James Axler – Exile to Hell

“What the hell is this?” Grant growled.

“Kane! Grant! Report!” Not only did they hear Salvo’s imperious tone in their helmets, but they heard it echoing down the corridor.

Reeth heard it, too, and his shoulders slumped in relief. “Listen,” he said in a pleading whisper, “if you value your lives, don’t tell Salvo I led you to the gateway.”

Kane’s head swung toward him. “The what?”

Reeth opened his mouth, then shut it again. His lips tightened, and his expression showed that he would say no more despite what was done to him.

“Let’s go,” Grant urged gruffly, tugging at Kane’s elbow.

Reluctantly Kane allowed himself to be drawn away from the chamber. He, Grant and Reeth walked quickly along the passageway, through the doorway and into the big room that had served as Reeth’s control center. He saw Salvo standing like a red-faced statue beside the electronics console, and tension cut at him like a knife. His heart jumped, picking up a faster rhythm and holding on to it. Pollard and MacMurphy were fanned out across the room, patting down the blastermen, who stood grimly, hands laced behind their heads.

Pointing to Reeth, Salvo said, “Let him go.”

Kane released his grip on the dreadlocks, and Reeth stumbled slightly. He rushed toward Salvo, hands wide. Angrily, petulantly he said, “I don’t know what’s going on, what put the bug up your ass, but we can work this out before the baron gets wind of”

The Sin Eater slid into Salvo’s palm, and two shots roared, sending out almost tangible waves of sound. Reeth kicked backward from the floor, as though performing an acrobatic trick. It was no trick. A huge crimson blotch appeared on the front of his bodysuit.

The two rounds smashed Milton Reeth’s heart, turning it into pulverized meat. He slapped down onto the floor with a mushy thud. Blood from hemorrhaging lungs bubbled from his nose and mouth. He made a very small gurgling noise, like a baby waking from a nap. Then he died, lying on his back, eyes open and bright as marbles. An angry grumble went up from the blastermen, but Pollard and MacMurphy had them covered.

Pushing the Sin Eater back into its forearm holster, Salvo announced, “Termination warrant served.”

Staring at Kane, he said loudly, “Flash-blast this slag-hole.”

Kane said, “There are more outlanders in a cell back there”

He stopped speaking when he saw the cold smile play over Salvo’s face. He knew what the bastard intended.

“I repeatflash-blast this slaghole.” Salvo’s voice was sharp, slicing through the air like a steel whip. “Do we understand each other?”

Seconds of silence hung in the air. Kane realized Salvo was challenging him, letting him know that there was a line he dared not cross. Salvo had led the team into a trap, but Kane and Grant had disobeyed orders, and the superior officer was again in charge and letting everyone know it.

Kane inclined his head in a slight nod. “Sir.”

Salvo nodded in return, so slight a motion it was almost invisible. He had scored a minor victory. “You and Grant wait for us in the tunnel while we mop up in here.”

Crossing the room, Kane and Grant walked up the staircase to the scaffold and along the tunnel. Blocking the transceiver grid with a finger, Grant put the edge of his hand against the base of his neck. “I figure we’re up to here in it. What do you think?”

Kane smiled distractedly, then placed a finger over the grid on his helmet. “What did Reeth call that room? A gateway?”

“Yeah. Whatever the hell that means.”

“Remember the old stories? About predark experiments in matter transmission? Called them gateways, right?”

“Folklore,” Grant replied stiffly. “Legends.”

“Could be. Or could be there’s a basis in reality for the legends.”

Grant tapped his chin with the edge of his hand. “You mention that to Salvo, and we’ll be up to here .”

Kane chuckled uneasily. “Don’t worry. I’ve already had my shit requirement for the day.”

From behind them erupted the ripping rasps of three Sin Eaters. The sound rolled down the tunnel, carrying with it faint cries and bleats of terror and pain. The outcries stopped, but the Sin Eaters continued to blast. They heard the clatter of spent casings falling to the floor, the shattering of glass, the clanging of metal. There was the pop of sparks as the generator was cored by armor-piercing rounds, and the neon light strip overhead flickered and went out. The snarl of the Sin Eaters stopped.