Triumph of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [78]
“Kid turned into a wolf right before my eyes! Leaped on Rankin, knocked him down, and tore his throat out before I could move. God help me! I’ll never forget Rankin’s scream What could I do? Run? Hell yes I ran! And the whole time I was running I could feel hot breath on my neck, hear that thing panting behind me. I can still hear it.”
“We fired at this thing, but he must have been thirty feet tall. We coulda been tossin’ matches at it instead of lasers for all it cared. Lifted one foot and smash! That was the end of Mardec and Hayes. We couldn’t even get the bodies outa the wreckage…”
“A man in white robes, like some damn picture in a Sunday school book, jumps up and attacks my boys with a sword. Yeah, a sword. They get ready to cut him in two with their phaser guns and—wham! They fire and the sword—”
“—deflects the light?”
“Deflects, hell! It sucks up the damn light! I saw those weapons. Every one was completely drained, and they’d all been recharged right before battle. We shoulda been able to shoot those things for a month without recharging. Not only that, but the guy in the robes did the same thing to a tank, too.”
“Naw—”
“I saw, I swear! The crew reported their instrument readings going wild, and then everything went dead. But this sword and the guy in the robes stood in front of them, glowing with this weird blue light and the last thing the crew reported was this bright flash…. There was an explosion … and then this hole in the ground; the tank blown halfway to hell—”
The shivering Captain suddenly spoke, “Halfway. Half-man, half-horse. Hair covers their faces, but I see their eyes, horrible eyes and hooves—sharp hooves….” The Captain leaped to his feet. “They’re trampling Jamesson! Stop them! Oh, my god! They’ve got him … tearing his arms off. He …he’s still alive! My god! His cries! Shoot him! Make him stop! Make him stop!” The Captain clamped his hands over his ears, sobbing.
“Get him out of here,” Major Boris ordered, raising his head, his attention caught at last.
The rest of the commanders ceased their argument and fell silent, carefully avoiding looking at their broken comrade. The Major opened his mouth to call for the sergeant, whose office was in another, smaller geodesic dome attached to the main one, and it was at this point that James Boris became aware of the presence in the room of the man with the word Advisor attached to his expensive suit.
Major Boris went cold all over, shivering nearly as violently as the poor Captain. Noting their commanders fixed and rigid stare, seeing the hands clenched upon the desk suddenly go limp, the captains looked around behind them hastily. When they saw the man watching them, they all turned back—some slower than others, Captain Collin in particular—casting uneasy glances at their Major.
They’re losing confidence in me, James Boris realized bitterly. How can I blame them? I’m losing confidence in myself, in everything around me! His gaze went reluctantly yet inexorably to the weeping Captain. I’ll be as mad as Walters next…. I’ve got to pull myself together.
Forcing himself to sit upright, setting his thick jaw rigidly, and thrusting out his chin, Major Boris bellowed for the sergeant.
The door opened, the Sergeant entered. “Sir?”
“I gave orders no one was allowed inside What is this man doing here? Did you leave your post?”
The Sergeant looked at the visitor and his eyes opened wide, his skin took on a sallow tinge. “No, sir! I didn’t let him in, Major, I swear! I—I haven’t left my desk all night, sir.”
The man labeled Advisor smiled.
James Boris tensed, longing to shove the white, even teeth of that smile down the silk-necktied throat. His hand twitched in anticipation, and he was forced to clench it tightly. The Major knew well enough how Menju had gained entry; he