Knox's Irregulars Page 14

  Ahead was the front entrance to the school. Wooden sentry stations bracketed either side of the lane. "Wait here," Nabil said coolly to the Irregulars. He and Ariane walked in a crouch to the entrance. From that close Ariane could see the thermal signatures of the sentries through the hedges. There were four of them, all out of their booths and smoking, the cherries of the cigarettes glowing brightly as they puffed. The acrid smell of Abkhenazi tobacco was strong on the wind.

  Nabil didn't bother to give her warning, springing around the hedge and charging the sentries. Ariane caught up in time to watch them die, Nabil's movements a flowing blur.

  The first collapsed before anyone even realized Nabil was there. The scout spun, pulling the guldor pichok free and slashing a second man. The guard dropped his weapon with a clatter, clutching at his throat. Thrusting his foot backward, Nabil kicked his third victim with a bone-crunching thud. By then the last man had managed to unsling his assault rifle, drawing a bead on the dervish who had dropped among them.

  Ariane cut off a warning shout, not wanting to give the team away. Watching Nabil in action, she'd forgotten the subgun hanging at her side. She triggered a silenced burst from the still-unfamiliar weapon. The rounds crackled through the hedge behind the Abkhenazi, distracting him and winning time for Nabil to take him out.

  Ariane froze, blanking on what should happen next. "Hide the bodies, girl," Nabil said, dragging two off into the guard shack.

  Berating herself silently, Ariane tugged her two into the other stand. Nabil motioned around the corner for the rest of the troops, who quickly joined them.

  The clock on her HUD said it was nearly time for the next phase of the plan, a mad sprint across open lawn broken only by the occasional shade tree. The academy was built atop a small hill. It was fortress-like, constructed in an imposing Tudor style.

  Peeking past the guard shack, Ariane watched a roving patrol disappear around the rear of the academy. Between the two guards strode a volkodav, the enormous mankiller breed of dog the Abkhenazi military favored. "Pied Piper, it's clear."

  The group dashed across the snow-covered lawn, zigzagging in case someone opened fire. Reaching the wall of the school, they pressed against it.

  "You know what to do. Do it."

  Ariane had thought Randal's leadership style was minimalist, but he was chatty next to Nabil.

  One of the men slipped a coil of thin, knotted rope from his shoulder. Taking hold of its improvised grappling hook, he tossed it at a second-floor balcony railing. The hook's claws were muffled with the same rubberized formula Lebedev used on the suits. It fell back to ground with a thump, earning him a barely audible curse from Nabil. The second try was successful.

  A pair of Irregulars ascended the rope. Four others peeled off to breach the food service entrance, while the remaining two teams moved to the large bay windows on either wing of the building. They would wait until the shooting started and burst in.

  Nabil and Ariane would go through the front door. None of Jeni's Klatch had ever been inside the school, so the Irregulars had zero idea what to expect. They'd elected to disperse as widely as possible, hoping to take down the guards before they could harm the children.

  The children. Jean-Marie. He was so close she could almost feel him.

  They high-crawled through the landscaping toward the front entrance. Heavy oaken doors were set deep in the stone archway. As Ariane crawled, a second Abkhenazi patrol came into view, walking the perimeter. She was amazed the dog couldn't hear them burrowing through the fresh snow. The wind must be for them.

  Before they could move to the doors, a low whine sounded from the dog. Ariane glanced back down at the patrol. They were nearly to the sentry shacks and one of the patrolmen called to his friends. After no one answered, he peered inside. Immediately he shouted at the top of his lungs, looking around wildly. It seemed to Ariane that he spotted something. Then he and his partner started shooting at the academy building.

  An anguished sound came from the balcony. Ariane heard a clatter as one of the Irregulars fell to the ground.

  A second later the two Abkhenazi and their hound were gone. A small crater and a large mess had taken their place. The guard shacks were blown over by the blast, and a shock wave rattled the school windows.

  "Idiot! That railgun was heard for kilometers!" Nabil snarled at Lebedev over the com, following it with a string of invective.

  "I thought they needed to be stopped," Lebedev said, sounding flustered.

