by Justin Bell
"What was in there?" I ask as Drewsk clamors up into the bed of the truck. The buzzing is more of a low nuisance now.
"The Reblon resistance," he replies, his face gray and grim.
"All of them?"
He closes his eyes and lowers his chin, not replying.
"Is there something we can do?" I ask as the three trucks rise.
Over the low, but persistent hum of the buzz in my ears still recovering from the explosion, I hear another sound. A dry wooden splinter, followed by a serious of smaller snapping sounds. I look over towards the row of trees behind the remains of the farmhouse and see several of them breaking away, deep within the forest.
"The only thing we can do is run."
A metal slamming sound echoes over the low crackle of farmhouse flames. One metal crash, followed by a second, then followed by two more, three more, then a whole series of them.
I look back to the trees and see the Crashers pressing their way through the thick trunks of dried wood, bending the trees sideways, sending leaves scattering and branches falling.
"Oh no."
Drewsk cranes his neck, looking back over his shoulder. He doesn't say anything, he pushes past me and slams on the roof of the cab.
"Go, go, go! We've got Crashers!"
A shrill whistle shrieks from the tree line and as I look backwards I see a glowing streak leading a winding tail of smoke spiral out from the trunks. The truck underneath me, begins a tight left turn, swinging the bed of the pick up around as the glowing streak slams into the ground to the right of one of the trucks behind us.
A blast of dirt, smoke, and burnt grass sprays up into the air, snagging the truck and flipping it high in the air. I can see shrouded figures toppling from the bed of the vehicle, one of them flying up high into the air, legs overhead. The truck slams down on the ground with a sickening crunch as glass shatters from the windows.
Drewsk slams the roof again. "Hold!" he shouts, then runs to the rear of the bed and leaps from it, clearing the back hatch and landing in the grass in a graceful crouch.
Not even thinking, I plant my hand and follow him out in a smooth vault, running to where the figures have fallen. The last truck brakes hard, hovering.
"Pung, get up in the truck!" shouts Drewsk at one of the creatures laying there. "Segaris! You breathing?"
"We're okay," he replies.
"Kleethak?" I shout. I'd seen him in the passenger seat of this vehicle, and now I can see him crawling out the side window with his dark cloak whipping around him like a living thing.
"Get on the pick ups now!" Drewsk shouts as three more shrill whistles split the night, announcing rockets. Drewsk is on his knees, reaching into the crushed cab of the truck. He halts for a moment, shaking his head, then backs out on his hands and knees.
"Too late for them!" he shouts back. "We need to go now!"
I see Pung, Segaris, and Kleethak crawl onto the bed of the other truck, then follow Drewsk back into ours where Senator Freejok still sits huddled. Luxen is lying in the other bed as the Reblons and Kleethak gather around him. I'm not even sure Kleethak knows he's injured.
As we surge forward, two rockets strike the fallen truck, splitting the vehicle and blasting it apart in an expanding cloud of yellow and red. I feel the heat at my back as the grav vehicles race forward, skimming over the long grass, dipping left then lurching right. Chattering gunfire echoes from behind us and narrow gouts of dirt race up next to us though they are pretty wide left.
"What's the plan?" I ask Drewsk as we draw away.
He looks over at me. "Most of the Reblon resistance is either dead or missing. We need to form up with the larger group!"
"Where?"
"Off planet!" he shouts.
"Wait, what?"
I look over to see Senator Freejok pulling himself upright, using the cab to support himself as the wind whips past us.
"I can't go off planet!" he screams. His light Reblon fur is flattening in the wind, his eyes wide and frantic.
"Where else are you going to go, Senator?" Drewsk asks.
"They don't know I'm with you. They still think you kidnapped me! Just leave me and we'll figure out a different way."
"There is no different way!" Drewsk shouts. "This is the only way!"
I look behind us in time to see a group of Crashers smash through the burned out wreckage of the farmhouse, splintering what's left of the wood and sending sparks and smoke up into the night sky. They're at a full run, feet pounding over the grassy meadow and they're keeping up with us pretty effectively. Around them I see the familiar shape of the stealth hover-bikes screaming across the ground with large figures huddled over them.
In the other truck I see Pung and Segaris come up into a kneeling position with weapons in hand, firing back at the pursuers.
"They've got hover-bikes!" I shout. "They'll be on us soon!"
Gunfire bursts from one of the bikes with an abrasive cracking sound, sending more tails of dirt up around us.
"This is foolish!" Freejok replies. "I can do better work for you from the inside!"
"Do you think they'll ever trust you again if we let you escape? They'll think it was all a ruse!" Drewsk is getting increasingly angry.
"I'm risking my life for you!" Freejok replies, pulling himself to a full standing position. "I'll be no use off planet!"
Drewsk hesitates for a moment, considering Freejok's words.
