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  "You don't want to do that," the man said. "Nothing good ever came from trying to deal with the Dawn Alliance."

  "Nothing good ever came from whispering with strangers in a café." The woman stood, took a swig from her cup, grabbed a last slice of fruit from her plate, and sniffed.

  "Ease up, Brenda," the man said. "The DA's haven't done anything to you yet, but they'll probably get around to it."

  "They're the authorities," Brenda said. "Like it or not. While these two …" Her gaze swept over Alice and Jones. "Come skulking in here like thieves trying to drag us into whatever it is they're involved in." Her lip curled. "What are you, fugitives from the law? Smugglers? Free Planets terrorists?"

  Alice bristled in spite of herself, and Brenda flashed a spite-filled smile. "I knew it. You're a couple of professional troublemakers. Well, you're not pulling me into whatever it is you're doing." She looked at the man. "Are you coming?" When he rolled his eyes by way of reply she sniffed again, shoved the slice of fruit into her mouth, and stalked out, head high, her back as straight as a laser beam.

  "Bloody woman," the man muttered. He stuck out a thick hand, the blunt fingers fuzzy with blond hair. "My name's Sean."

  Alice shook his hand. Jones did the same.

  Sean glanced over his shoulder, checking that Brenda was gone, then leaned forward and gave Alice a roguish grin. "Okay, give it to me green. What's really going on?"

  For a moment she stared at him, her mind racing in circles, trying to come up with a plausible story. Then she blurted, "We're from a United Worlds ship. It's almost out of fuel. We need to steal enough fuel to get back to Garnet."

  Jones shot her a scathing look. Sean gaped at her, then nodded. His grin reappeared. "Wow," he said. Then again, "Wow."

  Jones gave her a final glare, then turned to Sean. "That tanker out there." He jerked a thumb, pointing. "Is it full?"

  "About half," Sean said. "Give or take. We use it for local fuel storage. There's a refinery by the pole, and when it gets below twenty percent or so they drain it off into the local storage tank and head up to the refinery for more." He looked from Jones to Alice with the glee of a small boy with his first slingshot. "Are you going to steal it?"

  "The thought may have crossed our minds," Alice admitted.

  "Amazing." Sean's eyes went out of focus for a moment, and he cupped his chin in his hand. "It should be ready to go. It's been, let me see, two and a half weeks since the last flight. She'll need time to warm up, but she should be ready to fly." He glanced in the direction of the tanker. "They usually do a tuneup before each flight, but that's more of a best practice than a strict necessity. All you need is a key strip and five uninterrupted minutes and you'll be free and clear."

  Jones said, "Key strip?"

  "They use a key strip system for government ships," Sean said. "The strips are locked up in the manager's office." He gestured toward the main terminal area.

  "I think we can get into a locked office," Jones said.

  "I can fly the ship," Sean said. When Jones gave him a dubious look he said, "I was getting bored with short-haul flights even before the Dawn Alliance showed up. But this?" A wicked gleam showed in his eyes. "This won't be boring at all."

  "No it won't," Jones agreed. "Well, I won't try to talk you out of it. Truth is, we could use your help."

  For an instant a flash of terror showed on the pilot's face, vanishing as his excitement returned. Pilots, Alice thought. They're lunatics, every one of them.

  "Show me this manager's office," Jones said, and stood.

  Sean and Alice stood as well. "Right through here," Sean said, and led the way through a sliding door into the main terminal area.

  The place had filled a bit since Alice and Jones had passed through. A dozen or so people milled around, some fiddling with luggage, others exchanging hugs. A transport had to be leaving soon. Alice saw a young woman in a green jacket not unlike her own, and wondered if she was a Free Planets sympathizer. There was no way to be sure. Some people just liked the color green.

  Sean said, "The office area is … Uh-oh."

  Alice looked at him, saw him staring at the front of the hall, and turned her head to follow his gaze. She was just in time to see a pair of vehicles roll to a stop outside. They were ground cars, big solid-looking things, and they stopped almost close enough to touch the front wall. She knew it was trouble even before the doors flew open and soldiers in dark fatigues burst out.

