2
San Cristobal looked surprisingly normal as Rev and Tomiko walked into the outskirts of the city. Subdued, yes. Depressing, yes. But there were a few people out and about and no signs of Centaurs. Not many signs of damage, either.
No one seemed to pay any attention to the two Marines as they continued, keeping to the outskirts and cutting kitty-corner as they made their way to the Polanco neighborhood, which was their assigned AO, their Area of Operations. It didn’t seem right to call it that. They were not here to take on the Centaurs, after all. But the military was the military, and the entire operations order had been given in militarese.
“Camera,” Rev whispered to Tomiko. “Eleven o’clock on the second floor.”
“Just keep walking,” she said, taking his arm in hers.
They’d expected to see the surveillance cameras. Social monitoring on Tenerife was more stringent than back on New Hope, so this was their first big test. A camera like the one Rev had spotted wasn’t likely to be able to perform a retinal scan, but it could feed facial recognition or movement patterns into the database. Something as simple as a hitch in Rev’s gait could set it off . . . if the Centaurs were monitoring it. That was the thousand-credit question.
Rev’s gait was slightly odd now, after his augments. Muscles, joints, and ligaments had been altered beyond human parameters. He just hoped he wasn’t too far out of the norm.
He tried to modify his gait to something more normal.
“You’re trying too hard,” Tomiko whispered. “Just relax.”
She was right, of course. The two kept on walking down the sidewalk, passing directly through the cam’s field of view. It took an effort of will not to look away. Just two people walking along. Nothing to see here.
Rev half-expected an alarm, followed by a couple of Centaur paladins rushing down the street to meet them, but there was nothing. No hue, no cry. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and turned to Tomiko with a big smile.
“One down, who knows how many to go?”
“Just keep on going.”
They had entered the city at BangPu, a suburban residential area, and were still about five klicks from their AO. That seemed like a long way for them to be simply sauntering along. Even if the Centaurs weren’t actively monitoring the security system, the AIs could note their presence. For all anyone knew, humans were being kept confined to certain areas, and breaking the restrictions could set off alerts.
Once again, if the Centaurs were on the systems.
Rev was anxious to get to their destination. They were too exposed out in the open, and they didn’t know what rules the population might have to follow. Certainly, the humans were not free to do what they wanted, not under the yoke of the Centaurs.
They passed through BangPu and into the BangNa neighborhood, where small, minisynths fabricated the various items that kept civilization humming. The area was quiet, however. None of the shops looked open.
“This is creepy,” Tomiko said.
Probably most cities within human space had these pockets of minisynths, many mom-and-pop operations with a single fabricator. It was so much cheaper and easier to simply print out whatever was needed than to have the items shipped in. They were the lifeblood of humanity, and them being silent was the most concrete sign the two Marines had seen that the planet was under alien occupation.
Rev wanted to stop and look inside one of the shops, but he restrained himself. He didn’t want to do anything to call attention to them.
“Another forty minutes,” he said needlessly.
Tomiko had the same navigational augments, and she knew exactly where they were just the same as he did. But he needed to break the oppressive silence of BangNa.
It was with relief when they crossed over the Boulder River and into a more commercial area. It wasn’t as crowded as it would normally be this close to lunchtime, but it was good to see people moving about.
“Hell, look at that,” Rev said as they came alongside a ruined city block.
Rock and glass had fused into misshapen lumps, a sure sign that it had been hit by an energy weapon. Two teens were picking through the ruins, prying with crowbars to see what might be underneath. Other people walked by, heads down and not paying any attention to the scavengers.
“What was that?”
<Commercial shops on the ground floor. Six stories of apartments above. Do you want to know the specifics?>
“No. That’s enough.”
As a Marine, Rev expected military targets to be hit, but seeing civilians killed or wounded was always a gut-punch. There was no discernable damage to the surrounding buildings, and as the two walked past, he wondered just what had happened here. Just bad luck?
Hopefully, the residents weren’t hunkering down inside their apartments.
As they continued, there were more signs of damage—not as bad as the destroyed block, but still signs of the invasion. All that did was cement the fact that he and Tomiko were in a war zone unarmed.
An old lady approached them from the front, dressed in her best, complete with a box hat framing her gray curls. Unlike most of the other stragglers out and about, she held her head high, looking as if she was bound and determined not to let the present situation affect her daily life.
She gave Rev a piercing stare as they approached, and he automatically said, “Ma’am,” as he nodded.
She gave a tight, pursed smile as they passed, in control of every aspect of her life.
