Part 20: The Lamps Are Going Out

Guangdong Olympic Stadium

Guangzhou, Guangdong Province

April 1st, 2016

"Hello? Hi, Chloe... No, I'm doing fieldwork right now. We were training some officer candidates for the client, but the enemy attacked and it's not really training anymore. What about you? ...Really? That was fast... Uh, tell 'em we can't take any orders until we have more live combat data from Dear John and Hi There... By the end of today, probably. I'll call you again when the bullets stop flying – 'bye for now." Bip!

"Uncle Roland is truly fearless," Sauer muttered, adjusting her machine gun's sling as the one-eyed man tucked away his satphone and turned to face the thirty terrified trainees huddled along the concrete wall behind him. "But I guess that's good for us."

"I guess," Richardson murmured. She stole a glance to the side, reassuring herself that Harrington was close by. This time we absolutely can't afford to be separated.

"Okay, listen up!" Schuhart whipped out another map from his seemingly bottomless pocketful. "We're going to cross the road and work our way up the next street, providing cover for the Spugs until they can get a clear line of fire on that enemy post. Keep your eyes open for artillery spotters, sappers and anti-tank crews." One of the women he was addressing started to raise a hand, but Schuhart cut her off. "Yes, that rifle is older than you are. No, you are not guaranteed to come back alive. Yes, I am going in ahead of you... Any other questions?"

If Richardson were to put her back against the wall, she would be facing the newest innovation in their diverse arsenal: the Spug prototypes. The machines' basic shape was identical to that of the Arume hovercrafts Richardson and her sisters had faced in Hong Kong, but the violet highlights were obscured by blotches of drab green and brown. Instead of gaping energy projectors, these vehicles sported the jutting barrels of heavy forime cannon. Theirs was a reassuring presence for the gosta.

"Remember, ladies – a good leader leads from the front!" Schuhart picked up his rifle and stuffed a grenade into the underbarrel launcher. "SCOOPS!"

Lion Rock Tunnel – South Entrance

New Kowloon, Hong Kong SAR

March 18th – Two Weeks Earlier

"You can't keep doing this," Kang sighed, even as she put her arms around the grief-stricken Arume. "You understand, don't you?"

"I know," Renaril sniffled, turning her face to the side and resting her cheek against the soft swell in the forime's shirt. "I know, but... why does it turn out badly no matter what I do?"

"It's not all your fault," the colonel replied carefully, trying to balance truth with comfort. "The circumstances were beyond your control."

"Nnn..." The alien girl breathed deeply, the scent of her companion calming her. "Colonel?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you so nice to me?"

"Nice?" Kang blinked. "Is this unusual in your culture?"

"No, but..." Renaril shivered, a fresh deluge of tears spilling down her cheeks. "No one... Not even my mother..."

While Kang was yet to become properly acquainted with Senior Counselor Daebaril, her impression so far was one of a highly demanding yet aloof parent. If the impression was correct, it went a long way to explain Renaril's problems. "What about your, er... Your other mother?"

"Never around," the Arume mumbled. "Haven't seen her in months... She's always busy, working on martian terraforming in our home layer."

"I see." Naive, starved for affection, eager to please – it was a pattern Kang had encountered again and again in the old days, yet somehow it'd taken her this long to recognize it in her opposite. She'd definitely been away from the field for too long. "Are you feeling any better?"

Renaril nodded. "Could we... stay here a little longer?"

"If you wish."

Azanael, in the meantime, was doing her utmost to stay out of trouble. Staying out of trouble, however, left her sitting on a landing strut of her shuttlecraft, enduring a battle against boredom in the hot mid-morning shade. Why was she even here? Not to whisk the group commander away in case of emergency, she figured – the forime were too well armed to pull that off. Maybe someone wanted to keep her out of danger, or simply out of the way. Was it Kataphel and her mysterious comrades?

"G'day!"

The pilot jumped up reflexively. "Geh..!"

"Sorry, mate." Phil Darwin offered an apologetic shrug. "Yer all roight?"

"Fine," Azanael said quickly. "I'm fine."

