Authors: Margaret Weis
The mind-dead,
armed with lasguns and beam rifles, were swarming out of the ravaged
forest, advancing steadily on his plane and his alone, paying no
attention to the other space-planes—the lady's and those
belonging to her commandos— parked nearby.
"They're
after the bomb," guessed Tusk. "And us stuck down here,
sitting ducks."
Nola fired,
drove the mind-dead back. Only for a moment. Tusk made up his mind.
"I'm going
out there. Maybe I can knock the drive loose. That's what I did the
last time this happened."
"What?"
Nola let go of the gun, made a grab for him, missed. "Tusk!"
She tumbled down the ladder. "That's insane! You'll get yourself
killed!"
"What're
our odds if I don't, sweetheart? You keep me covered. With our
firepower, they won't get close."
Grabbing a beam
rifle and as many grenades as he could carry, Tusk kissed her swiftly
on the cheek and was gone before she could hang on to him.
Another shot hit
the spaceplane, right above where she was standing. Nola ducked,
shielding her head. Bits of plastisteel and twisted metal rained down
on top of her. When it cleared, she looked up into the bubble. It was
no longer there.
"That . . .
that was the gun, Tusk!" she cried.
"Glad you
weren't with it, baby," Tusk said, starting up the ladder.
"But . . .
but . . ." She began to protest, looked at Tusk's face. Gulping,
she swallowed her words and the fear surging up inside her. "I'm
going with you. Give me the rifle."
Tusk shook his
head. He had reached the Scimitar's hatch. "Open up, XJ! It
wouldn't work, Nola. Someone's got to stay inside, fly the plane if I
get that mother knocked loose." Pausing, his hand on the hatch
controls, he looked at her intently. "You understand, Nola?
You've got to take this plane outta here, fast."
"You'll fly
it, Tusk. When you get back on board."
"There may
not be time for that, sweetheart."
She stared at
him, shaking her head. "No."
"You got
to. It's that simple. Look, I'll try to make it back, but if I don't,
we can't let them get hold of die bomb. When I give the word, take
off. You hear that, XJ?"
The computer's
lights dimmed. "Yes, Tusk," it said.
Tusk climbed the
ladder, pushed open the hatch, and was gone.
Xris and his
commandos had reached the planet's surface; their return trip
uneventful.
"Boring as
hell," Lee described it.
Several meters
from the exit, however, the cyborg brought his squad to a halt.
"What's
that?" Harry asked, listening. "Sounds like an explosion."
"Lascannon
fire," said Xris. Taking the twist out of his mouth, he looked
at it grimly, stuck it back in his pocket. "I thought this was
too easy. Looks like they plan on throwing us a going-away party.
C'mon."
The sound of
lascannon fire nearly drowned out every other noise, but in between
rounds, they heard blasts of answering fire.
"That's a
Scimitar's gun. I'd recognize that weird whine they make anywhere,"
Bernard said, puzzled. "What's a Scimitar doin' out there?"
"It is as I
said," stated Raoul, "the young king has arrived. He and
his friends are under attack." He paused, listened to the Little
One. "I beg your pardon. The Little One says that the young king
is not there. His friends alone are being attacked by mind-dead."
"Yeah, well
pardon me if I don't trust the Little One. I'll go see for myself."
Xris ran to the
entrance into the mounds. Craning his head, he risked a look. After a
moment he motioned. The others hurried up to join him.
"That's
what's coming down, all right. There's a small army out there."
Xris took the twist from his pocket, stuck it in his mouth, and lit
it. "They've left our planes alone, though, at least. For the
time being."
"What's
that Scimitar doin' still on the ground? Why don't the guy take off?"
Harry demanded.
"The Little
One says that there is something wrong with the plane."
Bernard squinted
to see. "Yeah, that must be it. Look, the pilot's coming out.
Gonna try to fix it, I'll bet."
Safe in the
tunnel's sheltering darkness, they watched the Scimitar's hatch pop
open. A human male pulled himself out. Sliding down the ladder, he
stopped at the bottom, fired off several rounds from the beam rifle
he carried.
The mind-dead,
surging across the open stretch of land between forest and the
Scimitar, paused, hit the ground or ran for cover.
