Monkey's Luck Page 12

ship. If we can get Kriegsman into sync for even a nanosecond, the link will trigger the master

  comm panel and send those messages out.”

  “Which is why you need to stay here –” I started.

  “No point.” Somewhere in the background Romeo’s rifle zimmed again. I didn’t hear the

  Lupan move but suddenly he was next to me. “You can’t get through those ships on your own.

  We’ve done what we can here. We’re going.” He pointed an ear toward the back of the shack.

  “Besides, I can hear heavy weaponry coming up – mobile cannon most likely. I’d just as soon

  you two aren’t here when it arrives.”

  Roy finished his adjustments. The gleam of the shield flickered. He skipped through it,

  portable sync link in hand. The shield reformed behind him, its glow brighter and somehow

  harder than it had been. “I linked it to the central power unit,” he said. “So even if they melt this

  shack into the ground, those messages will still go out. Assuming, of course, we get Kriegsman

  to sync in.” He fluttered lashes at me. “Now, are you ready?”

  With Romeo providing cover fire we dodged out the door. Awen offed the shack side of her

  loader’s shield long enough for us to scramble up the ladder. She rumbled off the instant the two

  of us tumbled into the cab.

  “Hey, wait for Romeo!” I grabbed for Awen’s arm but Roy blocked me.

  “Romeo’s following. Get going.”

  Awen already had the loader backing down the main drag. We were drawing enough fire to

  make the loader’s shields blaze. She swung it around as soon as we reached the first crossroad

  and picked up speed. None too soon, either. Behind us the universe flared: that wasn’t a cannon.

  Firepower like that could only mean somebody’d rolled up one of the anti-spacecraft guns. The

  blast’s shock wave sent the loader skittering to one side, rolling Roy and me around the cab like

  a pair of rag dolls. Locked in the master’s chair Awen ducked our flailing bodies and managed to

  right the loader again. She swore at whatever readings she saw in sync. She peered at me, grim-

  faced. “Wherever we’re going, it better be quick. Shields won’t take another one like that. And I

  got soldiers in the hold to think about.”

  “Landing field,” I told her. “Get the sisters out there, too. We got to block that fighter squad

  from taking off.”

  We reached the landing field to see the fighter squadron taxiing out toward the landing field.

  Through the haze of dust and heat shimmer I saw a trio of troop loaders moving to intercept

  them. Another pair of loaders bulled past them to block the field at the far end of the hangar line.

  Between them, the lines of loaders boxed the manta squad in. I prayed those pilots would hesitate

  to fire on their own troops long enough for us to get there.

  I laid a hand on Awen’s shoulder. “You got a portable mic in this thing?”

  “Sure, but –”

  “Give me.”

  Taking one hand out of sync she pulled a silver strand out of her seat’s trinket pouch and

  handed it over. I wrapped it around my throat, then rummaged through the cab’s storage

  compartments until I found a greasy rag that still had a few patches of white left on it. “Awen,

  you got anything I can tie this on?”

  “Sheesh, you’re a mooch. Under the seat.” I scrounged under her legs till I found the long

  metal rod that served as her ladder reel. Reaching down I pulled out an extendable metal hook,

  the kind drivers used to snag stuff from the unreachable angles of their massive machines. It took

  a bit of juggling to get the long rod extended without impaling any of us. I managed it, finally.

  Bracing the rod between my knees I tied the rag to its tip.

  “Do tell me you’re not planning some grand surrender scenario.” Roy sounded snarkier than

  usual.

  Not likely.” I tested the rag to be sure it would stay put. “I’m betting those mantas won’t fire

  while they’re grounded. Not in such close formation.”

  “Unless Kriegsman gives the order.”

  “Well, thanks for the reminder. I was trying not to think about that.”

  “On the bright side, he’ll have to sync in to give it. Works for me.” Roy grinned.

  “Bastard.” On the other hand, I couldn’t really blame him for hoping. “You just take care of

  Romeo, you got that?”

