Nigel Findley - House of the Sun

Down in the elevator we went-me, Pohaku, and Akaku'akanene. Another call from the ex-Ali'i had arranged for a car-a Toyota Elite, as it turned out, gleaming like brushed stainless steel under the lights of the underground parkade. My little entourage piled in-Alana Kono was waiting for us inside-and we were off, howling westward along the semideserted streets.

It wasn't what you'd call a comradely ride. Akaku'akanene was talking to geese again, staring off into space like a chiphead. Alana Kono looked like she might be up for friendly conversation… if her boss, Pohaku, hadn't been doing his best imitation of a slotted-off statue. So I sighed and settled back in the upholstery, trying to relax… and trying to figure out just what the frag I'd gotten myself in to.

Out onto the Kamehameha Highway we hurtled, me wondering idly what it would be like being descended from someone they named fragging highways for-and westward toward the airport.

And past the airport. Lord knows, I was no expert at Honolulu geography, but I could recognize an airport when I saw it flashing by at 200 kilometers per hour. I leaned forward and rapped hard on the kevlarplex partition. "Hey, slot!" I yelled at the driver. "You missed the fragging turn"-I hesitated-"didn't you?"

Pohaku's iron-hard hand on my shoulder pulled me back. He sneered at me and pointed out, "You think we're going to the civilian field… e ku'u hakul" His tone of voice turned the term of respect into the foulest of epithets.

"Where, then?" I shot back, loading my response with as much sarcasm as I could generate on the spur of the moment.

Pohaku didn't even bother to answer. Instead he just turned away, and pointedly stared at nothing out the Elite's window.

Alana Kono touched my arm, and she shot me a slightly embarrassed grin. Apparently, she'd finally decided that her job description might just include acting like a human being after all. "Kaiao Field, Mr. Dirk," she explained softly. "Used to be Hickham Air Force Base."

I sat back and tried to pretend I was as unconcerned as Akaku'akanene. But it wasn't easy. Jam or no jam, did Gordon Ho really think he still had any influence over the military?

Within a matter of minutes the Elite slowed, and we took a long sweeping left onto a minor connecting road. A few hundred meters to our right, I could see the floodlights and warning signs of a military compound. Ahead of us was…

Well, nothing that I could see. It was pitch black… ap¬parently all the way to the horizon. The only illumination came from the headlights of the Toyota limo.

Finally, after a minute more, those lights fell on a heavy-duty chain-link fence topped with hair-thin lines of refracted light that I identified as monowire. A sign on the fence read, "Lahui Mea Ki'ai o Hawai'i." Basically meaningless, until I saw the translation in small letters underneath: "Hawai'i National Guard."

The Elite sighed to a stop in front of a reinforced gate. Uniformed guards double-timed it toward the limo from an armored guard post, then suddenly snapped salutes to the car-or anything else that happened to be in their field of vision-and double-timed it right back to the guard post. The gate rolled back silently, and the Elite accelerated through.

Out onto the apron of a small airbase we drove, hanging a sharp left and finally to a stop in front of what looked like an administration building. A uniformed NCO-a troll, looking entirely too spit-polished-opened the door of the limo and snapped me a textbook-perfect salute as I climbed out. "Welcome, sir!" he damn near bellowed. "If you'll come this way…?"

Believe me-I've never been one of these hard-case slots who thinks that happiness is a warm gun, but…

By Ghu, it felt good to wrap my hands around something with a little more authority than a pistol, let me tell you that, chummer. The spit-polished troll presided over a load-out that would have left an NRA nut juicing his jeans. Basically, I'd been given my choice of any personal arms and armor I wanted from the Hawai'i National Guard's extensive collection. Full-on battle armor? What's your size, hoa? Panther assault cannon? Would you like that with or without a smartlink, sir?

Don't get me wrong-I didn't go overboard. There are people out there who think they're innately capable of handing top-drawer military hardware. Active battlesuits? Man-pack miniguns? Bring'em on!

Not me. Frag, I remember how much it affected my balance the first time I tried on a suit of heavy security armor during my Lone Star Academy training. I fragging near did a face-plant when I tried to get up off the bench. Any sales slot who tells you "Anyone can wear any kind of armor, right off the shelf is giving you the major song and dance, trust me.

So I crammed my fears way down deep into the back of my brain, and I kept tight rein on my impulses. No heavy security armor or miniguns for this kid. I picked out a nice, familiar set of Level 3 form-fitting body armor, and-okay, maybe I overreached myself on this one-an Ares high-velocity assault fire. As an afterthought, I picked myself out a nice assault vest-basically, a harness with the sole purpose of carrying an obscene number of spare ammo clips- and I was ready.

When I came out of the armory, my "troops" were waiting for me: Pohaku, Kono, and eight hoop-kicking military types.

Well, okay, apparently they weren't my troops. When I stumbled out, weighed down with lethal ordnance and feeling like a cheap knockoff of Slade the Sniper, they didn't spare me so much as a glance. Instead, their attention seemed focused entirely on Pohaku. For a moment I considered bitching about it, but then my better judgment overrode the testosterone overload the armory seemed to have caused. What the frag did I know about leading troops? Sweet frag all, that's what. Much better to leave it to someone who at least thought he was qualified.

Pohaku's expression told me he shared my viewpoint. He spared the time to shoot me a nasty sneer, then turned to my "troops" and snapped, "E hele!" The fire-team took off at double-time, with Pohaku picking up the rear. Kono was there, too, and she gave me what could have been a smile of sympathy. But then she was double-timing it after the combat troops as well.

Akaku'akanene was still hanging back, waiting for me. The shaman hadn't slapped on any armor or picked up any weaponry; apparently, she was content with her shapeless sack of a dress. She turned to me and gave me a gap-toothed smile.

Wonderful. Moral support from someone who talked to geese. I turned and jogged after the receding backs of me military types.

Out onto the apron we went, and I saw my contingent piling aboard a Merlin, a tilt-winged VTOL built along the same lines as a Federated-Boeing Commuter, but much smaller. I glanced back over my shoulder. Akaku'akanene was bringing up the rear, but at her own casual pace. The Merlin was already spooling up its engines, and I considered yelling something to hurry the old scag up…

And that's when I froze in my tracks. Not my idea-every goddamn muscle in my body seized up on me at once. I teetered for a moment on one foot, then started to overbalance as the vulcanized composite of the apron began to swing up toward my face.

In that instant my muscles unlocked again, and I did the kind of broad, lurching recovery that you expect from circus clowns. Cursing under my breath, I looked around me, knowing what I'd see.

There he was, just as I expected. Quinn Harlech, or whatever the frag his name was. He was cloaked in shadow… even though the section of the apron he stood on was well lit. He was wearing some kind of military uniform, but a couple of decades out of date. If his grin had been any broader he'd have swallowed his pointy ears as he swaggered up to me.

I glanced back over my shoulder. Akaku'akanene was a few meters behind me, looking madder than a wet cat. She was frozen in midstride, precariously balanced on the toe of one foot and the heel of another. She could still breathe, but she didn't have any fine muscular control of her throat or mouth-I knew that because her attempts to curse and bitch came out like, "Aaaaargh, aaaargh!"