13

Some kind of turmoil was brewing in the back of the main room. The flash of pale green uniforms amid the varicolored finery of the clubs clientele gave him a moment’s warning of what to expect before the crowd was split by a bellowing Ork nurse. She was using her size to cut a path for the gurney that followed her. Two attendants wheeled the cart and its passenger under the direction of a woman in a DocWagon physician’s coverall. Between the oxygen mask and the blankets swathing the patient, Sam had no clue to the person’s identity or condition.

The doctor was a different matter. A cloth mask obscured most of her face, but her bronze eyes told him what he needed to know. She winked at him.

“That’s them, Hanae. Time to go.”

With most of the crowd gathering around to see the impromptu show, he and Hanae had little trouble slipping into the mostly vacated area near the doorway to the landing pad. Through the glass. Sam could see a Federated Boeing Commuter with DocWagon markings come in for a landing.

The tilt-wing’s great rotors kicked up dust as the VTOL craft settled dead center on the landing circle.

The medical team cleared the crowd and dashed for the doors. Sam pulled one open to ease their way. The Ork shouldered the other open and the gurney slid through. The runners raced across the pad, leaving Sam and Hanae at the door. Roe was the first on board, guiding the cart through the hatchway.

Sam and Hanae ran for the plane.

The throaty roar of the craft’s engines could not drown the high-pitched whine as the screamer on Sam’s wrist went off. Floodlights winked on, filling the pad with light. Through the glare, Sam looked for Roe in the VTOL, but she had disappeared.

Inside the club, red-uniformed guards were struggling to get through the crowd around the door. Along the strings of pads, armored Renraku security men pelted toward the club’s landing pad.

The leading guards called for them to halt. Hanae did so, almost instinctively obedient. Sam shoved her back in motion. There was no stopping now.

They reached the aircraft just as the first squad reached the edge of the landing pad. The sound from the Commuter changed its pitch as the engines increased power for takeoff. Hanae scrambled up, but her bag caught on the edge of the hatch. Sam ripped the strap from her shoulder and let the satchel tumble to the concrete. Hanae started to grab for it, but Sam gave her a hard push forward. She fell in a heap inside the passenger compartment, and he leaped in after her. Behind them, Hanae’s mementoes spilled out across the landing pad, scattered and lost to the night by the wash of the aircraft’s props.

“This is your last warning,” boomed the amplified voice of the helmeted guard captain. “Shut down your motors.”

The female Ork swung into the hatchway. The Ares Predator looked almost small in her huge fist. “Frag off!”

Her gun boomed sending guards scattering in all directions. One sprawled flat on his back.

The guards returned fire. Their automatic weapons spattered gel slugs across the hull of the VTOL. One had swapped the standard duty magazine for another that carried lethal ammunition. His slugs chipped at the aircraft’s hull, stitching a path that ended at the Ork. She grunted with the impact, but remained standing in the hatchway.

“Gotta do better than that to take old Greta down, you bloody breeders.”

One guard took her at her word, placing his shot between her eyes. She tumbled from the plane as it lifted from the pavement. Wind howled through the open hatchway as the VTOL headed up and away from the arcology.

“What went wrong?” Sam shouted to Roe.

She shrugged. “My decker wasn’t as good as he thought. Sorry.”

Sam reached out and grabbed the knife hilt he saw protruding from Roe’s boot. She watched quietly as he slid the blade under the band on his wrist. With a grunt and a twist, he sliced through the tough plastic. He threw the band across the compartment, where it caught in the slipstream and whisked out the door. Sam tossed the knife to Roe, who caught its hilt.

“Thanks,” he said, turning to comfort Hanae, whose closed eyes leaked tears.

Roe slipped the knife back into its sheath. “Black Dog, get that hatch closed.”

The man she addressed rose and tugged the panel across the opening. As he latched it, the noise level dropped dramatically. The other runner took advantage to lean across to Roe, “What about Greta?”

“What about her, Sloan?” Roe stripped off the doctors cap and shook out her hair. “She knew the odds.”

“She was one tough lady. Real wiz in a fight,” Sloan eulogized. “Gonna miss her.”

“Enough to pass up the extra share you get?” Black Dog asked.

Sloan sent him an evil look. “I’ll take the share, but I’ll miss her.”

“Till you’re into your next chip,” Black Dog muttered.

“You shuddup.”

“Take more than you to do it, chiphead.”

Sloan reached under his tunic. The gun he pulled was small and black, but Roe kicked it out of his hand.

“Save it, you two. When this run is over, you can tear each others throats out. Until then, you work for me. We’re all pals and it’s business as usual. Got it?”

“Yuh. Just business,” Black Dog agreed with a grin. Sloan nodded sullenly.

They flew on without further conversation until the Commuter tilted suddenly. Hanae was thrown from her own seat into Sam’s lap and Sloan crashed to the deck. The others barely managed to keep their seats and the gurney tugged at its moorings, threatening to slip them.

“What’re you fragging doing up fragging there, Kurt?” Black Dog howled.

“Company on our tail,” came the shrill reply from the cockpit. “Raku hot air.”

“How bad?” Roe asked tensely.

“Computer pegs it as a hopper jet. A little less maneuverable than we are, but more than enough firepower to burn our tail. They’re offering to do just that if we don’t put down right away.”

“Drek!” Sloan exclaimed as he scrambled back to his seat. “Roe, we gonna get fried. This crate can’t go up against anything with armor or guns.”

“On ice, Sloan,” Roe ordered. “Kurt, keep close to the buildings. They won’t shoot if it risks hitting one of their corporate bedmates’ towers. And turn off the radio. You don’t need them distracting you.”

“Gotcha,” he shouted back as he banked the VTOL. “I’ll head for the Mitshuhama Tower. Hellfire, those nuts might take down the Raku ship on general principles.”