Hidden Empire - Kevin J. Anderson [56]
In spite of the suppressant foam, the apartment building continued to blaze white-hot, engulfed in flames so intense that fire-fighting crews couldn't begin to battle the disaster from ground level. Another three fire-fighting copters bombarded the building with extinguishing foam, and Raymond realized their main goal was simply to stop the fire from spreading to other buildings, not to save any of the people inside.
Frantic to do something, he pushed against the barricades once more. "I have to get in there. My brothers, my mother." Greenish white foam made him slip as he smeared his way forward.
But again, crowd-control officers blocked him. "Won't do any good, kid. There's nothing left inside but ashes and dental work."
Before Raymond could cause more of a scene, the crowd jostled him again. One of the suppressant choppers overshot its target and dumped half a load of foam over the officers and the front ranks of people. The crowd backed away, cursing. Raymond found himself swept up in the amoebalike motion.
From behind, a man grabbed his arms and pulled him away. Raymond tried to struggle, then felt an iron grip on his other arm, though it was slick with spilled extinguishant. His voice was lost in the hubbub of the crowd.
Three large, nondescript men unobtrusively steered him through the masses toward a side street where the crowd had thinned. Raymond did not recognize these men, saw no expressions on their faces beyond a grim set to their jaws and a complete focus on what they were doing.
"Let me go!" He lashed out with his feet, trying to kick. His toe connected with one man's shin, but the man didn't even flinch, as if he had armor hidden beneath his gray slacks.
Raymond saw a sealed vehicle waiting, parked against the side of a building, its engine running. Dread closed around his heart. This was too much to bear after seeing the fire at his home, knowing that his entire family had been lost in the intense explosion beneath his apartment complex.
He struggled more wildly and managed to get his foam-slick arm free. He swung a fist, connecting with one man's ribs, but it hurt his own knuckles more than it hurt his would-be kidnapper. The door of the vehicle opened like a giant black mouth waiting to gobble him up.
"Who are you? Leave me alone!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Help!" He knew it would do no good. The holocaust and emergency operations were far too noisy.
A blond-haired man with ice-pale blue eyes stepped out of the vehicle, a broad-muzzled energy pulser in one hand. He said in a calm, almost conversational tone, "This stunner won't leave any marks, young man. I have permission to use it if I have to."
Raymond thrashed more vigorously. In the end, the blond kidnapper had to be true to his threat.
Stunned unconscious, Raymond Aguerra was shouldered into the vehicle. The door slid shut, and the men whisked him away.
26 CESCA PERONI
No matter how much outside people and events pummeled them, Roamers always fought back and remained strong. Inspired by rigorous circumstances, Roamer culture blossomed with ideas, some of which were impractical or eccentric in the extreme; other schemes were innovative enough to let the fiercely independent clans thrive in places where most humans would find existence impossible.
Within the rubble belt around a dwarf star, the Roamers had expanded from the first tiny foothold left behind by the Kanaka. Rendezvous was a wonderful medley of space habitats and hollow asteroid living quarters, a scattered rocky archipelago around a bloodred sun.
The asteroids were detritus from the collapsing protostar, insufficient material to coalesce into a planet. Rendezvous was designed with numerous places to dock spacecraft, ships both large and small, as well as camouflaged depots for storing ekti.
Roamers were comfortable with low-gravity environments, suiting up and bounding from one rock to another using jetpacks. Some