The Ascendant Stars - Michael Cobley [160]
The droning was engines! My God, he thought. We’re under attack! And he leaned over the gantry rail to shout at Rory but before he could a heavy weight struck his shoulder, knocking him down to sprawl on the gantry’s rough planks. Even as he struggled to regain his footing he could hear the sounds of a firefight nearby, suddenly blotted out by the whining stutter of an automatic weapon. Shouts went up all around. Crouching, he fumbled for his own weapon, a reliable hefty 45-calibre revolver, then realised that he was alone on the catwalk. Dark figures slid down lines that hung wavering from above. Theo looked up and saw seven or eight silently hovering oblong shapes, grey in the rain which splashed in his eyes. Had his assailant been one of these attackers, striking Theo on his way down into the crater?
Roused from sleep, the shanty inhabitants had emerged and gunfire was breaking out in all directions. Theo made a dash for the main entrance, feet banging on the planks, one hand intermittently seeking balance on the rope rail while the other held on to the revolver. Ahead, men with rifles knelt in the entrance, some firing up at the antigrav flyers, other beckoning Theo to hurry.
There was a loud bang from behind. In reflex he ducked, going down on one knee and glancing over his shoulder – just as the gantry slewed suddenly to one side with a cracking sound. The support was toppling, making the gantry tilt over. Theo held on as best he could, then there was a lurch and he lost his grip, tipped over the rail and fell …
Onto a shanty roof, some composite of hide over a lattice of wooden slats. It broke his fall but still gave way with a splintering tear so that he landed awkwardly on the dirt floor of a wide hut hardly lit by the brazier glowing in the corner. There was a long table strewn with empty and half-empty mugs, and a couple of snoring forms curled up beneath, oblivious to the raging conflict. Theo got shakily to his feet. Astonishingly he had held on to the revolver so at least he wasn’t defenceless. Time to get back up there, he thought. Got to find Rory …
It was the rope ladder up to the entrance that he had in mind as he strode towards the hut’s open door. In the darkness he never saw the foot that tripped him. He fell full-length and landed facedown, the impact driving the air out of his chest. And yet still he held on to the gun and, aware that there was someone else in the hut, he rolled over, bringing the gun round …
Only to have it wrenched out of his hand and dashed against the side of his head. It was just a glancing blow but was enough to leave him dazed …
‘Ah … it’s you, the feeble old man that Gideon had leading his men into Base Wolf … ’
A rough hand grabbed him by the collar, dragged him across the floor and with an unnerving strength threw him onto a mound of what felt like hides or cloaks or both. By the brazier’s meagre yellow glow Theo finally got a glimpse of his assailant – tall but not a Sendrukan, dressed in a familiar blue combat armour. Then the face came forward out of the shadow, a distorted visage whose left side up to the scalp was red scar tissue. It was Marshal Becker’s loyal ally, Nathaniel Horne.
‘Hard to believe that this ragged gang of rebels could cause even the Brolturans difficulty,’ Horne said. ‘Clearly, all that was needed was the skills of battle-hardened Tygrans.’ He glanced at Theo’s revolver, snorted and tossed it aside then took out a thick-barrelled handgun whose muzzle had four closely clustered nozzles.
‘I have to say,’ Theo said, ‘this isn’t a very dignified end.’
‘You’re going to be dead – trust me, you