“That’s bullshit, man,” snapped Lazaro. “There’s a machine gun on top of this thing.”
“And what are you going to shoot at? The air? They’re hidden in the buildings all around. You’ll be lucky to get in a burst before—”
“He’s right,” I said. “It’s no good. Those people aren’t just human barriers—they’re hostages. We start fooling around with that gun ... and they’re toast.” I keyed the mic of my radio. “Sea One, this is Away Team Alpha. Come back.”
Atticus continued: “... gangland theatrics. How else was I going to get you to talk? I knew you were after some kind of kale ...”
Our radios squawked. “Go ahead.”
“Listen, Roman, quickly: We are surrounded by Skidders and need technical data regarding Gargantua— defense mechanisms, weapons systems, whatever you got. And we need it fast.”
He
