Attack of the Bounty Hunters Ch. 07

[This is not a "sex story". It is a story about a society where people have superfast reflexes... and guns.]

Chapter 7: Exploding Tempers

Major Nancy Kalikov of the Slurian Special Tasks Bureau stepped out of the shadows. The Slurians were the sworn enemy of the League, which Croft worked for, and Special Tasks was one of their elite espionage bureaus. Their specialty was high tech theft... and assassination.

Croft looked at the determined woman as she glared at him, her gun held rigidly in her right hand, pointing straight at him.

"Do I get to make a statement before you shoot me?" Croft said. He took a step forward. The blaster didn't waiver.

"Perhaps," said Kalikov. "What kind of statement?"

Croft took another step forward. "A request."

"That's far enough!" said the Major, raising her blaster slightly. Then, "What request?"

Despite the order to halt, Croft took another step forward, so that his face was only inches from hers. "A kiss," he said.

He hesitated for only a moment, judging her expression, and then reached out and kissed her on the lips. He pulled back, staring at her. Then he reached forward and kissed her again.

This time she moaned slightly. "Oh Clifford," as she lowered the blaster.

"I've missed you," Croft said softly.

"We don't have much time," said Kalikov.

"Then let's make the best use of it, shall we?" said Croft.

Later, Croft was lying in bed with his arm around Kalikov. Croft had met Kalikov on a mission some years ago to recover a piece of technology which was held by a crime lord named Bannerman. Kalikov was after the same piece of technology and was under orders to eliminate any competition. She tried, and failed, to kill Croft, and then he subsequently saved her life not once but twice against Kalikov's minions and somewhere along the way she had found herself falling in love with him. When she asked him why he had saved her, Croft had replied, "Because I'm a man, and I decided you were too cute to die."

But back in the present...

"What are you doing here, Clifford?" said Kalikov, looking him in the eye as she lay side by side with him.

"Isn't it obvious?" said Croft.

"There's some thought that you might be trying to forge an alliance with the Graftonites."

"Is this your thought, or your superiors?" said Croft.

She reached over and kissed him. "Come on Clifford, you can trust me."

He kissed her back. "Oh, of course. For the record, I'm not here to establish an alliance. The most obvious explanation is also the correct one. I'm here to stop Quandry."

Her eyes widened.

"You have an objection?" said Croft.

"You can't kill him, Clifford. He's one of their best gunfighters."

"Who said anything about killing him?" said Croft. "And in case you haven't noticed, I've been handling Grafton killers quite well lately."

"You spotted our lookouts," said Kalikov, making a face.

"Of course," said Croft. "Special Tasks doesn't make them like they used to."

"They are amateurs, NGB, not even attached to Special Tasks," said Kalikov. She abruptly got up and started to get dressed.

"You have to go?"

Kalikov nodded. "I must report."

Croft watched her closely as she dressed. "You know, you don't have to report. You could defect."

Kalikov struggled into her pants. Croft admired the way her large Slurian breasts jiggled as she set about her task. "You know that's not possible, Clifford."

"The reagent."

"The reagent."

Agents in Special Tasks were drugged with a slow acting poison to ensure their fidelity; unless they periodically received the antidote, they would die.

"We could try to synthesize an antidote," said Croft.

"Others have tried," said Kalikov bluntly. She put on her shirt and looked at Croft. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then she reached forward and gingerly kissed him.

"Take care of yourself, Clifford," she said.

In a moment, she was gone.

Yuri watched curiously as the Major finished buttoning her blouse as she sat down in the ground car. She glared at him.

"Do you have something to comment?"

"No, Major," he said.

"I have the information we need," said Kalikov. "If you wish, you may kill him now."

Yuri allowed himself to look surprised.

"At least you may try. I neither officially endorse or disapprove of such action," said Kalikov. "Unofficially, I will offer some advice, if you request it."

Yuri, gulping, nodded.

"Do not attempt to kill Croft at a close distance. I would mount two snipers on the roof of the building opposite the apartment where he is staying. When he comes out in the morning, they can kill him even before he sees it coming."

"Thank you, Major!"

"Do not thank me," she said. "Success or failure will be on your own head. Now arrange for someone to take me to the spaceport. I have to report back."

"I will report on Croft's death to you in the next hyperwave."

"Very good," she said, without any emotion.

