Caliphate

Highway 310, Northwest of ar-Rebchel, Province of Baya, 23 Muharram,

1538 AH (3 November, 2113)

Hamilton and Hans dug frantically in the deep shadows of the woods south of the 310 road to unearth the directional mines Hans had buried there before. There wasn't room for three to dig; Petra stood nervously watching.

"A little . . . fucking . . . close . . . to the fucking . . . road . . . isn't it?" Hamilton grunted.

"I needed . . . a sheltered place . . . where . . . Petra could see . . . the road . . . and . . . still be . . . protected . . . from the blast," Hans answered.

"All right . . . makes sense."

Hamilton's shovel scraped along something that didn't feel remotely like a mine. It was the protective cloth Hans had draped over the cache against the dirt and the weather. "I think . . . we're there," he announced.

In Hamilton's ear there was a beep, followed by, "Hamilton, this is Bongo. Come in Hamilton."

"Hamilton here, Bernie. We've just uncovered the mines. Fucking things look heavy. It's going to be a while."

"Right. We're just getting ready here."