Chapter 66

Chapter Sixty-Six

Connor stood at the edge of the Lucky Sevens’s long shadow, booted feet spread wide, one sword raised heavenward, the other held parallel to the red-gray stone of the butte top. A soft breeze blew up from below, its heat carrying the stench of the lizards scraping up the rock wall to get to him.

In that moment, time was frozen.

This was the test of his commitment to Toshiko and the team. Fall, and he was unworthy. Stand, and the team lived.

And Toshiko would be there for him in the end.

He tightened his grip on the weapons’ hilts as the first lizard claws gained the butte top.

Then he charged forward.

There were three blue-green hands visible in the sunlight, separated by about six meters.

He stomped on the first hand, and bone cracked beneath his boot heel.

Before the thing fell away with a high-pitched chittering, Connor was on to the next one, the sword raised to strike crashing down hard enough to bite through lizard scales and bone and chip a piece of rock.

Connor jumped away before the creature’s blood could get on his boot.

But the third lizard stood atop the butte by then, and more clawed fingers slid over the top.

No challenge worth the effort was easy.

That was another thing Connor had learned from his father early on. Without struggle, life carried no lessons, and strength and growth came from lessons, whether those were victories or defeats.

Today, only victory was acceptable.

So, Connor skipped the last distance to the lizard, swords swinging overhead to draw its attention high. When it swiped its tail at the swords and raised its upper arms for protection, he spun on his booted heel and planted a roundhouse kick in the thing’s exposed gut.

It let out a surprised, “Gook,” then toppled over the side of the butte.

Four more of the things reached the top, but only one was on its feet.

Connor took the easy kills, once again stomping on an exposed hand to send one falling to its death, then kicking another in the face as it tried to scramble over the edge.

The one that had gained the top charged then, driving him away from the fourth one.

That was another lesson from his childhood: Never fight two when you can fight one. Never take the hard path when the easy path gains the same result.

Killing the defenseless enemy was practical.

Fighting the ready enemy came at a cost.

Connor would never attack an enemy in individual combat using such tactics. This was war, him fighting against far greater numbers. And this enemy wasn’t human.

When the charging lizard was nearly on him, Connor crossed his swords over his chest, dropped back, and kicked up his legs.

The lizard’s short middle arms grabbed Connor’s boots. It reached for his face with its upper arms.

Connor slashed with his swords, nearly beheading the thing.

Its legs went limp, and he let its momentum carrying him back, onto his feet.

His father would have been proud of the maneuver: quick, graceful, efficient.

But it had allowed another lizard onto the top of the butte.

Then another. Four more were climbing up.

The numbers were becoming untenable. Connor’s arms felt like lead, and his breathing was coming in deep, burning gasps that filled his head with the lizards’ foul, rotting smell.

Training could only go so far. Determination could extend that only so much.

He stepped toward the closer of the two lizards, and his boots slid in gore.

Connor dropped to a knee.

Both lizards rushed him. Two more rose over the edge.

One little mistake, and he was at a fatal disadvantage.

Then a whistle pierced the grunts and chittering that had become their own little soundtrack, distracting the lizards just enough for Connor to regain his footing and stumble back.

A second later, gunfire erupted, and bullets tore the four lizards to pieces.

In that momentary respite, Connor caught a glimpse of his teammates sprinting around the front of the Lucky Sevens. Smoke rose from the end of Mamacita, as Vicente shambled forward, looking no better than Connor.

The big man dropped the gun and freed himself from the litter. “Hold ‘em a second more!”

Connor sucked in the hot air, too winded to protest or agree.

The Moon twins unhooked their weapons but raised them to sight on the creatures climbing into view. They fired, clearing the butte again, then set their guns down and followed Vicente up the ramp.

That was enough for Connor to return to his previous effort of clearing off the creatures that hadn’t yet gotten over the side.

He hacked through wrists, stabbed eyes, and stomped claws into a pulp.

Then Vicente and the twins were there, each armed with the heavy, steel pry bars.

Together, the four of them were nearly a match for the lizards. They must have sent twenty tumbling down the butte to their deaths.

Somehow, they missed one. Then another.

Until finally they were surrounded by six of the things, pushing them back with slashes and tail swipes that would kill if they landed. More were coming over the edge.

Too many. In another few seconds, they would have the four humans completely surrounded, then it would be a matter of time before they would fall.

Connor straightened. “You got the others inside. That’s what matters.”

Vicente spat and poked his pry bar at the nearest lizard. “Nah. We were supposed to survive, Boss.”

The creatures moved closer. They chittered—first one, then another.

Then the noise came up from the butte side.

It sent a deep, draining chill along Connor’s back. He’d come so close—

A distinctive roar came from behind and above: Kalpana’s sniper rifle.

Blood gushed from the head of the creature to Connor’s right. It collapsed.

When its nearest ally turned toward the sound, Connor caved its head in.

Another shot roared from the top of the ramp, and one of the things threatening Vicente fell back, flailing weakly.

Then Kalpana banged on the outer hull. “Let’s go!”

Connor waved the others up ahead of him, then backed up the ramp, swords slashing in front of him to keep the creatures back until the airlock door hissed shut.

When Kalpana squeezed his shoulder, he dropped to the airlock floor, gasping and shuddering.

She equated beside him. “That was the easy part, right?” She smiled.

He laughed. What else was he supposed to do? She was right.