Enemy fighters and NOA jetted across the sky. Rectangular hulks too, the mechnobots.
“It’s those badass drones of Dez’s,” muttered Deakes. “How many did he build? Only so many of those bug-wasps or moths, whatever he had, to drive ’em.”
“Maybe he bred more,” Vincent suggested.
Regers looked at the young thug with pity. “They don’t just grow those aliens on trees overnight, idiot.” He swatted at his head.
Vincent ducked his head, scowling.
Deakes pointed. “I got a line on Vrean. Target locked.”
“Bombs away.”
The torpedo flared out and tagged Vrean’s mantis’s stern. The vessel lurched, blue-green flares dashing off her shields.
Regers wet his lips in satisfaction. Payback! Always a reward so sweet when it was within grasp. “Good work, Deakes. Hit ’em hard again!”
The Roamer sprayed fire flares. The mantis fighter jumped again at Grendel’s assault and it yawed, spinning out of control to crash halfway down the street.
“Victory!” Regers shook a fist.
As dust stirred, enemy fire sprayed and startled human spectators crabbed away for cover, expecting the ship to explode, or catch on fire. The lightfighter’s port side lay angled up against a slum apartment block, jabbed through broken windows, its nose cracked and bent out of shape. Thick black smoke curled from its crumpled back end and starboard middle.
Regers clenched a first. “Circle back and finish ’em off, Jiminy.”
Jennings complied, guiding the Roamer back to the crash site.
Before Deakes could sight in for a killing blow, another ship burst out of the low-lying clouds, reaming them with fire. “What the hell—”
“Who the fuck’s this? He don’t fly like any bug,” cried Regers. “Must be Yul’s buddy come to hinder us. Blast his skinny ass!”
“Right, boss.” Vincent targeted the incoming ship while Deakes recalibrated for long range shots.
Regers called, “Deakes, forget it. Ramra, take point, scan that ship’s innards for weaknesses. Looks like a special op bug tactical vessel to me. Both of you take out this fuck then we’ll come back to finish off Yul and his pals.”
Grendel sped after the rogue mantis. It left their victim far behind. Rear cannon fire spat back at them, catching their bow shields, sending warning lights flashing on the nav panel.
“Jesus, this bitch’s a real hot dog. Some cocky crawdog. Give it to ’em, Vincent.”
Tongue clenched between teeth, Vincent locked on the escaping craft’s rear impulse engines. The special op ship wobbled in midair. It must have been malfunctioning, for it slowed. Or maybe the pilot was overconfident and misjudged. Grendel’s firepower was more than it could handle…the mantis’s shields were pummeled by Vincent’s and Deakes’s onslaught. The fuselage lit in blue and went down.
Deakes and Regers catcalled in triumph.
“Want me to finish it?” Deakes rasped.
“Naw, don’t waste any time on that shitbox,” rumbled Regers. “Jennings, get back to the crash site.”
With a curt nod, Jennings sent the ship around to the back streets many blocks away.
* * *
Yul roused from his stupor. The sound of bleeps and buzzing noises echoed in his ears. All bad sounds. His body ached. He lifted himself with difficulty and pain from a broken pilot chair. No broken bones, but his brow had suffered a good hit.
Oh, yeah, they’d crashed. His head did a little jog as memory drifted back. He unhooked the harness around his shoulders. Cloye stirred beside him, her shaky fingers clutching her safety strap. Her face was ashen. She gave a groggy moan and attempted to roll over on her side.
Yul staggered over to a slumped form lying across the bridge by the far wall. Hresh. He felt for his pulse, lifted an arm. Nothing. The scientist lay eyes up, in lifeless sprawl.
Yul visualized events as they had happened: the flare to the stern, the loss of power and emergency systems as the ship careened out of control and rammed against the building. Hresh had not been able to belt himself in in time. The impact had sent him flying across the bridge like a straw man, snapping his neck.
“A quick death’s better than stuck in a tank,” Cloye muttered. She staggered to Yul’s side.
“Let’s go, Cloye. We’ve got some surviving to do.”
“I agree.”
“Those bastards’ll be here with guns to finish us off. I know Regers. He’ll be on our tail once they shake their pursuers.”
He grabbed an extra E1 from the broken rack and tossed one to Cloye. She limped after him.
The emergency cargo port was jammed. Yul hoofed it in with a savage kick. He shuffled through, dragging Cloye with him. Smoke poured in, stinging their eyes.
They debarked the broken craft, getting as far away from the crackling hull in case it exploded. The sounds of sniper fire greeted them in the streets.
Eyes stinging, Yul squinted up in the pale sunshine. A war-torn mess of broken masonry, twisted signposts, streetlights, fallen bodies, whispers of hostile movements lurked in the daytime shadows. Hunched figures like rats broke for cover. Stun rays lashed out, the smell of fear and sounds of capture by locust ground troopers eager to snatch a body or two. A bleak day for Xares…
Cloye’s face was soot-grimed, her left eye blackened and bruised. A cut ran along her upper right shoulder. She looked like a raccoon.
Yul’s joints creaked to new stiffness. He flexed his mechanical arm, glad of its strength and its 1.5 factor of strength. He’d need it in the moments ahead.
He gripped his blaster, glad of the extra slung at his hip. “Let’s move out, Cloye, before locusts—” Jesus, there was Regers’ monster stealth craft hanging in the air! But wait, another mantis craft. A special op ship, barreling down on him with sleek neck, extra cannons and oversized bridge. Fenli. “Run!”
* * *
Grendel swooped low and hovered over the wreck of Yul’s crumpled mantis flyer.
“Don’t see Vrean jumping
