''Even men who rape and kill and steal food from starving kids?'' Kris spat.
Tommy looked out over the sodden land. ''This wasn't what I had in mind.''
''But it is what you've got now.'' Behind Kris, while she and Tom talked, the backseat got very quiet. What were they thinking? Did it matter? They had their orders. They would follow her. Why was she wasting time arguing with Tom? She had things to do. Again, she tapped her mike.
''Longknife here. Roll the windows down. We don't want flying glass in the cabs.'' Kris looked up, examining the front window. She spotted a release, hit it. The window on her side of the cab swung down to rest on the hood as the rain began to soak her. She told the rest of the convoy to do the same. For a long moment, they rode in silence, swaying from side to side as Tom hunted for more road and less pothole.
''Ma' am,'' came quietly from the backseat.
''Yes,'' it was not the expectant hero. He looked white as a sheet as he stared out the window. It was the young woman behind Kris. She'd been in the middle on the ride in.
''We can shoot these people?''
''They'll be shooting at us. Yes, we shoot back.''
''My momma and the preacher, they always said death belonged to God, God and the doctors. That's why the gangs were wrong. Now you're saying it's okay to kill. You sure, ma'am?''
Kris had grown up a politician's daughter where you did anything you had to do to win the next election. Grampa Trouble had come in like some knight in shining armor when she was so far down there was no up. She'd loved to read the history books about what he'd done in the war. He and Grampa Ray. Even Great-grannys Ruth and Rita were in the history books, fighting for what was right. Of course, Kris had learned ''Thou shalt not kill.'' But for her, it had never been absolute. True, rather than kill a spider, Harvey would take it outdoors to keep his wife happy, but he'd fought side by side with Grampa Ray at the Battle at the Gap and was damn proud of it.
''As I hear it,'' Kris began slowly, hunting for the words that would release the safety on her troopers' souls, ''there's a time to build and a time to tear down. A time to live and a time to die. I say if those men up there shoot at us, it's their time to die. Or they can throw their weapons down and their hands up. And hang after the courts get done with them.''
Kris turned in her seat to study the three young recruits behind her; they were pale. The guy in the middle licked his lips nervously. The girl fingered her weapon as if to see if it was real. The hero-to-be glanced at Kris, then went back to staring out the window. ''What those men did back there took them outside the bounds of humanity. If they shoot at us, we kill them like the wild dogs they've become. Those are your orders. You will execute them. If I'm wrong, I'll be the one that stands trial, not you.''
''But they'll be just as dead whether a court says you were right or wrong,'' the middle said.
''Kind of like the Colonel,'' the woman agreed.
This was not going the way Kris had expected. In the history books, there were no reluctant soldiers. Then again, these were Navy types, hardly out of boot camp. Maybe Kris ought to have the marines pull their truck up closer to the front.
Maybe I ought to rethink this whole thing.
Kris swung around in her seat. While she'd talked, the open fields had given way to mangled trees and scrub. Some trees were down, big root balls standing in the still waters. Kris eyed the road ahead of them and what stretched out behind them. Just road and water. Probably a ditch alongside the road. How could she turn this parade around? Couldn't even if she wanted to. Licking her lips, she put that option aside. For better or worse, this convoy went forward.
Kris concentrated on what lay ahead in the next few minutes. Had she done everything? What had she forgotten? That was supposed to be the perpetual question of the commander. What's left undone? She felt a rising panic. What had she missed? She didn't remember that being mentioned in the history books.
Kris checked her gun, eyed the trees growing closer and closer to the road. She activated her mike again. ''Crew, we can expect our targets to be hiding behind trees. Your rifles have range finders that automatically set the charge for your darts. They'll set them too low to shoot through tree trunks. Turn your selector to maximum.''
''Ma'am,'' came a shaky voice. ''Which switch is that?''
''The forward one,'' Kris answered, then thought better. ''The one closest to the end of the barrel. Ahead of the selector for sleepy darts.''
''Thank you,'' the automatic civility seemed out of place at the moment. Anything smacking of civilization seemed wrong just now. Kris started to say that, then swallowed hard as the truck came around a curve. The trees that had blocked her view ahead now fell away to Kris's right. Ahead, two, maybe three hundred meters, a tree lay across the road.
Kris took the scene in quickly. There was no root ball on this downed tree; a freshly cut stump stood beside the road. Kris switched the sights on her rifle to thermal. Yes, three people lay behind the downed log. Kris quickly scanned the woods to the left and right. Yes, more thermal images: a dozen, twenty. A lot. Kris remembered the man's story, people rising up out of the water. She tried to scan the ditch alongside the road. Some of the water seemed warmer than that around it, but the current in the ditch formed it into a long blur.
Beside her, Tom was slowing. ''How close do you want to get, Longknife?'' he asked through gritted teeth.
Kris went through her options fast. Drive into the trap and stop, let the bad guys shoot first, then take them. She had more people…Correction: she had recruits. Her targets were desperate killers. Kris eyed the water ahead; riflemen coming from the water had gotten the drop on the farmer.
''Stop here,'' she ordered. Tom braked slowly to a stop in the middle of the muddy road a good two hundred meters from the downed tree. For a long minute, Kris watched the roadblock as nothing happened.
''Throw down your guns and nobody gets hurt,'' blared over the swamp, sending birds squawking and flapping into the leaden sky. Kris scowled; she was about to say the very same thing.
Well, that settled the question of intent. Kris sighted her rifle at the right-most thermal shadow behind the downed tree. She chinned her mike. ''Open fire, crew.'' Obeying her own command, Kris sent a long burst into the tree, walking the darts from right to left. Someone tried to get up, run away. He didn't get very far.
Kris switched her concentration to the ditch to the left of the road and sent a long burst into any water that looked warm. A man stood in a shower of bubbles and spray, started to aim at Kris. He fell backward as her rounds took him in the chest.
Forms were slithering from the ditch to crawl up on the road to Kris's right. She slapped the door. As it came open, she dropped through it to settle into a squat beside the forward tire. She fired a quick burst at the closest of the gunmen, lying prone on the side of the road. He slumped over his rifle.
She took aim at the next one. He tossed his gun away, rolled over on his back, and held his hands up in the air. ''Throwaway your guns, and you live,'' Kris heard her voice boom over the swamp, amid the rattle of guns. ''Keep them, and you're dead.''
Five, six people along the road edge were on their knees, hands up. Kris swept her rifle sights along the trees to her right. People were standing, hands waiving high in the air. She glanced over her shoulder. The left-hand side of the convoy looked the same.
''You,'' Kris snapped at the woman recruit still in the backseat of the truck. ''Put those prisoners under guard.''
''Yes, ma'am,'' the woman voice was a ragged whisper. She stumbled as she got out of the truck. Kris flinched away from her rifle, then realized that was the least of her fears. The woman still had the safety on her weapons.