“Mildred right,” Jak said. “Drew no fire. Not want to hit the road.”
“Insightful woman, our Dr. Wyeth,” Doc said. “I shall take the left side, if you do not mind.”
Jak nodded and moved to the inside of the opposite wheel.
With Mildred at the controls, the wag began to inch forward on its seven-foot-wide tires.
Jak and Doc watched their targets, holding their fire. They crawled along with the wag, keeping hidden behind the wheels. The shooters angled downward fire without changing their positions, zapping the sides of the cargo box again and again, but they could only do so up to a point. Once the rebel ore wag had moved far enough up the road, their only target was the wag’s rear gate. As the slaves were now staying well down, out of their line of fire, hitting the gate served no purpose.
When Mildred was within thirty feet of the other wag, her intentions were obvious. As were the shortcomings of the troopers’ ambush plan.
“Mine’s moving,” Doc said, swinging the alien weapon to his shoulder and lining up the sights.
The trooper on top of the knoll scrambled to his feet and started running downhill.
Doc led him and squeezed the trigger. The resulting hum surprised him. As did the lack of any recoil. His first shot went low and wide. Pinning the trigger, he painted the slope with the laser beam.
Doc’s blast cut the glass out from under the man’s feet. He lost his balance and slid face first, leaving his rifle behind. The old man watched over his sights as the trooper tried to slow or stop himself by putting out both gauntleted hands, palms forward, and digging in the toes of his boots. But the incline was too steep and the glass too slick.
The figure in black shot over the lip of the whirlpool and vanished into its yawning maw.
Jak’s target didn’t make a break for it until Mildred actually nudged the other wag. She put her front bumper against its front bumper and began to push, feathering her speed to keep her wheels from spinning and losing traction. She found the wag’s gearshift and dropped the transmission into low to get more torque.
The other wag was lighter, since it was unloaded, and even though its parking brake was on, it started to move in reverse. Slowly at first, as Mildred got a feel for how much pressure she could apply.
Seeing the roadblock being pushed out of the way, being pushed toward a bend in the road that emptied onto a deep divide, the trooper behind the glass fence fired a last, futile shot, then broke from cover. He had fifty feet of open ground before he reached the next safe spot.
From under the wag, Jak took a swinging lead on him and touched off a quick shot. The trooper went down flat on his belly, but he wasn’t hit. He squirmed into a prone position and returned fire, trying to keep Jak pinned by hitting the cargo box on that side.
Doc moved under the truck and added his weapon’s shrill squeal to the mix.
The trooper rolled away, unable to maintain his position in the cross fire.
The other ore wag was moving nicely now, even though the brakes were locked. Its rear wheels bumped up and over the shoulder. Mildred kept pushing. Its middle wheels hopped the shoulder, and she gave a final shove.
As the front wheels popped off the road, the rear wheels hung in space. The balance point was on the middle wheels, and they were sliding. With a tremendous groan, the ore wag tumbled into the chasm beyond. A second later there came a loud crash.
“We’ve got a clear road ahead,” Doc said. “We can leave our battlesuited friend right where he is. No need to spend another moment in his dubious company.”
Jak and Doc scrambled out from under the far side of the wag and climbed up onto the side of the box.
“Go, Mildred!” Jak said, pounding on the cab roof.
She accelerated up the grade, away from the ambush site. Around the next bend, out of range of the trooper, Mildred stopped and got out.