"Yah don't look foine," the Australian countered. "Sittin' 'ere with nothin' to do." He sat on the pavement in front of her.

How can I be fine with you sneaking up on me? Azanael thought resentfully. "It must be nice, having such a relaxed outlook."

"Relaxed?" said Phil. "That's relative."

"Relative..?"

"Roight. Yah seen much battle?"

The Arume wasn't sure where he was going with this, but she played along. "Not in a long time."

"Okay – yer mates 'ave been gobbin' on about yesterday, how it was a real battle an' such. Now mebbe that wos a real battle fer them, but fer me an' me brother? Call me arsey if yah loike, but that wos nothin'."

"So... what would you consider to be a real battle?"

"Well, lessee... How 'bout the toime Roland lost his blinker, that wos a nasty biff... Or way back, when we were keepin' the peace in Liberia under ol' Dingo Breath..."

"Dingo... Breath?"

"Our secret weapon. Smashin' fellow, shame about his teeth."

"Oh." Azanael cautiously sat down. "Mister Darwin, there's something I have to ask."

"Ask away."

"You're one of the forime who were betrayed by Kataphel and her crew when they first came to this layer, aren't you?"

Tap-clank-tap-clank-tap-clank...

Renaril shifted uneasily in Kang's embrace, but kept her eyes closed. "Schuhart's here, isn't he?"

"Yes," the colonel replied, watching the heavy figure limping towards them. "He looks as if he has something to tell us."

"I don't want to see him right now."

"I don't think it can be helped."

Schuhart was going for the modern warrior look today, trading the steel helmet for a baseball cap, sunglasses and a radio headset. He had also swapped his Thompson and the G3 he'd been carrying last night for a Kalashnikov with an underfolding stock and a distinctly Chinese spike bayonet. "A small bit of good luck," he announced. "Your old safe house survived the fighting."

Emphasis on small, in Kang's opinion. "What else?" she prompted, finding it unlikely that the man walked all the way out here just to deliver that news.

"We're still waiting to see which side the elusive General Lin's bread is buttered on, and..." The arms dealer trailed off. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No." Kang tried to separate herself from Renaril gently, but it took some coaxing to make the Arume let go. "Go on."

"Right... The local Party chief is still missing, but so far Lin is the only one apart from Jiang in Shanxi to overtly mobilize. Like I said, no indication of his alignment. The Shi Lang and its escorts are heading for Hainan, presumably to join up with the PLAN base forces. Fighting in Beijing has died down and local authorities are trying to bring the northeastern provinces under control. In short, the situation's what it has been for the last ten hours – nobody wants to make their move first."

"But that isn't what you came for, is it? You would have just called me."

"Yeah," said Schuhart. "We put together an educational demonstration for the group commander," he explained, nodding towards Renaril. "I came to pick you two up."

"Demonstration?" Renaril echoed suspiciously.

"Don't worry," the man assured her, "this one's free."

Kang also felt wary regarding the proposal. "Demonstration about what?" she demanded.

"Things anyone trying to fight a land war in Asia should know." Schuhart shrugged. "Normally I'd just give her the relevant dossier but our library is, well..."

"Closed," the colonel supplied dryly.

"Closed pending extensive renovation," Schuhart agreed. "So what do you say? It'll only take ten, fifteen minutes at most."

"All right," Renaril sighed. "Where is it?"

"Back in town." The one-eyed man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "My truck's at the bottom of the exit ramp. You go ahead – I need a word with the good colonel."

It was with obvious reluctance that Renaril left them, throwing a glance laden with revulsion at Schuhart along the way. "She doesn't like you at all," Kang remarked quietly, watching that white ponytail swish as it sank out of view.

"You didn't like me at all either, once upon a time." Schuhart reached behind his back momentarily, producing a Ruger revolver in a nylon belt rig. "I brought this for you," he went on. "Memento of our finest hour and all that."

"It's not mine."

"I didn't see anyone else racing to claim it." The man held the holster out so that Kang could put it on. "And one gun is never enough – that was an early lesson for me."

The Chinese officer passed the belt around her waist and buckled it. Unlike her friend, if she could still call him one, she didn't feel comfortable reminiscing. "How is your arm?"

