[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
the norms.
"Aim for their heads!" Ryan shouted, switching to his right hand and wincing
every time he fired. Blood dribbled from his hand, but the man didn't slow or
stop.
More stickies boiled out of the bushes, and J.B. flipped the switch on the Uzi
to full-auto. The chattering little machine gun sprayed a halo of hot lead
death at the scampering creatures.
Lowering the LeMat, Doc held down the trigger and fanned the hammer. The
Civil War hand cannon repeatedly thundered in discharge, blowing a foot-long
lance of flame from the barrel, followed by a dense blast of black smoke.
Stickies fell, but more replaced them.
"Shit. There's too many," J.B. cursed, working the bolt on the Uzi to clear a
jammed round.
The booming .357 penetrated the crude armor, chilling with every hit. Ryan
fired nonstop, chilling with every round, but the man was becoming pale, his
sleeve red with blood.
"Use the grens," Ryan panted, dropping a clip from the SIG-Sauer, and needing
two tries to insert a fresh magazine.
While J.B. and Mildred maintained fire, the rest of the companions dug the
black-
powder grens from their pockets, pulled the pins and threw. Then they wisely
ducked, not knowing how well the reloads would work.
Two of the charges exploded in the air, showering everybody with hot steel.
Doc felt a tug on his frock coat from passing shrapnel, Jak jerked as a piece
of the shattered casing hit his jacket but failed to penetrate the razor
blades hidden inside the lapels. He muttered something and threw the other
repaired gren as far as possible without pulling the pin first. Damn things
were worse than useless.
Bleeding from a hundred wounds, the stickies broke their charge and stood
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%...eathlands%2053%20-%20Savage%20Arma
da.html (248 of 274) [12/29/2004 12:20:16 AM]
Page 142
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathla
nds%2053%20-%20Savage%20Armada.html dumbly picking at the wounds. Two more
grens hit the ground and did nothing, but the last three finally detonated,
sending pieces of muties skyward. Startled and frightened, the stickies
started attacking one another, and the chaos soon spread until the fields were
filled with the creatures hacking each other to bits with the stone axes.
Rummaging in his munitions bag, J.B. unearthed two real grens and used them to
clear a gory path through the infighting. Running and shooting, the companions
reached the trees again, and stopped to chill some stickies coming after them.
When it was clear, they continued for the lagoon, leaping over the exposed
roots and ducking under low-hanging limbs. Cannonfire from the harbor could
still be heard, but it was more sporadic. The battle was being won by
somebody. Not good news.
Finally reaching the beach, they dashed for the trembling PT boat and hoisted
one another onto the deck. Ryan went straight for the big .50-caliber machine
gun and needed both hands to work the arming bolt. A lone stickie appeared
from the trees, appearing mostly confused and he tore it apart with a short
burst.
"Get this crate moving!" he shouted, gritting his teeth against the pain. The
SIG-
Sauer had been uncomfortable, but operating the fifty was like shoving his
hand into acid.
J.B. stood at the ruin of the wheelhouse, the broken remains of the walls
rising no higher than a foot. The captain's chair was gone, as were the
control board and the steering wheel. A few wires were sticking from the deck.
Walking halfway down the short flight of steps that led to the lower level, he
twisted two of the wires together and nothing happened. Shit, no electric
gears. They had to be manual.
"Mildred, flashlight! Find the transmission and put this thing into neutral
before we blow a gear!" J.B. shouted, prying away boards with his hands.
The woman darted below, flashlight in hand. A few seconds later, the craft
stopped trembling as the propellers were disengaged.
Finding a yoke with taut cables attached, J.B. tried to shift its position,
and there was some reaction at the stern of the boat. But not enough. No time
for repairs.
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%...eathlands%2053%20-%20Savage%20Arma
da.html (249 of 274) [12/29/2004 12:20:16 AM]
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathla
nds%2053%20-%20Savage%20Armada.html
"Doc, I need your sword!"
The scholar tossed over the ebony stick. J.B. made the catch and unsheathed
the blade to plunge it into the wooden yoke. Grabbing the lion's-head handle,
he now had some leverage and the yoke moved much easier.
"How's the boiler?" he shouted, flipping switches.
"Seems undamaged!" Krysty answered, checking the pipes and valves.
"Keep me posted on the readings!" J.B. ordered, experimenting with the yoke.
"Dean, in the hold with Millie. Stoke the boiler and keep up the pressure."
"Check," the boy cried, and disappeared down the stairs.
"Haul ass!" Ryan shouted, burping the fifty again. The hail of bullets tore
apart something in the trees overhead that screamed and thrashed about before
plummeting into the lagoon and sinking without a trace.
