“Mist, you already know.” The ivory Fisher gave him a pleased smile. She, too, had opted for a dark colored jumpsuit, though hers was as sleek as her own pelt.
“We call this feller Songbird, because he rarely has anything to say.” Skal nudged the lanky being on his right. Songbird gave Jack a look through eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was a mottled brown, and wore only shorts, with a weapons belt. However, he balanced on his forearm a wicked looking, bastardized laser rifle. Jack gave it a second look.
“And for our lucky sixth, Little Fish here. Even for one of us, she’s very quick and supple.”
Jack smiled at the small and lithe Fisher. She was a light brown, almost the color of Amber’s hair. Instead of reaching out to shake his hand, she did a cartwheel in place, then looked at him, whiskers twitching.
“You’re aptly named,” he told her.
“So are you,” she giggled.
“What?” Jack asked, turning around, as Skal snorted and Mist frowned at the young female. “Do I have a Fisher name and nobody told me?”
Skal shrugged then. “Only when you’re wearing your suit.”
“What is it?”
“Little Sun,” Mist told him. She pointed a finger at Little Fish. “Get armored and remember, young one, that the future of your people depends on what we do tonight.”
Jack looked down at himself. The Flexalinks twinkled in the night. He did, he supposed, look like a sun or a moon. There had been some amusement connected with the nickname, but he figured he was better off not knowing what had triggered Fisher humor. He pointed at the bundles of Enduro bracers he and Skal had lifted from the operations warehouse. “I’m fully armored, but I won’t take you in unless you’re protected, too. There is enough equipment for all of you. Then we’ll pass out weapons.”
“I don’t use any,” Mist said quickly, echoed by Songbird who grunted, “Got my own.”
The familiar tension began to run up Jack’s spine as Hooker and Little Fish leaned over and eagerly began pawing through the equipment. It had begun, once again.
Amber woke at the pounding on the front door. She frowned in the darkness and then remembered. She’d gone to sleep dressed, just in case. A look at her watch told her it was nearly dawn, though the sky was overcast and still dark. She swung out of her bed, grabbed her duffel, and went to answer the door.
The men standing outside wore slicks. They stood hunched over in the train, but Amber said, “I’m all ready to go.” She shut the door behind them and followed them to the massive skimmer tied up at the veranda, hovering just above the high water.
She twisted back a second, saying a mental good-bye to the nicest home she’d ever had, wondering if it would withstand what Jack had planned. They were upriver, though. Maybe it would. Maybe she’d be back, briefly.
The gullwing doors of the skimmer opened. One of the her escort grabbed her by the elbow, guiding her to the back seat. As she leaned in, and froze, the man said, “She was expecting someone. She was no trouble at all.”
Amber doubled over as the stunner blast hit her in the chest, losing her wind and most of her bile. She had the satisfaction of seeing it spew in the face of the man who reached for her even as she passed out, thinking that he’d had to come to the end of the galaxy to find her—and he’d done it.
Rolf pulled the limp girl over his lap and slammed the door shut against the wind and the rain. “Let’s get her out of here,” he snapped, and the skimmer took off, bucking against the air pockets.
They ran across the top of the dam. Jack felt the concrete vibrate with the weight of the water against it, and the roar of the turbines below. He made an effort not to look to his right, where the fall to the valley and the river bed was immense. Songbird led the way, his bastardized rifle gripped tightly in his hands.
Overhead, the sky lashed out in a predawn storm. Lightning crackled, sheets of it, ripping the night apart. But no rain. Just sound and fury.
Songbird came to an abrupt halt as a floodgate worker loomed ahead. The Fishers stood, nose to nose, the worker’s hackles raised in surprise.
“We’ve weapons and you’ve none. Leave now, while you can,” Hooker growled, as Songbird quietly drew a bead.
The worker hesitated. He looked at the six of them, his stare boring into Jack as though he could see into his faceplate by sheer determination.
He turned and bolted. Songbird’s laser shot missed, and the supple Fisher dove headfirst down the ladder leading into the interior works of the massive dam.
