I yank out my pistol and shoot straight into its face. Its fingers don’t so much as loosen on the back of my neck. Taller than me by a good margin, it yanks me full off the ground, my feet leaving the solid surface. Its other hand crushes around my wrist, shaking the pistol to the ground. It’s going to break my arm.
Bat launches himself like a bullet at the number’s face, scrambling around the back of its neck, jaw clamping down on the panel sure to be there. The female releases my wrist and grabs him by the scruff of the neck, peels him off as if his razor claws mean nothing, and flings him straight across the hangar.
If she wasn’t dead before, she is now.
If I can ever loosen her grip.
But she let go of my wrist to throw him. I jab my thumb into her eye-socket, going for the other eye as soon as she flails back, making so little noise at the attack it freaks me out more than if she screamed. Digging my fingers into its face, I grab the wrist clamped around the back of my neck with my other hand, trying to pry it off while the number is distracted.
It doesn’t go nearly as well as I’d hoped.
With a lurch, it slams me into the collapsing metal of the burning ship, knocking the air out of my lungs. Burning heat presses into the side of my face.
That’s going to scar, I think offhandedly, not feeling the pain yet. I kick, throwing every bit of my body weight and my synthetic muscle into getting it off me. Its fingers dig further into the back of my neck, pressing my face down with its other hand, body atop mine. It’s surprisingly heavy. And much, much too strong for me to budge.
It wants to get at the paneling in the back of my neck. Disable me but not kill me. Same as I’ve done with other cyborgs in the past few weeks. I bite at the nearest body part I can reach, panic blinding the edges of my already-compromised vision.
There’s a blur of movement and a flash so hot I’m sure it takes off some skin on my hands. The number jerks sideways. A vague glow of blue rims a missing section of its shoulder. Lalia appears in my line of sight, brandishing the big rifle, looking more pissed than I’ve ever seen. She aims again as the number turns to grab her as well.
It has a pistol in its hand. Lalia is not as bulletproof as I am. I grab its arm, trying to wrestle it down. It doesn’t do much good, but it’s an extra second Lalia needed to fire again. Her aim is dead on its chest, but still fills the air with burning heat, stinging my face. Or maybe that’s the molten metal of the ship the number is still trying to force me into.
Lalia’s second shot knocks it more off balance. Enough it finally, finally releases it’s grip on the back of my neck. I scramble sideways as Lalia fires again. Again. Again. Her arm hooks under mine, dragging me off the burning metal.
The number is still standing. I don’t see much of the way it looks, my glitching eyes mixing with the pain of my injured temple and what I’m sure are now a myriad of burns and cuts along that same side of my face. My vision dips, but I manage to stay on my feet, leaning heavily on Lalia’s shoulder. She keeps the rifle up in one hand, hesitating.
“Shoot it again,” I whisper, as the number staggers back to its feet, half its lower jaw gone. Its skeleton is metal as mine. If I wasn’t so out of it, I might throw up.
Calmly, Lalia raises the gun and takes another shot, dead in it’s chest.
It stumbles and doesn’t fall.
Off to the side, I see Yvonne kneeling next to a still mostly-unconscious Zane, a hand on his shoulder, the other arm wrapped around Anya’s head, keeping her eyes covered against her shoulder. Her wide eyes meet mine.
It’s tough to tell, but it seems as if she mouths, are you okay?
“Aaron…” Lalia whispers, raising the rifle a little as if she wants to aim for its face but can’t bring herself to do it now that it’s just standing there, staring at us. More a robot and a cyborg, one eye still fully functioning and staring dead into mine.
I grab the grip of the rifle, pulling it to my shoulder. Across the hangar, I see Bat making it back towards us, pausing at the scene. Even from here, he looks stunned.
“Get out of here,” I tell the number, raising the rifle. “Just leave.”
I should kill it. I’ve done it before, with both humans and cyborgs alike. But shooting it over and over until the rifle finally wears down the augmentations…it’s too much.
I gesture with the glowing end of the gun. “Get. Out.”
It lunges.
