I could justifiably claim I was acting to preserve the life of two citizens. It would sound better at the likely upcoming court martial.

I lined up the shot, and when the red light flashed on the pulse cannon, I pulled the trigger.

The HUD informed me that thirty-two militiamen died as white-hot plasma washed over them. Somebody was left lying there, cut in two. It would take them a while to die. In the meantime, they were filling in their companions on exactly how painful it was.

The gunship cruised by overhead. The red reverse swastika told me it was an air ambulance repurposed for paramilitary use. The chaingun jutted from the gap where the side doors had been removed.

The gunship swept closer and turned sideways on so that the boys in the open door could bring the chaingun to bear. Not even kinetic exchange armor could hold up for long under a burst from it. It would take another thirty seconds for the pulse cannon to hit full power. They were probably counting on that.

Of course, pulse cannons don’t need to fire at max charge. I hit the override, focused the beam and pulled the trigger. The shot did little more than scorch the paintwork, frazzle the electronics, and blind the pilot. It was enough. The gunship swayed from side to side. It did not form a good shooting platform. That didn’t stop the militiamen from trying. Give them that. They were determined, those white boys.

I armed a grenade and lobbed it. Wasn’t a bad throw. The grenade exploded before it reached the door. Men toppled to earth like rag dolls, blown out through the far side by the detonation.

The gunship tipped and spiraled down. Beneath it people scattered, not knowing quite where it was going to land, fearing the explosion. I sprayed a few of them with assault rifle fire. The body count went up to forty-four. It didn’t look like I was going to win any medals for my peacekeeping skills today.

The gunship hit the ground, skidded along, and impacted on the wreck of a groundcar. It didn’t explode in the spectacular way that you expect if you watch a lot of action vids on Grid. Federal safety regulations ensure that subnuclear batteries have dampers to prevent that.

The force of the collision smashed the pilot and copilot’s faces into the plexiglass. The sudden stop didn’t do much good to anybody that survived the grenade blast.

The good folks below were starting to have second thoughts about their little stormtrooper-hunting expedition. I fired a few more bursts over their heads to encourage that line of thinking. A big, white-haired man in a black dress uniform shouted orders, directing a squad to storm my position.