Foster, Alan Dean – Aliens Vs Predator – War

Lara and Jess stayed close to Max, Ellis seeming to un­derstand that they wanted to head west, keeping to a reasonably straight line. They were able to move faster than before, Max tearing a path through the abundant growth, the smell of sap and cut plants surrounding them as the sound of Noguchi’s battle fell behind.

Briggs’s body was folded over the elbow joint of Max’s right arm, Ellis keeping the arm stable as he moved so that the impregnated Briggs wouldn’t fall off. The exec’s arms and legs were slapped at by weeds and broken tree limbs, which was fine by Jess; Briggs’s comfort wasn’t high on his list of needs. Besides, he was unconscious. They probably wouldn’t be able to use him at all, but Jess thought that having a still-breathing suit in tow might turn out to be extremely handy.

He won’t give birth for another couple hours, at least, plenty of time in case—

“Jess, listen,” Lara said, and stopped, tilting her head, her face pale as milk. Ellis took one more crash­ing step and did the same, turning statue.

Jess listened. He heard jungle sounds, night sounds—the rhee-rhee-rhee of some cicada relative, a wind in the treetops high above, the scuttling rasps un­derfoot of animals too small to move the leaves. They held in place for a full minute, and Jess didn’t hear anything unexpected.

“I heard something moving,” Lara said, chewing at her lower lip. “I’m sure.”

If Lara was sure, than there was something to it. Jess moved closer to Ellis, searching the shadow-flecked trees for darker things.

“Ellis, do you see anything?”

Ellis didn’t respond. Jess shot a glance at Lara, saw the same worry on her face. The kid hadn’t spoken since alerting them to Nirasawa’s approach; he seemed to comprehend what they wanted, but that he wouldn’t talk, even to answer them, was unnerving.

What’s going on in there, Ellis?

Max looked dead. Each time it stopped walking, Jess had to wonder if it would start again, the giant body turning into an object that seemed incapable of life.

“I guess—” Lara started, and then Ellis was mov­ing.

It happened fast, Max’s left arm swiveling back and up, directed into the dark and broken trail behind them. There was a puh of sound, of displaced air, gre­nade—

—and a sharp pop, and a dazzling light. The electric glow of white phosphorous hissed up from the burning filler some fifteen meters back, a tremendous billow of smoke pluming into the air from the M60—

—and before Jess could feel more than a second’s confusion, he saw the silhouettes in front of the rising sheet of white, and heard the screech of the one that

was dancing through the flame. He saw two others, standing sharply outlined by the sizzling light. Hunters. There was the ripping sound of a burner, barely au­dible over the dying screams of the Hunter on fire—

—and the blast hit Max in the back, and then Jess and Lara were both firing, the burner jumping in Jess’s hands, the crack of Lara’s semi blending into the harsh rattle from Max’s pulse rifle.

Brrrp-BOOM, the flash from Jess’s burner slammed into the chest of one of them, throwing it backwards into the rising incendiary flame. There was a clattering howl, terrible, and Jess brought the weapon around to the second—

—and its body was jumping, convulsing with the hammer of bullets that pounded it all the way down, Lara and Max both shooting, its muscular form crash­ing to the ground.

Max ceased firing. Jess and Lara both stopped, scanning for further movement—and all was quiet, only the hiss of the white-turning-orange flames as they ate slowly through the surrounding brush. If there were any more Hunters in the area, they’d decided not to join the fight; it was over, at least for the moment.

“Unh,” Max whispered, and Jess felt his heart pounding in delayed reaction, felt renewed fear for the kid as he and Lara both turned to inspect the damage.

The black, smoking splotch on Max’s back was too hot to touch; Lara ripped a strip of cloth from the bot­tom of her shirt and balled it up, wiping it across the wide and ragged mark. The hit didn’t seem to have penetrated the armor, but it had eaten through the protective acid-and heat-resist coating, he could be boil­ing alive in there—

“Ellis! Brian, are you hurt? Can you talk?” Lara asked, her voice right on the edge of panic.

