A slow smile spread over the Amazon’s face. “I guess it isn’t,” she said, suppressing the urge to laugh. “So which way do we send it?”
Mildred considered that for a second. “Send it to the right. It’ll either draw fire from the left or take them by surprise and make them give themselves away. Or maybe show that there’s no one there and that they’re making us sweat even more than we could have thought.”
“Don’t even suggest that,” the Amazon murmured. “So, will you or shall I?” And she gestured at the flare.
“Let me,” Mildred said. With which she left the Amazon behind the concrete pillar and edged forward to the point where the junction began. Pulling the pin on the flare, she tossed it to the right, a deft flick of the wrist taking the flare on a spinning course that described a wide arc in the air. A laser blast, aimed at the object, missed and hit a point where a concrete support met the ceiling of the corridor, flaking the white paint and blackening the surface.
“Well, well, what do you know?” Mildred murmured, looking back to the rest of the party, who had all moved forward. “Now we know where they are. All we’ve got to do is get them.”
“But how?” asked the plaited Amazon, more as a question to herself than to the others.
Mildred was about to make a suggestion when she was distracted by handblaster fire from beyond the ambush party. “What the hell is going on now?” she asked no one in particular, baffled.
WHAT WAS GOING ON was simply the arrival of Dean and his party of Amazons into the fray.
Having made their way through into the service ducts with ease, it was then difficult to find a service grille through which they could get out and into the redoubt itself. Dean figured that they were extraordinarily lucky to get as far as they had so quickly, and with little in the way of obstacles. That luck came to an end. The service duct was tight and dark, and seemed to stretch on into infinity, a twisting, winding maze that showed no light ahead from a grille leading out into the redoubt.
Dean led his party onward, his muscles aching and cramped from the constriction of the service duct. He fought against the growing sense of claustrophobia, and hoped that the Amazons to the rear of him weren’t suffering from the same problem.
“Hot pipe, how come there isn’t an exit anywhere in sight?” he muttered to himself as he came to a point where two ducts crossed. Stopping, he looked ahead and to each side. There, to the left, was a filtered ray of light. It looked to be a good five minutes away, and there was no way of knowing where it would bring them out, but it was all they had.
Taking a deep, decisive breath, Dean headed off toward the light, knowing that the rest of the party would be following to the rear. It was a trip that seemed all the slower and more tortuous because there was now an end in sight, but eventually they made it to the grille.
“Oh, great. This is just what we need,” Dean murmured as he looked through the grille. About twenty yards to the left of the opening was a group of sec men ensconced behind a barrier of metal-and-plastic strips that had obviously been constructed for such a defensive purpose. Their attention was focused ahead of them, so they hadn’t heard or seen what was going on behind the grille. In the light coming through from the outside, Dean could see that the grille would be easy to dislodge. But would they all be able to clear it before the sec force had a chance to turn and attack?
Dean’s question was answered for him when the flare lit up the corridor outside and drew some fire from the soldiers. In the intense light, Dean cast a quick glance back at the Amazons behind him. Their faces, hungry for battle, told him all he needed to know.
While the enemy’s attention was distracted, Dean twisted his body and kicked at the grille. It gave way and clattered onto the concrete floor. Before it even hit, Dean tumbled out, followed by the Amazons.