Rich Man's War (19 page)

* * *

Time to quit while I’m ahead
. Tanner left the weapons station to climb into the turret. He found the hatch impossible to open, and then cursed himself for an idiot. He’d all but buried the tank in the collapsing floors above. The hatch could have a half ton of debris sitting on top of it. He needed another way out.

Tanner crouched down on the platform so he could read the internal viewscreens again. The front of the hull looked clear, he realized, and he might find an overhead hatch or two there. He slipped one foot off the platform, then the other, and heard someone groan, “Oh God, help me.”

He froze.
That’s English.

The
man lay right in front of him, having fallen from the other turret hatch platform onto the deck in a wounded sprawl. He sounded nothing like a Hashemite with that accent. The wounded man fought to pull off his helmet.

One could surely find blond men and English speakers in Hashem. Tanner took such diversity for a given. Yet the incongruity of this man in this tank remained. Further, Tanner realized, he wore no unit patch nor rank insignia.

Tanner pulled off the fallen man’s left glove and found a sturdy, high-quality holocom on his wrist. “Wait,” the man tried to protest, but his words fell on deaf ears. Tanner tore the device from the man’s arm, then rushed for the escape hatch at the front of the vehicle.

Behind him, Abnett coughed once and slumped back onto the deck. “
Shit,” he winced.

* * *

Dust and debris fell from the hatch as it popped open. Tanner climbed out as fast as he could. If the soldiers at the end of the street regrouped and made a quick advance, or if the other tank followed the first, he knew he’d never make it out of the wrecked building.

To his relief, he found his comrades hurriedly picking their way through the wreckage. “Tanner, let’s go!” Sanjay
shouted. “We gotta move!”

Tanner rolled off of the tank’s hull, falling and jabbing himself with more debris for his trouble, but he
pushed past the pain and rose to his feet. “Where are we going?”

“Out the back,” Vanessa said, gesturing to the hallway that still stood—more or less—behind him. “You got the front door open, seems like a waste not to take advantage. What are you holding?”

“Holocom from an officer in the tank. He didn’t look like a Hashemite. I figured it might be important…?”

Vanessa came to a halt, allowing Booker and Sanjay to overtake and pass them. She snatched the holocom from
Tanner and looked at it with wide eyes. Then she shoved it down a pocket of her long coat and grabbed his arm. “Come on,” she urged. “We’re on our own.”

“The ship…?” Tanner asked as he followed.

“Still needs a distraction!” called Booker. “Those assholes are pursuing, and that’s what we need them to do! Let’s go, Malone!”

He needed no further encouragement. Tanner followed Vanessa through
the wreckage to the hallway. The glass exit doors were shattered, either from the impact the tank made on the whole building or from Sanjay or Booker blasting their way out. Regardless, he saw Vanessa take a hard left turn as she made it into the street outside. He picked up the pace in order to keep up, made it outside and pivoted on his right foot to follow.

His knee bent, but seemed intent on going forward rather than turning. He felt something pop inside his leg as he collapsed on the sidewalk. Tanner tried to ignore the pain and pick himself up while leaning on his left leg, but taking the weight off his injured knee didn’t help him rise.

A soldier wheeled around the corner into the doorway, his rifle up and ready to fire. Another soldier rounded the corner while staying low, holding a kneeling position. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Less than ten meters separated Tanner from their guns.

He pushed up from the concrete with his hands, wanting to roll away, but someone’s foot shoved him back down to the ground again. He heard the coughing sound of a pulse rifle on rapid fire over his head and saw the soldiers fall under the barrage of energy blasts.

Vanessa roughly rolled Tanner onto his back, snatched the last grenade off of his jacket and hurled it down the hallway. He heard someone shout as it landed. The boom of the grenade and its flash of fire and smoke left screams in its wake.

“Are you hit?” she barked.