"The medics said it'll be fine as long as I don't do anything stupid."

There's a lost cause. "Where's your cousin?"

"Keeping a low profile." Schuhart cocked his head. "You're not angling for a rematch, are you?"

"No. Is she?"

"Well... She did say something about putting off Round Two until both parties are free of distractions." The munitions marketer scratched his ear. "I guess that means she wants a fight where you aren't enraged and she, um..."

"Won't want to celebrate her victory by violating me?" Kang finished acerbically.

Schuhart winced. "Pretty much," he conceded. "But enough about us. I haven't seen much of you all day – are you all right?"

"Yes."

"I hope so. What's your take on Renaril now?"

"She has a competent theoretical understanding of her role," Kang sighed, "but her lack of self-esteem and her weak emotional discipline constantly overwhelm her."

Schuhart nodded. "Overwhelmed is right. She was clinging to you."

"Indeed." The colonel frowned. "How, precisely, do you intend to educate her?"

"I'm not going to assail the young lady with profanity-laden tirades, make her do pushups or tell her to dig a trench from the fence to lunchtime, if that's what you mean." Schuhart turned around and made tracks for the east exit ramp, motioning for Kang to follow. "But if the distressed damsel can't shape up, you're going to lose more than Hong Kong."

"I know."

"We've been very lucky as it is. If they'd attacked Macau, Shenzhen or Guangzhou..."

Kang couldn't deny the logic of the assessment. High as the casualties were, Hong Kong's population a week ago had been a mere fraction of what it was before Second Impact. "There would have been no second chance."

Renaril was pacing impatiently when they reached Schuhart's truck – the same sky-blue pickup he'd driven before, albeit rather the worse for battle damage. "Don't look at me like that," he admonished when she seemed poised to complain. "I drove it all the way here, didn't I?"

"Yeah," said Phil without reservation. "'Course, we called her 'Kate' back then. They all had fake names – Kate, Nell, Eda, Isabel..."

"Isabel... Isobael? Captain Isobael was there?"

"Nah, not her. Isabel was Isanil, the one with 'air loike this."

Azanael understood from his gesture that he meant the commander whom she had seen aboard Magnanimous Hyacinth when the name of Schuhart mysteriously came up, and seen again leading the Yuen Long rescue attempt. "And Edamamel was there as well? Which one was she?"

"She wasn't with 'em yesterday. They must'a known she'd cause trouble."

"How so?"

"Edamamel can't keep 'er hands to herself."

So Azanael had inferred from the scant data available. "I want to know about what happened," she pressed. "How were you betrayed?"

"Yer better off not knowin' about it," Phil replied, turning serious for the first time. "Too dangerous."

"But – "

"He's right," a third voice cut in. "You're not cut out for this kind of skulduggery."

The pilot was rudely startled when the towering woman called Keiko dropped off the shuttle's hull, landing in a crouch on the ground beside her. "Wh – where did you come from?" Azanael gasped.

"I was up there for quite a while," the giantess answered casually. "I was starting to wonder if you'd ever notice."

"But the sensors... How did you – ?"

Keiko winked. "Trade secret... You done with work already, Phil?"

"Finished early. Somethin' else yah want done?"

"Yeah... The kids need to keep up with their training, but I'm feeling headache-prone today. Think you could supervise them for a while?"

"The little shelias? Piece of piss." Phil stood up. "Noice talkin' to yah again, Azzy. Don't let KK cop a feel, now."

Keiko chuckled as the Australian walked away. "Funny guys, those brothers. Must have given their officers conniptions while they were in uniform."

Fifteen years of life among forime had not yet immunized Azanael against the feeling of intimidation she got on the rare occasions when she encountered a woman taller than herself. Said feeling only compounded her embarrassment at being caught asking impertinent questions. "Uh..."

"You're safe," Keiko announced coolly. "From me, at least. Kataphel already told you not to go digging."

"How..." The Arume left the question unfinished, too frightened by the implication in Keiko's warning.

