“Nothing like standing around with our dicks hanging out,” Jenkins muttered.
I shrugged. Let the aliens kill each other. As long as I got to stand over the dead body of my brother’s killer and then go home to Lyra, I was content.
Two seconds later the lights overhead sputtered like dying stars.
Then came theclang—like steel jaws snapping shut.
Thick blast doors slammed closed above us, trapping the Atlans on the upper level.
The lights died completely. Darkness swallowed everything.
“Shit,” Jenkins muttered. “These things have night vision?”
They did and the world turned into tones of sepia beige and muted green.
Then came the sound. Not boots. Metal sliding on gears. The sound of an elevator or pulley system.
Two shapes rose on platforms from trap doors in the floor—tall, armored, eyes glowing faintly silver. Their weapons wereincorporated in their flesh, if that’s what you wanted to call the silver that moved and shifted over their skin and muscles as if they were composed of living metal.
“Ethan, look out!” Lyra’s voice exploded in my comm as the cyborgs turned in perfect synchronization to face us.
“That’s him.” Jenkins tone was cold as death itself.
My skin tingled like I’d touched a live wire as I stared into the massive, brutish face of what had once been an Atlan Warlord. I knew that face. I’d watched the video of him throwing my brother into the Atlantic hundreds of times. Over and over.
Watched him tear Jenkins’ wife and daughter into pieces with a brutal ferocity I’d never seen before or since, not even in a wild animal.
Jenkins and I hit the ground and rolled down just as they fired their first rounds.
Whatever they were shooting at us arced and danced through the air like lightning.
Pain detonated across my chest like a live wire exploding under my skin. It knocked me back and sent my senses ringing. My entire body went numb, useless, like I’d been hit with a taser. Beside me, Jenkins took a hit and let out a guttural curse, collapsing to his knees.
If we hadn’t been wearing the Coalition battle armor, we’d both already be dead.
The second shot streaked past my face, a flash of electric blue that sizzled like plasma, hit the wall and left a scorch mark just like the one Jenkins and I saw at the crime scene. They definitely weren’t firing bullets.
Jenkins dragged in air between clenched teeth. “Fucking bastard,” he hissed.
I shoved back with everything I had until my back hit the bottom stair. I used the leverage to sit up. Lifted my ion blaster.To my fried muscles, the damn thing felt like it weighed fifty pounds. Grunting with the effort, I aimed. Fired.
Didn’t even make a dent.
Beside me, Jenkins did the same as I checked the weapon, turned it to its highest, most powerful setting. Fired.
Nothing. “We’re under attack.” We were going to need some help. We were holding them back but doing zero damage. Jenkins lit them up as I looked around for cover. Anything we could use. “The cyborgs aren’t in their stasis pods anymore.”
“Fuck. We’re on the way.” That was one of the Prillons.
The giant cyborgs took another step toward us as explosions and the roars of Warlords in battle came through from the level above. The Atlans had their own problems. I had no idea where the Prillons were or how long it would take them to reach us.
Too long.
The effects of the initial shot were fading. Every muscle tingled and burned as the nerves came back to life, but I could move. I grabbed Jenkins and pulled him toward the door that led to the rear loading docks. Maybe, if we could make it into that corridor, we’d have a chance. Maybe meet the Prillon team halfway.
The monster who killed Eddie shot some kind of flying blade from his body. It whirled like a boomerang before slicing Jenkins’ thigh wide open. I dragged him away from the cyborgs as I continued firing.
“We’re fucked,” Jenkins shouted.