********

The next morning, two Slurian NGB snipers perched on the top of a nearby building. They had their scopes trained on the door of Croft's apartment. There was no other exit.

"This should be easy," said one of them, named Victor.

"If it would be easy, the Croft pest would be dead long ago," said the other, named Tyusha.

"He will not even see it coming," said Victor.

********

The Clapper heard a buzzing sound in his apartment. He grinned at the comm unit. It continued buzzing. After a few more seconds of grinning blankly at it, he pressed a button on it. Croft's image appeared on the screen.

"Where have you been?" said Croft. "I've been calling you for a while."

"I've been here," the Clapper grinned.

"Never mind. Get over to my apartment."

"Huh?"

"Leave your apartment, and come to mine," said Croft. "Would you like me to draw a map?"

The Clapper clapped. "That would be great!"

"Just get over here," Croft sighed, terminating the connection.

The Clapper nodded and headed to the door of the apartment. He didn't wonder why Croft had called him over the comm unit when previously Croft usually came for him personally. He opened the door to the outside. Brilliant sunlight streamed in.

********

"There!" said Victor, seeing someone come outside the residence.

"That's not Croft," said Tyusha. "That's the mental deficient."

"Why does Croft bring it with him?"

"I do not know," said Tyusha. "Nor do I care."

They both watched the Clapper, grinning like a maniac, as he stumbled his way to Croft's apartment. When he got there he pressed the buzzer at the door.

"This is our chance!" said Victor. "Aim carefully!"

They watched through their scopes as the door opened. Their fingers tightened on the trigger as they scanned inside the open door.

But there was no one there.

After a pause, the Clapper stepped in. He stood there for a moment before looking puzzled, and then he closed the door behind him.

"What is going on?" said Tyusha.

"Patience," said Victor. "They will have to come out sooner or later."

Actually, it was sooner. After only a moment's pause the door opened again. Once again they took up firing position, waiting for the first sign of Croft.

"Wait until he is out in the open," said Victor. "We must get a clear shot."

But only the Clapper stepped out of the door.

"It is the deficient again!"

But the door remained open behind him.

"Croft will be coming any moment!" said Victor.

They were so focused on the door that they didn't at first notice what the Clapper was doing. He was looking up and around, squinting his eyes in the morning sunlight.

"What is the deficient doing?" said Victor.

Tyusha didn't have a chance to answer, because all of a sudden she felt an enormous tug and with a scream was pulled over the edge of the roof. Victor barely had time to look over and see her fall before he, too, felt an invisible force pull at him, jerking him over the edge of the rooftop.

********

"Is that the last of them?" came a voice from inside the apartment.

The Clapper grinned. "I think so."

"How reassuring," said Croft dryly, exiting the apartment.

"How did you know?" said the Clapper.

"What?" said Croft.

"I could barely see the peoples on the roof, and then only when you told me where to look," said the Clapper. "How did you know they were there?"

"A lucky guess," said Croft. "Come on."

They once again conferenced with the Chief over a secure holotransmission.

"So Tagan wasn't receptive to our arguments," said Croft.

"But why?" said the Chief.

"I think we can understand this better from the perspective of an appropriate economics model," said Tane. "According to the Hanlin model of monopolistic and oligopolistic actors, profit maximization is a senior priority of economic actors. Conflict can be seen as a way to surge the demand curve upwards, shifting both price and quantities-"

"He thinks he can get rich quick if there's a war," Croft translated.

"Ah, yes," said Tane. "I was getting to that."

"Didn't you try to tell him that a war could disrupt his business?" said the Chief.

"We tried," said Tane, "But he wasn't receptive,"

"Probably because he's a typical Hamline monopolistic actor," said Croft.

"Hanlin," said Tane, glaring at Croft.

"What about your meeting with the Olympics official?" said the Chief.

"He was sympathetic, but not willing to get involved in the body politic-"

"For fear someone would shoot his political body," said Croft.

"Has everyone been cowed into silence by Mo Quandry?" the Chief asked.

"Many of them have," said Croft. "But for most of them, they take a very narrow view of their self-interest. If it's not directly affecting their bottom line at that very moment, they're not interested."

"Hm..." said the Chief. She turned to look at something outside the range of the holographic imprinter.

"Chief?"

"Quandry has called a meeting with local diplomatic representatives next week to try to iron out differences," said the Chief.

"You mean, to present his demands," said Croft.

