Bold

by Mike Shepherd

  “Sal, tell the Marines in the trailing trucks I want to talk to whoever is in that truck.”

  The two rear Marine SUVs slammed on the brakes. The big truck tried to slow even faster but the driver only succeeded in jackknifing his rig.

  It came to a halt with the trailer blocking the road, the smell of burning rubber from tires not meant to go sideways filling the air.

  “Mahomet, let’s turn this rig around,” Special Agent Foile said.

  The agent in the front seat jammed something into the driver’s ribs, and the limo began to slow quickly but smoothly.

  “I didn’t know anything about this,” the driver whined.

  “Then how come you ducked when that truck came up beside us?” Mahomet growled.

  The driver’s excuses sputtered to a stop with a “They just told me to slow for a truck. I figured out for myself that I better duck.”

  Jack shook his head. Very likely, the driver didn’t know anything more than what he was telling them.

  “I want to see what’s inside that truck,” Jack growled.

  “Me, too,” Special Agent Foile said, ever so calmly.

  The driver now did an expert J turn and headed back for the jackknifed truck. One of the lead rigs stopped and deployed its Marines to halt traffic on the other side of the expressway. The other provided a rear guard to the limo.

  Jack’s rig came to a halt a short distance from the truck. There, a Marine staff sergeant had three sullen men under armed detention. A corporal was just shooting off the lock on the rear doors, as Jack trotted past the two SUVs that had provided the rear guard. In one, a medic struggled to control the bleeding from a wounded Marine. She had worn the skull cap of spidersilk armor, but the round that creased her skull struck a centimeter below where it ended.

  You can’t armor the entire body.

  A private swung the rear door of the truck trailer open, and the corporal gave a low whistle. “General, you really want to see this.”

  Jack turned from the wounded trooper and double-timed for the rear of the trailer. He wanted to get this done and over with. The hackles on his neck had not stopped their polka, and that trooper needed more medical care than they could provide her.

  He turned the corner, eyed the contents of the trailer, and whistled, too.

  Beside him, Special Agent Foile whistled as well. “Their very own traveling torture chamber. I think they expected to capture someone alive.”

  “They’ve got enough chains dangling from those walls to hold quite a few.”

  Foile shook his head. “On those shelves is a collection of fingernail pullers, cattle prods, and sharp knives, enough to cut up quite a lot of people.” He turned to eye the traffic jam growing behind them. “You think the virtuoso of all that pain is somewhere in that mess?”

  Jack followed his glance and scowled. “You think you could identify the psychopath if we held this mob at gunpoint and searched for him?”

  “Psychopaths can pass for quite normal. I doubt any of our eyes could spot him,” Foile said, shaking his head.

  “Sal, do you have a good picture of all this crap?”

  “Yes, General, captured in 3D. If you want me to create a sim of this, I can do it in a second.”

  “Let’s get out of here before someone comes up with a plan B. Corporal, lob a grenade in there.”

  “Thermite, sir?”

  “This isn’t a movie, son. Let’s not encourage the gas tank to blow up this close to a traffic jam. A few fragmentation grenades should make our point.

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Gunny,” Jack shouted.

  “Sir.”

  “I want you on the rig with the wounded Marine.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “Sal, can you draw us the shortest route to the nearest hospital?”

  “Got it, boss.”

  “Shoot it to the Nav computer in that SUV.”

  “Done, sir.”

  “Gunny, assign your best driver to your rig and get that Marine to the hospital soonest.”

  “Aye, aye, sir. Okay, Marines, saddle up. Fire Team A, 1st Squad, you’re with me. Sergeant Bourne, get the rest of the troopers organized and into the other four rigs. Move it! We ain’t got all day.”

  Crisply, efficiently, the Marines performed their retrograde movement with rifles pointed out to cover 360 degrees. Two rigs were loaded up when the SUV with the wounded Marine gunned out fast. It headed up the road, passed the roadblock on the other side of the road, and slipped off the expressway at the next exit.

  Moments later, the limo and the other three rigs followed it, but turned right where the other had turned left. Speeding along side roads, they made it back in time to catch the next ferry up the beanstalk.

  With any luck, in two hours Jack would be back in Kris’s flag plot explaining why he was home for dinner.

  32

  “The ground party is returning,” Nelly tersely informed Kris. “They have already caught a ferry up the beanstalk and should be here in forty-five minutes.”

  Puzzled, Kris asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Sal did not tell me. Apparently there is fear that our network may be compromised.”

  Kris couldn’t argue with that. Although the recent bot probes had been low tech, she’d had enough experience with Greenfeld high tech that it would not surprise her if they jacked up their game at a time and place of their choosing.

  And the worst possible time for us.

  Jack might not be telling her why he’d cut his mission short, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t draw her own conclusions.

  “Nelly, get me Major Henderson.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “The ground team my, er, General Montoya is leading is coming back.”

  “That’s several hours sooner than the earliest they were expected.”

  “Yes. Please have a large contingency with maximum tech meet him at the ferry station. Be prepared to conduct a fighting withdrawal.”

