Slammers had armored vehicles on Kobold, not that cars were a threat to tanks anyway. But no combat cars were assigned to this sector; and the unexpected is always bad news to a company commander juggling too many variables already.
Platoon nearing Tango Sigma four-two, three-two, please identify to Michael One, Pritchard requested, giving Haacins map coordinates.
Margritte turned up the volume of the main radio while she continued to bandage the captains rope cuts. The set crackled, Michael One, this is Alpha One and Alpha First. Stand by.
Gods bleeding cunt! Rob Jenne swore under his breath. Pritchard was nodding in equal agitation. Alpha was the Regiments special duty company. Its four combat car platoons were Col. Hammers bodyguards and police. The troopers of A Company were nicknamed the White Mice, and they were viewed askance even by the Slammers of other companiesmen who prided themselves on being harder than any other combat force in the galaxy. The White Mice in turn feared their commander, Maj. Joachim Steuben; and if that slightly-built killer feared anyone, it was the man who was probably traveling with him this night. Pritchard sighed and asked the question. Alpha One, this is Michael One. Are you flying a pennant, sir?
Affirmative, Michael One.
Well, hed figured Col. Hammer was along as soon as he heard what the unit was. What the Old Man was doing here was another question, and one whose answer Pritchard did not look forward to learning.
The combat cars glided to a halt under the guns of their bigger brethren. The tremble of their fans gave the appearance of heat ripples despite the snow. From his higher vantage point, Pritchard watched the second car slide out of line and fall alongside The Plow. The men at the nose and right wing guns were both short, garbed in nondescript battle gear. They differed from the other troopers only in that their helmet shields were raised and that the faces visible beneath were older than those of most Slammers: Col. Alois Hammer and his hatchetman.
No need for radio, Captain, Hammer called in a husky voice. What are you doing here?
Pritchards tongue quivered between the truth and a lie. His crew had been covering for him, and he wasnt about to leave them holding the bag. All the breaches of regulations they had committed were for their captains sake. Sir, I brought First Platoon back to Haacin to check whether any of the powerguns theyd hijacked from Barthe were still in civvie hands. Pritchard could feel eyes behind the cracked shutters of every east-facing window in the village.
And have you completed your check? the colonel pressed, his voice mild but his eyes as hard as those of Maj. Steuben beside him; as hard as the iridium plates of the gun shields.
Pritchard swallowed. He owed nothing to Capt. Riis, but the young fool was his superiorand at least he hadnt wanted the Dutch to kill Pritchard. He wouldnt put Riis ass in the bucket if there were neutral ways to explain the contraband. Besides, they were going to need Riis and his Dutch contacts for the rest of the plan. Sir, when you approached I was about to search a building where I suspect some illegal weapons are stored.
And instead youll provide back-up for the major here, said Hammer, the false humor gone from his face. His words rattled like shrapnel. Hell retrieve the twenty-four powerguns which Capt. Riis saw fit to turn over to civilians tonight. If Joachim hadnt chanced, chanced onto that requisition. Hammers left glove shuddered with the strength of his grip on the forward tribarrel. Then the colonel lowered his eyes and voice, adding, The quartermaster who filled a requisition for twenty-four pistols from Central Supply is in the infantry again tonight. And Capt. Riis is no longer with the Regiment.
Steuben tittered, loose despite the tension of everyone around him. The cold was bitter, but Joachims right hand was bare. With it he traced the baroque intaglios of his holstered pistol. Mr. Riis is lucky to be alive, the slight Newlander said pleasantly. Luckier than some would have wished. But Colonel, I think wed best go pick up the merchandise before anybody nerves themself to use it on us.
Hammer nodded, calm again. Interfile your blowers with ours, Captain, he ordered. Your panzers watch street level while the cars take care of upper floors and roofs.
Pritchard saluted and slid down into the tank, relaying the order to the rest of his platoon. Kowie blipped The Plows throttles, swinging the turreted mass in its own length and sending it back into the village behind the lead combat car. The tank felt light as a dancer, despite the constricting sidestreet Kowie followed the car into. Pritchard scanned the full circuit of the vision blocks. Nothing save the wind and armored vehicles moved in Haacin. When Steuben had learned a line company was requisitioning two dozen extra sidearms, the major had made the same deductions as Pritchard had and had inspected the same satellite tape of a truck unloading. Either Riis was insane or he really thought Col. Hammer was willing to throw away his lifes work to arm a villageinadequately. Lord and Martyrs! Riis would have had to be insane to believe that!
Their objective was a nondescript two-story building separated from its neighbors by narrow alleys. Hammer directed the four rearmost blowers down a parallel street to block the rear. The searchlights of the vehicles chilled the flat concrete and glared back from the windows of the building. A battered surface truck was parked in the street outside. It was empty. Nothing stirred in the house.
Hammer and Steuben dismounted without haste. The majors helmet was slaved to a loudspeaker in the car. The speaker boomed, Everyone out of the building. You have thirty seconds. Anyone found inside after thatll be shot. Thirty seconds!
