entire commando attack force was now inside the crater and they separated in all directions, swooping around like angry mosquitoes, firing at anything that moved. The heaviest concentration of defenders was around the submarine, trying to protect it, but already its hull was blackened from pulser blasts and there had been at least one direct hit on the rear of the sub. The aft section had been ruptured by a grenade set on minimal intensity. But as each commando flew down to strafe it, a heavy barrage of laser and pulser fire filled the air above and there were many casualties.
Somewhere down there, Forrester knew, were Delaney, Cross and Priest. If they were still alive. A lot of his people were getting hit. He didn’t want to lose any more.
“Set down!” he shouted over the corn-circuit. “Set down! Red Squad, secure the buildings on the side opposite the docks! Blue Squad, take the high ground on the same side and trap them between you, hammer and anvil! Green Squad, take the rocks on the far side past the main buildings! Gold Squad, follow me down to the rock cover near the docks!”
Finn took his disruptor and sprayed a blast of neutrons at the roof of the elevator, opening up a hole for them to jump through. He went first, followed by Andre, then Land, then Martingale and Lucas. Finn went out first into the hall, firing his disruptor as he ran. There wasn’t much resistance. Most of Drakov’s people were outside, engaging the attack force. The few men they encountered opened up on them, but against the disruptors, even auto-pulsers made poor weapons. The plasma blasts disintegrated as they ran into the neutron spray and in moments, Drakov’s people were retreating.
“You were right,” Finn told Martingale. “It’s a lovely little sidearm, this warp gun.”
“Drakov’s got too much of a lead on us,” said Lucas. “Come on, let’s make a run for the tender.”
They sprinted through the building, firing as they ran, taking a chance that they wouldn’t catch any fire from the corridors and chambers to their sides. They made it to the building entrance and kept right on going, running full tilt toward the docks. The Valkyrie was in flames. Several buildings on the opposite side of the lake were burning, sending up clouds of smoke. They heard men screaming as they burned, caught between the flames and the commandos. One cable span bridge had been utterly destroyed, the other dangled by a single support over the lake like a broken toy. Black smoke was coming from the Nautilus.
A plasma blast struck the ground before them as they ran, bursting into a cloud of flame. Martingale was caught in the wash. He caught fire as he ran through it, screaming, moving on like a flaming juggernaut.
Finn tackled him and started rolling him over and over in the sand, heaping sand upon him and trying to snuff out the flames. Lucas, Andre and Ned Land ran on. A laser beam lanced across their path. Andre was able to react quickly enough to leap over it and roll, coming up running, but Land was caught by it and cut in half. He fell to the ground in two parts, screaming horribly and writhing. There was nothing anyone could do. Lucas swore, pointed his disruptor at him and fired. The screams ceased.
They were dressed like Drakov’s men and the commandos had no way of telling who they were at a distance. They were being fired upon by their own people. Andre was pinned down, having scrambled for cover behind a large outcropping of rocks near the lake. Only her constant firing of her disruptor kept the plasma blasts from cooking her. Lucas fell down beside her and saw where a group of Drakov’s men had set up a firing base in one of the storage buildings near the tender, protecting the submarine. As they watched, several men came out on the deck of the Nautilus, casting her loose from the tender.
“He’s getting away!” said Andre.
Two of the men on deck were killed. Lucas fired his disruptor at the others and they were briefly shrouded in blue mist, then they disintegrated. But the sub had already started to drift loose from the tender.
“No,” said Lucas, gritting his teeth. “No, God damn it, no!”
One of the hatches on the deck of the Nautilus sprang open. Lucas jumped and ran across the beach, sprinting toward the tender. Andre laid down covering fire for him as he ran with all the speed he had, screaming to get the adrenaline rush going. As he ran across the dock, leaping from it to the tender, a shower of flame and splinters erupted behind him and lie felt the heat wash from the pulser blast as it destroyed the dock. Without breaking stride, he tucked the disruptor into his jumpsuit and leaped for the sub. He just barely made the deck and he scrambled for a hold, then was almost trampled by the men who came running out of the hatch to dive into the water. They didn’t pay any attention to him. All they wanted was to get off the sub, which was in flames and taking on water.
Several more pulser blasts struck the submarine as Lucas dove through the hatch, sliding down on the handrails. His feet hit water at the bottom. It was up to his knees and rising fast. Smoke was everywhere. Several of the oil lines had ruptured and were spraying scalding hot, pressurized oil across the companionway. The watertight hatch before him was closed. He didn’t waste time trying to open it. He took out his disruptor, set it on spray, and fired.
“Captain, we must abandon ship!” cried Sasha, leaving his station at the helm.
“Sit back down!” said Drakov.
Unable to resist the conditioning, the Russian sailor returned to his post, looking around at the control room helplessly. Smoke was seeping in.
“Sir, we don’t dare submerge,” said one of the other crewmen. “We’re taking on too much water. We’ve been badly damaged. I’m shutting the reactor down.”
“Switch to diesel engines,” Drakov said.
“No!” shouted one of the other men. “It’s useless, don’t you see? We’ll die!”
He grabbed Drakov, but Shiro tossed him aside as if he weighed nothing. Water was now coming into the control room. Despite the immense strength of the submarine’s titanium double hulls, a pinpoint warp grenade explosion had caused a rupture and a spray had burst into the room, soaking down three of the men at the controls. They jumped at once and ran for the stairs leading to the hatch. Shiro turned to stop them, but Drakov called out, “Let them go! They’re useless now.”
At the words “Let them go,” the rest of the control room crew bolted.
“The key, Shiro!” Drakov said.
As they fought to get up the stairs, the Soviet sailors were caught in a blast of neutrons and ceased to exist.
Drakov inserted his key into the box containing the arming and firing mechanisms.
Lucas came sliding down the hatch, into the rapidly accumulating water on the control room floor.
With a snarl of rage and frustration, Drakov hit his warp disc and clocked out. Shiro had just inserted his key into the box.
“Don’t do it, Shiro,” Lucas said softly, aiming the disruptor at him.
Two coal-black eyes stared at him with loathing.
“It’s over,” Lucas said. “He’s deserted you. There’s no point in-”
Moving with dazzling swiftness, Shiro turned the key and flipped open the box. Lucas fired. Shiro’s atoms were scattered just as he was reaching for the buttons.
Lucas sloshed forward through the knee-deep water and gently closed the box, then took the keys out. He let his breath out slowly.
A glance at the indicators told him the reactor had been shut down. None of the missiles had been armed and all the silo hatches were still closed. But the attack was still continuing. He felt the sub shudder and roll and he was thrown into the water on the floor. For fear of exploding the missiles, they were using only the lowest setting on the warp grenades, using them as depth charges thrown into the water close to the sub, to rupture its hull. It was working very well. Blasts of water were coming in everywhere now and he had to fight his way through it to the ladder leading up to the hatch.
He tucked his disruptor inside his suit and climbed up, his feet slipping off the rungs. As he opened the hatch, he heard footsteps on the deck and before he could cry out a warning, a warp grenade came dropping down through the opening. He caught it, lunged through the hatchway and threw it as hard as he could out into the lake. The pinpoint blast went off, sending a gout of water up into the air. He looked up at Lieutenant Bryant, standing on the deck of the submarine, holding an auto-pulser pointed at him. Bryant lowered the weapon and without a flicker of expression, shrugged.
Lucas simply glared at him.
