Night's Pawn (12 page)

Just before her left hand lashed out to yank the cable from the deck, her body stiffened and she began a long, sharp intake of breath. Chase jumped to his feet and was ready to move faster than he had in years to unplug her when she did it herself. Though jacked out, she continued to breathe hard as her body compensated for the loss of whatever flood of artificial sensory signals she'd been experiencing. Her eyes had closed as the plug was yanked, so she hadn't seen him. He carefully returned to the corner where he'd been waiting.

She sat still for a time as her body calmed. Finally, her eyes opened, she licked her lips, and reached for the deck. Her hand stopped just short of it as she caught a glimpse of Chase seated in the corner. Looking at him, the fear in her eyes was almost overwhelming.

"How long?" he asked.

She didn't answer, but instead pulled her hand back slowly from the deck.

His legs were pulled up in front of him, knees spread and his feet touching. His arms, hands clasped, rested gently on his knees. From where Cara sat she could see only his eyes past the hands. "How long?" he asked her again from the shadowy corner.

Cara blinked and looked quickly around the room so as not to look at him. She blinked again and her mouth opened as if to speak, but first she reached up and unplugged the cable from her head. Free, it fell to the ground and coiled up into its natural shape.

"How long what?" she said evenly.

"The chips."

She tilted her head. "What about them?"

"Don't play dumb."

Cara actually met his gaze this time. "I don't know what you're talking about." Her eyes had grown hard.

He shook his head and said nothing.

She reached out to pick up the deck as well as a soft red and gray case Chase hadn't noticed before. Cara slipped the deck into the case and put the gray chip into one of the outer pockets. He caught sight of a number of other chips also in the pocket, but all of those were marked with the bright, cheerful labels of commercial simchips. The cable went into its own pocket on the other side of the case. She pressed the cover down and set the case beside her.

"I'm a little surprised," he said.

"About what?"

"
Don't
, Cara, I may not exactly have clinical experience, but I know what I'm looking at."

Her eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head again. "I told you I don't know what you mean."

Chase shifted his position and let his hands unclasp. "All right," he said. "I'll say it. You're using BTL chips."

"What?"

"We've already had this exchange, remember? You know what I'm talking about."

She glanced over at the case holding the deck and then back at him. "You mean that?"

Chase watched her for some sign of the unease she'd displayed a minute ago. Pulled from somewhere, her poise had returned. He thought that was a bad sign. "Yes, the simdeck."

She surprised him and smiled. "Those aren't what you think."

"Oh?"

She shook her head. "No. Straight legal."

"Even the unmarked one that says 'buzz'?"

She blinked and confusion flashed across her face. "Oh! That's a British compilation chip, from the cable show. It slams you through lots of different things in sequence. It's really a top-wiz—"

"You've developed a twitch already, uncontrolled muscle spasm."

The fear began to slip back in. "I… what…"

Chase leaned forward slightly. "Your left arm. It twitches sometimes whe—"

A sudden, hard pounding on the thin construction plastic of the door cut him short. "
Church
!" came Becka Trinity's unusually loud voice from just beyond it. "It's show time!"

Chase looked back at Cara as she stood up, grabbing the simdeck case as she did. She was turned away from him. He stood, too, and walked toward the door.

Trinity was standing at the bottom of the stairs, grinning broadly beneath her cap. "Come on. You don't want to miss the works!"

"The works?"

"Fireworks, chummer. Somebody's running for the border, and the Azzies are out to scrag 'em before they do."

9

Cara slipped under Chase's arm before he realized it and bounced down next to Trinity. "Where?" Cara asked her.

The older woman eyed the girl a moment and then Chase. It suddenly occurred to him that Cara looked slightly disheveled and very sweaty. And he was sure that he looked only marginally better.

"They're still a bit off, but Katie's picked up some traffic on the Azzie security channels. She thinks it's a T-bird running north for the border."

"The
Rapier?"
asked Chase.

Trinity shrugged. "No tellin'. Have to wait and see."

Cara shielded her eyes from the sun. "How long till something happens?"

The old woman shrugged again. "An hour, a few minutes. T-birds are fast, honey."

Chase stepped down and closed the door behind him. "So, where are the best seats?"

Trinity smiled again. "Why, right out there," she said, pointing to a small bluff a few kilometers distant. "Grimm's Flat. Some of the camp are already out there."

They rode out in Mickey Dare's pickup truck, a dozen or so of them crammed into the bed. Chase sat next to Cara, pressed up against her side. She spoke to everyone but him.

As Trinity had said, some people were already up there when the truck reached the top of the bluff. The group was stretched out and comfortable in plastic furniture of a type normally found near a lot more water. A small van also sat on top of Grimm's Flat, but it was parked in a slight depression, manmade to Chase's eye, and covered in the same desert camouflage netting as the buildings in Dart Slot. The netting had been lifted up to clear a piece of equipment about the size of a lawnmower and the large, flat black panel that sat atop it, perpendicular and facing the south. Chase was surprised: he'd expected to see a lot of military surplus around Dart Slot, but a fairly new, portable phased-array radar was surprising.

A short, balding man in a bright red shirt slipped out from under the netting. As he straightened up, he adjusted a headset microphone he was wearing. As he blew once into it, the sound came amplified from a speaker hidden beneath the netting. He seemed satisfied.

"Good afternoon, folks. I'm gonna do the play-byplay this time 'cause Wanda's off in DFW. I'll try and do my best."

Some of the Dart Slot regulars nodded, while an even smaller number clapped in approval once or twice. Chase wasn't sure if it was for the speaker or Wanda's trip to Dallas-Fort Worth.

"What we have," he continued, "seems fairly standard. Katie picked up some Azzie air units entering the border buffer zone about twenty minutes ago. She tags them as Aguilar attack helicopters, and they've been loitering since they reached the area. She thinks there are some ground units playing hound for them, but hasn't seen or heard a sign of them."