  “You know I will. Or try, anyway.” He shrugged, looked away. “Unfortunately, Romeo still

  wishes it’d been you on that ship.”

  “Shut it, you two. We’re here.” Awen brought us up behind the loader line facing the hangars.

  I climbed out as soon as she pulled into position at the end of the line. I slid down the ladder as

  soon as the shield shimmer faded. Clear of the shield I could hear the brutal sounds of battle

  from the base. I felt more than heard an explosion rock the buildings on the base-side of the field.

  That damned anti-orbiter gun must’ve finished with the comm shack. I didn’t dare let myself

  think what had happened to Romeo. Waving my makeshift flag, I jogged toward the manta pack.

  And slammed into the combined backwash from the mantas’ repulse fields.

  Hadn’t thought about that. On the ground, manta fighters hovered on repulse fields same as a

  skimmer. Except that where a skimmer’s field kicked up loose stones, a manta’s field pounded

  those stones through the pavement. Packed so close, the mantas’ combined fields formed a

  barrier as solid as a steel wall.

  Damn! I skipped back, judging angles and praying that any god still in the neighborhood had

  a fondness for fools. I found what I hoped was a workable angle and raced for its fighter’s field.

  Using the rod as a pole, I vaulted onto the manta’s nose. I caught a glimpse of the pilot’s round-

  mouthed shock as I slid past and bounced down the repulse field on her other side.

  There must be a god around after all: somehow I managed to hang on to my rod and rag.

  Inside the pack, the mantas’ fields pounded my body. There wasn’t any gravel left here in the

  center but the fields’ combined throb made the ground itself roll beneath my feet. The only

  reason I wasn’t pounded to pulp already was because the mantas’ fields didn’t overlap. I

  squirmed along the narrow passage between the fields, flag held high, until I reached the center

  fighter. Kriegsman’s ship.

  I did a three-sixty, pointing at the silver comm unit I wore. Once I was sure every pilot in the

  surrounding ships had seen me I turned it on and set it for field volume. The only way

  Kriegsman could stop them from listening now was to shoot me. And he couldn’t do that at such

  close range without damaging his own squaddies. I backed up until I could make out

  Kriegsman’s face through the manta’s screens. “Colonel Kriegsman!” I shouted. The fields

  rattled my words up and out across the squadron. “You are under arrest! Stand this squadron

  down! Now!”

  I waited. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it over the thunder of the mantas around me.

  Nothing. Kriegsman ignored me. But around me, the mantas on the field side of the formation

  edged away ever so slightly. Peering up, I saw the nearest pilots were on their headsets, all

  watching Kriegsman. Looking for orders.

  “Atten- shun! ” That got the pilots’ eyes back on me. I did another slow turn, making as much

  eye contact as possible with each pilot. “T
his is not an authorized action! Colonel Kriegsman has

  subverted orders from both the Corps and StelFleet! He is charged with high treason! Now stand

  down or be charged with him!”

  Gravel stung my back. Some invisible force shoved me forward, hammering my back like a

  prize fighter. In a burst of terror I realized Kriegsman was inching his ship forward. He was

  pushing me into his wingman’s repulse field. If he caught me between the two, I’d be pounded

  into mush.

  I bounced along the field behind me, aiming for the narrow opening between the shimmer of

  mantas’ fields.

  Gone. The two mantas in front of me sidled inward, closing the gap. I shielded my head as

  best I could but the fields hammered at my gut. I couldn’t breathe. All I could hope as

  consciousness started to fade was Kriegsman had had to sync in to give them the order…

  Light flared. A shard of red-hot metal flashed overhead. The hammering on my body stopped.

  An instant later I felt the ground heave as the concussion wave rolled over me.

  A second blast sent the mantas scattering. Holding my ribs, I ran for the false safety of the

  hangars before whatever god was watching over me got distracted.

  I stumbled through a hangar door and collapsed against its inside wall. Peering through the

  wavering haze of the mantas’ fields I saw the loaders open their hatches to let the troops inside

  run out. Poor sods had no idea what was going on. They figured out pretty quick they’d stumbled

  out into a firefight. They just didn’t know who the hell they were fighting.

