Another explosion. Closer. Alec’s ears rang. “Wait a minute,” Alec said to Russo. “I’ve got to know a lot more about what’s going on here...”
“Good Lord, this is no time for explanations. You’ve only got...”
Alec planted his fists on his hips. “I’m not budging until I find out...”
A high, sighing noise like the rushing of air through a punctured bulkhead.
“Incoming!” one of the men yelled.
Russo dove into Alec, knocking him down. Before Alec could say or do anything a series of explosions blasted the universe into flame and unbearable noise and shock. The ground heaved beneath him. Clods of earth pattered down. Alec could taste acrid smoke.
He was on his belly, face down in the damp grass. Head buzzing, he slowly looked up. Angela was on her knees, a trickle of blood wending a thin red line down her arm. Russo was squatting on his heels alongside her.
“Looks like you’re right,” he said, without the slightest sign of fear or anger. “You’re not leaving.”
He pointed, and Alec saw that one of the shuttles was in flames.
Chapter 15
It had turned into a bloody mess. Ferret scrambled up the steep side of the ridge, trying to get away from the screams of the dying.
Billy-Joe was down there, along with most of the rest of the band, blown into bleeding twisted blobs of blackened flesh by the explosions. Ferret himself was almost untouched; just a few scratches here and there, and a long painful gash down his left leg.
Something had gone very wrong. Instead of the usual rush, where all the gangs attacked the strangers, fighting had broken out among the gangs themselves. First. Right at the beginning. It had never happened that way before. He didn’t understand it.
Now Billy-Joe and the others were all dead. Somebody had blown them into little pieces. The noise of the explosions still rang in Ferret’s ears.
But he was still alive. That was the important thing. Still alive. Bleeding, but still alive. He could stand the pain. That didn’t matter. The thing he had to do was to get away. Hide as far away from the fighting as he could. If one of the other gangs found him alone, they’d spend the whole night making him die. Slow. Not like Billy-Joe. Not like the others.
Choking, his eyes blurred with tears, the ringing blast of the explosions still echoing inside his head, his bleeding leg going numb, Ferret clawed at the foliage along the steep slope of the ridge, dragging himself away from the fighting, anyplace, anyplace except where the others could find him alone and helpless.
He reached the top of the ridge, gasping and too weak to move further. He rolled over onto his back, panting and blinking into the bright blue sky.
“Well lookey what we got here,” a voice said from somewhere behind him.
“Looks like dead meat t’ me,” another voice said.
“Not yet. But he will be. He will be.”
Ferret closed his eyes and waited for the agony to begin.
Alec stared at the burning shuttle. A huge gash was torn in its side and flames flickered in the dark smoke that was pouring out of it.
“We’ve got to silence that mortar,” Will Russo said urgently, “or the other shuttle will get it, too.”
Alec leaped to his feet and sprinted for the truck. Kobol was already screaming into his helmet microphone, “Get the shuttle the hell out of that area! When the fire gets to the propellant tanks it’ll blow both of them sky-high!”
Scrambling up onto the laser mount, Alec motioned Kobol to silence. He grabbed his helmet and jammed it on his head, speaking into the mike. “This is Alec Morgan. Get every possible man into the undamaged shuttle and take off at once. Do you understand me? At once!”
Kobol argued, “One shuttle can only hold...”
Alec brandished a fist under his nose, and Kobol lapsed into silence. “Acknowledge that order!” he snapped. “Who’s in charge down there?”
His earphone hummed meaninglessly for a moment. Then, “This is Jameson. One shuttle can’t take more than thirty-some men, even if they’re lovers.”
“Pack them in. No time for arguing. Leave the trucks and equipment.”
Staring down at the airfield, Alec saw the intact shuttle start to taxi away from the burning one.
Jameson’s voice came on again. “We’ve got three wounded men here. Both the shuttle pilots were killed when the ship was hit.”
“Get the wounded aboard the good shuttle. I want a dozen volunteers to stay here with me. The rest can squeeze into the bird any way they can. Use the cargo space. The trucks stay here.”
Russo and his people, including Angela, came up to the truck. The big redheaded man looked up at Alec, squinting into the brightness of the sky, grinning.
“Say, would you let us use some of these weapons to drive off the raiders?”
“Come on aboard,” Alec said. He ducked under the laser mount’s guard rail and kicked at the driver’s roof. “Get us moving. Fast!”
Hanging onto the rail as the truck lurched into motion, Kobol leaned his worried-hound’s face to within a few centimeters of Alec’s. “I’m going out with them, on the shuttle. I’m not staying.”
“Fine,” Alec snapped. “Just make sure you keep in touch. I’ll tell you when to come back and pick up the rest of us.”
