Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga (27 page)

One of the soldiers tried to key a nearby wall-mounted intercom, but Rene beat him there and slammed his fist into the man’s face. The trooper collapsed to the deck, unconscious before he hit the floor.

Taking their cue from the Cajun, the others rushed into the fray. One Horde trooper got off a lucky shot with his plasma rifle to Cherry’s chest, knocking her down, but she was back on her feet immediately and drove her boot into the soldier’s throat. Another soldier, unable to draw his weapon in the middle of the suffocating battle, punched Alex in the face and broke his hand on the unyielding metal. The trooper screamed and cradled his hand while Alex countered with a roundhouse kick to the side of his head.

The momentum of the kick brought Alex around and he finally realized what sort of door the soldiers had exited. “Lamont! The elevator!”

Lamont delivered a bone-crushing headbutt to a soldier attempting to shoot him with a corrosive gel rifle and whirled around to face Alex, his faceplate splattered with blood. “Get in!”

Alex pressed the “call” button and muttered to himself impatiently for a moment before the door slid open.

Lamont ran for the elevator and slapped Robert on the shoulder as he passed. “This is where we part ways.”

“You can count on us,” Robert said as he dodged a stray plasma blast. “Go save those kids.”

“Good luck,” said Lamont as the elevator doors closed, cutting him off from the battle and his teammates.

“You too,” Robert whispered.

To Robert’s left, Rene snapped a trooper’s neck and dropped the corpse unceremoniously to the ground with the others. “There. That’s the last of them.”

“Then let’s go.” Robert slapped him on the back and broke into a run. “Before more of these goons show up.”

Cherry wrinkled her nose as she stepped over the pile of unconscious and dead soldiers. Even with the suits’ air filters, the stench was unbearable. “God, they stink.”

“Obviously the Khan cares nothing for the health of his minions,” said Rene, running alongside her.

“Showing sympathy for the man whose neck you just broke?”

“Look,” Rene said, “I take no pleasure in killing, but the Germans showed me no mercy on Omaha Beach, nor did the Yankees offer me any kindness at Antietam.”

Cherry ran in silence for a moment, letting this sink in.

“War is unpleasant,
cher
,” the Cajun continued, “but we have a job to do, just as those men back there had theirs. We just did ours better.”

Robert nodded to himself as he ran. The life of a soldier may have been new to Cherry, her military service limited to being a peacetime medic, but he and Rene knew it well. In the centuries that he could remember, Robert Long had seen conflict ranging from the Battle of Waterloo to the Vietnam War. He’d still been coping with the horrors of ‘Nam when the Seignso came and took him and his comrades to that sweltering planet in the Zeta Reticuli system. Now, he found himself in a new war, but for the first time in a very long time, he actually
believed
in the cause he was fighting for.

“How much farther?” asked Cherry.

“It can’t be much,” said Robert. “We’ve been running forever.”

“Remind me to give that new Replodian a swift kick in the ass when we see him again,” said Rene. “That guy needs a hobby.”

“This
is
his hobby,” Cherry grumbled.

“I mean like stamp collecting.”

“There!” Robert pointed toward the end of the hallway. “It’s just ahead.”

They came to a halt in front of a large circular door at the end of the corridor. Rene raised his arm to fire his ion cannon, but Robert grabbed it at the last second and shook his head.

“Why not?” asked the Cajun.

“If they hear weapons firing, who knows what they’ll do?” Robert explained. “We need to think of something else. We need to surprise them.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Cherry pushed past the two men. “Just ring the friggin’ bell.”

“I like it,” said Rene. “Subtle, but effective.”

Cherry shook her head and pressed a green button on the intercom beside the door.

A few seconds later, a gruff, impatient voice filled the hallway and the helmets’ earpieces instantly translated,
“Yes? What is it?”

“Boudreaux’s Pizza,” called Rene in a singsong voice.

Cherry slapped her hand hard against the back of the Cajun’s helmet.

“What?”
asked the voice.

“Did you order the large sausage and mushrooms with extra goat cheese?” Rene said.

Cherry slapped him again. “Stop screwing around, you idiot.”

“I’m coming out,”
said the voice.