  The leading manta fighter tried to lift off straight over the loaders blocking the runway. A

  cannon blast took it out the instant it cleared the ground. The rest of the squad simply rolled over

  the troops, using their repulse fields to slam grunts onto the tarmac. A few of the confused troops

  managed to roll out of the way and add their rifle fire to the cannon’s.

  The center three mantas lifted in unison. Gobbing hells! That was Kriegsman, flanked by his

  wingmen, all of them surrounded by the pale nimbus of battle shields. The bastard was going to

  get away after all! I’d hung on to my metal rod for some reason. Swearing, I fired it at the rising

  ship. I didn’t do any damage, but I did get the bastard’s attention. All three mantas swung around

  to bring their nose guns to bear on me.

  Frantic, I dodged back into the hangar, looking for any way out. A nova bright explosion

  knocked me sprawling. I hit the ground an instant before the shock wave sent me rolling across

  the hangar floor. Around me I heard the crash and clangs as the wave picked up heavy support

  equipment and fired it at the back of the building. I came to my feet to see the wingman’s ship

  slam wingtip first into Kriegsman’s. Their battle shields flared and crackled where they collided.

  A second cannon blast hit the wingman’s belly as I watched. The manta’s shield exploded,

  taking the ship with it. I dove for the shelter of a mobile winch. The machine’s heavy plating

  deflected the pieces of white-hot ship cartwheeling in all directions. I waited for the flaming rain

  to stop, then peered around its casing.

  Kriegsman’s ship was gone. Swearing, I hopped over steaming bits of manta to take a quick

  peek around the door for the manta. Battle shields had saved Kriegsman. But his ship had gouged

  a fifty-meter trough down the tarmac. It stood upright on one wingtip in a bubbling gully like

  some savage sculpture. What was left of the manta’s undercarriage dangled, spitting, from the

  ship’s shattered belly.

  Around the field the rest of the squadron was in tatters. A couple of the nearer ships were

  pockmarked with the wingman’s debris. A wedge of engine jutted out of the pilot’s cabin of one

  ship; the narrow end poked out of the undercarriage. The rest of the squadron had powered

  down. Their pilots clambered out to surrender to the ground troops surrounding each ship.

  Through the gaps between ships I saw the loaders still in blocking formation. I spotted Roy’s

  rainbow scarf weaving through the dull grays and browns of the grunts’ uniforms. Ah, well.

  Should’ve known I wouldn’t be lucky enough for anybody to have shot him. The little bastard

  spotted me and waved like I was some dumbass grunt going the wrong way. I left him to it. It

  was Romeo I wanted.

  Looking past the impaled remnant of the nearest manta, I spotted the anti-spacecraft gun a

  dozen or so meters down range. I was running toward it even before I saw Romeo pop the pilot’s

  shell and start to clamber out. I barreled into him as soon as feet touched the tarmac.

  “We did it!” I hugged and pounded him in tandem until he warded me off in self-defense.

  “Where’s Kriegsman?”

  “Who cares? There’s nothing he can do now. He’s a goner either way.” I grabbed Romeo’s

  hand and turned it palm up. My heart lurched at the sight of the tiny cilia rippling his skin. I

  looked up to meet his eyes. For the first time in years I felt joy shining in my own.

  “I don’t know if it will work,” Romeo said. “The bond is already half-formed with Roy.”

  “Then I’ll take leftovers.” I lifted his hand to my cheek. “I don’t care –”

  “Will you get down? ” I heard Roy’s shriek as he slammed into me. We went down together in

  a sprawl. And something blinding hot flashed past above my head.

  I came up to see Romeo still standing, a smoking hole near the center of his chest. He glanced

  down at the wound, then blinked at me. “Looks like it’s a moot point after all…” His knees

  buckled and he dropped,

  Roy was already rolling clear. He came up with a laser pistol from somewhere, popped off a

  series of shots. I threw a glance over at his line of fire in time to see Kriegsman dive for cover.

