Obsidian's War The Winter City

Gel stood as Even came to the table and slipped off her light coat to reveal the sparkling, low cut green outfit in which she had been singing that evening.

“Love the outfit,” said Yvonne.

“It’s sensational,” said Gel, taking the coat. “Even, this is Yvonne, the woman I said who wanted to know stuff.”

“I was intrigued,” said Even, sitting down, “and worried maybe, but I’m told this restaurant has style, so I decided to check it out.”

“No need to worry, no-one but my bosses are ever going to know we talked and I’m not with the police,” said Yvonne.

“Not police? Then who are you with?”

“A party which is also concerned with peace and order.”

“Yeah?” Even looked quizzically at Yvonne. “Does the big boss of this party have a portrait of an eye on his wall?”

Yvonne said nothing.

“Told you she was smart,” said Gel.

Even’s eyes widened. “You mean you’re for real Imperial…”

“Ssssh!” said Gel putting his hand on her bare forearm.

Even smiled and glanced down at Gel’s hand on her arm. He withdrew it.

“I never discuss my employers,” said Yvonne, “you’re here because you owe a favour to Gel...” Even nodded, “...who has a mutual interest in the people behind a certain establishment. You told him you thought the group ‘weird’, and I just wanted to explore that. Your thoughts will be recorded but not shared with any other party. However, first supper. You’ve been singing at that club, Night Beats. I haven’t been there. Are you soul, blues, pop...?”

“Classics of all kinds, but not the fast pop stuff” said Even. “I’m told I do a good ‘Smooth Operator’ which is 80s Earth, or ‘Someday My Prince Will Come’. Popular, corny stuff maybe, but it pays the bills.”

“I like both those songs,” said Yvonne. “I’m into retro.”

They ordered, then Yvonne got down to business.

“Why did you think that group was ‘weird’ when they approached you?” she said.

“It’s not my scene but I know something about how those operations work,” said Even. “The guys who approached me were talking really good money – more than they could expect to get even from rich clients. Where was the profit for them? And it was to be in some sort of apartment block where the girls would live in their own places as well as entertain clients. Really? High end girls are booked and go out to clients – they don’t want to live in the same place they do business.”

“Some girls took the offer?” said Yvonne.

Even shrugged. “Good money if you don’t mind the work, and no rent to pay. But like I said it sounded weird from the start, and the way the offer was made seemed strange.”

“Strange, how-so?” asked Yvonne.

“A man and a woman approached me, but they made it clear that they reported to others. The woman said something about her boss not understanding relationships.” Yvonne and Gel exchanged glances. “And how it would all be explained fully if I agreed to sign-up.”

“It’s the bosses that interest me,” said Yvonne.

“You’re not interested in this brothel thing just who’s behind it,” said Eve. “That makes way more sense.”

***

“Still want to arrest me, Lawn Mower?” Gel asked Lewandowski.

“Stop calling me that. I was just asking questions,” the detective said.

“To me you’ll always be Lawn Mower, but enough of the small talk where is Captain Edge?”

“Didn’t he send you here?” said Dr Addanc. “He said he was going to get help.”

“No-one’s heard from him since you guys left Fort Apache for parts unknown, for reasons unspecified to anyone on staff,” said Gel. “Colonel Lee sent my group on her own initiative, to find out what had happened to you guys and the two newly arrived squads of the Guards regiment.”

“Edge hasn’t spoken to you at all?” said Addanc, apparently astonished.

“I told you we haven’t heard from him. General Sims is hitting the roof over unauthorised activity. Lucky for you, Captain Edge’s girlfriend overheard a couple of snippets of your conversation, so we knew where to start looking. But enough of this! We have to get moving, now. You!” He pointed at the man who had spoken to him when he first came in. “You the leader here, and what’s your name?”

“Cale,” said the man. “I guess I am the leader.” He was in his mid-40s, Gel supposed, tall, dark and angular as near as he could tell under the clothes. Like the rest of the refugees Cale was swathed in whatever coats, scarves they could find, topped by a fur lined hat with flaps.

