The Meet

The ever present dust of the planet had managed to work its way under the concealed armour vests I had insisted we all bring, despite the heat making them quite uncomfortable. It was the kind of aggravating, fine grit that it would take a couple of showers to shift it out of whatever nook and cranny it found.

Thanks to the lazy rotationThe planet's lazy rotation meant dawn took its sweet time reaching the colony, painting the sky in gradual layers of pink and gold that would have been beautiful if they hadn't illuminated such unforgiving terrain.

The diner that Nails and I made our way towards offered a panoramic view of the red earth that stretched to the horizon, broken only by the silver threads of mag-rails tracks connecting the hub around the spaceport to the far flung mines.

Given our limited prep time and the need for a location that struck a decent balance between a crowd we could get lost in and solid exfil routes, it presented itself as the least worst option.

Stepping past windows that had never seen a proper clean we pushed our way through the doors, greeted by wheeze of air recyclers fighting the smell of grease and burnt coffee so strong it left a film on the back of your throat.

Nails catalogued the rooms occupants in seconds. "Looks like the Rocs are already settled in," she said, indicating Ramirez, Thompson and Chen at the bar with the slightest nod.

The three of them had been there long enough to have empty plates of whatever the cook was able to slap together here and were now nursing drinks and holding down the fort.

Ramirez, the team leader, shot us a casual glance over her cup. We'd brought them with us from a station a system over just in case and dressed them up like local security.

It still felt strange having that kind of pull. Six months ago I was on my last tour in The Regiment and Nails was working ship security for some high end "transportation specialist" near the Fringes. Now, we worked directly for Keeler, the head of a PMC called Peregrine Solutions.

To anyone else in the company, we worked for whatever division made sense but to Keeler, our designation was Seraphim.

Even with that confidence in our abilities, Keeler had insisted on bringing some support on our first outing unsupervised and I hadn't disagreed.

We walked past them to the far end and took up our spot in a corner booth, two tables over from our protectee. Mara Steele's table choice was textbook Corvus Insight selection which was no surprise for someone who had been working for the intelligence arm of Peregrine for as long as she had. She had probably written the damn book.

She put on the show of an off-worlder just passing through on business while waiting for a train, her fingers dancing over a propped up datapad while occasionally taking sips from a coffee sat next to it. At no point did she even so much as hint she knew us.

Nails started scanning the menu, her shoulders dropping half an inch now that she had walls and a ceiling around her. Her stack city upbringing and a working life spent in space betrayed her every time she stepped under an open sky.

"Orders?" she asked, not looking up from the food options.

"Tea?"

"No chance of that. They've got some local herbal thing, fruit juice powder or synth-coffee."

"Brilliant. Juice it is then."

She nodded and signalled the server, ordering herself some eggs and hash, all of questionable origin.

Within a minute, the server dropped a plate of food on the table and scarpered like they were trying to avoid being blamed for its appearance. Nails attacked it like it owed her money.

"Wow," I muttered. "Remind me to never take you anywhere nice."

Squeezing words around the yellow mass in her mouth she said, "Manners are for folk who know when the next meal is coming Earth boy."

While Nails focused on fuel intake, I kept eyes on the scene outside. Crowds coalesced around the open platform just as a muffled tannoy announced the imminent arrival of a mag-train. The whine of its approach cut across the diner's quiet, everyone raising their voices a little to keep conversations going.

Movement in my peripheral made me glance at Nails, whose eyes had just flicked to something at my six in the same instant a hand settled on my shoulder.

"Our friend is here. Purple coat with green stripes," a hushed voice said, barely carrying over the general din of the room.

I grabbed some sugar packets from the basket on the table and turned to offer them to Mara. "Roger ma'am. Ready to leave when you are."

She just smiled, took the offered cover for her trip over and returned to her seat.

Turning back I caught Ramirez's raised eyebrow pointed in my direction over her coffee. My slight nod confirmed her question, it was game time.

The contact came through the door and bee-lined for Mara.

As they passed our table Nails fork stopped just before her mouth. "It's a bad scan," she muttered, slowly lowering the fork back down.

"What do you mean?"