At least, giving a façade of that. She couldn’t control the Centaurs.
“That’s the market,” Tomiko said a block later.
The Northwest Market was the largest in the city. It was where farmers and craftsmen brought in their wares. Food fabricators were the norm on Tenerife, just as in most of human space, but there was a thriving demand on the planet for organics. There were a few lightly stocked stalls manned in the front, but the warren of aisles and stalls inside looked abandoned.
Rev hadn’t expected to see anyone trying to sell their goods, but humanity was resilient. And their presence was a good sign, even better than the few people out in the streets. The Centaurs were not cracking down on every aspect of life, and that might make their jobs just a bit easier.
The market had more significance to Rev and Tomiko, however. It was one of their possible rally points to gather the citizens during the coming assault. It was a no-fire zone for the Navy and Marines, and it was relatively easy to exit the city from there.
“It might do,” Rev said.
There were three other possibilities, but it was good to get eyes on this one.
“Think we should take a quick look while we’re here?” Tomiko asked.
Rev hesitated. He and Tomiko were peers, but he was technically senior, and in the Corps, someone was always in command. It was up to him.
“No. I don’t see any activity past those few stalls. We’d better find out what the rules are first.”
“Tomatoes, nice and ripe,” one of the sellers said as they passed.
He didn’t seem too enthusiastic, and Rev wondered if he was there because he was essentially on autopilot. When a person’s world came crashing down around them, routine was one lifeline to sanity.
They left the market behind. Another thirty minutes, and they’d be at their destination. They had five potential hides, all buildings that, according to the last records from before the Centaur invasion, were empty. They could be full of refugees now, for all the two Marines knew, but they had to find a base of operations. They couldn’t just walk the streets out in the open until the Marine assault.
The battle damage was more evident as they continued. Destroyed hovers, burnt to scrap, were scattered in the road. Buildings had scorch marks, windows were smashed. A few forlorn bunches of flowers, accompanied by crosses, Stars of David, or crescent moons were testaments to loved ones lost. Someone had put up a scorched piece of wood as a monument to someone named Teo, with the simple inscription He Went Home Tired. Rev looked away, a pang of regret flaring to life in his throat.
A single armored personnel carrier blocked the middle of the road. It was split in two as if cut by a giant ax. Rev didn’t know what Centaur weapon could have done that. He couldn’t help but look inside as they passed, but if there had been local militia in it when it was hit, the bodies had been removed.
A grubby man, filthy, his hair matted, was sitting in the shade offered by the hulk. He might be twenty years old, or he might be eighty—Rev couldn’t tell. But his eyes were piercing as he looked up at the two Marines.
Rev expected him to say something, to ask for a handout, and maybe he was going to, but he suddenly twisted his head to the right. Quick as a cat, he was on his feet, darting away from the APC.
Tomiko and Rev might not be armed, but they were combat Marines with combat reflexes. Both were moving immediately, darting down a narrow alley. Only, it wasn’t a real alley. It dead-ended after twenty meters.
As one, they turned and hugged the wall of the building. A short thirty seconds later, a Centaur passed the entrance to their refuge. At least it had to be a Centaur. It screamed alien, but it wasn’t a paladin, a riever, or any other Centaur Rev recognized. And it was small, barely a meter long, the chassis half-a-meter tall.
Both Rev and Tomiko had seen a Centaur body, and while maybe half the size of an adult human, that was still too big to be inside the vehicle . . . or whatever it was.
It either didn’t see the two of them, or it didn’t care. It passed the entrance in two or three seconds as it traveled down the road, heading in the direction of the market.
“What the hell was that?” Tomiko asked.
Rev repeated the question, but to his battle buddy.
<That is an unknown vehicle. However, there are enough similarities to assume that it is of Centaur origin.>
“No shit, Sherlock.”
The pedestal, which looked like a smaller version of the one on a riever, was proof enough of that.
“Pikachu doesn’t recognize it, but it’s tin-ass,” Tomiko said. “Does Punch know what it is?”
Not really the smartest question as both AIs had the same database. Rev didn’t point that out, though.
“No way there’s a tin-ass inside that. Not enough room,” he said.
“Not unless they’ve got little tin-asses. Or baby ones.”
“Record and file for transmission,” Rev told his battle buddy. “Priority Three.”
Punch could pull the image up at any time in the future, and by putting it at Priority Three, the image was primed and ready to go. If Rev was killed, but his head was intact, there would be enough power to keep his battle buddy running for approximately three minutes, more than enough time for him to send off a pulse. When it would be received was a different issue, but at some point, it would be.
