Four strides into his sprint, he was hit! And hit again! An electric, numbing jolt ran up his spine. Agony! He pushed his legs to move, but they refused to obey. Explosions! Explosions lasted forever, and he drifted into merciful unconsciousness.
Buccari felt searing pain deep in her shoulder. Every time she fired the assault rifle, it pounded her torn muscles. She wiped perspiration from her eyes and fumbled with her ammo belt. There was only one clip left. Chastain, from his position below her, jumped around a boulder and fired his rifle. A salvo of answering laser beams rang through the air. Bullets splattered the rocks, exploding their surfaces into shards and chips of granite. Chastain slumped behind the boulders and looked up at her, his face red and blistered, his beard smoking. He was crying.
So was she. Buccari felt the grip of panic. Her own hair was singed short and blisters were rising on her cheeks. In the open, on the ridge beyond the rocks, MacArthur lay sprawled on his back— not moving. Captain lay next to him, wings draped over the human's still form.
"He's down, Jocko!" Buccari shouted. "We can't save him! We can't!"
Chastain said nothing, his shoulders shaking. Cannon shells exploded in rolling waves around them, showering them with rock splinters. Laser beams cooked the air. Chastain leapt to the side and fired his assault rife, the quick burst emptying his magazine—the metal clip rang on the ground. He jerked behind cover and resolutely shoved in another ammo clip. Buccari knew it was his last. More cannon shells thudded among the rocks, and shrapnel tap-danced over the mountain granite.
"I don't want to leave him either, Jocko!" she shouted in despair. "He wouldn't want us to die, Jocko. Not when we can get away."
Gunfire erupted from higher up. She broke her stare from the attackers and looked up to see Tatum making his way through the boulders along the back side of the ridge. She figured he was starting the escape. With one arm he needed a head start. If Tatum could make it, then she could, too. She turned back to the aliens and steeled herself to take another shot. She heard her name being called. Tatum was yelling at her! She turned back to him. He was cupping his one hand and bellowing, but the noise of the battle was too loud. A lull struck, and she could hear some of his words.
"Hang on… cliff dwellers…" he shouted.
Cliff dwellers? Tonto and X.O.? What could they do? She looked down at Chastain. His rifle pointed at the ground. He was staring into the sky. She followed his gaze. Cliff dwellers! Hunters! Hundreds of them—thousands! Like a thin layer of smoke from the west, still far away. A shrill whistling drifted on the wind. The konish soldiers stopped firing, all staring at the oncoming horde.
"Keep firing!" Buccari screamed. She stepped around the rock and took aim at a konish soldier. The assault rifle kicked her shoulder and the soldier collapsed. The others followed her lead, and the confused kones tried to direct their attention in both directions. Laser blasters, their power diminishing, raked the rocky mountain while cannon shells exploded without interruption.
"Colonel Longo!" the subordinate shouted, nervously looking at the black cloud spreading across the sky. "Power cells are running down. Should we not consider withdrawing?"
Longo stared at the leading elements of the mountain flyers. The first arrows struck, and Longo realized the situation had swung badly out of control. A torrent of short, metal-barbed shafts rippled across the grassy ridge—a thin, swift downpour of pain. Longo looked at his thigh; a black-fletched arrow protruded from his haunch. Pain coursed through his leg.
"Blasters!" Longo screamed. "Shoot the flyers! Shoot them!"
Kones swung their weapons to the new enemy. None of the soldiers had been killed, but most had received painful wounds; several had been incapacitated by multiple wounds. With the fear of death expanding in their souls, the konish soldiers swept their fading beams through the massed flying creatures, raking dozens of them from the sky, praying their power cells would last. Another wave of arrows splattered across the konish lines. Four kones went to their knees, still trying to fire their weapons, knowing they were dying.
And another wave. Longo counted six arrows in his own body; the one in his neck prevented him from issuing orders. He, too, was dying. More hunters fell from the sky, small bodies burned and broken, many with arrows still nocked in their bows. More kones succumbed. More arrows, more arrows—more arrows.
The kones lay dead, mountainous carcasses bristling with black shafts. Sprinkled around the bulky bodies of the kones were dozens of small wasted forms, the twisted and charred bodies of dead hunters. A horde of living hunters—sorrowful victors— descended from the skies and formed orderly groups.
Buccari ran down the hill toward MacArthur's limp form. Chastain beat her there, along with X.O. and Tonto. Chastain threw his jacket over MacArthur's torso. The hulking Marine looked up and moved to stop her.
"No, Lieutenant. It's real bad," Chastain sobbed, tears rolling down his blistered and blackened face. "Mac's not going to make it."
"He's alive?" Buccari asked.
Chastain nodded, holding her tightly by the shoulders.
She shook loose and staggered the short distance to where MacArthur sprawled, his legs angled grotesquely. The body of the dead hunter embraced the Marine, both forms covered by Chastain's jacket. Captain's black eyes stared vacantly into the blue sky. As Buccari stumbled up to the fallen warriors, X.O. moved to close the fallen hunter's eyes, all the while whistling a shrill, mournful wail. Tonto stood near, visibly trembling, but also whistling mournfully.
MacArthur' s chest heaved in shallow, pained breaths. She knelt down, putting his face in shadow. He blinked, his eyes focused, and he turned his head to her. His hand lifted from the ground.
"Hold…" he gasped. "Sharl…hold my hand." Tears rolled across his tortured face. Buccari took the strong, callused hand in hers and held it to her cheek.
"Let me…touch you…" he whispered. She relaxed her grip and felt his fingers glide over her face, lingering on the line of her scar. "Mac," she sobbed. "Mac, I…"
"In truth, you're beautiful, Shar—" His hand tightened around her wrist, and the light in his gray eyes faded out.
Chapter 44. Citizens
Cassy Quinn stood on the new planet, more resolved than bereaved. She had work to do—hard work—on a new planet, a planet with limitless potential, something she had dreamed of, something she had trained for. But she had forgotten about gravity. Her heart struggled to force blood to her extremities; her legs felt leaden, her head ached, and she was cold. Patience, she told herself, it had only been two weeks since they had landed.
"You okay, Commander?" Godonov asked. They had finished checking the lake station survey instruments. "You're pale." "I'm okay, Nes," she replied. "Just tired."
"You should take some time off and relax," he said. "You've been working too hard. Enjoy the scenery." He waved his hand at the hanging glaciers and snowcapped mountains. Bronze-tufted ducks, alarmed at their presence, ran along the water's surface and glided across the smooth surface of the lake. A large fish rolled its belly at them.
"I'm too excited to relax," Quinn answered.
The Legion scientists walked along the lakeshore and rounded the forested point of the protected cove, receiving welcome shelter from the cool lake breeze. The settlement clearing spread before them. Kateos and Dowornobb, helmets off, reclined on sun-washed grass above the sandy beach. Dowornobb waved.