"Probably," said the Chief. She paused again, and then made a decision. "I want you to keep trying. Meet with more local elites-"

"MORE local elites?" said Croft. "I think we've met them all!"

"As well as a local psychologist," said the Chief.

"Respectfully, Chief, I'm feeling fine-"

"Not for you, Mr. Croft," said the Chief. "We need a better understanding of the Graftonite psyche so we can best learn how to deal with Quandry. Consult a local expert and see what insights you can glean."

Croft said, "Actually, Chief, before I start gleaning, I think there's a better use that my time can be put to."

"Really, Mr. Croft? And what would that be?" Her voice was as cold as a stone.

"Checking out a warehouse on the outskirts of Regular," said Croft. "I have a feeling that there might be something interesting to find there."

"What is the basis of that feeling?" the Chief asked.

"It's just a feeling," said Croft.

"Croft!"

"All right," said Croft. "I put several listening devices in Quandry's ranch. I was listening to excerpts last night and he mentioned something about receiving an important shipment yesterday."

"You conducted a covert operation without consulting me?" said the Chief.

"I also had dinner last night without consulting you, and extracted useful information from a Slurian agent without consulting you," said Croft. "Do you manage the affairs of the other seven Level One operatives this closely?"

The Chief restrained her rage to digest this latest news. "The Slurians? What are they doing here?"

"Watching me, mostly," said Croft. "They're also trying to find out what Quandry is up to."

"And how exactly did you find this out?"

"I, ah, interrogated one of their agents," said Croft.

The Chief glared at him. "What did you learn about this shipment?"

"Not much. They only referred to the fact that it was important," said Croft. "So rather than go in search of mental help, I'd like to check this out."

"You'll do both," the Chief decided.

"That's a very bold compromise," said Croft generously.

"I may not be impressed by your attitude, Mr. Croft, but you do get results," said the Chief. "But if you no longer get results, I will no longer feel the need to endure your attitude. Am I clear?"

"As clear as transparent steel," said Croft.

After the Chief signed off, Tane said, "Why do you purposefully and repeatedly antagonize her?"

"She's micromanaging me," said Croft. "And more importantly, she's also wrong."

"Wrong?"

"This business of talking to so-called elites is a waste of time," said Croft.

"It's a useful method of gathering information," said Tane.

"For a researcher, perhaps," said Croft. "But I'm an operative. That's a derivative of the word "operations". If I wanted to be a reference librarian, I'd work in the dictionary department at the Grand August Database."

Tane ignored the slight. "Are you going to this warehouse today?"

"No, tonight."

"Then you have time to meet some more elites."

"As long as no one accuses me of being an elitist," said Croft. "Whatever happened to the idea of talking to the common man?"

"We have encountered several of those," said Tane. "Most of them tried to kill you."

"The elite it is, then," said Croft.

********

"This is crazy," Croft said, as Burundi drove them to a suburb of Regular.

"Bigree Industries is the largest weapons manufacturer on Grafton," said Tane. "That certainly makes Bigree a powerbroker."

"I'm not denying that," said Croft. "But he's very likely to be sympathetic to Quandry. Arms dealers like wars. Quandry is trying to start a war. Why are we wasting our time here?"

"You never know," said Tane. "It is true, according to a rational economic actor model, you might think that Bigree would be a supporter of Quandry's efforts. But I took a chance and established holocontact with the company. Very quickly I found myself speaking to Mr. Bigree himself. And I have to say, I found him very sympathetic to my line of argument, that Quandry is a threat to all of Grafton."

"And why would he agree with that?" said Croft.

"That's what we have to find out," said Tane. "But perhaps he thinks he can get larger weapons contracts with the League than he can with Quandry. Maybe he knows that doing business with Quandry is bad for business."

"Did he say that?"

"No," said Tane. "But he was very friendly. I have a feeling we can pick up an ally here."

Burundi snorted.

"Hm," said Croft. "We'll see."

Bigree Industries was located in a series of huge warehouses housing all kinds of weapons and munitions which were constantly being trucked in and out. As one might expect, security was extremely heavy as they had to pass through three checkpoints manned by grim faced Graftonites who confirmed their identities. When they arrived, Croft, Tane, and the Clapper were eventually escorted to Bigree's office. Burundi waited for them in the groundcar.

