A scream wrenched Marcus’s attention around to his last stalwart, reluctant defender. Sihn Ve’Yan was a spinning vision of death as she danced through the milling throng of shock troopers, her body the only weapon she needed. She knew just where to strike to penetrate their armor. Already, several were down around her. They were moaning, groaning, and rocking feebly as they cradled their injuries, but they were clearly out of the fight.
But none of them were going to be able to help him with the door.
Marcus turned back to the impossible task and searched for buttons he might push, sliders he might slide, or anything else that might be a control he could manipulate and override Taurani’s influence.
There was nothing.
He wanted to shout, or scream, or pound his hands against the door, but he knew that wouldn’t help anyone, especially his friends fighting desperately behind him. He took a step back, aware of the battle raging only feet away, and looked up at the giant door. The pitted steel stared mutely back at him.
“No!” He screamed despite his resolution. “No, no, no!” He pounded at the door with his hands. He felt like a child, but the knowledge that they were all going to die with their backs to a metal wall had driven him beyond thought.
The door began to grind open.
Marcus’s eyes widened. His mouth gaped wide.
The door ground to a halt.
His eyes narrowed, and he pushed his hands against the cold metal with a vicious, “No!”
Somewhere in his mind, he felt something give. Patterns fell into place somewhere beneath his conscious understanding, and he leaned into the door, knowing it would open.
It didn’t.
He screamed, pushing all of his frustration and rage into the cold metal. He was not going to die like this. He was not going to fail his friends this late in the day. Taurani was not going to have a Human head to parade around the station as an exclamation point to his farce of conquest.
Behind him, the flat bangs of Justin’s gun echoed off the low ceiling. The grunts and cries of close combat were muffled by the wall of flesh, fabric, and armor that pressed in upon them from all sides. The small circle of security was dwindling as Angara, Justin, and the Thien’ha were pushed back one reluctant step at a time.
Marcus’s throat was raw, and he dug into himself as deeply as he had ever dug before, his scream rose to painful heights and he pushed forward as if his fingers were going to sink into the metal.
With a stuttering, shaking motion, the blast doors began to retract again into the armored walls.
As soon as the opening was large enough to squeeze through, he bellowed over his shoulder. “Get in! Get in now!”
He had no idea how much longer he could control the door. He felt as if he was wrestling with some contradictory power trying to drive the door closed against him. If he got it open, would he be able to close it?
Justin and Angara pressed close behind him. He had not been keeping track of Justin’s shots, but he had to be down to his last clip, and Angara was panting, her dark skin and jacket glistening, her knives and arms drenched in thick, black blood.
The door was about half open before it once again shrieked to a halt. Marcus stood there, one hand on either retracting slab, arms extended to their limit, and shouted for Angara and Justin to go in under his arms.
“You’re the only one who can ready the ship!” He shouted into Angara’s face, watching her instinct for battle warring with her common sense. Justin nodded without nearly as much thought and pushed her through the door.
“Come on, you two!” As soon as Nhan and Ve’Yan were through, he could try to close the door from the other side. Somehow, he felt that closing it would be easier than forcing it open, as long as he didn’t wait too long.
“You go through, Marcus Wells!” Nhan’s shrill voice cut above the clangor of battle. “We will hold the door while you begin to close it!”
Marcus wanted to argue, but then he nodded, leaping through the doorway, spinning and placing his hands back on the metal, preparing to lean back into the battle of wills with whatever force had been fighting him, whether program, Ambassador, or inertia.
He stopped as he saw the scene before him. The two mystics were holding back a tidal wave of brown-armored soldiers that pushed toward the door. Their long, heavy blades were inhibiting their ability to fight effectively, which was probably the main reason his four friends had held them off as long as they had. But those fierce, angry faces were pushing ever-closer now, and with the press of bodies, Ve’Yan was finding her own techniques hampered as well.
Nhan’s staff, however, was probably the perfect weapon for the situation. In fact, it seemed to be able to become the perfect weapon for any situation.
The furry little being swung the staff around and it blurred into a stubby, wide-barreled shotgun, barked a vicious cloud of green light and death that pushed a wedge of Ntja soldiers back, and then blurred again into a long length of barbed chain fastened to a fluttering cluster of ribbon blades that he swung in a wide arc, sending the rest of the front rank falling backward, swords raised in defense.
The Ntja fell back, giving the two mystics a moment’s respite. “Come on! Get in!” Marcus’s voice was raw now, but he shouted anyway, ignoring the pain.
Nhan skittered back, his staff resolving itself into a long pike that he brandished in the faces of the closing enemy. Beside him, Ve’Yan moved with graceful steps, her hands before her as a shield.
Then she looked back at Marcus, her eyes narrow, and spun to charge back into the Ntja with an animal shriek.
“Ve’Yan, no!” Nhan took two steps forward, pushing the shining point of his spear into one metal-studded dog face that was getting too close. “Come back!”
“You go!” She grunted as she leapt into the front rank, her hands and feet a constant blur around her as one after another, the nearest soldiers collapsed, clutching at throats, eyes, and groins. “I’ll be right behind. Get the door closing!”