"He's not reading right for someone doing a drop." She was clearly fighting the want to stare at them as they sat down across from Mara.

"They're nervous. We expected that."

She pushed her plate away, setting the cutlery on it carefully. "No offense intended Carter but you worked combat not enforcement. My gut is screaming at me that they're the wrong kind of nervous."

I fixed Nails with a stare to get her attention away from the meet. "Remember what that trainer said, our differences are our strengths. Lay it out for me."

She took a stabilising breath before talking. "A nervous CI would watch everything that moves. The armed security at the bar didn't even register with them but all of the exits did. He's not afraid of us, he's afraid of what comes next."

"Right then." I leaned back, projecting a calm I didn't feel. "What's the play?"

Nails hand found her collar and started rubbing it, muscle memory from working problems while geared for combat. "Use the drones we don't have to scout the area and the intelligence we didn't have time to collect to make sure everything matches the local normal. Failing that we use eyes, instincts and wing it."

I couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Unfortunately, easy wasn't in the job description."

She shifted her attention to the view outside where the morning's pink light was finally giving way to the harsh glare that would bake the colony for the next eighteen hours. "It doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."

I followed her gaze, trusting the Rocs to handle the diner. The worker traffic that been a constant all morning had thinned to almost nothing.

A concerned look came over her face. "I thought we were still in shift change?"

I gave a slight shrug of my shoulders. "Could be we got the times wrong."

"Could be." Her tone suggested she didn't believe it any more than I did.

The screech of metal chair leg on cheap tile announced the meeting's end. The contact moved past our booth with barely controlled urgency, definitely with the 'controlled flight' bracket instead of a nice, casual departure.

Not wanting to wait for the other shoe to drop I shifted to the edge of the booth. "Take Mara and use exfil Bravo. I'll grab the Rocs and follow."

She gave a sharp nod and started moving, dropping seamlessly into ops mode.

Two steps towards the bar and a screech of tires on tarmac came from outside, followed almost immediately by the sharp crack of gunfire. The thunder of several bursts from a high caliber weapon sent vibrations through the diner's cheap construction.

My pistol was already clear of its holster before I had turned towards the commotion.

In the middle of the road, the contact was laying face down on the deck in a slowly expanding pool of red.

Just barely out of sight further up the road was a pickup loaded to the gills with local militia all geared up for a fight.

There was a second of stillness while the diner's occupants twigged onto what was occurring. All at once, a mad rush began with most of the patrons making their way to whatever exit out the back they could find. The Rocs had put themselves over the bar and drawn their PDWs, ready for whatever came next.

One of the militia had dismounted and run straight for the bag next to our late contact, dispelling any notion that this didn't involve us in some way. Thankfully, the glare from the windows and their own lack of competency kept us hidden for the moment.

I turned to the Rocs, catching Nails and Mara making their move for the kitchen in the corner of my eye. "Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Cover us and the civvies and follow on."

They gave me determined nods as an answer.

The last few patrons had decided to hunker down instead of run. I stepped over to them, channelling my old drill sergeant. "We have you covered. Unless you want to be a corpse, take the back exit and run!"

My command proved almost too effective because in their haste, one of the patrons caught a tray, sending crockery and cutlery to the floor.

Outside, the noise was clearly the last piece of the puzzle the militia needed. The one at the contact waved in out direction and they began to swarm towards us.

"Forget ROE, light these arseholes up!" I hissed at the Rocs, pushing the civvies past them. "As soon as we're clear, drop every banger you have and move. RZ Echo if you can."

The first rounds from outside spider-webbed the windows just as the Rocs opened up with their PDWs, the lighter rattle joining the cacophony our world had just become.

I managed to turn a little while urging on the remnants of the crowd, placing a few aimed shots of .45 ACP into places their recipients weren't fond of having them.

Leaving Ramirez and her team to their job, I moved through the kitchen at the end of the bar and followed the patrons out through the storage room into the alley beyond.

---

The alley behind the diner was narrow enough I could have just about touched both sides with my arms stretched out. Nobody used this route because they wanted to. The prefab buildings either side rose like canyon walls, their cheap composite construction showing the weathering that was unavoidable this close to the barrens.

