“My, my, what pleasant memories,” cooed Drek.
Miko grew red in the face. The obscene play was too grotesque, and made his blood boil.
Fenli said dryly, “Looks as if our favourite hermaphrodite was having a little rough and tumble with the Empress.”
“Shut up,” growled Miko. “We got her into this mess, remember?”
“That’s debatable,” said Fenli. “She got herself into this mess. We did not give her to the Mentera. Or put her in the tank.”
Drek made a sudden movement and held up his palm. The screen collapsed and the black ball rematerialized and floated back to settle in his hand. “Marvellous invention,” he chuckled, tucking the device back into his pocket. “That’s all the entertainment for tonight, folks,” he quipped. “Now—” he scowled in sudden rage and stabbed out a finger at the five rebels. “Kill those slackers!”
Fire flew from blasters and the clash of arms thundered as a rush of sweating bodies heaved against Miko. He was engulfed in an instant tidal wave, bowled over before he could even think. His heart lurched. His nerves tingled with dismay and loathing.
Bzt.
Invisible. Why now, when he hadn’t in the pipe? The sudden threat, the imminence of death? His astral form slipped from under the growing pile of heaving bodies, and he saw Usk and Sket getting battered.
In rage and desperation, he scooped up the nearest blaster with his will.
Star was stabbing and shrieking, bleeding at the thigh, fighting for her life. “Aie!” she cried, jabbing at a man’s guts, the javelin tip pricking past his leather padding.
“Agh! You bitch!” He jerked the blood-dripping javelin out of her grasp. He smacked her across the face with his other hand. Star’s eyes glazed, pinpricks of light mirrored in her eyes.
Miko, wraithlike, floated up behind her rag-bearded attacker with the bloody headband and smashed the butt of his pistol into his skull, braining him. The man sank in a slack heap, eyes tilted upwards in oblivion.
Star wobbled, groping for her weapon, looking about dizzily for her protector. Miko glided by her while she looked about, peering in bewilderment at the men who were being slain by an advancing blaster with invisible wielder.
Sket, beaten to his knees, was surrounded by foes. Miko drifted over, blowing legs off the attackers. Murlag’s men gasped, weapons raised, looking about in confusion at the firearm that hovered in the air so mysteriously. Usk seized the moment and skewered an attacking man in the groin, then plunged a dagger into his ribs.
Fenli staggered off, perhaps realizing the situation was hopeless. He offered little support to his friends.
Miko followed him in annoyance, sparks crackling around his phantom-like form, revealing him momentarily. Wasting no time, he aimed the air gun at the throng racing in to kill Sket. Three outcasts went up in frothy pools; others threw up arms in despair and death. Gurgles rasped from dying throats.
Miko’s gun turned, laying waste to everyone in sight. Drek had ducked back in fury. Miko waved the weapon to and fro, making it difficult for anyone to wrench it out of his astral grip. He weaved through swinging blades, air blaster fire and jostling men, throats thick with grunts and hissing curses.
“What is this?” roared Drek, looking around in angry perplexity. “Someone shoot that bloody thing!”
“’Tis a ghost of the tunnels!” one cried. “Or some invisible weapon-wielder of the Skullroxers.”
“Shoot it, you fools!” cried Drek.
Dragar, having just arrived with a band of his men, hurried to join the fray. Snatching up weapons of the fallen guards, they opened fire with relish. B & D’s rearguard toppled in ruin as did several of Murlag’s men. The laser fire and air blasts went right through Miko, but one rogue ray caught his air gun and sent it spinning to the ground. It melted away in a pool of smoking metal.
Miko hovered nearby, shivering in his astral nothingness. He glided over the mounds of corpses and grabbed another silver weapon: a broken short sword. Floating behind the unaware Murlag, he smashed the blunt end against the leader’s skull. The chief sank to a knee, shaking his head.
Two of B & D’s guards crouched and aimed at the advancing blade. The weapon swung twirling out of Miko’s astral grip. He grimaced. By this time he was within hand’s reach of the surface vehicle. He stopped dead, stunned at the sight of the Jakru woman quivering in the tank, overturned and leaking fluid. Drek must not have trusted his men enough to leave her behind at his camp. A metal post had smashed down over the tank, pinning glass and woman to the floor. She was garbed in scanty, near see-through fabric. Miko’s ethereal body tingled. A savage fury welled up in him. Also vindictive delight that he could do something for her this time. He passed through the vehicle’s wall and battered at the tank with a piece of wreckage he had snatched up, using his bodiless will to free the prisoner.
The pale greenish water drained out of the tank like demon slime. He pulled the woman free, sweeping the broken glass away from her naked feet. Even in her enslaved, pathetic condition with her golden ram horns trailing down her naked back, she glowed with beauty. Vibrant with a life-force that only an Empress could possess. On contact with the water his astral form crackled back to unholy existence.
The Empress shook her head in dazed confusion. “You!” She regurgitated the vile green liquid. She clenched her fists and pushed him away.
Miko cried, “No time for ill will. Come on!”
She thrust herself away. “Leave me alone!” she gasped. Pain and frustration swam in her expression and every muscle of her body seemed to tense. She hobbled over to the wall, steadying herself with one hand