“We need everyone here to move soon and move fast. Make sure every child has someone with them, as well as the pregnant lady and assign stretcher bearers.” Gel turned to the soldier on the stretcher who had obviously taken a bullet to the leg. “You able to hang onto our mule synth?”

“Yes, I can do that, sir,” said the guardsman.

“Right, one person to help him along and there’s at least one more wounded outside. We are moving in minutes.”

“I guess we can help with the wounded,” said Cale, “but aren’t you guys supposed to be helping us?”

“We are helping you,” said Gel. “You want to get out? Well, we’re not going anywhere without our wounded. Get busy – and make sure these two,” he indicated Addanc and Lewandowski, “have a job.”

“I’m not supposed to be involved in such matters,” protested Addanc.

“Dr Addanc,” said Gel, quietly but with considerable intensity, “you help with the wounded, or I’ll leave you behind to explain to the Hoodies why you didn’t want to be useful.”

(Addanc later complained about Gel’s threat to Colonel Lee. “Quite right,” snorted the Colonel, “and I’d have done way worse to you than anything the Hoodies could dream up, if I found you hadn’t helped with the wounded.”)

Gel then thought to check on the back exit and found a guardsman, the only unwounded one they had found to date, keeping watch on what had once been a loading dock from behind a pile of rubble. One fresh Hoodie corpse sprawled near the dock entrance showed that he had been doing his job.

“They tried, but they weren’t serious, sir,” said the guardsman, a fresh-faced heavy-set man who might have come direct from a lecture hall. He was called Harvey, as both a first and last name, he said, and seemed to enjoy his work. Gel was confident he could hold out a little longer and went to find the people he had sent to the level below.

He found Theo, Cliffe and Edge’s bodyguard Sylvester hunkered down behind a pile of rubble between two pillars overlooking the main below ground entrance to the building – a concrete ramp which looked something like a railway station exit. It was a difficult position to rush but, to judge by the bodies Gel could see on the ramp, the Hoodies had tried.

“They’ve been getting just besides the ramp to the left there, where we can’t see them and throwing grenades,” said Sylvester after greeting Gel.

“Might be able to fix that,” said Gel. He crawled out to the right-most pillar then rose to a crouch so that his body was still covered by the pillar and rubble, and carefully sighted the rocket launcher on the area beside the ramp railing. He could not see, or shoot, anything but he was able to make out a slight reflection in the surface of the railing. When the reflection changed he fired, the high explosive round hitting the concrete just behind where he suspected the grenade thrower was hiding.

Gel ducked behind the rubble as the rocket hit with a whump, causing debris to drizzle from the ceiling. When he looked back, he could just see the top of a hood-covered head and bloodied hand belonging to a body slumped on the concrete. He crawled back to the others.

“They’ll rethink the hand grenade throwing for a time,” he said. “We’re leaving real soon so get ready.”

“How so, sir?” said Sylvester. “We can’t go out that way, there are Hoodies front and back topside and we’ve got refugees to drag along.”

“We’ve got fire support,” said Gel, “and I intend to use it. Where, incidentally, has Captain Edge got to and how come you’re not with him? We appreciate having you around, it’s just that Command has been hassling me about where he’s got to.”

“When we got here, we liberated those refugees by chasing away the Hoodie guards,” said Sylvester. “But the guards called in more Hoodies and, after a fight Captain Edge said he’d take a squad of the Guards and go and get help.”

“Take away most of the fighters to get help?” said Gel.

“I told him it was his job to stay here, sir,” said Sylvester. “I told him he should send one of the squad leaders with another body to get help. He told me that I was just a bodyguard and that I should get ready to go. I told him that I hadn’t been an Imperial Marine for twenty years to walk away from soldiers in trouble, and that if he left, I quit. He said I could suit myself and left. One of the squad leaders used rocket launchers and grenades for cover to break out North along the main avenue on the surface.”

“Why didn’t he call it in and ask for a rescue?”

“The only real Comms we had got trashed when our transport got messed up, sir. The guard’s equipment uses different frequencies and they hadn’t changed over. Only takes a few minutes at base, but my understanding is that Dr Addanc was concerned over the guardsmen and guardswomen talking out of turn.”

