The Dead Fleet (Juggernaut #3)

Forty One

Tila and Malachi screamed as one, deafening each other. So loud they didn't hear the blonde body fall.

Typhon turned back to them and walked closer. He re-holstered his weapon. The staff he tucked into his belt. He leaned close to Tila, his patience now gone.

He clenched his fist and aimed it at Tila's face. She ducked, just. Her cuffed hand restricted her movement. His knuckles grazed her cheek. His fist dented the door where her head had been.

The last time Tila had fought him she could move. He might be stronger than her but she was more nimble. Here he owned the battlefield and she had nowhere left to run.

Malachi snatched at Typhon's wrist, locked his own strong fingers tight around it, squeezed and pulled.

Typhon rotated his own wrist, clamped his own gloved fingers on to Malachi's arm, and the gauntlet flared.

White lightning writhed from the gloves, surging in and through and around Malachi's arm. Tendrils of power arced from Malachi to the metal lockers and to Tila.

Tila filled with pain. Pain from the shock. Pain from Malachi's suffering. Pain for what she had brought them to. Pain for Ellie.

She crushed it within her heart. She fought back.

Tila kicked up and hooked her legs around Typhon's shoulder and using her whole body, anchored fast to the lockers, dragged Typhon away from Malachi. The lightning stopped.

Typhon turned on her. Punches hammered into the wall around her. She twisted, dropped scrambled to the side. But still there was no escape. And there was nowhere left to run.

And Typhon knew it too.

He clamped his gloved hand around Tila's throat and slammed her head into the unforgiving steel of the lockers. Then he squeezed.

Lightning flashed and writhed across her face. Her choking screams never made it past her lips.

Tila clawed at his arms and hands and swiped at his face with weak and empty fingers.

Next to her, Malachi again pulled himself painfully up. He snatched at Typhon but seemed to miss. Typhon wasn't slowed. He kicked hard with his right leg. Tila hopped to her right, away from Malachi. Typhon kicked again with his left leg. Tila dodged left, into Malachi's arms. His hand pressed something into hers. Something cold and metallic. Something familiar.

Typhon stepped in again, his thoughts on one thing. Impatient and frustrated at Tila's endless evasion he failed to notice what he had lost. What Malachi had taken. What Tila now had.

Tila whipped her arm around, the short staff swung like a club, crunching into Typhon's face. The strike split the skin above his temple and blood flowed free.

But it was the only strike she had. Typhon was on them in a moment, inside her swing. Without distance, without momentum, she could only beat it around his head and shoulders. She knew it would still hurt, but she didn't have the strength left to make it hurt enough.

Ellie flashed through her mind.

It can never hurt enough!

Typhon punched Tila in the gut, just once. She doubled over, choking for air. Typhon's fingers closed around her throat and lifted her head up, pushed it back against the lockers, began to squeeze.

Weak and wild and fighting to breathe, she swung the staff at him, but in its shortened form she still had no leverage.

Malachi tore at Typhon's sleeve. Distracted, Typhon loosed his grip on Tila's throat just long enough to lock his other hand around Malachi's unchained wrist, and twist.

Tila sucked in air, then the fingers clamped down again.

'What do you think, Miss Vasquez? Is it time we went our separate ways?'

Tila flinched in anticipation of another shock, but the gauntlet did not ignite. No lightning sparked through them.

Tila knew in that moment he planned to crush the life out of them instead.

She fought for another breath and banged the staff against his head and shoulders to no effect. Every time she drew it back it banged against the locker doors.

Blackness began to cloud the edges of her vision.

The doors, like the wall behind them, were solid and would not move.

Tila felt her own heartbeat booming through her head.

Then from the edge of night Tila found hope. One tiny hope. Barely enough to live and fight for one more minute.

But every minute was worth fighting for.

She stopped hitting Typhon with the staff and raised to her face. She scraped it across locker doors, waiting for it to catch on a hinge, on a frame. Anything.

It caught.

Tila shifted her weakening fingers along its length.

Typhon continued to squeeze, waiting her out, knowing he had her now. Where could she run?

The staff slipped from its anchor. Tila opened her eyes wide, gritted her teeth, snarled in the face of the man trying to kill her.

The staff locked in place. Tila adjusted her grip. Adjusted her angle. Met Typhon's eyes in victory.

She squeezed.

The staff snapped open from both ends. One end kicked hard against the unyielding metal of the locker door. Anchored firm against an immovable object it had nowhere to go but out. The other end of the staff speared forward, propelled from both ends. It exploded forward into Typhon's face and threw him clear across the room. His head snapped back like a dry twig.

Tila dropped the staff. She slumped to the floor, one wrist still fastened tightly next to Malachi's. She drew deep, ragged breaths. The staff rolled towards Typhon's prone body. Tila held a protective hand to her throat and retched. The clouds in her vision dissipated. She was alive.

'Mal,' she said weakly, turning her head, 'Mal, you okay?'

Malachi nodded slowly, wanting to be sure. Everything hurt but nothing was broken. And they were both still alive. That had to count for something.

A movement caught his eye the same instant it caught Tila's.

Typhon rolled over, brought up one knee and planted a foot. He leaned his weight on it and lifted his other leg. He stood, wobbling, and turned ninety degrees to face them, incandescent with rage.

Blood poured from his head where the staff struck. He stood, unsteady, but he stood. His gauntlet sparked to life for the last time, filling the room with a dancing light. The promise of death in the white shroud of an angel.

Typhon closed his hand into a tight, powerful fist.

Then a small sound caught his attention. A sound from the console near the door.

Typhon turned his head. Malachi and Tila followed his gaze.

Standing by the airlock, supporting herself with both hands, was a small, dirty, blonde girl. Weak and pale and afraid. Black burn marks surrounded a hole on the side of her clothing. She held tightly to a grab rail by the airlock door, and cargo webbing was wrapped around one leg.

But she stood; alone, and as tiny and defiant a figure as Tila had ever seen. Tila's realised what was about to happen, and her heart broke.

Ellie rested her palm on the airlock control.

'You're right,' said Ellie. 'You missed me.'

Ellie pressed the button.