Castle Honsvang, Province of Baya, 24 Muhharam,
1538 AH (4 November, 2113)
The departing guard's boots echoed off the stone walls of the castle. He'd been politely interested in Hans' arrival, but no more than that. After a few words, and a quick but penetrating glance over the guard's uniform and equipment, Hans had sent him on his way.
Once the guard's footsteps had moved away sufficiently, Hamilton tossed off the covering tarp and stood or, rather, crouched between the cargo truck's bed and its cloth covering. He frog-walked to the back, by the tailgate, and handed down two submachine guns and two ammunition carriers to Hans. He had to wait a bit while Hans took from a pocket and slipped over his head and around his neck a crucifix on a rosary chain. He tucked the cross and chain under his uniform.
One of each of the SMGs and ammo carriers Hans slung. The others he draped from the vehicle's rear bumper. By the time that was done Hamilton was back with two rucksacks. He passed these down from the cargo bed of the truck to Hans' eager grasp. Hans set both sacks down very carefully on the asphalt and then helped Hamilton to dismount.
"They can't see us here?" Hamilton asked.
"No. The cameras are oriented toward the outer perimeter, for the most part. There are some inside, as well, but this is a dead spot. That's why I parked the truck here."
"How long until the next roving guard comes by?"
"Five minutes, no more. We must hurry."
Hamilton took his weapon and slung it over one shoulder, and an ammunition carrier over the other. He then gingerly lifted a sack. Hans felt his to make sure that it not only contained one jar of cyanide crystals and another of acid, but also the bomb he intended to set off in the control room.
The two raced on cat feet for the nearest door. Hans pressed a buzzer while Hamilton crouched down very low.
"Guard room," came from a speaker mounted above the buzzer.
"Odabasi ibn Minden," Hans said. "Open up."
"Immediately, sir." It was Hans' ensign's voice.
The door buzzed itself with the sound of a solenoid moving a bolt out of the way. Hans opened the door, said, "Thanks," into the speaker, and entered. Still crouching low, Hamilton followed. Hans shut the door quietly, then pointed. "Two barracks that way. They're marked. Good luck."
Both men then took night vision goggles from their packs and strapped them to their head. With a nod, Hamilton took off in the direction indicated.
He killed the hallway lights, then walked ahead to his target.
These are men I am responsible for, Hans thought, as he came upon the barracks room door for his own third platoon. Men I took an oath to lead. And . . . they're good men, too.
He heard another voice, an old and dying priest's voice. "What does the Koran say about lying to unbelievers? Turnabout is fair play."
But these men never lied to me. If anything, they were lied to.
"Not that. It's that it was permissible for you to lie under oath."
Oh. I suppose so.
Still, Hans hesitated at the door. His heart was pounding, yes, but not from fear. He was sick at the stomach, yes, but not from nerves. It was just that, The only man I ever killed—helped kill, anyway—was that old priest. And now I'm supposed to kill nearly one hundred. It's a hard step.
But will it be any easier, knowing that two hundred children down below will be infected with a deadly disease if you don't save them? Take your pick, Hans. At least the men in that barracks room are adults.
Sighing, Hans laid down the pack and removed from it the two jars and an oxygen mask with a small tank. Then, after placing the mask over his face, he opened both and set them down on the floor by the crack of the door. The door he opened gently until there was just about a foot of opening. He slid the jar of cyanide crystals almost through that opening. With two hands, carefully, Hans began to pour the acid onto the crystals. They immediately began to dissolve with a sound of crackling. He pushed the jar all the way into the barracks room and closed the door.
Inside, sleeping men began the process of dying.
On the other side of the castle, Hamilton felt none of the qualms Hans had. These were not, after all, his men. On the other hand, his heart was pounding just as Hans' was. And that pounding was from fear, if not fear for himself.
If I fail in this, he thought, what becomes of Petra? If I fail, what becomes of the children down below? If I fail, what becomes of the world?
I must not fail . . . I must not fail like I failed Laurie.
Repeating Hans' motions, Hamilton took out and prepared two jars. Likewise, he donned an oxygen mask—be nice if it was impossible to absorb cyanide through your skin and eyes—cracked the door, half pushed in one jar, and then filled it with acid from the other. He then pushed it in the rest of the way, and closed the door . . . just as the door for the other barracks room—the one for the headquarters platoon— opened and a robe clad janissary emerged from it.