Suddenly, Krysty and Jak started firing at the shore. Sec men from the ville
dived for cover, and shot back with their long flintlocks. The muzzle loaders
booming loudly, the .75 miniballs slammed into the boat with sledgehammer
blows. Then one of the sec men screamed as a stickie wrapped its tentacles
around his face and dragged the man off into the bushes. Caught reloading, the
other pulled a knife, but the stickies pounded the norm with their axes until
Page 143
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the screaming stopped.
Ryan wasted no bullets until the creatures started shambling for the boat.
He'd been hoping they would be content with the guards. There was only one
belt of ammo for the fifty anywhere about; the rest had probably blown
overboard when the Firebird hit. Unfortunately stickies were attracted to
noise and fire like moths to flame. The more the companions fought, the more
the muties wanted them.
The scent of the fire was beginning to taint the air as Ryan cut the
abominations apart. The waterfall was making it impossible to hear any
movements, so the man followed his instincts and sprayed half of the remaining
ammo around them in a
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%...eathlands%2053%20-%20Savage%20Arma
da.html (250 of 274) [12/29/2004 12:20:16 AM]
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathla
nds%2053%20-%20Savage%20Armada.html full circle. Startled cries announced
numerous hits on men and muties.
"Reverse gear!" J.B. shouted, pulling on the sword. The props spun wildly
behind the gunboat, churning the water into froth. Then the craft jerked
backward, scraping its hull loudly on the sand, and started chugging across
the lagoon.
Switching gears, the PT headed along the shallow runoff water until reaching
the harbor and then leaping ahead with renewed speed. More stickies rushed
from the bushes, chasing after the departing vessel, only to flounder in the
deep water and drown as they tried to reach the norms on board.
Ahead of the companions, the sea battle raged on. Four Peteys were darting
around the last two pirate ships, weapons chattering steadily. The cannons
from the ville sounded now and then, but the fighting crafts were beyond their
limited range.
Taking a piece of shirt from a torso of dead sailor jammed under the port
cannon, Ryan wrapped the cloth around his aching palm. It slowed the flow of
blood.
Good enough for now.
"Now what?" J.B. shouted. "We're mobile, but in a bottleneck. Use the pass,
and we're sitting ducks for those wall cannons!"
"Fuck the pass," Ryan growled, digging in a pocket with his uninjured hand and
extracting his butane lighter. He flicked it once to check the flame, then
headed for the undamaged Firebird pod. "We're going straight through the coral [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
the norms.
"Aim for their heads!" Ryan shouted, switching to his right hand and wincing
every time he fired. Blood dribbled from his hand, but the man didn't slow or
stop.
More stickies boiled out of the bushes, and J.B. flipped the switch on the Uzi
to full-auto. The chattering little machine gun sprayed a halo of hot lead
death at the scampering creatures.
Lowering the LeMat, Doc held down the trigger and fanned the hammer. The
Civil War hand cannon repeatedly thundered in discharge, blowing a foot-long
lance of flame from the barrel, followed by a dense blast of black smoke.
Stickies fell, but more replaced them.
"Shit. There's too many," J.B. cursed, working the bolt on the Uzi to clear a
jammed round.
The booming .357 penetrated the crude armor, chilling with every hit. Ryan
fired nonstop, chilling with every round, but the man was becoming pale, his
sleeve red with blood.
"Use the grens," Ryan panted, dropping a clip from the SIG-Sauer, and needing
two tries to insert a fresh magazine.
While J.B. and Mildred maintained fire, the rest of the companions dug the
black-
powder grens from their pockets, pulled the pins and threw. Then they wisely
ducked, not knowing how well the reloads would work.
Two of the charges exploded in the air, showering everybody with hot steel.
Doc felt a tug on his frock coat from passing shrapnel, Jak jerked as a piece
of the shattered casing hit his jacket but failed to penetrate the razor
blades hidden inside the lapels. He muttered something and threw the other
repaired gren as far as possible without pulling the pin first. Damn things
were worse than useless.
Bleeding from a hundred wounds, the stickies broke their charge and stood
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%...eathlands%2053%20-%20Savage%20Arma
da.html (248 of 274) [12/29/2004 12:20:16 AM]
Page 142
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathla
nds%2053%20-%20Savage%20Armada.html dumbly picking at the wounds. Two more
grens hit the ground and did nothing, but the last three finally detonated,
sending pieces of muties skyward. Startled and frightened, the stickies
started attacking one another, and the chaos soon spread until the fields were
filled with the creatures hacking each other to bits with the stone axes.
Rummaging in his munitions bag, J.B. unearthed two real grens and used them to
clear a gory path through the infighting. Running and shooting, the companions
reached the trees again, and stopped to chill some stickies coming after them.