  "Nabil out." He ripped open the front door, the deadbolt snapping easily with his suit's augmented strength. The sentry on the other side was alert from all the noise. He stitched autorifle slugs across Nabil's chest, staggering him but failing to pierce his armor. Close on Nabil, Ariane ended the soldier with a burst.

  The next instant seemed to slow endlessly. She nearly dropped the weapon, disgust welling up inside for the thing. The guard fell slowly, lifelessly to the ground, his face frozen in surprise. Her knees buckled as she was hit by the knowledge she'd just taken a life. The room was fuzzy and a light, tickly feeling crept over her brain like fingertips. She stumbled back against a marble bust, toppling it from the plinth.

  Her helmet rocked as Nabil's armored hand gave her a smack. "Girl, let's go. Your son is waiting."

  That got her attention. She stood, nodding drunkenly. "Okay."

  They left the foyer, confronted by long halls to either side and a central staircase winding before them.

  "Which way?"

  Shouts and autofire echoed from upstairs before Nabil could answer. "Follow me," he said, hustling for the stairs.

  ***

  The faint sound of gunfire reached Randal from the south, sounding almost like firecrackers. Moments later the hollow boom of a railgun rolled through. Randal winced. He'd hoped things would stay quiet longer than they had.

  For several minutes all was peaceful in his AO. Distantly he could make out one of the other three Security Teams engaged, though it died off quickly. Hopefully it was just a patrol vehicle responding to the clamor at the academy. The Security Team would have made short work of it.

  "Captain, they're moving. Good Lord they've got a lot of stuff." That was Devin, his forward observer watching the sub-station.

  "Easy with the Lord's name. And thanks for the head's up, Dev. Knox Out."

  Now that Lebedev and Jeni had succeeded in breaking the encryptions, the commo systems were finally compatible, and regular army could talk to militia. When speaking, Randal kept his voice cool and even, allowing a slight drawl to creep in. They needed him to be omnicompetent and in control, no matter how badly the thousands of kilos of approaching steel terrified him. "Look lively, Irregulars - the enemy is on his way. We have to hold."

  When the Abkhenazi arrived, it was fast and with no regard for defense. Their only concern seemed to be reaching the academy.

  An explosion flared from the roof of one of the row houses, a sizzling orange streak colliding with the lead vehicle, one of the infantry fighting vehicles the Abkhenazi nicknamed korobachka — "box." The armor-piercing rocket struck the thin top armor of the vehicle. Its warhead burst, injecting white-hot phosphorous into the armor, boring through to spray the inside compartment. A nanosecond later it ignited the cannon shells in the ammunition stores. The metal coffin ripped in half, its fate obscured by the thick black smoke engulfing it.

  The first rocket was joined by others, flashing from basement windows and rooftops. A stricken korobachka ground to a halt as a track blew off. One rocket misfired, fizzling off randomly and another deflected from the oblique-angled side of an IFV.

  The second volley was more successful, three of the korobachkas exploding in a brilliant pyrotechnic display.

  The thirty or so surviving IFVs pulled up sharply. Back doors fell open, expelling a dozen troops per vehicle. Unable to spot any of the hidden Irregulars, they fired at the buildings around them, milling behind the scant protection of the troop carriers.

  Abkh
enazi vehicles poured rounds into the row houses. The korobachkas mounted an autoloading 78mm cannon while the anti-aircraft crawlers had vicious quad-27mm chain guns. A few of the IFVs looked optimized for urban warfare, with high-power plasma projectors.

  From the windows, Irregular snipers dropped the Abkhenazi infantry in droves. So far, so good, thought Randal. He watched the three men he'd placed behind a boundary wall not far from the enemy. They were supposed to toss grenades and then move out.

  The grenades were devastating, bursting squarely in the middle of a massed section of Abkhenazi. But before they could escape, other enemy troops cleared the wall, enfilading them. Randal rushed forward to give cover fire, but it was too late. He cursed himself for his poor judgment.

  As if there wasn't chaos enough, Lebedev's people chose that moment to detonate the two car bombs. Shrapnel and liquid fire flew everywhere, homemade napalm coating everything around it, burning without respite. To Randal, the street looked straight from the mind of Bosch – a hellish inferno engulfing buildings, vehicles and men.