Little Fish dove after him, but came up empty-handed.
Skal sucked his sharp white teeth. “That’ll do it,” he said. “He’ll bring more out after us.”
“Then we’d better set the charges.” Jack waved Hooker over and gave him the plastique and detonators. Not the most sophisticated of explosives, but ample for this job.
Mist touched Jack. He could feel her concern even through the suit. “We agreed to try to get the workers out.”
“So we did and so we will … unless they come after our hides.” Jack handed another charge to little Fish, admonishing her, “Now you be careful with that.”
“I will! Where do you want it?”
“On the wall where we talked about. You’ll have to go over with a rope.”
She nodded. Some of the more dangerous placements had been assigned to her on her insistence. She had, after all, the natural ability to be able to handle them. Jack watched her skipping off.
He gave a charge and detonator to Songbird. “You’ve got the speed. We need this just above the last floodgate.”
Songbird shook his head. “No. Guard door.” He pointed his laser rifle at the portal where the worker had disappeared.
“No. If they come, they come. I’ll handle them. We need this charge planted and Hooker’s too heavy to run the distance.”
Songbird hesitated. Then, with a snarl across his lean face, he took the explosives and ran off. Jack watched him go, wondering what fires of hatred burned in the Fisher’s soul, then turned back. Mist said, “They’re coming. I can feel them.”
As used as he was to Amber’s flashes of intuition, Jack shivered. He pointed across the way they’d come. “Go back, to high ground.”
“No,” she protested. Skal made a grunt and his whiskers flattened. “You must go. You’re an Elder, and Jack is right. Hurry!”
The slim, cream female hesitated, then turned and raced off into the graying edge of the storm. Lightning sizzled and thunder cracked above them as she left.
Just before dawn, the contingent of workers boiled out of the portal, armed and shielded to the teeth. Skal let out a curse as Jack cocked his fist, left with no choice but to fight. His heartbeat quickened.
They were caught in a cross fire between him, Skal, Hooker and Songbird. They climbed up and fell, their bodies pushed aside by their teammates coming up from below, like ants boiling out of a hill. Jack laid down a spray of fire, orange against the midnight blue of the storm, and tried not to hear the mourning cries of the Fishers as they killed their fellows.
But it was a cork that couldn’t be put back in the bottle. The shields came up, and the fire deflected. Hooker died first, with a snarl snapped off in mid-cry. His heavy form thudded to the concrete dam.
Jack vaulted, landing in front of Skal. “Use me for a shield,” he ordered. “Back off after Mist. Then run like hell and don’t stop.”
“No.”
“Get out of here, dammit.”
“The cause is not lost yet.”
Songbird let out a warbling cry as his laser charge ran out. In a frenzy, he ran headfirst into the attackers. Four of them collided with him, and they rolled off the high side of the dam, into foaming waters that sucked them down. Jack looked, briefly, thanking the gods that were, for not letting them fall down the long drop.
His rearview camera caught sight of Little Fish clinging to that long drop. She peered up over the edge cautiously. The last charge had been set, then.
&n
bsp; “Get out of here, Skal,” Jack repeated. “Get little Fish and go!”
“What?”
“The charges are set. Now get out!” Jack picked Skal up by the scruff of his neck and threw him down the length of the dam, where Little Fish caught his barreling body. The two of them staggered to their feet in astonishment, then turned and ran, laser fire banked at Jack’s chest, a ball of fire exploding off the Flexalinks.
Jack stepped back, out of the wash. He felt a reflection of the heat. He fired back.
Then a reeling lash of pain pierced him. He lost control of the armor and went to his knees. The shields went down. Jack rolled in pain.
Pain. Pain. Kill.
Dimly, Jack heard the voice as he twisted to his side. Bogie! Amber’s control was gone. But why would Bogie feel the pain?
“No, Bogie. No pain. You don’t have to feel the pain,” Jack got out. He spied the Fishers gathering up nerve for a rush. Enough bodies, and he’d go over the edge. He fought for control over the suit’s movements. What had happened to Amber? Bloodlust roiled in him.