Nothing—except a soft, unconscious groan from Briggs, still draped over Max’s flamethrower arm. Amazingly, he hadn’t been injured.

“Kid, please,” Jess said, aching inside as well as out. “Say you’re all right, say anything.”

“Any, thing,” Max breathed, and Lara laughed, the sharp sound close to a sob. Jess swallowed, hard—and faced front again, wanting this endless, painful night to be over with.

“Go, let’s go,” he said, taking a step forward, then two—and then Max raised one massive metal leg and put it back down, following, and Lara joined them.

Almost over, almost, Jess thought, and was still work­ing to believe that a half klick later when they heard the trumpeting calls of at least a dozen approaching drones.

28

Three of the four beings were dead or disabled, but Nirasawa had suffered consider­able damage in the effort. Seven major latchment points between musculature and skeleton had been severed through his back and left side, seriously inca­pacitating the feedback systems that kept him stable. Overall electrical stim received for his limb colloids was down 37 percent—and the casing for his hydrogen fuel cell had been pierced, which, if further damaged, would very likely relieve him of all processing capabil­ity. He would become inert; he would cease.

Studying the stance of the last viable opponent, Nirasawa could see that the being’s injuries were also significant. From the labored breathing to the unrelia­bility and tissue damage of its right leg, Nirasawa thought that it would die soon without medical atten­tion. Still, it continued to present itself as an opponent, and Nirasawa meant to alter its status. The woman had not finished her engagement with the being she fought, and Nirasawa wanted to aid her in destroying the last of Mr. Briggs’s killers.

The ailing creature stepped forward, jabbing its staff at Nirasawa. Nirasawa pushed the blade aside, moving in, bringing his right arm up and delivering a blow to the alien’s probable ribs. Several snapped.

The creature clattered loudly in its own language, a pale green blood washing from its mouth—and its damaged leg crumpled. The being fell, gasping, and Nirasawa bent down, reaching for its throat—

—and the creature, with some final burst of strength, thrust its staff deep into Nirasawa’s abdomen.

The fuel cell itself was punctured. Nirasawa felt the energy shut down, first to his legs. He collapsed on top of the gasping creature, driving his right elbow into its neck, hearing the wet collapse of its airway.

Nirasawa’s arms went next. Then the pump of lu­bricant faltered, the stability and latchment systems re­leasing a short and final jolt of stim through his immobile limbs. He could no longer move.

Nirasawa’s one functioning eye saw the stars in the Bunda sky, and then that, too, ceased to operate. There was a flush of nonsequential numbers in the dark—and then Nirasawa was no more.

Noguchi heard the dying call of the Blooded Hunter, a trilled greeting to the Black Warrior, a final shuffle of movement—and then nothing. Nirasawa had fallen, and the other Hunters were dead.

Just you and me now.

Shorty had managed one glancing blow to her side, and she had raked his right arm with the blades, but neither had gained the advantage. They continued their circling appraisal of one another, Noguchi know­ing that Shorty wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer. He was yautja, and young; she’d seen Blooded maintain a defense, but Shorty would eventually feel that he was cowardly for not attacking. She was betting on it.

And if you ‘re wrong? This could go on, and other Hunt­ers will come, and your victory will mean nothing . . .

Noguchi felt the seconds tick by like minutes, her every muscle tensed, watchful for his next move. He hadn’t responded to further taunting; she’d called him small and weak, she’d stumbled through a few prov­erbs about having no honor. If she could just find something that would re-ignite his fury, push him into another reckless act …

Think! The names he’d called her in the past, the things he’d said in the hope of hurting her. Woman, human, alien—nothing there, nothing that had come across as more than a mild slight.

Except—he thought they were horrible slurs. The wry worst he could come up with . . .

She had it. Noguchi knew what to say. She ran through the words in her head, preparing herself for his assault as she decided on her counterstrike.

“Chi’-dte ooman-di,” Noguchi said. “Lou’-dte Dahdtoudi kalei!”

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