Fatal Blade (Decker's War#3) (31 page)

“If you see the hillside winking, it’s not for you.”

“Got it.  I won’t wink back.  Rookie Trooper, out.”

“Do you have anyone who can meet them by the rapids?”  Talyn asked.  “Because that’s where he’ll be headed.  He doesn’t know of any other spot to get into the highlands and hide.”

The duty officer looked at a computer screen and nodded.

“There’s a platoon-sized patrol in the area.  I’ll have them divert to intercept our man.  They should be there in about three hours, which might be cutting it close, but it’s the best I can offer.”

“That’s plenty, thanks,” Talyn said.  “Provided he gets there in one piece, I’m sure he’ll find the patrol if it doesn’t find him first.”

***

Decker knew there was a good chance the militia might have intercepted the transmission – it was their radio gear after all – but hopefully, they were too busy running after him to wonder what the nonsense language was all about.

A quick look at the sensor readout proved that they’d gained a little more ground but were still out of range for his weapons, which meant he was out of range for theirs.

Rolling hills rose from the starlit prairie and the river began to meander, forcing the autopilot to slow them down lest they skip over the embankment, and Decker switched it off, preferring to fly by the seat of his own pants instead of losing ground to militia drivers who knew the terrain better than he did.

It was just as well that Kari still lay curled up in a ball in the crew compartment.  Had she looked out through one of the thick viewports or at Zack’s navigation screen, she might have asked that he drop her off immediately so she could take her chances with the militia on foot instead of risking a sudden stop caused by running into a large rock at two hundred kilometers an hour.

He eventually caught sight of the maglev line’s steel ribbon, a bright slice in the velvety texture of the darkened fields that filled his horizon.

Suddenly, a bright flare zipped by his port side, like a shooting star that had lost its way.  He looked at the targeting sensor and swore.  A seventh skimmer, come from who knew where, had joined the hunt and it was half the distance from the others, which meant he was in range.  But then, so was the militia vehicle.

Turning control back to the autopilot, he focused his attention on the weapons station.  It was simple, almost elegantly so, geared for colonial troops and reservists who had little time or inclination to learn how to use more complex ordnance.

The targeting pip quickly centered on his pursuer, and he smiled.  They had no doubt been ordered to bring them down in a manner that left at least Kari alive.  He had no such limitations and selected the thirty-millimeter gun.  One touch of the firing stud and it vomited three fiery rounds in rapid succession.

The first one splashed across the skimmer’s front skirt while the other two missed and sped on into the night.

Decker fed minute adjustments to the computer and touched the firing stud again.  This time, all three rounds hit and the combat car slewed violently to the left, either trying to escape his next salvo or out of control thanks to battle damage.  Either way, it lost ground and Zack took the controls back from the autopilot to push his fans into the red.

When the newcomer didn’t reappear on his sensor, he smiled.  It had been a clean hit after all.  One down, the original six to go.

***

“I sure hope the next issue we get isn’t going to be as damned heavy as Mathilda.”  Piers Jung, a farmer by day, rebel fighter by night, heaved the antiquated plasma gun off the farm truck’s open bed.

He and his companion, Udo Koba, both dressed in black, with black caps and blackened faces, were two-thirds of the independence cell hailing from the farming hamlet of Odaran, two kilometers up one of the Yangtze River’s tributaries.

“Never happy when you don’t have anything to complain about, are you?” The older man replied.  “Luck of the draw that we have to set up here.”

“I think it’s just a bit strange we get Case Green Three without warning like that.  Tell me again what the orders said.”

Jung waited until Koba had swung the tripod and his share of the ammo over his broad shoulders before heading towards a cluster of trees at the top of the bluff.  It and its counterpart on the other side of the river were the best firing positions for kilometers around, and he briefly wondered whether another cell, just a stone’s throw away, was doing the same.

“Ambush a flight of militia skimmers coming from Iskellian but make sure we don’t touch the first one that’ll come by.  That’s our folks in it, and they’ve got to get to Tianjin okay.  It should have three lights on its nose, a red on the right, a green on the left and a white on top, like a triangle.”

“The green on our left or the skimmer’s, ‘cause on a starship, green is on the right, starboard?”  Jung bulled his way through the dense scrub towards the firing position they’d marked out weeks ago when they first got the new set of contingency orders.