"Well, I suppose you deserve something for your persistence. Want to know the real reason why Edamamel has been so hard to find?"

"I'll take what I can get," Azanael sighed, dreading what was to come even as she spoke.

"It's like this," the giantess explained. "My cousin used to have a partner – cute, courageous, a great fighter without being unfeminine. Together they were unstoppable."

"And..?"

"Edamamel raped her," Keiko concluded bluntly, "and Roland couldn't do anything about it."

Ouch. Azanael swallowed. "I... I didn't expect that..."

"And you were happier that way." The forime shook her head. "I'll say this one more time: drop it. You have no idea how much trouble you'll bring, and not just on yourself." Leaning forward, she took the pilot by the wrists and pulled her upright. "Besides, we have something that's far more suitable for you."

Azanael jerked her arms back defensively. "What is it?"

Keiko lifted a finger and pointed to the west, from whence the faint drone of an approaching helicopter could be heard. "That."

"Being a gunslinger in real life is hard work," Schuhart asserted, steering the pickup between uncleared piles of rubble and disabled vehicles. "No blanks, no squibs, no wires... and no stunt doubles."

Under other circumstances, Renaril would have been a very happy Arume. Due to a convenient shortage of seating space, she rode on Kang's lap and was made acutely aware of it every time the truck hit a bump. She watched the scenery sweeping by as Schuhart turned onto a less cluttered street, passing a marching line of disarmed collaborator troops and Arume ground personnel. They were escorted by members of Schuhart's mercenary subsidiary, the Sholay Defence Company. As the vehicle progressed, however, it came to an individual who stood out: a fair man with a capital H – or maybe it was a Cyrillic N – on his forehead.

Schuhart braked, then leaned out the window and whistled: Whui-wu..!

The man promptly whistled back. Whui-wu-wi-WHEET-WHEET-whuu!

They did the next bit together. Whui-wu... Whui-wu-wi-WHUIT-WHUIT-whuu!

Then a man further up the line joined in. Whui-wu... Whui-wu-wi-wiuu... Whu-wi-wu-whuit – whu-whuit – whui-wuu! Within a few more seconds people all along the parade were contributing to the tune, and Schuhart gave the tattooed man a thumbs-up before driving onward.

Renaril just stared at him. "That's a very old tradition," he said offhandedly. "Your friend with the green hair probably knows it."

"Meh." Renaril turned her attention to the left side of the street. The driver made a right turn and then a left, and suddenly they were riding through the middle of a parking lot liberally strewn with vehicles. Most of them were Arume hovercrafts, their conditions ranging from pristine to almost completely destroyed. One was operational, moving back and forth in short spurts while workmen in hard hats guided the pilot with hand signals. Another had been jacked up and stripped down to a bare hull, its components neatly arranged on the ground for men with clipboards and measuring tapes to mull over. "How much will those sell for?" the group commander asked glumly.

"They're not for sale," said Schuhart. "We're keeping them for R and D." He pointed to a hovercraft which was intact except for its precisely excised bombard, hanging from a crane parked in front of it. "Our German branch has been working on a project to convert obsolete chassis into inexpensive tank destroyers. The gearheads are looking into adapting it to this platform."

Renaril was relieved, both because proliferation of Arume technology seemed less of an immediate problem and because she actually understood the man's tech-talk for once. "What would this, er, upgrade be called, and what would it cost?"

"If I leave it to the Germans, it'll be the ten-point-five centimeter Panzerkanone L-Seven auf Geschutzwagen Ninety-Eight-A... So I think we'd better call it a self-propelled utility gun and leave it at that. I can't quote any prices at this stage, but it should be quite competitive."

"It sounds useful in theory," Kang stated, "but the Type Ninety-Eight's lack of armor will still be a liability."

"Maybe," Schuhart countered. "Good news is, most of the gross deployed weight is in the plasma cannon's magnets, capacitors and coolant tubes. Even with an L-Seven or D-Ten installed, there'll be some free capacity left for extra armor... It won't be able to take on a Leopard Two or a T-Eighty-Four, but it should stand a good chance against the older models."

"I hope so."