  On an impulse she moved away from the others, thinking she might protect Sean by looking as if she wasn't with him. She managed seven or eight steps before the terminal doors slid open and armed men came pouring in.

  Jones swore and hauled up his shirt with one hand, reaching for his pistol with the other. A soldier fired, a single shot from a blast carbine. The shot took Jones low in the chest and he grunted, his arms flying out to the sides as he tumbled to the floor. Soldiers dashed forward, two of them pinning his arms, a third grabbing his pistol.

  Sean raised his hands, but the soldiers ignored him, rushing past to point their carbines at the travelers. Someone screamed, others raised their hands, and a pair of soldiers slung their rifles so they could grab the arms of the woman in the green jacket.

  Only when Alice's shoulder bumped a wall did she realize she had never stopped moving. She was at the back wall of the terminal, not far from the doors to the field.

  "That's not her!" The voice belonged to Brenda. She strode into the terminal behind the soldiers, hands planted on her hips, her face a mask of righteous indignation. She glared at the soldiers holding the woman in green. "That's the wrong woman." Her gaze swept the terminal and came to rest on Alice. Her arm rose, index finger pointing like the barrel of a carbine. "There! That's the other one, right there!"

  The doors slid open with a hiss and Alice fled onto the field.

  She ran toward the nearest ship, thinking to dart around it and hide. It was the Laureline, and she angled a bit to the right, heading for a fat landing strut. Only when she was half a dozen paces from the strut did she see the man. He wore red technician's coveralls with fat reflective stripes, and he stared at her, a p-wrench forgotten in his hand, as she darted around the strut. She pressed her back to the thick metal leg, panting, and stared at him, waiting for him to point her out to the soldiers who had to be dashing out of the terminal.

  He gaped at her, his face blank with astonishment. Voices shouted behind her, and the man turned his head. An angry voice said, "You there! Where did that woman go?"

  The technician said, "Woman?"

  "A woman in a green coat. She just ran out of the terminal."

  "She's right there." And the red-clad arm rose, pointing.

  But not at Alice.

  "She ran along the back wall of the terminal and around the corner. You just missed her."

  That's what I should have done, Alice thought. I should have run around the building.

  Feet thumped on asphalt behind her. All she could do was stand frozen and wait to see if the technician's gambit would work.

  Something sailed through the air and clattered on the asphalt at her feet. "Use that on the fence," the technician said. "Don't go yet, though. Wait till I tell you."

  She knelt and picked up a plastic rectangle molded to fit her palm. There was a fat yellow button by her thumb, and a smaller red button on the far side. The red button was a safety; when she pressed it she was able to push the yellow button. A short circle of metal emerged from the end of the handle, and she felt warmth against the tip of her thumb. It was a heat cutter. It would make short work of the fence.

  "Now!" said the technician. "Quick."

  There wasn't even time to thank him. She fled for the fence, terror chasing away the ache in her legs. Three quick swipes with the cutter made a triangular opening in the fence. She squeezed through, pocketed the cutter, then stripped off her jacket and dropped it.

  Her jangled nerves demanded that she run. She made herself stroll instead. Only Brenda
had seen her face. The soldiers would have had only the briefest of glances before she dashed outside. They wouldn’t remember much more than a running woman in a green coat.

  Angling away from the fence, she circled a building and returned to the main boulevard that ran in front of the terminal. She risked a single glance toward the terminal and the military ground cars parked in front.

  She was just in time to see Jones come out of the terminal, a soldier on either side. The front of his shirt sported a ragged, blackened hole, and his body armor was badly scorched, but he was walking unaided. He didn't seem hurt.

  Every civilian in sight gaped at the soldiers, so Alice gaped too. Turning away would only make her more conspicuous. She watched as the soldiers shoved Jones into a ground car, then climbed in after him.

  Sean came out of the terminal. He folded his arms and glared at the last of the soldiers as they got into the other ground car. To Alice's relief they ignored him as both vehicles rolled away.

  A moment later Brenda came out of the terminal. Alice turned quickly and walked away.