“What a mess, but it’s not my problem,” said Gel. “My job is to clean up. Get ready to go. When you get the call, throw grenades down there and get to the back entrance, fast. There’s a loading dock. We’ll be minutes.”

Sylvester said, “yessir”, Theo said “okay Skip” and Cliffe nodded.

Back on the ground floor, after checking with Dawlish; to be told that the Hoodies still seemed stunned by the missile strike, Gel called Hartmann.

“We need a place nearby we can set down a transport. We are going out the back – that’s East - and a block or two down. I’m thinking maybe the top of a building where the sides are high enough to protect the transport.

“Flight, you with us?”

“Its real peaceful up here above you Lieutenant,” said Flight, cheerfully. She had gone back to base to refuel and was now holding station high above the city to avoid detection and stray missiles. “Just give me a spot and I’ll set this crate down.”

“Okay. Hartmann, we can’t go far now that I think of it. Work fast and, oh yes, I want to drop a pattern of three of those missiles just outside the back entrance of this building on my say so.”

“Three, Skip? That’ll be a real bang.”

“I aim to please,” said Gel.

He went back to the refugee room and got the group, which included Dr Addanc and Lewandowski as part of a four person stretcher bearer detail out into the elevator corridor. The other two wounded were strapped to the Mule Synth.

Alyssa got his attention.

“That wounded guardsman,” she indicated the stretcher, “needs to get to the operating theatre real soon.”

“We’re making a dash for our transport now but before we do, Dr Addanc I noticed something about one of the Hoodies we killed out there, you can put your stretcher down for a moment.” Gel went to the Hoodie body he had dragged in from the street and pulled back the hood of its head to reveal a human with cables implanted on each side of the skull, with those cables connected to a small flat box carried in a pouch on his upper chest.

“He’s wired up just like Jerrold was back on Outpost-3,” he said. “This guy is a Gagrim in a human body, and I suspect he was leading the attack. Is this why we’ve all been dragged here?”

“It confirms what we suspected,” said Dr Addanc, “the Gagrim are in charge.”

“Just like I said when I saw this stuff on Outpost-3,” said Alyssa. “It’s more crazy shit.”

***

After supper, Even demanded that Gel give her a lift home.

“Is Boris going to be around to shoot me?” he asked.

“He’s never home when I get there,” she said, “but if you’re scared you can drop me down the street.”

“I prefer scared and alive to fearless and dead,” said Gel, “but sure.”

As they left, he looked back to see Yvonne wagging her finger at him.

“Are you also the Eye?” said Even quietly as they walked to the pick up point. The car would drive itself there.

“Nope, simple soldier, that’s me.”

“Yeah, right!” snorted Even. “Like I said, you’re full of shit, Obsidian. How come you happen to know Yvonne, then - if that’s her real name?”

“First names are usually the same – she contacted me as she wanted to know more about my activities on Outpost-3 after my superiors had passed on my report.”

“What activities?”

“It’s classified. Even us simple soldiers know when to keep our mouths shut.”

“And you don’t trust me?”

“The trouble is you’re slim and hot – a real, suspicious femme fatale,” said Gel. “If you were fat and frumpy, I’d tell you all.”

Even laughed. “You slid out of that one, simple soldier Obsidian. Anyway, I want to hear about this fiancée of yours paying for a first session with Heather.”

“When she handed me Athena’s card – Athena is Heather’s working name - it was the first time we’d spoken since I found out she’d been having an affair.”

“Really? Is there’s enough distance in this to laugh about it?” asked Even.

“I’ve been through a lot since then,” said Gel. “Now I use the story to make other girls sympathetic.”

Even rolled her eyes. “The guy grieving process. Let’s hear the tale.”

***

“Hartmann, launch,” said Gel. A little later the ground shook as three missiles hit the ground outside the building’s back entrance, making the party of refugees and soldiers waiting in the loading dock hug the concrete and spraying them with snow.

“Go, go,” Gel told his group. The soldiers and refugees dashed out or, in the case of those carting the stretcher, jogged as best they could. Theo and Cliffe were in the lead, scanning on infrared and night vision for any movement. Gel and the storm cannon toting Parkinson were at the sides and the rest of the soldiers bringing up the rear with Squad Leader Dawlish. Gel had decided that they would stay above ground, trust to the darkness and hope their Hoodie besiegers would be too stunned to keep tabs on which way his group had gone.

