“One at a time. J.B., stay and keep them covered.”
Cold neon light spilled from the open door, out across the clearing, throwing everyone’s shadows toward the edge of the darkness. Despite the cool air, Ryan realized that he was sweating.
He heard the rustling of feet as Krysty, Mildred, Doc and Jak made their way inside the building.
“You next, Ryan,” J.B. whispered.
“No, me last. Go.”
Combat boots scuffed on the dew-wet turf, then Ryan stood for a moment alone.
He heard a faint whistle, then a response far off to the left, almost behind him. It could have been a night bird.
But Ryan knew that it wasn’t.
He backed toward the door and into the gateway, glancing around, shocked to see that the whole place was now covered in layers of vivid green moss.
It was far worse than when they’d made the jump, and his only guess was that in opening the door, they’d let in all manner of spores, damp and heat. Most of the console screens were invisible under the lichen, their panels of lights flickering under the murky blanket.
“I have grave doubts that the actual gateway unit is still functioning, Ryan. I have never seen such advanced botanical sabotage.”
“Get into the chamber, quick,” Ryan ordered. “Best try it straightaway.”
He glanced behind him, but the spillage of light from the control room made it impossible to make out anything beyond the open sec door.
“Should I close that, Dad?”
It was a great temptation. Once it was down, they’d be completely safe from any sort of attack that the natives could manage.
“You can No. Leave it be.”
“But if we closed it, we’d be”
Ryan almost lifted a hand against his son. The presentiment of danger was so pressing that he couldn’t bear to tolerate any argument.
“Leave it!”
The boy jumped back as though Ryan had slapped him across the face.
“Sorry, Dad.”
“They’re close outside. Everyone in the chamber.”
Ryan was aware that tiredness was catching up on him. The last days and nights had been filled with too much stress and action, and far too little rest.
Now there was the certainty that the pursuing natives were on top of them, wanting vengeance, wanting outlander bodies to carry to the fires, to remove the living hearts with their gleaming black swords and fill the open cavities with glowing coals. To offer gifts to their gods.
He and J.B. automatically took up the rearguard positions, without a word being spoken between them, backing across the control room.
It was a poor defensive position, even against men armed mainly with bows and blowpipes. Poor cover and too little of it, offering better opportunities to attackers.
“Come on, lover.” Krysty’s voice was loud and harsh with tension. “Come on!”
An arrow hissed through the door, missing Ryan by a couple of feet, clattering off the back wall and lying near his boots. He glanced down and saw that the barbed tip was smeared with a dark, sticky liquid.
He dropped to his knees behind the last row of desks, J.B. doing the same. Ryan glanced behind to see that everyone else was already in the chamber, standing, holding their blasters.
Trader often said that life generally came down to two choices a bad one and the other one.
If he and J.B. turned and ran for it, jumping into the chamber and slamming the pale green armaglass door, it would give the natives precious seconds to come after them and trap them before the jump mechanism operated.
So, there was the other choice.
“Get on the floor,” he yelled.
Two more arrows and a handful of tiny poisoned darts rattled into the control room through the open sec door. Ryan cursed himself under his breath for not closing it behind them.
But that was spilled milk.
“Ready,” Krysty called.
“We stay,” he said quietly to J.B.
“Sure, Ryan.” There was no need for anything else to be said.
He rose and powered himself forward to slam the armaglass door shut, triggering the jump mechanism.
“Wait for us!” he yelled. “Be along when we can.”
He heard shouting from inside, Krysty’s voice rising over all of them.