Jay Posey - Morningside Fall

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Gamble said.

“We could go back in, start reinforcing floor by floor,” Finn said. “Start at the top, work our way down. See how far we get before they come. Try to get them choked up in the tight spots.”

“Take it to blade-work then,” Gamble said.

Finn nodded. “Haven’t had to reload one yet.”

Everyone stood silently considering. It would be hours of work, clearing and reinforcing each floor. And there was no telling when the Weir might actually launch their attack. For now they seemed to be content to stand out front, but Cass didn’t expect them to remain that way. Certainly when night came, the enclave would empty, and the full strength of the Weir would be upon them. And then they would have to fight until morning.

Images from the battle on the night they escaped Morningside flashed through her mind. They would never last.

“What about Lil?” Cass said.

Eyes turned to her.

“What about her?” Gamble replied.

“I could pim her. Maybe they could help.”

“I don’t see how,” Swoop said.

“I know they don’t look like much,” Cass answered, “but they lived in the open — in a village without walls — for years. They’re fighters.”

The team exchanged looks. Cass didn’t know what other options they thought they had. The sun was high, nearly noon already. “And they’re the only ones close enough to do anything.”

“Might not be time enough for them to get here and us to all make it back,” Finn said.

“Then we should probably ask them to get started now,” Cass said.

Can’t hurt to ask, Able signed. Maybe they know something we don’t.

Gamble gave a little nod. “Alright, do it.”

Cass pimmed Lil. She explained the situation as best she could, hoping to impress upon her how much trouble they were in — without making it sound like she was inviting them to certain death. After hearing it all, Lil told Cass she would talk to her people and see what they could come up with.

“She’s going to get back to us,” Cass told the others.

Five minutes passed. Ten. In the street below, the Weir remained pressed together, but they had thankfully given up their chant. The others had disappeared. Cass guessed they’d all returned to the shelter of the enclave. Mouse went to check on Wick again, and the rest of the team split time between watching the Weir and standing around restlessly.

Fifteen minutes. Still nothing.

“They’re not coming,” Swoop finally said. “And we’re losing on our own time here. I’m with Finn. Reinforce what we can, pull a staged retreat. Take as many of ’em as we can.”

“Roof as a final fallback,” Finn said. “Only one way up. Maybe we can choke the stairs with their dead. Make ’em change their minds.”

“If we blow the lower stairwell, we might be able to hold them there for a while.”

“How long do you think it’ll take to set up?” Gamble asked.

“Pretty much as long as we have,” Swoop said.

“Then let’s get started. Sky, keep eyes on, let us know if there’s any change. Mouse, stay close to Wick. Cass, Painter, I’m going to need you to come help.”

It was as they were crossing the roof back towards the stairwell that Lil finally pimmed Cass a simple message: “We’re coming.”

“Hold on,” Cass said to the team. “She says they’re coming. They’re on the way.”

“How long?” Gamble asked.

Cass asked Lil for an estimate, and communicated the reply. “Three hours.”

“And what’re they going to do when they get here?”

“Whatever you tell them to.”

Gamble thought for a moment, while the others stood by. “Mouse.” She waved him over, and they spoke together in lowered voices. “If we put him on a litter, can we move Wick out?”

“If we have to move him, yeah, that’s our best bet. But that’ll put us down three shooters.”

Gamble nodded. “You’ve got one?”

“Collapsible, in my pack, yeah.”

“You know when you whisper, I can tell you’re talking about me, right?” Wick called.

“We’re trying to decide whether to roll you down the stairs or just drop you over the edge,” Finn answered.

“Either one’s better than all this sitting around,” Wick said. He was trying to keep it light, but his voice already sounded thinner than usual.

“Swoop,” Gamble said, “how’s downstairs rigged?”

“Trip on the door, thirty-second delay off that on the stairs, plus another trip at the top.”

“How tough to rewire the door to a clacker?”

“Easy day… Unless they decide to come knockin’ while I’m workin’ on it.”

“Alright. Change of plans, gentlemen,” Gamble said. “We’re going to do some blockade running.”

“So, pretty much what I said the first time?” Swoop said.

“Yes, Swoop, you’re very smart, we should always listen to you, et cetera. We’ve still got to hold out three hours.”

Gamble quickly laid out the plan. Mouse, Sky, and the three principals would remain on the roof with Wick: Sky to relay information about the Weir and their movements, Mouse to keep an eye on Wick, and the others, Cass assumed, largely to stay out of the way.

Swoop, Finn, Able, and Gamble were all headed back down to the bottom floor to rewire the explosives. Or rather, the three of them would provide security while Swoop did the work. And if the Weir came while they were down there, they would try to make a withdrawal up the stairs while continually engaging.

“And if that doesn’t work…” Gamble said, looking at Cass with a flat expression. “Good luck.” She held out her jittergun to Cass.

“You keep it,” Cass said.

“Won’t do you any good if it’s on me and we get overrun.”

“Don’t get overrun then.”

Gamble extended the gun out further and bobbed it up and down, waiting for Cass to take it. Cass held her hand palm out, and then flipped it around. Her thin blades sprang from their housing under her fingernails with a snick. For a moment the two women just looked at each other. And then, with a sigh, Gamble returned the jittergun to her leg holster.

“I can come with you, you know,” Cass said.

Gamble shook her head. “Better up here. Puts four shooters top and bottom. Well… three shooters and Miss Fancy Nails up top, I guess.” She flashed a quick smile. “Back in a few.”

The four of them headed towards the stairs, but Finn stopped and jogged back. He knelt down by Wick and put his head against his brother’s, and whispered a few words. Wick gave a little nod and patted him on the cheek. Then Finn rejoined the others and they disappeared down the darkened corridor.

“What do we do?” Painter asked.

“I suppose we wait,” Cass said.

“And hope the Weir don’t get tired of just standing around,” Sky said. He gave a little nod and returned to his position at the edge of the roof. Painter went and found a place near one of the large ventilation shaft covers, where he could be in the sun, but out of the wind. He plopped his pack down to use as a pillow and stretched out on his back, with an arm over his eyes.

Wick, of course, was still sitting, propped against some of the packs, with his rifle laid across another one where he could keep it aimed at the door. Mouse grabbed two of the packs off the ground, one in each hand, and lugged them over towards the door. Cass guessed they were a good sixty pounds each, but he didn’t seem to have too much trouble with them. He swung the door shut with his foot, and then piled the packs in front of it, one on top of the other.

“Gamble, Mouse,” he said. “Door’s braced, let me know when you’re on your way back up.”