The remaining fire aimed at Drakon dropped off so rapidly that he knew the attackers must be bolting for safety.
Morgan had reached her objective, miraculously not having been hit. She leaped over a railing, one hand staying locked on the top rail to help her pivot in midair and come down on those sheltered behind the ankle-high wall topped by the open fence. Drakon saw her weapon firing and Morgan’s free hand rising to strike down viciously.
“General!” The captain in charge of the response force and a dozen of his soldiers raced into place around Drakon, forming an armored perimeter.
Drakon pointed, speaking coolly and clearly. “Shots came from there, there, there, and there. Colonel Morgan has taken out whoever fired from that location.”
“We’ve got troops in full pursuit, sir.”
Drakon heard the sirens from headquarters cut off but heard other sirens approaching. “There will be police responding to this gunfire. Make sure our troops don’t engage them by accident.”
“Yes, sir!”
Drakon looked around, realizing that firing had completely ceased. The soldiers forming an armored wall about him moved outward as they were reinforced, leaving him standing in a small, circular, open area where the grass smoked in dozens of places that marked the impacts of shots.
Two of the soldiers moved slightly, opening a temporary gap between them. Morgan came strolling through that gap. She was dragging a limp body with her by one leg, the body’s torso and head thumping along over the ground. Reaching Drakon, Morgan dropped the leg and stood by her trophy, grinning wolfishly.
“Roh,” Drakon said, “if you ever—”
“You’re all right, General?” Morgan interrupted, her chest still heaving from exertion, her eyes alight with something more feral than adrenaline-fueled energy.
“I’m fine. That was insane.”
She grinned wider. “I got a medical waiver saying I’m good enough for government work, General. I had to draw their fire.”
“No, you didn’t,” Drakon snapped.
“Yes, sir, I did,” Morgan said with an intensity that surprised him. “Nobody’s going to kill you if I can stop it. And I got us a prisoner.”
“How many did you see?” Drakon asked, deciding not to further berate Morgan in public, not that his words seemed to be having any impact on her. He also knew that she was very likely right. If she hadn’t drawn some of the fire aimed at him, he wouldn’t have made it until the soldiers had arrived.
“Two,” Morgan said nonchalantly. “The other one at that spot is dead.”
Shaking his head, Drakon knelt to examine the man. “He’s not military.”
“Nah. Civilian. He had a suicide belt on, but I left that with his buddy. I can’t wait to see what this guy says under interrogation.”
“Me, too.” Drakon jerked back as the limp body suddenly jolted, then went slack in a different manner than before. In the near distance, two explosions resounded at nearly the same moment, the crashes so close together that they nearly merged into one blast that echoed from nearby walls.
Morgan scowled. “Someone set off those suicide belts.” She knelt as well, peeling back one eyelid on her former prisoner. “Looks like brain-bake nanos. The same someone who triggered the belts figured out we had this guy and activated a backup method of keeping him quiet.”
“Damn. We’ve still got two bodies.”
“One body, boss,” Morgan pointed out. “And parts of another.”
“All right. There should be enough parts left for some identification. Let’s find out who they both are, so the police can go talk to their friends before the friends can go underground.” He stood up, grimacing at the sight of the dead bodyguards. “Somebody besides those two you took care of is going to pay a price for this.”
“Say the word and name the target,” Morgan said, her grin fully exposing her canines.
His comm unit buzzed in a particular pattern. Drakon pulled it out. “Here.”
“Artur?” Iceni sounded very worried. Most of him felt good about that, but part of him couldn’t help wondering if it was because a plan of hers might have misfired. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, but I lost three guards.”
“What happened? All I heard was a firefight. Someone tried to flood the media with reports you were dead.”
“Did they?” Drakon asked. “Can you trace those back to their source?”
“We’re trying. Did you get any of them?”
“Two, at least. One was alive, but he had remote-suicide nanos in him. Somebody is definitely playing for keeps.”
A pause, then Iceni spoke again. “Is there anything you need from me?”
“Just make sure the police and my troops don’t knock heads. I have a feeling the attackers who took off have already vanished into the woodwork.”
“I’ll do that. Take care of yourself.”
Drakon put away his comm unit, noticing that Morgan was looking down at the dead attacker with an inquiring gaze. “See something?” he asked.
“Who really wants you out of the way?” Morgan answered him with a question of her own.
“Besides whatever snakes remain in this star system? You tell me.”
“Madam President.” Morgan nodded toward the dead man. “Who has access to that kind of nano? And those kind of weapons?”
“The snakes,” Drakon said patiently.
“They’re not the only ones.” She used her toe to push back one sleeve and expose the man’s forearm. “See that?”
It was impossible to miss. “A labor-camp mark.”
“How many citizens who spent time in a labor camp are going to have anything to do with snakes?”
He didn’t have any answer to that.
Colonel Malin had been extremely upset when he returned to headquarters, making up for his absence when Drakon was attacked with a whirlwind of activity. “The police have hauled in every known associate of the two dead men,” he told Drakon. They were in a secure conference room, along with Morgan.
Malin brought up an image on the display, showing every shot fired during the engagement. “From an analysis of the firing patterns, they initially aimed for your guards, General, then, after the first volley, shifted their attack to you and Colonel Morgan. That split in their targeting is what kept you from being hit, sir. For the first several seconds, only half the available weapons were firing at you.”
Drakon glared at the image, then at Malin. “Colonel Morgan drew their fire deliberately.”
“Yes, sir,” Malin agreed, while Morgan smirked at him. “But there were a lot of shots being aimed at her before she did that, almost as many as were fired at you.”
The implications of that were pretty obvious. “Colonel Morgan was a primary target, too? Why?”
“I believe, sir, that the attackers targeted her in error.”
Morgan, leaning back in her seat with one foot on the table, her leg extended in a way guaranteed to draw the eye, grinned. “You’re just jealous.”
“Not at all,” Malin said. “I’m certain they thought you were someone else.”
“Who else could she have been?” Drakon demanded.
“It was widely known that you met the new Alliance liaison officer on the main orbiting facility, and that she left in company with you and President Iceni. President Iceni’s shuttle landed, and she was seen leaving it alone. Your shuttle landed in a secure area, but one visible to long-distance snooping that would have identified a woman leaving the shuttle with you.”
“They thought I was walking Captain Bradamont around? Morgan doesn’t look anything like Bradamont.”
Malin gestured toward Morgan. “A wig, a uniform change, some other cosmetics, and their physical builds are close enough that an observer could conclude that the Alliance officer was the one accompanying you.”