  “Do you want us to close up the ships, Admiral?”

  Kris examined that. She didn’t really want to batten down the hatches on all her ships. Locked doors could be taken as quite rude. Still . . .

  “Nelly, order all the squadron to cover their quarterdecks with transparent Smart Metal. Entrance and exit is through an air lock and delayed until anyone coming back is cleared of bugs.”

  “Yes, Admiral,” Nelly said.

  “Now, what do I do next?” Kris said softly to herself.

  A few months ago, she’d be galloping for the beanstalk station to hug and kiss her returning warrior. Of course, she might also catch a bot in her ear, nose, or throat and get her head blown off. Now seemed like a good time to be an old married lady.

  Damn you, Jack.

  I’m not that old though I am thoroughly married.

  I know that you did this intentionally. You set yourself up as the target.

  Thank God, you survived. Or did you?

  “Nelly, Jack is okay, isn’t he?”

  “I’m checking with Sal. The answer is yes. They have one casualty, a Marine. Gunny has been detached with a fire team to rush her to the nearest hospital.”

  Kris grimaced. She’d brought enough spidersilk underarmor for every Marine aboard the P. Royal. She expected to bring every one of her Marines home safe.

  What happened?

  She’d know soon enough.

  “Nelly, inform the head of my brain trust that the security team is returning immediately and without meeting with anyone from the Palace. We do not know why they are coming back early, but we should assume that negotiations tomorrow are not going to happen. The ground team will be back in forty-five minutes. I want them in my quarters in half an hour.”

  “I have informed them. They will be here. Fu asks if yo
u will be setting your table again for them.”

  “Tell him no table, but I may be chomping on someone’s ass.”

  “He says he understands and will do his best to keep his ass well away from your chompers.”

  Kris snorted at the joke. Maybe Fu could keep the next meeting from going full mortal. She glanced around her quarters, trying to think of what she needed to do next.

  Her right breast was getting painfully heavy. If it was, Ruthie’s tummy was likely getting painfully empty.

  “Nelly, have the duty nanny bring Ruth in for a nibble, assuming she’s not asleep.”

  “Shani says she and Mai and Megan are playing with Ruth. She’s doing knee bends and stand ups and is a giggle ball for all the attention. Shani thinks Ruth will be crawling soon.”

  Kris rolled her eyes. Just what I need, another Longknife getting into trouble.

  Or another Montoya.

  We’ll have to settle that soon enough, but not today.

  “Bring her in for a snack. I may be tied up soon.”

  “They’re on the way.”

  There was a door from the nursery into Kris’s night quarters. From there it was just a short hop, skip, and a jump into her day quarters. Still, the nannies usually brought Ruth around through the hall, only using the other door at night.

  Kris smiled at Ruth, who smiled right back, showing off her four teeth. Kris undid her top and flipped down the nursing bra, but Ruth was more interested in showing off her ability to bounce up and down, so long as you held her arms up. Ruth did a dozen ups and downs, giggling for all she was worth, then took a nosedive for Kris’s breast and latched on.

  Kris took several deep breaths, trying to calm her pounding heart. Ruth didn’t need to take in all mommy’s stress and nerves along with her milk. While Ruth suckled, the room took on a certain odor.

  “In one end and out the other,” Mai said with a laugh.

  “Nelly, up the air recirculation. I don’t want the room smelling of baby poop when the meeting starts.”

  “Done, Kris.” Normally, the low hum of the blowers went unnoticed. Now they kicked up. Soon, the room was cooler . . . and the air fresher.

  When Ruth lost interest in Kris’s breast, she handed the baby over to Shani and began to cover herself up. The two nannies, without a word, took Ruth off to be cleaned up. Kris had just enough time to change her khaki top to a clean one without baby drool down the front, splash some water on her face, and towel off before Judge Diana Frogmore knocked at her door.

  “Enter,” Kris said, returning to her day quarters. “Nelly, give us a small conference table. Just the four of us for now.”

  “Should Captain Ajax be included?”

  “Is she available?” Kris asked.

  “She’s just into the second hour of a nap,” her computer answered.

  “Let’s let her sleep a bit more. Have you closed the transparent cover over the P. Royal’s quarterdeck?”

  “I got the XO’s permission.”

  “Good,” Kris said, settling into her chair at what, for now, was a square table.

  “The detail you sent dirtside to look into our security is coming back already?” the lovely judge asked, clearly on a fishing expedition.

  “Yes, but that’s about all I know.”

  Another knock at the door. “Enter,” brought both Fu and Gladsten in. Kris repeated what she’d told the judge. “One Marine is wounded and being rushed to the hospital. Beyond that, I know nothing,” Kris said through a frown.

  The three arranged themselves at the table as if they were sitting down to a game of bridge: Diana to Kris’s right, Alfred Fu to her left, and William Pierce Gladsten directly across from her. They composed themselves . . . and said nothing.

  Kris squelched a frown as the nothing stretched. She cleared her throat and opened the bidding. “Our security team didn’t even make it to their conference. So what are our options now?”

