Competing with the Colonel
P
rojectile
rounds
crashed
the
forward
airshield
and
the
ground
hover
automatically
raised
emergency
shielding,
but
not before another volley slammed the vehicle.
The
engines
failed
and
the
hover
tipped,
slamming
into
the
pavement
two
lanes
below,
nearly
flipping.
The
two
agents
flew
against
their
restraints.
Ricocheting
fragments
filled
the
cabin.
Jay
felt
impacts
across
his
upper
body
as
he
slid
down
to protect his head, grabbing for his helmet.
Tess
stared
stubbornly
at
their
monitor.
Blood
ran
down
her
left
cheek
from
a
particularly
nasty
looking
puncture
wound.
“Get down, you idiot!” Jay hissed at her. “Get your helmet on!”
The
computer
had
identified
where
the
fire
came
from,
but
the
view
from
the
locally-networked
feed
showed
no
perp,
just
a
fenced,
elevated
playground
with
a
hundred kids screaming, running for the exits.
“Freaking coward,” Tess slurred.
“Yeah.
You
ever
arrested
a
scumbag
who
wasn’t?”
he
asked.
“That
must
hurt.
We
gotta get you to a doctor.”
“After we collar this bastard.”
“Are
you
kidding?
Look
around,
Tess.
This
isn’t
exactly
a
barren
desert.
There’re
a
dozen buildings he could have slipped into within fifteen seconds of blasting us.”
“Yeah.”
Tess’
smile
looked
odd,
considering
the
blood
soaking
the
front
of
her
royal-blue,
EUSA
armored
vest.
“But
now
he’s
broken
a
law
on
this
planet
and
we’ll
have the local constable support. They should be here any second.”
“Bull
puckies,”
Jay
said.
“They
can
hunt
for
him
their
own-selves
for
an
hour.
Look
in the mirror. Hope you don’t have any photo shoots the next couple of weeks.”
“You don’t look so pretty yourself,” she said. “Oh wait, you never did.”
“Prettier than you.”
“Nuh uh,” Tess said distractedly, still studying the scanner.
“Yeah huh.”
“I hate getting ambushed,” she whined.
“Yeah huh,” he said.
“You can get up now,” Tess said. “The shooting is over.”
Jay
pushed
himself
up
the
seat
and
peered
over
the
con,
looking
for
a
threat,
not
interested in the computer’s opinion that the shooter was gone.
All
he
saw
was
bystanders
gaping
at
them
from
the
steps
of
the
nearest
building.
He opened his door, got out, and walked to the trunk to retrieve the med-kit.
The
trunk
wouldn’t
open.
Figgered.
It
had
several
gashes
that
pressed
the
body
tight
against
the
lid.
He
cursed,
stood
back
and
kicked
it.
The
thing
swung
open.
Clearly
anger and rhetoric was an operational design feature.
Tess
joined
him
as
a
constable
hover
pulled
up
behind
them.
The
two
partners
ran
to them. One held another med-kit.
Cops, or paramedics?
“Four
trashed
hovers
in
two
days,”
Jay
mumbled
at
Tess.
“That’s
gotta
be
a
record
for this team.”
They
both
ignored
the
questions
raining
from
the
constables.
One
gently
pushed
Tess
back
against
the
vehicle
and
pressed
a
wad
of
gauze
against
her
ugly
cheek.
She
shrieked in pain.
“Yeah, but the colonel got her guy,” she said.
Jay
laughed.
“I
would’ve
loved
to
been
there.
Toni
off
her
comfortable
bridge,
on
Talaith Glain no less. What a cesspool.”
“All
these
gashes,”
the
medic-constable
interrupted,
“lucky
neither
of
you
lost
an
eye.”
“Or a brain,” the other working on Jay’s lacerations,” added.
“Yeah. Real lucky.” Tess snorted. “The bastard was waiting for us, Jay.”
“Ya think?”
“Ow! Take it easy.” She slapped at the constable’s hand.
“I’m
gonna
kick
Rutger’s
ass,”
Jay
mumbled.
Good
for
nothing
CI.
