Kotire

But we don’t make the decisions that really matter

She sat by the window with her head darting every minute or so toward the single pane. She sat angled by it, so one could only see her if standing close to the wall, but she had a good view of the field beyond the edge of the power center’s perimeter. Everything around her hummed and buzzed, transferring energy each moment to Kurikuneku – but Kotire had already marked precisely the patrol paths that the real technician followed, and had hidden the corpses appropriately. She wouldn’t have to worry about crossing the new technician’s path – and judging by the exactness with which he filled out his routes, he must have been new. He was a little too precise to truly be long-practiced.

Her rifle had twenty bullets in its current magazine, and five more magazines of thirty bullets each waited on her belt. She could fire for several minutes – an eternity in a firefight. But Kotire knew if she survived this ‘last stand’ – and even in the face of almost certain death, she found herself thinking of the future – she’d have to conserve her ammunition both for long-term survival purposes and because the only way she’d survive this battle would be by fighting less like a guerilla and more like an assassin. Surprise was her friend – striking fast and hard like the Adma always did – but she had no power to sustain pressure.

Whispering into the radio pinned to her shoulder, she listened to Aleks whispering back. Kotire smiled and told him what he had to do, the things he already knew. Give them hell. You’re probably going to die anyway. Wouldn’t you rather take those bastards down with you? We’re in the same boat, you and I, hundreds of miles away from one another, smiling into the face of the reaper.

In a lull in their quiet conversation, Kotire glanced out the window and saw movement in the distance – too far to make out the details. She slipped across the room and glanced at the terminal screen. With each pulse of the radar, she saw the squad’s approach. There were seven of them. “I can take seven,” Kotire muttered to herself.

“What?” Aleks sounded hoarser than before, and that was saying a lot.

“Just my house guests coming calling,” Kotire whispered to the radio. “I might have to go soon. But remember, Aleks, you’re strong. I know you are. I know ‘cause you’re talking to me right now.” She went to the window and reached down under the pane, picking up what lay there.

With her back to the wall she shouldered her grenade launcher.