Freejok opens his mouth to continue speaking, but he doesn't actually say anything. His lips part and he raises a massive hand, but halts there, looking at Drewsk with a strange curiosity.
"What?" Drewsk asks. "Speak, man!"
The Senator's lips close, then open again... and a thick stream of dark blood spills from his lips.
He takes an uncertain step back and for the first time I notice a growing patch of wetness spreading across his chest.
"He's hit!" I shout. "He's been shot!"
Drewsk is trying to translate the scene before him, trying to understand what happened and why. Freejok presses a hand to his chest, takes another step, then topples over backwards, spilling out of the rear of the truck, his feet twisting up and around to disappear over the edge.
I stare at the ground, watching his crumpled form roll to a rough stop as we press forward at top speed. The shape becomes a dim, indistinguishable mound, then is gone from sight.
"What just happened?" Drewsk asks, still staring at the empty spot where Freejok had been standing.
"Dead," I reply. "The Senator is dead."
The Athelonian glances back, and seemingly, for the first time registers the approaching enemies close behind us. The crashers and hover-bikes are moving at high speed.
"We need to get out of here. We need to get out of here right now."
"Where are we going?" I ask, still looking back into the darkness where the Senator fell, though I can no longer see him.
"We have a secret launch pad about three kilometers east of here. The drivers know the way; they know the protocol."
"But the Reblons are right behind us. They'll follow us there."
"As long as we can get on the ship and get off planet, none of that will matter."
Back behind us, three of the hover-bikes pick up speed and draw closer. Side mounted mini guns erupt, but only strike the ground around us as the trucks swerve through the open meadows.
"Right!" shouts Drewsk. "Through the trees!"
For the first time I notice we're now driving parallel to a thick forest with purple-leaved trees packed one right after the other. I wonder for a moment how we're going to drive through.
"Pop that open, would you?" Drewsk asks me, gesturing towards a metal box that I hadn't noticed before bolted to the floor of the bed. I oblige.
"Pung!" he shouts, and the Reblon appears to hear him over the next truck. "Distraction time!"
I see Pung nod as I work the latch and slide open the metal container. Drewsk reaches in to remove a multi-sectional cylindrical device f
rom the munitions box. His hands move faster than I can follow, connecting and twisting. Seconds later a long tube with contoured double-handles and a triggering system is revealed.
"Is that--?"
"You'll see," he replies, and looks over to the other truck. Pung is smiling and pumping his arm, a similar device clutched in his wide hand. Just next to him, Segaris leans forward with a slimmer weapon in his hand, barking gunfire.
One of the hover-bikes comes up on their flank and a rapid staccato spray of sparks slams from the rounded front. It dips down, swerves suddenly, then flips end over end, spilling the driver out as the slender vehicle spins up into the air.
I turn, looking towards our own flank, worried that the bikes are gaining on us. I see them closing, but still several yards away.
"Got any more of those?" I yell to Drewsk as he's sliding a rocket into the tube.
He shakes his head, then ducks away as a dance of sparks races across the edge of the pickup. He reaches around his back and pulls something free, then tosses it in the air to me. I snatch it in my hand and turn it over, examining it. It looks like a small hand-held plasma pistol.
Gunfire splits the night again in a louder, more sustained bellow, separated from the consistent rumble. I shoot Drewsk a nasty 'are you kidding me with this?' look. He shrugs and continues loading the launcher.
With a jump, the truck swerves left as fire rips through the ground to our right, and I have to slam my hand on the edge of the bed to keep from toppling over the edge.
Headlights punch my vision and a hoverbike accelerates wildly, coming dangerously close to our left rear. I bring the pistol around, cradling it with both hands, sight it for a moment, then squeeze the trigger, sending two spears of energy down towards the bike.
Both bolts plow into the driver's upper torso. As he lurches backwards, his grip tightens on the handles, causing him to swerve right into the path of the bike behind him. They collide in a dull crunch and shower of sparks chased by busted metal and tangled bodies.
But there are so many of them. There are scores of headlights in the distance. The hover-bikes lead the way, but the Crashers are not far behind, running at a full metal-legged, piston-jerking tilt.
"On my mark!" screams Drewsk, leaning over the cab and yelling in the side window.
What mark? We're going to lead this army of Reblons right to this secret launch pad and blow the whole thing wide open. What's the point?
He makes his way back over towards the center of the pickup, steadying himself against the bucking motion of the grav vehicle. He looks over towards Pung and gives him a thumbs up. The Reblon nods and they both sling the tubes up over their shoulders.
"Ready?" Drewsk yells. Gunfire tears through the night, lighting up the darkness in throbbing streams of super heated energy.
As I dodge to the right, I see Pung thrash towards the opposite side, his growling shout audible even over the gunfire.
"Pung?" Drewsk shouts.
Hover-bikes accelerate all around us, dark streaks of metal swarming near with guns flashing. Pung is down and there's no chance of Drewsk holding them off himself.
