James Axler – Starfall

Before they recovered, the six Foundation powerboats sped on either side of them. The big .50-caliber machine guns opened fire in sustained bursts. The heavy bullets raked the pirates’ craft, ripping them to shreds.

The six boats with Ryan’s team engaged the stalled at­tack effort and continued the blistering .50-caliber fire. A secondary wave of explosions erupted as the smaller pack­ages J.B. had constructed blew, even more damaging than the first. The first wave of explosions had scattered the secondary ones in a wide circumference, some of them landing in the pirate boats.

“That’s worked out well,” Donovan said to Ryan, shout­ing to be heard above the carnage.

“Hasn’t stopped all of them,” Ryan pointed out.

And it was true. Though the river was filled and bottle-necked by stricken boats and water bikes, the pirates were already working to get through the area.

“It’ll take them a while to get their courage up,” Ryan said.

“But they’ll follow us?” Donovan asked.

“No doubt about that. You took the space-station section back and killed a lot of them. If Barbarossa is as interested in building his private navy as you say he is, he can’t afford to take this kind of beating without getting his pound of flesh back.”

Donovan glanced back at the twisted wrecks and the roil­ing water of the Jefferson River. “Used up a lot of our stashed plas-ex. Going to have to hump a fresh load in from the Foundation.”

Ryan showed the man a thin grin. “I think you can tell whoever runs the Foundation that it was well spent.” He reloaded the Steyr, watching as the six Foundation pow­erboats pulled up alongside the flagship.

“Going to be a big race back to the dam, isn’t it, Dad?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “And even going at full speed, it’s going to take over an hour to reach it.” He squinted against the rising morning sun, at the sparkling water spread out over the river. He knew before the sun set again there’d be a lot more bodies piled up and waiting for the last train to the coast.

SEVENTY-EIGHT MINUTES LATER by Ryan’s chron, J.B. pi­loted the pirates’ flagship into the mouth of the narrow canyon leading to the oversize cistern the Foundation peo­ple used as a base. The Armorer kept the power on full ahead, skimming across the water as the diesels pushed them toward their final destination.

Ryan stood with difficulty on his wounded leg, which throbbed now, and had started to swell from all the damage and stress. Days were going to pass before he felt anywhere near normal again. His other wounds were dull aches.

The pirates maintained the distance, swapping occasional shots with the Foundation boats. Donovan had lost three more men, and Dean had gotten nicked along the left thigh.

Ryan stood now with J.B. on the flying deck. He man­aged the Steyr with greater ease. Aiming on the crest of the waves, even as fast as they came at the speed they traveled, had become easier.

The pirates had learned to stay back, and J.B. had offered the opinion that they were assuming the role of hounds in a long and arduous chase. They intended to run the Foun­dation boats to ground and kill everyone aboard.

When they entered the narrow canyon, the pirates strug­gled to form a single line. They also got braver, thinking the race was almost run.

Ryan hung on to the railing and braced the Steyr against his shoulder. He fired three rounds, all of them coring the lead boat behind them. Sparks jumped from the power­boat’s metal trim, and the boat pilot tried a defensive ma­neuver.

The wake left by the flagship and the six Foundation powerboats slopped up high on the sides of the canyon. Hitting the wake wrong, already trying to overcontrol his craft, the boat pilot slammed the powerboat into the side of the canyon. The hull ripped out of her, spilling her pas­sengers into the river. They promptly got hit by the boats behind.

Ryan glanced ahead again just as the pirate flagship roared through the canyon into the broad expanse of the cistern. He glanced along the top of the canyon, spotting the Foundation people on the edge around the dam. Don­ovan had judged it to be the safest place.