Free Terms of Enlistment 01.2: Measures of Absolution by Marko Kloos Page A

unit is making a drop onto this block right now, they’re coming in force, maybe an entire battalion dropping at once.
    “They’re on Tower Thirteen,” Lazarus says into the earpiece he’s wearing. “Don’t engage. Let them have it. Second platoon, fall back to the atrium and take the rabbit warren down to the admin center. We’ll meet up with you there.”
    They’re a hundred meters from the admin building in the middle of the square when another Hornet swoops out of the sky and thunders down toward the square. Jackson sees the skids of the drop ship lower out of the belly armor as the Hornet swings around to claim a landing spot. There’s rifle fire in the distance between two residence towers, and a moment later, an explosion blooms up in the same spot. The sound of the detonation rolls across the plaza like the rumbling thunder of an approaching storm.
    “TA squads on the ground between Thirteen and Fourteen. Also in Blocks Five and Six. They’re all over the place, sir,” one of the troopers says, listening to the comms in his own headset.
    There are civvies on the plaza, most of them without weapons and moving away from the spot where the drop ship is descending. It settles on the landing pad at the top of the admin center, a hundred meters away. Then the tail ramp opens with a low whine, and a platoon of TA come rushing out. They take up positions at the edge of the roof. Behind them, the drop ship guns its engines and lifts off again, raising the ramp in mid-air. It rises into the night sky, position lights flashing in the haze. The TA troopers file into the rooftop staircase one by one, weapons at the ready.
    “We have a TA platoon on the ground at the admin center,” Lazarus says into his headset. “Second platoon, don’t engage them. Pass through and make for the fallback.”
    Another drop ship weaves its way between two of the residence towers ahead and thunders over the plaza at low altitude before banking and turning to the right. They’re so low that Jackson can see the decals on the helmets of the pilots as the ship roars directly overhead.
    “Told you they’d come back,” she says to Lazarus. He turns around and glares at her.
    “They’re not coming for you . They’re coming for their gear . They’re here to send a message, you dumb shit.”
    There’s rifle fire coming from the inside of the admin center now, short staccato bursts of automatic fire. A muffled explosion follows, then another.
    “Sir, Second Platoon is engaged in the admin center.”
    “Goddammit,” Lazarus says. He looks over to Jackson, then points at Olsen and the other civvie who escorted her from the room earlier.
    “Olsen, Lepitre. Take our guest here over to the warren at Tower Eleven. Head for the spider nest. Don’t stop for coffee. The rest of you, with me.”
    Lazarus leads off to the admin center, and most of the troopers move out with him as ordered, covering corners and sectors like a seasoned TA infantry squad. Olsen points out the way for her with the barrel of his rifle, back toward the tower they just left. She obeys and follows Lepitre.
    They’re back inside the basement hallway when the overhead illumination switches from white to the dim red emergency light. The change is startling without helmet augmentation to compensate for it.
    “What the fuck,” Lepitre says ahead of her. On the floor directly above, there’s gunfire, the hoarse chattering of flechette rifles interspersed with the lower single booms of cartridge guns.
    Two more troopers appear around a bend in front of them. In the dim light, it takes Jackson a second or two to realize that the newcomers aren’t civvies in partial battle gear, but TA troopers in full armor, M-66 rifles at the ready.
    Everything happens at once.
    Lepitre up ahead shouts something at the TA troopers, but whatever he’s saying is drowned out by the booming warning coming from the troopers’ suit amplifiers.
    “DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET ON THE GROUND!