by Cary Caffrey
Nuria flipped off the safeties, allowing Sigrid's PCM to interface directly with the weapons.
Next came the grenades. A full complement of flashbangs, concussion and fragmentation grenades was prepared—one hundred and twenty-eight of them in all. The largest of the explosives was no bigger than a pea, while the smallest would fit on the head of a pin. Nuria fixed these to her gun belt as well as to the harness strapped around her shoulders. More blades were fitted to the clips in her boots, while two sheaths of deadly shuriken were strapped to her forearms.
To finish the ensemble, Nuria brought out a gleaming steel ōdachi, a Japanese longsword. This, she presented to Sigrid, holding it before her. The scabbard was a work of art, hand carved and lacquered, but it only hinted at the mastery of the craftsmanship within. Grasping the hilt, Sigrid drew the long blade slowly out, gasping at the shining hand-folded steel. It was magnificent.
"Nuria?"
"Yes, Lady Novak."
"I think you better call me Sigrid."
"Yes, Lady Sigrid."
So transfixed was she with the blade, she didn't notice the door chime—not until Nuria prodded her.
"Colonel Bhandari to see you."
"Hmm?"
"The colonel, Lady Sigrid. He's here to take you to the briefing."
"Oh, of course. Thank you, Nuria. I'll be right there."
Walking from her bedroom, Sigrid found Colonel Bhandari waiting for her in the doorway. He had his cap tucked neatly under his arm. Two privates, a man and a woman, in full combat gear stood at his sides. And while he might be a stone-faced paragon of military discipline, Sigrid was certain she caught the slightest note of approval in his eyes as he scanned her in her new combat kit.
Sigrid stepped up to him, snapping a sharp salute.
"Nuria said something about a briefing? Would you like some tea? Nuria—"
"I am to take you to Operations," the colonel said. "The magistrate will brief you herself."
Sigrid turned to him, somewhat surprised. "You didn't need to come all the way down here to tell me that, Colonel. You could have sent your men."
"Lady Van de Berg wished that I should escort you. Personally."
"She worried I won't come on my own?"
The colonel didn't answer, just stared back at her with his now familiar stony glare.
"All right. Lead on. I'll be back in time for supper, Nuria."
"Oh, no," Nuria said, stepping forward. "The magistrate was most specific: I am to accompany you to all engagements."
Sigrid sighed. "Of course she did. Well, don't dawdle, then. Hurry along."
~ - ~
Leaving the magistrate's villa, Sigrid found herself greeted by a torrential downpour. The rains had forever plagued the region and had done so for the last two hundred years. With a great clap of thunder, the skies erupted, vomiting out a tremendous amount of water.
"Nice day for it," Sigrid said, holding out her hand and letting the water splash in her palm. Not one for small talk, Colonel Bhandari merely grunted as he headed out across the compound. His rain-soaked black hair stood up in short, razor-sharp spikes. If the soaking bothered him, he didn't show it. He walked in silence, each of his purposeful strides executed with robotic precision.
Sigrid leapt over a puddle, hurrying to keep up. "You don't like me, do you?"
"Ms. Novak, I promise you, I have no feelings regarding you personally whatsoever."
"Perhaps. Yet I can't help get the impression you'd prefer that I hadn't shown up here."
"Your presence is a liability, whether from acts of violence executed by yourself or by others, it makes no difference. As long as you are here, we are all of us in danger."
"I'm not a bomb, Colonel. You can't just light the fuse and set me off."
Colonel Bhandari flashed her a sideways glance. "That remains to be seen."
The rain that came on so suddenly was easing now, though it left behind several deep puddles. Rivers of filthy water rushed through the gutters, threatening to overwhelm the storm drains.
They were crossing the main thoroughfare and heading toward the Operations building when Sigrid heard the first rumblings—not of machines or distant thunder, but from people. A lot of people. The colonel must have heard it too, for he quickened his pace. They came around the corner of the command and control complex to find a large and unruly mob forming in the street outside. They were shouting at the guards and pushing against them, demanding to be let inside.
