“Roger. Okay, folks. Any minute now.”
“I’ve been ready for the last four hours,” Shinoda muttered from where she and Kleber waited by the hatch, looks of anticipation on their faces.
“Here he comes,” Ho said. A few minutes later, the hatch eased back out of its frame. A pair of legs swung in, followed by the body and then the head of one very shocked Hammer. Shinoda and Kleber dragged him in, one of Kleber’s meaty hands clamped down across the man’s mouth. It was only work of seconds before the Hammer had been cable tied into the commander’s seat. His eyes bulged in terror.
“Now, sonny boy,” Shinoda said, putting the tip of an enormous knife to the end of the man’s nose, “I’m going to tell my friend here to take his hand away. When he does, you keep your mouth shut and you listen carefully to what we have to say because-” She pushed the knife in a fraction; a tiny jewel of blood oozed out from the tip. “-we don’t want you to make any mistakes. Understood?”
Shinoda pulled the knife back. The man nodded, his face white with terror. He looked young and afraid.
Kleber pulled his hand away. Michael leaned forward. “Okay,” he said, “do what we want and you’ll be fine. That’s my promise. Now, take a deep breath and tell me your name.”
“Jo-jo-jonah Patel,” the man stammered. “Marine Jonah Patel.”
“That’s good, Jonah; that’s really good,” Michael said, keeping his voice calm, soothing. He was relieved to see the man relax a fraction. “Now, what’s the first thing you have to do?”
“Power up all six tanks.” Patel’s voice shook.
“Okay, then that’s what we want you to do, but remember, we do know how Aqabas work, so no mistakes, okay?”
Patel nodded his head hard. “Go on, then,” Michael prompted.
Patel’s fingers flashed across the tank commander’s master control panel. The Aqaba’s massive bulk trembled as the main fusion plant powered up. Michael left him to it. He wanted to check what was happening outside. Nothing to worry them, he was happy to see. He flicked the holocam down into the infrared. The heat signatures of two men appeared, stark patches of white in the cool of early morning.
“All six tanks are online and nominal,” Patel said. “I need to call that in.”
“Go on.”
“Okay. Wharf, this is Tank 1; we are ready to move.”
“Patel, you worm,” an angry voice barked. “Where the hell have you been? You think I’ve got all day?”
“Sorry, sarge. Tank 3 had a transient on her auxiliary power control module.”
Michael held his breath. Did an Aqaba even have such a thing? He glanced at Mallory, not at all happy when she shrugged her shoulders.
“Is it stable now?” the supervisor said a lifetime later.
“Affirmative.’
“Then what are you waiting for?” the man roared. “Get those fucking tanks off that fucking barge now! Take them to Golf-8.”
“Golf-8, roger that, sarge.”
“Do it,” Michael whispered. He watched as the young marine fed power to the drive train. He spun the tank on the spot, then eased its huge bulk down the ceramsteel ramp onto the wharf. His hand was soft on the sidestick controller. You’ve done this before, Michael thought. He admired the man’s effortless precision.
Patel soon had the Aqaba off the barge. It moved steadily up a muddy track. Michael watched the holovid screens with interest. The Hammers are not messing around, he thought. I’ve never seen so much ordnance in one place.
“This is where I park it,” Patel said. He spun the tank around and reversed into a wide gap between yet more Aqabas.
Michael wondered many of the damn things they had. “Now what?” he asked Patel.
“I bring the rest ashore and park them.”
“Okay. Do it.”
Patel did just that. “Wharf, this is Tank 1,” he said when he’d parked the last Aqaba. “All done, sarge.”
“Roger,” the supervisor said.
“What will he want you to do next?”
Patel shook his head. “I don’t know who you are,” he said, the tremble back in his voice, “but I’ve done what you want, so let me go and I won’t say anything to anybody.”
“I don’t think so,” Michael said. “Answer my question. What will the supervisor want you to do next?”
Patel just stared at him, mouth clamped shut, face set in an obstinate scowl. Michael sighed. “You’re not being smart. You help me, I’ll let you go. How about it?”
The Hammer marine shook his head. “No,” he whispered.
“Jonah, my man,” Michael sighed, his hand reaching out to take him by the throat. “Screw me around anymore and I will kill you.” His grip tightened, crushing Patel’s windpipe until he had to struggle to breathe. “Now, which is it to be?” Michael went on, letting go. “And make up your mind quickly. I’ve got better things to do.”
Patel’s face crumpled in defeat as he dragged air back into his lungs. “Okay, okay,” he croaked, his newfound courage gone. “I’ve got to run systems tests on all six tanks. We have to make sure the depot hasn’t sent us any duds. Once that’s done, I shut them down and go back to the wharf for the next load.”
“How long?”
“The testing’s automated, so a couple of minutes each.”
Michael swore. He’d promised Ho he would give him an hour; he still had a good thirty minutes left.
“Do the tests but call in a defect. Make it one that’ll take at least half an hour to fix. Understood?”
“Sergeant Miyashita won’t be happy.”
“A defect’s a defect. It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe not, but he’ll still kick my ass.”
“That can’t be helped.”
Patel sighed a sigh of resignation. “I don’t think I’ve got much choice,” he said.
“Not if you want to stay alive, no, you don’t.”
“Okay … Wharf, Tank One.”
“Where the fuck are you, Patel? I need you down here now!”
“Sorry, sarge. Tank Three’s still showing problems on its auxiliary power control module. I’ll have to replace it.”
“You useless dipstick,” Miyashita shouted. There was a moment’s silence, and Michael held his breath, praying that Patel wasn’t told to leave it for later. “Fix it,” the man said finally, “but fast, understood?”
“Yes, sarge.”
“Why do you put up with it?” Michael asked when the circuit went dead.
Patel shrugged. “It’s the way things are.”
“They don’t have to be. Come with us.”
Patel stared at Michael. “You’re NRA, right?”
“We are.”
“My corporal says the NRA is winning this war.”
Michael’s eyes opened in astonishment. “He said that?”
“He did. Haven’t seen him since. He did a runner. He was the tenth this week. So is it true … that we’re losing, I mean?”
“You want an honest answer to that?”
“Hah!” the man snorted. “That’d be a change.”
“I think we’ll win, but it’s still too early to be sure.”
“That’s what I think.”
“So come with us.”
“No,” Patel said, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. My two brothers are in the marines. DocSec would shoot them.”
Michael didn’t doubt it. DocSec was big on guilt by association. “We’ll have to tie you up and dump you, then,” he said.
Patel managed a lopsided grin. “Just don’t hit me too hard.”
Michael grinned back. “No more than we have to, Marine Jonah Patel. And you can tell them that we belted you the moment you got into this thing.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I will. Just let me wipe the holovid records before you do.”
Kleber and Delabi climbed back into the Aqaba. “The poor bastard’s sleeping like a baby,” Delabi said. “His head will hurt like hell when he wakes up.”
“Better that way than having it kicked in by DocSec,” Michael said. “Positions everyone. Last questions … no? Right, report when ready to roll.”
One by one, Michael’s team brought their tanks online and reported in. “Right, folks,” Michael said. “We need mayhem and lots of it. Wait until I give the word, then shoot at anything that crosses your path, but air-defense assets are a priority, so go for them if you can. Let’s go.”