  "Randal, this is Pyatt! Where do you want me?" He hazily recognized the voice, noticing Pyatt's LANCER suit nearby.

  Peeking over the low wall, he got his bearings. The Abkhenazi infantry was spreading out, and before long they'd start digging his people out of hiding. Worse, the plasma cannons were setting buildings on fire, torching his people where they hid. The Abkhenazi chain of command might be overly rigid, but it was holding them together.

  "We've got to disrupt them. Into the fray, Pyatt."

  "After you."

  The two ran full-tilt, diving into the dismounted infantry, their machine guns firing steadily. There wasn't a shortage of targets - in fact, they were surrounded by them.

  A threat whistle sounded in his ears — someone had targeting lock on him. Legs pounding, Randal scooted behind a korobachka. The whistle stopped, thank God. There was no time to hit back. The fight moved on relentlessly.

  Running alongside the IFV that sheltered him, he tore it open with autocannon fire. Clearing it, he felt the thud of what must be rifle slugs against his back. He ignored them.

  The commo net was jumping with messages. They kept distracting him from the business of staying alive. Men nagged at him for orders. He mumbled answers reflexively, hoping in the back of his mind they were good ones.

  All the while, like a mantra, the thought kept playing in his mind — we have to hold. We just have to hold.

  ***

  Nabil halted at the top of the staircase, dropping flat to peer either way down the hall. The shots they'd heard earlier had crescendoed into a full-scale firefight.

  Ariane heard him laugh, the sound like dry leaves. "They've got our man pinned out on the balcony. Pity none of them thought to watch their rear." He rose and practically sauntered into the hall. Ariane followed, keeping her submachine gun ready.

  Casually he killed the Abkhenazi with blade and bullet. Ariane doubted they even guessed the source of their deaths. Nabil had the clinical air she'd expect of an executioner. He wiped his guldor pichok clean on a dead man's jacket.

  "All clear," Nabil called to the Irregular on the balcony. Nudging one of the corpses with a toe, he added reflectively, "I missed center mass on this one by four centimeters. Getting sloppy."

  Ariane wasn't interested in his self-critique; she wanted her child. Opening the door to her right, she glanced in cautiously. Inside were rows of bunks. Children sat on and beside them, most hiding their faces, all screaming.

  The doorjamb exploded into splinters. Ariane backpedaled, stepping into Nabil. "They... Someone's in there!"

  Nabil kicked the door wide open, diving into a combat roll to clear the entrance. Coming up, his LMG tracked for targets. Ariane followed, crouching low as she rushed in.

  Along the back wall stood an Abkhenazi officer. One massive, almost furry arm encircled the waist of a young boy. His other hand pressed a machine pistol to the child's head. With queasy relief she saw it wasn't Jean-Marie.

  "Ukhodi...Ukhodi! I will kill!" He was plainly unnerved, bald dome pouring with sweat, the hand clutching the pistol shaking violently.

  Nabil preempted anything Ariane might have said. "Put your weapon down, Ariane, he means it." He knelt slowly, turning the weapon flat to place it on the floor.

  The SMG kicked once in his hand, and he was standing again. A long red smear pointed the way to where the Abkhenazi officer's corpse slumped against the wall. There was a hole in his forehead that hadn't been there a moment before.

  Pandemonium erupted as soon as the firing stopped, the older children bolting for the exit. Ariane stood dumbfounded as the surviving Irregular from the balcony stormed into the room. "Block the door!" Nabil yelled to him. None got past.

  Ariane unsealed her helmet and threw it back. "Children, children, please! It's all right; we're here to help you." She spoke soothingly, promising them their parents and safety. Her demeanor was as important as her words. There were at least fifty children in the room and she searched their faces desperately for Jean-Marie. He wasn't among them. What she did see were hollow eyes and gaunt cheeks.

  Eventually they were able to line the children up holding hands. They were mostly older, a few into their early teens. The older led or carried the younger.

  Swallowing her acid disappointment, Ariane said with forced cheerfulness, "Now then, children. We're going to walk outside now. We get to ride in a big crawler. Everyone stay together, please." Passing Nabil, she was tempted to ask how he knew he'd hit the Abkhenazi rather than the young hostage, but she knew the answer — he hadn't cared.

