Mike Shepherd - Mutineer

Table of Contents

In a game simulation, Kris would have popped the Game Over button about now and gone out for pizza. In the real world, it's not over until it's over, and this one was far from over.

The girl, so fragile and light in Kris's arms, mumbled, ''Edith,'' when asked her name. Right, that had been somewhere in Kris's briefing, but it was too close to Eddy for Kris to dare remember it. From the way Edith clung to Kris, you'd think they shared a heart. At the moment, Kris wouldn't deny that. The private threw the upstairs gunman over his shoulder. Corporal Li and Hanson kept close to Kris and Edith as they worked their way downstairs. No one wanted to lose the girl to some surprise now. The private plopped his sleeper down in the living room next to two others. All showed blood where darts had hit them; two bled freely. One shivered in apparent shock. Two awake prisoners huddled on the couch, hands taped behind them. A pool of blood in front of them showed where one body had been taken out back.

''Who's in charge?'' Kris demanded.

The two conscious ones glanced around as if just noticing the room. ''Martin,'' one muttered. The other pointed at the shivering sleeper. Gunny retrieved a wallet from that one and opened it. Martin had an Earth driver's license and social ID. Earth! What was an Earth crook doing out here? This situation was way past strange.

But Kris had pressing housekeeping problems. ''Folks,'' she told her prisoners, ''there're land mines out there. I want them turned off. Who has the key?'' They just stared blankly at Kris.

''Get me their IDs. I want to know who we've got. Specialist, can you wake up our sleeping beauties?''

Hanson stepped over to the supine forms, gave each a shot, then started rocking the first one with his foot, a rifle in his face. ''Wake up, dude. You're in a world of hurt.'' Hanson smiled down cheerfully. His subject came awake with a cough, opened his eyes, took in the gun muzzle, and did his damndest to roll away. That only put him hard up against the next terrorist's back. The tech got down and in his face. ''Who controls those mines?''

''Martin. He has the codes,'' he answered, eager to please.

Efforts to wake Martin only sent the heavyset man from drugged sleep into out cold. ''This one's got a bad heart,'' Hanson reported. ''He needs a hospital, or we'll lose him.''

Gunny stooped to go face-to-face with one of the recently awakened sleepers. ''Where does Martin have his codes?''

''In his puter. I swear they are.''

The tech patted down Martin and pulled a banged-up and aging wrist computer off him, liberally covered with blood. The tech tried to wipe it clean on his battle suit, but armor was meant to keep blood in, not wipe it away. He ended up wiping it on the couch before trying to turn it on. No activity there.

''He was fingering it when I darted him,'' Gunny growled.

''I think he wiped it,'' Hanson concluded. Kris had learned long ago that nothing in storage was ever quite gone, not if the right people went after it with patience. She took the computer and slid it into her pouch as she studied the field through the gaping door. Four of her marines were on the other side of a too-live minefield. Kris would risk no one now that Edith was safe. In theory, her techs could clear the field, but mines had no friends, and Kris was not about to see one of her crew hurt, even if a mom and dad were airborne, headed this way.

''This is Ensign Longknife. I have no way of turning off the land mines. Anyone on net have any assets for clearing mines?'' Several police nets gave her a negative. As Kris mulled her unacceptable options, her net boomed.

''This is Captain Thorpe of the Typhoon. We're inbound, thirty seconds out from the hunting lodge. We'll take care of that minefield. I suggest everyone dirtside get under cover.''

The troops around Kris exchanged puzzled glances.

Hanson shook his head. ''The captain ain't gonna do that. Please, somebody tell me he ain't gone and done that. My gear's gonna be all over the place.''

''He's thirty seconds out. I think he's already done it.''

Kris shook her head. ''He wouldn't. Not with me dirtside.''

''I think he has, ma' am,'' Corporal Li chuckled.

''Let's do what the skipper said,'' Gunny growled. ''It's gonna get noisy and messy hereabouts in a few seconds.''

While her troops got their prisoners headed for the back room, Kris made a quick call to her fire team and ordered them backway back. Then she eyed the brightening sky through the front window, eager to see what was coming. The manual said the smart metal of the Kamikaze-class ships could restructure themselves in several different ways. She herself had changed the Typhoon from general travel to orbital mission, but that was done all the time. To change a starship into an air-capable vehiclenow, that would take some rearranging.

The clear blue sky let go with a high-pitched scream.

Kris spotted a white contrail off to the southwest, headed her way in the morning light. She wondered how you made a house safe when a starship landed next to it; not an evolution covered by any book she'd read at OCS. ''Gunny, pop the windows out, break the glass before it shatters.''

''Right, ma'am.''

While her team went rapidly through the house, Kris scrounged several blankets and wrapped Edith in them. ''There's going to be a big noise. Don't worry. I've got you. Nothing can hurt you now.'' The child looked up at Kris with wide, accepting eyes; then, if it was possible, she snuggled closer.

Kris stationed herself next to a window to keep an eye on things both inside and out. The roar outside went from loud to painful; Kris lowered her faceplate. Looking like a winged bird from hell, the Typhoon was aiming for the field in front of the lodge, coming in at about 400 knots. Half its engines were pointed down now. The overpressure out there was going to be nothing short of hellish. Kris held Edith tightly against the wall, assuming that her cowboy of a captain had calculated the full impact of the ship and mines on the house. What if he hadn't? Kris had a vision of the cabin's giant logs reduced to kindling and prayed the skipper knew what he was doing.

''See, didn't I tell you?'' One of her marines pointed. ''Don't it look like a Klingon Bird-of-Prey? Right out of the comic.''

The Typhoon wasn't a hundred meters up when the first mine blew. Its explosion would have gone unnoticed in the racket, but Kris spotted the splash of water and mud that didn't fit the regular air flow from the Typhoon's engine blast. Then another and another mine added its pop to the display. Water, mud, bits of vegetation, and rocks went flying every which way, none even close to the Typhoon. Kris had seen enough. ''Everybody down.''

Reluctantly, her troops obeyed. With her back to the log wall, all Kris could think of was the mess the heat was making of the tundra. Summer had softened the top dozen centimeters or so. Now, hot rocket exhaust was digging two or three meters into the frozen earth, melting everything, turning it into a slurry and throwing it far and wide.

Kris hoped whoever owned this place wouldn't mind. If someone got stuck doing an after-the-fact environmental impact statement and mitigation plan, Kris knew who was high on Captain Thorpe's list for the duty.

Outside, the scream of rockets changed to a settling whine; Kris risked a glance. The ground steamed and roiled in a broad slash as the Typhoon settled onto a dozen thick landing gears well away from the last mine. Police choppers would be wanting to land next. Kris turned to her team. ''Gunny, have the techs police up the area. If there are any mines left, explode them. Start with the veranda.'' The two specialists had their satchel of techno tricks out, checking the door before they opened it.