tactics when a burst of energy knocked the carrier sideways. Hades’ teeth. They had bolt weapons, and another hit would fry his electronics and force him to drive without the assistance of the computer.
A check of the pod indicators confirmed that he wouldn’t be flying—the energy bolt had polarized the flight injectors. Gritting his teeth he drew on every skill he possessed to evade the outlaws. The bolt weapon sounded again but missed, and he marked its position, taking a precious second to alert his brothers, using the text mode, unsure if the enemy could intercept verbal communication.
Like a game of grimalkin and murine they sparred. Thorn hated playing the part of rodent, far more used to swiping with claws and superior strength. His brothers and the farm hands could travel more quickly given their cargo-free craft and smaller, more efficient engines, but now he wondered if he could give them enough time for a dramatic rescue. As if the enemy had anticipated his fear, an energy bolt sizzled and forced him to manual, the heavy vehicle challenging even his great strength, being designed for two operators. He’d been a fool to think he could take this most important journey without another male as back up. An arrogant, greedy fool, wanting to be the first to lay eyes on their intended in the flesh—so to speak.
The outlaws pulled closer and limited his field of evasion until he had the choice of slamming into one of them or standing down. He chose to stop and trust to the armor—he had weapons aboard and could defend the craft for some time if the armor held. If only there was enough time…
His com unit crackled, and a disembodied voice came forth. Surrender the craft and its cargo. We will spare you.
Sure they would. They’d kill him and make off with the craft, cargo and Adara. If it was just him he might consider trusting them, but he would never risk her. His blood chilled and ran sluggishly through his veins. If Orion and Kellis didn’t arrive in time and the outlaws breached the armor—
“Thorn?” Adara’s voice was thin with anxiety. He killed the com and set the systems to standby, once again checking the safe mode—intact.
“We must wait for reinforcements, agapi mou.” He ensured his tone communicated nothing but certainty and calm.
“Can I have a gun or something?”
Despite himself he whirled to stare at her, now disengaged from the seat and standing in her bare feet by a large crate marked Apparel . She held his gaze, green eyes clear and reflecting determination with a hint of fear. The rush of emotion squeezed his heart like a giant fist, and his knees weakened in the face of it. Their own redheaded woman, strong and powerful where it counted. Her surrender would be the greatest prize—if he lived long enough to see it.
Masking his feelings he moved to the weapons locker, sliding yet another crate out of the way. He withdrew two hand weapons and passed one to Adara who took it gingerly. He grabbed a long weapon with a sight and tucked the other into his belt.
“This dial indicates it is charged. Do not point it at anyone unless you intend to use it and depress this—” He showed her the trigger. “Be prepared for it to jolt in your hand, perhaps hold it in both hands, and do not drop it. And little one? Whatever you hit will fall and die, armor or no.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard, but she nodded her understanding.
“Say it back to me.” He knew it was likely unnecessary, but as with anything he or his brothers communicated to her, they would ensure she understood to avoid misunderstandings. Her language was their second one, after all.
“The green dial says it’s charged, point it like you mean it, shoot and people die.”
He studied her face. She was very pale but resolute so he touched her cheek gently and momentarily celebrated the fact she didn’t flinch from him. Perhaps this danger would serve to draw them together and make her training less
A check of the pod indicators confirmed that he wouldn’t be flying—the energy bolt had polarized the flight injectors. Gritting his teeth he drew on every skill he possessed to evade the outlaws. The bolt weapon sounded again but missed, and he marked its position, taking a precious second to alert his brothers, using the text mode, unsure if the enemy could intercept verbal communication.
Like a game of grimalkin and murine they sparred. Thorn hated playing the part of rodent, far more used to swiping with claws and superior strength. His brothers and the farm hands could travel more quickly given their cargo-free craft and smaller, more efficient engines, but now he wondered if he could give them enough time for a dramatic rescue. As if the enemy had anticipated his fear, an energy bolt sizzled and forced him to manual, the heavy vehicle challenging even his great strength, being designed for two operators. He’d been a fool to think he could take this most important journey without another male as back up. An arrogant, greedy fool, wanting to be the first to lay eyes on their intended in the flesh—so to speak.
The outlaws pulled closer and limited his field of evasion until he had the choice of slamming into one of them or standing down. He chose to stop and trust to the armor—he had weapons aboard and could defend the craft for some time if the armor held. If only there was enough time…
His com unit crackled, and a disembodied voice came forth. Surrender the craft and its cargo. We will spare you.
Sure they would. They’d kill him and make off with the craft, cargo and Adara. If it was just him he might consider trusting them, but he would never risk her. His blood chilled and ran sluggishly through his veins. If Orion and Kellis didn’t arrive in time and the outlaws breached the armor—
“Thorn?” Adara’s voice was thin with anxiety. He killed the com and set the systems to standby, once again checking the safe mode—intact.
“We must wait for reinforcements, agapi mou.” He ensured his tone communicated nothing but certainty and calm.
“Can I have a gun or something?”
Despite himself he whirled to stare at her, now disengaged from the seat and standing in her bare feet by a large crate marked Apparel . She held his gaze, green eyes clear and reflecting determination with a hint of fear. The rush of emotion squeezed his heart like a giant fist, and his knees weakened in the face of it. Their own redheaded woman, strong and powerful where it counted. Her surrender would be the greatest prize—if he lived long enough to see it.
Masking his feelings he moved to the weapons locker, sliding yet another crate out of the way. He withdrew two hand weapons and passed one to Adara who took it gingerly. He grabbed a long weapon with a sight and tucked the other into his belt.
“This dial indicates it is charged. Do not point it at anyone unless you intend to use it and depress this—” He showed her the trigger. “Be prepared for it to jolt in your hand, perhaps hold it in both hands, and do not drop it. And little one? Whatever you hit will fall and die, armor or no.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard, but she nodded her understanding.
“Say it back to me.” He knew it was likely unnecessary, but as with anything he or his brothers communicated to her, they would ensure she understood to avoid misunderstandings. Her language was their second one, after all.
“The green dial says it’s charged, point it like you mean it, shoot and people die.”
He studied her face. She was very pale but resolute so he touched her cheek gently and momentarily celebrated the fact she didn’t flinch from him. Perhaps this danger would serve to draw them together and make her training less
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