They passed down an ally way in pitch darkness. Without scanners the soldiers would have been unable to see anything at all. The refuges held on to each other. They crossed what might have been a road covered in a thick blanket of snow, and through another alley. With Dr Addanc visibly tiring – he was considerably older than the others – Gel took over one side of his stretcher.

“Seeing some movement now,” said Hartmann. “Just a couple of people spaced out and they are following you.”

Gel realised that to avoid the missiles he had been calling down, the Hoodie commander had opted to tail the group with scouts and send the rest underground, to emerge wherever his group stopped. All the more reason to go up. They reached the targeted building. Theo and Cliffe scouted ahead, found no-one on the ground floor then started checking each floor. The rest followed, hauling the stretchers up the building’s fire staircase.

“Clear at the site,” said Theo over comms.

“Check exits,” said Gel. “Flight, you’re up. Like we discussed you need to come down fast.”

“My husband told me that once,” said Flight cheerfully. “One fast descent coming down.”

By the time they reached what was once an elegant top floor ballroom, the transport was descending through what remained of the roof to settle on the snow-covered dance floor, all lights off.

“They still have the sound equipment,” said Alyssa, pointing to a dais at one end with two speaker boxes, half buried in snow. “We could have a dance.”

“Invite the Hoodie girls,” suggested Theo. “Maybe the Hoodie we captured wouldn’t shoot me.” The captive had been left behind in the same building in which she had been captured.

“Wouldn’t count on it,” said Dawlish.

They loaded the wounded then the refugees filed on, Gel urging them to hurry, leaving only the unwounded soldiers, Dr Addanc, the detective and Sylvester.

“Room for one more,” said Cale.

“You’re a civilian Sylvester and a jobless one,” said Gel. “There’s no need for you to hang around.”

“I’ll stay if you have no objection,” said Sylvester. “I’m not finished with my former boss, but I can do something to make up for him bugging out.”

“Glad of the extra hand,” said Gel, “but you’re not in uniform. It could go hard with you if the Hoodies capture us.”

“Hoodies don’t play by those rules, Skip,” said Dawlish.

“I’m not about to be captured,” said Sylvester.

“Suit yourself,” said Gel. “Too much discussion. Let’s roll Flight. We’ll tell you when we’re clear enough for you to come back to get us.”

The transport engines whined.

“Hartmann, where are our hostiles?”

“Building next door to the West,” said Hartmann. He was trying to sound more efficient than usual as Addison had dropped in with take-out food that would serve as breakfast. “Looks like they’re on the roof.”

“Gotit,” said Gel. “Flight, hold for a moment while we deal with hostiles. Theo and Parkinson on me. Dawlish, arrange our exit out a side window using the Mule-synth and keep an eye on the other entrances to this place. We can expect company from the underground passages real soon.”

As Gel’s group scattered, Lieutenant Barastoc, Hartmann’s boss in the IT section, strolled into Hartmann’s tiny nook near the Colonel’s office.

“When are you returning to us, Hartmann?” he said cheerfully, “and I see from the presence of the squad leader here with take out that you’ve been speaking to women. I told you no good would come of that.” He shook his head in mock sadness at Addison. “You should stop this now before the inevitable misery, Squad Leader.”

“No misery so far, sir,” said Addison, smiling.

“I’m staying another day or so, sir,” said Hartmann. “Still keeping tabs on Lieutenant Obsidian’s side project.”

“You guys don’t file reports to the main logs, I see,” said Barastoc.

“Colonel’s eyes only, sir, and my section has a separate firewall. You remember command was worried about hacking.”

“I told ’em there was nothing in it,” grumbled Barastoc, “but you can run more security checks when you get back. Where is Lieutenant Obsidian with his side project at the moment?”

“In a ball room in Jasper, sir, but they’re not sure where they’re going from there.”

Addison, in the process of nibbling on an Italian meat ball, stopped her nibbling to look at Hartmann, curiously.

