I scowled and pulled my head back. If those fiends could keep chopping up Mong’s brigade, we might have a slim window of opportunity.
Staring back through the crack, though, I swallowed hard. This was a precarious situation. Multiple enemies. Nowhere safe to run.
Another voice panted and huffed in fear in the hall. It sounded like Verlioze, Mong’s weapons master. “The Mentera have slipped back through the transporter tunnel, sir, the sacred amalgo.”
Mong gave a bleat of rage. “Go in after them then. Get them back!”
His henchman swore. “Can’t. The device’s jammed. It’s inoperable.”
“Those fucking grasshoppers.” Mong clenched a fist. “They must have shut off the amalgamator from the other end. Now we can’t go in after them. Can’t even visit that wondrous world again.”
Another voice, sounding like Hadruk’s, jeered. “Still think they are the greatest thing since sliced bread, Master Mong?”
I heard a slap as Mong backhanded him. Probably Hadruk. Though I couldn’t physically see Hadruk. “Shut up, you ignoramus. Until we know the Mentera did it purposely, we’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the device just jammed and it can be fixed.”
The struck man sneered. “You’re a bloody fool if you believe that, Mong. Hypnotized by this ancient bug cult of yours and this brotherhood of ‘light’. You’re losing it and you can’t see it.”
Mong pulled out his weapon and smacked Hadruk hard across the mouth, drawing blood. Hadruk grinned and jumped him. The security officer got a good grip on Mong’s face, clawing at nose and lips, before Mong, with his bare hands, grabbed Hadruk by the throat. Hadruk sagged, struggling like an ape, but was no match for the Star Lord’s unnatural strength. With the crushing brawn of ten men, Mong’s augmented arm lifted him off his feet. There came a sudden crunch and ripping of flesh. Mong snapped the man’s neck like a rotten branch and tossed the security officer’s corpse aside. I winced. So much for Hadruk.
If those fiendish crickets could get one of those ships running…I balked at the thought.
Mong bellowed, “Don’t stand there like a bunch of stuffed dummies, you fools! I want that amalgo fixed and I want Rusco brought to his knees. Find him and bring him to me. Someone will answer for this and die.”
Verlioze licked his lips.
Mong gave a feral roar. “Now, you fucking idiots!” The Star Lord’s orders rebounded off the stone and wood like the boom of a cannon.
The temple roof rocked to new blasts.
Mong looked up and he shook his head in frustration. “Leave the corpse,” he spat. “Come with me. New plan. Those fools on defense are doing next to nothing to stop this inane attack. Let’s make for the ships. We’ll deal with the rest of this mess later.”
The sound of echoing bootfall faded down the corridor.
We bolted out of the room, sidling in an opposite direction. Hoping for a back exit, we threaded our way like thieves through the wide, dim-lit corridors. Far too many of us though for stealth.
But stealth wasn’t necessary.
Chapter 27
We burst out of the doors in a shambling crouch, our guns on the ready. Out onto the temple grounds we poured, with Wren in the lead, the roar and whine of jet fighters overhead and the scurry of running feet and anxious shouts all about. The light was fading from Othwan’s opalescent sky.
Enemy ships ranged the sky. How they had penetrated warlord Mong’s security net was still beyond me. More tricks? More last minute secret tech?
Volia and Zan were having a hard time. They had no weapons. I stayed back to cover them. Wren instructed Voj and Grild to move ahead and act as front men, clearing the way. It was their chance to prove themselves.
They hopped from boulder to garden bush, keeping their bodies low, rifles aimed. They motioned us ahead; the coast was clear.
The Temple of Light smoked behind us, a thin chute of flames rising from its caved-in roof. Now a gaping hole smoked in its nearest side, the once-proud spires teetering on drunken angles.
The grounds in the vicinity of the hangar writhed to a beehive of activity. Men in khakis firing R6s. Ships roaring overhead. Vendecki skyslips, smaller Melinarian fighters buzzing by. I could see Mong and his men scurrying away in an opposite direction while the Warhawks were on the move ready to pick them up. One landed and as bombs dropped, lighting up the green in crimson fire, they dove for cover. Mong’s plan to board was thwarted.
I still couldn’t believe the Vendecki had slipped through Mong’s defenses leaving them this unaware and exposed. Must have been one hell of a force field.
I draped an arm around Volia’s shoulder, seeing the white, dazed look of confusion in her eyes. Like another dream, Rusco, no different than the one hanging from Mong’s torture rope or floating in his Mentera tank…
We made it to the open green, a few hundred yards just shy of the charred prayer hall. That was as far as we’d get. I could see Mong’s men were converging on us, coming out of the woodwork like termites. Doom stared us in the face. So, it had all been for naught. Wren screamed orders into the com. Maybe she couldn’t hear over the roar of the destruction. Where the fuck was Noss?
The savage sweep of heavy engines blitzed the compound. Cone-like shapes and elliptical hulls of the rebels drew up and away while others landed air strikes.
A grenade clattered six feet away from us in front of a ruined fountain. Wren tackled Zan out of the way; I pulled Volia down behind a statue. Shrapnel webbed the immediate area; splatter hit the marble base behind which we crouched. The blast nearly took out our ear drums.
Vendecki and Melinarian ships
