Far Horizon (Juggernaut #4)

Forty Eight

Nina watched Malachi go, then hesitantly wrenched herself away. He was right, the datapad was vital information now, but how she wished she could trade it for his safety.

The drone flew lower now. Some of the security team had found their weapons and were still taking opportunity fire where they could, but the results were poor. The damage to the drone was on the upper surface. From down here they had no chance of hitting any critical system. The drone reached the end of the bay and turned back. The power core growled, and it aimed for two of the men who provided covering fire while the others spread out to find a better angle.

Above Malachi, the fifth team member tried to wave him away.

"Get out of here, kid. We have this under control."

Malachi made a doubtful face as he ran past a burning cargo shuttle.

"Are you sure?"

The drone flew lower, and fired. The men on the ground were at least expecting this attack, so they were already diving to the side when the blast disinterested their cover. Burning wreckage fountained through the bay and crashed in front of Malachi.

"Go! Run!" said the man above Malachi again.

Malachi ignored him, leapt through the flames and hunted in the spaces between the cargo underneath the twisted walkway.

"What are you doing?" the man called.

"I'm looking for your rocket launcher."

"Stay away from that. It's dangerous."

Malachi gestured wildly around him to take in the entire cargo bay. "It's already dangerous, but it's our only hope against that drone." He waved his makeshift lasso. "If we can hold it, just for few seconds, we can get a clear shot."

Realisation dawned on the man above him. As desperate plans went, it might just work. He pointed. "It's over there, on top of those crates. You'll have to climb to get it."

The drone growled overhead, heading for the far end of the bay.

Malachi threw the bundle over his head and ran for the crates. The man above him yelled at the rest of the team. "We need an operator for the rocket launcher," and relayed the rest of Malachi's plan.

The drone turned at the end of the bay.

Malachi reached the top of the crate and picked up the launcher. It was a heavy weapon, and was still weighed down by the second and final rocket. Malachi knelt down and lowered the weapon to another team member. He took one look at it and groaned.

"Trigger mechanism is broken. I can't fire this."

"It's coming back," said Malachi. He quickly tied one of the strap to the crate he stood on. He could only hope it would be heavy enough to work as an anchor.

"You need to. This won't hold for long. If it works you'll only have a few seconds.

"I can't fire it. If you have another way to launching a rocket, be my guest."

The drone began the approach back, and flew low.

Malachi looked at the strap he held in despair. They only had one shot, and now they didn't even have that. They couldn't shoot the drone down without the rocket, and with no firing mechanism they had no way to launch it.

He spun the hooked end of the strap in his hand, his brain working quickly.

Or did they?

"Quick, give me the rocket," he said.

"I can't fire it."

"Take it out the launcher, prime it or whatever you do, and give it to me." He looped the strap around the hook and pulled it slack.

The man on the ground slapped the control to release the round, and tossed it up to Malachi. Malachi caught it, wrapped his makeshift noose around it, and draw it tight.

The drone swept forward, weapon aiming low.

Malachi spun his slingshot, judged the moment, and released. The rocket sailed up into the path of the drone. It reached its apex as the drone passed underneath. The drone growled as the power core surged. Below Malachi, the carbines opened fire, aiming above the drone. The criss-crossed beams found their target, and the rocket exploded.

The crack of the detonation smacked the now-burning drone from the air, directly on top of the crates Malachi was standing on. It crashed into the deck and ploughed into the shuttle it had shot full of holes only minutes before. The weapon wedged underneath the shuttle's body, and the machine growled again as it tried to withdraw.

"Put that thing out of its misery," shouted the fifth man.

The fire team ran forward. The pushed their carbine barrels into the open hull of the drone and pulled the triggers. The combined fire-power shredded internal components. Sensors were destroyed, blinding the beast. They severed power feeds and processing units. Burned through data storage, and severed comms. The drone growled and died, and was silent once more.

"That kid deserves a medal," said one of the men.

"Where did he go?" said another.

They left the burning wreckage of the drone and walked back to Malachi's crate. The crate and its contents had been crushed by the falling drone, and barrels had spilled across the deck. To one side was Malachi. He lay face down, blood pooled underneath him. One arm had been crushed. They dropped their weapons and rushed to help. They cleared space around him, and rolled him to his back. His clothes were not torn but they were covered in blood. He was still breathing. His lips were parted, his nostrils flared. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps. His skin was pale. His eyes wide and his gaze unfocussed.

His hand was missing.

"Medic!"