Without thought of backup, the commando threw himself into the knot of Snakes pounding on Wolf. Bodies flew as eighty-two kilos of hardened muscle and bone struck. Shadd went down with them, but he was prepared. He struck out with hands and feet, knees and elbows. Rough and tumble was the way he liked it. Five seconds later, he was on his feet again, but those he had bowled over were not.

Fraser arrived in time to lay low a street punk who was using a brick against Blake's head, then the young Dragoon immediately engaged with two of the Draco's friends. Or so they seemed, dressed in the same gang colors as the fallen punk.

Wolf was on his hands and knees, battered, bloodied, but still alive. He was moving slowly and seemed unaware of the screaming harridan who rose up beside him with a knife. Fraser and Blake were occupied with their own problems. Cameron and Lean had just resumed their progress toward the melee. They were too far away to be any help.

It was Shadd who launched himself into a flying kick. His kiaishout carried above the bedlam, momentarily stilling it. The crack as the woman's neck snapped was audible over most of the square. Even before her body hit the ground, Shadd was up and had recovered the knife. “Come on, Colonel. We've got to get you out of here.” Shadd had to help Wolf stand. The Colonel was shaky, disoriented, and covered with blood, some of it his own. Shadd could not tell how serious the injuries were. The Colonel was too old for this kind of ill-use.

Cameron and Lean arrived in time to help Fraser and Blake finish off the last of their immediate opponents. For the moment, the mob held back, unsure what to do about the new furies in their midst. Shadd did not want to give them time to recover. Hit them and vanish was the rule in Seventh Kommando. Vanishing with this crowd around them was going to be a little tricky.

“Major!” Shadd shouted. “We've got to get the Colonel inside. He's hurt.”

“Right.” Blood streamed down the side of Blake's face from a gash on his scalp. He looked worse than Wolf but was considerably steadier on his feet. “Everybody else functional?”

A quick chorus of ayes replied.

“Shadd, on point. Fraser, rear guard. Lean, right flank,” Blake ordered. He himself took up the left side. He didn't need to give Cameron an order, for the comm officer was already supporting the Colonel. Somebody had to do it, and Cameron was the least effective fighter of the group. “Let's move it!”

The rescue of Wolf, and the speed with which the Dragoons had organized, caught their tormentors off-guard. Shadd's sudden plunge into the midst of the press had gained the fugitives a fair bit of ground, as much from surprise as from his liberal use of the knife he still held.

They had made it only a quarter of the way to the steps when Shadd went up against an armored figure. He almost struck the trooper down in a reflexive move before he recognized the Dragoon's equipment.

After making it possible for Shadd and his group to reach Wolf in time, Lieutenant Riker had organized a sally by the cordon guards. Once the beleaguered Dragoons were safely inside a ring of armored bodies, the guards opened up freely with their Crowdbusters. Only fallen bodies opposed the Dragoon retreat to the steps.

The mob, cheated of its prey, stormed up behind them in an attempt to reclaim the victims they had let slip from their grip. A volley of concentrated stunner fire took out the leaders, and the crowd recoiled. Belligerent Kuritans hurled rocks and bottles. Bits of rotten food rained down on the steps of the barricade.

Safe behind that shelter, Blake turned. In a voice loud enough to carry over the abusive shouting of the mob, he shouted, “Clear the steps! Go home!” The crowd only jeered him.

“All right,” he said more quietly. “Lieutenant, sweep the steps with the stunners. I don't want any Draco standing on our property.”

“Yessir!”

Blake didn't need to see the face behind the helmet visor to know it wore a pleased smile. Riker passed the order to his men. Blake watched as they opened up, the keening wail of massed Crowdbusters drowning out the roar of the crowd. With no protection and nowhere to run, people began to fall. The mob's nerve broke. They routed.

Though the stunners were not aimed at him, Blake's head ached from more than the head wound he had taken. Without the sound baffles of a helmet, the close-range buzz from the weapons affected him. That ache would be with him for hours, but he did not care. He felt a savage satisfaction. Some of the Kuritans had taken multiple stunner hits. Such abuse heaped on a living system often had serious results. Blake hoped some would die.

In minutes, the square was empty of rioters. The bodies lay where they had fallen. A few semi-conscious Kuritans wandered about. In their dazed state, they were more a threat to themselves than to anyone else. Broken festival wagons littered the pavement. The square looked like the aftermath of a battle.

39

Dragoon Administrative HQ, Cerant, An Ting

Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine

2 January 3028

 

The two Kurita staff cars stood silently in the square, reefs in a sea of debris and bodies. They were scratched and dented and their surfaces were marred by smears of food, but they were otherwise unharmed.

The rear door of the first limousine opened and Akuma stepped out, ever pristine in his uniform. Picking his way toward the Dragoon HQ, he carefully avoided the fallen bodies and clutter left behind by the fighting. The hulking blond mass of his bodyguard trooped behind him.

No Dragoon made a move to stop the approaching Kuritans, but Blake could tell from the way trigger fingers twitched that several thought about it. When Akuma shifted his path to pass by Blake, the intel officer stepped into the Draconian's way.

“I believe that I should see Colonel Wolf,” Akuma announced, undaunted.

“ Ibelieve the Colonel will want a few minutes before he talks to you.”

Akuma inclined his head. “A reasonable request. Shall we wait inside?”

Malking Snake,Blake thought. As though nothing had happened. I can be unreasonably reasonable, too.“If the Chu-sawould accompany me to the waiting area.”

“Certainly,” Akuma replied.

After sending a runner to inform Wolf of their presence, Blake silently escorted the Draconian. Accepting the Dragoon's silent treatment, Akuma sat and waited. After a few minutes, Lean came back with the runner.

“Colonel wants to see you now,” she said. When Akuma started to rise, she said, “Not you, Colonel Snake. Wolf wants to talk to Major Blake first.”

“As he wishes, Captain. I do suggest that your Colonel not delay over long.”

“I think Colonel Wolf knows what he's doing,” she snapped back.

“So long as the wait is his doing and not yours.” Akuma knew it was petty to agitate Lean this way, but he enjoyed seeing the angry color flush her face. After all, soon there would be no Dragoons to bait.

“Five minutes,” she ground out.

“I can certainly wait that long. I will see you then, Captain.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

Lean came back exactly on time to escort the Kuritans to the planning room. With her were two security troopers. Unlike the men stationed outside, these carried Ryonex subguns. Akuma decided that this was a warning that any trouble inside the headquarters would be met with deadly force. How pathetically juvenile,he thought.

The Dragoons had removed the teak conference table from the center of the planning room and replaced it with a holotank from one of their DropShips. Technicians were busy with it, calling up a map of Cerant. Even the brief glance he allowed himself showed Akuma that the city was reproduced in intricate detail. That surprised him, for his own maps were not as good. What his maps did do, however, was indicate the exact positions of all Kuritan forces as well as the carefully plotted locations of all Dragoon assets. The Dragoons had misplaced several key Ryuken units.