  Chapter 9

  "You're sure he's alive?"

  Alice, sitting next to Harper in the cab of the Big Red Dog, nodded. Then, for the benefit of Unger and O'Hare who were in the back of the truck, she put on the little radio headset Harper had given her and said, "Yes. I'm certain."

  "We needs to find out where they's holding him."

  "The police station," Alice said. "Sean said the DA's using it for a headquarters."

  Harper stared at her, his eyes going out of focus. "Right," he said at last, and opened his window. "Hey," he barked to a passing couple. "Where's the police station?"

  "Two blocks up and turn right," a man replied. "You don't want to go there, though. It's been taken over by …"

  Harper started the Dog rolling, and the man's voice trailed off. "Gear up," Harper said. "Stark, I wants you ready to lift off."

  "Roger," said Stark over the radio. He was back at the farm, sitting at the controls of the shuttle.

  "Wait," said Alice. "Aren't you going to – I don't know – put together a plan? Gather intel?"

  "Got all the intel we need," Harper said. "Two blocks up and one over, remember?" He glanced at her, and grinned. "Yes, we could use some time to prepare. But so could they. If we spends a couple hours preparing, they spends a couple hours looking for us. And maybe they finds us. Or maybe they starts thinking we might try a rescue, and they calls in reinforcements." He hauled back on three levers, bringing the Dog around in a sharp left turn. A woman with her arms full of shopping bags leaped back as the Dog's tires rolled across the sidewalk. "No, we'll do what they calls an 'improvisation-oriented' extraction. In and out before they knows what hit 'em."

  The Dog lurched to a halt. "You stay here," Harper said to Alice. "Pete's crater gun is behind your seat if you need it." He swung his door open. "Let's go!"

  Alice watched, frozen, as Harper and Lachance hopped out. She heard a distant creak and thud as the back of the truck swung open, and then all four marines hustled up a broad flight of stairs and into a building with DISTRICT ONE POLICE HEADQUARTERS emblazoned above the doors.

  They were gone from sight in a moment, leaving the street strangely quiet. A fat elderly man stood just in front of the Dog, his mouth open, staring at the station entrance. Aside from him, no one seemed to have noticed a thing.

  Alice slid over to the driver's seat, taking a moment to review the basic controls. She didn't want to throw the Dog into reverse in a moment of panic while the marines were piling in.

  She started to reach for the crater gun behind the passenger seat, then hesitated. What if somebody sees me with a gun? She felt strangely indecisive, overwhelmed by the moment.

  A moment later she wished she had the gun in her hands. A low black ground car came racing up, squealing to a halt with two tires on the sidewalk, and a pair of men leaped out. They wore black uniforms, not the fatigues of the soldiers she'd seen, but they were clearly military. They ignored the Dog completely, drawing sidearms and hurrying up the steps.

  They paused, one on either side of the doors to the station, and Alice stared at them, filled with a sense of unreality. I'm in a gigantic red farm truck. How could they possibly not notice? The truck just looked so … harmless, though. If either soldier had taken a moment to think, they would have taken her into custody or shot her out of hand. But their attention was focussed on the station.

  One man nodded to the other, then yanked open one door. The other man sprang through, and his partner followed him inside. The doors swung shut.

  And Alice grabbed the crater gun, an ugly, snub-nosed thing with a shoulder stock and a fat magazine just below the muzzle. It was heavier than she'd expected. She opened her door and hurried around the front of the truck. A terrified voice in her head screamed at her to stay where she was, but the marines didn't know they had two new enemies coming at them from behind.

  Only later would Alice remember she was wearing a radio headset. Caught up in the moment, she hauled the door to the station open and stepped inside.

  Ahead of her was a staircase, one flight leading up, one leading down. The crack of gunfire came from somewhere above. The two soldiers were on the stairs, several steps up, both of them turning to face her. Two handguns swung around, the muzzles looking as big as tree trunks. She didn't know she was lifting the crater gun until it jerked against her hands and the stock thumped against her ribs. There was a sound like a paper bag popping and one soldier flew backward, his weapon clattering on the steps.