"Bastards're
using our planes to hide behind," commented Harry. "I don't
much like that. Good way to get our planes shot up."
The pilot ceased
his fire, dashed around to the front of the spaceplane, crouched down
beneath the underbelly. They could see him under the plane, peering
at something.
"That's
it," Xris commented, watching. "When it doesn't work, give
it a good, swift kick."
"Anti-grav's
stuck," said Lee. "Happens all the time to those old
Scimitars. I heard they fixed it in the new ones."
The mind-dead
dashed forward, beam rifle aimed directly at the pilot. Laser bursts
flared around him, sparks showered down over him. The pilot hugged
the ground, covering his head with his arms.
"They got
him."
"No. No,
they didn't. He's back up again. Looks like he's got help."
Another person
appeared at the Scimitar's hatch. Beam rifle bursts forced the
mind-dead to take cover. The pilot was kicking frantically at the
jammed unit, began to beat on it with the butt end of the beam rifle.
The mind-dead
fell back momentarily, but it was only to regroup, make a change in
plans, shift their aim.
Harry, Lee, and
Bernard exchanged glances.
"He's never
gonna make it."
"We could
help. Hell, they're not paying any attention to us."
They looked at
Xris, who was staring grimly out the tunnel exit.
"The other
person, the one covering him. It's a woman," said Lee.
"Girlfriend,
maybe," Bernard commented.
"Or his
wife," said Xris quietly, unexpectedly. He put the twist in his
mouth, activated his weapons arm. "Give me five, then take off,
get to the planes. They're our ticket off this blasted rock.
Understand? You two"—he looked at Raoul and his
companion—"stay here until the area's cleared, then run
like hell."
Raoul nodded
complacently. "Yes, I think it would be wise for us to stay
here." He glanced down at his companion, who was whimpering into
the fedora. "The Little One finds this all highly disturbing."
"What're
you gonna do, boss?" Lee asked.
"Kick that
damn Scimitar off the ground, if I have to. Ready? All right. I'm
moving out. Don't shoot until it looks like they've spotted me."
"Boss,"
said Bernard, grinning. "This ain't in the contract."
"Yeah, it
is," said Xris, taking the twist from his mouth and tossing it
away. "Like the lady says, you've got to read the fine print."
Head down, Xris
ran full tilt across the ground toward the Scimitar. The cybernetic
part of his body operated smoothly, efficiently, the human half moved
awkwardly, but kept up easily, sometimes seeming even determined to
outrun the machine half.
The mind-dead
caught a glimpse of him. A few turned their heads.
Xris's commandos
shot out of the tunnel, yelling, drawing the enemy's attention.
Blasting a hole in the line of mind-dead, they caught most of them
completely by surprise, cut them down before they had a chance to see
what was killing them from this unexpected direction.
But the attack
foiled to divert the zombies from their single-minded purpose, given
to them by their master. They continued to advance on the Scimitar.
The only thing that caused them to stop was death.
Lee peered
through the blasts of laser fire, smoke, and sparks, saw Xris dive
for cover beneath the belly of the spaceplane. Then the mind-dead
closed in around the Scimitar and he lost sight of the cyborg and the
pilot.
"Come on!"
Bernard grabbed him. "Get to the planes! It's our only chance.
Look what's coming!"
Lee looked,
thought for a moment the woods had caught fire. But it wasn't. It was
the Corasians.
Xris ducked
beneath the Scimitar's sheltering wing. Two rockets, launched from
his weapons hand, exploded in the midst of the mind-dead, decimating
their ranks, creating a momentary lull in their fire. The cyborg
raced around to the plane's belly, crawled under. He found the
pilot—a black human male—lying facedown on the ground. A
pool of blood spread beneath him.
Shaking his head
grimly, figuring the guy was dead, Xris turned his attention to the
anti-grav unit, wondered what the hell it was he was looking at. He
knew nothing about Scimitars.
". . .
stuck," came a weak voice.
Xris glanced
down. The pilot had rolled over onto his side. His hands were clasped
over his chest, blood welled out from between the fingers. His face
was twisted in pain, the black skin glistened.
"Kick it .
. . there," he said, lifting a shaking finger, pointing.