Salmon Bigree was in some ways like Tendon Ribbers, of the Union of People Locators. He saw more money in a supporting role rather than direct combat. The market for weapons on Grafton were large but the population of Grafton was relatively small. Bigree quickly built up his company by building larger munitions and weapons for off planet export. Since there was no government to speak of on Graftonite, there were no pesky inspections or export limitations to be found on other planets. Bigree was free to sell to anyone he liked, even the Slurians or the Terrible Thinker or pirates, without the slightest hindrance.

But from a personal perspective, Croft's first impression was that Salmon Bigree was a friendly man with a strong handshake.

"Thank you for coming," said Bigree, giving a big smile to each of them.

Croft and his companions started to sit down.

"Oh, I wouldn't bother sitting down," said Bigree.

Croft froze. "What do you mean?"

"You won't be here long enough," said Bigree. He pressed a button on his desk and a gunman entered through a side door. "You've been on the move so frequently that it's been difficult to track you down. I appreciate you coming to us."

"You're on Quandry's side," said Croft.

"Or he's on my side, it's all a matter of perspective," said Bigree.

"May I ask why?"

"It's all those wonderful wars he's going to start," said Bigree, his eyes shining. "Once the war gets going, just think of all the arms contracts my company will get! We don't merely manufacture hand lasers, you know; we also produce the heavy stuff--shipboard weapons systems, missiles, the works. This conflict will be very, very profitable to us, and you're not going to be allowed to interfere."

Croft looked at the gunman who was standing alertly in the room. Suddenly, he noticed something odd; the gunman had no holster! He didn't even seem to have a gun in his hand.

Bigree noticed Croft's stare. "I see you're confused. Can it be that you've never seen a zipgun before?"

And then the gunman flexed his wrist and Croft saw, on the other side of the gunman's palm, a small box that was glued or attached to his hand.

"What is that?" said Croft.

"A zipgun," said Bigree. He turned to the gunman. "Perhaps you'd care to demonstrate."

The gunman nodded. He merely pointed with his hand, and a beam of light stabbed out, streaking a mere inch above Croft's right shoulder, leaving a small but smoking hole in the wall.

"I didn't say to shoot a hole in my wall," said Bigree, looking noticeably annoyed. "That will come out of your pay. Take this outside." He looked down, already absorbed in his own work again.

"If you're busy, perhaps we'll talk again another time," said Croft.

"I don't think we will meet again," said Bigree, smiling again. "Goodbye, Mr. Toft."

The gunman gestured, and Croft, Tane, and the Clapper walked single file out of the office.

"I told you we shouldn't have come," Croft hissed to Tane. "But nooooo, you said he could be an ally."

"So what are we going to do?" Tane whispered.

"Die, probably," said Croft.

The gunman marched them outside the building, and then said, "That's far enough."

Croft turned around to face the gunman. "Are you simply going to shoot me?"

"If you like, you're welcome to try and outdraw me," said the gunman, looking amused.

"Not very sporting, considering you don't have to reach for a gun," said Croft. And at that moment he pressed down hard with his right boot. An anesthetic needle shot out and buried itself in the gunman's lower leg.

The gunman's smile didn't waver a fraction of an inch. It was only a few seconds later when he didn't fall down that he realized something was wrong. Reaching down, the gunman casually pulled out the needle and pulled up his right trouser leg. It was encased in a layer of white plastic.

"That wasn't very sporting either," said the gunman, standing tall again. "Your mistake was not killing your last opponent so he couldn't live to tell what trick you used on him. Did you really think that would work twice?"

"Maybe not," said Croft. He wet his lips, thinking quickly. "But do you still intend to offer me a fair fight?"

"A fair fight?" said the gunman, still amused. "How can a fight with a sheep be fair?"

"I think the only reason you're so confident is that you have one of those cheat guns," said Croft.

"I'm sure I could outdraw you with a regular blaster," said the gunman.

"Why don't you go and get one?"

"You're not getting away that easy," said the gunman. "This is boring me. Draw!"

"Wait!" said Croft. "What if I could arrange a fair test, here and now?"

"Test?"

"You say you're a better gunman than I am, correct?"

"There's no doubt about it," said the gunman.

"Well, there's no doubt you can outdraw me with that thing," said Croft. "But how are you for accuracy?"

"Accuracy?"

"Sure," said Croft. "I mean, it's easy to shoot a person, a person is a big target, especially at this distance. But what about a smaller target?" Holding up a restraining hand, Croft very slowly moved inside his jacket and pulled something out.

