Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [27]
For a moment, the trident-warrior and the mutant rolled across the clearing, driven by their momentum. Then they scrambled to their feet, separated by less than a meter. The Shriiton thrust his weapon at Wolverine, who caught it and broke its shaft over his knee.
As the alien tried to regain his balance, the mutant drove his heel into the Shritton’s belly. When the trident-warrior groaned and doubled over, Wolverine laced his fingers together and delivered a two-handed blow to the back of the neck.
The Shriiton collapsed and fell on his face. After a moment or two, it was clear he wasn’t getting up again. The mutant made a show of brushing off his hands, then turned to Worf.
“Don’t tell me that’s it,” he said.
“Actually,” the Klingon told him, “we are just warming up.” He looked up. “Computer—Level Four.”
Wolverine’s eyes narrowed. “Geez, Worf—ya mean we’ve been loungin’ on Level Three the whole time?”
The Klingon shook his head. “No. On Level One.”
Then there was no time to talk. He was too busy defending himself against one enemy after the other.
As Erid sat with his back against the fortress wall, he felt a voice in his head. He had heard it before, of course, but never charged with such a sense of excitement.
“You’ll take out the man to the right of the prime guard.”
Erid looked at Paldul, who was sitting in the sun at the other side of the yard. Thanks to his telepathic abilities, he had become the link between Rahatan and the other transformed.
“I hear you,” Erid thought. He glanced at the guard in question, gauging the distance between them. “And I’ll be ready.”
“Good,” thought Paldul. “Wait for my signal.”
Erid waited. While he did this, he thought about his parents. The first thing he would do when he was free was get in touch with them and let them know he was alive.
And after that? He had no idea, really. As far as he knew, none of the others did either. The need to escape loomed so large in their minds, there didn’t seem to be room for anything else.
Maybe there was nothing they could do. Maybe this escape of theirs wouldn’t accomplish anything in the long run—and they would end up back inside these walls, or in another fortress somewhere else. But if their efforts only alerted the world to their plight, it would be worth the effort.
Abruptly, he felt the voice in his head again. “Ready,” it said. “On the count of three. One … two … three.”
Pointing his right hand at the guard assigned to him, Erid unleashed a beam of brilliant, white energy. It struck the man before he had any inkling he was threatened, causing him to drop his weapon and collapse on the battlement.
Erid was pleased with his accuracy. His nightly practices had improved his skill with his energy releases, but he had never consciously sent out a bolt so powerful—or over such a great distance.
Meanwhile, his assault hadn’t been the only one. Far from it. All over the yard, every one of the transformed with a projectable energy power had put it to use simultaneously, creating a bizarre, multicolored barrage.
Half a dozen guards were jolted off their feet—and those who weren’t had no better time of it. One was struck by an invisible assailant, who then grabbed his weapon and cracked him across the face with it. Another found himself firing at an adversary who was only an illusion—and hitting one of his comrades instead. A third tried to track a blur of speed and couldn’t, firing instead at the places where Corba had been.
It was chaos. But as Erid shot another stream of energy, spinning a guard around, he began to imagine their plan might work.
Then he felt the ground tremble, and by that sign he knew Rahatan would soon be joining the fray. Also, Leyden and Denara, who had been imprisoned in cells alongside him.
“Watch out!” he heard someone cry.
A fraction of a second later, Erid was smashed hard in the ribs and taken off his feet. At the same time, a stun blast splattered against the wall where he had been standing.
He looked up into the face of his savior—and saw the man with the