It was a close run thing.
Kris felt the impact of darts, starting at her right foot and coming up her leg. It was purely an information dump to the brain. In the heat of battle, pain didn't arrive—yet.
She kept her aim on the rock. Sparks flew along with small parts of things. No way to tell what she was hitting. The hologram's illusion hid whatever damage her slugs were doing.
She felt the darts hitting her hip, and climbing up her belly. Here, the ceramic slats in her girdle earned their pay.
Kris let her fire wander, a bit down, a bit up. Maybe if she hit the auto-gun in the right place…?
Two Marines rushed into the scene, machine pistols held up before their eyes, tracking for the sound of the fire.
They put long bursts into the auto-gun even as it turned toward them.
Now Kris had a broadside view of the gun. She aimed for the arming bolt's slot. Mess that up and it had to do bad things to the gun. Why else were Gunny's all the time saying you had to keep the slot clean.
Jack took a few more hits as the auto-gun swept past him.
Even as Kris fired at the arming bolt, another part of her brain was processing the trajectories of the rounds that didn't connect with her or Jack's armor.
Outside this hologram must be a slaughter.
The chatter of the gun hicupped. Regained its rhythm, then slowed down to nothing.
A hush went over the scene.
Then the lights went out.
Now Kris heard people screaming, crying, moaning, and weeping throughout the huge ballroom.
''Somebody's cut power to the whole show,'' Jack said.
The two Marines showed that they took the business of being ever ready, or was that the Coasties motto. Anyway, they produced lights and a moment later, two beams were searching around the room.
''Somebody hit the goddamn lights'' echoed through the room in a voice only a Gunny Sergeant could manage.
And there was light.
Proving that God truly is spelled G-U-N-N-Y.
The harsh glare of the newly reborn lights showed carnage. Kris, Jack, and the Marines were the only ones who had felt the need to wear armor to an art show. Scores of bleeding people now suffered the full effects of their civilian optimism.
Across this gory scene, a dozen men and women moved with purpose toward Kris, their machine pistols out.
If anyone wished to take up arms against Kris now, there would be hell to pay.
Scattered in with the fallen were other hologram generators, now off.
Were any of them rigged with auto-guns?
Kris wasn't the only one mulling that thought. One or two Marines paused to eye rocks, tree stumps, what have you. As per their training, they eyed the things over weapon sights.
''Don't shoot the gear,'' Kris said, taking responsibility for several million dollars of equipment that struggling artists would have a hard time explaining to their rental agents why it came back in shot-up pieces.
Hopefully, she would not have to pay for this good deed.
''If any of them start shooting, nail ‘em,'' Gunny added.
Once at Kris's side, the Marines formed a wall around their princess. In the distance sirens began to sound. But the bleeding people in the ballroom needed help now. ''Any of you have lifesaving gear?'' Kris asked.
Most of the Marines nodded.
''Gunny, please select your best shooters to stay with me. Detach the rest of your team to help these people.''
''If you wish it, Your Highness.'' The statement clearly reflected what Gunny thought of that idea.
''Of course she does, Gunny,'' Jack drawled as he rolled off the docent. ''She's a Longknife. They always want to take more risks than any sane person would.'' Then Jack groaned.
At the entrance to the ballroom, two Marines rushed in, no weapons out, but instead loaded with medical emergency kits. They immediately fell to, working with the bleeding. ''Those Marines from the truck park? The ones Nelly called for?''
''Yes, ma'am,'' Gunny agreed. And with a nod from him, all but two of the Marines around Kris joined in lifesaving.
Over the next several minutes, civilians straggled in. Apparently, some owners of the limos parked outside also traveled with medical emergency kits. Several EMTs rushed to where someone was down, either relieving a Marine or starting initial care. Others stood around until a Marine yelled at them, and got them helping where they were needed.
''Jack, you okay?'' Kris asked.
''Shouldn't I be asking you that question, Your Highness?''
''I'm fine,'' Kris said.
''You're bleeding.''
''If I am, I'll have Abby write a very nasty letter to some lingerie manufacturer.''
''Check your leg, ma'am,'' Gunny said.
Kris did. Trickles of blood showed where several darts stuck out of her spider-silk stocking.
''I think the darts were small enough to work their way through the weave of the thing,'' Jack said.
''What about you?'' Kris demanded again.
''I'm okay,'' Jack said, but then groaned.
''Check him out, Gunny,'' Kris said, and took an offered hand from a woman Marine to get herself up. The leg was definitely starting to smart. And the hang of her gown was now all wrong, as darts imbedded in her ceramic understuff held its fall.
''Anybody see a Vicky Peterwald?'' Kris asked.
Just as the source of her query exited the ladies' room, surrounded by a mass of hulking security. They made for the exit without looking back.
''Lucky timing,'' Jack muttered.
''Or informed timing,'' Kris added.
''Sir,'' Gunny said, ''you have darts sticking out of your skull. I know Marine officers are supposed to be hardheaded, sir, but this goes beyond my usual experience of the Corps.''
Jack chuckled, or at least tried to. He also pulled a wig off his scalp.
''I thought you looked terribly shaggy on formal occasions,'' Gunny muttered, examining the armored toupee. On the inside of the hairpiece, where its outside had stopped a dart, was now a lump. The armor had both stopped the slug and tried to spread or absorb the impact.
''Looks like it done good,'' Gunny said.
''How is your neck, Jack?'' Kris demanded. ''All that force had to go somewhere. You took, what, three slugs?''
''I'm fine, Kris,'' Jack said, squinting at her. ''And you are as beautiful as ever. Both of you.''
''He's concussed,'' Gunny said.
''Let's get out of here. Is there a hospital close?''
''My orders are to transport you to the embassy's clinic, Your Highness,'' Gunny said. ''Captain is about one minute out with the reaction team. I am instructed to await his arrival before moving you. Either of you, sirs.''
''Then by all means let's do what the captain ordered,'' Kris said, and, suddenly feeling the need, plopped back down.
''Bad idea,'' she muttered through gritted teeth. ''Blasted leg isn't happy with me standing, and doesn't much like me sitting, either.''
''Captain, we'll need two stretchers, here. Yes, sir, the princess is bleeding a mite bit, and the lieutenant is going to have one whale of a headache in the morning.''
''Who said anything about the morning,'' Jack groaned and put his head gently down.
Samatha was shaking like a twig in a tornado. ''You saved my life,'' she managed to get out through chattering teeth, as she reached out to caress Jack's face.
''I wouldn't do that, ma'am,'' Gunny said. ''We don't know what all is busted there.''
And then the reinforcements arrived.
23
Captain DeVar moved them out as quickly and smartly as Kris expected of a Marine. Kris only tossed two monkey wrenches into his well-ordered plan.
Kris might not have been perforated by the darts, but she was quickly coming to feel like she'd been worked over with a baseball bat. Several of them. Despite the pain, there were things Kris had to do while the moment was right.
''Captain, assign your best electronic tech to that pile of wreckage,'' Kris ordered, though gritted teeth, managing to give the auto-gun a limp wave.