  Combat habit took over. I slapped two fingers against Romeo’s neck. Praise all the gods!

  There was still a pulse. Not much of one but there. Beside me, Roy crouched in fighting mode,

  pistol weaving in rhythm to the sobs wracking his body. I lifted Romeo’s hand. The cilia were

  still rippling. Awen said the bond was strong as life itself. Praying to every god I could think of, I

  slapped his palm to my throat.

  Pain! Raw, burning, throbbing pain… my chest and shoulder felt like they were on fire. My

  heart seemed to swell, thumping up to block my throat. Somewhere, beneath it all, I felt Romeo,

  felt him trying to push me away, willing me to live. And felt him fading…

  I bit back a sob of my own. I wasn’t strong enough! He couldn’t complete the bond, not now.

  But maybe…maybe two hearts beating together just might save him. If the bond had already

  been started…

  “Roy!” I blinked the Sprite into focus. I didn’t need to explain. He dove over to Romeo’s

  other side. Still holding Romeo’s palm to my throat, I slapped the Lupan’s other palm against

  Roy’s cheek. I felt Roy’s yearning as the bond took hold. Felt the rush of youthful energy

  powering a tsunami of love that washed out fear, and exhaustion and pain. And, slowly, I felt the

  deep, powerful essence that was Romeo claw its way back to life. Dimly, I saw the Sprite’s eyes

  go wide. Then they rolled back in his head. Keeping his hand clapped against Romeo’s, he

  collapsed against the big man’s chest.

  A laser bolt blistered the tarmac near my leg. Romeo was safe now; Roy had seen to
that.

  With an animal’s cry, I broke away from the bond and scrambled to my feet.

  I spotted Kriegsman. beside the wreckage of his ship. He held a rifle, its power light a green

  pinpoint on its dark barrel. I dodged around the bulk of the Romeo’s monster gun, as Kriegsman

  fired again. I remembered I’d forgot to grab Roy’s gun when his shot spat beads of molten metal

  across my cheek. Squinting through the dust I made out Del’s broad frame in the lee of the

  nearest manta.

  Keeping the gun between me and Kriegsman’s position I hopped and waved until I got her

  attention. “Take cover,” I yelled. I jabbed a finger toward Kriegsman’s manta. “Colonel’s got a

  rifle.”

  She nodded but the grim smile she put on it didn’t bode well for cooperation. A moment or

  two later I saw the other sisters clambering down the slides of their cabs. Each woman carried a

  long, metal rod. Their expressions reminded me of a wolf pack: grim. Hungry. Hunting. I didn’t

  need a mirror to know my own expression was even uglier.

  Beyond the wing I saw Kriegsman creeping toward one of the abandoned mantas. I motioned

  to Del. She caught my idea. She tossed me her own rod. Then she and Paris herded a group of

  disarmed grunts out onto the field, putting them between Kriegsman and me. I ran to join them,

  praying I could get close enough to Kriegsman to take him down before he reached the manta.

  No good – he was too close. With a desperate surge I broke free of the pack. Kriegsman

  whirled, gun snapping up. Around me, soldiers scattered out of his line of fire. I threw the rod

  low, boomerang style, and dove. Laser fire grazed my boot soles. The shot ended in a thumping

  ooof. On the uproll, I saw Kriegsman doubled over. He wasn’t injured, but the impact had

  knocked the rifle out of his hands. I launched myself at him before he recovered.

  He was wheezing but he managed to snatch up the rod. He whipped it at my head in a

  decapitating arc. I ducked and kicked sideways, slamming the edge of my boot into the side of

  his knee. I heard the bone crack. Kriegsman’s leg collapsed. He dropped but he still managed to

  crack the end of the rod against my arm. I felt the bone crunch. Knew even before the pain hit

  that my arm was broken.

  Blinking pain haze out of my eyes I saw Kriegsman crawling for the rifle. I scrambled past