Sigrid's eyes widened as she saw Jaffer at the front of the pack—and leading the protest, apparently. Marta and Angel were with him. Tomás had his forefinger thrust into the chest of the lead security officer, pushing her backward. Jaffer was doing his best to pull him off of her, but it was a losing battle. Tomás's outrage was threatening to boil over, riling the mob into a greater frenzy.
Sigrid pushed her way through the crowd, doing her best not to be trampled. Jaffer did an impressive double take as he saw her in her brand new, if dripping-wet, combat fatigues and full weapons kit. The distraction was only momentary though as Tomás was back in the face of the embattled security woman.
"You can't do this. We demand to see the magistrate!"
"Calm yourself, sir," the security woman said. "For your own sake. I will use this," she added with a nod to the powerful Taser slung at her hip.
"What the hell's going on?" Sigrid said. "Jaffer, what's happened?"
"It's this bloody lockdown," Jaffer said. "Security's confiscated our rigs. Cargo, trucks—everything! They've got it all sealed up in the paddock and they won't let anyone in."
"That's my transport you got in there, fuckwits," Marta shouted. Then she turned to Jaffer, and Sigrid saw the frustration in her eyes. "Goddamn it, I just put down four thousand on the principal, too."
"Only $249,000 to go," Angel added.
"Fuck you, Angel. They got no right!"
The security officer was holding up her hands for calm, though to little avail. To her credit, what with all the fury being hurled her way, Sigrid thought she was doing a tremendous job at keeping a cool face. "All transportation assets have been seized by law under the emergency-measures act. Any grievances you have can be taken up with your local representative. Now, if you don't clear this area, we'll have no choice but to place you all under arrest."
"And what about our cargo?" Marta said.
"All grievances must be—"
"Taken up with our local, blah, blah. Yeah, we got that the third time you said that."
"Colonel?" Sigrid said. "Did you know about this?"
The colonel stiffened at the question. "The temporary seizure of assets is a matter of contract law, Ms. Novak. It is permitted—should certain circumstances arise."
"Circumstances?" Jaffer said. "What circumstances?"
Before he could answer, the doors burst open to reveal Franco Alvarez standing in the entrance.
"Ah, Ms. Novak. Right on time. Make way! Make way!"
The security officers did the best to push the truckers and their crews back, creating a space for the colonel and Sigrid.
"Don't worry," Sigrid said to Jaffer. "I'll get to the bottom of this."
"No need," Franco said. "The magistrate wishes to see all of you."
"Us?" Jaffer said. "All of us?"
"But of course! You are the four heroes, after all. Saviors of the Crossroads!"
Sigrid stood staring at the port master, with her hands on her hips. Saviors? Even for him, Franco was putting it on thick.
"Maybe we're getting a reward?" Angel said.
"Right," Jaffer said. "And seizing our rigs is just their way of saying thank you. Come on. Let's go find out what she wants."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Operations
The corridors of the Operations Center were crowded with soldiers. They all scurried aside as they saw the port master and Colonel Bhandari approaching, though it was Sigrid who had their full attention. She heard the muted whispers as she walked past. Word o
f her presence—along with who and what she was—was beginning to spread.
It wasn't just the soldiers staring either. Jaffer kept shooting curious glances her way.
"It's the outfit, isn't it?" Sigrid said. "I get that."
Franco led them up a flight of stairs past a series of offices. The noise of women and men working and talking spiritedly filled the halls. These weren't the usual sounds of a city planning office, but a military base on high alert.
A set of double doors opened ahead. Two soldiers saluted the colonel as they passed.
Franco Alvarez paused by the doors to allow Sigrid to enter first. "Welcome to Operations, the heart of the Consortium."
Sigrid took in the room, impressive for such a small trading post. High-ceilinged and wide, the room was filled with bureaucrats, support personnel and mercenaries alike. Women and men tended their workstations, staring intently at their glowing holo-monitors as they directed everything from cargo traffic to security details and troop movements. It was the perfect melding of commerce and combat readiness.
