Blood Relative by James Swallow Read Free Book Online Page A

their invasion of Dix-I sector by sneaking into a rally at Nu Nuremburg; that little operation had seen him assassinate Mooler and Marvin, two top-level Nort officers. As such, the enemy had quadrupled security on every other public event.
    "Won't be able to get by with a disguise this time," whispered Helm, guessing Rogue's thoughts.
    On the screens, the vidiganda broadcast Bagman had picked from the datacore was playing a loop from the announcement earlier in the day. DeeTrick's flawless metallic face was grinning out at them, to the wolf-whistles and catcalls of the Norts on the street. "Don't forget to tune in, folks!" she said. "We'll be live across Nu Earth to say bye-bye to blue-boy!" Then the image flickered and changed; now there was a "live broadcast" logo in the bottom corner and the simulant was shaking hands with a stocky, hard-eyed man in a commander's dress uniform.
    "I'm here with Brigadier Trager," said DeeTrick silkily. "San Diablo's most senior - and certainly one of the most handsome - officers!"
    "Oh please," said Bagman quietly. "That guy's got a face like a bucket of smashed crabs."
    Trager began to talk about how difficult it had been to capture the "Rogue Trooper" and of the awesome responsibility that his command placed upon him. The GI watched his face, three storeys high on the side of the building, examining the Nort with a predator's eye. Trager had the stuffed-shirt pomposity that was virtually a trademark of the old school Nordland officer corps; it had to be something that was drilled into them, Rogue assumed, along with battle tactics and that typical arrogance that always made them underestimate Souther ingenuity. "And to think," he sneered to the simulant interviewer, "the pathetic creature actually tried to suggest that we'd captured the wrong person!" He gave a rough chug of laughter. "As if there's more than one of these blue freaks walking around!"
    DeeTrick winked at the camera. "Our brave boys in the Kashan Legion made sure that wasn't so, right?"
    "Bitch," Gunnar growled, voicing the thoughts of his three squad-mates.
    Rogue replaced the binox and removed his helmet. "Okay, here's how it's going to go down." He dipped his hands in some muddy run-off and smeared it across his chest and face. "We can't bust our way in and we can't sneak our way in. So that leaves us one option."
    "This is going to be good," Bagman was sarcastic. "We're going to walk in through the front door? And how will we do that exactly?"
    "Easy," said Rogue. "We're going to let the Norts capture us."
     
    "And, of course, although some officers might find the idea of a static posting to be unchallenging, I have found my command here to be most satisfactory."
    DeeTrick nodded; where Trager's dull monotone and self-aggrandising manner might have put off a human interviewer, the android was positively enraptured by the brigadier's answers. The simulant had no choice in the matter - it was the way the Nordland Overt Media Apparat had programmed her to be. She hung on his every word, occasionally casting the odd saucy smile to her hovercam and flashing come-hither eyes that were modelled on starlets from more than four centuries of history. "So, if I might ask," she interjected, "who will have the honour of terminating the Rogue Trooper?"
    "I've personally selected a group of eight-" Trager's words were suddenly drowned out by the shrill cry of an alert siren. The brigadier shot to his feet and crossed the room to a console. "Report!" he demanded.
    "Patrol Three-Alfa is at the lower lock," came the instant reply. "They captured the Genetik Infantryman!"
    "Captured him? What the hell do you mean? We already..." Trager glanced at DeeTrick, suddenly aware that the unfolding events were being caught on vid. "I'm on my way!"
    The simulant followed him as he raced for the door. "Oh, brigadier," her voice had a singsong cadence. "Our interview isn't over yet!"
     
    Line troopers and junior officers alike saw the thunderous