Pirates of the Outrigger Rift by Gary Jonas, Bill D. Allen Page A

covered with dirt and blood from numerous wounds, uniform in tatters.
    “Gee,” Brock said. “Did he put up much of a fight?”
    The man dropped to his knees, spent pulse rifle clacking to
the pavement beside him. He spoke into his comlink. “Control, this is Red Leader.
Red Team is gone. We need backup and medical. Send Blue Team to my location.”
    Brock knelt next to Larson and helped him apply direct
pressure to a bleeding flesh wound on his lower leg. “As I was saying,
Lieutenant Larson, oracles are known for heavily defending their bases of
operation. Perhaps you might have been better off calling for backup before you
stormed the building like a complete idiot.”
    “Fuck you.”
    “No thanks,” Brock said. “Personally, I would have stationed
men around the building to make sure no one could escape, then take a couple of
guys and apply a few well-positioned shape charges. Eliminate the targets
without risking the traps. But that’s just my opinion.”
    Another team arrived about ten minutes later along with
three ambulances. They ran to Brock and Larson.
    “Here’s the situation,” Brock began.
    The Blue Team leader ignored him. “What happened, Larson?”
    “It was a trap. I figure the best thing to do at this point
is to apply a few well-positioned shape charges. We’ll blow the bastards to
kingdom come!”
    Blue Leader nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. “Right. Come
on, men!”
    Larson struggled to rise and go with them. Brock tapped him
on the shoulder. “Make sure you use concussion charges instead of that
incendiary stuff or you’ll have an inferno on your hands. This whole block will
go up.”
    Larson shoved him. “Don’t tell us our business. We’re professionals.”
With that, he limped into the building behind Blue Team.
    Brock shook his head and leaned against the pole again to
watch the circus continue.

    Fire exploded into the night sky, the building burning
uncontrollably as Sai shouldered her way through the large crowd already
gathering to watch the spectacle. A short-haired woman clutching a young boy
blocked Sai’s path. The woman pointed and gasped as the fire progressed.
    “I’m glad we don’t live there,” the boy said.
    Sai maneuvered around the mother and son. An empty pit
opened in her stomach. She would never see Dirion again.
    “Move aside, people!” a voice called over a broadcaster. Emergency
vehicles tried to lower themselves to work the blaze, but the crowd didn’t seem
to notice them. The people stood entranced by the fire.
    Sai pushed her way through the throng, tears blurring her
vision. She looked back at the destruction wrought on Dirion’s home. The entire
top section of the apartment building had blown up. Nothing remained above the
fourth floor.
    Earlier, Dirion had given her instructions and hurried her
out the back exit to the stairs that led down to the street. As the door had shut
behind her, she’d had no idea that moments later the building would erupt into
flame.
    Dirion was dead. He was gone. She reached out and braced
herself against the wall of the building closest to her.
    His death was all her fault. She had led her pursuers right
to him. She nearly doubled over, but she had no time for tears. No time for
grief. Dirion wanted her to forge on. All she had left was her life, and even
that wouldn’t last long if these people didn’t get out of the way. She had to
get off Raken.
    As she struggled through the crowd, a face caught her
attention. It was the security man from the bar who had first spotted her. He
watched the blaze progress along with his men, all still wearing their trench coats.
    Sai moved on, trying to keep low and out of sight. Just as
she reached the corner she heard one of them shout, “There she is! All units,
this is Green Leader. The girl’s alive!”
    Damn! She turned the corner, hoping to outrun them, slowed
as they were by the crowd. She started toward a muddy back alley, trying to
lose herself among the onlookers.