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Simon Wentworth (order #1132857) 9life on the run . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .178PICADOR (MERCENARY)“Sir, Battlecomm says contact in thirty,” Sergeant Martinezwhispered in her ear. Picador was looking through the scope,slowly sweeping back and forth across the jungle’s edge. Nevermind that her two drone riggers had eyes in the sky. She’d learnedlong ago to use technology, but never trust it completely. Mercscouldn’t afford to. Out in the middle of nowhere if somethingbroke there wasn’t always a way to fix it. In her line of work, puttingyour faith in tech over skill and experience was a good way toend up six feet under. Drones could be hacked, feeds interceptedand edited, but her own eyes… she trusted those.Inside the hastily dug trenches, hidden among the roughlycobbled wooden homes, the mercs in her small unit waited withpatience born of long practice. Out in the jungle, her second unitwas patrolling further out, ready to sweep up any opposition fugitives.Most of her magical assets had been deployed in the field,leaving her with only two new recruits to watch. She hoped theywouldn’t break under this, their first real test; not all spellslingersdealt well with death.“Ten seconds,” Martinez whispered. Picador nodded, thenbrought her Ares Alpha up to sight on the treeline. The area theywere patrolling had been hit by guerillas twice in the last threeweeks, unidentified soldiers who’d killed a dozen men, taken thevillage’s stockpile of weapons and harvest, and left the villagers terrified.Picador’s company had been hired eight days ago, althoughthey’d only arrived in the Amazon three days later.The tensions between Amazonia and Aztlan were sky-highand both sides were hiring mercs left and right. She’d taken theAmazonian contract to patrol and protect a few rural villages onthe edges of the disputed territory in what had been Colombia.In addition, they were supposed to discover if the guerillas werereally Aztech troops in disguise, Ghost Cartel soldiers, or simplyopportunistic jungle scum.Which meant that in approximately 7 seconds, they’d either befacing half-starved village raiders, or trained paramilitary forces.Three seconds…One second…Battlecomm being jammed! Switch to encryption 13.Mierda, that answers that, Picador thought. Two giant massesof tangled leaves and vines exploded into being down the line fromher position, scattering her mercs. The shaman next to her startedto jump up, exposing himself, and Picador yanked him back down.Down the line, explosions rocked as concerted fire from heavymachine-guns opened up on the spirits. She grinned with grimdetermination. Her men were well-trained. The spirits disintegratedin a shower of leaves and bark. She messaged her unit overthe tacnet to hold fire to her signal. Would the raiders send otherspirits, or would they attack? Or retreat, making her unit have tochase them into the jungle? That would really piss her off.Picador sighted and waited, one heartbeat, two… movement…and there, the first raiders cleared the tree-line and committed tothe rush towards the village… She waited… waited, lining up hershot, kneeding the custom grip and sighting down the weightedbarrel of the customized Ares Alpha. She fired as the last of theraiders broke cover. Her man dropped, a direct hit to his neck,blood blooming like a flower as his body flew back. Gunfire explodedall down the line; they’d gotten the drop on the raiders.Beside her, the two new greenhorns were pale but holding up. Theraiders turned to take cover among the tree-line, only to be met bythe spirits commanded by her new combat shamans.Picador brought up the battlecomm AR display. She toggled offthe tacnet’s firing solutions and movement predictions, and sent ordersfor her left flank to reposition and her second unit to move in.For a few seconds, the raiders were thrown into confusion,making them easy pickings for her unit. The smartgun sight inher combat monocle tracking her targets, Picador aimed and firedsmall tight bursts, again and again, picking off her targets. Her gunkicked as she shot a grenade behind the attackers’ lines to pushthem forward. A few made it into the first huts, and the sounds ofmelee echoed around her, mixed with the screams of the civiliansthey’d ordered into the central meeting hall.Picador turned away from the fight to watch the tree line,making sure there was no second wave to surprise them—thetacnet was only as good as the information it was fed. Battlecommwas secure, coordinating efforts, providing an AR mesh networkoverlay of the fighting. The younger shaman, to her left, was lookingwhite as a sheet, his pupils so dilated his eyes were almost allblack. She shoved his head down between his legs just before hefainted. Behind her, Martinez continued to whisper updates fromBattlecomm.In less than two minutes, the village and forest was onceagain silence, except for the muted weeping of the civilians in theirmeeting hall.Runner’s Companion