All right, Boss. No pain. We fight today. Jack stood up. He cocked the gauntlet. The wall of sleek-pelted beings faced him, their eyes gleaming with excitement and fear. More of them boiled out of the dam’s interior. He was the enemy. And more than that—he was their predator.
Jack Bogie felt a hunger for their blood. To hear their death agonies as nerves seared and bones cracked and souls fled. He swallowed, bile at the back of his throat. “No! I won’t kill today!” he grated out. Jack hesitated, then laid down a spray of fire at their feet, driving them back. He had the radio transmitter. The charges were set … his job here was done. He could retreat and trigger the detonators.
As he looked at their faces, he knew that they wouldn’t let him go easily … nor did he want to draw them after Mist, Skal and Little Fish.
He took a step forward. The suit fought him, resulting in a shuddering, lumbering, movement that took him close to the edge of the dam.
“Let go, Bogie.”
The Fishers straightened. They raised their shields and lasers, preparing to charge.
“Now, Bogie. Let me have charge now.”
Live, die, live… The suit gyrated in confusion, then, with a snap, Jack found himself in control.
He chinned the amplifiers on and charged, letting out a war cry meant to curdle the blood of the listening Fishers. The ones who didn’t break and run immediately got laser hotfeet that convinced them to join the pack. Screaming at the top of his lungs and letting out staccato bursts of fire, Jack drove them off the dam to safety.
As he ran, he wondered what had happened to Amber. What could have happened?
He reeled to a stop as Bogie answered his unasked question, answered it with a spear of pain, anger, and bloodlust. His mind, no longer his own, exploded. The suit ground to a halt and stood, convulsing, in the center of the dam. Jack fought to regain control of himself.
He hit the transmitter.
Lightning forked the dawn sky, still velvet black with storm. Thunder boomed, echoed by the explosions. The concrete trembled under his feet. He had but a second as the dam opened up, shards of concrete and tons of water crashing into him.
With a scream, Jack plunged down the long fall of the dam riding the crest of the breaking water.
Chapter 22
Amber woke. Her teeth and tongue were furred and she swallowed the acrid burn of bile in her throat. She stirred, cautiously, pins and needles in her wrists and ankles, before her thoughts began to uncloud. Then she stiffened. Rolf! Rolf had her!
Her eyes fluttered open. How long had she been out? She lay face down on vomit-stained upholstery. Her hair fanned out lankly about her head. She felt a bucking movement, then realized she still rode in the limo compartment of a skimmer. Amber turned her face, and saw the man sitting in the seat opposite her.
“Like your friend, eh? Never out for long. Long enough though, girl. I have you this time. And while you’re awake, I warn you … kill me and your friend will follow me soon after.”
Amber glared. She struggled to sit up, awkwardly, since her hands were bound behind her back. Rolf lounged opposite her, as elegant as ever in a Shakra tigersilk shirt and circulation-pinching black leather pants. He was handsome in a brutish way, Amber thought, and ducked her chin down, afraid of Rolf reading her thoughts in the old way he always used to seem to have. She preferred sandy blond hair, washed-out blue eyes, high cheekbones, a plain but honest face.
But she faced Rolf again. She had to, if only to keep a watchful eye on him. The man took a long drag of his smoke, and she smelled the drug in it faintly, and watched the blue-gray smoke curl out of his flared nostrils.
Lightning crackled. Its white light pierced the tinted screening on the windows of the luxury skimmer. Amber jerked to attention, remembering the dam and Jack’s intentions.
“Where are you taking me?”
“I have a luxury suite reserved for us. The emperor of this world, a nice little beast, is very hospitable. We’ll be in a wing of the International Hotel, as his guests.”
In the capital, where Jack had estimated the brunt of the water would flood. Amber struggled. “No, you can’t. Not there.”
Rolf let an eyebrow peak. “And why not, my dear? Surely even a gutter tart like you should realize the hazards of refusing a barbaric ruler. Besides, this place looks … promising. I might extend my field of operations somewhat.”