He
pried
a
projectile out of his armor with his eight-inch serrated knife.
The constable cleaning his wounds grumbled about him being still.
“You’re
gonna
have
to
stand
in
line,”
Tess
said.
“As
a
confidential
informant,
this
guy—”
Chatter
over
the
constables’
com
interrupted
her.
A
suspect
had
been
spotted
driving away on the next block. The four of them ran for the constables’ car.
“I’m driving,” Jay shouted at the officer headed for the driver-side.
“Hell ya’r,” he replied.
“You
see
this
badge?”
he
shouted
slapping
his
chest.
“It
trumps
the
one
you’re
wearing by a factor of ten.”
The
two
constables
glared
angrily
at
the
two
union
agents,
but
stepped
aside,
hurrying to get into the rear seat before Jay pulled away.
“Sirens on!” Jay commanded.
“Uh, you have to flip a switch on these,” a constable said from the back seat.
Jay
glanced
at
the
man
in
the
rearview
mirror
and
Tess
turned
to
glare.
The
constable
timidly
instructed
Tess
how
to
flip
on
the
device,
as
Jay
maneuvered
the
hover into the upper lane set aside for emergency vehicles.
The
hover
at
least
had
a
proper
tracking
monitor.
He
followed
the
directions
on
the
screen
around
several
corners.
In
all
the
traffic
it
would
be
a
miracle
if
they
caught
sight
of their perp.
Wasn’t like he’d have a flashing sign on his hood.
Jay
had
to
chuckle
a
second
later
though,
as
the
driver
of
a
car
ahead
of
them
panicked at the sight of the constables’ car.
“It couldn’t be that easy, could it?” Jay asked.
“They’re criminals for a freaking reason,” Tess mumbled.
Her
excitement
had
her
squirming
on
the
bench
seat.
She
slid
against
the
door
as
Jay
hung
a
hard
corner,
and
she
hurried
to
pull
her
restraint
across
her
chest.
She
pulled the assault rifle out of the rack between them.
“This thing DNA registered?” she screeched back at the constables.
“Yes.”
She
cursed.
Be
nothing
more
than
a
club
in
her
hands.
She
handed
it
back
to
the
one
who
would
have
normally
been
in
the
front
passenger
seat.
The
woman
took
it
as
though it wasn’t a familiar tool.
The
slime
job
they
were
after
had
already
clobbered
half-a-dozen
hovers
trying
to
get
away.
He
was
going
to
claim
more
victims
if
Jay
didn’t
get
that
hover
disabled
quickly.
As
he
formed
that
thought,
the
bastard
got
boxed
in
traffic,
slammed
the
vehicles
in
front
of
him,
but
they
just
came
to
a
stop
instead
of
making
way.
Jay
was
on
him
in
three seconds and crashed the constables’ hover on top of the one ole’ Slimy drove.
“Gotcha, you raping bastard!”
But
Slimy
had
already
crawled
out
his
window
and
was
sprinting
up
the
street.
The
two agents leapt the three meters to the ground, rolled hard, and were after him.
Slimy
turned
and
fired
a
couple
shots
to
give
them
something
to
think
about.
But
Jay
and
Tess
had
reason
that
day
to
take
more
risk
than
usual.
The
previous
day,
their
tiny-assed little commander had taken huge risks at cornering a criminal.
They were the experienced street agents. They couldn’t let her show them up.
They
ran
straight
up
the
sidewalk
like
idiots.
Civilians
thankfully
scattered
for
a
change, instead of gaping at the brouhaha like sheep.
Slimy
stopped,
turned,
steadied
his
sidearm.
Jay
felt
the
projectile
strike
center-
mass
into
his
armor.
The
force
flung
him
backward
and
spun
him.
He
ended
pulling
a
double gainer into the concrete.
Before
he
stopped
rolling
he
was
shouting
at
the
top
of
his
lungs,
“I’m
good,”
to
ensure
Tess
didn’t
stop
to
have
tea
with
him.
He
ended
his
roll
with
a
slide
into
first
base, face first. Heat streaked across his chin.