“If we’re facing the car, that would make it our left, right?”  Koba chuckled.

“Everyone’s a friggin’ comedian.”

They eventually came to a small depression at the edge of the bluff, well covered by vegetation on all but the side facing downriver and Koba, who was huffing like a primitive steam engine, put the tripod down.

“Set her here, kiddo.  I’ll go make sure we got a clear line of fire.  The speed they’re likely to go, we’re going to get a minute, tops.”

“You realize that humping Mathilda out of here if the militia decides to change targets and come after us is going to be a bitch.”

“The plans for Case Green Three say that if we can’t take her back, we turn her into a booby trap and run.  Word is we got newer stuff coming down the line anyway.”

“A sad end to a fine piece.”  Jung attached a large magazine to the side of the receiver, switched on the power pack and then patted the ungainly weapon.  “But if she can take out a few more of the scum as an IED, it’ll be a good way to go.”

Koba rejoined the younger man by the gun and handed him a set of binos.

“Here, you get first watch.  When your eyes start seeing stuff that doesn’t exist, I’ll take over.”

“You think we have company over there?”  He nodded towards the south bank of the river.

“Why don’t you go stand on the edge of the cliff and wave?”  Koba nudged his friend in the ribs.  “Maybe someone will wave back.”

“Perhaps the next time,” Jung replied, binos glued to his eyes, “there’s something just popped up on the horizon.  It’s still too far away to see, but at this hour, who else could it be?”

“Lock and load, little buddy.  It’s time to shoot us some militia scum.”

A broad smile appeared on Koba’s wrinkled face as if he expected this to be the most fun he’d ever have.

THIRTY-TWO

“How did this happen?”

Harend tried to keep his voice calm, but there was no mistaking the intense anger behind it.

“A prisoner from your dungeon, Captain Kozlev, escapes with one of the best leads we’ve had up to now and leaves us with almost twenty casualties, six of them killed outright.  How?  The moment this gets around – and it will – the rebels will gain at least ten thousand more active supporters.”

The other officers, standing at attention around the conference room table, carefully avoided meeting their colonel’s eyes, and those closest to Kozlev tried to edge away, lest they become collateral damage.

“He can’t have been just an ordinary pro, sir,” she replied, her basilisk stare defiant.  “I’ve reviewed the security camera recordings, and I estimate that he’s a veteran of the Fleet’s Special Forces at the very least, or maybe even naval intelligence.  That would explain how he managed it.”

“Or maybe he’s a damned regular on a mission to fuck with us,” Harend shouted, striking the table with his fist.  “Not a veteran, Captain Kozlev, but a Fleet operative.  Did you think of that when you decided to play games with him?  Obviously not.”

He fought to regain his composure in the face of this disaster.

“Sir,” Major Alegre, the militia’s operations officer ventured, “as of the latest report, the pursuit squadron is gaining.  They’ll be able to splash him well before he reaches Tianjin.”

“They’d better make damn sure both of them survive.  If the Fleet’s already here, we need to move up the timetable.”

Harend waved his hand at them.

“Dismissed, except for Captain Kozlev.  I want updates every fifteen minutes.”

The assembled officers snapped to attention in unison and saluted before filing out of the room.  When the door shut behind the last one, Harend turned his stare on Kozlev.

“You fucked up, Rika, and you’re going to fix it, or I’ll make sure you stand in front of a firing squad when we return to Celeste.  This escape makes us look like a laughing stock.  In the space of a single evening, your dungeon of doom has become nothing more than a basement with a revolving door where anyone can leave whenever they want.  That’s the spin the separatists will use to win over more of the undecided.”

“Ridicule kills,” she replied, nodding, not in the least put out by his rage, “and right now we look ridiculous.  Agreed, but that’ll be sorted the moment the pursuit shoots them down and brings their carcasses back, dead or alive.”

“I wish I had your confidence, Captain, but after that escape, I fear your off-world pro is going to be laughing at us all the way back into the highlands where we’ll never find him.”

“Perhaps.”  She shrugged.  “If that’s the case, a bit of clean-up with extreme prejudice around Tianjin might incline the colonists to opt for healthy fear instead of ridicule, especially if we can make it look like the rebellion lost its way in the wake of this little contretemps.”

“I’d rather we bring both your man and the Takan girl back.  It’ll send the message that no one, not even the best off-world pros can escape us.”

