Initially, I had figured we would be caught in an ambush as we left. The marksmen positioned inside of the gala were there for precaution, rather than predicted utility. Only in the most strangest circumstances did I believe we would be attacked in the very center of the party. I spent my time, while vigilant and performing the same discreet injections as Emmaline, doing my best to enjoy myself. I began to feel more unburdened by the worries, and despite the lingering thoughts of what was going to occur, I found spending time with Emmaline without care for decorum was immensely enjoyable. She recieved more than a few men's attention, but to my surprise I had to politely decline a number of young women, and a surprising amount of married ones, much to the glowering displeasure of their husbands. 

However, the trap was sprung nonetheless. I dropped Emmaline in a dip and vaulted over a stone alcove. The CRACK CRACK CRACK of the lasbolts ripping through even the screaming. Men scattered and women tripped and screamed, but to my satisfaction the local arbites and the PDF forces that had been requisitioned were returning fire without hesitation. 

There were moments in firefights where the combat shifts, and you can sense it. If you've been in as many as I have, it's like feeling a change in the wind. As soon as I felt it, I lifted myself up and planted my arms on the stone's solid surface to steady my aim, discharging my autogun three times into the closest assailant, who had redirected his fire and attention to the upper floors of the refurbished theater. Two slug hit his body armor, but the third pierced his neck, blood spraying into the goggles of his closest partner. I switched targets and emptied the magazine into him before he could duck behind cover, not giving him time to reorient himself. Briefly I saw Emmaline to my right, and it was after the second man was dead that she used her will. I felt an almost impenetrable urge to drop my weapon, but I was trained to resist such compulsion. 

Well, that would bring questions, I thought to myself. Luckily we could blame it on the attackers, easily enough.

As she turned and fled the three men swatting aside the waiting staff, I reloaded quickly and provided cover fire with five quick shots. She screamed but did not stumble, and crashed into the stone. I pulled her over to land heavily beside me, the other men diving behind cover as I did so, lasbolts superheating the air just above our heads. 

"Good job on hitting his knee," I said, referring to the first man she shot as I returned fire again and then hastily reloaded. I only had two magazines left, I noted. 

"What?" She asked, incredulously. 

"We need one alive, remember." I said with a grin. She was going to shake her head, but then she screamed my name and pointed. I turned as a man landed just beside me, spinning his carbine to take me in the head. I kicked out on instinct, knocking him off his feet. His carbine went off, lasbolts flying inches from our feet. That gave me the moment to leap up and tackle him to the ground as bullets and laser pierced the air a mere meter above our heads. He managed to knee me in the stomach, attempting to break my teeth with his forehead, but I dodged the blow and returned with my own, dazing him and pressing his gun into him, redirecting my previous pulling motion. The carbine went off again, spraying the stonework with lasbolts. I felt I had him, but our contest ended when Emmaline plunged her knife into his leg, and I yanked the gun out of his hand and bashed the butt of it into his face, knocking him out cold. 

A bullet ricocheted off the floor beside my head, and I hastily slid back, pulling the masked man's limp body into cover as I handed Emmaline the lascarbine. "Here, be careful. Try not to hit the guests." I deadpanned, and swiftly tied the assailant up, binding his hands behind his back before I retrieved my fallen gun.