That would need plas-skin.
Both
palms
already
bled
as
he
juggled
to
pick
up
his
sidearm.
That
was
going
to
make
it
slick.
He
tried
to
push
the
pain
aside,
but
his
chest
didn’t
want
to
draw
in
air.
He
at
least
had
a
broken
rib.
The
jerk
was
using
illegal
ammo,
of
course.
The
guy
had
to
die before he killed a bunch of citizens.
The
pops
of
more
shooting
helped
him
refocus.
He
stole
just
a
split-second
to
check down the street. Where were the constables? Nowhere useful.
Scrambling
up
he
looked
for
Slimy
and
Tess.
The
man
was
out
of
sight,
but
his
partner approached a side street, waiting for him just like he would have waited for her.
They were both so good at following protocol.
As she veered right, she took at least one round and went down hard.
Jay screamed, willing his body to move faster.
He
wanted
to
check
on
Tess,
but
he
forced
his
eyes
up
the
street
first.
Slimy
turned
left
up
another
street.
Jay
knelt
by
Tess
as
she
spewed,
a
sign
she’d
taken
one
in
the
gut.
The
vest
saved
her
life,
but
there
was
nothing
more
wrenching,
besides
a
tag
in
the
extremities.
One in the face wouldn’t feel too hot either.
The
blood
she
spilled
over
her
vest
earlier
made
it
difficult
to
see
if
she
had
any
new
wounds,
plus
the
ding
in
her
cheek
had
started
bleeding
again
from
her
exertion.
She spit as soon as she stopped gagging.
“A’right!” she hissed, waving him on. “Go!”
Jay
rose
and
slogged
after
Slimy.
There
wasn’t
a
lot
of
swift
in
his
giddy
up
at
that
point.
Where
in
the
hell
were
the
constables
of
that
fair
world?
Plenty
of
sirens
rang
in
the distance, but they sure weren’t converging on them very quickly.
He
hobbled
to
the
corner
the
jerk
turned
down.
Startled
faces
recognized
his
blue
vest and pointed to the entrance of the near building.
Great.
An
urban
battle
wasn’t
bad
enough.
Now
he’d
have
to
wander
around
in
a
moo-maze where the bastard could hide behind a hundred hostages.
Toni wasn’t gonna beat him on collars though.
Struggling
to
catch
his
breath,
he
peeked
through
the
glass
of
the
entry.
There
were
more ogling civilians inside, who pointed at the stairwell.
Hopefully they were more reliable than Rutger. The weaselballs.
Jay
jogged
through
the
automatic
door,
leaned
against
the
wall.
Reaching
across
his
body
he
pulled
the
stairwell
door
open
a
crack
and
listened,
waiting
for
an
explosion. What he heard was running footsteps, several flights up.
Hell.
Just
thinking
of
stairs
hurt
his
chest.
No
way.
He
stepped
inside
the
stairwell
and
estimated
how
many
floors
up
the
bastard
was.
Three,
four,
five,
he
counted.
A
door banged.
Jay
walked
back
to
the
foyer
elevator
and
pressed
the
up
button.
Civies
gaped
at
him.
He
tried
to
act
as
though
it
was
totally
natural
for
him
to
stand
there
bleeding
over
the
pretty
white
tile,
holding
a
cannon
at
his
side,
casually
going
after
a
suspect
via
elevator.
The
door
opened
and
startled
riders
rushed
off,
sliding
against
the
far
edge
of
the
entrance
to
keep
away
from
his
cooties.
Maybe
they
didn’t
want
any
of
his
blood
on
their tidy clothes.
Inside,
he
waved
away
those
who
waited
for
a
lift
with
him.
No
one
appeared
too
disappointed about missing that particular ride.
Jay got off on the fifth floor and listened.
Now what?
There
were
no
convenient
bystanders
to
point
him
in
the
right
direction.
Left
or
right?
Fifty-fifty
chance.
He
slowly
walked
left,
reminding
himself
that
criminals
are
idiots. That’s why they’re criminals.
What would an idiot do?
A door cracked open two offices up, and a nervous eye peered out.