Lalia sucks in a sharp breath. I get one shot off, dead to the face, before it crashes into us, sending Lalia across the hangar floor and me harshly onto my back.
Well, that was its chance.
I slam the butt of the rifle into what’s left of its jaw, firing into its temple. It knocks it back a few feet. I fire again, scrambling backwards unsteadily, mostly missing this time. A tremble rocks the entire ship, a bright, red-hot light spilling in the tinted windows. Right. I’d forgotten the star. For a moment, between the imploding starlight and fiery disaster of Zane and Lalia’s ship, the entire hangar comes into focus. Harsh, bloody shadows cut the scene. My eyes glitch with the heat. I aim another shot.
The number’s left arm jerks, moving strangely until I realize what it’s doing. It doesn’t seem possible, but I’m over that assumption with Captain’s special numbers. Its left arm splits, two long, metal sharp pinchers of an arm jabbing at me. One digs into my ankle, dragging me, back the other going for my face. My next shot throws it off balance but doesn’t stop it. I fire again.
The trigger clicks.
Damn.
Big guns will eventually run out of ammo, and this one is unfamiliar to me. I brace myself to hit it again, to try to keep it off me—
A flash of blue sends heat right over my head, knocking the number back and sending it scrambling up in a series of inhuman movements.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Lee on the opposite end of the hangar, lit with the red light of the passing star fire. He advances toward us, another huge rifle raised to his shoulder, looking similarly pissed. I realize what he’s going to do in time to flatten myself back to the ground, arms over my head, cold metal floor pressing into my cheek.
Several dozen shots blaze straight by me, filling the air with heat and electricity. Even my new ears crackle, and I turn them down to nearly nothing.
Everything falls silent.
Carefully, I raise my head, nudging my hearing back up to an appropriate level. Lee is standing only a few feet behind me, rifle at his side, surveying the damage, expression severe but satisfied.
What remains of the number is barely recognizable.
At the far end of the hangar, Kel is standing, eyes wide, mouth open, looking truly shocked. Eventually, her line of sight drifts down to me, and even from here, with my glitching eyes, I see her swallow.
There’s a soft groan from behind me. I check on the humans. Zane and the princesses are still mostly hidden behind my ship. Lalia is half-sprawled on the floor, getting up slowly, catching her breath and rubbing the back of her head.
Zane’s eyes are open, but I’m not sure he’s taking much of this in. His clothes are burned, all the way through in places. Bat crawls over, nudging him with his nose.
Hot rage replaces the panic crushing my chest. I glare at Kel. She’s had the gall to start walking our way. I get to my feet, the ground dipping more than it should, and find my other, smaller gun in its holster. I have the satisfaction of watching her eyes go wide as I stomp toward her.
“Woah, woah!” Lee catches me, two big arms wrapping around my shoulders in a restraint. “Aaron, calm down.”
My skin crawls where he touches me, and I have the vague idea of giving him an elbow in the jaw if he didn’t just save my life.
“Get away from me,” I snarl, giving him a solid shove instead.
Yvonne’s hand grabs mine, stepping in front of me. I glare down at her, but she doesn’t look angry or scared. Concerned.
“Let’s just leave,” she says, not unkindly.
“She nearly got my brother killed because she wanted to get back at me,” I hiss.
“I know, but Anya’s watching, let’s just—”
Behind her—close enough I could reach over Yvonne and grab her face—Kel folds her arms, apparently comfortable now the human is between me and her. “If you were human, you’d understand why I did it.”
Yvonne whirls on her heel and cracks Kel across the face. There’s a sickening crunch, and Kel’s head snaps back. She hits the ground hard.
Yvonne shakes her hand out. “Honey, I have a few choice things to say, and you are so lucky my little sister is watching us.” Turning back, she shoves me in the chest. “Let’s just go.”
I wouldn’t’ve expected that to make me feel better, but some of the rage has eased. There’s still the gun in my hand, but there’s also Anya’s eyes on us, and she’s seen enough for one day. I watch Kel wipe the blood off her nose and nod a little, letting Yvonne wrap her arm around my waist and lead me back to the others.