An apple. Actually, an apple he had saved from the Olympics the other day when he had first considered this idea.

"What are you proposing?"

"I'll toss this apple into the air. We both wait until it reaches its maximum height. The first one of us who can shoot the apple after it reaches its maximum height is the better marksman."

"I know I'm the better marksman," said the gunman. "What do I have to gain from this?"

"If you're afraid, of course, I can't force you to do it," said Croft. "But if you simply kill me, you'll always know that you let an off-worlder, a sheep, make you back down from a challenge-"

"Throw the apple," said the gunman, his voice cold. "Go ahead! Then I have to kill you and go about my business."

"Whatever you say," said Croft. "Just remember, it doesn't count if you fire before it reaches its maximum height."

"Whatever," said the gunman. "Just do it."

With one hand Croft tossed the apple into the air with as much force as he could. With his other hand he simultaneously drew his blaster...

The gunman waited until it reached its maximum height and then casually aimed with his finger and shot the apple out of the air. He looked down again to make a caustic remark to Croft when suddenly he saw Croft's blaster discharge and he felt a very painful explosion in his chest.

Looking very shocked and surprised, the gunman, openmouthed, dropped to the ground wordlessly.

"The quicker they are, the stupider they are," said Croft.

"Especially if you don't fight fair," said Burundi, who walked up to them.

"You were watching the whole thing?" said Croft.

"I have nothing else to do," said Burundi.

"You wouldn't have helped out, would you?" said Croft.

"I don't interfere with fair fights," said Burundi.

"Even one with these," said Croft, pointing to the zip guns.

Burundi knelt down and examined it. "I've heard about these, but never seen one." He looked up at Croft. "I don't think they're very fair in duels; but then, I don't think what you did was very fair either."

Croft turned to Tane. "We've finally found a job for him; he can referee!"

That night there was extra security on a certain warehouse in the industrial district. Graftonite guards patrolled along an electrified fence; electric monitors and sensors ringed the perimeter.

Clifford Croft restrained a laugh as he observed this from the roof of the warehouse, inside the perimeter. These security measures would have deterred most ordinary people, even many agents. But for him? Hah! These defenses were so basic that it wasn't even worth describing his entry.

Croft opened a hatch on the roof and slid down onto a catwalk. He saw Graftonites roaming among large stacks of crates of all sizes. The mark of Bigree Industries was prominently stamped on all of them.

Taking out a small scanner, he cast it in front of the nearest boxes, and moved from one stack to another.

Weapons, weapons, and more weapons... There was enough here for a small army. But these were merely handguns. Quandry had talked about receiving a special shipment. What was so special to be found here?

Croft's attention was fixed on some very large crates, each two stories tall, that were sitting under a spotlight. Two Graftonites were roaming around it. He would have to time things precisely to get between the two without being seen by either.

Croft crept between them and got close to the crates. He looked down at his scanner briefly, while still looking about in all directions. What he saw made him frown. He crept along the side of the crate, careful to keep some distance of the Graftonite ahead of him. The other Graftonite behind him would be turning the corner and would see Croft in a few seconds....

A few seconds later, the Graftonite behind Croft turned the corner. He looked ahead of him and continued walking. A few steps took him to a crate with a large hole in it. The Graftonite passed by without even noticing.

Inside the crate, Croft waited until the footsteps receded and then quickly risked a bit of light from a handflash. What he saw made him gasp.

The crate was filled with large anti-ship missiles. Mo Quandry must have something bigger in mind than gunfighting.

But Croft recognized that these were surface to air missiles, primarily defensive in purpose. Did Quandry fear an attack? That didn't make sense. Quandry was the one doing the attacking.

Shutting down the light, Croft considered his options. Sabotage? He didn't have the right equipment.

But that shouldn't stop a truly capable infiltrator. Croft risked a brief flash of light again. He saw an inspection hatch for one of the primary warheads....

He narrowed the scope of his handflash to a tight beam and opened it up. He started manipulating wires... the activation mechanism was there, the timing mechanism there.... Good....

Several minutes later Croft worked his way out of the crate, and then the warehouse, and then over the fence. The guards inside the fence didn't even notice him leaving.

He had only walked a few feet from the fence when he heard a voice say, "You certainly took your time."

On any other planet Croft would have whirled around, his blaster drawn or firing. But here Croft merely froze, and then turned around slowly.

