There was a brief pause. “Confirm, Chief,” the second in command of War Wag Two said reluctantly. “Will do.”
“Get hard,” Roberto ordered, and everybody grabbed a blaster from the wall rack or pulled a weapon from beneath the seats. For a moment, the room was filled with metallic snaps and clicks as the blasters were primed for action.
“Harry, get the door,” Kate directed, leveling the Ingram.
Before obeying, the guard checked the ammo clip in his M-16 and the 40 mm gren in the stubby launcher attached under the main barrel. Now ready, the man threw the bolts and opened the door. The curved section of hull swung down on well greased hinges and hit the inch deep water with a rippling splash.
Her Ingram chattered as a millipede fell onto the ramp from above and started inside the wag. Little bastard had to have been sitting on the weather strip used to make the door airtight.
Firing from the hip, she hosed the steps and sparks flew as the 9 mm rounds ricocheted around the yard long bug. Then it reared to strike, pincers wildly snapping and Roberto fired his shotgun. The sawed off double barrel blew a hellstorm of soft lead through the doorway, and the millipede exploded into pieces, pink blood gushing from the tattered remains.
Jumping outside into the wet sand, Kate spun fast and cursed as she saw more of the millipedes alive and moving. Another dozen had survived by being on the rubber tires!
Unable to shoot without blowing the tires, the woman kicked the nearest bug hard with her boot. Hissing loudly, it dropped off the wheel and started for her, wiggling through the mud when the guard cut loose with his M-16, the preDark hardball ammo chewing the bug to pieces.
But the scent of blood seemed to drive the others mad, and now millipedes dropped off the wag in a dozen places, hitting with little splashes and then starting after the Trader, some submerged and others in plain view.
Firing a line before the insects to hold them back, the guard emptied another clip into the muties as Roberto hit the water and thundered flame at the creatures. Then the rest of the control room crew came out the doorway and splashed into the fight, hammering the bugs in a cacophony of firepower.
Jessica cried out and fell backward into the salt mud, a millipede clinging to her boot, the pincers sawing away. Kate slashed out with her bowie knife and cut off a dozen of the creature’s legs. Hissing in pain, it stopped attacking Jessica and turned to snap at the Trader. Shoving her blaster into its mouth, she squeezed off a burst and the bug erupted from within, guts flying everywhere.
As the fighting slowed, the people turned to inspect the transport, firing a round here and there, extracting millipedes from inside the barrels of the 40 mm gren launchers, an exhaust pipe and an unmanned machine gun blister. As a bug hit the water, the nearest person would stomp on it with a boot in the middle of the body where the pincers couldn’t reach, and somebody else would blow off its head. Once the tactic was worked out, the slaughter continued relentlessly until there were no more of the monsters to find.
“That should be the last of them,” Kate said, removing a spent clip from her blaster and pocketing the empty to slide in a fresh clip. “Anybody hurt?”
A few folks had gotten bitten, or scorched from a muzzle flash of a friendly blaster held just a touch too close to unprotected skin. But the damage was minor, and when Jinx came out of the war wag carrying a bag of medicine, he seemed pleased.
“With all that firepower going off, I expected a lot more damage than these scratches,” the healer said, walking among the crew. “Nothing important here. All right, everybody get inside. I’ll want good light to clean those bites.”
As the people sloshed back into the vehicle, Kate stayed in the mud, with the hot barrel of her rapidfire resting on a gore splattered shoulder.
“Okay, Roberto, let’s get some dry land underfoot,” she directed. “Roll her out, nice and slow. We’re still checking for passengers.”