He fired through half the clip, chipping away at the gun port and leaving scars on the edges. Abruptly the machine-gun fire dropped away, sliding out of the groove it had been following.
“Krysty!” he yelled, surging up from the floor. From their present position, none of the other weapons could hit them.
“I’m here, lover,” Krysty said, but her voice was so low it was barely audible above the boom and crash of the weapons fire. “Can’t help much. The Other’s here, too. He wants in. Wants inside my head. Gaia, it’s so hard to keep him out. Trying to put down roots.”
Ryan didn’t want to leave her, but he had no choice. The running man had covered half the floor, and there was still the threat of the sec men that might come pouring from the tunnel. Ryan had recognized J.B.’s and Mildred’s handi-work at the other end, emphasized by the shotgun flechettes that suddenly sprouted from the wall after passing through the first man’s head.
Shoving the blaster behind the nearest computer bank, Ryan gripped the other edge with his free hand and started yanking. The Steyr banged against his side, hanging from its sling.
It took real effort, but the computer bank came tumbling down. Sparks flared into bright, brief life as the connections parted.
Ryan shoved the hunk of machinery around, creating a shield that Krysty could take cover behind. He pulled her behind it, feeling the metal shudder under the impact of bullets from another machine gun.
“Fireblast!” Ryan swore, glancing at the LED readout403. He glanced at Krysty. “I’ve got to go.”
“Go.” She held a hand to her temples, her other hand still on her pistol.
He didn’t hesitate, picking up the motion of the other man immediately. He swung in pursuit. Before he took two steps, he felt as if he’d jumped out in front of a fully loaded wag. His breath left his lungs, but he turned, fighting for balance, feeling the blaster leave his fingertips in the sudden onslaught of pain.
A bellow of rage rocked hot and heavy in Ryan’s ear, punctuated by gunshots that could only have been near misses.
Staggering, letting his reflexes take over for him, Ryan pushed himself back. He levered a forearm under the bigger man’s chin hard enough to break teeth.
“Fucker!” the man screamed as blood dribbled down his chin. He brought his pistol around, still trying to center on his target.
Ryan threw his arm up, hearing Krysty’s .38 pistol bang in quick succession, and blocked the big man’s gun. The weapon went off with deafening reports.
The big man was Pepper, head of Boldt’s seed heralds. Ryan recognized him now. He gripped the coldheart’s wrist, keeping the weapon pointed away from him. The bullets passed within inches, then the hammer fell on empty brass.
Water, thick and syrupy, splashed against the backs of Ryan’s legs when he moved back. A brief glance showed him the seed herald’s bullets had blasted holes in the sides of the hydroponics tanks.
“You’re going to die, little man,” Pepper promised. He shifted his hand on his weapon, preparing to use it like a club.
Ryan drew the panga smoothly. He rocked on his feet, neatly avoiding the bigger man’s swing. The flat crack of the gun barrel slamming into the vat tank was drowned out almost immediately by Pepper’s screams when Ryan opened his abdomen up with the slick kiss of the panga.
Intestines slid out onto the floor and coiled around Pepper’s feet. Still, his reflexes made him dangerous. One of his huge hands came out and suddenly gripped Ryan by the face.
Ryan brought the panga up in a flashing arc, unable to quickly disengage from the big man. He felt the sharp blade bite into Pepper’s wrist, and a torrent of blood washed over him. He tried to set his feet but slipped on a length of intestine before he could regain his balance. The back of his head smashed against the hydroponics vat with enough force to shove it through.
Cottony blackness threatened to overwhelm Ryan’s senses while the thick, vile water, slightly warmer than human skin, poured over his body. The taste was noxious, almost as salty as blood and a lot more greasy.