A few seconds later, the door’s iris spun open and a portly Mongolian holding a double-barreled gel pistol took a half-step through the door before stopping to stare at the TDC agents with their arms raised and ion cannons primed.

“Hi there,” said Rene. “You can keep the tip. We just want your ship.”

Slowly, the Mongol lifted his pistol.

“Don’t even think about it, Porky,” Cherry warned. “Drop it!”

The man continued to raise his pistol, obviously not understanding the English being shouted at him.

“Stop!” Rene fired a warning burst past the man’s head.

The green ion bolt screeched past the man’s ear and crashed through the
Ragnarok
’s windshield, filling the bridge with icy, whistling wind. The Mongol promptly dropped the pistol and thrust both hands into the air. The other six crewmembers wheeled around from their stations to watch the commotion.

“I think we have a little language barrier here,” said Rene. He stepped over the threshold and kept his aim on the bridge commander. “But you understood that just fine didn’t you, fatty?”

The Mongol grinned sheepishly and nodded his head.

“The rest of you get away from those consoles,” snapped Cherry. “Move it!”

With near zombie-like slowness, the unarmed technicians shuffled to the center of the room.

Cherry kept the techs covered with her arm cannon. “Now what do we do with them?”

Robert felt along his forearm with his fingers and scanned the heads-up display on his visor. “How the hell do you engage the stun function on these guns? Please tell me that lunatic included a stun function.”

Rene lashed out with a knife-hand strike to the base of the chubby Mongol’s neck and stood back as the man collapsed to the deck. Cherry and Robert stared at the fallen man for a moment before looking up at Rene.

Rene crossed his arms. “There’s your stun function.”

Cherry shook her head. “Barbarian.”

Rene merely stared back in silence.

“What?” said Cherry. “No clever comeback?”

“I’m trying to think of a really good one,” said Rene. “‘Nag’ just doesn’t seem to cover it anym—”

A huge explosion rocked the ship and the bridge was suddenly filled with flashing lights and blaring klaxons. The technicians erupted into a panic and ran back to their posts, chattering so fast the suits’ translators couldn’t keep up.

“What’s happening?” Cherry yelled over the din. The ship pitched, and she nearly lost her balance.

“The engines!” Rene exclaimed.

A few moments later, a panicked transmission filled their helmets and confirmed Rene’s theory.
“Out! Everybody out, now!”

“Evacuate,” Robert ordered. “Move it, people! Double time!”

Rene promptly fired his arm cannon into the long windshield, melting large holes in the thick glass. “Let’s go!”

“Wait!” Cherry grabbed him by the arm and pointed at the technicians. “What about them?”

But the crew wasn’t interested in being rescued as they ran screaming from the room.

“Forget them,” said Rene. “Get moving!”

The Cajun pushed off the deck, and his boot thrusters roared to life, launching him out of the
Ragnarok
with the others on his heels. Once above the rapidly descending ship, they watched as fire and smoke poured from the rear of the ship. With systems failing all over, the
Ragnarok
’s cloaking field flickered erratically until it was fully visible.

“I hope Moe and Samrai got out in time,” Robert said.

Just then, two silver-clad figures flew out of the emergency hatch on the bottom of the ship mere inches ahead of a spewing white cloud.

“Look!” Cherry pointed at the rapidly approaching figures. “It’s them!”

Moments later, Sam and Moe hovered in front of the Methuselans.

“Wooo!”
Sam cheered. “Do I know how to throw a party, or what?”

“Mon Dieu!”
Rene pointed over the Replodian’s shoulder. “Look!”

“Yes,” said Sam smugly. “It
is
impressive, if I do say so myself.”

“Not that,” Rene shouted. “Look!”

“What is it
now
, Frenchy?” Sam turned, following the Cajun’s gaze. What he saw made his blood run cold.

The
Ragnarok
, smoking and spewing both flames and ice, was heading straight for the small town of Keosauqua, or more specifically the bridge on the south side of town. A school bus — the driver oblivious to the crippled monstrosity bearing down from above — approached the bridge from the north.

“What have I done?” breathed Sam.

“We’ve got to do something,” said Cherry.

“Damn straight.” Sam engaged his boot thrusters.

“We have to keep traffic off the bridge,” said Robert. “Rene, Cherry, you come with me.”