Marcus stood for a moment, frozen in indecision. Khet Nhan stepped back to stand beside him, shaking his head with anger. “She blames herself that we were late.” He muttered. “The damned fool girl is going to get herself killed.”
Marcus blamed her too, and had blamed her from the moment he heard Justin’s report. And he seriously doubted that she blamed herself. On the other hand, he wasn’t so mad that he wanted her to die …
He bent in against the door and hunched his shoulders, bringing his mind back in line with the door. As it started to shake once again, the panels sliding together, he watched as Ve’Yan continued to make the best use of the space her master’s last attack had created. She spun and jumped and dove, attacking first one flank of the enemy and then another so quickly that the swords swinging clumsily at her as she danced away found only empty air.
But there were too many of them, and as they stepped forward, moving over the still bodies of their fallen companions, she was pushed closer and closer to the door.
“Ve’Yan, now! It’s closing!” The door was now just barely wide enough to admit her thin body, and it seemed to be closing faster than it had opened, although that might have been merely his perception.
Nhan continued to thrust his spear through the door, keeping any Ntja who attempted to get behind Ve’Yan at bay. One thrust caught a soldier beneath the arm and it grabbed the shaft, pushing through toward the acolyte’s back and pulling on the spear. If it had been a normal weapon, both mystics might have been doomed as the beast drove its sword into the Diakk girl’s back while pulling the master back into the melee. Instead, however, the spear tip blurred and widened, slicing the fingers from the soldier’s hand and digging deeper into its side. The Ntja cried out in surprised pain and staggered back, only to catch Ve’Yan’s heel on the jaw with such force that the wet snapping of bones could be heard above the sounds of battle. The alien fell limply to the floor, the spear blurred again, slicing out of its flesh, and reformed to menace the next att
acker.
Except that with the distraction of the creature’s death, another soldier was able to approach on the far side, out of reach of Master Nhan’s spear, and unseen by Ve’Yan who was busy forcing back the enemy on the other flank.
Marcus watched, helpless, as the crude sword rose up behind the acolyte, hanging motionless in the air for a moment that seemed like it would stretch on forever. And then it fell.
The bark of Justin’s pistol scared the hell out of Marcus, and he shied away, the door grinding to a halt. The bullet struck the Ntja between its beady eyes and threw its head back, big wet mouth flopping open. But momentum and gravity were harder to stop, and the big chunk of metal continued to fall. It was pulled off of true by the stiffening soldier’s dead hands, but nevertheless, it caught Ve’Yan a glancing blow across the back and flung her at the door with a stunned, confused expression on her pale face.
“No!” Nhan’s piping voice was furious, and the spear formed once more into a howling chain weapon that gave the enemy a moment’s pause. It was enough for him to rush forward and grab his acolyte before she fell. He began to drag her to the door, making little progress until Justin, ducking beneath Marcus’s arms, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her through the door. He let her go with one arm and she screamed as she twisted, Nhan catching her as she fell. Justin lashed out behind them without even looking, and several more gunshots sent the pursuing Ntja shrinking back.
They pulled her through the door, a trail of dark blood smearing the floor, and Marcus bent to his work again, pressing his forehead against the cold metal and clenching his eyes painfully shut.
With a dull crunch the metal slabs crashed against each other, muffling the enraged shouts from the other side, and Marcus fell forward onto his knees, no less exhausted than if he had just run a marathon.
He was only dimly aware of the warm wetness beneath him as he collapsed into the trail of Ve’Yan’s blood.
*****
As Angara slid into her command chair, she could feel the tension draining from her back. They were still being pursued by an evil mob of thugs, fugitives now without a shred of the power or security they had known. But behind the controls of the Yud’ahm Na’uka, it could not be all tragedy and tears.
She could almost feel at one with her people in moments like this.
With several mental signals, the ship began to prepare itself for launch. She released the quantum-gravitic interfaces on the control elements of her wings to faster assume combat profile as soon as they could get clear of the bay. The enormous engines sheltered within the cowlings on either primary wing began to spin up with a hellish roar that warmed her heart. The dim lights of the control deck were soothing after the harrowing gauntlet to get here, and with that thought she peered up over the lip of the vision field to see how things fared at the main blast door.
Justin had returned to the door, as she knew he would, and was standing behind Marcus, peering beneath one arm at whatever was happening outside the docking bay. There was no sign of the Thien’ha, so they must still be holding back Taurani’s horde on the other side.
She wished them well. She would never abandon companions in the face of danger, but if they were taken down before her eyes, she would leave Penumbra alone if she had to.
She felt ashamed even as the thought surfaced, and she shook her head with an angry jerk. She should leave if they were taken down. She knew she would not. And knew she was a fool for it, too. The Na’uka was not some unarmed luxury skiff. She would unleash its full fury on the Ntja below if she was forced to watch her friends die.
There was a sudden rush of motion at the door and she threw herself up and against the viewing field as if she could reach through and affect the outcome. The bang of Justin’s primitive firearm was deadened by the distance and the vast space of the docking bay, but clear nonetheless. He fired beneath Marcus’s arm and then dove through the door.