I yank out my pistol and shoot straight into its face. Its fingers don’t so much as loosen on the back of my neck. Taller than me by a good margin, it yanks me full off the ground, my feet leaving the solid surface. Its other hand crushes around my wrist, shaking the pistol to the ground. It’s going to break my arm.
Bat launches himself like a bullet at the number’s face, scrambling around the back of its neck, jaw clamping down on the panel sure to be there. The female releases my wrist and grabs him by the scruff of the neck, peels him off as if his razor claws mean nothing, and flings him straight across the hangar.
If she wasn’t dead before, she is now.
If I can ever loosen her grip.
But she let go of my wrist to throw him. I jab my thumb into her eye-socket, going for the other eye as soon as she flails back, making so little noise at the attack it freaks me out more than if she screamed. Digging my fingers into its face, I grab the wrist clamped around the back of my neck with my other hand, trying to pry it off while the number is distracted.
It doesn’t go nearly as well as I’d hoped.
With a lurch, it slams me into the collapsing metal of the burning ship, knocking the air out of my lungs. Burning heat presses into the side of my face.
That’s going to scar, I think offhandedly, not feeling the pain yet. I kick, throwing every bit of my body weight and my synthetic muscle into getting it off me. Its fingers dig further into the back of my neck, pressing my face down with its other hand, body atop mine. It’s surprisingly heavy. And much, much too strong for me to budge.
It wants to get at the paneling in the back of my neck. Disable me but not kill me. Same as I’ve done with other cyborgs in the past few weeks. I bite at the nearest body part I can reach, panic blinding the edges of my already-compromised vision.
There’s a blur of movement and a flash so hot I’m sure it takes off some skin on my hands. The number jerks sideways. A vague glow of blue rims a missing section of its shoulder. Lalia appears in my line of sight, brandishing the big rifle, looking more pissed than I’ve ever seen. She aims again as the number turns to grab her as well.
It has a pistol in its hand. Lalia is not as bulletproof as I am. I grab its arm, trying to wrestle it down. It doesn’t do much good, but it’s an extra second Lalia needed to fire again. Her aim is dead on its chest, but still fills the air with burning heat, stinging my face. Or maybe that’s the molten metal of the ship the number is still trying to force me into.
Lalia’s second shot knocks it more off balance. Enough it finally, finally releases it’s grip on the back of my neck. I scramble sideways as Lalia fires again. Again. Again. Her arm hooks under mine, dragging me off the burning metal.
The number is still standing. I don’t see much of the way it looks, my glitching eyes mixing with the pain of my injured temple and what I’m sure are now a myriad of burns and cuts along that same side of my face. My vision dips, but I manage to stay on my feet, leaning heavily on Lalia’s shoulder. She keeps the rifle up in one hand, hesitating.
“Shoot it again,” I whisper, as the number staggers back to its feet, half its lower jaw gone. Its skeleton is metal as mine. If I wasn’t so out of it, I might throw up.
Calmly, Lalia raises the gun and takes another shot, dead in it’s chest.
It stumbles and doesn’t fall.
Off to the side, I see Yvonne kneeling next to a still mostly-unconscious Zane, a hand on his shoulder, the other arm wrapped around Anya’s head, keeping her eyes covered against her shoulder. Her wide eyes meet mine.
It’s tough to tell, but it seems as if she mouths, are you okay?
“Aaron…” Lalia whispers, raising the rifle a little as if she wants to aim for its face but can’t bring herself to do it now that it’s just standing there, staring at us. More a robot and a cyborg, one eye still fully functioning and staring dead into mine.
I grab the grip of the rifle, pulling it to my shoulder. Across the hangar, I see Bat making it back towards us, pausing at the scene. Even from here, he looks stunned.
“Get out of here,” I tell the number, raising the rifle. “Just leave.”
I should kill it. I’ve done it before, with both humans and cyborgs alike. But shooting it over and over until the rifle finally wears down the augmentations…it’s too much.
I gesture with the glowing end of the gun. “Get. Out.”
It lunges.