Xris nodded, no
sense in wasting words. Turning back, he aimed, slammed the
cybernetic foot into the jammed part. It didn't budge, didn't even
wiggle. Laser fire burst around him. Two grenades, tossed by the
woman up above in the hatch, drove the zombies back.
Xris kicked the
device again. No dice. Turning away, he reached down, took hold of
the wounded pilot.
"What are
you doing?" the man gasped. "You got to . . . keep trying!"
"It's stuck
good and tight, brother. If this leg of mine won't knock it loose,
nothing will. And we've got a better chance inside than out here."
"You
maybe," said the pilot, trying to smile. "Not me. Go on.
Leave me. Go . . . take care of Nola."
"What's
your name?"
Tusk."
"You a
doctor, Tusk?" Xris grunted.
Tusk started to
protest. The cyborg wrapped the remnants of the pilot's flight suit
around him, hauled him up. Tusk groaned in agony, and passed out.
"Just as
well," Xris said to himself. "This is going to be a rough
trip."
He balanced the
pilot's limp body over his left shoulder, clasped the strong
cybernetic arm firmly around his legs, then dashed out from beneath
the plane. Running around to reach the ladder, he began to climb. The
woman, seeing him coming, crawled out onto the spaceplane's hull,
flopped down on her stomach, poured a continuous stream of laser fire
into the mind-dead below.
The cyborg
didn't have time to be gentle. The body across his shoulder bounced,
flaccid arms dangling down behind. Xris's clothes were wet with
blood.
"If you're
lucky, you'll be dead by the time we get inside," Xris told the
unconscious man grimly.
A shot slammed
into the.cyborg's leg, nearly knocked him from the ladder. He held
on, continued to climb. They'd hit his artificial leg. Fortunately,
they hadn't hit the battery pack.
Xris made it to
the hatch. The woman ceased firing, slung die beam rifle over her
shoulder, reached to help. Her face went white when she saw the
injured man, but she stayed calm, composed.
"Get
below," Xris instructed. "I'll hand him down to you."
The woman
nodded, did as he told her. Capable, gentle hands caught hold of the
wounded man, lowered him to the deck.
"Toss me
the rifle," Xris ordered.
The woman did
so. The cyborg fired several bursts, stayed in the hatchway long
enough to make certain his men reached their planes safely. He saw
the Corasians, but their advance had been halted by, ironically, the
mind-dead. The Corasians had stopped to feed off the bodies of their
allies.
Satisfied, Xris
slid down, shut and sealed the hatch.
"Who is it?
What's going on?" came a voice from the front of the plane.
Xris stared into
the cockpit, saw nothing, heard no sounds of any living being. "Who
the hell's that?"
"Plane's
computer," said the woman in an undertone. "It's all right,
XJ," she called out. "Just . . . Tusk, coming back. He
brought help."
"Tusk!
What's that worthless excuse for a pilot doing inside here? He didn't
get that anti-grav knocked loose yet! Send him up. I want a word with
him."
"He ... he
can't come right now, XJ," said the woman. "Give him time
to catch his breath."
"I'll let
him catch his breath all right," snapped the computer viciously.
"Five minutes, Tusk!"
"The
mind-dead will probably storm the plane," Nola told Xris, not
looking up at him, doing what she could to make the wounded man
comfortable. "We have a space-rotation bomb on board and they
want it."
"Yeah, so I
heart!," Xris said. "I don't think they'll get very for.
You hear that racket out there? Those're my men, getting set to take
off. Once they're airborne, they'll drop a few bombs themselves, make
it tough for anything to survive long out there."
The woman looked
up at him, smiled briefly, then turned back to the injured man, who
had regained consciousness. She placed a pillow beneath his head and
attempted, gently, to move the hands clutched over his chest and
stomach.
"Don't,
Nola," said Tusk softly. "It's bad. Real bad. Just . . .
leave it . . . alone."
"Oh, Tusk!"
she whispered and buried her face in his shoulder.
He attempted a
smile, tried to say something. His voice choked, his face twisted in
agony. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.
Nola heard, felt
his pain, held him closer, as if she could hold him together.
Xris saw, near
him, a storage compartment marked with a red cross. He rummaged in
it, found what he wanted. Even then, he waited a moment longer to go
back.