  The second man fired, Alice jerked her head sideways as crimson energy filled the air beside her head, and she frantically squeezed the trigger of the crater gun. It was point-blank range, but her first shot blasted tiles from the stairs behind the man and the second shot just managed to scorch his sleeve. The next two shots punched into his chest and he tumbled forward, landing with his head almost touching Alice's foot.

  For a moment she stood frozen, every muscle rigid, filled with an urge to scream and unable to make so much as a peep. It reminded her of her first pirate raid, when panic had scrambled her thoughts. The memory was enough to snap her out of the worst of the shock, and she did what she'd done on that long-ago day. She took a deep breath, exhaled, then shook her head. She shook her limbs one at a time, and by the time she was done the paralysis was gone and her mind was almost clear.

  The doors banged open behind her, and she sprang forward, dashing for the down staircase. Blasts of energy flashed past her head and she screamed, leaped into space, and cleared the first flight of stairs, coming down hard on the landing. She sprang sideways as shots tore apart the wall, then made another leap, landing at the bottom of the stairs. Feet thumped on the stairs above her and she sprayed the stairs with wild shots from the crater gun.

  "We've got more coming in the front door." The voice in her ear made her jump. "Alice, are you all right?"

  "I'm in the basement," she said, her voice a frightened squeak.

  "Alice? Do you copy? Get clear if you can."

  Belatedly she reached up and activated the radio. "I'm downstairs."

  "There's a back door," Harper said. "And another staircase. Come up to the top floor. Stark, get over here and extract us."

  Alice fired another few shots up the stairs, then turned and moved deeper into the building. She expected to hear booted feet coming down the stairs. Instead she heard a clatter, like something small and metallic bouncing from step to step. She thought about throwing herself flat, and opted instead for dashing through the nearest doorway and pressing her back to the wall.

  An explosion turned the world to heat and blazing red light. The impact on her eardrums stunned her, and the crater gun tumbled from her hands. For a moment she stood there, numb and disoriented. She knelt, snatched up the gun, and stood, wondering why she was still alive.

  Cells filled the corridor ahead of her, and a distracted corner of her mind put the pieces together. She'd found the
cell block. The walls would be reinforced. They'd protected her from the blast. Why the door was open was beyond her.

  She glanced back through the doorway. The corridor behind her burned, flames dancing across the carpet and writhing along one wall. Would it be enough to slow the soldiers upstairs?

  Perhaps. She wasn't going to wait around to find out.

  Four cells lined each side of the corridor, old-fashioned things with steel bars. Every cell was full, one prisoner each, a mix of men and women in merchant spacer uniforms. A burly man stretched an arm through the bars, gesticulating, his lips moving, the sound lost in an echoing buzz that seemed to fill Alice's entire skull. She shook her head and kept going, looking from cell to cell.

  Jones was in the last cell on the right. They'd stripped him to a singlet and trousers. Even his boots were gone. He was speaking urgently, hands gesturing to emphasize each word.

  "I can't hear you." She reached for her radio headset, wondering if she should turn it off. Instead she tugged it from around her ear and shoved it through the bars to Jones. "I can't hear," she said again, not sure how loud she was speaking.

  Jones' hand closed on her shoulder. He shook her for a moment, waited until she looked him in the face, then pointed to her left. He pushed her in that direction, and she stumbled forward, stopping at a metal box the size of her palm mounted chest-high on the wall. She wasted a moment staring at it, then fumbled until the front of the box swung up.

  Eight fat red buttons filled the box. Eight buttons, and eight cells.

  I sure hope these aren't the emergency prisoner electrocution buttons. She grinned at her own weak joke and started pressing buttons.

  Cell doors slid open and prisoners poured into the corridor. Alice heard a faint clatter as the nearest doors retracted, and felt a flutter of relief. I'm not completely deaf. Jones rushed out of the nearest cell, plucked the crater gun from her hand, and stepped past her. He fumbled at a panel, and the door at his end of the corridor slid open while the door at the far end slammed shut.