Warehouse District, Geneva

Terra, Prefecture X

20 December 3134

“Squad, by sections, overwatch advance!”

In response to their squad leader’s orders, Heather GioAvanti’s borrowed militia troopers moved into action. Those on the right and the left advanced, while the ones facing the center of the building remained still, their eyes surveying the facade for movement or any sign of resistance. They saw nothing, and heard no sounds other than the normal ones of a city waking up. With a rush of booted feet over ancient streets, the flankers reached the walls and stood still, eyes scanning, weapons high.

Then it was the center’s turn to advance, rushing, waiting for the sound of gunfire. Nothing. They reached the doors.

“Screw subtle,” said the squad leader. “Breaching charges.”

The charges were set, then detonated. The large doors came off their hinges, falling inward. The men at the center dashed inside, rushing into eerie quiet, followed by the flankers from the front corners.

Through it all, Heather GioAvanti watched over the action from the cockpit of her Spider, ready to provide supporting fire if needed. So far, it hadn’t been. For a panicky moment she wondered if perhaps they’d hit the wrong warehouse. She rechecked the coordinates—no, this was the one.

Then Koss in the Shandra and Santangelo in the Fox reported all secure in the rear of the building. A signal from inside the warehouse, from the militia corporal leading section two: “Ma’am. We have a large amount of military materiel here. Pistols, rifles, charge canisters, gas masks and”—he dropped synch, came back a moment later—“missiles. In launch racks. Instructions?”

“Destroy it all,” Heather said. “Render it inoperable. Speed is important. Make it good.”

She keyed off the circuit. A moment later, the squad reappeared, trotting out from between the blast-broken doors of the warehouse.

“Fire in the hole!” the corporal shouted.

A cloud of dust rolled out of the warehouse doors; up above, a skylight blew out in a rainbow of glass fragments. The shockwave vibrated through the limbs of Heather’s Spider, and the glass in the windows of the building behind her shattered and fell to the street.

“Right,” Heather said. “Next on the list.” She read them the coordinates. “Mount up and move out, people.”

“Next one may not be so easy,” Santangelo commented over the command circuit. “That one wasn’t guarded and we had surprise on our side. Next one, if they aren’t awake by now, they’re dead.”

“We’ll take them. Hopefully without trashing large sections of the city.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Santangelo replied. “But I can’t give any guarantees about the KR.”

“How long until contact?” she asked.

“Under three.”

“Hit it. Same plan.”

The Fox and the Shandra peeled out ahead of Heather’s skittering ’Mech, the bike-mounted troopers of the militia infantry squad following at speed.

“They did what?” Cullen Roi stared at the foot messenger. The man had found him at his Spartan west-side apartment, finishing the last of a hasty breakfast before going to the temporary command center he had established specifically for the day’s activities.

“Destroyed our supply cache at the Grundewald warehouse,” repeated the messenger breathlessly. “And they’re—”

A second foot messenger hurried in.

“Reported attack on our warehouse at Lundquist Street. Several vehicles, at least one ’Mech. Commander Hansel believes that it’s Paladin GioAvanti’s people.”

“What are the police and the militia doing about this?” Cullen demanded. He didn’t get an answer; he didn’t expect one. Not from these two. He put down his coffee and said, “I’ll be at the command center. Bring any other messages there. Here are your orders: To all cache commanders. Empty your warehouses. Distribute your arms and armor as best you can. If attacked, resist.”

The two messengers saluted awkwardly. Part of the problem with running the paramilitary wing of a political movement, Cullen had found, was that the volunteers one got were often more “para” than military as far as their background and training were concerned. But one had to work with the materials at hand. He put the problem out of his mind for the moment and headed for Kittery Renaissance’s command center—in normal life, the back room at the data shop where Norah’s current lover had his day job—as quickly as a man could go without attracting unwanted attention.

Hansel and Norah were already busy when he arrived. The shop’s owner was a sympathizer with the cause; he’d never asked Norah exactly what her “political group” intended to do that required the use of his back room and its data facilities. He was also a prudent man, who had departed yesterday on a visit to his daughter in Nova Scotia without making any awkward inquiries into what might be going on at the shop during his absence.

“Commander,” said Hansel as Cullen entered. “We are under attack.”

“I know,” said Cullen. “What I want to know is who and where.”

“Who is Heather GioAvanti, and where is here.” Hansel pointed to a map of the city. All of the supply caches for the coming street battles were circled in red. Two of the sites had black X’s drawn on them in grease pencil.

“That was the first one, at 0608. Then they hit this one at 0622.”

“That would put her about”—Cullen traced his finger over the map, drawing a line from the second of the destroyed warehouses to its nearest untouched neighbor—“here. Nothing we can do for the next bunch but warn them. You have warned them?”

“I have,” Norah said. “At least so far, the police are staying well clear. We’ve been monitoring their frequencies, and they’ve been keeping themselves busy with the protestors down at the Hall of Government. It looks like they’ve been told to back off and let the Paladin handle it.”

“Too bad it isn’t the right Paladin,” said Hansel. “We should have sent the council a memo.”

“Not funny,” Norah snapped.

“Calm down,” Cullen said. “These things happen. If GioAvanti fails, the demand for someone of greater experience will be that much louder.”

He tapped the red circle on the map that marked the location of the next targeted warehouse. “Write that one off. We’ll have lost three supply caches. Not good, but we can live with it.”

Picking up the grease pencil, he circled the fourth warehouse in the line. “This is where we’ll fight it out. Everyone else, get the supplies out to the cadres. The timetable just got advanced by a few hours.”

He looked at the map again and rethought his strategy. “Hmm. With a hasty defense of that fourth site, we may well lose it as well. Change of plans—how do you feel about an ambush, say, here?”

He indicated a spot halfway between the fourth location and the fifth.

“I feel strongly positive about it, sir,” Hansel said.

“I was hoping you would,” Cullen told him. “You’re going to lead it. Take what you need, and get going. If this plan is going to work, you have to defeat GioAvanti.”