Stryke was careful not to be seen staring at the place. "So what happened?"
"Seven of our comrades were in the area checking out a target. They got unlucky. The troopers took them without blood being spilt."
Stryke raised an eyebrow at that.
"We don't know how they came to be caught, except they were outnumbered."
"How come they're in this guards' station?"
"They couldn't be taken to a proper prison for fear of the crowd. We reckon they'll be kept in there until this blows over. Or until an escort arrives."
"Plenty of soldiers around as it is," Stryke said, scanning the scene.
"They'll have other things to think about soon." He chanced another quick peek at the guardhouse. "If we don't get them out they'll be at the mercy of Iron Hand's torturers. They're good patriots, and loyal, but they'll talk. And that could be a real blow for us."
Stryke nodded, then gave Brelan a nudge. Robed members of the Order of the Helix were weaving through the crowd. "Looks like we'll have more than military to deal with."
"Where's that human of yours?" Brelan wondered irritably.
"He's not mine. And he's — Hang on. There he is."
Pepperdyne came into sight. He was wearing the stolen officer's uniform that had served them well on previous missions. Coilla and two members of the Vixens were with him, walking a couple of paces behind, as though being led.
"The females should be shackled," Brelan said. "It'd look more convincing."
"Even Acurial's tame orcs might find that hard to swallow. Unless you want this crowd tearing him to pieces."
"Granted. Though I never thought I wouldn't want that to happen to a human. It's time to set things in motion, Stryke."
Stryke nodded, then raised a cupped hand to his mouth, as though stifling a cough. The other nearby Wolverines, watching for it, began passing the signal on. Brelan did the same with his resistance members. The unspoken order passed through the crowd.
Pepperdyne and his little entourage were making for the guardhouse. They met no open opposition on the way, but there were plenty of hostile stares and the odd shouted comment. That the females were following him with no sign of compulsion seemed to confuse the onlookers, and mollified many of them. In fact, their reflexive passivity, and the sense of obedience to authority that had been drummed into them, meant that most of the crowd cleared a path.
Pepperdyne kept his eyes firmly on the target and maintained an unhurried pace. The females in his wake ignored shouts directed at them.
The rebels stationed around the square knew to hold back until Pepperdyne's group had reached the guards' station. Shortly after that, they would act.
Pepperdyne and the others were coming to the crowd's outer edge, which like the rest of the perimeter ended at a thin line of soldiers. Behind them was an empty space in front of the guardhouse, perhaps thirty paces in depth.
Coilla moved closer to him and whispered, " Remember, you're an officer. Act like it."
" I never would have thought of that," he hissed sarcastically. "Now leave the talking to me."
She glared at his back.
The soldiers containing the crowd took Pepperdyne at face value. They saluted, and let him and the females through. The party of sentries at the guardhouse door seemed less sure. They were obviously surprised to see this unknown officer and his charges. They looked quizzical. All were noticeably tense.
As Pepperdyne and his retinue approached, one of the guards shouted, " Halt! "
The man who had spoken stepped forward, and after a second's hesitation offered a perfunctory salute. He was short and wiry, with a pencil-line moustache and features that reminded Pepperdyne of a rodent. The stripes he wore showed his rank as that of sergeant.
Pepperdyne returned the salute in a languid fashion he hoped was fitting to his supposed status. He was about to speak.
"Can I help you… sir?" the sergeant got in first. There was a tinge of scepticism in his manner.
Pepperdyne adopted an authoritative tone. "I've got three more detainees to join the ones you're holding."
"I've had no orders to that effect."
"I'm ordering you now."
"On what authority?"
"By the authority of my rank. And you'd do well to address a superior officer in the proper fashion."
"Yes, sir," the sergeant replied, but it was cursory, almost insolent. "However, my brief's strict. I'm to take no prisoners here without official say-so. That means a direct order from an immediate superior or written authorisation from — "
Pepperdyne pointed at the crowd. "We have a situation here, Sergeant," he blustered, "in case you hadn't noticed. Sticking to the rules does you credit, but things are moving fast on these streets. These captives are linked to the rebels and they need locking up."
"So why aren't they restrained, sir?"
"Are you implying that I can't control a few females, Sergeant?"
"I wouldn't know about that, sir."
"I'm getting tired of this. Are you going to obey my order and take these prisoners?"
"If I have the proper authority."
"Which I'm giving you."
"Your name and division. Sir."
Pepperdyne stared at the unsmiling pedant. "What?"
"To check your credentials. I'll have to send a runner to HQ and — "
"You should know that I act under the direct mandate of General Hacher himself. I don't envy your position when he hears about this."
"That may be so, sir. But we've had reports of bogus officials. It's my duty to verify the credentials of any… officer presenting themselves at this station." He was maddeningly cool.
"Are you questioning my patriotism?"
"That's not my place, sir."
"Don't you care that apart from your insubordination, your worship of the rulebook's stopping me from carrying out my duties? That's a serious step for somebody in your position, Sergeant."
"My commanding officers would be the best judge of that, sir."
"Of which I'm one!"
"Perhaps it would help if I went through it again, sir. Once you give me your name and — "
Pepperdyne capped his rising tension by maintaining a stern face. He saw that the other soldiers were eyeing him with something close to hostility. He was aware of Coilla shifting uncomfortably behind him.
From their vantage point, Stryke and Brelan were growing restive too.
"What the hell's going on?" Brelan muttered. "He should have got them to open that door by now."
"Maybe we've pulled this trick once too often."
"What do we do?"
"Stick to plan. Be ready to give the signal."
Pepperdyne made a show of listening as the sergeant spouted regulations, but his mind was on contingencies. And his hand was drifting towards his scabbard.
"So if you'd care to give me those details, sir," the sergeant concluded, "we can clear this up."
"Eh?"
"Your details, sir. As I explained."
"Look, if you're going to persist in — "
"Oh for fuck's sake." Coilla came out from behind Pepperdyne and thrust a dagger into the sergeant's midriff.
He looked down at it dumbly, swayed, then fell.
" Shit! " Pepperdyne said. "What the hell, Coilla?"
"Just moving things along." She swiftly drew her hidden sword. The pair of Vixens did the same, and so did Pepperdyne.
The other guards, stunned into immobility for a second, now raised their own weapons and closed in.
"That did it!" Brelan exclaimed from his place at the crowd's edge.
"Signal!" Stryke bellowed.
Any thought of concealment gone, they began frantically gesticulating at their confederates. As the order rapidly spread, Stryke and Brelan started forcibly elbowing their way towards the guardhouse.
Pepperdyne and the females fell into a defensive semicircle, their blades jutting like a predator's fangs. They gambled that their backs were safe. The nearest in the crowd, who had seen what happened, were reacting. So had some of the guards keeping them in check, but they were torn between joining in and holding the line.