Hands shaking and teeth chattering, he fumbled Hsingyun’s mine detector out of a pocket. Peering across the ice, he felt a surge of overwhelming relief when he saw the ’copter was still exactly where they had left it. He tried to estimate how long it would take him to work his way past the minefield, and how long it would take the men chasing him to catch up. Then he decided to think of something else.
Hsingyun, he remembered, had pressed a red button . . . here.
Ah, thought Saul, as a screen blinked into life on the device, accompanied by a beep. He saw a grid of dots appear on the screen, a blinking zigzag line superimposed over it. A circle at the centre of the grid clearly represented the dome.
He walked a few metres forward, and the zigzag line began to blink faster, finally changing colour as he found himself standing almost directly on top of a buried mine, its dark shape visible just millimetres beneath the ice.
Still grasping the Koch in his other hand, he stepped forward, half convinced he was about to get blown to bits – but nothing happened. He walked faster, then began to run, stopping only when the screen began to blink again.
Hearing shouts from behind, he turned and fired in the direction of the dome, but wide of the mark. Two figures that had just emerged from the dome’s entrance ducked back inside.
It occurred to Saul that if one of his pursuers thought to shoot at the mines to either side of him, that it might just set them off. He crouched low as he ran, filled with an overwhelming sense of urgency, keenly aware of just how good a target his dark suit made him against the ice.
More shots came, and Saul stumbled forward, landing on his knees. For a moment he thought he’d only slipped on the ice, then realized with numb shock that he had been hit in the shoulder. He twisted around, raised the pistol and once again fired towards the dome, but his hands were shaking too badly for him to be able to take proper aim.
Get to the ’copter, you fucking idiot.
T worst thing – the nasty thing – about pykrete bullets was that they melted, leaving a mass of difficult-to-extract and potentially poisonous cellulose fibres buried deep in the tissue of your body. You didn’t need a fatal wound to be in serious trouble.
He pushed himself back upright, ignoring a sudden spell of dizziness that threatened to overcome him. He checked the screen on Hsingyun’s gadget: all he had to do was move three mines to the right, and then it was a straight run all the way to the ’copter.
He glanced back once again, as he loped towards the aircraft, and heard something whine past his ear. He could just make out one of the white-suited men, his head appearing to float above the ice like a ghost, kneeling as he readied for another shot. Saul stopped and took a two-handed grip on the pistol, holding it steady just long enough to empty the rest of its chamber in the direction of his assailant.
He was rewarded by the sight of ice and snow kicking up a flurry directly in front of his target. It wasn’t a direct hit, but his assailant leaped up and darted to one side.
Which turned out to be a bad move. The ice erupted beneath him, and the sound of the accompanying detonation echoed across the flat expanse of the ice-pharm like a peal of thunder, before staining the ice red.
Saul knew it was now or never. He tried to change his grip on the Koch but realized the sheer cold had welded it to the skin of one hand. He turned and ran as fast and as hard as he could, praying he was far away enough now from the dome that the lone remaining gunman would have a hard time taking proper aim. One bullet pinged off the carapace of the aircraft as Saul pulled himself inside it.
‘Police emergency override 256,’ he gasped, collapsing back across the seat as the door automatically slid shut. ‘Officer Dumont, department code six nine zero slash alpha. Take off now.’
‘Please be aware that any attempts to gain control of this craft by the use of illegally acquired overrides may be punishable in a court of law by a fine or a possible jail sentence,’ the ’copter replied, in a smooth tone. ‘If you wish to confirm, please—’
‘Confirmed!’ Saul screamed, realizing that the slick dampness beneath him was his own blood, pouring out of his shoulder wound. ‘Just fucking do it!’ he screamed.
The rotors quickly built up to a high-pitched whine and, as it lifted, the ’copter angled to one side, showing him the flat landscape of the station beneath. One or two faint sparks of light from the direction of the dome told him somebody was still trying to shoot him down.
‘My systems suggest you may be injured,’ the ’copter continued, its tone blandly untroubled. ‘Are you in need of any medical assistance?’
‘Yes, I am,’ Saul replied weakly, aware that dawn was already spreading pale fingers across the sky. ‘I need to get to a hospital.’
He could still feel the Koch cold and hard against his fingers and palm. The ’copter dipped again as it angled across the sky, and Saul felt like he was falling into a grey blank eternity that swallowed up the last of his thoughts, as he finally slipped into unconsciousness.
FOUR
Florida Array Exclusion Zone, East Coast Republic, 18 January 2235
The road stretched ahead, a black asphalt line dividing the world in two, with the APC carrying the rest of the squadron just a couple of dozen metres ahead of him. Monk leaned forward to peer up, past the curve of the truck’s windshield, at black clouds incipient with rain.
He sat back, shifted his grip on the steering wheel and glanced to his side. Naz had placed his taser attachment and extra magazines of ammo on the upper part of the dashboard while he checked and rechecked his Cobra, snapping open the feed assembly and pushing two fingers inside.
Monk studied him with a growing sense of irritation, before turning back to the road. Small drops of moisture landed on the glass, while a sudden wind stirred the tops of the trees lining the ditches on either side of the road.
‘Eyes on the road, Sergeant,’ Naz muttered without looking up.
Insubordinate son of a bitch, thought Monk.
The clouds finally broke and gusts of rain billowed across the expressway. Monk caught a glimpse of a sign telling him that Orlando was fifty kilometres away.
‘How many times have you already checked that damn thing?’ Monk demanded, but Naz only grinned as he snapped the feed assembly shut once more and started to reattach the taser just under the Cobra’s barrel. The Faraday mesh, wrapped around the weapon’s targeting systems, glittered softly.
‘Not enough times, Sergeant,’ Naz replied. ‘Knew a guy back in the day got blown to shit when his gun jammed. Ain’t gonna let the same thing happen to me.’ He slid a magazine into place, studying the weapon with the kind of fascinated admiration that most men Monk knew saved for Orlando’s strip clubs.
‘Islamabad?’ asked Monk.
Another sign, so badly rusted that he could barely make out the words, told him they were coming up on what had been a marsh conservation area. Not that anybody bothered with that kind of thing any more; he checked the local network through his contacts and saw nothing about anything getting conserved. The bushes and cypresses lining the road looked wild and unkempt. The traffic was light: most vehicles on the road this close to the Florida Array were either army or supplies, although they had also passed a few private cars belonging to Array staff.
‘Wasn’t the war, Sergeant,’ Naz replied, settling back to scan the horizon. ‘Was back in LA. Dumb shithead I knew got caught th a house full of pharm goods, and thought he could shoot his way out when the cops turned up on his doorstep. His gun had a systems failure ’cause he didn’t take proper care of it. Had a white coffin at his funeral. Priest in white, wife in white, all three girlfriends and his favourite whore in white. Tackiest shit I’ve seen in my whole life.’