“It’s my knee,” he said, trying to rise once more. He found himself capable of at least sitting upright. “I’m not hit, but I fucked up my knee.”

She didn’t listen for further details. Vanessa simply shoved the rifle into one of his hands, then grabbed his arms at the wrists and pulled. Before Tanner knew it, she had him over her shoulders in
a fireman’s carry.

Down the street he saw Booker and Sanjay pause in their flight. Given Vanessa’s quick movements and his awkward position, he couldn’t track much; as soon as she turned, he lost sight of his shipmates. Vanessa let out a determined growl as she launched herself into a run, naturally moving slower than before but surprising Tanner with her pace just the same.

The rifle in his hands bumped once against the concrete before he shifted his grip to keep it up. He looked back the way they came and saw movement, but by then more pulse rifle blasts flew down the street as Booker provided covering fire.

“Get him down here!” Booker called as Vanessa caught up. “I’ll carry him.”

“No, I’ve got this,” Vanessa said. “Stick to the plan. Sanjay needs to get us a vehicle and you’ve gotta lead. I’m okay. He’s not heavy.”

“Christ, you gotta be kidding me,” Tanner grumbled, feeling useless.

“What?” Vanessa huffed. “Got a problem being rescued by a girl?”

“Yeah,” Tanner shot back, “of all the shit that’s gone wrong today,
that’s
what I’m upset about!”

“Is he being sarcastic?” she asked one of his shipmates. He couldn’t tell which. His head still hung entirely in the wrong direction to follow the conversation.

“Most of the time, seems like,” answered Sanjay.

“Stow it! Sanjay, move!” ordered Booker.

Tanner tried to keep up with what was going on, but Vanessa turned and jostled too much. His upside-down view alternated between Sanjay hauling ass down the street, Booker calling out turns and working to keep the group together while he ran, random views of seemingly empty buildings and parked vehicles, and the tank that appeared at the far end of the street behind them.

Though he’d never given it serious thought, Tanner always assumed a tank’s turret wouldn’t turn so fast. “Tank!” he called out. “Tank behind us—!”

The vehicle’s weapons drowned out the rest of his words. Its main cannon let loose with a blinding red beam that demolished a parked hovertruck nearby. Vanessa wobbled as she ran, but never ceased in her flight. Tanner heard the ricochets of many bullets against all manner of unintended targets as the anti-personnel guns on top of the turret chased them out of the street and into a small alley.

“Sanjay, double back!” called Booker. Vanessa came to a halt. Tanner watched as his fellow crewman reversed his course through the alley, but Booker continued through. “We’ll fake them out,” Tanner heard Booker explain as he ran to the far end of the alley.

Sanjay rushed past Vanessa and Tanner. Booker made it to the opposite end of the alley, tore a grenade from his jacket and hurled it into the street. Tanner heard the loud shriek and magnesium pops of the chaff grenade while Booker ran back up.

“How
are you doing, Malone?” Vanessa asked.

“Holding it together
. Is this gonna work?”

Something exploded in the next street over as if in answer. Tanner heard more roaring gunfire and ricochets, this time followed up by a second and third blast of the tank’s particle beam cannon. He saw the monstrous vehicle rush down the street, knocking aside debris as it shot past the alleyway. With the chaff grenade inhibiting sensors, the tank commander clearly preferred hot pursuit over standing off and waiting for his view to clear.

“Negative, captain, you’ve
gotta
make the consulate pick-up,” Tanner heard Booker say nearby. He craned his head around to find the breathless officer leaning against a wall. A holo screen floated beside Booker, but the lieutenant had his eyes on activity in the street—presumably Sanjay. Tanner couldn’t hear Kelly’s response, but he saw Booker argue emphatically, “Captain, the situation overhead is still the same! If they see you open up on that tank, you’ll be a target for the ships in orbit! We’re drawing them off, let us worry about evasion.”

“Has he been on with the ship this whole time?” Tanner
realized.

