Rogue(117)

The camera operator was back just far enough, or maybe she IDed him and didn’t waste ammo on him. But in front of him, Uno government goons were dying, and I felt a flush of vengeful glee. I had to force myself not to cheer, because it was very satisfying to see them die, bullets ripping through heads, necks, torsos, accompanied by screams and wails. She was ten times the soldier the lot of them were, and a thousand times the human being. We’d targeted the infrastructure and innocent people had died. These were the scum who needed it. They’d been unreachable, though I had one across the table from me now . . .

Then the stunner bolt caught her and she went limp, eyes focused on some euphoric tickle that was actually within her brain. They had her. She’d taken twelve of them down at least, but they had her.

As they rushed past, two of them knelt to ID her or restrain her, and one of them just had time to say, “Look out! She—” and then the camera jolted, the image suddenly focusing on a wall as it tumbled back down stairs.

At least fourteen. She’d rigged a charge, and I was betting, because I didn’t dare ask, that she’d worn it right over her belly.

That was why they didn’t know to look for a child. A child she hadn’t been holding. A child I’d found three days later, who had kept me just sane enough to not go on a killing spree of these . . . filth.

Then another camera took over, and I raised Deni’s count to at least fifteen.

They regrouped and got reinforcements from another platoon, and advanced at once, shooting anything that looked like a mine or sensor, three of them wearing jammer packs. It was a professional assault, for its time.

Next was Tyler. She was in great concealment, near a water heater that was operating because the hot water was on throughout the building and drawing on it and the pipes from it. The combination of heat and noise had ruined any sensor image of her. Tyler was not carrying a baby. Tyler was carrying a UN issue machine gun, and tore an entire squad apart. All they saw was a snarl and incoming tungsten.

She dropped the gun and went to pistol, and I counted her tally. She’d never been a lover, though she could have been. We’d been close enough, she was a buddy, a comrade and a friend, and I was proud to have known her. When the screams were done, at least nineteen more were dead, including one who got his larynx crushed when he tried to administer first aid. No, she wasn’t going to be kept alive to be tortured or murdered later. The grimace on her face at that moment was frightening, even to me, even after all that had happened.

No baby.

I didn’t pay much attention to the clearing of the rest of the building. Kimbo had escaped and they only had his most recent destroyed Earth ID to work from.

And it had to be him who’d hidden my sedated daughter up top.

It made sense. Deni had to be first and had to die in a fashion that made it impossible to tell she was a mother. Yes, there are ways to tell even from protoplasm, but they had no reason to look that closely.

It wasn’t cowardice that he was last. He was a better medic than Tyler. She was better with weapons. It was utterly logical, had been a decision reached in seconds or less . . .

And it made my target, my arch-nemesis, the shame of our unit, into the man who had saved my daughter’s life, and mine by extension.

I couldn’t tell anyone.

With that one act, however, he’d redeemed himself.

And I was going to use that knowledge to shame and humiliate him with his “cowardice” until I could get him off guard and kill him.

There are days when I really want the entire race wiped out by alien invasion, or a brutal virus. Then there are days I want to do it myself.

I realized Vandler was staring at me.

“I presume he left through the top window, east side.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because when I reconnoitered later, I left through the west in a hurry, past some of your police. I didn’t see anything of him.”

“What did you go back for?” he asked casually.

My neck hair turned into wire.

“Comm codes. No risk to us, but I needed them for exfiltrating.”

“I understand,” he said. “You were reported, and then we went through the building in detail for several days. It was hard to tell much of anything, really. There were only the four of you? Then, what can you tell me about this man, who’s going by what name?”

He wanted intel. It couldn’t hurt now, and gave me some goodwill to bargain with.

“Just the four there. At one time he was Kimbo Randall. I doubt that will lead to anything, though.”

“Likely not. You have no comment on your two female compatriots killing thirty eight of our best tactical troops?”