Though the residents had not shown themselves earlier, the way they boiled out of the doors proved they had expected the summons. All told, there were eleven of them. From the front door came a well-dressed man and woman with their three children: a sexless infant carried by its mother in a zippered cocoon; a girl of eight with her hood down and her hair coiled in braids about her forehead; and a twelve-year-old boy who looked nearly as husky as his father. Outside staircases disgorged an aged couple on the one hand and four tough-looking men on the other.
Pritchard looked at his blower chief. The sergeants right hand was near the gun switch and he mumbled an old ballad under his breath. Chest tightening, Pritchard climbed out of his hatch. He jumped to the ground and paced quietly over to Hammer and his aide.
Theres twenty-four pistols in this building, Joachims amplified voice roared, or at least you people know where they are. I want somebody to save trouble and tell me.
The civilians tensed. The mother half-turned to swing her body between her baby and the officers.
Joachims pistol was in his hand, though Pritchard had not seen him draw it. Nobody to speak? Joachim queried. He shot the eight-year-old in the right knee. The spray of blood was momentary as the flesh exploded. The girls mouth pursed as her buckling leg dropped her facedown in the street. The pain would come later. Her parents screamed, the father falling to his knees to snatch up the child as the mother pressed her forehead against the door jamb in blind panic.
Pritchard shouted, You son of a bitch! and clawed for his own sidearm. Steuben turned with the precision of a turret lathe. His pistols muzzle was a white-hot ring from its previous discharge. Pritchard knew only that and the fact that his own weapon was not clear of its holster. Then he realized that Col. Hammer was shouting, No! and that his open hand had rocked Joachims head back.
Joachims face went pale except for the handprint burning on his cheek. His eyes were empty. After a moment, he holstered his weapon and turned back to the civilians. Now, wholl tell us where the guns are? he asked in a voice like breaking glassware.
The tear-blind woman, still holding her infant, gurgled, Here! In the basement! as she threw open the door. Two troopers followed her within at a nod from Hammer. The father was trying to close the girls wounded leg with his hands, but his palms were not broad enough.
Pritchard vomited on the snowy street.
Margritte was out of the tank with a medikit in her hand. She flicked the civilians hands aside and began freezing the wound with a spray. The front door banged open again. The two White Mice were back with their submachineguns slung under their arms and a heavy steel weapons-chest between them. Hammer nodded and walked to them.
You could have brought in an interrogation team! Pritchard shouted at the backs of his superiors. You dont shoot children!
Machine interrogation takes time, Captain, Steuben said mildly. He did not turn to acknowledge the tanker. This was just as effective.
Thats a little girl! Pritchard insisted with his hand clenched. The child was beginning to cry, though the local anesthetic in the skin-sealer had probably blocked the physical pain. The psychic shock of a body that would soon end at the right knee would be worse, though. The child was old enough to know that no local doctor could save the limb. This isnt something that human beings do!
Captain, Steuben said, theyre lucky I havent shot all of them.
Hammer closed the arms chest. Weve got what we came for, he said. Lets go.
Stealing guns from my colonel, the Newlander continued as if Hammer had not spoken. The handprint had faded to a dull blotch. I really ought to
Joachim, shut it off! Hammer shouted. Were going to talk about what happened tonight, you and I. Id rather do it when we were alonebut Ill tell you now if I have to. Or in front of a court martial.
Steuben squeezed his forehead with the fingers of his left hand. He said nothing.
Lets go, the colonel repeated.
Pritchard caught Hammers arm. Take the kid back to Centrals medics, he demanded.
Hammer blinked. I should have thought of that, he said simply. Sometimes I lose track ofthings that arent going to shoot at me. But we dont need this sort of reputation.
I dont care cop for public relations, Pritchard snapped. Just save that little girls leg.
Steuben reached for the child, now lying limp. Margritte had used a shot of general anesthetic. The girls father went wild-eyed and swung at Joachim from his crouch. Margritte jabbed with the injector from behind the civilian. He gasped as the drug took hold, then sagged as if his bones had dissolved. Steuben picked up the girl.
Hammer vaulted aboard the combat car and took the child from his subordinates arms. Cutting himself into the loudspeaker system, the stocky colonel thundered to the street, Listen you people. If you take guns from mercseither Barthes men or my ownwell grind you to dust. Take em from civilians if you think you can. You may have a chance then. If you rob mercs, you just get a chance to die.
Hammer nodded to the civilians, nodded again to the brooding buildings to either side. He gave an unheard command to his driver. The combat cars began to rev their fans.
Pritchard gave Margritte a hand up and followed her. Michael One to Michael First, he said. Head back with Alpha First.
PRITCHARD RODE INSIDE the turret after they left Haacin, glad for once of the armor and the cabin lights. In the writhing tree-limbs he had seen the Dutch mothers face as the shot maimed her daughter.