  Shortly after, a call came in from one of the other teams. "Pied Piper, this is Leavitt. We got about fifty of the little buggers in here. We're down to just me and two others, but all the hostiles are dead."

  "Excellent, we're the same. Meet us out front," Nabil said, pausing a moment and then calling Johnny. "Taxi Driver, we're ready for you."

  He turned to Ariane. "Get these outside. I'll see if there's anyone left to mop up."

  Ariane led the children down the stairs and out the front. Outside, the sounds of a small war to the north were very loud. The children began wailing again. "Let's sing 'Jesus Loves the Little Children,' okay?" A few of the older ones joined in raggedly.

  Down the lane Johnny careened past the guard shacks, sideswiping one with the cargo crawler.

  "Here's our ride. Everyone queue up now. Our friend Johnny is going to take us home."

  "Wait for us," a voice said behind her. An Irregular walked out, leading a second string of children. These were much younger, the militiamen having a hard time herding them all. It took her a moment to recognize the sobbing toddler he cradled.

  "Jean-Marie!" she cried, sweeping the child from the astonished soldier's arms. Then she wasn't aware of what she said at all, murmuring nonsense in French while covering the boy's face with kisses. She barely noticed Johnny screeching to a stop behind them. Squeezing Jean-Marie tightly, she pressed her face to the top of his head, inhaling the familiar scent deeply.

  A hand clapped her curtly on the back. "Didn't you hear? Jeni just called. Gunships are coming."

  ***

  Randal was pinned down behind a burning korobachka, trading fire with one of the nasty anti-aircraft crawlers. It didn't seem deterred at all by the fact he wasn't flying, the quad-mounted chain guns tracking him relentlessly. Its sensors were powerful enough to target far-off and stealthy aircraft — his LANCER suit must look like a blimp on the gunner's screen. He couldn't expose himself long enough to get a clear shot.

  "Oh, Randy?"

  "What?" he answered testily.

  "Just thought you'd wanna know, I've plotted a gunship inbound for you, and another one for Nabil's team."

  "Hades."

  "Well said. I'll see what I can do, Cho out."

  Randal cringed as another blast from the anti-aircraft crawler rocked the vehicle he was using for cover. "Pyatt, can you drop something on this AA tr
ack for me? I'm pinned!"

  The only response was a distracted grunt, but an instant later Pyatt's autoloading mortar shells struck the open-top vehicle, disabling it.

  Something ripped through the air over the battlefield, slamming into the row houses nearest Randal. The second floor exploded outward, glass and rubble flying everywhere. On its heels came several more rockets, leaving smoky trails as they struck the buildings. Several row houses collapsed, spewing clouds of dust and smoke into the street. Randal was temporarily blind, but he was sure at least three of his rocket teams were gone.

  The gunship floated into view over a rooftop. Its vectored thrust was vented so as to make it near-silent. Watching it glide overhead, Randal was reminded of the sharks of Terra he'd seen on trideo.

  He froze, not wanting to draw its attention. A soft giggle sounded in his ear. "I pulled a voice intrusion on him, Randy." Jeni sounded pretty self-impressed.

  "Huh?"

  "You know, I faked out the gunship pilot. I hacked his commo and digitized the voice of the guy giving him orders. Then I sent him a command saying the rebels had taken over the armored vehicles and to blast away at them. And then I jammed the ComNet so their boss couldn't amend me."

  Randal spotted an Abkhenazi raising a shoulder-fired rocket, muzzle in his direction. He took him out with an LMG burst, ending the threat. A glance confirmed the hovering gunship had taken no notice. Hopefully the pilot was confused enough to hold his fire.

  When Randal didn't answer, Jeni asked curiously, "So is it doing it?"

  "Doing what?"

  "Blowing up the korobachkas."

  "No, it's just hovering. Waiting."

  She seemed put-out by that. "But my forgery was perfect. You're sure?"

  Randal made an exasperated sound. She really had no clue it wasn't all an elaborate trideo game. "Um, yeah."

  "How disappointing. Though I suppose it is preferable to them shooting at you."

  "Indeed. Knox out."