Mara and Nails were looking in opposite directions away from the doorway with weapons drawn, almost mirror images of each other. Despite her background, Mara clearly had been given some extra training at some point.

I tapped Nails on the shoulder, letting her know I was there. "If I remember right, it should be a straight shot three blocks over through these alleys to the-"

"No." She cut me off and flicked her head upwards slightly. "We've got a snag."

Following her directive, I spotted a drone moving around above the buildings. It was hard to tell from this distance but it didn't look like a security unit, private or otherwise. Somebody had clearly borrowed a prospecting drone and were running a poorly executed grid search of the alleys and surrounding streets.

"It's not professional," Nails said, "but if the drone jockey spots us we're just as screwed."

I briefly considered just knocking it out of the sky but if Nails and her uncanny aim hadn't already done it, it wasn't a real option.

"This is your terrain. What's the play?"

"We go through the buildings. Standards don't plan for it but you can bet there will be extra walkways and corridors connecting most of these buildings together." She was already moving towards the nearest building's rear entrance.

It was unlocked and she let her pistol lead the way inside. I stepped aside to allow for Mara to move to the middle of our pack and followed, stepping into the lower hallway of a residential block next to a mostly full bike rack. The lights above were just enough to operate under but after the harsh light of outside it took a few seconds to adjust.

The building shook slightly as the Rocs initiated their own escape plan, the sound of the bangers finding its way through the open doorway.

Using one of the bikes, I jammed the door shut. At worst it would delay anybody chasing us.

We started moving in single file, Nails leading the way with the confidence borne of somebody who had grown up in similar circumstances to those living around us.

As we stopped for a moment a few levels up I turned to Mara and said, "You doing good?"

"This isn't exactly my first rodeo working with Seraphim," she replied, her voice steady and almost unbothered. "Though normally the gunfights don't start until after lunch at least."

Nails directed us through a communal area on this level, the few residents who were there carefully avoiding acknowledging we even existed. Not their monkeys, not their circus.

On the other side, somebody had punched a hole in the wall and built a short walkway over the gap between the buildings. It was the kind of thing colonists did when the environment did its best to make life miserable.

We moved through several more buildings in a similar manner, changing levels as needed and even taking a basement route from one half of a building to another when we encountered a blockage. The route wasn't anything close to a straight line and it wasn't fast but it both kept us out of sight of any eyes in the sky and hopefully kept our destination hidden from anybody who managed to follow us.

We eventually stopped on an open air stairwell on the fourth level overlooking a four lane road with no links across it close to hand. The road was nothing but open dirt designed to handle larger mining vehicles and completely empty, all traffic likely being diverted away from here. Directly opposite us, a rugged pickup was tucked in between some storage units where we had left it.

Scanning the street from one side of the landing, my stomach dropped as a militia vehicle with a mounted gun on the back turned the corner further up and started to make its way down. "Well, that's not ideal."

Nails pressed herself to the other side and pulled a scope to get a better look at it. "Two tangoes inside as well. They're going too slow and looking around too much to be anything but a patrol."

In the other direction, a large mining crew vehicle joined the road and pulled over not long after. From it a group of militia troopers climbed out wearing matching, if cheap, rigs with radio handsets attached to the shoulder strap. The gun placement and the way the discipline in their movements showed these were closer to actual security forces than the weekend warriors we'd seen so far.

They acknowledged the moving vehicle as it drove past and continued its path turning down the side street the new arrivals had come from.

I pointed Nails in their direction and she spat the expletive I'd been thinking. She grabbed her collar and leant out as far as she dared, looking in every direction she could. "What do you think, off duty security or something else?"

"At this point does it matter?"

"I guess not. We're in a bad position. The nearest bridge over is too far off and we've clearly burned too much time getting here as it is."

"What about getting the Rocs to sort us out a distraction?"

She stepped back and looked around the stairwell. "One of the new guys has a radio pack on that'll have a lot more range than the little things on their belts. I wouldn't want to risk it right now."

Looking at the militia group I could spot the radio operator, who also seemed to be the one in charge. The rest were stood with them at the front of the vehicle while the radio man pointed at the buildings closest to them.

