Way of No Return (Champions of the Crystal Book 8)

Chapter 18.2

Lyrabeth had a hard time keeping in front of Ford; the imperative to hurry up and remove this obstacle between him and his wife was overriding what caution he normally possessed, she guessed. She wondered if Sabrina had ever felt this daunted by the need to see him safely through the dangerous missions she'd accompanied him on, years ago now.

Annoyed, Lyrabeth reached out and jabbed at Ford with her elbow as he attempted to pass her, intent on a console in the large room they'd just entered. From looking for a convenient place to put explosives, somehow this mission seemed to be morphing into a hijacking. She desperately wished Sastarn and Stecklan were with them.

"Move faster," Ford hissed.

Lyrabeth shot him a glare but didn't reply, saving her breath. When they reached the console, they were dismayed to find dark controls, no labels, and no obvious "on" switch. "I guess they don't need reminders," she said when she'd caught her breath a little. Ford ignored her, randomly touching pads and looking for a response, so she said, "I'm going to scout around. Don't move."

Ford grunted in response, and she took that as assent and began examining the walls. One of them had a large transparent panel, and she went to look through. It gave a view of a huge bay, with ranks of Kyan aligned in columns facing the closed hatch at the far side. "I think I just figured out where they all are," she said.

Ford joined her a moment later. "There's the landing force, all right. But why aren't they moving? Are they waiting for something, or is the jammer working?"

"I'd rather not give away our presence trying to find out," Lyrabeth said.

"No, you're right. We need to figure something else out." Ford looked around. "I don't think this is a critical area. Let's try to work our way toward the engines, on the other side of the bay. There must be another access point."

They headed for the door across from the one they'd entered through but were forced to duck back when Ford heard footsteps. A moment later, Lyrabeth heard them too: a clanking sound of metal on metal, much too regular to be human. The room offered no cover; they retreated the way they'd come, but the featureless corridor was no better. Lyrabeth wondered frantically if they could make it back to the access tube before those relentless footsteps reached them, but there was no way they could do it without making enough noise to be heard, she feared. Glancing at Ford, she saw that he had come to the same conclusion. He drew something out of his pocket and frowned, calculating.

Afraid to whisper, she nudged him with a questioning look. He held up the grenade in his hand and jerked his head, motioning for her to move back around the corner. She did, hoping he knew what he was doing.

In the next moment, her heart stopped when Ford made a run straight at the Kyan as it came through the doorway. Miah's tears! she thought in horror, but she didn't have time for more cursing. Ford swung, a feint to make the Kyan turn slightly, and jammed the grenade into a tiny seam at where its neck and shoulder armor met. Then he turned and ran, ducking the Kyan's shot as he skidded around the corner. Lyrabeth shook herself into motion as he ran past, following close on his heels as the pursuing footsteps grew closer.

The blast was larger than she expected, the concussion wave throwing them both to the deckplates. They skidded for a few feet, ears ringing, then staggered to their feet. Lyrabeth stared at the ruins of the cyborg, but Ford wasted no time digging among the debris.

"What—" she began.

"Ah ha," he muttered. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Where are your gloves?" he demanded.

"Uh, on the flyer," she said, recalling that she'd taken them off to perform first aid.

Ford scowled, his own gloved hands full of smoking components. "Wrap them in something. I need you to take the weapon, if it still works."

Lyrabeth patted down her combat suit and came up with a bandage. She wrapped one hand in it and picked up the weapon, feeling it smolder through the fireproof fabric. She tried to figure out where the trigger was without success.

"Remove it from the wrist socket," Ford said, and she swallowed hard as she realized she was actually holding part of a limb attached to the weapon. "Here."

He used his gloved hand to strip off the useless component, which gave off a nauseating smell of burnt flesh as he threw it to the floor. "The trigger circuit should be in there somewhere. Probably activated along their equivalent of a nerve pathway."

"We should go. Someone will have heard that," she managed to say.

"Right. Obviously the jammer doesn't deactivate them," Ford agreed. "Too bad we're in atmosphere; blowing a hole in the hull would be easy enough, but it wouldn't achieve anything. Back toward the engines."

"What's all that you're carrying?" she asked as they jogged along, thankful to leave the stench of the ruined Kyan behind them.

"My next research project, if I ever have one," he replied. "We need to know more about these things. They're too damn hard to kill."

"Why isn't there an alarm?"

"They don't need one. They communicate telepathically," Ford said. "I'm hoping the jammer is interfering with that, though." He paused at a door, stuffing the components in his hands into a small pocket-like pouch at his belt. "This is locked. That's a hopeful sign."

As he worked, Lyrabeth realized she could hear footsteps again. "Hurry," she hissed.

"I am. See if you can get the weapon working."

She fumbled with the weapon, about the size of a large blaster but without a grip or a laser sighting mechanism. She burned her fingers as she tried to get a good hold on it with her bandaged hand, wincing at the pain, but she got it aimed just in time to point it at the Kyan that came around the corner, pausing at the sight of them. It raised its own weapon, and Lyrabeth sucked in a terrified breath.

"Fire!" Ford shouted at her, pounding on the door panel in frustration.

Lyrabeth stepped to the left to make sure he was completely behind her, fingers feeling for anything like a trigger. Fire! she thought at it.

A feeble stream of energy emerged, dissipating into harmlessness before it reached the Kyan's vicinity. It stared at her for a moment, then turned and left.

"Come on!" Ford hissed as the door slid open, tugging at her.

"What was that?" she demanded as they emerged into a darker corridor. Her eyes slowly adapted to the lack of light.

"I don't know. Miah's grace protecting fools, perhaps. Whatever it was, I'm thankful," he replied. "This looks like a service conduit. It should get us closer to the engines."

Lyrabeth gritted her teeth against the pain in her burned hand and followed him through the maze of piping and equipment.