He cursed and I heard muffled cries coming from Wren, still trapped underneath that wretched panel, maybe injured or maybe not. She kicked and cursed, lashed out at the metal. Shut up, you stupid woman. Christ, she had a foul tongue.
“Nice move, Rusco. I’m guessing you’re right out of explosives by now by the look of that little missile you cast. Makes my job a lot easier.”
The bear-man moved forward, emptying fire into the scraps of metal that shielded me and I cried out in pain as a hot flare grazed my side, singeing leather and drawing blood.
“Feel like talking now?” he grunted. “I know you’re still there. I can smell your dirty hide. Once I get you, I’m going to cut off your head, then take your squealing bitch back for a ride she’ll never forget.”
I crouched, my heart beating, counting the moments. Come on, Rusco, think.
“Just you and me,” laughed Baer. “Your geriatric mechanic is down, but I guess you saw that, didn’t you? Sure you did. The girl? Well, she ain’t sounding as if she’s too available right now.” He laughed, an acidy hyena chuckle. “Why don’t you just come out like a good boy, and we can settle this like men, instead of rustling around in the dark, shitting in the corners like mice?”
‘That’s a nice idea for someone with a gun.”
“It is what it is, Rusco. Not leaving here until I have your head on a platter. Part of the deal I made with Mong. Either your head or mine. Mong gave me the choice, a month to track your miserable hide down and deliver the phaso. Said he’d make a captain of me in his army, with all the material perks of war.”
“That’s a nice deal, Baer. Congratulations.” Three down, only one black bear to go.
My prosthetic hand twitched. A bad time for it to act up. Control it, Rusco. It reached out and clutched the smooth, cool surface of the phaso, my last card.
“You’ve been duped by a charlatan with psi power, Baer. Parlor tricks that a well-timed hit from a blaster can end in a second.”
“You’re wrong there,” Baer grunted, loosing another spray of fire as he moved closer. “I’ve seen Mong employ telekinetic powers that you wouldn’t believe. Got ’em through his meditation on dark gods, that black religion or whatever he dabbles in. You don’t know the power of the man.”
“I could give a shit about his powers, if he sucked Adam’s dick. Give me a gun and I’ll put a bullet in the lizard’s brain.”
“Tsk, tsk. Now that’s no way to badmouth somebody who isn’t here to defend himself. Didn’t your mother teach you manners? Think Mong would have something to say about that fly-away tongue of yours. Shame on you, Rusco. Plan on getting me back that little phaso. If I don’t, the star lord’s death warrant awaits.”
“You’ve already mentioned that, Baer. Going Alzheimer on me?”
Hearing my labored breathing, he strode in with a leisurely gait. “Mong told me all about that phaso. The Mentera were stupid enough in how they employed the technology. They could have ruled the universe, and almost did, but lost it at the end. Now they’re only passing memories. Mong and I’ll not make the same mistake.”
Famous last words, reptile brain. All the while I’d been edging around his left side, inching on my stomach like an eel, leaving a small trail of blood and slime behind me. Wren chose that instant to whimper and as Baer turned his ugly head and muttered, “That’s right, bitch, you’d better—” I lurched up.
“Peekaboo.” I lobbed the phaso at him and he swatted out a hairy hand to block it, or grab it? It amounted to the same. As I dove sideways in a desperate roll, he blinked out of existence, flicked out to nowhere land like his buddy and Mitch and Billy before him. I shuttled forward, snatched up the dead gunman’s AK and did a wide sweep, expecting a host of criminals to come at me all at once. They didn’t. I loosed a spray of fire and a wolfish howl all around me in a half moon. Heart beating, I stumbled to the place where the phaso was and where Baer had last blinked out, as warily as a wolf who approaches a steel-ringed trap.
I stooped to pick up the glimmering disc with my sleeve and pocketed it. I grinned from ear to ear, familiar Rusco now, raw, crinkly grin. “Okay, good, everything’s good,” I assured myself. I staggered over to the tented hump of metal where Wren lay trapped and began pulling the sheets back. I had to use the full force of my dwindling strength, legs braced, while the aches crawled up my arms. Wren’s obvious distress gave me added haste.
“Okay, kiddo, we’re clear.” Grunting, with anguished efforts and the augmented strength of my mechano-hand, I pried back the last of the metal and dragged her to her feet. She was a dusty mess, all stooped and haggard, limping and bedraggled, but her dark eyes burned with a fierce light. A dark crust of blood caked her left forearm. She shook her slim body out, blinking. Her right hand massaged the small of her back where I’d guessed she’d lain for too long on her bulky R4.
“Took you long enough,” she groused. She looked around, scooping