"Whatever it is we do, it had better be soon. That patrol won't be gone forever and it's not going to take long for them to get this far down the street."

Pulling her knife from a boot sheath, Nails started moving up the next set of stairs. "I've got something but it's a bit unconventional. How good are you with a sling?"

"A what?"

She grabbed a sheet someone had left out to dry and started cutting strips from it. "A sling. You know, like David and Goliath."

"I know what a sling is, but how is throwing rocks going to help us?"

Coming back to us, she started shoving the strips into my hand and then knelt down, pulling her bag around. From inside it she pulled out a pair of bangers and set them on the floor. "Not rocks Carter, a distraction. This building has roof access two floors up and with a good throw we should be able to keep them searching left while we go right."

"Where the hell did Keeler find you?" Mara asked as Nails fashioned the cut strips into makeshift slings, her hands moving with the kind of muscle memory that spoke of previous experience with improvised weapons.

"Working with a smuggler named Thorne but this little trick is from the stack cities. When you don't have much to start with, sometimes you have to get creative."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I've done some wild things but I never thought I'd be using stone age weaponry to get me out of a jam."

Finished with the slings, Nails scooped up the bangers and started up the stairs. "Don't knock it Carter. We even used these in the Orbital Guard a few times to deliver packages through zero gee."

We followed behind up two levels before stopping at a roof access door. Nails checked it, finding it unlocked.

"It doesn't look like that drone's around so we've got some time. After you," she said, holding the door open with a smile.

Leaving Mara to use the last landing on the stairway to keeping an eye on the militia out front, we made our way to the far edge of the roof where there was enough open space to make use of our slings.

Handing me a sling and banger Nails said, "Set it for a five second timer. That should allow for time to throw and get it bursting in the air between the buildings if possible. Also, go for distance. It doesn't matter much where it is, just that it's far away."

"Rog. Worst case we can kick it off the edge too."

Nails shrugged. "As long as they don't enter this building, I don't really care."

With both of us set, Nails started a countdown. At zero, we both primed the bangers, loaded them in the sling and after a quick revolution (or two in my case) sent them on their merry way.

My banger veered left and bounced between some buildings opposite but as ever, Nails aim was true and hers sailed far down and away from us.

We started moving as soon as the bangers had cleared our slings and were halfway to the stairwell when the twin roars of them detonating shattered whatever remained of the morning's silence.

Ripping the door open, we bounded down the stairs and stopped just enough to get a report from Mara.

She turned to us and said, "Street's clear. Anyone still outside double timed it through whatever door was close by."

Nails leant out to confirm and after a quick glance started leading the way down the stairs. "We need to get down and across now. That roving truck could really ruin things if it turns up again."

Moving with purpose, we hit the bottom floor in short order and collected ourselves at a door leading to the street. Popping it open a little, Nails double checked it was still clear.

Pushing it open the rest of the way, she started sprinting across the clear roadway followed closely by Mara and then myself.

Wasting no time, Nails plucked a key from under the vehicle and unlocked it.

Before she climbed into the back seats, she threw me the key. "You drive. I'm going to unpack the rifle case and set up."

With a thumbs up in reply, I clambered into the drivers seat and hit the start button as soon as Mara was in and belted.

---

The motors had barely spooled up and I had us pulled out onto the road and moving away from the parked militia vehicle.

As I made the turn, movement in the sky caught my eye before the roof covered that angle. "Mara, is that drone coming our way?"

She leaned down and looked towards the buildings we had left. "Not just in our direction but directly at us and vectoring to a higher altitude."

Twisting around from unpacking her rifle, an OD-17 much like the ones she carried in her Guard days, Nails looked as well. "Shit. Get us out of here Carter. Now"

Keeping the speed steady as I approached the junction. "If I gun it, they're going to know who we are. Why not play colonist and see what happens?"

"Do you see any other traffic? They already know and I'm not wasting bullets trying to knock it out of the sky. Just go."

"Rog," was my reply as I buried my foot and pulled the pickup left around the corner faster than the pickup's suspension appreciated.

With her rifle now assembled, Nails spun her pistol round and beat the back window out of the frame and letting it fall into the bed. Leaning out, she looked above us to check for company.

