a great deal of attention to their job, being more interested in playing a game that involved punching each other in the arm and laughing a lot. Yort humour, Frey supposed.
Trinica nodded towards the fence. 'Tell your golem to be subtle, hmm? Get us in quietly.'
He cocked his pistol. 'She doesn't really do subtle.'
He motioned to Crake, who said a few words to Bess. Bess strode out across the road, took hold of the bars of the fence, and with one huge pull she ripped them out. Metal screeched and twisted and snapped as she tugged at the bars, dragging a great section of the fence with her. By the time she'd torn a hole big enough for them to get through, she'd also destroyed the fence for ten metres to either side.
'So I see,' Trinica commented dryly.
The racket had attracted the attention of the Yorts in the guard tower, who were yelling and pointing at her. One of them began taking shots with his rifle. The bullets just bounced off Bess's armoured hump. Other guards on the ground were running over to investigate the source of the disturbance, rounding the edge of the warehouse. They skidded to a halt when they saw her, swore in Yortish, and then scrambled towards what cover they could find.
'Aren't we going to help her?' Crake urged, fidgeting anxiously. They were still crowded in the alleyway, unnoticed in the commotion.
'Not with those guards still up above us,' said Frey.
'Bess!' Crake called. 'The tower!'
Bess had stamped her way into the compound and was looking this way and that for enemies. The guards had opened up on her in earnest, and the irritating sting of bullets on her metal skin was making her angry. At the sound of Crake's voice she swung towards the tower and charged it with a bellow.
The tower was a metal scaffold, little more than a frame that supported the platform. It was sturdy enough under normal circumstances, but it hadn't been designed to stand up to an enraged golem. Bess crashed into the base of the scaffold, smashing away one of the four legs and badly damaging another. The Yorts at the top yelled and flailed as the tower tipped slowly sideways. It toppled into the side of the warehouse, collapsing in a heap of mangled metal.
'Now can we help her?' said Crake.
Frey whistled through his fingers. 'Let's go!' he cried, and they broke cover and ran across the road, past the wrecked fence and into the compound.
The Yorts were slow to see them coming. They were too concerned with Bess, who was chasing around trying to catch them. It gave Frey a chance to find cover behind the wreckage of the guard tower. From there he could see around the side of the warehouse, giving him a good view of the compound. Ahead of him was a gravelled expanse with the fence and the front gate to his left. The second guard tower was on the far side, some distance away. The hangar was out of sight, around the other side of the warehouse.
'Fire!' Trinica called, and the air was filled with the sharp bark of gunshots. A withering volley of bullets cut down the Yorts as they fled Bess's wrath.
Their initial assault took out most of the first group of guards, but more were appearing from inside the buildings. Bullets began flying their way. Frey kept his head down. The crushed and twisted frame of the guard tower was hardly an impenetrable barrier.
'They're coming round the back of us!' said Jez. She heard them before anyone saw them, and that probably saved a few lives. They had precious seconds to line up and aim before a half-dozen Yorts rounded the other side of the warehouse, behind their position in the cover of the guard tower. They were cut down in a blaze of shotgun fire.
'Where are your people, Trinica?' Frey cried in annoyance. No sooner had he said it than there was a loud crash and a squeal of metal. He peeped through the wreckage of the guard tower and saw the front gate hanging by a hinge, with the tractor tangled up in it. Trinica's men had sent it plunging full tilt down the hill and were now swarming in behind it, shooting at the disoriented guards, who suddenly faced an attack on three fronts. Bess, meanwhile, was having great fun shaking the remaining guard tower and watching the guards fall out.
Malvery loosed off a couple of shotgun blasts and then ducked back into cover as a few more bullets came their way. 'We ought to get inside, Cap'n. Bit likely to get shot out here.' One of Trinica's men wheeled backwards and slumped to the ground, a red hole in his cheek. Malvery pointed at him meaningfully.
'Head for the hangar!' Trinica said. 'We can't let Grist get away.'
Frey nodded. 'Alright. Stay close to the warehouse. Go!'
They broke cover and ran low across the open ground, hurrying past the corpses of fallen Yorts. There were few guards left out here now; most had retreated to more defensible positions, terrified of the roaring golem in their midst. Bess was chasing two of the slower guards across the gravel. She caught one by his trailing leg, picked him up as if he was weightless, and used him to swat the other one into the fence.
'Bess! Come on!' Crake called. She looked up at the sound of his voice and lumbered over, still carrying the corpse of her latest victim, dangling by one shattered leg from her massive fist.
Crake eyed the body and turned faintly green. 'I don't think you need that any more,' he said. Bess obediently pitched the dead man into the distance.
They followed the warehouse wall to the corner. From there, they could see the back end of the hangar where the Storm Dog was hidden. An entrance led to a loading bay inside.
'Through there!' said Trinica. Frey scanned the ground before them, saw no guards, and went for it. He was halfway there when a pair of Yorts came running into sight. Silo and Malvery had spotted them, and they were gunned down before they could get a shot off. Frey pressed himself up against the side of the loading bay entrance and peered inside.
Trinica's scouts had been on the money. The hangar was cluttered with piles of supplies and criss-crossed with gantries. In their midst, looming over everything, was the colossal prow of the Storm Dog. Frey felt an angry sense of triumph at the sight.
Gotcha, you thieving, psychotic son of a bitch.
The hangar appeared to be empty, but Frey didn't like the look of the loading bay. Before them was a clear space where the tractors entered the building to pick up and deposit cargo. Stacks of crates were piled up on three sides. Perfect territory for an ambush. He hesitated at the door.
'What are you doing? Get inside!' Trinica cried, as she slammed up against the wall next to him. Bullets pocked the brickwork nearby: another group of guards, heading their way from the far side of the compound.
'I don't trust it!' he said. 'It's too easy! Grist's smarter than this!'
'Don't be stupid, Darian! How could there be an ambush waiting for us? He doesn't know we're coming!'
She was right. It was a surprise attack. Grist wouldn't have had time to organise an ambush. Frey was giving him too much credit. They were outside, exposed, and more guards were coming. There was no more time to deliberate.
'Move it!' he shouted, waving them through. Bess went first, closely followed by the rest of the crew. He ran after them. Trinica and her men loosed off a few potshots at their attackers and followed.
Jez was only a few metres in when she skidded to a stop. The look in her eyes as she turned back told him all he needed to know. She'd detected something with her heightened Mane senses that Frey had missed. 'Cap'n!' she cried. 'Go back! It's a—'
The loading bay door slammed down, shutting them in. Two dozen men sprang up from behind the crates, weapons levelled. The invaders' assault came to a stumbling halt.
'—trap,' Jez finished, belatedly.
There was the sound of weapons being primed behind them. Frey's heart sank and kept on sinking. He squeezed his eyes closed.
'Yes,' said Trinica. 'I'm afraid it is.'
Frey felt like he was tipping into a yawning void. Her voice seemed to come from far away. It didn't belong to the woman he'd known. It was a creature incalculably more terrible, the dark goddess that the men of the Delirium. Trigger worshipped.
No. No, no, no. Not her. Not again!
Frey was no stranger to betrayal, whether suffering it or committing it himself. But this time, this single moment of utter, damnable loss . . . this one beat them all.