In the next truck a large hand raises above the edge of the bed, then slams down, fingers gripping. Muscles tense as Pung pushes his way back upright.
"Do it now!" Drewsk shouts as he charges forward, slamming his fist together. The tube leaps in his hands, lurching up as smoke and fire explodes from the front of the barrel. Several yards away I can see Pung mimicking his movements, though he's still half crouched on the bed of the truck.
The moment the tubes fire, both trucks slam to the right, whipping through the tall-grass in ninety degree turns, then screaming forward at top speed, directly towards the trees. Two massive blasts pound the meadow where we were, rolling gray clouds and tangled orange flames, exploding up and out, throwing tendrils of fire in all directions.
The twin rockets create a swift blast and smokescreen, and I can feel the truck accelerating as it tries to pull away from the pursuing vehicles.
For a brief moment I see hover-bikes being swallowed by the massive shot, then others start to swerve around it, careen into each other, then blast through smoke and fire.
As distractions go, it wasn't very successful. Even before the smoke dissipates, I see hover-bikes screaming through it and plowing around it, trailing clouds in narrow spirals. It's not working. Reblon commandos are picking up speed on us again as the hover-bikes direct chattering gunfire towards us.
"How far until the launch pad?" I ask.
"Too far," Drewsk replies, sliding another rocket into the launcher. To my left Pung fires another missile himself, smashing apart the ground and sending three bikes spinning away.
I turn back to the bikes, lifting the plasma pistol again to take aim. That's when I see them.
Even as the smoke clears from Pung's latest volley, Crashers are slamming towards us, leaping with the help of thrusters at the small of their backs. They jet into the air, soar for several yards, then slam down to take three loping strides. Then they jump again and pick up some serious ground.
The two legged walkers are even thicker, broader, and taller than I remember from the previous confrontation. Angular armored plating wraps around a glorified bathtub containing the Reblon pilot. Horizontal control sticks are engulfed by the pilot's hands. Bright headlights at the top arc of the mech suit's frames glare out like menacing eyeballs.
I look over at Drewsk, and he sees it to. His eyes go wide and his face has shifted to a pale shade, the color gone.
He's thinking what I'm thinking. We're not going to make it.
CHAPTER NINE
The first Crasher breaks through the cloud of smoke. Wisps of gray tug at the metal arms and legs as if trying to contain the mechanical beast within the explosion, but there is no containing them. Massive, sloped feet strike the ground with echoing metallic bangs, take two steps, and launch again, drawing closer with each ungainly hurdle. Two more Crashers follow closely behind. Drewsk shifts his aim and lets another rocket fly.
Rather than shooting at the ground, hoping to cause mass confusion with the hover-bikes, as before, Drewsk aims straight at a Crasher.
The missile strikes one of the Crashers in the left shoulder and detonates with a muffled whump, halting the mech suit's momentum and throwing it into a clumsy spin. Much to my surprise, the suit compensates by shoving its other foot back to halt its fall, then twists back around, leaving its metallic arm to tumble to the ground. A howl bellows from the Reblon commando pilot, not of pain, but of rage, as he lifts his other arm, the one connected to the cylindrical mini-gun. It roars to life, stuttering strobes of yellow light from the extended barrel.
To our left, the second truck gets the brunt of the gunfire as bullets punch into its rear left side. The spin sends Pung sprawling. For one frantic moment, as the rocket launcher slips from his fingers it seems to pause in the open air as he tries to grasp it. It's there for a second, then gone, tumbling out of sight over the edge of the wall surrounding the bed. I can almost hear Pung's scream of anguish from here.
I turn and look behind us one more time. A hoverbike bears down upon us from my right with half a dozen others swarming behind it, drawing closer. At least four Crashers slam through the middle of the crowd, gaining on us even as the trucks throttle is pressed to the max.
When the farmhouse detonated it was a dramatic, unexpected, sudden thing that shattered our focus and concentration. One moment it was there, the next it was flying apart amid a blast of flame and smoke.
Now? Now I focus. I look at the approaching vehicles of war, the armored and armed Reblon attack craft, stretching out over the grassy meadow in pursuit formation. My brain races, and everything starts to shift into slow motion around me. The hover-bikes move as if moving through tar, and the Crashers like they're leaping under water.
My eyes dart from place to place as I rise to my feet and take two steps towards the rear of the truck. Sparks dash around me as gunfire
scatters across the surface of the truck.
"Brie!" shouts Drewsk. "Get down! What are you doing?"
I turn back to look at him. "What I have to do."
His eyes narrow as I bend my knees, then realization starts to settle in and they spring open wide as two of his four arms stretching out towards me.
"Don't!"
I do.
My legs flex and shoot straight, launching me into the air and out of the truck, into the waiting arms of Reblon commandos.
