“So, let me see if I fully understand your tactical problem,” the colonel said. “You want to kill or capture one miscreant Jackie Jackson, preferably in the company of a pirate captain. You want to prevent her and her assorted band of terrorists from melting into the general population where they could continue to poison the civic life of this planet.
“And you would prefer to do all of the above while keeping the armed guards at the soccer stadium from slaughtering thousands of innocent people whose only crime is getting on the wrong side of said Jackie. Do I understand you?”
“Perfectly, Colonel.”
“And you hope to do this with the four Marine platoons our illustrious Captain Jack has at his beck and call.”
“Well, I was hoping the Navy might contribute a little something to back up the line beasts.”
“Yes, I forgot you mentioned that,” the colonel said.
Across from Kris, Jack made a nasty face. Squids helping jarheads. Unheard of.
“It is tempting to tell our audacious princess that the chances of pulling this off are somewhere between nil and zero. Normally, that would be so; but these are Marines we’re talking about, and I haven’t yet earned my paycheck for this month, so let’s see what we can do,” Colonel Cortez said.
9
Two hours later, Kris led her Marines out from the Annam plantation in a convoy of twenty-six trucks. First and second platoons took up only the first six. The last dozen or so were empty, ready to provide mobility to the yet unlanded third and fourth platoons. It was the other six trucks that left Kris with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
In them rode over a hundred volunteers from the Annam farm, armed with their scroungings from the noon battlefield.
Few of them had ever fired a shot. Even fewer knew how to hit what they aimed at. Worst, Kris doubted any of them knew a thing about taking orders.
But every one of them wanted blood.
And if Kris ignored them, they swore they would follow her into her next fight and do God only knew what kind of harm to themselves.
And to Kris’s professionals.
Kris took Jack aside. “First time I took a bunch of half-trained sailors into a firefight, lots of them had never fired a shot. Most forgot to take the safeties off their weapons. See if some of your Marines could teach this bunch of idiots the basics and maybe scare them into good sense.”
Jack assigned a half dozen Marine sergeants to introduce the locals to the functioning of machine pistols, rifles, and pistols, with special emphasis on which end gets aimed at the other side. They made sure to explain clearly to the uninitiated the workings of the safety system of their weapons.
There was no ammunition to spare for practice shots, but at least the locals now knew about a sight picture and the safety.
Sadly, few saw the error of their ways and dropped out.
Mr. Annam wished them all well and sent them forth with a blessing. As a practicing Buddhist, he could not bring himself to join them.
Kris had been taught early by her politician father to smile nicely at any blessing that came her way. She did so now. But more so, she hoped the local’s blessing had some power to it. In the next hour or two, she would likely need all the good luck she could beg, steal, or borrow.
Kris was not worried about her Marines. Her job was to get them to a place where they could do their job. She would do her part, and they would take care of their end of the bargain.
The volunteers were a question mark Kris did not need.
She’d been there several times when hardly trained, lightly armed enthusiasts went into a fight. She knew the bloody mess that usually ended up in.
She’d seen it again just that noon.
Now a small rabble pulled up the rear of Kris’s column. With any luck, the fight would be over before the volunteers found out it was happening and figured out how to get out of their trucks.
For now, Kris concentrated on what lay ahead of her.
Chief Beni and Penny stood on either side of her as she held on to the cab of the truck she rode in. A canvas cover protected her from the sun . . . a bit, and from any overhead observation . . . a very little bit.
“Chief, talk to me.”
“So far, I have nothing to report,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve got scouts out there hunting for any kind of noise that Jackie’s eyeballs might make, but we’re getting nothing. I don’t think the woman knows boo about eyes in the sky or search bots.”
“Nelly tells me there’s nothing on the radio frequencies.”
“Nelly’s right about that,” the chief said. “So far, this Jackie is deaf, dumb, and blind. I kind of like her that way.”
“Don’t assume that just because she’s not using any of your high tech,” Penny said, “that she’s as blind as you think. Once we get into the city, anyone looking out a window could make a call and turn us in. No, correction, there will be folks just waiting to let her know where we are and what we’re doing.”
“Is Penny right about that?” Kris asked.
“She’s got a point,” the chief allowed.
“We can close down the phone system,” Nelly offered.
“I’ve got Da Vinci working on spitting out a bot to do just that,” the chief was quick to add.
“I’ve already got a bot in the air,” Nelly said.
Around the house, while Kris was growing up, there had never been a really serious case of sibling rivalry. Not really. Well, maybe a bit, but nothing like Nelly and the chief.
“Both of you, hold your horses,” Kris said, then turned to Penny. “Am I wrong, or wouldn’t it be better if we took down the phone system just as we rolled into town. I’d prefer that this Jackie character didn’t know she had a problem until she was up to her neck in it.”
“That’s the way I’d do it,” Penny agreed.
“Okay, you two send out your bots, let them hook into the local net, but don’t shut it down until I say so.”
“Aye, aye” and “Yes, Kris” answered her.
“Ah, do you want it totally closed down?” the chief asked, “or would you like to just block all traffic relating to us.”
That raised Kris’s eyebrows. “Could you do that?”
“Da Vinci could monitor all calls,” Nelly quickly said. “He could hold up all of them for a few seconds while he listens in. Those that don’t relate to us, he could let go through. Those that do, he blocks. Or maybe answers himself.”
“You sure this isn’t getting too fancy?” Kris asked.
“More like too smart by half as my auntie used to say,” Penny added.
“We can do it,” Nelly insisted. “I can have some of the kids work with Da Vinci to make sure everything gets covered. We can make this happen.”
“You two work it out,” Kris said dubiously. She glanced at Penny.
The intel lieutenant was gnawing her lip. “Things are still quiet at the stadium,” she said. Then she frowned. “We got developments on Tranquility Road.”
“Give me your view,” Kris said. Her stomach rebelled at what she saw.
Jackie Jackson stood on the balcony and liked what she saw. The lawn, a lovely green without a single weed, was usually patrolled by dogs. Big ones with loud barks and nice sharp teeth. The first couple of heads on the gate spikes had been fools who tried to slip in late at night and failed to get past the dogs.
They’d begged Jackie to cut their throats before they died. The heads went on spikes. The dogs got the rest.
Jackie’s family had worked for four generations for Greenfeld State Security. Great-grandfather had complained that these young Peterwalds were soft until the day he died. Grandfather and Dad told stories of the good old days when people on the street went out of their way to avoid looking a black shirt in the eyes.
Jackie got stuck working for lightweight Henry the twelfth. The guy had no backbone and no taste for blood. Until he turned on his own. Until he shot his own black shirts.