So did Renaril. She didn't know much about armored warfare, but she understood that if General Lin chose to attack, her forces would need everything they could get as quickly as they could get it. She also knew her own superiors couldn't be relied upon to be forthcoming with logistical help. "How soon can you have some ready?"

"Best case scenario is two or three working prototypes in under ten days. After that we'll need to bring in more materials."

"So will we," said Kang thoughtfully. "I've heard that Novaya Tula had an Antonov heavy cargo lifter for their Siberian operations. Did you acquire it?"

"Yeah." Schuhart braked as they came to a crossroads, letting a tank with a pair of collaborator APCs in tow pass ahead. "We'd be using it already, but the nearest runway that can handle such a large plane is the new strip at North Guangzhou International. I don't think that pesky general would let us fly stuff into there with no questions asked."

"Probably not." Kang's arms, encircling Renaril's waist as a precaution against sudden stops, tightened unconsciously and pulled the Arume back against the larger woman. If the colonel was aware of it, or of her passenger's reaction, she made no comment.

Schuhart waited for the street to clear, then shifted gears. "Ob's stuuurmt oooder schniet, ob die Sooon-ne uns laaacht... Der Taaag gluuu-hend Heiss, o-der eis-kalt die Naaacht... Bestaubt sind die – " Beep-beep-beep-beep! ...Bip! "Hello? ...Dammit, Nigel, stop calling me at work! Camilla will recover and I will front the medical costs... And don't even start on that. Now that Majestic Twelve is running the show, all you have to do is sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight... No, that's not Sun Zi. Sun Zi said that if you get to the mountain first, you should occupy it and let the enemy come to you... I'm sure the late chairman would be heartbroken, but I'm not. Now if you don't mind, I've got to be somewhere else." Bip!

The helicopter was big – comparable to the hulking Mi-26 Azanael had flown against in simulation half a lifetime ago – yet surprisingly agile. Its fat gray hull wore no national markings, only cryptic strings of letters and numbers, yet it was unmistakably designed for war, with a four-barreled gun in a chin turret and stubby wings carrying clustered rocket pods. The machine descended under a stacked pair of rotors and touched down in the space next to the Arume shuttle. Its arrival was greeted by a swarm of forime equipped with handcarts, a forklift and a motorcycle half-track.

"Not bad, eh?" Keiko grinned, hair blowing in the rotor wash. "It's the latest model. Goes into serial production next week."

Azanael had to shield her eyes with a raised hand. "It's a Kamov?"

"Joint venture with Mil Moscow. They call it the Ka-Seventy-Seven. NATO calls it the 'Hack'... I flew it myself last month – nice ride."

"It looks... versatile," the alien hedged, watching a ramp extend from the rear of the chopper.

"Damn right... The Russians have been combat testing prototypes in the Caucasus for six years. It can take a beating and give one right back. Want a closer look?"

"Me?" Wouldn't they want to keep Arume away from sensitive technology? "Is that all right?"

"Sure. It's primitive tech for you anyway, ain't it?"

"Well..."

"C'mon." Keiko grabbed Azanael's hand and pulled her forward. "Your kind will see plenty more of it either way."

"...That dependence should ease up once you've got access to some domestic factories. If you don't like the XM-Eighteen and don't want to stick with the QBZ-Ninety-Five, try KBP – they're licensing production rights for some of German Korobov's designs. Rheinmetall's price for the MG-Three license is pretty low too."

"Noted," said Kang. "Is this the place?"

"Yeah, we're here." Schuhart drove across the empty lot and pulled in beside the three-axle truck parked by the cement perimeter wall, around which a group of his employees were standing. "Sorry for the wait, guys. Got stuck in traffic."

The men laughed at his excuse. One of them asked something in what Renaril assumed was Russian, though she understood none of it.

Schuhart answered in the same as he swung his door open and reached for his leg brace, only to be promptly distracted by the satellite phone. "Yeah? ...Oh, hello. Yes, that's fine... One moment." He passed the device to his Chinese passenger. "It's Eripol. Says she has a Party official on the line who wants to talk to you."