“And we will,” Kozlev smiled.  “I still have a date with a dagger and some tender flesh.”

Harend stared at her for a few seconds, wondering again, as he’d had so many times before, how she lived with herself.

“Dismissed, Captain.  We’ll discuss the matter in greater depth once this is over.”

She came to attention and saluted him with what seemed almost like a hint of mockery.  Then she turned on her heel and left him to mentally compose his report to Governor Cedeno.

***

The mathematics of time and distance weren’t open to bribery nor did they respond to Decker’s creative curses.

Ahead, he saw dark shapes materialize on either side of the river where the central plateau separating the Tianjin district from the capital pushed bluffs right up to the water’s edge.  He’d be funneled down a narrow pass with no ability to evade his pursuers other than by going forward, and they were catching up fast.

A burst of plasma bracketed his skimmer, fire from the lead militia car.  It was a warning salvo, telling him to land, but he knew the next one, should he not obey, would be aimed at his rear fans.  He flicked on the remote weapons station and fired back, targeting the vehicle's center of mass.  As before, the first round splashed on target, digging a divot in the metal glacis and the remainder lost themselves in the night.  He was about to adjust and shoot again when bright blooms of plasma erupted from the top of the cliffs on either side of the riverbed.

They streaked over his skimmer and struck the nearest militia car, destroying part of its bow and sending it into an uncontrolled spin over the water’s surface until it hit a large rock broadside on and came to a jarring halt.

Decker barely had time to see a second militia skimmer take a bad hit while the remainder broke left and right to avoid sharing the same fate before he was swallowed by the narrow river canyon.

“I don’t know who you guys are,” he shouted, relief flooding his nervous system like an euphoric drug, “but BOOYAH!”

He glanced over his shoulder at Kari and grinned maniacally.

“Looks like your dad’s buddies got themselves a piece of our action, kid.  We’re not alone in this anymore.”

They were half-way to Tianjin by now which meant it was quickly becoming bandit country for the militia.  He was going to make it after all.

***

“I guess we did have company,” Jung shouted, running through the woods a few steps behind Koba.  “Did you see them nail one of the fuckers?  A thing of beauty.  Too bad about Mathilda, but she’ll go out like a champ after scoring a most beautiful hit.”

They reached the farm truck hidden under a clump of native giant ferns and climbed in.

The older man switched on the reactor and lit his fans.  Moments later, they were careening down a dirt track in absolute darkness, and only the farmer’s instinct and knowledge of the area kept them from crashing into trees that were hard enough to dent armor.

A dull thump suddenly reverberated and a brief, bright glow outlined the crest where they’d left the booby-trapped gun.

“Yes!”  Jung pumped his fist.  “Nailed more of the bastards.”

“I’ll be happy if the remainder don’t take it into their minds to come looking for us just now.  I’ve no wish to end up singing for my life in their damned dungeons.”

***

Major Alegre, face drained of all color, stood rigidly at attention in front of Colonel Harend’s desk.  His lips trembled while he tried to find a way of reporting the newest disaster that wouldn’t result in a thorough reaming out.  In the end, he decided there was no way to sugar-coat bad news

“The pursuit squadron reports two cars out of commission from enemy fire and two more damaged by rebel IEDs on the Odaran bluffs.  Five dead, nine injured.  We haven’t heard from the Holback garrison skimmer who joined the chase an hour before this incident, so I’m presuming it went down as well.  That leaves two cars still in pursuit of the escapees.”

Harend didn’t immediately react, though a vein began throbbing on the side of his bald skull while his jaw muscles worked their way through an indigestible piece of news.

“Have you scrambled the Tianjin garrison?”  He asked in a voice so soft that Alegre had to lean forward.

“Yes, sir.  They sent two cars downriver to intercept and a patrol upriver as a backstop by the rapids.”

“You warned the garrison commander that if the escapees make it into the highlands, his next posting will be to the southern polar weather station?”

“I did.”

“Then you may go.”

Alegre escaped Harend’s office with a sigh of relief, astonished at his CO’s uncharacteristic restraint.  Provided he could bring some good news before this was over...

Alone once more, his fingers drumming impatiently on the desk’s polished surface, Harend wondered how he could spin this latest loss of face.  Cedeno’s disgust would be the least of his worries if more farmers volunteered to take up arms.

