Jak Koke - Stranger souls

"Can you operate a minigun?" came Dhin's voice over the speakers.

"Not sure," Ryan said. "I think so."

"Then get back with Axler and Grind. Sit in the cupola and fire at the enemy when they come close enough."

Ryan moved into the rear compartment, which was slightly smaller than the central chamber and rilled with more equipment for monitoring adversaries. Axler sat at a console, keeping track of the defensive weaponry while Grind sat on a tall seat, looking out through the clear macroplast of the assault cannon's cupola.

The minigun's cupola was just aft from there. Ryan moved up the short ladder and settled into the seat as though he'd been born for the task. And as he looked at the controls, he discovered that he did know how to operate the gun. Instinctively he put his hands and forearms into the long, power-assisted reticulated metal gloves and practiced swinging the minigun's barrel around.

"Don't get comfortable, Ryan," Axler said. "We bail in two minutes."

"If we're still alive," said Grind.

"Right."

Ryan caught the radar tactical superimposed on the head's-up display and slued the big gun barrel around toward one of the incoming jets. They came fast, from near the border. Gaining on the T-bird, which was going full out toward the southern coast of the narrow isthmus. Ryan wasn't sure what Plan Beta was, but one thing was clear; the bogeys would catch up with the T-bird before it reached the

coast. And even if they did get to the bay first, they'd be easy to target over the water.

"One minute, thirty seconds to bail," came Axler's voice.

An alarm siren sounded. "We've been painted," said Dhin. "Hold on!"

The T-bird cut left suddenly, then dove into a narrow ravine in an effort to confuse the jet's missile lock. But the T-bird wasn't built to outrun a fighter; it was slower and less maneuvefable. Their only chance was to stay close to the ground and hope that the trees and hills would cover them.

Ryan strafed one of the jets as it flew by when Dhin abruptly decelerated. The minigun roared, a staccato barrage of sound as the heavy slugs flew. The tracer rounds formed a solid white line to show the path of the bullets. Then the jet was gone, and Ryan knew he had missed. It had all been way too quick.

"Sixty seconds to bail," Axler said.

"Launch!" cried Dhin. "We've got heat coming up our hoops."

"Can you hold it off until we reach-?"

Jane came on. "I've contacted the rebel mercenaries," she said. "They're in position and will wait three minutes before scattering."

Dhin was yelling now. "That missile is going to fry us in fifteen seconds unless Axler can take it out or confuse it." "I'm on it. I'm on it."

The ravine around them gave way to low hills covered by jungle. In a minute they'd be out over the water. Technically out of Aztlan. If they survived the missile hit.

"Chaff away now," Axler said.

Dhin pulled the T-bird into a short climb, and Ryan braced for impact. None came. But he didn't hear any explosion. "Blew past us," Dhin said. "Chaff confused its radar."

"Yes!" said Ryan. He found himself enjoying this.

"Don't celebrate!" Dhin said. "It's coming back around, and two more just locked on."

"Launch detected," came the computer.

"Bail in ten seconds," said Axler, standing up from her console to step into the central compartment and open the side door. Wind rushed in, and the scream of the T-bird's jets rasped in Ryan's head.

Grind and McFaren joined her, ready to jump. "Move, Ryan, move," Grind said. "We've only got one chance at this."

Ryan climbed down the minigun cupola and stepped up to the open side door. The jungle sped by just beneath them, the top of the canopy nearly brushing the base of the T-bird. The T-bird slowed suddenly, hovered for a second, then dropped. Ryan's stomach lurched as the big machine fell precipitately, down into a small clearing in the jungle that had been covered with camouflage netting.

"Now, Ryan, jump!"

Ryan followed the others out the side door, and Dhin came close behind them. Throwing himself out head first. Falling, falling. An odd feeling of deja vu crept over Ryan as he fell, as he flipped slowly in the air.

Falling, he saw the T-bird's huge jets spew fire. The machine lifted suddenly and accelerated into the sky, trying to continue its course southward. It didn't even reach the edge of the clearing before three missiles impacted with the reinforced steel frame, ripping it open. Blowing it into flaming hunks of red-hot metal.

Gone in an instant of violent chemicals. Vaporized.

The explosion's fireball singed Ryan's hair as he tucked himself into a ball. Shrapnel and sparks rained down around him. He landed in a huge camouflaged net, suspended from the trees at the edge of the clearing. The landing wasn't soft, but he was no worse for it. No bruises, no scrapes.

When he rolled out onto the jungle floor, he saw that he and the others were surrounded by men and women in jungle camouflage. Mercenaries, Ryan guessed. The rebels that Jane had contacted. One of the meres draped a poncho over Ryan's shoulders to hide him, and they were off through the jungle.

As they walked, Ryan catalogued their guides. He guessed there were no more than fifteen meres, most of them unaided by cybernetics or magic, but all well-trained in combat and field techniques. Axler told Ryan that these mercenaries worked with smugglers who brought in contraband from ships in the Canal region, across the border for eventual sale in Tenochtitlan. They were just as happy smuggling live contraband the other direction for some extra pesos.

Ryan heard the jets fly over once or twice as they hiked the kilometer to the border, but he couldn't see the aircraft through the jungle canopy, and he suspected the jet riggers would have just as hard a time spotting the camouflaged meres. The jungle canopy was just too dense. They slowed to a snail's pace as the undergrowth thickened up ahead, and as Ryan watched, the people ahead of him simply disappeared through some sort of veil. Vanished into the shadows.

Then Ryan too passed through the illusion. On the other side was a steeply sloping ravine covered over with vines and trees and undergrowth. It would be nearly impossible to see even without the magical illusion. The ravine cut down about twenty meters, the path at its base surprisingly level and well worn. Until it became a paved passageway. Concrete and cinderblock formed walls on either side and finally they entered a tunnel.

There was a guard at the tunnel entrance who detained them momentarily, speaking with one of the mercenaries before allowing them though. The underground passageway got them across the border and into the Panama Canal Zone. Out of Aztlan.

Axler stayed close to Ryan during the journey. She seemed to be in good spirits as the meres gave them new clothing to change into-California navy uniforms. They would be disguised as personnel operating off the Exeter helicopter carrier. Axler explained that California Free State had no navy to speak of, but its ships had been kept in use by the government and could be "rented" by the highest bidder. In this case, that meant Jane.

Their journey on to the Exeter went without a glitch. The mercenaries left them at a narrow beach on the south coast, where a small helicopter picked them up and flew them out over the water. Ryan was exhausted, but he felt almost safe again, though he didn't know why he should. The flight to the deck of the ship was brief, and as he stepped out of the helicopter, he was surprised to be greeted by one of the officers.

She was human, standing nearly as tall as Ryan. Broad shoulders and black skin. Her hair was cut utilitarian short. "Are you Quicksilver?" she asked.

He paused for a second, considering. Then he said, "Yes, I think so."