*****

Sam landed on the street in front of the bridge and waved his arms at the bus, but the driver was too busy reprimanding rowdy children to notice the armor-clad alien until the bus was practically on top of him. The driver slammed on the brakes, but it was far too late. The front of the bus struck the Replodian and knocked him flat on his back before coming to a skidding halt on the bridge.

The driver opened the door and ran to the front of the bus, sputtering, “Oh, my God! I didn’t see you. Are you all r— What the hell?”

Sam got to his feet and pointed at the bus. “Back this bus up! Get it off the bridge now!”

The deafening roar of the descending
Ragnarok
filled the air, and the ship struck the bridge in an explosion of concrete and twisted metal. One of the wings swept the northernmost support out from under the bridge, and the ground beneath Sam’s feet dropped sharply. The shrieks of over thirty terrified children joined the cacophony created by the
Ragnarok
, which was still grinding along the bed of the Des Moines River. Sam fired his boot thrusters and pushed against the front of the bus, trying to push it back onto level ground. The bus driver screamed as the road slanted and he slid on his back toward the river, which was now nothing but flaming, jagged debris.

Sam reached for the driver, his fingers mere inches out of reach.
“No!”

A silver streak swooped through the air and grabbed the flailing driver under the arms.

“I’ve got you,” said Moe. “Don’t worry.”

“Y-you g—” the driver stuttered, looking down at the ground whizzing past below his kicking feet.
“Huh?”

Sam grunted as the section of bridge under the bus’s front wheels fell away, leaving the full weight on his shoulders. Slowly, the bus slid farther down, the bottom of the frame scraping against the jutting concrete ledge. The Replodian boosted the power to his thrusters, and watched the power gauge drop steadily from the exertion.

The sound of breaking glass drew Sam’s attention up to the windshield. A little blond-haired girl of around six years old was lying against the glass, shrieking as the crack in the window slowly spider-webbed outward. Several yellow dots lit up Sam’s heads-up display: stress points in the glass.

“Hang on, sweetie,” Sam said, trying his best to sound calm. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Just then, the thrusters failed momentarily, and the bus dropped another few feet. The girl shrieked as the force of her second impact against the safety glass caused it to bow outward. Tiny fragments of glass rained on Sam’s armor.

“Hold on!” Sam shouted, increasing the thrusters’ power to maximum.

“I’m coming, Sam,”
Moe’s voice rang out over the comm channel.

“Hurry!”

The back tires bumped against the edge of the concrete, briefly stopping the bus’s descent. The jarring impact caused the windshield to pull free of its frame, sending the shrieking girl plummeting, but this time, Sam was faster and snatched the girl’s wrist.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he gasped, holding the entire bus up on one shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

Suddenly, the weight lifted slightly from his shoulder and a welcome and familiar voice sounded in his ear,
“I’ve got your back, bro.”

The little girl squealed and kicked in the air, her little fingers clinging desperately to Sam’s forearm. Stinging sweat dripped into his eyes. The girl’s wrist slipped between his fingers, and Sam knew he couldn’t hold both her
and
the bus much longer. Then a pair of silver hands appeared in front of his eyes, and the bus lifted up a little bit more.

“Take the girl,” said Cherry. “I’ll hold the bus.”

Sam considered this, taking note of the rapidly dropping power levels of his thrusters, but decided against it. Cherry’s inexperience with the armor’s functions was a liability. No one knew the suits better than him.

“No,” he said. “You take her and get her somewhere safe.”

“You’re hurt,” Cherry replied. “I can tell.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Don’t argue. Just do it. I can hold it.”

Cherry hesitated, trying to read him through the black visor.

“Hurry,” he grunted, his voice tired and pleading. “Please.”

Reluctantly, Cherry released the bus, settling the weight back onto Sam’s shoulder, and dropped down to hover beside the frightened girl.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she said, holding out her hands.

The girl’s eyes widened as she stared at the flying woman reaching for her and she looked up at Sam questioningly.

Sam nodded. “It’s okay, sweetie. She’s my friend.”

Cherry wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist, and the child settled onto her hip. With his arm free, Sam slammed his hand back onto the front of the bus. The suddenness of the movement startled the girl, and she squealed, clinging to Cherry’s neck.