Spy took the question as a challenge to her prowess. She dropped the rat and hissed at the insult.
“Good. Call your clowder. We need all the cats at the entrance to the nest. Mateo. Release the Maarsie mini-flyers. Get them down the air shaft before Camilla and Evelyn get there.”
“Roger. Maarsies deployed,” Mateo said. Maarsies were Mobile Aerial Attack Reconnaissance Swarm-bots. A full battery of the tiny flying weapons had been found in the Simba. Each could deliver poison, gas, or an explosive with pinpoint accuracy.
I gave my team theMove outhand signal, and took point at the left of the hallway. Jacopo was at our six and to the left. Jagger took position between us, to our right, in a staggered line that allowed either one to shoot ahead or behind without hitting each other or, hopefully, me. We headed out, shooting stray rats as we went. The cats were in front, leading us.
Some minutes later, Mina stated that she was heading back to join her team, trailing a cat. She sounded mildly amused. I wondered if a cat would be a good pet for Mina, soothing her, giving her something to love, or if she would kill the cat. I was betting on the latter possibility.
The cats rounded a corner, whipped back, and raced toward us. Rats lock-stepped down the hallway after them. The cats leaped to my shoulders, claws digging in. I tapped my suit, raising scales for footholds. Mateo and Jacopo moved in front of us and opened blaster fire, boiling the rats alive.
Spy and Maul watched the action avidly. I was glad they didn’t have fingers to pull blaster triggers. But then, cats had uncanny abilities to figure things out. Someday they might even steal a blaster. I should keep watch for missing weapons.
We shot rats for far too long.
Mateo said, “Objective One is confirmed safe at the top of the air shaft. Repeat. Objective One is confirmed safe. Camilla is returning with a contingent of cats, including Notch.”
Notch was Tuffs’s mate and the number-one fighter cat. I hadn’t been aware he was with Mateo in the Simba. “Nobody tells me anything,” I muttered—and blasted three mega-sized rats in an open doorway behind us. They twitched and died, their little rat eyes on me.
The cats dropped to the floor. I figured that meant there were no more rats nearby.
“Mateo,” I said, “Maarsie ETA to the nest?”
“ETA is three mikes unless they encounter resistance.”
“Three minutes confirmed,” I said.
The plan was to get the door to Clarisse’s nest open so that one small group of Maarsies and cats could recon, looking for Warhammer’s warriors and weaponry inside. The Simba and its warbot commander would stay in hiding unless or until we needed it, because Warhammer had thralls in the military, and the military would react in force if they knew about a warbot and a battle tank.
“Team Beta Two reporting. Injured are at the medical ward. ETA to energy room, three mikes.”
“Team Alpha is on the way to the Admin Suites, henceforth called the nest,” I said. “Team Epsilon, your reinforcements will be at the nest in three minutes. As your backup is fewer in number than planned, there will be additional cats and airborne support.” Letting humor into my voice, I added, “Do not shoot your backup.”
A laughing voice said, “Ten-four on dat Commander. Awaitin’ backup, we is.”
We moved through the hallways, weapons at ready-to-fire position. Midway along the stairwell to the next level we came under heavy weapons fire from behind. Our armor hardened to combat defensive on impact, leaving us with a full second of immobility before we were able to respond.
In the first half second, we were hit dozens of times each.
My brain and body sped up as adrenaline shocked into me. There were three humans in the rear camera. Mixed uniforms. In the second half second, somehow, Jacopo was able to pivot and return fire with his wide-range blaster. He moved with eerie, emotionless concentration, a ballet of violence.
The attackers seemed to be expecting blaster fire and in the next second, ducked back around the landing and through the door there. Only one was hit, her arm scorched. Screaming.
There wasn’t time to clear each floor, not while getting this job done in the time frame allowed—before Jolene missed an outgoing distress call and the military commanders controlled by Warhammer could move in and try to retake their bunker. Every second Warhammer lived, our taking heavy fire was a greater possibility.
My suit unlocked, still hardened, but responding to my need to move. I followed Jagger up one flight, glanced at Jacopo to cover the stairwell, and covered Jagger as he bashed through the door, splinters flying. He exited, firing. A woman screamed.
I saw, in that weird slowed-down reaction to battle, Jagger taking two rounds. I ducked under his elbow and fired from down low. Killed the man with her. Or, we did it together. Two rounds from Jagger and a full blaster from me. He was twice dead. The woman was dead too, lying beneath the man. As I watched, her arm rolled to the side and ripped off, where Jacopo’s blaster had wounded her.
I heard a sound from below. Started to swivel. Jacopo fired, wide range with one blaster, and needlepoint accurate with the other.
“Multiple assailants,” Jacopo said, his voice steady and soft.
I dropped to him, landing, and added single bursts to Jacopo’s wide-range side.
Jagger, directly behind me, fired toward Jacopo. Missing him by a centimeter. Hitting the man targeting him from the open doorway. The man had two neat round holes, forehead and to the right of his nose.
I was breathing heavy. Shaking. My armor informed me it was shooting protein, minerals, and sugar into my bloodstream and increasing the oxygen levels in my helmet. Thinking we were done, I almost told it to stop, but a swarm of rats raced through the broken stairwell door toward us. I swung around and opened fire with my blaster set on wide range, saving the ammo in my handguns. Jacopo danced to the side, taking individual shots with his target pistol, picking off the last of the human stragglers. Jagger crouched against the wall, covering the hall and stairwell on that end.
