so he could hear the entire net.
"Affirmative," Mac's voice came through. "We're ready
to withdraw. I've briefed the troops on their part. My compliments to Sink,
he called it on the noggin again. They're right on time."
Sinklar glanced up at the situation board while his guts squirmed. It could still go terribly wrong. "Now, let's pray to the Rotted Gods their commander has as much sense as I give him credit for." He paced back and forth popping his fist into his palm. "The only way we can lose is if the man's an idiot!"
Gretta pinned him with a cool stare and shrugged. "After Kaspa, I don't believe that."
"Maybe Kaspa was the result of pus-rotted luck," Sink reminded, his eyes going to the situation board. "Come on, Rebels. It's right there in front of — your noses-the key to the battle! Take it."
"Kaspa? Luck? You don't believe that." Gretta input new data as the Section Firsts chattered back and forth. "Mayz here. I've got a large contact in the foothills," the
net crackled. "Groups A to D withdrawing under heavy fire. "
"Shiksta?" Sinklar called. "What is your status? We're about to take a major assault."
"We're ready, Sink. Got the heavy stuff positioned. My boys are briefed, nervous, and determined to do their part," the big black sergeant responded.
"Now, if Mac can just do his," Sinklar whispered, eyes going to the stat board as lights flickered.
An incredible rainbow display rippled across the plains east of Vespa. The Targan advance inched closer in an attempt to tighten a noose around the city. Reports began streaming in as Sinklar moved his units, mind racing to counter the Targan offensive.
One of the other speakers crackled as the guard on the rooftop called, "First, I just spotted an intruder with my starlight scope. Looks like one person with some sort of pack. He came through one of the manholes in the back alley. Must have hit that passage we sealed off and decided to try something else."
"Got him!" Gretta snapped, accessing a screen to show an armored figure approaching at the lower doors. A woman advanced cautiously toward a side entrance. A bulky pack gave her a hunchback appearance.
Sink nodded as he watched the furtive figure. "Notice the lack of IR? That's a pretty sophisticated suit she's wearing. With that, she'd get by standard sensors without tripping an alarm."
"Yeah," Gretta agreed. "You thought they'd try something like this."
"It's their pattern," Sink agreed. "But I'm not Atkin, Kapitol… or Mykroft." He turned to the building intercom. "Mhitshul? We've got our bogey. Looks like she's headed for the west side door."
"Roger, First."
"Think you'll get her alive?" Gretta asked as she turned her attention to the situation board again.
"Depends," Sinklar mumbled absently. "Everything. depends."
The woman studied the side door. One by one, she bypassed the alarms. Then palm latches fell to her tools. She pushed hesitantly. No good, the doors had been deadbolted from the inside. With a vibraknife she sliced the hinges loose, catching the big door as it fell outward, muscles straining as she lowered it to the ground.
At that moment — with her attention diverted — Mhitshul's stun caught her. She stiffened as every nerve in her body fired, then slumped to the ground.
"Readings say she's out," Mhitshul reported.
Sink ordered, "As soon as you have her disarmed, scan her for implanted explosives, hollow teeth, poisoned nails, or anything else. Take no chances and leave her gear in the street. You know the drill."
"Yes, sir."
"She's very good to have found us at all. Must have been that supply car from munitions that tipped her off." Gretta went back to the boards.
"Ayms." Sink forced his concentration back to the battle. "You're twenty klicks to the east of Mac. That should be his defensive fire you see on the Killing Ridge. Stand by. You're in a perfect position if Mayz can hold on and kick them back. She's been playing wounded, drawing them in."
"Got it, Sink. Yeah, we've been seeing Mac's fire. It's getting a little hot here, too. We've been falling back. I make us to be three klicks northeast of the grain shipping terminal."
"You're doing great. Keep your head up. Things are going to be happening all at once."
Mhitshul and two privates carried the woman through the door and dropped
her strapped and bound body onto a thick-cushioned couch in the plush living room.
Sink glanced up to see Mhitshul standing guard over the woman with a drawn weapon. "Mac? You're on the hot seat. Withdraw from the Killing Ridge. Slowly now. Don't let them think you're giving it to them. They've got to buy it with blood or someone will get suspicious."
Gretta continued to chatter in her calm manner as she reassured Group and Section leaders while they retreated from the massive onslaught of the Targan advance.
"It doesn't do you any good to pretend," Private Mhitshul interrupted Sinklar's thoughts. "Considering the way you just fought those bonds and the breath you took, you're more than awake."
Sink glanced at the board one last time. Everything looked like it would work — just like he'd planned.
"Why am I here? What will you do to me? Keeping me for rape? Maybe sale to the slave markets?" The assassin's voice absorbed Sinklar's attention with sultry promising tones. He turned and studied her, noting how her body strained at the fabric of her clothing.
Private Mhitshul shook his head slowly, and Sink could see that he, too, devoured the woman with his worshipful gaze. "No, not at all. You're the type we would recruit. You brought a satchel with enough explosives to blow the entire top of the building off to within a gnat's whisker of the First Assault Division's ops center. The other amazing thing is how you managed to avoid tripping the active IR sensors or stumbling over any of the booby traps we've panted around this place."
She stared at him through burning amber eyes, features hard. "How did you knock me out? I never saw or heard a thing."
Mhitshul leaned against the table as he fingered his pistol. "Sinklar doesn't leave much to chance. We had a man on the roof with a starlight scope — just in case. What you experienced out there was a device called a stun rod. I suppose the best way to describe it is that you have three types of nerves which provide you with sensation. One of those
nerve types feels pain. The microwave length is tailored to fire just those synapses. I'm sorry to inform you that certain brain cells are also stimulated. We killed about as many as if you'd gone on a three-month drinking binge."
She nodded, taking another deep breath. "You don't fight like Regans."
Mhitshul laughed. "We know. Sink's about to prove that fact to that army out there."
"Optimism can sometimes bring grief. The Second Division found that out to their dismay." She glared at him, coldly provocative tones in her voice.
"Sinklar Fist is not Mykroft — and you're dealing with the First Division. We ain't anything like the Second." Mhitshul uncrossed his arms and lifted a shoulder. "Want to watch your Rebels take it on the chin?"
"No, but I'll watch our people rip your precious Regan asses to pieces." She shifted her gaze to Sink. "What now? Death? Torture? Rape? Slave sale?"
"I'm off the Killing Ridge." Mac's tense voice came through comm. "The Rebels have the whole thing. We took fifteen casualties — but I think they're satisfied they bought it the hard way."
"Nice work, Mac," Sinklar praised as the stat board lights changed. He turned, frowning at the assassin. Her curious eyes fascinated him. They pinned him, and, for a brief moment, he swayed in their amber power. The universe might have funneled into those hypnotic depths.
Enough to lure my attention away from the battle? Sink turned on his heel, striding over to meet the woman's stare with one of his own. Another front to this fight? he wondered as he bent down before her and locked gazes in a battle of wills. For long moments, he wavered, aware of the musky scent of her body, of her firm flesh and the delight it promised. Finally she gasped, blinked, and looked away.