Free REHO: A Science Fiction Thriller (The Hegemon Wars) by D. L. Denham Page A

finger this time.” Thursday laughed, the cigarette bobbing on his lower lip.
    “Won’t we look suspicious walking through town with this?” Reho asked, looking at Sola.
    “Who is going to notice us?”
    She was right. No one was out. The streets were empty.
    “Do we even know for sure that this will go down tonight?” Thursday asked, stubbing out his cigarette.
    “Our buyer wants these things bad enough to get involved in the politics here. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him do this. I’d say he wants them pretty damn bad ,” Ends replied.
    Reho took the rear with Thursday as they entered the town. The streets were vacant except for parked automobiles. The copper gaslights flickered a dull yellow light onto the sidewalks and storefronts, but they did little in the way of illumination. Their steam-mule’s front lights emitted a bright yellow beam that was only good for a few feet.
    Sola tapped on Gibson’s shoulder. “How far are we from the train?”
    “Probably ten minutes, at this rate,” Gibson replied. Then he gestured toward a light in the distance, shining down onto the town farther ahead. “But it’ll be twice that in a minute.”
    A zeppelin the size of their boat appeared—half in the ash, half above it—and dozens of soldiers crawled through its miniature windows and onto the ground like ants scurrying home to the queen. The zeppelin then disappeared above the ash clouds.
    Thursday grinned as he lifted his rifle. “Here we go! ”
    “ We’ll only interfere if we have to,” Ends said. “Let’s push to the steamer .” The steam-mule’s top speed was five miles per hour. Reho checked his AIM. It had already mapped the town’s grid. The iron and steam outlined a town that connected the west-side docks with the east-side train station. The tracks waited seven blocks ahead.
    ***
    A mixture of blasts and sounds from OldWorld and pulse rifles filled the air. The bullets ricocheted and pinged through the ashy darkness. When a pulse hit one of the buildings, it didn’t ping like the OldWorld bullets did. Instead, it hit with a thud as energy dispersed through the metal causing it to wobble. It would take several direct shots for a pulse blast to burn through these buildings. Those inside would be safe from most of the violence. Doors were closed, windows bolted.
    Reho was sure they were the only ones on the streets. The Monet’s were targeting the Industrialist, their political rivals, elsewhere in the town. Yet, there was something else. It pounded the ground again, its impact strong enough to vibrate the metal on nearby buildings.
    Sola pointed ahead. “What is that?” The source of the pounding was partially in sight four blocks from the train station.
    Reho knew what it was before Thursday had a chance to give it a name.
    “It’s an armored gunner,” Reho replied. “Maybe twenty-five feet high.”
    “That’s a Fighter! Those things are bad business,” Thursday said. “It has guns and clamps powered by an engine on its back and six-inch-thick steel.”
    “No time to admire. I just hope that thing—” Ends’ words were cut short by a burst of rapid fire from somewhere in the distance. The OldWorld bullets ripped through the street near them. Whatever it was, it hadn’t aimed for them. The crew could hear screams as the next round of fire hit its target. Although the fighting was still to the north, the Fighter was tall enough to take advantage of its distance. It was only a matter of time before the Fighter would spot them.
    “ Can we go around?” Sola asked.
    “No way,” Gibson replied. “It’ll add another ten minutes to go different route.”
    Ends lifted his weapon and slid the pulse rifle’s charger to maximum power. “ Gibson is right. ”
    Ends gave directions to Thursday and Sola. They were responsible for guarding the rear of the steam wagon. He commanded Gibson to take the controls. He didn’t say anything to Reho. Ends led them, taking the front. They