His forces weren’t strong enough to keep control over the entire colony in the absence of fear.  He could lower standards to increase the number of recruits of course; but that would mean reducing the militia’s fighting ability as a whole, at least for a while.

Given enough time, it would be a viable solution, yet there was a bigger problem when it came to enlisting less desirable volunteers from among the deportee population.  He just didn’t have enough regular or ex-regular non-coms in the ranks to keep reprisals against colonists from getting out of hand.

Already, there had been too many incidents for comfort, and if they became too well known, it would only be a matter of time before a Marine landing force dropped down on the government precinct and started dictating the law.  Once that happened, he could say farewell to any chance of finally getting his general’s stars.

If he lost the ability to strike fear into the colonists’ hearts, their minds would soon be looking for more inventive ways of thwarting the government.  No, he had to catch the bastard who thumbed his nose at them and execute him in public.  It would undoubtedly send the right message: fuck with us and die.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Harend glanced up to see Alegre again.  The major looked like death warmed over.

“Sir,” he began, evidently unwilling to step inside, “the two Tianjin cars were shot down with short-range missiles shortly after leaving town.  There were no survivors.”

Harend stared at the operations officer as if he was having difficulties deciphering his words.

“Have the Tianjin folks determined where those missiles were fired from?”  He finally asked.

Alegre nodded nervously.

“From the heights over the Yangtze River rapids.”

Harend tilted his head back and sighed.

“God give me strength.  Isn’t that where the backstop patrol was supposed to go?”

Alegre nodded again.

“Did someone warn them that they might be running smack dab into the rebels?”

This time, the operations officer shook his head.

“And why not, pray tell?”  Harend asked even though he suspected that he knew the answer.

“No one has been able to raise the patrol since their transport dropped them off at the trailhead.”

“So we can presume the worst, I gather.”  He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.  “That doesn’t leave Tianjin enough troops to send out anyone else without seriously compromising our hold on the town itself.”

“The two remaining Iskellian cars are still on the escapees’ trail, sir.”

“Yes, and we’ve seen how well that worked for the others, haven’t we?”

***

“Rookie Trooper, his is Phoenix,” Hera Talyn’s voice startled Zack.  He’d been staring at Tianjin’s lights, now glowing on the horizon, wondering whether the militia would nab them this close to freedom.

“Rookie Trooper here,” he replied.

“DZ’s clear, I repeat, DZ’s clear.  No bogeys circling.  Watch for the markers.”

“Roger.  Be advised I still have two of them stuck to my ass and closing in.”

A streak of plasma glanced off his side armor, and the car shuddered but remained on course.

“Amendment to my last.  I have two of them stuck on my ass
and
delivering effective fire.”

The skimmer shuddered again when a further salvo skipped off the protected aft fan housing.

“I might not make it to the DZ,” he added, aiming his own main gun on the lead militia car.  He might as well empty out the ammo locker at this point.

“Hang on just a little longer,” Talyn replied.  “Help is almost within range.”

No sooner had she uttered the word ‘range’ that a twin streak of plasma erupted from the ground, two kilometers ahead, where the open fields gave way to dense native vegetation.

Caught between Decker’s gun and the rebels shooting from their prepared positions on either side of the river, the last two militia cars veered sharply away, unwilling to risk their comrades’ fate.

“Phoenix, this is Rookie Trooper, tell the nice folks who just gave me some covering fire I’d like to buy them a beer someday, and tell the DZ master that I’m inbound.”

This late at night, few people wandered through Tianjin’s streets, but those who did were treated to the spectacle of a militia car skimming the river’s surface at high speed, ducking under bridges and firing back at militia squads attempting to bring it down.

Within a few short minutes, Decker had left the town’s bright lights behind and was fast approaching the dark mountain range where the highlands began, and no militia soldier dared go.

“Rookie Trooper,” a familiar voice came over the radio, “this is Silahdar One-Four, we’ve got your red-green-white in sight.  Watch your front for the markers.”

Tran Kidder.  Only he would use that call-sign.  Decker smiled.  Old comrades indeed.  A man he’d trained to become a first class platoon leader in the most screwed-up army he’d ever served.

Zack cut his speed, lest they run up the first of the rapids without due care.  It would be the height of stupidity to ground himself so close to the finish line after all the effort Verrill’s troops had put into covering their wild run.