The colonel took the phone in one hand and opened her door with the other, encouraging Renaril to vacate her lap by tilting her hips. The group commander grudgingly slid into the middle of the seat as Kang stepped outside, speaking in terse, rapid bursts of Chinese. It reminded Renaril of their first encounter in the elevator. Turning around, she saw the men outside setting up a pair of folding chairs and looked to Schuhart for clues of what to expect.

He merely gestured at her chest. "Might want to cover that."

Renaril looked down, realizing the white material of her bodysuit perfectly highlighted her erect nipples. "Wah..!"

"Enjoyed the ride, didn't you?" The one-eyed man went back to fitting his brace. "I guess it's only natural."

The Arume glared at him resentfully as she crossed her arms over her breasts, but her expression softened when she remembered his response to her plea for help. "...Who was she?"

"Hm?"

"The woman you loved. What was she like?"

"What's it to you?" Schuhart growled. "You didn't know her."

"But... you said she died because of us..."

"She's not dead." The man's voice went bitter. "Much worse than that."

"I don't understand."

"You probably wouldn't even if I told you everything... There's one thing I will tell you, though." Schuhart drew the pistol which he carried under his right arm, a long-barreled, slab-sided thing in chrome with a trigger and grip of red and blue plastic respectively. It carried a small electronic sight at the rear end. "This is a Strayer-Tripp Twenty-Eleven, the only one like it. I pried it from the warm, dead hands of the most evil man I've ever known." The handgun vanished. "But not before he clipped my finger and messed up my leg... He's the reason you and I are standing here. He started all of this."

"All..?"

"All." Schuhart grabbed his rifle off the dashboard and exited the truck.

Renaril followed, inwardly wondering why all the Russians had large knives clipped to their own weapons' muzzles. Kang joined the assembly after several more seconds. "That was Weisheng Ying," she said, returning the satphone.

"The Hainan provincial committee secretary, huh? What'd she say?"

"She dislikes me, but she dislikes Lin Qinsong even more. She might consider joining forces with us, provided we make certain assurances."

Renaril looked to Schuhart. "Do you know this person?"

The man shrugged. "Never met her, but she made her reputation as a corruption-buster... She's straight, if that's what you wanted to know." He nodded towards the chairs. "Let's get this gig started. Pick a seat, any seat."

Renaril picked the chair on the left and sat in it. Kang sat beside her, while Schuhart stood a few paces in front of them. The Russians opened the back of the second truck and two climbed inside. The rest formed a semicircle around it, blades pointing inward. There was a scraping noise from inside, and then the pair reappeared flanking a Chinese man. His arms were tied behind his back, with an additional loop around his knees. He seemed to be in a daze, offering no resistance as he was lowered to the ground, marched over to Schuhart and pushed down into a kneeling position facing the wall.

"Welcome to Uncle Roland's Tough Shit School of Commander Education." As he spoke, Renaril glanced at Kang and saw that her face had hardened, her hands clenching into taut fists. "Today's lesson – " Rachak! " – is Chinese justice."

There was a thunderclap. The kneeling man jerked once, bits of red matter splattering on the wall and the pavement around him. Everything above the level of his eyes was suddenly gone. Renaril screamed.

"Next," said Schuhart flatly. The Russians dragged the body to the side, then went back to the truck. "Last year, the People's Republic of China executed upwards of three thousand people – more than any other country. Capital offenses included killing pandas, petty drug trafficking and corporate fraud."

"W-what are you talking about!?" the dismayed Arume cried. "Stop this!"

Schuhart ignored her. "While lethal injection was introduced nearly twenty years ago, the prevalent method remains as you see here." A second man, equally bound, was dragged up as Schuhart finished speaking. He fired one round into the back of the man's head, his face unreadable. "Next."

"Stop!" Renaril rose from her seat, only for Kang to seize her by the wrist. "Let... let me go!"

The colonel pulled the Arume down onto her lap – not the arousing embrace Renaril had enjoyed before, but a suffocating straitjacket. "Don't look away," Kang whispered, pinning Renaril's arms to her sides. "Don't dare close your eyes."

