City of Iron and Dust by J.P. Oakes

Author:J.P. Oakes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

Bee

“We should have taken that last left.”

“That would take us straight into their line of fire.”

“We should circle round.”

“But these are all straight roads.”

“Oh, shut up, you ass.”

The Fae Liberation Front—however much they do not want to admit it—are lost. An address on Canal between Bridge and Arch Streets is attached to the call sign “Oscar-crimson-five” from Bee’s sheet of discovered goblin commando groups. However, out here in Smog’s Bend the streets are unfamiliar, and determining the best route is proving as divisive as any other argument they’ve had this night.

Chow, the pixie, has a map out and is examining it with her brow deeply furrowed. “I think it’s an apartment block,” she says. “But we wouldn’t want to occupy an apartment block, would we?”

Bee shrugs. He doesn’t really care why the goblins are anywhere. He just cares about making sure they aren’t there anymore.

“This is Arch Street,” someone else says, pointing to a street sign.

They stop, stare at the sign warily. Harretta approaches Bee and Tharn with similar caution. “We should,” she says hesitantly, “have a plan of attack.”

Bee’s eyes flick to Tharn, but he—thankfully—does not scream at her that she’s dictating what the group should do, and simply nods. And for her part, Harretta doesn’t add to the conversation, even though she is clearly yearning to tell them more.

Bee, however, has no plan in mind, and apparently Tharn doesn’t either. Finally, Bee says, “Well, if you have a suggestion, Harretta…”

“Two groups,” she says immediately, “one small and fast to scout a way into the apartment building. Then, once they report back, the main group goes in big and loud. Meanwhile, the scouts head to the back of the building, looking for an alternate means of ingress so they can flank anyone else we come across.”

Bee looks at Tharn, shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

Tharn nods.

And that’s all well and good, except, of course, it doesn’t sound good to Bee in the slightest. Rather, it sounds like charging death down and daring death to make its move.

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything. Instead he listens as the group whispers the plan back and forth—tweaking, refining, negotiating—and by the time they’re done, there are two groups of scouts moving forward, one high and one low, while another group of four will watch their back trail. Meanwhile, the remainder will wait for the scouts to give the all clear.

As a group, Bee thinks, they have approximated military know-how. Maybe there should be some comfort in that.

He goes with the scouting group that’s sticking to street level. There are three of them: Bee; Garfaux, a purple-skinned sidhe; and Gange, a ginger-haired kobold. They all move at a light jog. Bee holds the machine gun—reclaimed from Tharn once more—tight to his hip, trying to reduce its clatter. He suspects the gun is the reason the other scouts were so happy to have him along.

It is better, he thinks, to be out in front, to meet whatever the world has to offer head on.

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