Whatever works. Ready?
Yes I am, Powell said. I’ve got some anger to work out. And not just from teaching.
* * *
Well, this is definitely not good, Powell said to me.
The two of us, still in full camo, lay two hundred meters out from a large concrete slab, itself on the edge of a disused reservoir. On the slab were two missile launchers, an electromagnetic mass driver, and two beam weapons. One of the launchers was missing two of its missiles, and next to it two specialists had hauled over new weapons to load onto it. The specialists were not human.
Fucking Rraey, Powell said, naming the species. What are they doing here?
Shooting down our shuttles, I said.
But why? How did they even get onto this planet?
I think they were invited.
By the prime minister? I’m going to shoot him twice now.
We still need to bring him in alive, I said.
I didn’t say I was going to kill him, Powell replied. Just that I was going to shoot him twice.
Let’s focus on what we’re doing here first.
All right, Powell said. How do you want to do this?
I looked again at the slab. Each of the weapon platforms had its own set of technicians and operators, which amounted to four Rraey each. Each of the platforms also had its own power source, the largest being attached to the mass driver, which had to pull some serious energy into its electromagnets. The platforms were spaced haphazardly, as if they were hastily installed and meant to be equally hastily removed. And indeed toward the back of the platform were a set of trucks large enough to pack up the platforms and drive them away. There was a fifth truck as well, smaller than the rest, out of the top of which sprouted various communications receivers. Inside of it were several Rraey, visible through windows. Command and communications. Finally, two Rraey with rifles walked the perimeter of the slab. Security, such as it was.
I see about twenty-four Rraey, I said, to Powell.
I check your math, she said.
I want at least a couple alive.
Fine. Anyone in particular?
Let’s keep the C&C staff breathing for now.
You’re the boss.
You take the security and the trucks, and knock out the C&C power.
Some of them will still have handhelds.
Don’t give them time to use them.
You said you wanted them unharmed.
I said I wanted them breathing.
Oh, okay, Powell said. That makes things easier.
I’ll take the weapons crews.
That’s a lot.
I have a plan.
Yeah? What is it?
Watch this, I said, set my Empee for a particle beam, and shot into one of the missiles the weapons crew was trying to install into the launcher. I aimed not for the payload, but the fuel.
It went up like holiday fireworks, taking the launcher, its missiles, its crew, and the crews of the adjoining platforms with it. Everything on the slab crumpled, including any Rraey unfortunate enough to be outside when the missile platform went up. It was a good thing we still had our masks on; they protected our ears from the blast.
“I thought you might do that,” Powell said out loud, breaking cover and standing up.
“You’re not worried about them seeing you?” I asked.
“Lieutenant, at this point I want them to see me coming,” she said, and stalked off, Empee up.
I smiled, stayed crouched, and waited for any of the Rraey on the slab to start moving again. From time to time one would start to move away. I stopped them from continuing to do so.
There was a soft thudding sound; Powell had taken out the command truck’s power source. I saw her stalk across the slab, toward the truck, shooting truck drivers as she went. Behind her, one of the Rraey truck drivers had grabbed a weapon and was maneuvering around its truck to get a shot. I dealt with it.
You missed one, I sent to her.
I knew he was there, she sent back. I knew you were there too.
A Rraey appeared out the door of the command truck’s cabin. Powell shot it in the leg; it went down squawking.
Keep a couple alive, I said.
That depends on them, Powell sent back. She reached the truck, grabbed the squawking Rraey, and pushed it in front of her as she went through the cabin door.
Things were quiet, at least from my point of view, for a couple of minutes afterward.
I left a couple alive, Powell said, after those couple of minutes had passed. But you might want to hurry.
I hurried down.
The inside of the command truck was a mess. There were three dead Rraey in it, including the one Powell had shot in the leg. Two more Rraey were at the back of the cabin, keening. From what little I knew of Rraey physiology, they were both sporting broken limbs. Powell had stripped them of their personal electronics; the rest of the cabin’s electronics were down. Light in the cabin consisted of a couple of small emergency lights.
“Any trouble?” I asked Powell as she entered.
“No,” she said. “They’re not very good at close quarters.”