"Yep, that drone has us. If you can, take some side streets. It won't stop the drone seeing us but it'll make it a pain whoever is trying to intercept us."

Pushing the brakes to their edge, I guided us into a path that ran between some taller hab blocks. "Already on it."

The oversized tyres found purchase on the rough surface between the buildings, the motor whining as I pushed it harder. I took a few more turns to keep us away from main roads while keeping us pointed in the general direction of the colony's main hub.

Our luck only held for so long though and things started going sideways just as I pulled us onto a wider road between two blocks.

"Behind us," Nails said, already bracing her rifle on the window frame. "Technical incoming."

The militia vehicle with the mounted gun rounded the corner behind us, leaning hard and fishtailing slightly as its driver eschewed the brakes in favour of getting to us.

The rear gun was swinging around as I yanked the wheel left, breaking through a flimsy, low slung fence and took us into a storage yard.

Our vehicle handed the change in terrain fine but the technical followed easily. With a clear sight, the gunner opened up and rounds started cracking around the truck. The heavy rounds that didn't spark off whatever surface they found hit the floor and lifted the ever present dust into the air, ready to clog up filters and spoil my ability to see upcoming dangers.

Nails sent some rounds back but the unstable terrain spoiled even her aim.

To break line of sight, I began weaving in between storage units and around construction vehicles as fast as the truck would allow.

"Nails, what's the least amount of time you'd need to deal with our tail?" I called into the back.

She pushed her rifle into the corner and braced hard into it. "Five seconds?"

Spotting another roadway close by, I repointed the vehicle in that direction. "Let's hope the gunner takes more to get a bead on us."

Crushing another low, chain link fence the vehicle hit the road and I pointed it straight, holding it as steady as I could. In the mirror I saw the technical follow us out a few heartbeats later.

Three cracks from the OD-17 sounded off from the back in quick succession.

The technical's windscreen spider-webbed, then the vehicle swerved hard into a parked vehicle before flipping, ejecting the rear gunner.

"Vic down," she reported, not moving from her position. "No time to celebrate though, that armoured one has caught up."

The heavier militia vehicle had appeared in my mirrors, its armoured bulk moving faster than it had any right to. After a quick scan of the surroundings to get my bearings I pulled the truck into a side road in the direction of the central hub.

Planet security might not care about what goes on in the sprawl but if I brought the trouble to them, there was a chance we'd make it out of this.

Much as before, I kept us off of a straight line but this time with an aim in mind. The pickups electric drive gave us instant torque and better weight distribution but the militia's diesel hybrid gave it the long term power to keep up even if it was slower in the turns.

Nails rifle still barked every now and again, leaving

"Mara, I need you to comm our contact at the port. Whether we deal with our pursuer or not, we'll be needing to get off planet quick."

Without hesitation, she pulled a slim hand comm from her jacket. "On it."

As soon as the connection was made, her comm discipline was textbook. Without saying exactly why, how or when she arranged for a lift back up to our ship currently docked in orbit in under thirty seconds.

It was when she disconnected I realised how silent the back seat was. "Nails, any reason you aren't shooting?"

"Because, Carter, as you put it in prep 'we're not going to need anything too heavy' and only brought the 6.8 with me. If any of these idiots pop their heads out I've got them but the worst I'm going to do to that thing is scratch the paint."

Pulling the vehicle onto a circumference road where the traffic was starting to pick up, I finally laid eyes on an entrance to the underground road network that served the hub.

"Next time, ignore me. For now, use that loopy stack brain of yours to get me a solution."

The tyres squealed on the change in surface as I yanked the wheel right, ducked between two civvie cars and piloted the truck into the tunnels.

Our own lights came on automatically, illuminating what the overhead lights couldn't quite manage. The massive and overbright beams from the armoured militia truck announced its arrival as they followed.

---

The traffic in the tunnel was lighter than I hoped but heavy enough to provide some cover. I wove between cargo haulers and commuters, using them to block line of sights as much as possible.

"They're still gaining," Nails reported from the back. In the mirrors I could see the larger vehicle bullying their way through the civilian vehicles.