  Her brain trust for this new challenge exchanged glances, then William Pierce, the senior arbitrator, cleared this throat. “We don’t know what happened to interrupt their journey. We hardly have any facts from which to derive options for our future actions.”

  The other two nodded, and all three settled back in their chairs, clearly intent on awaiting developments in silence.

  Kris bit her tongue to keep it from wagging. She was in a situation like none she’d experienced before. These three were supposed to help her survive it. If they said sit tight, she should just sit tight.

  Still, this was the time when she would usually be examining her options so she could make a decision later when it was needed in a split second, or people would die. Of course, there had always been those that softly hinted to her that she jumped to conclusions ahead of the data available.

  But I was usually right, and jumping to conclusions gave me time to get my ducks in a row.

  That had sure helped when it was monstrous alien mother ships gunning for her. Then, of course, there had been times when it didn’t.

  She remembered when, on one of her earliest assignments, she’d had Nelly blare reveille to an entire barrack of troops her first morning on Olympus. As a boot ensign, she figured she outranked everyone in the barrack. She’d discovered very quickly that the entire garrison, including all the officers who were her superiors, was quartered in that one building. Oops!

  Strange how she remembered that early screwup. She’d made a lot more of them since then, some that cost people’s lives. But the one she really cringed about was that early goof in the morning rain on Olympus.

  Kris let her eyes rove over her new team. Three wise men. Well, two wise men and a wise woman. They were here to help her do something totally different from her past sins. They were here to teach her how to survive a new mess, and not only live through it but also help millions of others to do the same.

  Oh Lord, not another learning experience, Kris thought, and had to swallow an inappropriate smile real quick.

  Kris settled her gaze on Diana. Was she meditating? Her eyes were closed. Kris couldn’t make out what her hands were doing under the table, but her shoulders were relaxed and her breathing was slow and steady. The two men had leaned back in their chairs, eyes half-closed, faces relaxed, but not slack.

  Kris had seen Gunnies relaxed like that, in the quiet before all hell broke loose. She’d credited them with being tightly coiled springs, ready to unleash all hell when the moment came.

  Funny that these three, people of peace and quiet conclusions, should look so much like those old war dogs.

  Kris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A few more and she found the buzzing in her bones begin to calm. She closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated on the calm growing inside her. Concentrated on being ready when what was coming arrived.

  “Admiral, this is Major Henderson. I am deploying a fully armed and armored platoon from each ship. We are in the process of securing the route to the elevator station.”

  “Very good, Major,” Kris said, still in her calm. “Do you have sufficient tools to handle the small stuff?”

  “I never sweat the small stuff, Admiral,” the major said with just a hint of a chuckle. “I’ve got that stuff very much under our control.”

  Kris couldn’t tell if the major had just cracked a joke, reported his status . . . or told her to get her nose out of his business. She chose the latter and tried to think what could happen aboard the station to her troops. As she went down her checklist, it seemed that all had been taken care of.

  Now I wait for Jack.

  “Admiral, I have a base security chief, one of the red coats, with a squad behind him,” the major reported a moment later. “He wants to know why I’ve got armed men parading on his station.”

  “Tell him he’s welcome to join the parade.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” came b
ack quickly, followed a moment later by, “He’s graciously decided to join us, Admiral.”

  Kris wondered if the red coats still had their arms, but she held her tongue. The quiet at the table was contagious. She’d have to make sure their way of handling the new didn’t interfere with her taking care of the old.

  NELLY, WHEN’S THE FERRY DUE?

  KRIS, IT’S PULLING IN NOW.

  Kris found her stomach clinching, but took a deep breath and prepared herself for what was about to happen.

  “The detail has returned,” Major Henderson reported. “We are headed home.”

  For a moment, that was all that came in. Then Nelly provided an update.

  “All the Marine detachments stationed along the line of withdrawal are being buzzed by bots of several different types. Sal and I are helping the Marine tech teams take over as many of them as we can manage. Nanos are taking down those we can’t control before they get close to our teams.”

  “Nelly, reinforce the Marines with as many nanos as you need.”

  “Already doing it, Kris. I’ve also got Navy tech teams backing up the Marines. We’ve got more bots coming at us than I thought possible.”

  “Don’t let any get through,” Kris said, and glanced around her table. The three of them were intense, now, eyes open, leaning forward in their seats, listening to every word Kris heard or spoke. Fu was on his commlink.

  “I’ve got our tech team reinforcing the Navy at Security Central,” he whispered softly.

  “Nelly, when you have time, could you put this on my screens?”

  The screens came to life without a reply from Nelly.

  She must be really busy.

  “Man down,” came a tense voice on net. One of the dots that stretched from the P. Royal to the terminal began flashing red. “One of those damn bugs got the sergeant. Swat at them if you see one.”

  “We need flyswatters more than we need rifles.”

  Kris wondered if she could get some Smart MetalTM flyswatters to fly out there as one thing before they morphed into swatters. Then she thought better of it. If they got anything out there, it should be more nano interceptors.