A gunman stood outlined in the dim starlight.

"You didn't detect me entering," said Croft.

"No," said the gunman. "I followed you here. I was debating whether to raise the alarm, but feared you might escape. I decided it was safest to wait until you came out. I see my assessment was correct."

"Are you here to kill me?" said Croft.

"Correct," said the gunman.

"May I ask why?"

"For a very important reason," said the gunman.

"Which is?" Croft asked.

"Because I'm paid to," the gunman said. "I'm aware how you tricked previous operatives, so I don't think I'm going to give you any more time to-"

"Wait!" said Croft. "I'm working for Quandry!"

"What?" said the gunman. "Impossible. Quandry sent me to kill you."

"When?" said Croft. "When did you get the order?"

"Two days ago," said the gunman.

"Things have changed," said Croft. "I've reached an accommodation with Quandry." He tried to conceal his nervousness. That warehouse would explode at any minute. And he was still too close.

"An accommodation," said the gunman skeptically. "Does this accommodation include sneaking into Mr. Quandry's private warehouse?"

"I'm an infiltrator," said Croft. "I've reached an arrangement with Mr. Quandry where I'm to test his security. That's what I was doing tonight."

"You can't seriously ask me to believe this," said the gunman. But there was a bit of doubt in his voice.

"I have proof," said Croft. "If you'll allow me to reach into my jacket, I have a copy of the contract, with Quandry's signature."

The gunman paused, and with each passing moment Croft expected to be blown up by the warehouse just a few dozen feet away. But he said, "All right, take it out. But slowly."

Croft gingerly reached into his jacket. He pulled out a datapad, punched a few buttons, and then, gingerly holding the pad by its corners, handed it to the gunman.

The gunman took the pad, peering at it in the dim starlight. "I see nothing."

"Press the NEXT button."

The gunman did, a bright flash of lightning came out of the datapad, and the gunman yelled something, collapsing to the ground.

Croft retrieved his Column issued datapad and quickly walked over to the gunman, who was lying rigid on the ground but still conscious. "While the stun effect isn't lethal, I'm afraid you won't be around to tell anyone else about this particular trick."

He started running for the trees. A few second later, the warehouse exploded.

The whole area was engulfed in flame. The explosions continued for several minutes, as other munitions ignited, creating a cascading effect.

********

"What do you mean, it blew up!" Quandry roared. "What was the cause?"

"We're not sure, sir, but the body of the assassin we sent after Toft was found on the grounds," said Rocco.

"Toft, Toft, and again Toft!" said Quandry. "Who is this man?"

Two men were escorted into Quandry's office.

"I can tell you who he is," said one of them. "His name isn't Toft, it's Clifford Croft, and he's an agent with the Column."

"The Column? I thought we eliminated their station post on Grafton," said Quandry.

"He's not a local operative," said the newcomer. "He's one of the Eight."

"A Column Eight operative," said Quandry. "That would explain a lot." He looked hard at the newcomers. "And you are telling me this because...."

"Sluria only wants peace and friendship with you," said Samov, one of the newcomers.

"Peace and friendship," said Quandry.

"Yes, an alliance," said Samov.

"But we don't want an alliance with you," said Quandry.

"What do you want, then?" said Samov.

"Tribute," said Quandry. "A billion credits a year, for starters."

"A billion!"

"For starters," said Quandry. "The Slurians can afford it."

"We will never pay blackmail payments," said Samov.

"Then take a message back to your people-" Quandry broke off in mid-sentence. "No, I have a better idea. Instead of taking a message back to your people, I think you yourself will be the message. Take them away."

"What? What?" said Samov.

Samov and his companion were pulled out of their seats by Graftonite guards.

"Leave their bodies in a public place, where they will be found relatively quickly," said Quandry.

"Wait, you can't just kill us-"

"Actually, I can." Faster than they could see, Quandry raised his right hand and pointed at each of the Slurians in rapid succession. A thin beam of light struck their foreheads, and they collapsed to the ground.

Rocco looked at the fallen Slurians in disgust. "Now we have to carry them out."

"Be glad that's all you have to do," said Quandry. "I want this Croft taken care of. I don't care how you do it. Send bronze medalists, silver medalists, whatever you need. Even multiple operatives."

"Multiple operatives?" said Rocco.

"You heard me. Move!" Quandry barked.