“Okay,” said Barastoc, “let me know when you can return, and Squad Leader Addison, there’s still time to bail. If you study Russian literature, you know that the only result of any human action is sadness – suffering and sadness.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” she said.

After Barastoc had left Addison said, “you didn’t tell him they’re going out the back?”

“Operational security,” said Hartmann. “The skipper insists on it.”

“Quite right,” said Gel who had heard some of the exchange. “Put me on speaker.”

After he did so, Gel said, “Is that Squad Leader Addison I hear?”

“Yes sir,” said Addison. “I was bringing Private Hartmann breakfast. I had to get up early for expected transports.”

“Breakfast?” said Gel. Then looked at the time on his helmet interface. “Nearly five? No wonder I was getting sleepy, and hungry. Okay team, we’re almost done here. Let’s keep it together. Squad Leader, you’ll ensure that Hartmann does not become distracted.”

“Of course, sir.”

Alyssa, who was listening in on the team comm link, made a noise somewhere between a snort and a grunt.

“And if any of the dock workers gives you grief, I can be contacted out here.”

“There’s been no trouble, but I’ll remember that, sir.”

Gel’s trio found the back staircase and crawled out onto what remained of the roof. All they could see of the roof opposite was two large heating units, now frozen over and buried in snow, which were a feature of all the buildings.

“Anyone see our hostiles?” asked Gel quietly.

“Keeping their heads well down, Skip,” said Theo. “Those heating units make good cover.”

“They do at that. I’ll put two anti-armour Dart-Gun rounds into them when Flight launches. If anyone pokes their head up after that, blast them.”

“No problem, Skip,” said Theo.

“Okay, Flight, away you go.”

Just as the top of the transport showed above the wall, Gel shot two rounds into each unit, spraying snow and bits of metal all over the roof. After a second Parkinson’s storm cannon chattered.

“Thought I saw something, Skip,” he said.

By then the transport was a dot in the night sky.

“Hopefully a dead something now,” said Gel.

“No wonder they don’t build ’em high in Jasper,” grumbled Theo. “It’s colder on the higher levels.”

“What was that Barastoc said about Russian literature?” asked Gel.

“Suffering and sadness?” said Hartmann over the comms link.

“He forgot cold. At least it’s warm this time of year on Lighthold.”

***

Gel thought that the night was warm or perhaps it was just having Even in the passenger seat as they drove to her home deep in Five Ways made him hot. She grilled Gel about what his ex – fiancée Alison had hoped to achieve by paying for a visit to Heather/Athena. Gel then told her that Alison had first offered him an affair with her BFF Amelia.

“For real?” exclaimed Even. “I’ve seen the web channel this Amelia runs. She’s nutty as hell but real competition. Did you ever call her?”

“Nope. Like you said she’s a nut – a charming nut, I admit, but I don’t think I could handle someone who seriously tries to fix their car with crystal energies.”

Even laughed outright.

“I saw that item on her channel,” she chortled. “She was puzzled about why it didn’t work.”

“I didn’t see it, but I heard about it,” said Gel. “The guys who saw it cared only that she was trying to use crystals while wearing cut-off jeans and a crop top.”

“A big selling point,” admitted Even. “Did Amelia know that Alison was throwing her at you?”

“Don’t believe so. Amelia is beautiful and nutty, not cold or calculating. But like I said, my hold on sanity is shaky as it is. Dating Amelia might break it entirely.”

Even laughed again. “You’re a poor rich boy aren’t you?”

“True. Maybe I can play the sympathy card? Do I get any sympathy?”

“I dunno,” said Even smiling. “We Five Ways girls aren’t big on sympathy. No money, don’t waste our time.”

“There you go, I’m a poor rich kid that’s now poor, so I’ve got no hope.”

“You’re full of shit, Obsidian,” she retorted. “Theo was telling me that apartment of yours has its own AI, cleaning droid and a view of the harbour. You’ve got more than a soldier’s salary and don’t hand me any jive about soldiers these days being paid well.”

“It’s a converted factory in a bad neighbourhood,” said Gel. “Keeps me off the streets is all.”

