Free Cassandra Kresnov 5: Operation Shield by Joel Shepherd Page B

arriving in system. Their booster hack on Home Guard transmissions had let them listen to various guardies talking about how they'd fight League or Federation, make them wish they'd never come here. Laughable. Svetlana was ten, but she knew stupid when she heard it. Everyone here liked to talk—Home Guard, Companies, gang bosses. But in the end, if the other guy had a bigger gun, talk meant nothing. She'd seen big talkers get blown away like it was nothing, had known loudmouth street hustlers who Danya had said, he'd said , like he could see a vision or something, that guy won't last. Too much talking, he'll rub someone the wrong way and that'll be that. And sure enough, another month, another year, talk would reach them of the hustler in question, dead in some alley. No one asked questions, no one needed to.
    Sometimes Svetlana wanted to talk with the loudest of them. If she had the biggest gun, she could.
    She took the pistol from her backpack. Danya hadn't taken it, he'd said it wouldn't do him any good, he'd be surrounded by guys with guns who knew how to use them. Besides, the GI had given it to Svetlana, and the other stuff. The pistol was cold, black and heavy in her hands. Not very advanced as these things went, but simple powder cartridges were good for Droze, nothing jammed in the dust, and they didn't need to be recharged. She checked the magazine for the hundredth time, then smacked it back in firmly. And held it up, pointing at a wall, like she'd seen Sandy hold hers, briefly. Sandy hadn't liked handling guns around children. Sandy was from a place where children were always safe.
    It didn't interest Svetlana very much. Safe was something far outside her experience. Guns had always been too dangerous before, in case someone dobbed them in. Now, there was no choice, and Svetlana kind of liked that. A line had been crossed by having this cold, heavy thing in her hands. Now, the fear was not entirely on her side of the divide. With this, she could share it around.
    She peered out the window again. Between slats, she could see the usual men milling around the front of Janu's place, talking, leaning on crates, lighting a cigarette. No sign of Danya. He'd said he'd send her a signal on the earbuds if everything was okay. He hadn't. Well, she wouldn't panic. She didn't trust the earbuds as much as she trusted Danya anyway. Maybe Janu had jamming.
    But she shouldn't stay here. If something had gone wrong, they'd know that where there was Danya, there would be Svetlana. A vacant room overlooking Janu's corner would be obvious once they thought about it. Lucky it wasn't the only one.
    She slipped out the door, into a stripped-bare corridor, lightless save for the pale sun through the window behind. Moving silently, she heard footsteps coming up the stairwell. Several people, she thought, heart thumping as she moved quickly to another doorway—she'd scoped it before, another empty room, this one without a view. Through the door and leaving it open a slit, she crouched in darkness, peering through the gap. Back down the hallway, men appeared. Big coats, pistols, and a short shotgun. AR glasses, probably uplinks too.
    They moved fast, indicating with professional intent, closing on the doorway Svetlana had just left. A fast kick, and they went through it fast. Svetlana left equally fast, before they could come out again and search surrounding rooms. She went quickly along the hall, around a corner, then down the next stairwell toward a rear exit. But there might be a guard on that exit now, better she took a side room and waited.
    Her heart was thumping, but not from personal fear—she'd dodged tough guys before, she was good at dodging, and sneaking, and had the knack of knowing where to be when people weren't looking. Danya. If Danya was in trouble, she'd thought, men would come at her to that room…and here they were. Janu had Danya and had tried to get her too.
    Panic threatened as she skipped down stairs in the dark,