Like, give himself away.
Jay
aimed
as
the
door
slammed
shut.
He
would
have
loved
to
ignore
protocol
and
blasted
the
bastard
away,
right
through
the
stinking
door.
But
Internal
Affairs
called
that
indiscriminate
fire.
He
had
to
triple
the
risk
and
get
the
guy
in
perfect
sight
with
no bystanders in harm’s way.
“
Remind yourself, Jay, how much you love your job.”
He stared at the door. Now what? Knock and ask the jerk to come out and play?
Gwael Exports was stenciled across the door.
“Spose
they
can
export
that
bastard
right
out
here
into
the
hall?”
He
sighed,
and
shouted, “I’m not going anywhere. You aren’t either, except in manacles or a body bag.”
He
didn’t
know
why,
but
the
taunt
came
out
in
a
singsong
lilt,
like
a
pre-pubescent
dare.
Slimy let go with a single shot through the center of Gwael.
“Like that is going to make me think, ew, I better go home. He’s dangerous.
“That was totally unnecessary,” Jay shouted.
Doors
opened
up
and
down
the
corridor.
Jay
patiently
waved
all
the
sheep
for
the
stairs
at
the
end
of
each
hall.
He
rolled
his
eyes
as
many
strolled,
more
interested
in
gaping at the sideshow.
“Get out of the freaking building!” he shouted. Which did little to hurry them.
But
after
a
half-eon
the
building
quieted
and
Jay
decided
to
go
for
broke.
He
tiptoed
to
the
door
and
lay
down,
reached
up
and
waved
his
hand
over
the
bio-sensor.
As
the
door
swung
inward,
a
flurry
of
projectiles
splintered
the
door,
opening
three-
centimeter holes in the corridor’s facing wall.
The
convenient
little
click
indicated
the
bolt
of
Slimy’s
weapon
locked
open,
out
of
ammunition.
Jay
rolled
into
the
door
opening
and
braced
his
shooting
hand.
Slimy
stood,
eyes
popping,
probably
realizing
he
was
short
of
options.
He
held
a
young
woman
in
front
of
him. Jay leveled his sights to the left of her right leg and fired.
Slimy’s
shin
sheered
in
a
bloody
explosion.
The
woman
shrieked
maniacally,
but
she maintained enough state of mind to flee, leaping right over Jay.
He
had
to
laugh,
as
the
one-legged
scumbag
tumbled
forward
in
slow
motion
after
his escaping shield.
Oh, to have a picture of that. Priceless.
Jay
stood
and
stepped
into
the
office,
kicked
the
dude’s
cannon
away
from
him.
That
was
protocol.
Not
that
it
was
gonna
sprout
a
fresh
magazine.
A
couple
other
civilians
who
had
huddled
in
the
corner
rushed
past.
One
looked
down
at
the
nearly
severed leg and spewed, but didn’t slow down.
Ick.
“Slimy.
You
have
the
right
to
continue
screaming.
Anything
you
scream
can
and
will
be
used
against
you
in
a
speedy
tribunal
where
you
will
be
found
guilty
for
a
bunch
of shit and imprisoned for the rest of your worthless life, if you don’t bleed out first.
“You
have
the
right
to
have
an
attorney
listen
to
your
screaming
while
we
deal
with
your despicable self.
“If
you
can’t
afford
an
attorney,
we’ll
drag
some
sorry
bastard
out
of
hiding
to
ensure your fragile rights aren’t trampled.
“Do you understand these rights, Slimy?”
“Call me an ambulance,” the man pleaded.
“By
your
unresponsive
reply,
I
take
it
you
don’t
understand,
so
I’ll
slowly
repeat
your
rights.
I
can
explain
them
in
excruciating
detail
if
you
have
any
specific
questions.”
“I’m dying.”
“Feel
free
to
interrupt
me
at
any
time.
I
understand
them
very
well,
personally,
and
I’m sure I can help you get there.”
We got our man too, Colonel. Jay smiled.
“You have the right, by that I mean you are entitled to claim—”
© R. Mac Wheeler 2017