Miranda's Demons

by Ian Miller

  "Finished?" came a female voice.

  Streckov spun around to see four people. One was Marisa Robeiro, who was looking a little amused, if slightly bored, the second was that upstart Kazakh colonel, who clearly needed to be taken down a number of pegs, the third was that stupid American woman Hanson, who was looking quite nervous, and rightly so, and the fourth was a soldier, who had a gun pointed towards him.

  "You're very well dressed for your first battle," Abdullin remarked. "You look more as if you were out to charm the ladies."

  "Not that it'd work," Marisa shook her head. "I'm sorry to inform you, General, but I think it's a waste of time. What about you, Beth?"

  Beth's eyes glanced nervously around, but she said nothing.

  "What the hell are you doing in here?" Streckov demanded. "Get out of here immediately or I'll have you all court-martialled."

  "I'm relieving you of command," Marisa replied simply. "On the orders of Gaius Claudius Scaevola, who is overall military commander of all Defence field operations –"

  "He resigned!" Streckov spluttered.

  "Wrong," Marisa smiled. "He was going to, but as you may remember he was physically prevented from doing so, hence he still retains that commission. So his orders take precedence over any others. As I was about to say, I am to take full control of this operation."

  "But you're only a –""

  "I have been appointed Tribuna laticlavia," Marisa smiled triumphantly. "I gather I am the first one ever, and I have the authority to apply full Roman military law. You will perhaps appreciate what that means. Since you are not a Roman citizen, failure to fully comply with all orders, in their full spirit, will lead to your execution by crucifixion. Do you understand that?"

  "She can't do that!" Streckov almost squeaked.

  "I'm afraid she can," Abdullin shrugged. "Only the Commissioner can over-ride his orders, and as you know, she's dead."

  "That's right," Streckov said slowly, his eyes turning craftily as the dawn of an idea began to strike. "As the senior Russian regular officer, that makes me Commissioner designate, and that means –"

  "That means nothing," Marisa flared. "Don't even think about it! You're not designated by anybody."

  "Soldier!" Streckov said, pulling himself to his full height to look as imposing as he could towards the fourth member of the party. "As the senior Defence officer present, I order you to arrest these other three."

  The soldier looked bewildered, but the gun, following an initial falter, remained trained on Streckov.

  "Soldier!" Streckov said harshly, but uncertainty caused his voice to falter slightly. "Do as you're ordered."

  "He is doing that," Marisa said drily. "The question is, will you?"

  "Soldier! Your name! I'll –"

  Streckov stepped back in shock and disbelief as he wiped the blood from his cheek. Marisa stood angrily before him, the riding whip in hand. "General Streckov," she said in a roar that was barely louder than a whisper, "you will order your commanders to the briefing room. Do it or be crucified! Now!"

  Streckov stared at her, his mind visibly racing. Marisa took another pace forwards, and again raised the whip. Streckov suddenly wilted. He slumped into a chair, picked up a communicator, and gave the order. He replaced the communicator and stared wistfully at the table.

  "Very good," Marisa remarked."

  "What will happen now?" Streckov asked in almost a childish whimper, as he stared upwards at Marisa. All the fire had deserted him as he sat, slumped in the chair, a frightened and saddened remnant.

  "Your commanders will be returned to barracks," Marisa shrugged, "as will the tank crews. Crews who are prepared to do the job nominated by Justice will replace them. And you can cheer up. You'll have a few ceremonial tasks, then you can gracefully retire. Believe me, general, this is not a bad outcome for you, and one far better than you deserve."

  "Munro'll have me killed," Streckov said resignedly.

  "I doubt it," Marisa smiled confidently.

  * * *

  "Phase one complete," Harry nodded to his men, as the firing died down and the questioning had abated. "Let's start phase two. You've all heard the order not to fire in the direction of another weapons nest. If we cross in more or less a straight line we should be home clear. Any time now, Garrett's forces will arrive, as will Defence's. So, assemble these gliders and get ready to cross."

  Men scurried about in a seemingly chaotic fashion, but within minutes a row of hang gliders, each with a small emergency rocket, were lined up against the side of the roof.

  "Good work," Harry nodded. "Now, we have two tasks. First we secure the roof of the Munro building, then we commence a conventional attack downwards. Now, a small force has already overpowered the gunners, and by the time we get there they will have already secretly entered the building. Our job is not to take the building, but rather to be seen to be trying, so don't worry about being noisy once we're there. Our second task is to use the weapons systems we capture to knock out what remains of the lower weapons on the other buildings, to give protection to the ground forces.

  "Now, initially the opposition expects Streckov's tanks to wipe out the Justice force, and since they're going to do it by a sneak attack, there probably won't be orders to attack from above. If Captain Robeiro's skilful, the forces will only meet by the time they get to the Munro building, so with a bit of luck, in the confusion, most of the forces can enter the building before you get any orders to fire. Most likely you gunners won't have to do anything, except maintain as much confusion for Munro as possible. It is," Harry smiled to himself, "rather satisfying to totally turn treachery onto itself."

  "Party coming from the north, sir," came a report from the wall.