“It has to be automatic,” he said. “Does that mean the tin-asses have AIs?”
“Their tech is better than ours, so why wouldn’t they?”
Because we haven’t seen it before.
But was that the truth? For all the fighting, humans had only seen one actual Centaur, and it was dead. Sure, the science-types had measured signs of life, but after seeing the mini-Centaur scoot by, Rev wasn’t sure anymore.
The two stayed tight for a few minutes, lost in their thoughts. Finally, Rev crept forward and looked around the corner. The Centaur wasn’t in sight. There was a scuffling sound, and Rev wheeled around, but it was the grubby man, creeping back out to the APC.
“It’s gone,” he told Rev as he sank back to his sitting position.
But to where? Is it in hiding, waiting to attack?
Rev turned to Tomiko and said, “Let’s go.”
They still had a mission, and a Centaur sighting or not, they had to proceed. As they resumed, a door opened, and a woman carefully looked down the road in the direction the Centaur had taken. She didn’t bother giving the two of them more than a glance before she slipped out and hurried the other way.
“They sure don’t like the tin-asses.”
Rev almost said, “Would you?” but he knew that wasn’t what Tomiko meant. For all the admittedly few people out and about, for the handful of vendors at the market, it was evident that the humans didn’t have full freedom. Which was logical, given the circumstances. But after seeing signs of life, of commerce, Rev had started to hope. Freedom of movement would make the two Marines’ jobs that much easier.
But this was the situation, and they’d just have to make do. That was what Marines did.
A little warier, they continued, nerves on the alert, ready to dive for cover at an instance’s notice.
No more Centaurs came down the road. And as local noon approached, there seemed to be more people on the street. Not a lot, as might be expected in a city of this size. But a few more than they’d seen before. There was less visible damage, too.
“Salazar Square is right up ahead. Another five minutes, and we can check out the first potential safe house,” Rev said.
“Not soon enough.”
This was more of an upscale neighborhood with townhouses, cafes, and shops lining the street, guarded by leafy elms. In another time and place, it would be bustling with people sitting in the open-air cafes, eating and socializing.
But it wasn’t another time. It was now. They reached the square and turned to the left for their last leg to their AO.
“Who the hell is that?” Tomiko asked. “Over to your three o’clock, with the white armband.”
Rev let his eyes slowly take in the square, passing over Tomiko’s target, and he immediately understood what had caught his partner’s attention. Aside from the white armband, there was something different about the fiftyish man. Instead of being bent over, eyes to the ground, he stood tall with an arrogance that projected from him like a light. And if Rev could tell anything from body language, the woman standing next to him would rather be anywhere else while the man addressed her. Short and stout, the loose red-trimmed torbin robe with the hood pulled up did nothing to hide her slouched figure, hands clasped in front while she listened to the man.
And from his gestures, the man had a lot to say.
“Don’t know. But let’s cross the street,” Rev said.
No one had yet to give them a second look, but there was no use taking chances. They were only four blocks from their AO, and he’d feel much better off the streets and under some sort of cover.
Tomiko put her arm through his as they crossed over, ignoring the two people. Rev tilted his head down, mimicking the other people they’d seen.
“Hey, you two, come here!” the man yelled out.
Rev barely faltered his step, continuing and pulling Tomiko with him.
“Hey! You in the blue jacket. I said, come here.”
Rev didn’t have to look to see that he was the only one in the square in a blue jacket. He turned slowly to look at the guy, who was standing officiously, hands on his hips as he glared at them.
Twenty meters away. I can close in a second.
“Don’t even think on it,” Tomiko whispered as if she could read his thoughts.
“What do you want?” Rev asked.
“What do I want?” the man asked as if surprised at the question. “Who are you to question me? I said, come here.”
Rev bristled, but Tomiko’s arm in his acted as a governor. He forced a smile and with her started across the street again.
“That’s far enough,” the man said when they were halfway over, holding out his right hand, palm out like an old-time traffic cop. And as he did, Rev saw the insignia on his armband: a star and halo.
Angel shit!
Rev knew that the Children of Angels were not a New Hope phenomenon. He knew they were everywhere, but still, he hadn’t expected to find them here. Not only was the guy standing in front of him an angel shit, but he also acted as if he had some sort of authority. Rev should have put two-and-two together from the armband even before he saw the insignia, but back on New Hope, they wore white headbands.
“I don’t recognize you. What’re your names?”
