For every weapon there was a defense, but not againstthe deadliest weapon—man himself!
Raging, Trooper Lanehovered three thousandfeet above Tammany Square.
The cool cybrain surgicallyimplanted in him was workingon the problem. But Lanehad no more patience. They'dsweat, he thought, hating thechill air-currents that threwhis hovering body this wayand that. He glared down atthe three towers bordering onthe Square. He spat, andwatched the little white speckfall, fall. Lock me up in barracks.All I wanted was alittle time off. Did I fight inChi for them? Damn right Idid. Just a little time off, soI shouldn't blow my top. Nowthe lid's gone.
He was going over all theirheads. He'd bowled those citycops over like paper dolls,back at the Armory. Theblack dog was on Lane's back.Old Mayor himself was goingto hear about it.
Why not? Ain't old Mayorthe CinC of the NewyorkTroopers?
The humming paragrav-paksembedded beneath hisshoulder blades held himmotionless above Newyork'sthree administrative towers.Tammany Hall. Mayor's Palace.Court House. Lane cursedhis stupidity. He hadn't foundout which one was whichahead of time. They keepTroopers in the Armory andteach them how to fight. Theydon't teach them about theirown city, that they'll be fightingfor. There's no time. Fromseven years old up, Troopershave too much to learn aboutfighting.
The Mayor was behind oneof those thousands of windows.
Old cybrain, a gift from theTrooper surgeons, complimentsof the city, would haveto figure out which one. Bloodchurned in his veins, nervesshrieked with impatience.Lane waited for the electronicbrain to come up with the answer.
Then his head jerked up, toa distant buzz. There werecops coming. Two black paragrav-boatswhirred along thetranslucent underside of Newyork'santi-missile force-shield,the Shell.
Old cybrain better be fast.Damn fast!
The cybrain jolted an impulsethrough his spine. Lanesomersaulted. Cybrain hadtaken charge of his motornerves. Lane's own mind wasjust along for the ride.
His body snapped into astiff dive position. He beganto plummet down, pickingup speed. His mailed handsglittered like arrowheads outin front. They pointed to aparticular window in one ofthe towers. A predatory excitementrippled through himas he sailed down through theair. It was like going intobattle again. A little red-white-and-greenflag flutteredon a staff below the window.Whose flag? The city flag wasorange and blue. He shruggedaway the problem. Cybrainknew what it was doing.
The little finger of his righthand vibrated in its metalsheath. A pale vibray leapedfrom the lensed fingertip.Breakthrough! The glassticpane dissolved. Lane streamedthrough the window.
The paragrav-paks cut off.Lane dropped lightly to thefloor, inside the room, in battle-crouch.A 3V set was yammering.A girl screamed. Lane'shand shot out automatically.A finger vibrated. Out of thecorner of his eye, Lane sawthe girl fold to the floor. Therewas no one else in the room.Lane, still in a crouch, chewedhis lip.
The Mayor?
His head swung around andhe peered at the 3V set. Hesaw his own face.
"Lashing police with hisvibray," said the announcer,"Lane broke through the cordonsurrounding ManhattanArmory. Two policemen werekilled, four others seriouslyinjured. Tammany Hall haswarned that this man is extremelydangerous. Citizensare cautioned to keep clear ofhim. Lane is an insane killer.He i