Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [68]
Getting down on his belly, he inched over to the edge of the roof and scanned the labyrinthine alley in the direction of the transformed. No sign of them yet—or their pursuers either. But they were coming, all right.
Finally, he got the glimpse of them he needed. As far as Sovar could tell, the Draa’kon hadn’t taken down any of the transformed yet.
It was as if they were herding the young people rather than hunting them. Driving them toward a particular place, where the Draa’kon were perhaps better equipped to capture them.
The one with the purple veins seemed to have the hardest time keeping up the pace. He stumbled and lurched as Sovar looked on. If the youth had ever been built for speed, he wasn’t any longer. The lieutenant’s heart went out to him.
“A little further,” he whispered. “A little further.”
Suddenly, he felt something grab him by the wrist. Instinctively, he wrenched it free—and was startled to see he’d been in the grasp of a hand reaching right out of the rooftop.
A moment later, a head floated up to join it—Shadowcat’s head.
Sovar took a breath, let it out. “What are you doing?” he rasped.
“Sorry,” she said. “I forgot who I’m dealing with.”She jerked a thumb in the direction of the alley. “Had to scout around a little. Get the lay of the land and so on.”
Slowly, so he could see what she was doing, she took hold of the lieutenant’s wrist again. “Just trust me,” she told him. “Okay?”
He swallowed. “Okay.”
A moment later, he began sinking through the roof, drawn by Shadowcat’s gentle pull—though to him, it seemed as if the roof was rising all around him. It was a frightening, claustrophobic feeling. Something like falling through still water, except he had no trouble breathing.
When the roof rose to the level of his eyes, he began seeing the inside of the materials that made up the building—not a cross-section, exactly, but the way it looked within. Unfortunately, it was too dark for him to make out much in the way of details.
Then the darkness lifted and he could see again. He and Shadowcat were in a room—a dining alcove. But only for a moment. That slid past as well, as did another layer of floor.
Finally, Sovar found himself in another dining alcove—but this one was on the ground floor, just outside the alley. His companion let go of his hand and pointed to a broken window.
“You’re on your own now,” she told him.
“What about you?” the lieutenant asked.
“I’m not big on ray guns,” she quipped, “but I’ll find a way to make myself useful.” And with that, she sank through the floor as if it were the easiest and most natural thing in the world.
“Good luck,” he breathed, and took up a position by the window.
In a moment or two, the transformed went by, gathered in a tightly knit group—as if staying so close together would make them more secure somehow. Of course, it did just the opposite, making one big target out of them.
But Sovar wasn’t really concentrating on the pursued. He was concentrating on their pursuers.
A heartbeat later, the Draa’kon went by his window as well. There were six of them—the number the lieutenant had counted earlier. All were armed. And all were making good speed, despite their lumbering gait.
Sovar took aim at the Draa’kon in the lead. But before he could press the trigger on his phaser, he saw the invader stumble and fall on his face. And when he went down, it forced his comrades to lurch to one side or the other in an effort not to trample him.
Had he never met Shadowcat, the lieutenant wouldn’t have thought to glance at the ground in the Draa’kons’ wake. But he had met her, so he looked for her telltale hand sticking up from the street.
And found it.
In the meantime, the Draa’kon were in disarray, and the mutant’s interference had enabled the transformed to open a bigger lead. But none of it would mean anything unless Sovar took advantage of the situation.
Aiming along the body of his phaser, he triggered its crimson beam and watched one of the Draa’kon hit the ground. Since none of the