A long conference table sat at the heart of the op-center. Six seats sat waiting, enough for her, the colonel and the four transport drivers. In front of each chair, a data-pad sat blinking and waiting.
Sigrid picked up the one labeled for her and swiped the seal. She wasn't surprised to find her own pictures on display, hers, along with the glowing images of Lars Koenig, the marquis di Valparaíso. But perhaps more curiously, pictures and dossiers of Jaffer and the other drivers were also featured. Sigrid frowned her displeasure; whatever was about to happen, it seemed she'd managed to drag Jaffer and his friends into it.
Blast it.
Switching it off, she tossed it back onto the table, though not before Jaffer saw it too.
"Sigrid, what the hell's going on?"
"Jaffer, we need to talk. There's something you need to know."
"Sweetheart, not one good conversation ever started with 'we need to talk'?"
"Please, Jaffer. I'm serious. The night you picked me up, I wasn't running from—"
Just then, Lady Godelieve Van de Berg, the magistrate of the Consortium, entered and strode directly to the head of the table.
"Thank you all for coming. Please, sit." They did so, shuffling into their seats. "First, you must allow me to express my thanks, not only for defending the Crossroads against incursion, but for saving the life of my daughter. If not for the brave actions of the five of you, my daughter would be lost. For that, you have my sincerest thanks."
"So we are getting a reward?" Angel asked.
The magistrate smiled, though she didn't answer. Instead, she raised a remote in her hand and pointed it at the large picture window behind her. With a click of her finger, the lights dimmed and the window became opaque, quickly transforming into a viewing monitor. Across its surface Sigrid saw what was becoming a familiar face.
"Lars Koenig," the magistrate said, moving to stand by the twelve-foot-high image. "The marquis di Valparaíso and current head of the Cabal, the largest pharmaceutical collective in the southern hemisphere. This is the man you saved my daughter from. Considering what I am about to ask of you, I thought it important that you should know."
"Marquis di what-what?" Marta blurted. "That's no marquis, Magistrate. That's Lars!"
"You know him?" Sigrid asked.
Tomás leaned over to her, though he didn't take his eyes from the image. "He's a con artist. A crook. There isn't a cargo jockey south of the Amazon basin he hasn't tried to rip off."
"The creep still owes me five thousand bucks," Marta said, rasping her knuckles.
Ignoring them, Jaffer cleared his throat. "Magistrate, you just said something about asking us something? Your daughter's safe. Sigrid saved her. It's over."
"If only that were true. While you may have prevented her abduction, Mr. Talamantez, I'm afraid my daughter remains very much in danger. That is why I have asked you here. It is my hope that I might engage your services once more."
"Services?" Tomás said. "You mean, hire us?"
"She wants us to break his legs," Angel said.
"I'm in!" Marta said, raising her hand.
"Actually, Ms. Kalivoda, I had something more permanent in mind. As of this morning I have ordered the termination of the marquis. It is my sincere hope that you will aid me in this endeavor. If you do, I will agree to pay you one million in adjusted Federated dollars. Each."
"Jesus!" Angel said.
Even Marta sat upright. "Holy shit."
"You will find the details of the contract outlined on the pads before you."
One by one, the truckers opened their pads, swiping the seals to stare, gaping, at the glowing screens. Only Jaffer appeared unmoved. "Magistrate, you said one million each, but I don't see anything here for Sigrid."
"Ms. Novak and I have already reached an arrangement. In exchange for her services, I have agreed to see her safely home." Then she turned to Sigrid. "Or to provide for her here, should she decide to remain and serve as Lady Protector of the Free Southern Territories. The choice remains hers."
"Lady Protector?" Jaffer turned to her. "Sigrid? You agreed to this?"
Sigrid shook her head. Blast, if this whole thing wasn't spiraling out of control! "Jaffer—I was going to tell you. I meant to—"
"So," Angel said, ignoring the two of them, "what's the op?"
"Hang on," Jaffer said, silencing him. "Wait a minute. If this is what I think it is, Magistrate, this isn't just a military operation you're proposing. This is wetwork. Assassination. We're not mercenaries. We're transport drivers."
