Lars sighed. “Spill it, Johnny.”
“We need to take ours from the back. It’s the only place we can guarantee a shot will get through.”
“Unless you can hit one of the maneuvering jets.”
“Gotcha.”
“Johnny, Brenden, Avery, take the portside. Vishlog...” He let his words trail off as the Dreth’s craft careened past him and executed a credible barrel roll directly into the path of the oncoming Mark II.
“Dayum...” Johnny breathed and swept his craft into a steep turn. “Brendan, Avery, follow me in.”
“Goddamn,” Lars muttered and accelerated sharply. “Hold on, Steph.”
Hold on? Hell, no! Her stomach flipped and she laughed. “These assholes won’t know what hit them.”
“Uh, Steph?” Lars began but didn’t have time for more. The Mark II opened fire, it’s gunners too nimble and accurate for comfort. He jinked and spun and the hair on the back of his neck rose as she drew power from the stars around them.
The others used the gunners’ distraction to sneak around the ship and approach the engines from behind, but the gun batteries opened up. Stephanie shrieked in outrage as Brenden’s fighter was clipped and spiraled momentarily out of control.
“We’re good, Steph.” His assurance might have sounded more convincing if it hadn’t sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth.
“Yup. We...got...this...” Marcus echoed as the little craft twisted out of the path of another barrage. It came in under the guns to skid along an open patch of ground at the base of a small mountain. “We’re just gonna knock.”
Stephanie didn’t see what they did next because Lars plunged their fighter into a steep dive and skimmed under the nose of the Mark II. She caught sight of its guns and that was all she needed.
Two fireballs into the closest barrels led to a chain reaction inside the ship as Johnny’s shots struck the engines, followed closely by Avery’s attack.
“We’ll get the gunboat clear,” Johnny called. “You guys go take care of Brenden and Marcus.
“Will do,” Lars replied. “Vishlog.”
“Roger that,” the Dreth replied and sounded far too calm for someone who rocketed directly toward the side of a mountain.
“Vishlog!”
She didn’t bother to wonder what the warrior was doing. If he was determined to take care of that emplacement, she had the other. And if he killed himself doing it, she would make him wish he’d never been born.
She concentrated more energy, targeted the battery, and launched the magic. Lars cried out in alarm as it materialized in front of the cockpit before it careened away.
“Quit your bitching and get me down there,” she snapped, and darkness edged her tones.
“Dammit.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He didn’t need to see her face to know Morgana was back and in control. Instead, he focused on the task at hand and set the fighter down beside Brenden, glad to see the damage hadn’t been too bad. The little jets couldn’t take much.
“Washington Revere, you have the comms. I repeat, you have the comms.”
The Washington’s response was swift and unequivocal. “We have them gagged. You need to get them bagged.”
“Roger that.” Lars popped the cockpit and vaulted out. He didn’t bother to look back for Stephanie. She leapt up and out, tumbled smoothly, and landed beside the other craft.
There was no-one inside.
“Talk to me, Brenden...Marcus...”
“We found the entrance.”
Before she could ask where, a flare lit up the hillside ahead of them. “Got it.”
“Hurry.”
As if she needed to be told when she could hear that much gunfire in the background. “How’s Zee?”
“Not happy about being in the bag.”
“I’m coming.”
As if to punctuate her words, a roar resounded from the mountainside above her. Vishlog’s fighter twisted away from it but spun out of control, and Stephanie flung her hand upward as though she could snatch it out of the sky and set it down herself.
Which she did.
The magic twisted away from her fingers to engulf the out-of-control craft and drag it back to settle beside the other two. She didn’t look back but raced forward to the source of the flare.
“Frog. Marcus. Johnny. I need you here.”
Their affirmatives came as a blurry chorus as she reached where Brenden and Marcus huddled beside the entrance and struggled to control a bagful of squirming, pissed-off cat. “Let me get that for you,” she snarled and dispatched a dagger-like tendril of energy into the door lock.
It was exactly like unlocking the door in the palace in what seemed like forever ago. The mechanism was unfamiliar, but the magic knew what to do. Unlock, Stephanie commanded it, and unlock it did. The door slid open and they hurried inside, hearing the others touch down behind them.
“Frog!”
“I’m here. I’m here,” he protested as he ran. “Don’t ever let him fly again. You think he’s crazy in a fight? You haven’t seen him fly!” His voice faded as he looked at her face. “What do you need?”
“You know what I brought you here for. Go do it.”
The team crowded inside, and the doors cycled through. Both cats were released from the bags they’d been put in to protect them during the flight over and neither were very happy.
They laid their ears back and batted at the guys who’d unzipped them. Stephanie hissed at them and they turned to her immediately. They butted her legs with their heads until she laid a hand on each of them. The doors slid open and she raised a shield between her team and the incoming fire.
“I need to be here,” Frog said and highlighted the space on the map in their HUDs.
The team raced forward as one. Stephanie held the shield before them with one hand and fired small bursts of energy with the other. The guys fired at anything that appeared behind them or in the corridors they passed, and the cats paced solemnly on either side of her. A layer of glowing magic overlaid their skins.
When they reached the central control room, the doors were shut.