"Despite international criticism, the Chinese judicial system has long been a marvel of efficiency... especially when dealing with political undesirables and unruly ethnic minorities." Pokh! "Next."

Renaril squirmed, unable to break free. "Why!?" she shouted. "Why are you doing this!?"

"These men are guilty of desertion, rape and murder. Their ultimate treatment by PRC authorities would have been no different." The arms dealer turned his back on his audience as the fourth prisoner was placed before him. "You told me to deal with them." An ejected casing twirled through the air. "Next."

Renaril was crying by the time the sixth man was brought out. Kang sat as if made of stone until all ten of the condemned had met their fate, then slowly relaxed her grip. Even the Russians were looking unsettled by then, a couple of them such that they kept shooting looks of pity at the women.

Schuhart, contrarily, would have none of that. He merely engaged the rifle's safety and put an arm through the sling. "That concludes today's lesson," said he. "Class dismissed."

"Urk..!" Renaril bolted, but didn't get far before the panicked motion pushed her over the edge. Her tormentor shook his head as she collapsed onto her hands and knees, the acidic remains of her breakfast pooling on the tarmac.

"You hooked up with a lady," he sang sardonically as he lent a hand loading the corpses back into the truck. "A normal thing to do... How were you to kno-o-ow... she was with the Party too?"

"Barbarians," the Arume moaned.

"You staked a claim in China... but you didn't want the risk! Find comrades, guns and money... or get right outta this!"

The slender woman raised her tear-streaked face. "Murderous, bloodthirsty..!"

"Yeah?" Schuhart's lip curled. "A slug through the head while doped witless isn't a bad way to go, all else considered. It's a hell of a lot better than some things the Chinese used to do." He advanced until he was standing over her. "And isn't this exactly the fate your charming mother decreed for our gosta last night? Or did that marvelous turkey shoot just happen because your cheque bounced?"

"That – it's not the same!"

"No?" There was a derisive snort. "You rear-echelon motherfuckers have it easy. You give the order and someone else takes care of the messy part – out of sight, out of mind. You've never had to do it yourself. You can't do it yourself... That's why you need nasty people like me, and don't you ever forget it."

Kang mercifully interceded, gently raising Renaril upright and producing a handkerchief. "Schuhart," she intoned quietly, "you've gone too far."

"May I never have cause to go this far again," the scarred man replied solemnly.

Renaril subsided into irregular sniffling as she wiped away the traces of vomit around her mouth. "Is this your revenge?" she asked. "Are you satisfied?"

"Revenge is a futile goal." Schuhart walked over to the blue pickup and placed the AK inside. "And punishment is useless if it doesn't motivate improvement." His gaze fixed on Kang and lingered there for a long moment. "First they came for the nationalists, and you wouldn't have said anything because you don't like nationalists... Then they came for the intellectuals, and you wouldn't have said anything because you don't like intellectuals... Then they came for the moderates, and you wouldn't have said anything because you don't like moderates." He took off his sunglasses and flicked them through the truck's open window. His eye briefly appeared a peculiarly opaque shade of azure as it caught the sunlight. "If they'd come for you, would anyone have liked you enough to say something?"

"I understand," the colonel sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Consider yourself forgiven... Group Commander?"

"I..." Renaril swallowed. "I've made some bad choices here, and... and I hope that in the future we can cooperate without misunderstanding."

"Right," said Schuhart, and suddenly he seemed as cheerful as could be. "Now that we've put this sordid mess behind us, what say we go hammer out some grand plans before lunch break?"

"I don't think I want any lunch," the Arume groaned under her breath as she followed the others to the truck. They got underway with blessed alacrity, and soon Renaril was pacified by the soothing combination of a tender companion and a cool breeze. The driver, for his part, wasn't generous enough to stop singing.

"When the fight – is done... and the blood dries dark... and the pyres – are the only – lights you see... Please don't – be afraid... No, please don't – shed one tear... Just as long – as she stands – stands by thee..."

The Second Layer War began in China, and many of its battles would be fought over the heritage of that ancient nation. The next key event, however, was to take place on an overpopulated island archipelago to the northeast – the land of the rising sun.