“Most definitely, my friend,” Mildred said, frowning. “I think the sec men want the pirates first, but we’re definitely number two on their hit list.”
“I do not know who to root for,” Doc muttered. “Glassman or the pirates.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Krysty said unhappily. “Both sides want us aced.”
“Better take this, Millie,” J.B. said, easing the tension on the arming bolt and passing over the bulky Thompson. “I can’t operate it and my Uzi at the same time.”
She bolstered her revolver. “Chambered for .22 rounds?” the physician asked, accepting the heavy rapidfire. She was surprised by its weight. The thing had to be ten pounds, maybe more.
“Nope, .45APC,” he replied, and began pulling rectangular ammo clips from his munitions bag.
“Can’t imagine we’ll need this to get out of here,” she said, stuffing the extra clips into her pockets.
“Madam, we are going to require a blessed miracle,” Doc said in a deadly serious tone.
Just then a Firebird launched from the Hummers, and arched over the wall to streak directly toward the companions.
“Incoming!” Ryan shouted, both of the Webley revolvers blazing away.
Chapter Ten
The companions cut loose as the rocket did a lazy spiral over the tumultuous pirate ville. Then it angled sharply and dived almost straight down to disappear behind a brick building. There immediately followed a tremendous explosion.
“Wasn’t after us,” Ryan said, lowering his blasters. A warm draft from the detonation washing over the companions, carrying the smell of sulfur and roasted flesh.
“Next time it will be,” Krysty stated, watching the mushroom-shaped cloud rise into the sky. Any hot explosion could cause a similar cloud, but the shape still disturbed her slightly.
Across the settlement, the blasterfire continued unabated from the wall, but the cannons were sounding more sporadically. Probably running low on black powder. The nameless ville had been there for decades and never been attacked. The locals simply weren’t prepared for a major battle against sec men armed with rapidfires and in war wags.
Screaming and pointing at the cloud, a group of terrified people ran out of the alleyway, clutching their meager possessions. The companions let them pass unmolested until some armed pirates ran into view. Both J.B. and Mildred dropped into a firing stance, and the Uzi and Thompson chattered briefly, mowing the men down.
Something slammed into the stone wall in front of them, and Dean spotted a sec man on a rooftop hastily reloading his longblaster. The boy raised the Weatherby, braced for the recoil and fired. The crack of the Nitro Express made heads turn across the ville, and it was a full second before the sniper flipped over backward. Without expression, Dean worked the bolt, levering in a fresh cartridge. At short range the massive rounds went straight through a man like a rock through glass, with about the same results.
Just then, a rickety cart loaded with barrels of black powder rattled by on the cobblestoned street, the driver cursing and whipping the sweaty horses. Dean raised the Weatherby, but Ryan stopped him from firing.
“We want the pirates to have the ammo,” he explained. “The longer they fight with the sec men, the fewer can come after us.”
“Gotcha,” he replied, easing the pressure on the hair trigger.
“Mayhap it would be appropriate to terminate our visit,” Doc rumbled, discharging the LeMat, then the Webley at pirates coming their way. One man dived for cover with a badly wounded arm, while the other went flat and stayed there.
“The mesa is only twenty miles or so to the west,” Mildred suggested, fighting to clear a jammed round. Over near the arena, she noted that plumes of smoke were rising from a two-story building with wooden shutters. Good.
Pulling out his scope, J.B. swept the entire ville.
“There’s a gate in the western wall,” he said, collapsing the brass telescope. “Only a few guards.”
“Horse cart came from over there,” Krysty said, making a gesture with her smoking revolver.
Choosing his target, Ryan chilled an officer on the wall, but ignored the troopers. The more confusion in the ranks, the longer the battle would last.
“Okay, let’s grab some transport,” Ryan said, deliberately not looking at Jak. “Twenty miles is a long way to run.”