Amber bit her lip. She looked out the window and saw the boil of water down below … white, angry water, rushing in a tide down the riverbed, and knew she was already too late to affect the blowing of the dam. But old Shining fur-grinning tooth was still going to be in for the shock of his life … unless Rolf radioed ahead and warned him.
She looked back to Rolf, knowing that she might be diving headfirst into a drowning tide, and smiled. “Just get me out of here,” she lied. “The sooner the better. I’m beginning to mildew.”
Rolf smiled widely. “It’s been a long year, my dear—but I’m beginning to appreciate it. Jack Storm has taken some of the edges off you, hasn’t he? Yes. I’m beginning to appreciate it.”
Amber held his gaze levelly, praying that the driver and Rolf wouldn’t be able to tell the thunder of the gathering rainclouds from the rumble of the deathwall of water.
Jack fell. He nearly lost the contents in his stomach tumbling in midair. He pulled his arms out of the sleeves, hit the pressurization switch, and then wrapped his arms about his head, praying he wouldn’t smash when he hit the rocks. The water roared all around him, carrying him, and when he hit, his neck snapped, but held.
He saw the water roar over him. The flood carried him willy-nilly, slamming him this way and that, buffeting him wildly. Too scared to know if he were upside down or inside out, he held out, his fingers laced together at the back of his neck.
Bogie whimpered. Cold.
Cold was death to the alien presence.
“Me, too,” Jack said. He felt a childlike nudging inside his thoughts. Jack took pity on the sentience even as he pitched forward in the dark, churning-waters. The suit’s lighting winked unsteadily, then went out, as they slammed into a wall—of earth? Or the river bottom? He didn’t know. The collision slowed their slide a moment. Jack took a deep breath.
He was helpless until he knew which way was up and out. If the power vault would even work under the weight of the floodtide. He cracked headfirst into an obstacle. His neck popped in agony. Then his right leg pinched. Jack whirled around, held by whatever gripped his leg, slowly, but surely, crushing the Flexalinks. Another few seconds, and the integrity of the suit would give way.
Jack opened his mouth in agony as his leg snapped, the bone crushed. Then, suddenly, the weight gave way and they were borne away again. Pain squeezed tears out of his eyes.
Hurt, boss.
Jack couldn’t respond coherently to that. Then, suddenly, his leg felt warm and damp. Oh, shit, he told himself. A compound fractur
e. He was going to bleed to death inside the suit.
The alien nudging shifted suddenly. It left the cavity of Jack’s thoughts. Jack panicked as his knee tickled, even as his leg throbbed in agony. Then, he felt nothing. Below the knee, he was stone numb. Jack dropped his chin, fighting to look down inside the suit, to see. “What have you done!” he screamed. “What the frack have you done to my leg!”
The berserker climbed back into his thoughts, sated. Fixed it, boss. It’s growing.
Cautiously, Jack flexed his toes. Then tightened his calf muscles and let them go slack quickly, as he awakened a tender pain. Growing? Healing, maybe. And he’d thought the bastard had eaten his leg off.
He had little time to think further, as the suit spun him around, and then they dropped through the air again. When they hit, the impact knocked all thought out of Jack, and his mind grew dark. Bogie whimpered and held on a little tighter.
Mist clung to Skal, even as the three of them clung to the rocks. The very ground shuddered under the fury of the water. They watched as the shining sun of Jack’s suit fell into blackness far below them. Skal shuddered, and his tail twitched in agony.
“A hero’s death,” he said to Mist, in Fisher talk.
But Mist saw the pearly suit bounce back up and shoot along the crest of the wall of water. “No,” she whispered back. “He lives. You must follow him, my son, in the stranger’s flying machine. He lives yet.”
Skal straightened. He did not question the female’s wisdom. She knew many things that he would never know.
As he climbed toward where the skimmer was still precariously perched, Mist-off-the-waters and Little Fish stared up at him.
“I will send to you,” Mist said, “if I feel that we have lost him.”
Solar Kill Page 20