  "Another from the south," came another.

  "Estimate the distances," Harry ordered, "and transmit the required speeds to coordinate in front of the Munro's. Right men, now's the time to go. Follow me."

  * * *

  A dozen blackened gliders silently landed on the Munro roof. There was no opposition for the Munro troops had been laid down in a neat row against the eastern railing, unconscious. Harry immediately signalled for reinforcements, and a flight of larger aircraft appeared. The darkened hover vehicles glided in and discharged their cargos, but this time not so silently. The need for secrecy had passed; now the need was for the Munro's to recognize that they were under attack from above and below. A surrender now would avoid all further bloodshed. Harry turned on the device that would give the noises consistent with a skirmish being carried out on the roof, then he went to secure the communications gear to the Munro headquarters. One of the erstwhile defenders of the other building persuaded the operator to join their side, and Harry then had the authentic voice to send less than authentic messages.

  * * *

  Harvey Munro sat crouched at his desk, his eyes furtively studying the desk plan. "Why are Streckov's men coming from the opposite direction?" he scowled.

  "Because he took the other bridge," the second adjutant suggested.

  "I know that," Harvey scowled. "The question is, why? Didn't you coordinate his approach?" he asked, turning to Jennifer.

  "Of course."

  "Then why?"

  "I asked Streckov to try to come from the same direction as Garrett," Jennifer replied defensively. "If Garrett wasn't cooperative –"

  "If Garrett wasn't cooperative," Harvey's scowl deepened. "Jennifer, you haven't learned a thing! You don't wait for people to be cooperative. You make them be! That's what control's all about; forcing them to accept a situation of your making."

  "You can't always force people to do what you want," Jennifer protested sullenly.

  "Oh, Jennifer," Harvey replied, his eyes looking almost plaintively up at his niece. "You don't have to force people all the time. Cajole them, make them think it was their idea anyway!"

  "I tried."

  "I tried!" Harvey yelled in exasperation. "What an over-worn excuse! Look, this is not a sport. Trying is nothing
, winning is everything!"

  "What do you want me to do, sir?" the first adjutant asked. "They're going to meet outside the front door, and if we're going to fire on either or both of them, the order's got to come now."

  "Contact the roof!" Harvey ordered calmly. "Get an estimate of whether we've got the fire power to take out both groups."

  "You can't be serious!" Jennifer said. "If we fire on Streckov's men, they're against us."

  "Maybe they already are," Harvey shrugged. "They're coming from the only direction where we can't tell until it's too late. Doesn't that suggest something?"

  "It could be a simple mistake!"

  "In which case they can expect to pay for it."

  "The roof's under attack, sir!"

  "What?" Harvey shrieked. His fists clenched.

  "The other side's more organized than we hoped," Jennifer nodded.

  Harvey glared at her, then shook his head. "Yes," he said forcefully, "and that's because a certain somebody failed. I want an immediate report."

  "What do we do now?" Jennifer asked quietly.

  "We fight! We make those swine pay."

  "Perhaps we should retreat, while we still can," Jennifer offered. "Fight another day, in another place."

  "What a spineless woman!" Harvey snarled. "Run! With my blessing!"

  "It might be the only winning option," Jennifer protested. "If you're right, if Streckov's turned, and if the roof's gone, we've no real chance. We can't take on the world from inside this building!"

  "Jennifer, you traitor!" Harvey stared coldly at her. "You're no Munro. Get out of here. Run, but never come to a GenCorp building again. You are nothing."

  "Uncle Harvey! Please! Can't you see, you can't win from in here? Can't you –"

  "I am not your uncle. I will not tolerate behaviour such as yours from anyone. If you're not out of this room in two minutes, I shall kill you myself."

  Jennifer stared at Harvey, and saw a totally unyielding and pitiless expression. She appeared to be about to begin speaking again, then she thought better of it. "So be it," she said coldly, then she turned and left the room.

  "She'll be killed," the second adjutant shook his head sadly.

  "Most likely," Harvey said without expression. "There's no way out. How's the situation?"

  "You're right about the roof," the first adjutant said. "According to our men, there's quite a battle on the top floor. We're holding. Do you want us to fire on the street?"

  "No," Harvey said tiredly, "we probably haven't the firepower to do any good."

  "Do you want us to fire on Justice?"

  "No. Failure to fire on the obvious target, namely Streckov's tanks, would only alert everyone to Streckov's intentions, assuming he will keep them."

  "And if he won't?"

  "They'll be above and below us. Our men will prove themselves."

  "I hope so," the second adjutant muttered nervously.

  "They will," Harvey sneered, "because they know that, for them, there will be no retreat. There's nowhere to retreat to. But don't worry. As Jennifer is about to find out, there's more to this building than meets the eye."

  "You mean the barrier?"

  "What do you know about the barrier?" Harvey's eyes bore into him.

  "Not much," the man admitted, "but Jennifer does."

  "What do you mean?" came the cold harsh grating voice, a voice struggling for control.

  "Don't you know?" came the surprised voice.

  "What?" This time, an uncontrolled roar.

