Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9) by Mark Wandrey (best management books of all time .txt) 📗

take those,” he said, fingers curling around the weight of the belt Veska dropped in his hands. “Well?”

Shadow’s ears pricked forward, and Drake saw shock bleed into determination so strong, it put iron in his own spine. “Bana, we’re going to charge. Drake?”

“Covering fire.” He detached one of the grenades, aware his grin was utterly unhinged. “For Dad, and for Rex. Unto the end.”

* * *

Sonya’s hands were disconnected from her body, but she stared at them until they moved. She didn’t need to do anything but think beyond the next step.

Pick up gun.

Load additional ammunition.

Pick up second gun.

Breathe.

Listen for Shadow’s signal. He was the dreamer; he would know the time. A dozen arms swung, sending a volley of grenades flying into the cold.

Wait for the first explosion.

Go.

Sonya’s legs were disconnected, too, but they ran all the same. She dodged the dead, barely remembering to stay low. Everything in her told her to leap, to push against this planet and its low gravity, and shoot from on high.

But Drake was throwing grenades above them, and leaping would only make her a target.

She clenched her jaw hard, belatedly realizing she’d bit her tongue, when all she could taste was blood.

Her aim wasn’t as effective while she ran, but she shot every time a tufted ear appeared. The series of explosions ahead sent more Pushtal fleeing, and then it didn’t matter so much how well she aimed in such a target rich environment.

* * *

Drake howled his war cry as the first grenade exploded, gripped his rifle, and vaulted over the debris, bounding into the cold. Bullets whizzed by his head close enough to hear the shockwave. He fired his weapon from the hip, dumping the magazine in a long, ragged burst. Dropping the mag, he slammed another one home. “Rahhhhhhhr!” he screamed and loped forward.

* * *

Ripley eschewed the battle rifle for a single pistol, her preferred handheld weapon, as suited her pilot’s nature. Bounding step, fire. Bounding step, fire. Each leap, she waited until apogee to fire, giving herself a stable sight picture, and resulting in a hit each time. She didn’t yell or scream, but a smile grew as she exacted her revenge.

* * *

Shadow was filled with resolve as they jumped out of relative safety into the open. His sharp eyes scanned the field of battle. Dozens of Pushtal bodies were scattered everywhere, but many more were piling out of the three transports left intact. Two transports were wrecked, with one blown completely apart. He had his gun in hand, but waited. His siblings and Silent Night were making progress; he searched for one target.

* * *

Veska committed to the charge the moment Shadow gave the signal. She focused on the battle at hand—there would be time enough to mourn her dead after the job was done. If she was fated to join them, what point was there in losing time to sadness? There was killing to be done.

The Pushtal had abandoned honor, and that left wrongs in need of righting. Blood would answer the debt, and she would fight alongside Hosh to pay it. Should she fall in that duty, she would walk before the gods with pride.

Like Sonya, she ran low, pushing hard against the earth on every point of contact. Her strength and the low gravity meant she crossed the killing fields in moments, launching herself into the thick of disembarking Pushtal from the far transport and using the Human repeating gun with great effect.

* * *

“Prepare to rush them!” Meesh yelled at his troops. The detonation of the transport holding their heavy weapons and explosives had been an unwelcome surprise. So had the repulsing of the platoon he’d sent around the far side of the installation. He was sure he’d killed the Human leader, and ripping the life from a cluster of Zuparti after Ifka had been shaken to death had been satisfying. Now he had but to taste the blood of the Lumar leader for it to be complete. With no leadership, they’d fall to chaos.

Meesh opened his mouth to call for a charge when a dozen grenades flew from the hole in the Zuparti’s base and arced lazily toward them. Well, that’s unfortunate. Without appearing too obvious, Meesh took a step sideways and knelt behind one of the transports as the volley of grenades exploded around them. His arm still burned like fire from the hasty nanite reattachment, and he was still short an eye. It wasn’t cowardice, it was a practical decision.

He waited until he was certain no more grenades were forthcoming before standing again. When he did, he realized his troops were staring in surprise as a swarm of Humans raced up the low rise toward them. “What are you idiots staring at?” he demanded.

“But they’re attacking?” one of his lieutenants said.

“We have them outnumbered, they should be retreating!” a young trooper said incredulously.

“It doesn’t matter!” Meesh roared, raising his massive handgun and firing. “Shoot, shoot, shoot!” The addled troopers paused another crucial second before getting control of themselves. By then, the Humans were almost upon them. There was a disturbance at the further transport, but he needed to pay attention to the closer issue—he knew the Humans didn’t have enough survivors left to mount a double assault. Mixed among the smaller simians approaching were four Zuul, likely the ones Nillab had shown such interest in, ones who had been raised on Earth. One was dead; he’d enjoy killing the rest. He aimed at one and fired.

* * *

Something made Shadow delay his next leap. A tingle in the back of his mind. He landed and let his booted feet skid along the ground, and a bullet whizzed through where he would have been. Only then did he jump. Another few meters closer, still searching.

*