Tobias Buckell - Ragamuffin

“You gonna slow down soon?”

“Sunline’s coming for us. Have to wait until the last possible second.” Nashara watched the sunline snort again. Dawn had come to them.

The next batch of stratatoi would hit them as they came in to the end cap. There might even be stratatoi waiting there.

“The boy, how is he?”

Tense, she waited and watched the stratatoi and sunline race each other toward them. Kara twisted and cried, and Jared remained quiet. Sean kept shifting around, no doubt checking the boy. “He got a pulse, still. He got a pulse.”

The sunline made it hard to see now.

“We’re coming in fast, Nashara,” Sean said.

Bullets cracked by them. This time going the opposite way. “I can see the other balcony, a bunch of them men up in there.”

The Satrap had gotten stratatoi there in time.

“Give Kara a gun,” Nashara said. “Everyone get ready. This’ll hurt. When the minigun runs out of ammo, Ijjy, cut us loose. If we spread out we’re harder to shoot. Use your guns to slow down the rest of the way. Sean, take Jared with you. Ijjy, show the girl how to fire.”

Nashara fired a shot to slowly spin them around. The balcony on the other end cap of Agathonosis grew, until she began to make out the windows. More rounds slapped through the air as the stratatoi bettered their aim.

It didn’t feel as if they were moving through the sky, but that they were falling through a vortex of land and clouds toward the ground of the balcony, Nashara first, with the mass of strapped-on people behind her.

She shook her head roughly and bit her lip as she aimed the minigun down, psyching herself into pulling the trigger.

The minigun howled, the pain shot through her whole body. Blood leaked out from around the bruises, then stopped as the gun chewed its way through the skin and hit the armored underlayer of her body.

Still it howled. Then Nashara let go of the trigger.

The barrel whirred loudly.

They still flew toward balcony, only it was a disastrous mess of glass shards and the doors were barely hanging on. They rushed toward it all.

“Cutting,” Ijjy yelled.

Nashara burst free of the rope and kicked clear. She had two hundred rounds left. They yanked free of the ammunition box with her.

Bullets cracked past. Ijjy and Sean returned fire.

A figure whipped past them, badly burned, but still trying to aim and fire at them. It disappeared ahead of them into the balcony.

Nashara aimed the minigun at the now rapidly moving cloud of men chasing them and fired the last two hundred rounds in a last three-second scream.

Without the mass of the others it kicked her back up to fifty kilometers an hour toward the balcony. But judging by the puffs of red, she’d done a lot of damage.

Nashara tossed the minigun free as she flew toward the balcony, switching to the machine gun to fire at any movement. She struck the entry door and shattered it. Wood splinters pierced Nashara and a bolt struck her in the head.

Dazed by the impact, she flailed and spun wildly, striking pillars, and the inside wall of the balcony. For a second she hung in the air, assessing damage, then the rest of her group burst in.

Ijjy was swearing, but sounded alive. She heard crying.

One of the stratatoi waiting for them survived, somewhat. A moaning echoed around the room.

“Everyone, get behind a pillar!” Nashara yelled.

A patter of spent casings began to ping against the inside walls, and then it turned to hail. A loud, wet smack of a body moving over a hundred kilometers an hour hitting something solid made Nashara wince. And then came another.

Then burned, shot, or screaming stratatoi rained down for the next two minutes as Nashara huddled in safety with the others. Glass flew, viscera floated by, and Nashara kept counting the impacts as she flashed back to estimates on how many had jumped out after them. The blaze of the sunline filled the room now that the autotinting windows had been destroyed.

The sound of bodies slowed, the occasional pinging of spent cartridges died off.

“Okay, let’s get moving.”

She pushed over to Ijjy, who held Sean by the legs. Ijjy looked up, tears pooling around his eyes and breaking off into the air. Nashara shook her head, but Ijjy nodded. A giant slab of glass protruded from Sean’s chest.

“He’s bleeding again,” Kara screamed.

Jared lay still in the air, a bullet hole in his chest still pumping a faint fountain of blood into the air above him.

Kara had her face buried in Jared’s chest, her hand pressed against the hole in him, begging the blood to stop spurting. But it kept coming and she kept screaming as it trickled out between her fingers.

He looked at her. He kept mumbling something to her, but she couldn’t hear him, couldn’t stop screaming, until suddenly strong hands ripped her clear and flung her aside.

Kara grabbed at empty air and Ijjy caught her.

Nashara hung over Jared, ripping up a piece of her shirt to use as a bandage. Kara saw Sean and gasped, horrified at the jagged slab of glass that had impaled him.

A hundred feet away one of the stratatoi kept screaming.

“Is he going to live?” Kara sobbed.

“Maybe.” Nashara packed the shirt on. “Ijjy, hold that on him tight.”

Kara trembled and raised the gun they’d given her to slow herself down. It was still armed, and large in her hands.

Kara kicked off the pillar hard toward the sound of the moaning man. She bounced against the wall and slid until she found a handhold near him.

“Kara!” Nashara shouted.

Kara sighted down the notch above the handle, and the burned face of the man on the wall turned to her.

She screamed, pulled the trigger, and moved back from the man. She’d missed.

Nashara slapped into her. “What the hell?”

“They deserve to die,” Kara yelled. “All of them. They killed Jared.”

She got spun around by Nashara, who was covered in blood. “That’s a dangerous path you’re aiming for. You sure you want to go down it?”

Kara grimaced. “The Satrap took their minds. They’re not human.”

Nashara turned away. “Once you start this, you never really get to go back to the way you were. No matter how hard you try. There’s a lot you can do. You can still help your brother. Understand. Help your brother. Talk to him, keep something on the bleeding, and help Ijjy with him. You don’t have to do this. Let me.”

She shoved Kara back toward them, taking the gun from her as she did so. Kara watched, then, as Nashara moved over to the mewling stratatoi and fired. She jerked back from a sudden cloud of red and gray matter. The body jerked off the wall and floated away, slowly spinning as it trailed blood.

Kara threw up.

The Toucan Too had been moved out to the rim of the end cap, ready to get flung clear of the habitat. After hanging in the air so long, it felt good to be able to walk around. But Nashara could hardly appreciate that. She almost tore the Toucan Too apart, looking for a medpod, near frustration, tired, bleeding from another damn shot that had winged her on the way down the claustrophobic corridors to the outer-rim docks.

“Damnit don’t just stand there!”

Ijjy held the limp boy in one arm, held his chest in another, and the kid would probably die from all the running. Internal bleeding. Clots.

The Toucan Too was a bullet-shaped capsule mounted on a slender antimatter drive, a long tube with a nozzle. A central shaft with rungs and rails led from the cockpit to the end, rooms radiating out from the core shaft. And Nashara broke into every one of them.

“They’d be fucking insane if they didn’t have one,” Nashara snapped. Crossing the long distances between wormholes and planets without a medpod was… well, she’d already voiced her opinion.