“Not gonna stand,” Morgana snapped, and the shield blazed with sudden intensity as she pressed it against the doors.
It was as though she’d used a cutting torch, and Lars led the team through as soon as the barrier melted and the magic disappeared. Vishlog and Brendan moved left and Zeekat bounded at their sides. Lars and Avery went right with Bumblebee, and Johnny and Frog blasted their way into one corner where they proceeded to strip the cover from the console.
While they worked to hook up the gear they’d brought, the others neutralized the rebels who manned the control center while Marcus and Stephanie kept the corridor clear.
“I’m supposed to keep you out of trouble,” he grumbled as she blazed a volley at a small group of defenders.
Before she could reply, he fired in the opposite direction.
Morgana snickered. “You are.”
More defenders appeared, and they stepped into the control center.
“This would be so much easier if you hadn’t melted the door!”
“Are you having a rough day?” she asked and didn’t sound sympathetic in the least.
Marcus fired another burst and didn’t reply.
“Hold the fort,” she said and moved away.
He glanced over his shoulder as she moved to the center of the control room. Energy vibrated around him as she began drawing it into herself, and Lars, Avery, and Vishlog came to stand on either side of him.
“We got you, bro.”
The words had no sooner left Avery’s mouth than Morgana spoke. Her crisp, clear tones echoed over the internal communications system.
“Residents of Rebel Base Arkwright,” she said. “Residents of Rebel Base Arkwright. Evacuate now. I repeat. Residents of Rebel Base Arkwright must evacuate now. This is your final warning.”
“Uh oh,” Avery sai
d.
“Shit.”
“Hrageth’s balls on a stick.”
“Don’t they know evacuate means leave?” Marcus whined as a dozen rebels raced down the corridor toward the door.
“It doesn’t look like it,” Lars responded, and they fired in unison.
Morgana’s voice rang out again. “You were warned. Hell is about to be unleashed on this planet. Evacuate now!”
A second squad of rebels appeared, these more heavily armored than the last. The team leader dropped to one knee, his movement mirrored by those on either side of him.
“This will be fun,” he said but didn’t sound like he meant it.
Behind him, Frog and Johnny worked like maniacs to strip as much information as they could from the rebel systems. They were doing well until one of the security systems kicked in and activated a worm.
“Crap,” Frog muttered, and his fingers danced over the keyboard he’d plugged in. “I can’t stop it.”
Johnny looked over his shoulder. “Pull the plug, man.”
His teammate did exactly that and the pair stowed their gear, shoved it into packs, and pulled them onto their backs. Morgana pulled so much energy they could see it moving into her in waves.
“This is gonna hurt,” Frog muttered, and his companion had no answer. The cats crouched beside them, their gleaming eyes fixed on their mistress as if they watched a hunter about to pounce.
Frog called out to her. “Steph, we’re done here. The system’s in meltdown. Steph!”
“Evacuate Rebel Base Arkwright,” Morgana intoned. “Five minutes to base destruction.”
The temperature rose around them.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Frog ran up to Stephanie and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Steph! We’re done.”
“Almost,” she replied. “Almost.”
“No. Seriously, girl. We are done!”
He stared at her and noticed the rising temperature. The heat made itself felt through the soles of his boots. He stared as Stephanie Morgana flexed her shoulders, spread her hands, and raised them as though lifting a heavy weight.
“Not. Quite. Yet,” she declared coldly.
Sweat rolled down her skin, drenched her shirt, and soaked her hair. With a groan, she bent her elbows and raised her hands higher as though lifting weights. When they reached chest height, she gave a final grunt of effort, then dropped to her knees and her palms thunked onto the floor.
Frog tucked a hand under her arm and helped her regain her feet. “Holy crap, Steph. You’re running a fever.”
She laughed, a short unhappy sound, and Morgana vanished as swiftly as she’d come. “It’s not me.”
Her smile faded. “It’s time to go—like, run! Run, now!”
She staggered to where the guys had formed a line in front of the door and pinned the rebels down with concerted fire. “Run!”
Lars glanced over his shoulder and reversed to take hold of her other arm. He glared at Frog. “What did you do? Let her pull too much?”
His teammate shook his head. “Me? Hell, no! It was her idea to start pulling magma. She’s…she’s going to blow this place.”
Stephanie ignored them, shook herself free of their hands, and stumbled forward to shove Vishlog hard in the back. “Get moving! Move! Move! Move!”
She pounded on his huge bulk with both hands. “Move your outsized ass!”
He looked back and his eyes widened. Without hesitation, he heaved her into his arms and raced through the gaping hole where the door had been.
“Hey!”
“You have tiny legs,” he told her and maintained his grip as he tucked her under one arm and braced his blaster against his side.
“I can run on my own.”
“You nearly fell over,” Frog reminded her from where he ran directly behind them.
“Not helping.”
“Tiny legs,” the Dreth repeated. “Little feet. You won’t keep up.”
“Frog’s shorter than me.”
“I can run faster than you.”
“You’d better be able to,” she warned, “because...when...we get back—”
She gave up trying to speak as the breath was jolted out with every step Vishlog took. The cats bounded alongside, and the guys formed a barrier of living flesh on either side.
