''Remind me to tell HQ their mines suck.'' Kris grinned.
''I'm ready to clip the leads on this thing,'' Hanson said, bringing them back to a child who hadn't quit screaming. ''If this doesn't go well, it would be nice if we had some armor between the kid and this bomb.''
Nothing would harm this girl. Kris gauged how much the little girl was bouncing around under restraints and slid herself onto the bed between the ragged blanket and the child. As Kris wrapped her arms around the girl, she stopped crying, though her breath came in short, choked gasps.
''Nobody's going to hurt you now, honey,'' Kris whispered in her ear.
''Nobody?'' the child said with a hiccup.
''Nobody,'' Hanson assured her. ''Now, everyone back in the hall.'' Once the corporal and private were gone, Hanson sighed. ''I think I got this right.'' He pulled his faceplate down and slid under the bed.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Kris waited. Nothing still happened. Then Hanson was getting back to his feet, raising his faceplate, and grinning like the man who broke the bank at Harrah's. ''Don't just stand there,'' Kris snapped, ''cut the girl loose.''
''Yes, ma'am.'' Hanson said, producing clippers.
Li and his gunner were back, forming a wall between the outside world and their little girl. Kris raised her faceplate. ''The Marines are here, honey. You're safe. Nobody's going to hurt you.'' The girl took it all in, her face sheet white and frozen, her eyes darting from one marine to another. As Hanson freed the child's arms, the tension in her tiny muscles began to loosen under Kris's hug as she tried, really tried, to believe what this stranger said. Finally free, the girl rolled over and wrapped herself around Kris, buried her face in the hard battle armor, and gave herself over to deep, racking sobs. Ensign Longknife held her, protected her, and mingled in some tears of her own. Tears from a Navy ensign who'd saved a stranger's child. Tears from a ten-year-old who'd failed to save a brother.
Above Kris, three marines kept guard, guns out, grins proud.
''Way to go,'' Corporal Li cheered.
''Way to go,'' Hanson echoed.
''God almighty, God almighty,'' the private repeated.
''House secure,'' Gunny reported on net. ''Tech verifies no deadman switch. One bad guy dead. Five are cuffed and sleeping soundly. A few of the sleepy darts were at mighty close range. Some of these guys could use medical attention.''
Kris sniffed, then managed to stand without the kid losing a square centimeter of body contact. ''Very good, Gunny.''
Kris blinked her commlink to full local net. ''This is Ensign Longknife. The hostage is safe. Repeat, the kid is unharmed. Five bad guys are in custody, some injured. Request emergency medical backup. Warning, the ground around the target is mined. Do not land until we disarm them.'' Kris got acknowledgments from a half-dozen police nets and the Typhoon.
Kris looked down into red-rimmed eyes looking up at her. She hugged the girl tight. You are wrong, Mother. The Navy's not a waste of my time. Some days are worth more than anyone could ever pay.
CHAPTER FOUR
In a game simulation, Kris would have popped the Game Over button about now and gone out for pizza. In the real world, it's not over until it's over, and this one was far from over.
The girl, so fragile and light in Kris's arms, mumbled, ''Edith,'' when asked her name. Right, that had been somewhere in Kris's briefing, but it was too close to Eddy for Kris to dare remember it. From the way Edith clung to Kris, you'd think they shared a heart. At the moment, Kris wouldn't deny that. The private threw the upstairs gunman over his shoulder. Corporal Li and Hanson kept close to Kris and Edith as they worked their way downstairs. No one wanted to lose the girl to some surprise now. The private plopped his sleeper down in the living room next to two others. All showed blood where darts had hit them; two bled freely. One shivered in apparent shock. Two awake prisoners huddled on the couch, hands taped behind them. A pool of blood in front of them showed where one body had been taken out back.
''Who's in charge?'' Kris demanded.
The two conscious ones glanced around as if just noticing the room. ''Martin,'' one muttered. The other pointed at the shivering sleeper. Gunny retrieved a wallet from that one and opened it. Martin had an Earth driver's license and social ID. Earth! What was an Earth crook doing out here? This situation was way past strange.
But Kris had pressing housekeeping problems. ''Folks,'' she told her prisoners, ''there're land mines out there. I want them turned off. Who has the key?'' They just stared blankly at Kris.
''Get me their IDs. I want to know who we've got. Specialist, can you wake up our sleeping beauties?''
Hanson stepped over to the supine forms, gave each a shot, then started rocking the first one with his foot, a rifle in his face. ''Wake up, dude. You're in a world of hurt.'' Hanson smiled down cheerfully. His subject came awake with a cough, opened his eyes, took in the gun muzzle, and did his damndest to roll away. That only put him hard up against the next terrorist's back. The tech got down and in his face. ''Who controls those mines?''
''Martin. He has the codes,'' he answered, eager to please.
Efforts to wake Martin only sent the heavyset man from drugged sleep into out cold. ''This one's got a bad heart,'' Hanson reported. ''He needs a hospital, or we'll lose him.''
Gunny stooped to go face-to-face with one of the recently awakened sleepers. ''Where does Martin have his codes?''
''In his ‘puter. I swear they are.''
The tech patted down Martin and pulled a banged-up and aging wrist computer off him, liberally covered with blood. The tech tried to wipe it clean on his battle suit, but armor was meant to keep blood in, not wipe it away. He ended up wiping it on the couch before trying to turn it on. No activity there.
''He was fingering it when I darted him,'' Gunny growled.
''I think he wiped it,'' Hanson concluded. Kris had learned long ago that nothing in storage was ever quite gone, not if the right people went after it with patience. She took the computer and slid it into her pouch as she studied the field through the gaping door. Four of her marines were on the other side of a too-live minefield. Kris would risk no one now that Edith was safe. In theory, her techs could clear the field, but mines had no friends, and Kris was not about to see one of her crew hurt, even if a mom and dad were airborne, headed this way.
''This is Ensign Longknife. I have no way of turning off the land mines. Anyone on net have any assets for clearing mines?'' Several police nets gave her a negative. As Kris mulled her unacceptable options, her net boomed.
''This is Captain Thorpe of the Typhoon. We're inbound, thirty seconds out from the hunting lodge. We'll take care of that minefield. I suggest everyone dirtside get under cover.''
The troops around Kris exchanged puzzled glances.
Hanson shook his head. ''The captain ain't gonna do that. Please, somebody tell me he ain't gone and done that. My gear's gonna be all over the place.''
''He's thirty seconds out. I think he's already done it.''
Kris shook her head. ''He wouldn't. Not with me dirtside.''
''I think he has, ma' am,'' Corporal Li chuckled.
''Let's do what the skipper said,'' Gunny growled. ''It's gonna get noisy and messy hereabouts in a few seconds.''
While her troops got their prisoners headed for the back room, Kris made a quick call to her fire team and ordered them back…way back. Then she eyed the brightening sky through the front window, eager to see what was coming. The manual said the smart metal of the Kamikaze-class ships could restructure themselves in several different ways. She herself had changed the Typhoon from general travel to orbital mission, but that was done all the time. To change a starship into an air-capable vehicle…now, that would take some rearranging.