to say?"
"Ouanargh oant!" said Lucky Pete to Fleetwood's face.
"I think you all got the gist of that one," said Mechatronic. "I am truly sorry, Captain, but I can do little or nothing to help you. I am still too badly damaged from the crash to be of assistance. I believe this is where my journey finally ends. I, at least, have the comfort that I spent my final day with you, your sister and your crew. I experienced something more than a mere continuation of life."
She gazed at Hartwell's face as she spoke and each saw the same sadness reflected there—a sadness that encompassed not only the impending death of all in the room, but also the fact that she and Hartwell would never get to know each other.
hapterifteen
" his is the end for all of you," shouted Fleetwood, thrusting Ruby away with such force she was flung across the room and landed heavily on the floor.
"Men, ladies," responded Hartwell, standing and drawing his sword. "It has been an honour. Now, for honour, we die."
"For honour!" yelled his crew, drawing swords, daggers and short sticks from a variety of unlikely hiding places as they stood and faced the rush of Fleetwood's men into the room.
Outnumbered, the new crew fought bravely but badly. Keating was punching and kicking at any of Fleetwood's men who came too close, many of whom immediately saw through her disguise and pressed in toward her with evil leers on their faces.
Bardon was duelling well, but his diminutive stature told against the longer arms and taller bodies of his opponents, while Blake was hampered by his deafness, which affected his balance and weakened his defence. Anatole clearly had no idea how to fight and instead relied on his fearsome appearance and huge frame to intimidate and crush any who got too close. Lucky Pete was flailing wildly in any direction with his arms, unable to see his attackers or to hear them over the melee, and though Susanna fought well with fists and sword, her size counted against her.
This left Madrigal, Hartwell and Fitch to take the bulk of the fight. Madrigal was one of the dirtiest fighters ever to grace the Caribbean, Fitch was devious with a sword and Hartwell brilliant, but he merely defended rather than attacked, turning his blade left and right as he blocked and parried the increasingly infuriated Fleetwood and two of his henchmen.
Mechatronic, blocking the strike of one of Fleetwood's goons with a smooth movement before dropping the man with a vicious knee to the groin, wondered at Hartwell's tactics before having to face another attack by two more henchmen. She blocked the blow from the first man, though it rocked her back on her heels to do so and her counter punch lacked any real force. She cursed at the damage she had taken during the crash landing and the weakness it inflicted on her.
As suddenly as the violence had begun, it ceased. A few of Fleetwood's men lay on the floor, dead or dying, and while all of Hartwell's crew were still standing, they were all panting with exertion and fear, and most had livid welts or bloodied slashes about them from the enemy attack.
"It's no good," crowed Fleetwood. "You have been lucky, but luck will only take you so far. How long can you stand against the next attack? How long before we crush you with our superior numbers? You are finished, Hartwell!"
It seemed that Fleetwood was right. Both the exits were blocked, more of Fleetwood's men waited outside, unable to enter the fray simply because the room, though large, wasn't large enough to hold them all and Hartwell's crew was already tiring under the onslaught.
"Men!" roared Fleetwood. "Victory is ours! Prepare for the final attack!" He raised his sword, as did his crew, and they rushed once more at their prey.
hapterixteen
ne of Fleetwood's men leapt forward and swung his sword down at Fitch, who didn't have time to jump aside and could only fling up a
"Ouanargh oant!" said Lucky Pete to Fleetwood's face.
"I think you all got the gist of that one," said Mechatronic. "I am truly sorry, Captain, but I can do little or nothing to help you. I am still too badly damaged from the crash to be of assistance. I believe this is where my journey finally ends. I, at least, have the comfort that I spent my final day with you, your sister and your crew. I experienced something more than a mere continuation of life."
She gazed at Hartwell's face as she spoke and each saw the same sadness reflected there—a sadness that encompassed not only the impending death of all in the room, but also the fact that she and Hartwell would never get to know each other.
hapterifteen
" his is the end for all of you," shouted Fleetwood, thrusting Ruby away with such force she was flung across the room and landed heavily on the floor.
"Men, ladies," responded Hartwell, standing and drawing his sword. "It has been an honour. Now, for honour, we die."
"For honour!" yelled his crew, drawing swords, daggers and short sticks from a variety of unlikely hiding places as they stood and faced the rush of Fleetwood's men into the room.
Outnumbered, the new crew fought bravely but badly. Keating was punching and kicking at any of Fleetwood's men who came too close, many of whom immediately saw through her disguise and pressed in toward her with evil leers on their faces.
Bardon was duelling well, but his diminutive stature told against the longer arms and taller bodies of his opponents, while Blake was hampered by his deafness, which affected his balance and weakened his defence. Anatole clearly had no idea how to fight and instead relied on his fearsome appearance and huge frame to intimidate and crush any who got too close. Lucky Pete was flailing wildly in any direction with his arms, unable to see his attackers or to hear them over the melee, and though Susanna fought well with fists and sword, her size counted against her.
This left Madrigal, Hartwell and Fitch to take the bulk of the fight. Madrigal was one of the dirtiest fighters ever to grace the Caribbean, Fitch was devious with a sword and Hartwell brilliant, but he merely defended rather than attacked, turning his blade left and right as he blocked and parried the increasingly infuriated Fleetwood and two of his henchmen.
Mechatronic, blocking the strike of one of Fleetwood's goons with a smooth movement before dropping the man with a vicious knee to the groin, wondered at Hartwell's tactics before having to face another attack by two more henchmen. She blocked the blow from the first man, though it rocked her back on her heels to do so and her counter punch lacked any real force. She cursed at the damage she had taken during the crash landing and the weakness it inflicted on her.
As suddenly as the violence had begun, it ceased. A few of Fleetwood's men lay on the floor, dead or dying, and while all of Hartwell's crew were still standing, they were all panting with exertion and fear, and most had livid welts or bloodied slashes about them from the enemy attack.
"It's no good," crowed Fleetwood. "You have been lucky, but luck will only take you so far. How long can you stand against the next attack? How long before we crush you with our superior numbers? You are finished, Hartwell!"
It seemed that Fleetwood was right. Both the exits were blocked, more of Fleetwood's men waited outside, unable to enter the fray simply because the room, though large, wasn't large enough to hold them all and Hartwell's crew was already tiring under the onslaught.
"Men!" roared Fleetwood. "Victory is ours! Prepare for the final attack!" He raised his sword, as did his crew, and they rushed once more at their prey.
hapterixteen
ne of Fleetwood's men leapt forward and swung his sword down at Fitch, who didn't have time to jump aside and could only fling up a
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