The set of Marcus’s shoulders, even at this distance, screamed of tension and pain, and his arms seemed to shake as he held them against the metal. Several more detonations rolled back from the battle, and the little Thien’ha master was through, pulling the Diakk girl behind him. Justin came through last, holding her waist and punching his gun back behind him, and her anxiety intensified as she realized it was no longer firing.
As soon as they were clear, Marcus’s back tensed up even further and the door resumed its shaking movement, grinding closed until the plates crashed together with an impact she felt rather than heard.
Ve’Yan, the Diakk acolyte, was clearly wounded. Against her dark robes it was impossible to see how badly, but she was limp and still in the arms of her master. They were running to the ship, followed by an exhausted Marcus who kept stumbling as he cast quick glances behind him.
The Yud’ahm Na’uka was nearly ready to depart when they dragged Ve’Yan’s limp body into the common room behind the command deck. They eased her down onto her face, taking as much care in their haste as they could. There was an ugly rent clearly visible across the girl’s back, the fabric of her robe heavy with blood.
“Get us out of here!” Marcus barked as he came up the ramp. He seemed paler than normal, with deep bruises beneath his eyes.
Angara jumped back into the command chair, setting it bouncing beneath her as it struggled to adjust to her mood and position. Justin and Nhan continued to work on Ve’Yan, trying to stabilize her, while Marcus moved up to stand beside the pilot, looking out at the far blast door while his hands writhed together nervously.
He jerked his chin at the door. “We need to be gone before they get that open.”
As they watched, a small sliver of light gleamed out from the center of the door.
Angara bent to the controls and the chair swept her around into a prone position, changing the configuration of the viewing fields, drawing them down and around the nose of the command deck, the better for her to navigate under battle conditions.
“You need to go sit down.” She muttered, already lost in the interface with her ship. Icons, information, and graphics flashed before her eyes, and she barely registered his response.
The Yud’ahm Na’uka eased itself off the deck and began to hover on the repulsor fields being generated by the two glowing spheres in her wings. She brought it swinging around for the massive entranceway and watched several Ntja pushing their way through the slowly-expanding gap in the door.
Faces flashed behind her eyes. She saw Agha-pa and many others, all dead at Taurani’s hands. Well, the damned Kerie was not in front of her, but his thugs were. And for the duration, she was no longer responsible for the well-being of the city or the maintenance of the common docking areas. Her fingers tightened within the control fields. She always preferred to fly by touch when she might need to get fancy or violent.
The ship stopped its spin and floated closer to the opening door. There was a growing party of Ntja on her side of the barrier, and she gritted her teeth, remembering the suppression field. There was little she could do to them while the field was in place.
One of the soldiers brought his weapon to his shoulder and fired a shot that glanced harmlessly off the ship’s hardened hull. Somewhere, probably in the control center, someone had realized that the suppression field was more hindrance than help, chasing down such a small party bearing so few galactic weapons.
Her grimace turned to a wide smile as another blast splashed harmlessly off her ship; such unfortunate timing on the Ambassador’s part.
The generators on the wings flashed, and massive tendrils of bright energy reached out to caress the mob of Ntja at the door. They died where they stood, frozen in shivering scenes of pain and torture as bolt after bolt flashed through their bodies. The energy grounded into the walls around them, the deck on which they stood, and various small vehicles and pieces of equipment scattered across that end of the vast bay. The first explosion, a small single-person load lifter, ignited others, and soon that entire section was engulfed in vivid ora
nge flames, the walls and floor scorched black and buckled. The soldiers had been reduced to less than ash, leaving no sign of their existence behind.
She refrained from giving voice to the savage glee she felt, and contented herself with an artistic pirouette that brought the nose of the ship thrusting toward the wide entrance. She released the grav-locks and sent the control surfaces flaring out around her ship. Each was capable of creating its own small gravitic fields, allowing her almost preternatural control of the ship’s movements through atmosphere or vacuum alike.
The Yud’ahm Na’uka soared out of the mouth of the primary docking bay and swept up and around the Red Tower. Taurani had not yet been able to scramble any competent resistance that she could see, and for the first time since that wretched scream in the administrator’s office announced Iphini Bha’s betrayal, she felt like they might be safe after all. If his control of the city’s defenses was no better than his control of the door to the docking bay, they really might have a chance.
A heavy diplomatic shuttle heaved up over the shoulder of the Red Tower. It bore the sigils of the Galactic Council, with flashings for the Kerie delegation: Taurani’s personal vehicle. It was against convention for such ships to be armed, but—
Bolts of energy sliced through the void and flashed past her, striking the flank of a tower behind.
Trust Taurani to arm his own diplomatic shuttle.
The thing was a heavy meat animal beside her sleek hunter, though. It was a move of desperation to send such a thing after a Tigan combat craft. She flipped the Na’uka on its right wing tip, control surfaces sliding around to provide just the right counter-thrust to pivot in place as she sailed forward, and raked the bottom of the startled shuttle with ravening lightning.
Legacy of Shadow Page 33