Chase watched the crowd as the man spoke. They seemed to be listening, at least halfway, though most were watching south toward the border. Chase wasn't sure where it was, but was certain they knew down to the meter. Trinity handed him a beer she'd gotten from somewhere. He thanked her and looked around for Cara, who was standing a few steps away also looking south. She was still wearing only the shorts and tank top.

"You should lotion up or throw on something light. This sun'll cook you," he said.

"I tan. I don't burn." She did not look at him.

"Then tan you will."

"Okay, folks, here we go," said the announcer. "Katie says the beta-line sensor net just went active. The two choppers have dropped low and she's lost them in the ground clutter. No sign of who they're after."

Chase turned toward Trinity. "This happen every time?"

The Indian woman shook her head. "No. Happens more these days 'cause of the civil war stuff, but usually the T-birds slip across real quiet."

Chase nodded. "Why during the day?"

She grinned. "Why not? The tech we got and they got's so good, day or night don't mean a damn thing. During the day, though, the T-bird pilots can use the ground heat to mask their own signature somewhat."

Chase looked over at the speaker, who'd suddenly glanced up and was straining his eyes toward the border. "Missile fire!" he said. "Chopper did a pop-up and took a shot. Target's down in the dirt. No telling—"

Chase caught a barely perceptible flash just at the horizon. People began to stand.

"Choppers are maneuvering. Katie reads three in the air, and has got definite ground traffic." The announcer was obviously hearing more over his headset than he was relating. Chase wondered if it was coming too fast for him to relate or whether it was too technical. The man's eyes searched the horizon. "More air-to-ground fire, rocket pod profile."

One by one, people began to pull optical and electronic binoculars out of bags and pockets. They all watched the horizon.

"Sustained air-to-ground and ground-to-ground fire. The Azzies seem to be tracking whoever it is…"

Chase moved closer to Trinity and spoke so that only she could hear. "How many don't make it?"

"Too many."

"Okay, return fire, pretty heavy, tracks like a rotary cannon…"

"Could be the
Rapier
," said Trinity.

"Drone launch! At least one drone's in the air…"

"Christ almighty, Mike!" came a woman's shout from somewhere to Chase's left. "Whose?"

"Katie says they seem to be tracking the same target as the Azzies…"

Chase heard the low cursing and the loud grumbling pass through the crowd. Cara looked at him questioningly. "The Azzies are probably using the drones, not only for additional firepower," he told her, "but to confuse whoever they're after. Too many targets." He looked over at Trinity for confirmation and the old woman nodded. Cara looked back toward the horizon as a series of bright, slightly red flashes reached them.

"More rockets… Katie thinks the T-bird caught some air and the Azzies let go at it. She thinks it's still runnin', though."

"Can't see drek," said a kid forward of the group as he scanned the horizon with his binoculars.

"Katie thinks the T-bird's down in the west riverbed, but two of the choppers are moving to cut it off. The third's still hounding it… So fraggin' close…"

"You've obviously got the information. Do you ever send any telemetry to the T-birds?" Chase asked Trinity.

"We used to, but about a year ago the Azzies lobbed a radar-seeking missile at us. Fraggin' thing missed, thank God, but we've stopped sending data. Too big a risk."

Everyone on the bluff ducked reflexively as twin streaks of reflected sun shot over them by a hundred meters or so. The two jets were halfway to the flashes of light by the time their noise reached the bluff. Chase winced and could barely hear the shouts over the sudden noise.

"Texas! Texas!" came a few yells.

"Drek-for-brains a-holes!" came at least one other.

"Ah, two flyers, low and fast. All lit up, says Katie. Locking and tracking."

"Phantom Fours!" yelled the kid with the binoculars.

Trinity leaned in close to Chase. The noise itself had dropped significantly, but they were all still half-deaf. "Texas Air National Guard jets out of Abilene. They don't like it when the Azzies play in the buffer zone. They don't always get here in time, but we call them as soon as anything starts to show."

Chase grinned. "Anonymously, I would guess."

"Frag, no. They ain't too happy 'bout us being around, but we keep a good eye on the border and keep the Azzies jumping."

"Uh-oh, the choppers are running. Guess somebody let them know they were less than a klick from the border. Wonder who told them?"

The crowd chuckled and Chase could feel some of the tension draining out of them. He could barely see the two jets himself as they now flew parallel to where he guessed the border to be. There was another flash of reflected light a distance past the jets, but he couldn't make out what it was.

"Yepper, ladies and gentlemen, Katie reports that the Azzie units are in fact moving away from the bord—" He stopped to watch the horizon and grinned. "Green and clear, chummers. Katie says she has a T-bird grab-bin' air in home turf. ETA six minutes."

There was scattered applause and a couple of whoops at the news. The announcer removed his headset and had turned away when the jets shot overhead again. Chase had been watching them and was ready when they passed, again barely a hundred meters over the bluff, but this time gently wagging their wings. The two fighters cleared, the bluff and gained altitude as they sped north.

Trinity tugged on Chase's arm and pointed down below them. "Here she comes," she said, "and I'll bet yer hat she's the
Rapier
." Chase grinned. "And how do you know that?"

"Hell, how do ya think? Ain't nobody else due in."

10

The
Rapier's Touch
reached Dart Slot a short time before Mickey Dare's pickup, so the low-altitude vehicle was already grounded and powered-down by the time Chase and Cara got back. Its three-man crew was out on the black, radar-absorbing hull inspecting the combat damage as the pickup rolled up. Among them was a tall, powerfully built black man with long braided hair, dressed in beat-up jeans and a brown leather vest. He stood up, pointing an accusing finger at Chase.