“Leona Galdós,” Tomiko said before Rev could do something stupid.
Just go along with it, Reverent.
“Hansel Minik.”
The man’s eyebrows pursed together as he seemed to think about it before asking, “Where are you from?”
“Polanco,” the two said together. “We’re just going back now.”
“Polanco? Then what are you doing here? You’re out of jurisdiction. I’m calling Manny.”
Rev tensed his legs to spring into action, only to stop dead when the man pulled out a slap-freeze and drew down on him. In his PC-5, the small weapon would have no effect, but he wasn’t in his battlesuit. If he was hit with that primitive self-defense charge, he’d fall, and it would be hard. He’d be helpless. Tomiko could probably get the guy before he shifted his aim to her, but Rev would be out for the count.
Rev was royally pissed. He was a trained Marine, and this piece of crap Angel shit had managed to get the drop on him?
“We’re just trying to get home,” Tomiko said with just the right degree of plaintiveness. “Can’t you give us a break?”
“You should have thought of that before you broke cordons,” the man said as he slowly pulled his quantphone to call this Manny.
The real Hansel Minik and Leona Galdós were registered as living in Polanco, but if this Manny guy knew the neighborhood, he might know that neither had been on the planet for two years.
“How long would I be out if he shot me?” Rev asked his battle buddy as he shifted his feet ever-so-slightly to give him a better angle to push off.
<It depends on the charge. It could be from approximately two hours up and to death.>
“But it’s a self-defense weapon.”
<One that can kill.>
“So, I’d better not let him hit me.”
He rocked slightly on the balls of his feet. He’d drop down low and hope the guy shot over his head.
“Kyle,” the woman to whom the guy had been talking, said.
“Not now, Lima. I’ll deal with you after I take care of these two.”
“Kyle!”
His hand holding the slap-freeze never wavered, and his eyes never left Rev, but he turned his head slightly.
“I said—”
Whatever he was going to say was cut off when the woman darted forward and drew her arm across Kyle’s throat. Rev was already in motion, surging across the intervening distance, but all for nothing.
Kyle, a surprised look on his face, fell to his knees as blood fountained out, spraying the pavement. He gaped as Rev stood over him before he fell over, kicked twice, and lay still.
“Come with me,” the woman, Lima, said, as she slipped the ceramic blade into her pocket, then took Rev’s hand and tried to pull him along. Rev resisted, and she said, “We don’t have much time before the Cents get here.”
That was enough to galvanize the two Marines. The three bolted down the side street, then into a building halfway down the block.
“You don’t see us, Jen,” Lima said to a young, wide-eyed woman sitting on a beautician’s chair.
The woman drew her legs back under her, but she said nothing.
Lima led them to the back of the shop, through a door, then down two flights of steps. The door at the bottom opened into a tunnel, and Lima hurried down, urging the two Marines to follow.
Rev’s navigation worked underground just as well as aboveground. He knew they had crossed back under the square and past the block on the other side. Lima was huffing and puffing, and he could imagine he could hear her heart pounding. Finally, in a side tunnel, Lima stopped and bent over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.
She was trembling, and with each breath, she gave out a tiny cry, almost like a kitten. Tomiko pursed her lips and stepped past Rev to put her arm around the woman’s shoulders.
“It’s OK,” she said.
It was dark in the tunnel, with small lights every fifteen meters offering minimal illumination. Here in the side tunnel, there wasn’t even that. Rev’s augmented eyes could see the woman well enough, but she would be mostly blind.
“Fuck. I can’t believe I did that,” she muttered as she slowly straightened her back. “Kyle, you ass.”
She turned toward Rev and Tomiko, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. “You’re not from San Cristobal. I’m guessing you’re not from Tenerife. So, who the hell are you?”
Rev exchanged looks with Tomiko. The success of their mission depended upon secrecy. If they were compromised, their mission would fail, and that was the best-case basis. Worst case, it would tip off the Centaurs, and that could spell doom for the assault and the citizens of the planet.
Each team was given the authorization to do whatever they had to do to maintain that secrecy. Whatever.
But this woman, Lima, had just killed a man to protect them. Their mission was to save the population of the planet, and that didn’t jive with taking a citizen’s life. Beyond that, it just wasn’t in Rev to kill a civilian, even for a greater good.
“Corporal Reverent Pelletier, Union Marines, ma’am,” he said automatically, ditching the Hansel identity.
“Oh, thank God,” Lima said, flinging her arms around his neck and collapsing on his chest. “You’ve come to save us!”