One way or another, the Security men would very soon cease to be a problem.
"Damn it," Ramirez snarled under his breath. "Damn it to hell."
"Shut up," Bailey snarled back, his full attention on the van's-eye view of the wall of fire creeping toward his men. What were they supposed to do now?
For one of them, at least, the response was clearly not even open to discussion. "Get them out of there, Bailey," Poirot said urgently. "Get them out."
"No," Daasaa ordered. "They rill not run. They rill hold their ground."
"They can't, Your Eminence," Poirot protested. "If they stay, they'll die."
"They rill not run," Daasaa repeated.
Poirot looked at Bailey, his eyes pleading. "We have to pull them out, Battle Architect," Bailey agreed, his throat tight. Both Ryqril had that homicidal look about them again. "If they hold their positions, they'll be burned to death."
"So rill the 'risoners," Daasaa countered. "There'ore, the 'lackcollars nust ha' a 'lan to sa'e they."
"I'm sure they do," Bailey agreed, watching the fire as it inched its leisurely way forward. "But the prisoners are still inside, where they're better protected. The blackcollars can afford to wait until—"
"Colonel!" the spotter controller cut in. He twisted a control— "Boulder spotters, drop down to assist Security forces," the mysterious woman's voice came from the speaker. "Athena spotters, maintain high cover."
Halaak snarled something unintelligible. "They rill take the 'risoners!"
"No, they won't," Bailey said darkly. "Major, order the other spotters to bring them to ground immediately. They're to escort them into Athena—"
"Not into Athena," Daasaa cut him off.
"No, of course not," Bailey said, feeling his face flush as he belatedly realized what he'd almost done.
"They're to bring them to ground outside the fence."
"Maybe by the northern fence?" Ramirez suggested.
"Yes, by the northern fence," Bailey confirmed. With two sets of Security forces already converging on that spot, they might as well try to lock all their eggs into the same basket.
"Yes, sir," the controller said.
Bailey turned back to Daasaa. "Battle Architect?" he prompted, gesturing to the wall of fire. "They can't serve the Ryqril if they're dead."
Daasaa hesitated. Then, with a derisive snort, he gestured. "Ryqril rarriors rould ne'er run," he said disdainfully. "'Ut these are only hunans. They nay retreat."
"Thank you." Bailey gestured to the duty officer. "Give the order."
For a long minute Skyler had thought the Ryqril in charge was going to cold-bloodedly allow the Security men to be burned to death for nothing. Then, to his relief, he saw them lurch to their feet and fall back before the approaching flames, making for the single alley on the street's western side that still allowed for escape. Enemy fleeing down rabbit hole, he signaled O'Hara as the men standing in the van sunroofs abandoned their lasers and ducked out to join their retreating comrades. Stand ready for possible aerial move.
Acknowledged.
Spotters turning on bandits, Flynn put in. All ordered to ground north of fence.
Skyler puffed a sigh of relief. And with that, they could finally get the actual rescue underway. Hawking, Kanai: go, he ordered. Peering down at the street, he made one final adjustment to his mortar's aim and squeezed the trigger.
With a chuff of compressed air, the mortar fired, sending the adhesive-tipped grappling line snaking past Skyler's head to disappear over the edge of the building across the street. Shifting aim, he fired again, sending a second line arcing over the street at a slight angle to the first. His wrist pulley was already fastened to his left forearm; peripherally noting that Kanai's and Hawking's own lines were also now crisscrossing the street, he secured his pulley over both of his lines and rolled off the edge of the roof.
He could feel the heat rising from the fire below as he slid along the slack in the lines toward the low point in the middle. He worked the remote, playing out more of the two lines as he descended. Wincing at the heat, hoping his flexarmor was up to the challenge, he dropped toward the first van in line.
And with a thunk of boots he came to a smooth landing on top of the vehicle, just in front of the gaping sunroof.
He dropped through the opening and found himself facing someone sitting in the middle of the backseat, a black bag over his head and his hands securely fastened together in front of him with a pair of maglock forearm shackles. "Who are you?" Skyler called over the roaring of the flames.
"Kevin Dorfman," the other said, his words muffled by the bag.
"The sky seems extra blue today," Skyler said.
There was a short pause, as if the kid couldn't believe he was being asked for a countersign at a time like this. "Probably means rain tomorrow," he said at last.
"Right," Skyler said. Reaching across, he hauled Dorfman to his feet and maneuvered him around to his side of the middle seat. With his other hand he pulled off the boy's hood, ripping it from the stubborn tape that his captors had used to fasten it to his shirt. "Oh, my God," the boy gasped, cringing back as he saw the flames bearing down on them. His face, Skyler noted, did indeed match the picture of Dorfman that Anne had showed them. "Oh, my God."
"Don't worry, you're out of here," Skyler assured him. Unfastening his own pulley from the two lines, he threaded a hook through Dorfman's shackles and looped it over the first line. "Just relax and enjoy the ride."
He keyed the remote, starting the mortar's take-up reel. Dorfman had just enough time for a startled yelp, and then he was pulled out and up through the sunroof. Flynn: first sheep on the way. Position?
Nearly to retrieval point, the other reported. Will be ready when they are.
Skyler was still holding the bag that had been over Dorfman's head. Giving it a quick look, he dropped it on the floor and climbed back onto the van's roof, refastening his pulley to the second line as he did so.
The fire was very definitely getting closer. He took a moment to survey the area, noting with approval that Kanai and Hawking had sent their first set of released prisoners rising upward on their lines as well.
Making sure he had enough slack, he gathered his feet beneath him, ran the three steps the van's roof allowed, and leaped back to the next van.
The prisoner here was a young woman named Bryna Estrada. Skyler ran through the sign/countersign routine with her, got her hood off after the same fight that Dorfman's had put up, and secured her to his remaining line. Wrapping a protective arm around her waist, he keyed the take-up reel.
They rose together over the street, the superheated air around them cooling somewhat as they ascended over the flames now lapping against the sides of the vans. They reached the level of the roof where Skyler had set up his mortar; and as the line tightened into an uphill angle, they began to slide back down again toward safety.
Anne and Flynn were busy at the other two anchor points, helping disconnect other former prisoners from their lines, as Skyler brought himself and Bryna to a more or less soft landing in front of his mortar. "End of the line," he told her, popping them free. "Stairway's in that shed over there—wait inside until we're all assembled."
"Right," she breathed, and headed across the roof.
Skyler turned back to see Kanai and Hawking ferrying the last two released prisoners to safety.
"Anything?" he called.
"No," Kanai called.
"Likewise," Hawking seconded.
"Okay," Skyler said. "Let's get to the stairs—"
And with a sudden screaming blast, a Security patrol boat dropped straight down from the sky to a hovering stop at the edge of their roof.
"Halt," a voice boomed from the fighter's loudspeaker. Moving with deceptive effortlessness, the vehicle spun horizontally around, bringing the full range of its forward weaponry to bear on the group now frozen in place on the roof. "Stand where you are—"