As the dreadful fear of the shield breaking up caused him to crawl faster, Marten also counted battlesuits. Maybe a hundred shock troopers had landed on this broken, battered particle shield. They all had to get off. A hundred was too many to lose. He dared lifted his hand and point to his maniple where to go. He did it as he slid his right hand forward to crawl another inch.
No, they weren’t his maniple anymore. They were Kang’s. He laughed harshly. “Screw you, Lycon,” he said.
The others, close now, crawling together, peered at him. He’d had his comlink open when he’d said that. He could see their questioning eyes.
“We gotta move!” Marten said. “We gotta get off this particle shield.”
“Wu gives the orders,” Kang said.
“Neurostim yourselves,” Marten said. “From here on in you’ll need anger, lots of it to drown out the fear.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Kang said. “I’m in charge of the one-oh-one.”
“Stay if you want, Kang.” To the others Marten said, “Follow me. The particle shield could break up at any time.”
“Wu,” Kang said via comlink.
Wu didn’t answer. Maybe he was out of range, maybe he had other things on his mind.
“The particle shield could break up?” asked Lance.
“Have you taken a good look at the shield?” Marten asked. “There are too many laser holes for my tastes. What if one section of the shield crumbles?”
Vip cursed in fear.
“Neurostim yourselves to a two-dose level,” Marten said.
“No,” Kang said. “Only one dose, as per HB orders.”
Marten hissed, “You’re a stupid idiot, Kang. It’s time to get mad. We gotta hustle off.”
“Three-oh-ninth leader here, Marten,” said a shock trooper. “What’s this about a crumbling shield?”
Marten told him. And so the word was spread.
Marten, getting the hang of it now, crawled faster than before. The horrible tug always dragged at him, threatening to tear him off for good. But like a big mechanical baby, he learned the crawling trick and had almost perfected it to an art.
“Come back here,” Kang said.
“Everyone else is following me, Kang,” Marten said between gasps. Even with the battlesuit, it was hard moving fast under eight Gs. “I suggest you do likewise.”
Kang growled, but he started after them.
In time, Marten reached the edge of the particle shield. He poked his head between the gap of this shield and the one beside it. What if the people in the ship banged the two shields together? Hamburger shock troopers, that’s what. He couldn’t see down to the ship. Six hundred meters, if he recalled this beamship’s specs right, that was the depth of the shields. He swallowed, and then he started down. It felt safer here, but that was an illusion he knew. If he lost his grip, the eight Gs would simply rip him up, up and up and maybe knock others off as well.
His rage against the HBs grew. But he was getting tired, too. All those days locked up in the G-suit without exercise was having its effect.
“Uh, oh,” said Lance.
“What is it?” Marten said.
“We lost another one.”
Marten said a short prayer for the hapless victim. Then, “Is everyone else following?”
“Seems like,” said Lance. “Omi, can you see?”
“They’re coming.”
Down, down, down Marten crawled. His breathing was harsh in his ears. Then he reached the bottom of the particle shield. He checked his HUD radar, and saw giant struts attached to the inner beamship’s skin. He crawled under the shield, and now he could move faster because the Gs pushed him against the shield. Soon he reached the nearest steel strut, a vast girder that moved the particle shield around to wherever it was needed.
Spikes wouldn’t work on the girder.
Marten cudgeled his wits.
Suddenly a man screamed. That cut through the static all right.
“PD cannon,” growled a shock trooper.
Marten peered at the inner armored surface. There! A cannon poked out the skin like an ancient pirate’s cannon had on those old wooden ships. Suddenly a ball of orange plasma roiled toward the PD cannon that spewed shots.
A second later, the plasma washed over and melted the cannon.
“Ten dead,” said a shock trooper.
“Keep your eyes open for more.”
“They know we’re here,” Marten said. Then he knew what he had to do. “Once you reach the girders put away your spikes.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe,” Marten said.
He put one spike-pad away. Then he reached out. With full exoskeleton power, he clutched hold of the girder. His power-gloves bent the metal. It would leave a handprint, all right. He moved his left hand, and as he tried to slip off the spike-pad, it flew away. He sighed, and then he grabbed the girder with his left. He shimmied down the giant strut, wrapping his battlesuited legs around part of it.
“Marten’s a monkey,” Vip said.
“Just make sure you follow me,” Marten said.
A man cursed as two more PD’s popped up. Plasma rolled at them, but not before five more shock troopers died.
“Bastards!” cried a man.
Soon others crawled behind him and down the girder. Attached to their battlesuits were breach-bombs and plasma cannons, while hooked to their arms were laser tubes.
“This is thirsty work,” said Lance. He tried for levity. He sounded as frightened as Marten felt. Neurostim didn’t seem to last long while they were doing this.
Marten concentrated on crawling. His skin itched. He wanted more neurostim.
The fear, dread, anger and hard work made him sweat. But finally, Marten reached the end of the giant strut. The inner armored skin of the
“What was that?” Omi said.
“Why is it shaking?” whined Vip.
“Hurry!” shouted Marten.
“Use yours thrusters?” Vip said.
“No!” shouted Marten. “Don’t be a fool. The beamship’s fleeing at full acceleration.”
“If you use your thrusters,” said Lance, “you’ll barely crawl at one G, but the ship will move at eight.”
“Then it’s bye, bye,” Kang said.
Marten reached for the beamship’s inner armor. He also turned on the battlesuit’s magnetic-clamps at full
