Reston tugged her arm. “Not like this,” he said. “We can’t win against him like this. He’s right, he’s holding all the aces. Let’s run. We can still get away.”
“Leave me the fuck alone, Reston.”
“We run now, we can get him later. It’s the only course of action that makes any sense. Otherwise you’re just going to die, and there’ll be no chance of payback for what he did to your sergeant.”
“Ah, here we go,” said Tlanextic. Yet again, the gun was ready. “Why don’t you two stay standing next to each other like that? Nice and convenient. I can probably get you both with the one shot.”
“Vaughn,” Reston hissed. “Think logically. Don’t just throw everything away.”
Mal wasn’t conscious of making the choice. All she knew was that, suddenly, she was making a dash for the parapet. An l-gun bolt exploded somewhere just behind her, close enough that she could feel the blast impact in her heels.
For the next five minutes, she jumped and ran, jumped and ran, keeping pace with Reston. Her knees began to throb from the repeated jarring of twelve-foot drop after twelve-foot drop. Tier by tier they descended the ziggurat palace, with Tlanextic still tenaciously giving chase. Now and then a lightning gun bolt came their way, but the shots were always wild, Tlanextic taking them on the hoof, hoping for rather than expecting a hit. The benefit from this was that, however briefly he paused to fire, each time it put that little bit more distance between them and him. When they finally made the last jump down to ground level, he was a full five tiers behind.
They were on an open plaza, with nothing to take cover behind other than a couple of ornamental fig trees in cubic urns. Tlanextic would have a clear line of fire once he had reached the plaza himself, which would be in mere moments.
Reston didn’t hesitate. He had spied something across the plaza. Without a word he shepherded Mal towards it. She went uncomplainingly, her own survival instincts telling her she was best off deferring to his survival instincts.
One of the monorail trains had just pulled in at the plaza. Its passengers were a janitorial crew toting mops, buckets and brooms. Reston barged past them up the platform steps, scattering them and their cleaning implements, and leapt into the carriage behind the driver.
“Tell me how this thing works,” he ordered the startled man. “Now!”
“Who the hell are — ”
“Oh, sod it.” Reston yanked the man out of his seat by his tunic and tossed him out onto the platform. “How hard can it be? Vaughn. Get in.”
Mal stepped aboard while Reston slipped into the newly vacated driving seat.
“Hey,” the driver said hotly, springing to his feet. “You can’t do that. That’s my train.”
He tried to climb back in. Mal decked him with a single punch, knocking him cold.
At the same time, Tlanextic’s voice rang out across the plaza. “Halt! You fucking stop right there!”
Reston was still studying the control console.
“Reston…” Mal said.
“Give me a moment.”
“We don’t have a moment. Tlanextic’s coming.”
“I know. I’m just trying to figure out which lever’s the brake and which is the throttle.”
“Oh for — !” Mal leaned over and thrust forwards the lever that was marked in increments from 1 to 8. The train gave a jerk and began to move.
“How did you know that was the right one?”
“It couldn’t be more obvious. And I was paying attention on the way over here. I watched what the driver did.”
Reston made a face. “Ah. At that point I wasn’t really bothered about much.” He pushed the throttle lever further forwards as the train drew away from the platform. There was a clear, straight stretch of track ahead and the train eagerly gathered speed.
Tlanextic charged to the very tip of the platform and launched yet another plasma bolt at them. It fell well short of its target, and his subsequent loud grunt of exasperation told them that the shot had finally drained the battery pack. The l-gun was now dead. Enraged, he hurled it impotently after them. It bounced and clattered along the track and fell off, fetching up at the foot of the support pylon below.
Mal allowed herself a smile. They had escaped the bastard. He stood no chance of catching up with them now.
She said as much to Reston.
He glanced over his shoulder, past her. “Don’t speak too soon,” he said.
A second train was arriving at the plaza, transporting a quartet of Serpent Warriors. Tlanextic commandeered it, flagging the driver down and telling him not to stop. Taking up position beside the driver, he instructed him to pour on speed. “Those two in front are criminals — enemies of the state. The Great Speaker wants them dead. Get us as near to them as you can.”
The driver gunned the engine. Meanwhile, Tlanextic ordered all four Serpent Warriors to draw and prime their l-guns. Not antipersonnel; full charge, kinetic component. They were to blow that train to hell.
“Well, this just got a whole lot fucking better,” Mal muttered.
Reston pushed the throttle all the way to 8. The train thrummed hard, accelerating.
“There’s six of them and only two of us,” Mal said, eyeing their pursuers. “Our train’s lighter so we can go faster, right?”
“Negative mass is negative mass,” Reston replied. “The greater the weight, the more charge you need to counteract it, but once that’s achieved, the amount of energy required to generate impetus is much the same. We may have a slight edge over them in terms of power drain, but you can measure the difference in micro- wattage.”
“But they can’t actually gain ground on us.”
“Not as long as we keep going flat out. The question is, are we out of firing range?”
A bolt zapped the track a few metres to the rear of the train.
“And there’s the answer,” Reston said. “Only just.”
“Only just is good enough.”
“Yes. Problem is, at some point we’ll come to a corner and have to slow down. We’ll decelerate before they do, and there’s our lead gone. They’ll have a window of opportunity.”
“Then we don’t slow down.”
“I don’t know much about trains but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be wise.”
“Let’s put it to the test, shall we?” said Mal, pointing ahead.
Roughly two hundred metres from where they were, the track began describing a long, gentle curve to the right, winding between the bases of two buildings. Reston clamped his lips grimly together, clearly having to resist the urge to pull the throttle lever back from 8. The train was travelling at a fair lick, perhaps fifty miles per hour, levitating effortlessly along the broad silvery rail. As it hit the start of the turn it began to shimmy, and as the curve deepened the motion became a seasickly sway. The train’s apron scraped against the rail’s outer edge. There were stuttering, burping squeals of metal on metal. Sparks flew. The centrifugal force was tremendous and Mal bent hard to the side to counteract it. Looking back, she saw the Serpent train falling behind. The driver had automatically curbed speed when approaching the bend. Tlanextic berated him, cuffing him round the head and telling him not to be such a fucking wimp.
Their own train was shaking wildly from side to side now and seemed keen to part company with the track. Then the curve straightened out and the noise and disturbance gradually subsided.
“Yeah!” Mal shouted to their pursuers. “How’s about that, arseholes? You’re never going to get us. Might as well fuck off back home and polish your helmets.”
“What did I tell you about speaking too soon?”
Mal looked back round and saw to her dismay that there was another bend coming up. This one was a full ninety-degree turn, snaking to the left.
“I’ll have to rein it in,” Reston said. “Otherwise we’ll fly clean off.” He drew the throttle down a notch to 7, then for good measure to 6. “We’ll still be going too fast, though. And…”
“And what?”
