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* * *
Rastar looked down the seemingly endless passageway, and then glanced at the human pilot.
"You're sure it's this way?"
"That's what the schematic said," Dobrescu replied shortly. "It's a ways yet."
"Very well." The Vashin prince lifted his arm into the air in a broad and a dramatic gesture. "To the shuttle bays!"
He continued down the high, wide passage. It was the first thing they'd found on the ship that wasn't made for midgets, and it was a vast relief. He and Honal had divided their forces in order to approach the shuttle bays from different directions in the hope that one of them might get through unintercepted. So far, neither of them had encountered any actual resistance, and that made Rastar very, very nervous. It was also one reason he was so glad to see this spacious corridor. All the Mardukans found the normal short, narrow passages, and the strangely close "horizon" caused by the curvature of the ship, very odd and alien, but his concern was much more basic. The farther ahead he could see, the less likely he was to walk into an ambush.
After about five minutes, they reached a "T" intersection, with signs leading to the Bridge and the shuttle bays. The Vashin noble waved to the left, then watched as the plasma gu
Rastar didn't even think about his response. He simply drew all four bead pistols and leapt across the relatively narrow intersection, guns blazing. He was surprised, however, to see only a single human figure in the passage. The human was standing with pistols in each hand, and they flashed upward like lightning as Rastar leapt. Despite the fact that the human couldn't possibly have known exactly where and when Raster would appear, four rounds cracked into the Vashin's suit before he landed on the far side of the intersection.
Fortunately, none of them penetrated, and Rastar slammed to the deck. He raised his hands to the group on the far side, motioning for them to stay put. Then he popped his head out and back, quickly, followed by a hand in a "wait a moment" gesture that was nearly as universal among Mardukans as it was among humans.
When that didn't draw any fire, he poked his head out into the corridor, as close to the deck as he could get it. This time the response was immediate and vigorous, and Rastar swore as he jerked back. One of the incoming rounds had missed completely, but the other had plowed a groove in the side of his helmet. Another half-centimeter to the side, and it would have plowed a hole clear through the helmet, which would have been most unpleasant.
The Prince of Therdan sat back, considering what he'd seen in his single, brief glance. The Saint was short, even for a basik— not much taller than Poertena. But the speed and lethal accuracy he'd already demonstrated told the prince that here was an opponent worthy of him. It wasn't as good as swords or knives, but it would have to do.
He thought for a few more moments, then gri
"Dobrescu?" he said over the radio.
"Yes?"
"Go back the way we came. Link up with Honal."
"What about you?"
"I think this fellow is good enough that we'd all like him kept right where he is," Rastar replied.
As he spoke, he eased a bit closer to the intersection, then leaned out, spotted the human—half-concealed now behind what looked like a ripped-out hatch—and fired four rounds rapid-fire. His opponent ducked, but only for an instant, and then it was Rastar's turn to roll hastily further into cover as beads screamed lethally past.
"You go find Honal," he told the human healer cheerfully. "I'll stay here and play for a while."
* * *
"We've got to go," Giova
"What about Beach, Sir?" Cellini asked.
Giova
* * *
"Captain Pahner, we've got a counterattack going!" Despreaux called. "They're attempting to break out from the Armory!"
"How are you doing?" Pahner asked. Captain Fain had been held up by a small group of wandering commandos, but he was nearly to the sergeant's position—no more than a minute out. Of course, in combat, a minute was a long time.
"Kyrou and Birkendal are dead, Sir," the sergeant replied. Pahner could hear the thump of fire in the background over her voice. Given that she was inside armor, that meant some heavy impacts. "Clarke's hit, but still fighting, and the St. Johns are out on the hull. I'm down to four people, Sir."
"Just hold out for another minute, Sergeant," the captain replied calmly. "Just one minute. Fain's nearly there."
"We'll try, Sir," she said. "I'm—"
Pahner shook his head as the communications system automatically dumped a feedback squeal. Something had filled the frequency with static. He knew what the sound meant, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
"Sergeant Despreaux?" He asked. Silence answered. "Computer, switch: Beckley?"
"Sir!" The Alpha Team leader was panting. "Despreaux's down! We're in bug-out boogie mode, Sir. The Armory is open!"
"Hold tight, Beckley," Pahner replied. "You just have to hold on!"
"I'd like to, Sir, but it's just me and Kileti functional. Kane bought it, Chio has Clarke, and I have Nimashet. We're going to try to pull back through the Diasprans and hand over the fight. We don't have a choice, Sir."
"Computer, switch: Fain!"
* * *
Gro
"Julian!" he called, lifting his own plasma ca
"All units," Pahner a
"Pocking hell," the squad leader snarled, sliding on his belly towards the plasma gu
"Because they don't want to die?" the Asgardian suggested. "You know—"
The second blast of plasma had been more carefully coordinated, with two plasma ca
The ChromSten plate, its backing of hardened steel melted in the intense heat, flew down the passage, catching Moseyev unawares and slamming him into the outboard bulkhead.
And all the coordinated fire the plate was no longer intercepting tore into Gro
* * *
Julian ducked under the last blast of plasma fire, reached the stricken Asgardian, and rolled him over. The final blast had caught him just below the waist, and shredded the heavy body armor with effortless viciousness. Gro