“Ha!” snorted Even. “This former fiancée of yours didn’t get the pre-nup back on track with these offers?”

“Nope. I didn’t bite, and it’s been well over a year. I heard she was marrying someone else and, yes, someone with money.”

“Of course,” said Even. “Much older than her?”

“I sorta know the guy – he’s one of the other founding families - and he’s maybe a few years older than me.”

“But he wouldn’t have the big dough like you have,” she said.

“Used to have.”

“Ha,” said Even. “You know, Heather’s not the only one I know at the place she works. I also know Annie.”

“Asian Annie? Now she’s a mercenary.”

“She is, and she was complaining to me that you are loyal to Heather.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do but discuss me with others?”

“I met her around and the subject came up. Ex-billionaires turned gun slingers stand out, even in Five Ways, so it’s a natural topic of conversation among us girls. She said she’s left you heaps of openings, but you haven’t been biting.”

“Life with Heather is weird enough without getting involved with Annie, and I’ve been trying to avoid mercenaries. Heather isn’t like that, or at least not much like that.”

“No, she isn’t but you know what I also look for besides money? Trust. Girls need to know a guy can keep his pants on when she’s not around.” Before Gel could answer she pointed to a corner in the tenement house district they were in. “I’m here, just drop me on that corner. There’s no light on in the apartment so Boris isn’t home but we don’t want the neighbours gossiping.”

“Doesn’t look like the kinda place where neighbours gossip over their back fences.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I guess,” said Gel. “But it is the kinda place that I‘d better wait in the car until you get to your front door.”

She smiled. “You are sweet.” She kissed him on the cheek then slid out of the car. “Come and see me sing some time,” she said, holding open the door. “Drop me a line before you do, and I’ll get you back stage.”

“Sure, I’ll do that,” said Gel, wondering if me would. He watched her while she walked to her door, moving the car to keep her in view. When she got to her door she gave a little wave and smiled at him before going through it.

On his way home Gel realised, great fat male lump that he was, that he was smiling.

***

Gel was thinking of Even on that warm night when he re-joined the rest of his small group on what had once been a dance floor.

“Now we’ve gotten rid of the wounded and refugees, guys,” he said. “we can think of ourselves. Let’s move.”

“We’re not going to stay and dance?” asked Alyssa.

“Nope. Too much trouble to clear away the snow.”

They heard a distant Whump! Whump!

“Ralph on the main entrance dropped a couple of grenades, skipper,” said Dawlish. “Movement down below. We’ve got an escape route sorted through the ladies’ toilets at the back of the dance floor.”

“Charming. Okay let’s organise the Mule-Synth to let us down one by one.” Gel had thought to include rope in the Synth’s kit. “Theo and Parkinson down first to set up a perimeter.”

“We’re not staying here?” asked Dr Addanc.

“I’m not into glorious last stands, Doctor,” said Gel. “In about an hour maybe, our Hoodie friends will have rocket launchers on nearby buildings and we won’t get a transport in here. Instead, we’ll slip away and if they try to follow us, we can bring down another of those useful tac missiles on their scrawny rear ends. Then we’ve got a whole city to lose ourselves in, before arranging our own pickup.”

“Sounds good,” said Alyssa.

“I never thought I’d issue this order,” said Gel, “but everyone to the Ladies toilets.”

Gel posted himself by the door to the toilets, along with Dawlish, and fired high explosive rounds from his launcher three times, twice when he could see movement at the near entrance to the ball room, and once at the far end. Dawlish fired a few times, more to keep Hoodie heads down than with any hope of hitting anything.

Then Gel felt a tap on his shoulder and, a few seconds later was lowered at speed out of the fourth storey window by the unit’s lifting droid, dropping the last two metres into snow. With some remote prompting by Dawlish who had control over the droid through a tablet, the creature followed a split second later by simply rolling out of the window and dropping onto the spot hastily vacated by Gel. They were designed to survive such falls.

With everyone down, the unit moved off, pretending to be a Hoodie patrol, as gunfire echoed from the top story of the building. The Hoodies were storming the ladies toilets. The echoes had barely died away before darkness had swallowed up Gel’s small command.