“Of course,” I responded, “expectation and reality aren’t always the same thing. I am definitely one of those dregs.” I kept talking, buying time. The more time we talked, the less time they spent shooting us. My gaze darted from the Tahni to the others and I noticed they were slowly but surely spreading out, penning us in. “I was born in the ruins of a city that hasn’t existed for a century. My parents were killed by the criminal gangs that controlled the place and I wandered across a desert for the privilege of living on the streets of the poorest sections of our largest city. I was too poor, too much of a reject to even join the gangs there, so I stole from them instead. I was arrested and given the choice of punishment or being a Drop Trooper.”
Zan-Thint attempted a smile again and this time, achieved the cruel satisfaction he was trying for.
“Typical. What I would have expected.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And by the end of the war, I was directly responsible for the deaths of over three hundred of your High Guard soldiers. That’s not even counting the dozens upon dozens of your Shock Troopers and regular infantry I killed without bothering to count them.”
The Tahni said nothing for a moment, staring at me with an undecipherable gaze, his eyes seeming to retreat further beneath his ridged brows.
“You,” he growled, “are a liar, human.”
“I dropped on Brigantia,” I told him. “I destroyed the deflector shields there personally.” His mouth opened, as if he were about to object, but I pressed on. “I was part of the initial infiltration team on Ambergris. I was with the platoon that destroyed the ambush force in the bunkers on Silvanus. Port Harcourt. Point Barber. Tahn-Skyyiah. I dropped on every one of them. I wiped out the last-ditch covering force you tried to secure the Imperial Palace with, and the only reason I wasn’t with the Force Recon Marines who killed your Emperor was that our suits wouldn’t fit in the tunnels.”
I realized, suddenly, that I’d made a tactical error. I’d been concentrating so hard on not letting the Tahni make me angry that I’d done the exact inverse. Zan-Thint’s left hand was crawling toward his gun as if it had a life of its own and was no longer being directed by his brain.
I shared a look with Vicky and her eyes darted toward the right, to the shuttle, and I got the message. If the shit went down, we’d take cover inside, as best we could. In truth, we’d probably wind up dead, all three of us, but a plan was a plan.
Light burst on us like a summer thunderstorm, showering from the sky, accompanied by the harsh, insistent buzzing of propellers. Maybe the reason we hadn’t heard the hoppers approaching was our little dick-measuring contest, or maybe they’d been flying nap-of-the-earth, but the landing lights announced their entrance only seconds before they landed. Four ducted-fan helicopters came in, only a few dozen meters separation between them, flying just over the stand of burning trees, close enough to send sparks raining down around us, and if none of the spacers pulled the trigger, it was only because they weren’t sure where to shoot.
The hoppers were unmarked, generic grey, but I knew who they were because I’d called them. Emergency Services had finally showed up.
The canopies popped open and men and women hopped out, some of them seeming confused by the armed strangers, but none panicking. Three or four reached back into the hoppers and pulled out hunting rifles, holding them at the low ready as if they were the Gauss service weapons the former Marines had trained with since Boot Camp.
The spacers began to exchange nervous glances, some looking to Captain Eld for guidance, others to Colonel Zan-Thint.
“Easy,” Eld said, his voice firm, but something in his eyes, perhaps disappointment, though it might have been relief. “Nobody do a Goddamned thing unless I say.”
“Hey Cam, Vicky, what the hell’s going on here?” The voice was measured and steady, not showing the slightest bit of fear, and I wasn’t surprised. Brad Torrey had been a captain in Force Recon in the war and was as close to unflappable as a man could be. He glanced over at Clines and the corner of his mouth turned down slightly. “Dave.”
“Brad,” Clines returned, managing to pack as much disrespect as possible in the word, as if reminding him that he didn’t have to call him sir anymore.
If Torrey minded, he didn’t show it. The man’s face was as bland and white-bread as it ever was, like a doctor or an AI-subroutine legal counsel, and those grey eyes didn’t even blink when he saw the Tahni.
“Grandy, Vingh,” he snapped. “Get a couple of extinguishers and put out those damned brushfires.”
The two Emergency Service Patrol volunteers didn’t question him, just slipped into the shoulder straps of the extinguishers, and began spraying fire-retardant foam over the burning trees and patches of grass. Smoke billowed up and the darkness closed in just a bit more on the edges of the clearing, though the lights of the extra hoppers kept the circle of friends and enemies illuminated.
“I didn’t think I’d see you out here,” I told Torrey. “I mean, it’s a good hour’s drive from your place just to the hopper landing field, much less town.”
“I happened to be staying in town with friends for the night,” he explained. “Negotiations with Browner’s Fab Shop for a new water pump ran long and I didn’t feel like driving five hours back well into the morning. Ned offered me a cot. Junie over there….” He nodded toward a woman beside the next hopper over, red hair, crazy eyes, and a big-assed rifle painting a picture of someone you didn’t want to screw with. “…came and ran over from the ESP staging area and told me about your call.”
“There’s been a crash, Brad,” I said, not because I didn’t think he was smart enough to figure that out on his own, but in an attempt to defuse the situation. “These ladies and gentlemen came to check the shuttle for survivors. I believe they were about to evacuate one of the wounded to Klaus Hellnick’s place for treatment.” I speared Eld with a glare. “Weren’t you, Captain?”
Eld nodded slowly, then motioned to the rest of his people. The muzzles of their guns lowered.
“Yes, I think we were.” He shot me a grin. “We’ll wait here until the trucks arrive to…clean up the mess.” The grin turned sardonic when he turned to Clines. “If that’s all right with you, Mr. Clines.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Clines said, finally showing some intelligence. “Take as long as you like.”
“You sure there’s nothing we can do to help?” Torrey asked, eyes still locked on the Tahni. “Maybe keep an eye on things to make sure there are no other accidents?”
“Naw,” I said. “I think the three of us are going to get in our rover and head back home, and we can all just stay out of trouble.” I waved to Vicky and Clines. “Let’s get out of these people’s hair, shall we?”
“It looks as if the fires are out here,” Torrey said. “Come on, everyone, let’s pack it in and get back to town before the people we left behind start to panic.” He smiled at Zan-Thint. “Wouldn’t want anyone to panic.”
I was already walking, praying silently to a God I hadn’t bothered much since the end of the war that He would get us out of the clearing without one of the dumbass smugglers or one of my dumbass neighbors taking a shot at someone. Vicky was beside me, while Clines was stepping backwards so he could watch the spacers. I half-hoped he’d trip and bust his ass just as a payback for totally failing to keep his mouth shut.