The Anglish girl folded the rain poncho expertly and tucked it away in her bag. Mei, meanwhile, had produced a tiny black Moisin-Nagant Mini and held the pistol clasped in both hands. Dawd put a hand on the edge of the curtains, waiting for Colmuir to give the word.
"Ma'am," the master sergeant said, checking the corridor one last time. "You lead, then the prince, then the girls, then me. Dawd will…ah, he will reduce the number of the enemy. You understand me, Sergeant?"
Dawd nodded, licked his lips and thumbed the fire control selector on the Whipsaw to high-explosive full-automatic.
"Go!" Colmuir slammed the door open and rolled out, facing the rear of the train. Petrel ducked past him, the Webley in both hands and took off down the corridor. Tezozуmoc, pale as a ghost stumbled after her, forcing Mei and Cecily to seize his arms and push him along. Dawd threw back the curtains, paused a half-second to let his combat visor adjust to the blaze of morning sunlight as he braced himself and squeezed the trigger on the Whipsaw.
A deafening howl ripped at his ears, defeating even the protection afforded by the earbugs. The window shattered outwards, spraying glass into the air, and a licking tongue of flame slashed across the front of a cargo truck racing alongside. Jehanan soldiers, preparing to leap onto the roof of the train, were sawn in half in a rippling line of explosions as the highex rounds punctured scale, flesh and bone. The roof of the truck vanished in a convulsion of flame. The driver, decapitated, was flung across the cab. The vehicle swerved violently at full acceleration, bounced into the side of the speeding train and was smashed aside.
Dawd leaned out the window, hip grinding into splintered glass, and traversed the Whipsaw across the front of the second truck. Recoil slammed him back against the window-frame. The entire vehicle was immediately obscured by a gout of flame and steam. The engine block stopped sixteen of the flechettes and shattered into a cloud of superheated metal. The front axle sheared off and the truck pitched forward, back end flying up. A dozen Jehanan soldiers flew out, some already smashed into bloody ruin, and then the whole assemblage was cartwheeling violently down the road, engulfed in flying dust and smoke.
The first truck, meantime, spun off the elevated road, plunged nose-first into a nearby field and burst into flame. Dawd ducked back inside. Machine-gun fire from the third pursuer, which had deftly swerved past the first two wrecks, marched along the side of the train, shattering windows. Heavy, thumb-sized rounds tore through the wood beside the sergeant's head. Splinters stippled his armor and spanged away from his visor.
"Damn!" Dawd leapt to the side, blood streaking the side of his jaw. The curtains disappeared, snatched away by the hail of gunfire tearing into the siding. The sergeant switched the Whipsaw to armor-piercing, braced his legs and squeezed the trigger again.
This time the jolt of flame sheared through the side of the compartment, blowing out a huge cloud of metal, wood and fabric. The third truck, hanging back a bit, suddenly came into view as the wall of the train vanished in a rain of depleted uranium needles. Dawd grinned, face blackening with propellant gasses, and walked the stuttering, sun-bright line of explosions across the engine, cab and cargo bay.
The entire vehicle convulsed, perforated by thousands of tiny punctures. The driver vanished in a red haze, the soldiers with their assault rifles staggered, cut in half, and then tumbled out onto the road in a welter of arms and legs and bloody tails. The truck staggered, swerved wildly, the roof of the cab sliding back with a crash into the truck bed, bounced over the margin of the road and rolled, spewing chunks of metal, spraying liters of blood and vanished into a stand of stumpy-looking trees in a plume of dust.
The train raced onward and Dawd swung round, suddenly thinking of the other side of the passenger car, in time to have the butt of a HK-45B smash into his face. The combat visor held, deflecting some of the blow, but his head flew back, slamming into the wall. A Jehanan in the uniform of the kujen of Takshila loomed in the doorway, reversing his assault rifle.
Dawd's hand clenched on the Whipsaw's trigger. Flame flooded the cabin, setting the seats, walls and remains of the ceiling alight. The Jehanan vanished, torn apart by a buzzsaw burst of armor-piercing, and the doorway and the far wall of the passageway disintegrated. A clear view of a field of waving grain was revealed through the ragged opening. The sergeant staggered up, switched the targeting selector to semi-automatic, and swung groggily out into the remains of the corridor.
Smoke whipped away into the slipstream of the train. Dawd caught sight of another truck racing past on the roadway, and then tried to twist left as another Jehanan charged up the corridor. This one had a bayonet affixed to his rifle and the muzzle of the HK-45B was spitting flame. The ripping sound drowned out the rattling roar of the train wheels. Dawd staggered backwards as the burst ripped across combatskin covering his left thigh and chest, but most of the heavy 8mm bullets smashed into the Whipsaw, reducing the squad support weapon to tangled, smoking-hot wreckage and tearing the remains from his hands.
The Jehanan lunged, bayonet gleaming wickedly, and Dawd caught the blow on his right forearm. Metal pierced the ablative armor, tore through his combat-skin and washed his arm with a rushing cold feeling. The slick bore down, jaws gaping, and the sergeant groped with his left hand, seized the Nambu and emptied the clip directly into the creature's snout.
A spray of blood painted the ceiling, blinding the next soldier swarming up the corridor. Dawd kicked the body of the first aside, forced himself up with one hand and thumbed the second magazine coil into the automatic. There was a burst of full-auto fire, he ducked and shot back into the smoke-choked corridor. His visor compensated for the haze and two more Jehanan staggered, pitching backwards. But there were more in the corridor behind them.
Dawd cursed; his right arm felt cold and weak and his left hip was throbbing ferociously. He ducked into the next compartment and found it choked with wounded civilians. The window was gone, ripped away by the machine-gun fire from the trucks, and the passengers were crying piteously, snouts smeared with blood, clutching their wounded to scaly chests. Broken glass was everywhere.
"Shit!" The sergeant popped back out into the corridor and pitched a handful of grenades at the muzzle-flashes. More 8mm slapped past him and he ran, bouncing from side to side. The whoomp-whoomp-whoomp of explosions propelled him down the passage. The rear half of the train car blew apart, sending a gout of smoke, wood and bodies cascading onto the tracks. The roof buckled, sending a rush of flame into the morning air. A long plume of black smoke spilled out behind the ruined car.
Still the train rushed on, heedless, clattering down the long straightaway into the outskirts of Parus.
The roar of an assault rifle in the passageway snapped Parker awake and sent his blood racing with horror. For a moment, he didn't know what to do. His mind started to question its identification of the violent sound, but his skin was flushed and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end.
Magdalena had jerked awake as well, and her head darted from side to side. "I smell -" she started to declare, and was immediately drowned out by a second burst of machine-gun fire. The little window looking out into the passage shattered, and something zzzzinged into the wooden wall above Parker's head.
"Blessed Mother Mary!" the pilot gasped, throwing himself onto the floor, hands over his head. "Get down, Mags!"
The Hesht plastered herself to the floor, mostly on top of Parker, which made him cry out in a muffled voice. Desperate to breathe, he twisted aside, head coming up slightly. Peering over the Hesht's furry shoulder, he caught sight of a human walking backwards, silhouetted against the windows lining the passageway. A Macana assault rifle bucked in his hands, fouling the air with propellant smoke.