Stephanie tried to raise a shield to help protect them but couldn’t. Not only did being carried like a sack of potatoes wreck her concentration, but fatigue threaded its way through her body.
“How many can we fit into a fighter?” Brenden asked.
“Not enough,” Lars replied. “Turn here.”
The map flashed up in their HUDS and they marked the intersection.
“We’re heading to the hangar.”
“Isn’t that down?”
“Yeah, Frog. What about it?”
“I think she pulled magma up from the core!”
“Holy—”
“Head for the front,” Johnny interjected. “I’m calling the Navy in. They owe us a favor.”
“Why?”
“We stopped their asses being barbecued by that Mark IV.”
They reached the intersection and continued their headlong race. Anyone who even tried to attack was eliminated as rapidly as they appeared. One group of rebels rounded a corner ahead of them, took one look at the wild-eyed team that bolted toward them, and pivoted back the way they’d come.
They watched the team race past from where they leaned flat against the wall and didn’t dare to even twitch. They got to live a bit longer. Even when they slipped into the corridor behind the team and headed the opposite way, the guys left them alone.
It was hard to run and fight a rear-guard action. As long as the rebels kept moving, they could go.
“I wonder what they know that we don’t,” Marcus muttered from his place in the lead.
“Don’t know. Don’t care. We’re almost there.”
The finally rounded the last corner and hurtled toward the entrance, but the doors in front of them opened and a half-dozen armored figures barreled through.
“Oh, for—” Lars raised his blaster, ready to fire, but Johnny knocked it aside. “What the hell?”
He received his answer when the armored figures divided three to each side of the corridor, their weapons aimed past them back the way they’d come. They were marines. The team leader jogged forward as they advanced a short way past the team, and a new voice spoke over their comms.
“I reckon this is a three-round rescue. Did you have to blow a mountain up?”
“It hasn’t blown yet,” Frog retorted and looked over his shoulder. “Crap. Run!”
“Not until we get you boys on board.”
“Run!” he yelled, again, but the marines stood firm and covered the corridor behind them. What good they thought their blasters would do against the slowly rising flow of magma, he didn’t know and he didn’t intend to ask.
Lars looked back to see what had his teammate so upset and stepped out of the path of his men. “Keep going!” he roared when they hesitated. “Go! Go! Go!”
“You never heard of a flare?” the pilot taunted, but his voice was tense.
They clattered up the ramp of the gunship hard-docked against the door with a temporary umbilical that joined the gunship to the ruined front.
“Excuse the mess,” the pilot added as he monitored their progress into the ship. “We knocked but no-one was home.”
Frog and Johnny sprinted up the ramp, raced into the hold, and stopped when they reached the back wall. They were followed by the marines, who saw them watching and made a show of sauntering out through the blasted door, pausing to unlock the umbilical, and meandering up the ramp again.
It was almost too much for the pilot.
“Move your asses, you jar-headed knuckle draggers. Your backsides might be fireproof, but my ship isn’t.”
The last marine stood at the edge of the ramp and stared as the floor sizzled.
“D
ocherty!”
“Say you’re sorry.”
“I’ll leave your sorry ass!”
“Wrong answer.”
“Docherty!”
The marine stared into the base as the heat rose around them.
The captain pushed past and headed to the cockpit. His voice bellowed through their comms shortly after. “Say you’re sorry.”
“Fine! I’m sorry.” The marine turned and trotted into the hold, and the pilot cycled the doors, released the umbilical, and continued. “I’m sorry you’re such a thin-skinned, knuckle-dragging prick, who needs his momma.”
The marines turned their heads toward the cockpit access, and Lars thought he heard a unanimous growl. The pilot, however, was oblivious. “I’m sorry you need assistance wiping your backside and missed toilet training with the rest of your squad. I’m sorry the Navy felt so sorry for you that—”
“Get us off this rock!”
None of them knew what the captain did, but the gunship lifted and headed away from the rebel base. Docherty sat on the floor and started to laugh as he raised his hand for the rest of the squad to high five. When they were done, he turned his palm upward and rubbed his fingers together.
The other marines sighed, pulled cred sticks from pouches on their weapons harnesses, and placed them in his open palm. Their captain appeared shortly afterward and surveyed the scene.
“Gimme those!” he demanded and snatched the cred sticks from the man’s palm. “Of all the machoistic idiotic—”
One of the marines cleared his throat and tilted his chin toward Lars and the team, who stared in stunned surprise. Frog waved his hand at them.
“Oh, no. Don’t mind us. Please. Do carry on. We’re curious, now, aren’t we guys?” He looked at his teammates, but they didn’t look back. Instead, they leaned against the hull to catch their breath.
Vishlog slid to sit on the floor and eased Stephanie into his lap. Frog shrugged. “Well, I’m curious, so...”
Docherty smirked, lurched to his feet, and moved to sit against the side of the craft. “It’s a long story.”
The other man leaned back. “It’s a long flight,” he said but, before Docherty could continue, a hologram appeared in the center of the hold to display the base they’d just left.
Witch Of The Federation (Federal Histories Book 2) Page 66
