Odd Girl Out

"That won't stop them for long," Bayta warned as she surveyed our handiwork.

"It won't stop them at all," I corrected, hopping up on the nearest of the fallen crates and starting on the webbing of the stack on the other side of the door. "Bayta, can you climb up that stack over there and get ready to push the top of this one?

"I'll do it," Rebekah volunteered before Bayta could answer. Grabbing a double handful of webbing, she started up.

I returned my attention to my own stack and finished slicing through the webbing. "Bayta, give me a hand here," I called as I again stuck the blade into the side of one of the crates.

"They're coming," Bayta murmured as she got into position around the back side of the stack.

"I know," I said. "Rebekah?"

"Almost ready," she called.

I nodded and got a grip on the multitool. Dropping this stack on top of the first one ought to leave the door properly blocked.

I was still standing there, waiting for Rebekah to get into position, when the door slid open and a large Halka strode though.

For a split second I hesitated, trying to decide if I could take the time to pull my multitool out of the crate so that I would have at least that much of a weapon in hand. Probably not, I concluded regretfully, and started to step away from the stack into the Halka's path.

But to my surprise, I found Bayta was already there. "Stop!" she ordered, her voice bold and menacing, her hands upstretched like a wizard from a dit rec fantasy standing against the oncoming hordes of hell.

It was so unexpected that the Halka actually stopped, the Modhri controlling him apparently as stunned by Bayta's action as I was.

And as he and Bayta stared across the two-meter gap at each other, she with righteous anger, he with utter disbelief, I felt the stack beside me start to tip. Breaking my own paralysis, I threw my full weight against my multitool.

By the time the Halka saw it coming, it was already too late. He leaped into the car, but the top of the falling stack caught him across his upper back, slamming him forward and downward as the rest of the crates fell in a jumble across the doorway.

But he wasn't down and out, not yet. Even as I charged him, he struggled to his hands and knees, his flat bulldog face sniveling back and forth as he looked for a target. He spotted me and reared up on his knees, cocking his arm and closed right hand over his shoulder.

I beat the throw by about a quarter second, sending a spinning kick to the side of his head that twisted him a quarter turn on his knees before dropping him flat on his face.

And as the thud of his landing echoed across the car, his hand opened and something small and lumpy rolled through the limp fingers onto the floor.

A chunk of Modhran coral.

Beside me, I heard a sharp intake of air, and I turned to find Bayta staring wide-eyed at the coral. "It's all right," I said quickly. "He never got it anywhere near me."

There was a thud from somewhere. I looked over at the pile of crates as a second thud sounded, and saw the box immediately in front of the door quiver. "That's not going to hold him for long," Bayta said tightly.

"No, but at least he can't send more than two walkers at it at a time," I pointed out. "One of the many advantages of doorways."

"I suppose." She looked around the car. "We should probably make the pile bigger."

"Unfortunately, we can't," I said. "The rest of the stacks are too far away to do any good, and most of the individual crates are probably too heavy for the three of us to manually move over to the pile. Time to retreat to the rear car and see what we can come up with there."

"All right," Bayta said. "Rebekah?"

"I'm here," Rebekah called, coming around from the side of the stack I'd sent her to climb.

"We're going back to the next car," Bayta said as I took her arm and started toward the door leading to the next baggage car. "Come on."

"Wait a minute," Rebekah said.

We both turned back to her. "What is it?" Bayta asked.

Rebekah visibly braced herself. "I was thinking maybe I should stay here."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bayta said firmly. "Come on, now."

"I'm not being ridiculous," Rebekah countered. Her voice was trembling, but her tone was as firm as Bayta's. "I mean …he doesn't want you and Mr. Compton."

"If you stay, you'll be putting your people at terrible risk," Bayta reminded her. "You can't do that, not even for us."

"She wouldn't be putting them at risk," I murmured.

"If the Modhri gets hold of her—" Bayta broke off, staring at me in disbelief. "Are you suggesting she should—? Frank!"

Actually, that wasn't what I was suggesting at all. I opened my mouth to tell her so—"Mr. Compton and I have already been through this," Rebekah said. "I was willing to give up my life for you. I'm even more willing to give it up for the Melding." She looked at me, a silent plea in her eyes.

I grimaced. But she was right. She and I already knew why capturing her wouldn't do the Modhri any good. With Halkan walkers beating on our front door, there was no reason why Bayta needed to know, too. After all, the Modhri might decide he wanted a prisoner or two for questioning. Better if at least one of those prisoners didn't know anything. "Your nobility does you credit," I went on. "But Bayta's right. We're not leaving you behind, which means that all this conversation is doing is wasting time. So get in gear and let's go."

Rebekah hesitated, then seemed to wilt a little. "All right," she said as she finally came over and joined us.

"And don't worry," Bayta assured her, putting her arm around the girl's shoulders. "Mr. Compton will come up with something."

"Actually, Mr. Compton already has," I said. "Come on You're going to love this."