He’d almost reached the second-floor landing when the shooting started. Gang members armed with machine pistols came crashing out of rooms, raking the corridors with full-magazine discharges, then snapping in reloads to carry on the carnage. Whatever weapons they’d fabricated had an astonishing fire rate, shredding walls, floors, and ceilings in chaotic shrapnel clouds. Drones returned fire, sending out a barrage of thunderburst grenades. They exploded in incandescent blooms, the blast waves shattering windows and tearing doors off their hinges. The drones advanced, electromagnetic rifles slamming super-velocity rounds toward any hostile their sensors detected. Gang members reeled back, diving for cover. Paramilitaries crept after them, directing the drones’ fire, sometimes opening fire themselves.

Yuri hit the ground as soon as the shooting started. Just in time. Half the wall behind him disintegrated into a swirling cloud of fragments and dust as a gang member strafed it. His two escort drones zipped forward, blasting away in retaliation.

“Holy shit,” he screeched. His head came up. Lucius was on the ground in front of him, also scanning around urgently.

“Looks like they saw us coming,” Lucius shouted.

“No fucking kidding!”

The first clash ended as gang members either died or retreated deeper into the building. Yuri scrambled up and hurried along the smoldering wreckage of the main corridor. “How many gang members are there?”

“Four fatalities,” Boris said. “Estimated seven hostiles remain active on this level.”

Yuri reached the room that was drawing all the power. Its door was gone, wrenched off to leave a slim, jagged rim still attached to the hinges. Four drones sailed through the hole ahead of him. Someone opened fire on them. The response was swift. He heard the definitive sound of super-velocity rounds punching through furniture. A man started screaming—a long, terrified wail of pain.

“Hold fire and isolate the hostile,” he ordered the drones. The visor graphics showed them surging deeper into the room. One of the paramilitaries went in just ahead of him. “Careful, sir, there’s a floor breach.”

“Got it,” Yuri said. It took him a moment to make sense of the chaos laid out before him. So much of the room had been damaged by grenades and bullets. There were five hospital-style gurnez lined up along one side, most of them lying on their side. Medical equipment towers were shredded, pulsing out fluids from their torn casings. Two of the gurnez had unconscious bodies lying on them, which made Yuri’s heart lurch in panic until he realized they were both female. One had taken a bullet to the thigh and was bleeding profusely.

“Shit!” He stared around, searching for a first aid kit. He couldn’t see one.

Another firefight erupted somewhere down the other end of the building. He flinched, ducking down as bullets came slamming through the thin composite walls. “Jessika?”

“Hell, boss, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I need a combat medic case. Fast!”

“Are you hit?”

“Not me. Found our first victims.”

“On my way.”