  "The M'starn pilot showed Jennifer how to operate the barrier," came the rapid explanation. The man was stunned by the intensity of Harvey's fury.

  "And you never told me?" Harvey shook his head. His face was now white, and he was shaking visibly. Then he regained control. "Get that small squad that's guarding the machinery for the kitchen elevator," he said at last. "Order them to stop Jennifer from reaching the barrier controls. They are to kill her on sight."

  "Yes sir," the other adjutant said, and immediately set about giving the orders.

  "And suppose someone uses that elevator?" the first adjutant asked cautiously.

  "We miss the chance to drop them thirty floors," Harvey said, shaking his head, "but they still can't cross the barrier. On the other hand, if that barrier goes, Jennifer is quite right. Then, we have no defence."

  Chapter 20

  "What a stinking filthy place," Elizabeth Garrett grumbled, as she followed the two children along a service tunnel under the pavement.

  Max Reiner laughed. "What'd you expect? It hasn't been cleaned out in centuries."

  "That doesn't make it any more pleasant," Elizabeth shuddered. Her shoes were full of this stinking water, and her trousers were clammily sticking to her legs, a continuous reminder of the undoubted yitch she was walking through.

  "Shshsh!" whispered one of the children. "There're sound detectors!"

  Elizabeth was about to curse, but she remained silent. The party continued to creep along the tunnel in the half-light of the few darkened torches. Elizabeth almost slipped. She put out a hand to grasp a ledge, and thought she heard something. She flashed a light at the ledge, to see a giant rat staring at her. She almost screamed, but somehow swallowed the urge. Infernal place! Once upon a time, she had thought it would be so wonderful to have an adventure. Now she was having one, the glamour had gone. This was filthy, wet, cold, dangerous, stinking, and infested. Worse, there was no guarantee she would even get out alive. Why was she doing it? Why was she continuing? The last question could be answered. She had got herself into this mess and she would have to go through with it. If she survived, she would be a legend. That was it! Think of the outcome. Just keep going, and don't think about the rats! Things can't get worse!

  They did. With weapons strapped to their backs, the party had to crawl on hands and knees through the murk. She was gradually getting thoroughly wet and filthy. More than once she was splashed in the face. She shuddered as she wiped away the water. Despite the grime, though, she had to admire the kid's ingenuity. Above them was a layer of black plastic sheeting, over which some water ran. The cameras, in this light, thought they saw an empty tunnel. Then it was over. While she had been crawling, she thought she would leap for joy at this moment, but instead she breathed a sigh of relief. They began climbing, and emerged, through an old rusty steel hatch, into a basement.

  "Crawl up that hole over there," the eldest child whispered, "that goes to the pantry. That door there's to the stairs going up. There're stores on the next level, and the next one up's the ground floor. It's empty, and there's junk everywhere."

  "I know," Elizabeth smiled.

  "I'm sorry, but we ain't been any higher much. We really dunno much about –"

  "You've done enough," Elizabeth whispered encouragement. "Where's the kitchen?"

  "Up there, like I said."

  "No, I mean is it in the centre of the building, or –"

  "Corner, over there."

  "Good!" Elizabeth nodded. "As far away from the front entrance as we can get. Let's go. You kids go back now. There's a big meal waiting for you all."

  The children's eyes lit up, and suddenly they had disappeared. If only we could move like that, Elizabeth thought. Still, more climbing. It was not hard to work out which way to go; the route was so narrow there was only one choice. The weapons had to be unstrapped and carried in front. Even then, some of the wall material had to be removed to widen the route. It was one thing, Elizabeth realized, for half-starved children to negotiate this passage, but this could be interesting for some of the larger men. She wondered whether Max was still so sure he wanted to come.

  She stretched, and began loosening up exercises as she watched Max emerge into the pantry. "You're filthy," she remarked with a giggle. All the dust and gypsum was smeared heavily into his sodden clothes.

  "Yes, well . . ." Max began, then, as he looked at her, he began to smile.

  "Well what?" she demanded.

  "Well, let's
say it's the first time I've ever seen you with messy hair!"

  She placed her right hand, palm down, on her head, and ran her fingers through her gritty hair. She looked at the back of her hand, to see little hillocks of brown filth.

  "Ugh!"

  "It's a sight I'll always treasure," Max grinned, "but let's get on with it. With all the noise we've been making, it'll be something of a miracle if nobody's heard us."

  "Then let's hope you're wrong," Elizabeth said, as she checked her watch. "Right now the main troops should be coming in through the front door. That should occupy them for a while. Let's hope so, anyway."

  "And what are you planning?"

  "We're going to make an advanced raid," Elizabeth explained to her men. "We're going up the dumb waiter. We go to the thirty-second floor. According to Beth, there's something odd about the thirty-third, so we get our whole party up there before going any further."

  "It's a bit risky," Max muttered. "We're pretty vulnerable if they guess we might try this."

  "True, but why would they guess? Anyway, we can get about three into this thing."

  "I'm coming with you. I don't like it, but I guess –"

  "You don't have to come," Elizabeth reminded him. "I do. It's my duty, but it isn't yours."