CHAPTER 27
South Pole
ANNOS MARTIS 238. 4. 0. 00:00
Staying low and running in a crouch, we take a wide loop around the perimeter of the camp and count on the symbiarmor’s camouflage to hide us in the blindingly white ice sheet. It’s only a half a kilometer, but my thighs are burning and my lungs tighten. I want to cough badly, but I hold off until we’re in position behind a knoll above the habipod that protects the vehicles.
Six Dr?u sentries guard them. They carry plasma pistols, except for one, who holds a battle rifle. I mark him as the leader and signal to Vienne that he’s the primary target.
She confirms the order with a nod. Then quickly digs a trench on the knoll. Fits her armalite with a scope and a sniper barrel equipped with a silencer. Silently she inserts a clip of armor-piercing ammo.
“Mimi,” I say, “watch my back.”
“Backside being watched, chief.”
“I said back.”
“Same general area, correct?”
While Vienne locks in on her target, Ockham and I move closer. Once Vienne takes out the leader, we’ll rush the other five and make quick work of them. Hopefully before they can sound the alert.
I pull a combat knife from my boot. Ockham does the same. Then moves ahead to the next cover.
“Let’s do this the old-fashioned way, no?” he whispers.
“Vienne,” I say through the aural link, “eyes on our target?”
“Target acquired, chief. I see the boy. He’s under a tarp on the third sled. Give the word.”
“Thirty seconds. We’re almost in po—”
Ahead, Ockham slips on a patch of ice and slides to one knee and flattens himself on the ground. The noise catches the attention of the Dr?u leader, who turns toward it. He grunts at one of the sentries, the smallest of the crew, who reluctantly follows the order. The leader trudges up the hill away from the habipod, mumbling what have to be curses and wiping drool from the side of his mouth.
From my vantage point, I can easily take the sentry down, he’s so tantalizingly close. But because it would wreck the mission, I do nothing. Nothing but wait and hope. And pray that Ockham’s camouflage is good enough to hide him.
The sentry takes two steps forward. His heavy boot lands atop one of Ockham’s hands. He turns in a semicircle, using its foot as a pivot point. Then he aims the pistol toward the hill where Vienne’s attention is focused on the leader. She’s not aware of the reflection from the weapon aimed at her chest.
I hear a click and smell the discharge of magnesium fuse. In three seconds the plasma will heat to critical mass, and the Dr?u will have a kill shot.
“Now!” I shout to Vienne over the link and leap from cover and strike the Dr?u at the base of the neck with my knife. The sentry collapses.
Vienne fires the shot. I hear the leader’s body collapse onto a power sled. The Dr?u call out in surprise when I grab the charged plasma pistol. I toss it to Ockham, who is already on his feet. The old man fires three quick shots, taking out a Dr?u with each blast.
A plasma glob zips over my head as I charge the remaining sentries. I take out the first one with a front kick to the solar plexus. Then spin to the next one, who has picked up the battle rifle. I reach for my armalite and realize it isn’t in the holster.
“Oops,” I say. “You wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man, right?”
A nasty grin splits the Dr?u’s face, and he begins to squeeze the trigger as an armor-piercing bullet enters and exits his chest cavity. He’s still grinning when he pitches forward and lands atop the body of his leader.
With the crew taken out, I signal Ockham and Vienne forward. Then I check the perimeter, making sure that we’ve not been spotted yet. When Vienne reaches the third sled, she tosses the tarp aside and pulls Jean-Paul by the ear out of the cargo bay.
“Oy!” he manages to say before she claps a hand over his mouth.
The boy bites down just as hard, clamping his teeth on the exposed webbing between her thumb and forefinger. Vienne, after letting out a quiet huff of pain, punches him at the base of the skull. His knees wobble, and he collapses in a pile of shivering, unconscious flesh.
“Blighter,” she says, sticking her bleeding hand into a pile of snow.
I look to Ockham, who shakes his head sympathetically. “Feisty little beast, no?”
“Put him in a sled,” I tell Ockham. “And cover him up with the tarp. Him carking of hypothermia’s no better than getting fragged by the Dr?u.”
“Yes, chief,” Ockham says. He cocoons Jean-Paul in the tarp, then lays him behind the jump seat of the sled.
“Vienne,” I say, opening my gear pack, “keep watch. Ockham, help me place this C-forty-two.”
I hand three charges to Ockham. “There are two more sleds than we’ve got charges for, so we’ll need to do double duty on two of the sleds. Those two in the back parked closest together. We’ll leave that one in front for ourselves.” After checking to make sure the fuel tank is full, I move as many boxes of chain gun ammo that will fit into the cargo hold.
“My apologies, chief,” Ockham says as we work. “I almost fig-jammed the mission. Damn these old legs. There was a day when I could walk a tight wire forty meters off the ground. Now I’m lucky just to tie my own boots.”
“No harm,” I say. “Let’s finish the job first. We can whine about the old days when we’re back at the Cross.”
I’m joking, but Ockham doesn’t want to laugh. “It’s not the way of the Tenets, chief. A Regulator buries his face while a beastie’s centimeters from slaughtering him like a feed animal.” The joy he showed just a few minutes ago has evaporated. “Better to go out in a glory blaze. Die a beautiful death.”
“Enough philosophy, no?” I say. “Let’s finish the job before the Dr?u finish their supper.”
I set the last timer. Then look up to check Ockham’s progress. My eye catches a flicker of motion from the front of the habipod. The Dr?u I kicked in the face—he’s awake. And reaching for an alarm on the open door of the shed.
Twip! Vienne’s shot hits the Dr?u in the chest. He pitches forward. Blood pours out of the wound. But it isn’t a kill shot, and the Dr?u raises his hand as another round catches him. His hand falls onto the alarm. A siren sounds.
“Ockham!” I shout. “Fire up this power sled. Vienne! Cover us! We’re moving out!”
Jumping into the seat of the sled, I punch the starter button. The turbine squeals as the fuel hits, and I let her roll out of the habipod. Then from the knoll above us, Vienne empties a clip of ammo, the spent cartridges ejecting in a steady stream around her. Although I can’t see anything yet, I know it can mean only one thing.
The Dr?u are coming.
Coming for us.