‘Sir,’ says Neen. ‘Can I talk freely?’
‘As long as it’s not about the colonel.’
Our next stop is a rock overhanging the valley, with our camp far below and a glimpse of the sea beyond. All of Hekati’s rivers lead to that sea. Back in the day, there were obviously dozens of the things. Most of the river beds we meet now are little more than damp gravel or cracking mud.
Seven million people once lived here. Now Hekati’s a back-water so far out of touch that other backwaters regard it with contempt.
Ideal place to hide something, I think.
There is more to this mission than a missing U/Free and some sickly prospectors, a bunch of Silver Fist and two dead mercenaries. I just know it. All I need to do is work out exactly . . .
‘Sir,’ says Neen. ‘Are you all right?’
A sixth sense prickles the back of my neck, and my body floods with adrenalin as the kyp flexes in my throat. My body does other stuff that makes little sense, like slowing my heartbeat and heightening my hearing. It’s an animal thing.
‘Prey?’ whispers Neen.
‘Hunters.’
When I draw my gun, the load-and-lock diode is lit, the sights have ranged themselves to a hundred paces and the SIG has set itself for hollow-point.
‘You knew?’
‘Oh,’ says the SIG. ‘Now he decides to talk to me.’
As ordered, Neen goes first. He finds a ditch and crawls along it until he crosses the wildcat’s track we found earlier and follows that for fifty paces. I’m right behind him, and slam my hand over his mouth the moment he stops.
‘Quiet.’
He is not nearly scared enough for what’s making its way towards us. Unholstering the SIG, I drop out its clip, count ceramics and fold my fingers round the handle to deaden the noise as the clip slots back into place.
Seeing me do this, Neen checks his own rifle.
He has eighty to a clip, another hundred hanging from his belt. I would swap both the SIG and his rifle for a single moly-coated bullet and thirty seconds with Rachel’s sniper rifle. Obviously, I don’t say this. The SIG can sulk for days.
‘Ready?’
My gun sighs. ‘Always.’
‘Single shot . . .’
Diodes whirr, although it has the sense to damp them. Somewhere the SIG has settings for mute. It must, all intelligent guns do. I’ve yet to find them.
The rocks ahead have that flat quality hot landscape gets when the sun is directly above and unfiltered by cloud. And I know Hekati’s sun is reflected, that dawn and dusk are tricks created with mist and mirrors. But the people who design these places are good, and thinking too much about that stuff fucks you up. So I don’t.
‘Field-glasses.’
Neen hands them over.
Takes me three seconds to find what I know is out there. ‘Take a look,’ I say, passing the glasses back. ‘And don’t let light reflect on the lens.’
‘Oh fuck,’ he says. ‘That means . . .’
It means two mercenaries took down a platoon of Silver Fist, destroyed a copter and took out two braids. There is no doubt about that last bit. Because each has a severed head hanging from his belt.
One braid has three metal snakes, the other five. That’s a major and a full colonel in our world. Also, the mercenaries seem to have helped themselves to a collection of Silver Fist weapons.
When Neen raises his rifle, I say, ‘Let them pass.’
He shuts his mouth and does what he’s told.
I have my reasons. Either those two are the world’s best trackers or they have a fix on something. And my guess is it’s Haze.
‘OK,’ I say, a few minutes later. ‘Now we follow.’
As said, I can read the sound of gunfire. This one begins with a burst from Franc. Has to be Franc because she is the one we left standing guard. A clip burns in answer. So the mercenaries have enough ammunition not to worry about wasting it. A second clip burns just as fast. This means they didn’t hit Franc first time round.
I can count every single one in the Aux fire in reply.
‘What about Colonel Vijay?’ says Neen, when I tell him this.
Yeah, that’s true. They might have hit the colonel, but I doubt it. No way are we getting that lucky. Rachel is firing single shots. And probably doing more to pin the enemy down than the rest put together.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Let’s get down there.’
The grass in front of our base is on fire.
Leaves shrivel on bushes, the air stinks from cordite, and whatever animals once made nests in that grass. One mercenary is in the open. The other covers him from behind a low wall. The one in the open uses his rifle to shred stone chippings from the hut.
Anything that wastes their ammunition is fine with me.
The Aux falling back makes sense in one way. The hut has thick walls and narrow windows. Of course, the lack of a door is not great. But, so far, the mercenaries don’t know about that, because they’ve approached from the other side.
In another way, it’s fucking stupid.
The building has no roof. One well-positioned grenade and my troopers are going to be decorating the inside walls. I send Neen round behind a tree. Then, when he is in position, signal him to cover me.
Rising from a crouch, he does.
As Neen opens fire, Franc sticks her own gun around the window and hoses down everything in sight. Her clip burns out in a single blip. Another muzzle appears in the same space and burns out two blips later. So Shil must be changing clips.
How much ammunition do they think they have?
Can’t see Rachel, but that is Rachel for you. She’ll use one bullet to everyone else’s hundred and probably make the only shot that really matters.
And just as I think where’s Haze? a grenade rises from inside, bounces off a strip of roof tiles on its way down and lands at the feet of the nearer mercenary. Hard to know if Haze is an idiot or simply inspired. Perhaps both.
Two paces take me into the open . . .
Caught by the unexpected, the mercenary turns.
So I hit the ground and Haze’s grenade explodes. Needn’t have bothered about hitting the ground. A fair bit of the shrapnel never gets further than my target.
Of course, he’s in armour.
I’m not. All the same, he goes down.
And I scrabble up, praying all the while that Neen is keeping the other mercenary busy. He is. So I stamp on the helmet of the one at my feet, twice. He has a grenade of his own. It seems a pity to waste it.
‘Down,’ I shout, pulling the pin.
Neen ducks behind his tree as I begin to count.
As the other mercenary spins, I reach three and drop into a ditch myself, lobbing the grenade towards him. He tries to kick it away, misses and by then it is too late anyway. The explosion knocks him off his feet and throws him into a wall.
He’s in full armour, obviously. But it’s still enough to stun him. A hollow-point direct into his chest kicks him back when he tries to stand. His armour cracks, but the ceramic holds. We are talking quality stuff.
Gripping his head, I twist until his helmet can go no further. It’s an internal lock, not his spine, that stops me. Although I’m sure I can get round that.
‘Sven,’ says my gun.
‘Now what?’
‘Don’t you even want to know why they’re here?’
‘Not really.’
The SIG-37 sighs. ‘Far be it for me . . .’
We go through what is left of their ammunition. Some hollow-point, two clips of full metal, three sticky mines, a couple more grenades, and a sweetly balanced blade. I had been hoping for more.
‘Peel them,’ I tell Neen. ‘Call me when you’re done.’
Chapter 20
Haze has his back to the hut wall, a cloth wrapped round his head. He’s swallowing blood rather than spitting, so he must know how badly those nosebleeds of his irritate me.