When it was clear, they continued for the lagoon, leaping over the exposed
roots and ducking under low-hanging limbs. Cannonfire from the harbor could
still be heard, but it was more sporadic. The battle was being won by
somebody. Not good news.
Finally reaching the beach, they dashed for the trembling PT boat and hoisted
one another onto the deck. Ryan went straight for the big .50-caliber machine
gun and needed both hands to work the arming bolt. A lone stickie appeared
from the trees, appearing mostly confused and he tore it apart with a short
burst.
"Get this crate moving!" he shouted, gritting his teeth against the pain. The
SIG-
Sauer had been uncomfortable, but operating the fifty was like shoving his
hand into acid.
J.B. stood at the ruin of the wheelhouse, the broken remains of the walls
rising no higher than a foot. The captain's chair was gone, as were the
control board and the steering wheel. A few wires were sticking from the deck.
Walking halfway down the short flight of steps that led to the lower level, he
twisted two of the wires together and nothing happened. Shit, no electric
gears. They had to be manual.
"Mildred, flashlight! Find the transmission and put this thing into neutral
before we blow a gear!" J.B. shouted, prying away boards with his hands.
The woman darted below, flashlight in hand. A few seconds later, the craft
stopped trembling as the propellers were disengaged.
Finding a yoke with taut cables attached, J.B. tried to shift its position,
and there was some reaction at the stern of the boat. But not enough. No time
for repairs.
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%...eathlands%2053%20-%20Savage%20Arma
da.html (249 of 274) [12/29/2004 12:20:16 AM]
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathla
nds%2053%20-%20Savage%20Armada.html
"Doc, I need your sword!"
The scholar tossed over the ebony stick. J.B. made the catch and unsheathed
the blade to plunge it into the wooden yoke. Grabbing the lion's-head handle,
he now had some leverage and the yoke moved much easier.
"How's the boiler?" he shouted, flipping switches.
"Seems undamaged!" Krysty answered, checking the pipes and valves.
"Keep me posted on the readings!" J.B. ordered, experimenting with the yoke.
"Dean, in the hold with Millie. Stoke the boiler and keep up the pressure."
"Check," the boy cried, and disappeared down the stairs.
"Haul ass!" Ryan shouted, burping the fifty again. The hail of bullets tore
apart something in the trees overhead that screamed and thrashed about before
plummeting into the lagoon and sinking without a trace.
Suddenly, Krysty and Jak started firing at the shore. Sec men from the ville
dived for cover, and shot back with their long flintlocks. The muzzle loaders
booming loudly, the .75 miniballs slammed into the boat with sledgehammer
blows. Then one of the sec men screamed as a stickie wrapped its tentacles
around his face and dragged the man off into the bushes. Caught reloading, the
other pulled a knife, but the stickies pounded the norm with their axes until
Page 143
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the screaming stopped.
Ryan wasted no bullets until the creatures started shambling for the boat.
He'd been hoping they would be content with the guards. There was only one
belt of ammo for the fifty anywhere about; the rest had probably blown
overboard when the Firebird hit. Unfortunately stickies were attracted to
noise and fire like moths to flame. The more the companions fought, the more
the muties wanted them.
The scent of the fire was beginning to taint the air as Ryan cut the
abominations apart. The waterfall was making it impossible to hear any
movements, so the man followed his instincts and sprayed half of the remaining
ammo around them in a
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%...eathlands%2053%20-%20Savage%20Arma
da.html (250 of 274) [12/29/2004 12:20:16 AM]
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathla
nds%2053%20-%20Savage%20Armada.html full circle. Startled cries announced
numerous hits on men and muties.
"Reverse gear!" J.B. shouted, pulling on the sword. The props spun wildly
behind the gunboat, churning the water into froth. Then the craft jerked
backward, scraping its hull loudly on the sand, and started chugging across
the lagoon.
Switching gears, the PT headed along the shallow runoff water until reaching
the harbor and then leaping ahead with renewed speed. More stickies rushed
from the bushes, chasing after the departing vessel, only to flounder in the
deep water and drown as they tried to reach the norms on board.
Ahead of the companions, the sea battle raged on. Four Peteys were darting
around the last two pirate ships, weapons chattering steadily. The cannons
from the ville sounded now and then, but the fighting crafts were beyond their
limited range.
Taking a piece of shirt from a torso of dead sailor jammed under the port
cannon, Ryan wrapped the cloth around his aching palm. It slowed the flow of
blood.
Good enough for now.
"Now what?" J.B. shouted. "We're mobile, but in a bottleneck. Use the pass,
and we're sitting ducks for those wall cannons!"
"Fuck the pass," Ryan growled, digging in a pocket with his uninjured hand and
extracting his butane lighter. He flicked it once to check the flame, then
headed for the undamaged Firebird pod. "We're going straight through the coral [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]