"But you were military once. All of you. You, Ms. Kalivoda," she said to Marta, "your service record was most impressive—rising to the rank of chief petty officer, no less. Your friend Tomás here was gunnery sergeant. Three tours, was it?"
"Four," Tomás said.
"Four. Of course. Forgive me."
Jaffer jabbed a thumb over his shoulder behind him. "Any one of those mercenaries you've got out there would be happy to take this contract, Magistrate. You don't need us."
"Those mercenaries might be fine when it comes to guarding my grain silos, Mr. Talamantez, but I would hardly trust them with an operation as sensitive as this."
"But you would trust us?"
"Your record speaks for itself. Twice decorated for gallantry under fire—the Grey Cross! You served with great distinction. And you delivered Ms. Novak here well enough—even though you knew she was a wanted woman. You could have turned her in at any moment. Yet you didn't. Instead, you were willing to risk fines—even incarceration. That speaks of trust, loyalty; that is the kind of trust for which I am willing to pay. Will you help me, Mr. Talamantez? If not for the Crossroads or for my daughter, then for Ms. Novak?"
"Jaffer," Sigrid said, "you don't have to do this. None of you do."
"I do!" Angel said. "For one million, you bet I do."
"You don't even know what the op is," Marta said.
"It's an op that pays one freaking million! I say we hear the lady out."
The magistrate turned from Angel to look expectantly at Jaffer, as if waiting for permission to continue. The big trucker shrugged, holding his palms open and wide. "It's your briefing, Magistrate."
Sigrid turned to him, whispering, "Jaffer! This isn't what you think. You don't know what you're getting into."
He put a calming hand on her arm. "We're just here to listen. Don't worry, kid."
"Excellent," the magistrate said. "Colonel? The floor is yours."
Colonel Bhandari, who had been standing quietly to the side, turned to the monitor. With a wave of his hand the image of Lars Koenig vanished. In its place sprang an extraordinarily detailed satellite image of western South America. All in real time, of course. Sigrid saw the puffs of white clouds floating high above the Andes Mountains, even bits of satellite debris drifting through the thermosphere.
Drawing his arms wide, the colonel zoomed in. High in the snowcapped mountains east of Santi
ago, a bright red dot blinked for their attention.
"They call it the Crow's Nest," he said, zooming in. "It's one of the old corporate enclaves abandoned after the rebellion. The marquis has established his base of operations here."
Sigrid recognized it for what it was instantly. All corporate enclaves were built following the same pattern. High walls formed a fortress-like perimeter. Inside, isolated and protected from the masses of the indentured working poor, sat hundreds of villas and estates, along with enough military barracks and facilities to house the security forces charged with guarding Earth's ruling elite.
"It's hardly a military stronghold," Tomás said. "Looks more like a resort. Why not just drop a few bombs over the entire area and be done with it?"
"The thought had occurred to us," the colonel said, irritated at the interruption. "Normally we'd consider an orbital drop insertion. But even if we had the manpower, orbital access is restricted. CTF traffic only."
"What about a ground assault?" Marta asked. "It wouldn't take much to breach those walls."
"True. The Crow's Nest isn't fortified, but the high mountain location makes it particularly defensible. Any force we send will be seen coming long before they can get within effective range."
"And therein lies the rub," the magistrate said. "I can't afford to have the marquis fleeing in the face of an attack. If he runs, we are sure to lose him. It is imperative our first strike be precise."
"Transports," Tomás said. "That's why you need us. No one would look twice at a convoy of cargo carriers."
Jaffer gave a grunt. "Not just transports. Free contractors. We're not affiliated with the CTF, the Independents—not even the Consortium."
The magistrate nodded her approval. "The marquis's expansion has not come without a price. They need fuel, weapons, food. They've been pulling in supplies from wherever they can. Four days ago, we intercepted a shipment of refined thorium bound for Portillo. Their war machine needs power. As you can imagine, they will be very eager to get their hands on that. I want you to take over that contract."