Lalia sucks in a sharp breath. I get one shot off, dead to the face, before it crashes into us, sending Lalia across the hangar floor and me harshly onto my back.
Well, that was its chance.
I slam the butt of the rifle into what’s left of its jaw, firing into its temple. It knocks it back a few feet. I fire again, scrambling backwards unsteadily, mostly missing this time. A tremble rocks the entire ship, a bright, red-hot light spilling in the tinted windows. Right. I’d forgotten the star. For a moment, between the imploding starlight and fiery disaster of Zane and Lalia’s ship, the entire hangar comes into focus. Harsh, bloody shadows cut the scene. My eyes glitch with the heat. I aim another shot.
The number’s left arm jerks, moving strangely until I realize what it’s doing. It doesn’t seem possible, but I’m over that assumption with Captain’s special numbers. Its left arm splits, two long, metal sharp pinchers of an arm jabbing at me. One digs into my ankle, dragging me, back the other going for my face. My next shot throws it off balance but doesn’t stop it. I fire again.
The trigger clicks.
Damn.
Big guns will eventually run out of ammo, and this one is unfamiliar to me. I brace myself to hit it again, to try to keep it off me—
A flash of blue sends heat right over my head, knocking the number back and sending it scrambling up in a series of inhuman movements.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Lee on the opposite end of the hangar, lit with the red light of the passing star fire. He advances toward us, another huge rifle raised to his shoulder, looking similarly pissed. I realize what he’s going to do in time to flatten myself back to the ground, arms over my head, cold metal floor pressing into my cheek.
Several dozen shots blaze straight by me, filling the air with heat and electricity. Even my new ears crackle, and I turn them down to nearly nothing.
Everything falls silent.
Carefully, I raise my head, nudging my hearing back up to an appropriate level. Lee is standing only a few feet behind me, rifle at his side, surveying the damage, expression severe but satisfied.
What remains of the number is barely recognizable.
At the far end of the hangar, Kel is standing, eyes wide, mouth open, looking truly shocked. Eventually, her line of sight drifts down to me, and even from here, with my glitching eyes, I see her swallow.
There’s a soft groan from behind me. I check on the humans. Zane and the princesses are still mostly hidden behind my ship. Lalia is half-sprawled on the floor, getting up slowly, catching her breath and rubbing the back of her head.
Zane’s eyes are open, but I’m not sure he’s taking much of this in. His clothes are burned, all the way through in places. Bat crawls over, nudging him with his nose.
Hot rage replaces the panic crushing my chest. I glare at Kel. She’s had the gall to start walking our way. I get to my feet, the ground dipping more than it should, and find my other, smaller gun in its holster. I have the satisfaction of watching her eyes go wide as I stomp toward her.
“Woah, woah!” Lee catches me, two big arms wrapping around my shoulders in a restraint. “Aaron, calm down.”
My skin crawls where he touches me, and I have the vague idea of giving him an elbow in the jaw if he didn’t just save my life.
“Get away from me,” I snarl, giving him a solid shove instead.
Yvonne’s hand grabs mine, stepping in front of me. I glare down at her, but she doesn’t look angry or scared. Concerned.
“Let’s just leave,” she says, not unkindly.
“She nearly got my brother killed because she wanted to get back at me,” I hiss.
“I know, but Anya’s watching, let’s just—”
Behind her—close enough I could reach over Yvonne and grab her face—Kel folds her arms, apparently comfortable now the human is between me and her. “If you were human, you’d understand why I did it.”
Yvonne whirls on her heel and cracks Kel across the face. There’s a sickening crunch, and Kel’s head snaps back. She hits the ground hard.
Yvonne shakes her hand out. “Honey, I have a few choice things to say, and you are so lucky my little sister is watching us.” Turning back, she shoves me in the chest. “Let’s just go.”
I wouldn’t’ve expected that to make me feel better, but some of the rage has eased. There’s still the gun in my hand, but there’s also Anya’s eyes on us, and she’s seen enough for one day. I watch Kel wipe the blood off her nose and nod a little, letting Yvonne wrap her arm around my waist and lead me back to the others.
