The Withered Land: Dragons and Marauders

Dragons and Marauders, Part Seventeen

Grasquan Bregsa still on his knees and facing forward, flexed his powerful thighs and launched himself backwards away from the railing overlooking the propulsion repair bay foyer. He slid nearly five feet away from his former sniper's position and rolled to his right side, bringing his pulse rifle to bear on the approaching form of Pnoom-Aig. But the female synthetic gene 'bot was already out-of-target position and had hurled herself into a distance-devouring, forward somersaulting roll that put her under Bregsa's gunsights. She came up on her knees facing the Blood-Haunter while her arm simultaneously shot out to slap the barrel of his weapon high. Bregsa immediately let go of the gun and it flew away, tumbling end-over-end past the railing into space. He jumped to his feet and pulled his sonic knife from its sheathe on the side of his calf, the foot long, curved, saw-toothed edged blade oscillating at a harmonic velocity strong enough to slice through steel as if it were porridge. He jabbed at Pnoom-Aig, spun and slashed first in one direction and then swiftly in the other, trying to catch her off-balance. Fast as he was, he moved like he was swimming through molasses relative to Pnoom-Aig. She hit the man in the chest with the flat of her hand, once, and, even through the protection of his torso's trauma armor, his breastbone shattered under his skin. He staggered, dropping the sonic knife. He died coughing out a thick gout of blood.

Unhurriedly emerging from the corridor and scanning the immediate vicinity for more attackers, Emaris Staurqe jogged over to where the two Xar'gueyeks lay and, swiftly bending down and grabbing each by his webbed utility belt, effortlessly picked them up and threw them over the mezzanine railing to fall three stories to the hard floor below.

"You two work too hard," Staurqe said. "You should have just let them shoot you. You could've withstood the pulse bolt impact without sustaining any damage. I doubt it would've even slowed you down. Thereafter, you could've just broken their necks."

Pnoom-Ogg sighed. "Yes, but getting shot would've hurt. A lot. And, though it would not have been enough to cripple or impair us, the pain would've been very distracting. Neither of us especially like pain."

Staurqe harrumphed. "Sad. You should've been trained early on to ignore pain. Your battle mentors were obviously lacking in thoroughness."

"Can we perhaps engage in a more productive exchange of information?" Pnoom-Aig chided. She found Staurqe's persistent pessimism aggravating.

"If the attack force follows standard insurgent infiltration-assault strategems, you'll likely find more Xar'gueyeks gathered some fifty-eight steps near the eastern debarkation passage leading to the Visitors' Hall down below," Staurqe said.

And without another word, he leapt up and over the mezzanine railing and dropped down to the debris and body-littered lower level, landing lightly. His descent was deceptively slow, as if he were floating, defying the pull of gravity. He landed without a sound and with no visible sign of inertial deceleration. He then looked up at his two less-advanced gene-'bot comrades and impatiently waved them down.

"Well, that's not going to happen. From this height, my body mass will cause me to strike the floor with almost the force of an artillery shell," Pnoom-Ogg remarked dispiritedly. "I could damage myself."

Pnoom-Aig looked over at her fraternal twin and said, "I suspect he can fly. Now that's not something we can do. As a matter of fact, that's not something I've ever seen any humanoid being do."

The twins briefly looked at one another, nodded together, and then spoke in-tandem. "Stairs. Move real fast."

They raced to the metal stairwell to join Staurqe below.

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