your weapons.'
Wocha's arm straightened. Her ax flew like a thunderbolt, and Morzacha's head burst open. The Donarrian roared and went against the enemy line.
They edged away, fearfully, and the Terrans followed her in a trotting wedge. Donovan moved up on Wocha's right side, sword hammering at the thrusts for her ribs.
An Arzunian yelled an order which must have meant 'Stop them!' Donovan saw the outer line break into a run, converging on the knot of struggle. No flying spears this time, she reflected in a moment's bleak satisfaction--tearing down those walls must have exhausted most of their directing energies.
A native rushed at her, sword whistling from behind a black shield. Donovan caught the blow on her own plundered scute, feeling it ring in the bones of her arm, and hewed back. Her blade screamed close to the white teeth-bared face, and she called a panting salutation: 'Try again, Davleka!'
'I will!'
The blows rained on her shield, sang viciously low to cut at her legs, clattering and clanging, whistle of air and howl of iron under the westering sun. She backed up against Wocha's side, where the Donarrian and the man smote against the airlock's defenders, and braced herself and struck out.
Davleka snarled and hacked at Donovan's spread leg. The Ansan's glaive snaked forth against her unshielded neck. Davleka's sword clashed to earth and she sprawled against the human. Raising her bloody face, she drew a knife, lifted it, and tried to thrust upward. Donovan, already crossing blades with Uboda, stamped on her hand. Davleka grinned, a rueful crooked grin through the streaming blood, and died.
Uboda pressed close, working up against Donovan's shield. She had none herself, but there was a dirk in her left hand. Her sword locked with Donovan's, strained it aside, and her knife clattered swiftly for an opening.
Hal turned about and struck from his seat. Uboda's head rolled against Donovan's shield and left a red splash down it. The woman retched.
Wocha, swinging one of her swords, pushed ahead into the Arzunians, crowding them aside by her sheer mass, beating down a guard and the helmet or armor beyond it. 'Clear!' she bellowed. 'I got the way clear, lady!'
Hal sprang to the ground and into the lock. 'Takahashi, Cohen, Basille, Wang-ki, come in and help me start the engines. The rest of you hold them off. Don't give them time to exert what collective para power they have left and ruin something. Make them think!'
'Think about their lives, huh?' Wocha squared off in front of the airlock and raised her sword. 'All right, girls, here they come. Let 'em have what they want.'
Donovan halted in the airlock. Valdum was there, his fiery head whirling in the rush of black-clad warriors. She leaned over and grabbed a spacewoman's arm. 'Ban Ali, go in and help start this crate. I have to stay here.'
'But--'
Donovan shoved her in, stood beside Takahashi, and braced herself to meet the Arzunian charge.
They rushed in, knowing that they had to kill the humans before there was an escape, swinging their weapons and howling. The shock of the assault threw women back, pressed them to the ship and jammed weapons close to pectorals. The Terrans cursed and began to use fists and feet, clearing a space to fight in.
Donovan's sword clashed against a shield, drove off another blade, stabbed for a face, and then it was all lost in the crazed maelstrom, hack and thrust and take the blows they give, hew, sword, hew!
They raged against Wocha, careless now of their lives, thundering blows against her shield, slashing and stabbing and using their last wizard strength to fill the air with blades. She roared and stood her ground, the sword leaped in her hand, metal clove in thunder. The shield was crumpled, falling apart--he tossed it with rib-cracking force against the nearest Arzunian. Her nicked and blunted sword burst against a helmet, and she drew the other.
The ship trembled, thutter of engines warming up, the eager promise of sky and stars and green Terra again. 'Get in!' bawled Donovan. 'Get in! We'll hold them!'
She stood by Wocha as the last crewmen entered, stood barring the airlock with a wall of blood and iron. Through a blurring vision, she saw Valdum approach.
He smiled at her, one slim hand running through the copper hair, the other held out in sign of peace. Tall and gracious and lovely beyond her knowing, he moved up toward Donovan, and his clear voice rang in her darkening mind.
Basille--you, at least, could stay. You could guide us out to the stars.
'You go away,' groaned Wocha.
The devil's rage flamed in his face. He yelled, and a lance whistled from the sky and buried itself in the great breast.
'Wocha!' yelled Donovan.
The Donarrian snarled and snapped off the shaft that stood between her ribs. She whirled it over her head, and Valdum's green eyes widened in fear.
'Donovan!' roared Wocha, and let it fly.
It smashed home, and the Ansan dropped her sword and swayed on her feet. She couldn't look on the broken thing which had been Valdum.
'Boss, you go home now.'
Wocha laid her in the airlock and slammed the outer valve shut. Turning, she faced the Arzunians. She couldn't see very well--one eye was gone, and there was a ragged darkness before the other. The sword felt heavy in her hand. But--
'Hooo!' she roared and charged them.
She spitted one and trampled another and tossed a third into the air. Whirling, she clove a head and smashed a rib-cage with her fist and chopped another across. Her sword broke, and she grabbed two Arzunians and cracked their skulls together.
They ran, then turned and fled from her. And she stood watching them go and laughed. Her laughter filled the city, rolling from its walls, drowning the whistle of the ship's takeoff and bringing blood to her lips. She wiped her mouth with the back of one hand, spat, and lay down.
'We're clear, Basille.' Hal clung to her, shivering in her arms, and she didn't know if it was a laugh or a sob in his throat. 'We're away, safe, we'll carry word back to Sol and they'll clear the Black Nebula for good.'
'Yeah.' She rubbed her eyes. 'Though I doubt the Navy will find anything. If those Arzunians have any sense, they'll project to various fringe planets, scatter, and try to pass as harmless humanoids. But it doesn't matter, I suppose. Their power is broken.'
'And we'll go back to your home, Basille, and bring Ansa and Terra together and have a dozen children and--'
She nodded. 'Sure. Sure.'
But she wouldn't forget. In the winter nights, when the stars were sharp and cold in a sky of ringing crystal black, she would--go out and watch them? Or pull her roof over her and wait for dawn? She didn't know yet.
Still--even if this was a long ways from being the best of all possible universes, it had enough in it to make a woman glad of her day.
She whistled softly, feeling the words ran through her head:
Lift your glasses high,
kiss the boys good-bye,
(Live well, my friend, live well, live you well)
for we're riding,
for we're riding,
for we're riding out to Terran sky! Terran sky! Terran sky!
The thought came all at once that it could be a song of comradeship, too.
THE END
Artwork by aeolis imagery
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JEKKARA PRESS
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You can find all of the Adventures of Bulays and Ghaavn as well as The Gender Switch Adventures at :
Coming Soon
The Adventures of Bulays and Ghaavn
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15 I, Lysithea: The Karshi Imperative Part 3 - Tara Loughead
The Gender Switch Adventures
A Witch
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The Dragon-Queen of Venus Rescaled – Lee Brackett
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