Despite my best efforts, they had closed the gap to a couple of car lengths with a minute of us going underground, the headlights now beginning to flood the interior with harsh white light.

Several reports from Nails' rifle reverberated through the truck and the lights stopped being a problem.

"My eyes thank you," I shouted back, pulling us around another hauler in the vain hope it would slow them.

"Nails, the top hatches are opening," Mara called out. The worry in her voice clear.

Glancing in the mirror, I could see rifle barrels start to rise out ahead of whatever merc decided now was the time to go hot. "Where the hell are hub security?" I muttered, pulling the truck into the emergency lane on the other side of a line of auto-haulers, leaving a handful of millimetres between us and the back of the convoy as I did so.

The move was too late for the militia vehicle to follow but I could see it in the gaps between carriages as we travelled through the clear lane, still not gaining much on it.

In the back, Nails dropped a window on the side with the controls and braced her rifle against the frame, aiming at the militia vehicle through the line of haulers we were rapidly approaching the front of.

Keeping my pace up, we would still be ahead as we emerged. "Ten seconds to engagement. I'm going to slow us the moment I see that thing so be ready to shoot when they pass us."

Nails slapped the back of the chair in reply with her off hand.

The time seemed to crawl as we covered the last meters.

We passed the front of the auto-hauler convoy and almost immediately I hit the brakes as the militia opened fire on us.

The manoeuvre managed to keep most of the rounds ahead of us, sparking off of the road and walls of the reinforced tunnel. The few that did hit the truck thankfully missed anything vital.

The response from the civilians around us was immediate and they scattered. Some sped up, others pulled over and some just stopped where they were.

The militia vehicle lined up with us and Nails started ripping shots off, following the targets as they passed us.

Swinging around behind them, I saw the remaining gunmen duck back inside instead of staying in the firing line.

Changing speed and position in the small engagement caught the other driver unaware and as they slowed and moved to keep me behind, a helpful stopped vehicle allowed me to push ahead and get back in front.

With the way now clearing due to the gunfire, the militia vehicle was able to slowly catch us. The lack of traffic left me few opportunities but I managed to keep the larger vehicle both behind and away.

"Nails, I'm running out of options here. Tell me you've got something brewing back there."

She was already rummaging around. "Mara, quick inventory. What've you got up there?"

Checking under the dash, her chair and at her side, Mara scanned through everything. "Survival kit, a small tool bag and a med pack."

"Survival kit and med pack," Nails said immediately holding out her hand.

Taking the offered items, she turned to the bed through the window. Reaching through, she pulled back a mining torch that had been secured to the side. With speed and purpose, she pulled an emergency flare from the survival kit and used medical tape to secure it onto the tank she removed from the torch.

"Carter, when I tell you, I need you to drop back and sit as close to the front of them as you can.

"Great idea. When fighting a Lion the best thing to do is to stick your head in its mouth."

Reaching forward, she put a hand on my shoulder. "Trust me."

The look of determination that met me in the rear view mirror was strong. I also didn't really have any other options. "On your mark."

Turning back around, she placed the IED on the seat and took a deep breath.

"Do it now!"

I eased my foot on the brake just enough to let the other truck catch up and released it as we made contact. The impact with the larger vehicle shook us hard but Nails kept her place and ignited the flare as contact was made.

With one fluid motion she threw the tank with her off hand while drawing her sidearm and bringing it to aim.

A clang of metal on metal as the tank connected with the trucks reinforced front was followed by a series of shots from Nails. It only took three for one to connect and puncture the tank.

Whether because of the resulting explosion or just the general shock of the attack, the other driver pulled their vehicle to the side. What they failed to do was see the line of haulers we had been approaching and collided with the rear of the final coach.

The crunch of truck meeting hauler was loud enough to be heard over the emergency klaxons that had started up with the detonation and the angle caused the truck to spin in place.

I wasn't expecting the impact and explosion to completely disable it but there was no way they would be able to catch us now.

"Tango Down," Nails said, settling back down and taking a breather.

"Hub security will surely be here before too long", Mara added, eyes transfixed on the scene behind us.

Pulling across to a lane marked as leading to the spaceport I said, "We're not going to be here long enough for that to be a problem."