“Yes. Officers gotta multitask,” said Vanessa. “C’mon, Malone, keep up.”

“Still glad you followed us into that building?”

“Sure,” Vanessa grinned, her breath heavy but still holding up. “I’m a spy, Malone. All I have to do is drop you and find someplace to hide for a day or two and then pretend I’m a native. You’re the ones in trouble here, not me.”

“Good to know,” Tanner said to the concrete as he dangled from her shoulders.

“Move!” Booker called out. “That silver rover there, go!”

Vanessa took off, jostling Tanner over her shoulders until she got out onto the street again and came to the parked vehicle. She crouched and helped Tanner off her back. He managed to get into the back seat of the rover all on his own, growling at the pain in his right knee while hauling himself inside. He let his bad leg lay along the bench-style back seats. Tanner saw neither blood nor an obvious misalignment at his knee, but the pain told of a serious problem.

He pushed himself back along the seat, saving Vanessa from having to crawl on top of him as she followed inside. The door swung down behind her. Tanner glanced over to find Booker in the shotgun seat. Sanjay threw the vehicle into motion before the doors sealed shut.

“Mark VI,” Vanessa observed. “Good call. You’ve got fast hands.”

“Anyone want a vehicle security system?” Sanjay asked as he dropped a dislodged hunk of electronics hardware over his shoulder.

“Always appreciated your versatility, Sanjay,” grunted Booker. He pointed out toward one corner, directing Sanjay away from the last known position of the pursuing tank. “
Joan of Arc
, this is Booker,” he said into his holocom. “We have transportation and are moving away from the consulate.”

“Let me look at your knee,” said Vanessa. She produced a knife from one pocket and quickly sliced a long line up the leg of Tanner’s vac suit with sure hands. The expression on her face didn’t change as she examined his injury. “I don’t think it’s broken. Not a lot of swelling yet, but it’s only been a couple minutes,” she noted. “I think I can fix this here. You’ve got a corrective bandage in your pack. You’ll be sore, but mobile.”

* * *

“Damn, they’re gone,” Harris
fumed. His eyes swept the internal displays for any sign of his quarry but found nothing. Though he held out little hope, he activated the sound analyzer. A quick nod to his driver brought the vehicle to a halt while the computer listened.

The sullen Hashemite officer who technically commanded the tank sat at his station with his arms folded across his chest. He shot Harris another glare as the foreigner continued to give orders, but didn’t raise serious objections. The tank crew knew they’d been loaned to NorthStar for this. They had to play along until the operation was over… not that it seemed it’d be going on much longer.

“We have a vehicle moving one street over,” announced one of the tank crew.

“Get on it,” Harris replied.

“Mr. Harris,” said the tank commander, “your friend is alive.” He held out his holocom toward Harris and swiped one finger across the display in order to share the transmission. The computers took care of the rest.

“Abnett, you okay?” Harris asked.

“He’s got my holocom,” came the weak, coughing reply. “Fucking bastard tore off my holocom when he bailed out.”

“Aw, son of a bitch,” winced Harris. He didn’t need Abnett to explain the rest—the moron probably had any number of sensitive files on his personal holocom, and while it had to be encrypted,
no such security was foolproof. Harris looked up once more at the tactical screens and scanner feeds. The computer identified the fleeing vehicle as a rover through its sound profile. It was the only moving vehicle within a kilometer. “Go!” Harris shouted. “Get that rover now!”

* * *

Tanner let out a loud growl as the rover hit a bump, but he bit down on his urge to make more noise than that. Still sitting sideways on the bench seat, Tanner watched the thick green corrective bandage around his knee ripple and constrict. A small strip of circuits down one side of the bandage directed the application of various drugs, electrical shocks and pressure to cause a rapid realignment under the skin. Though the drugs included a couple of painkillers, Tanner still found the process exceptionally unpleasant.

“Will he be able to run?” Booker asked from the front seat.