Read Online Back From the Dead by Rolf Nelson - Free Book Online Page B

knee and one hand, then fires one-handed at the quad-rotor as it dodges and jerks behind their swooping, twisting flier. He struggles to keep his feet as Helton dives and swerves, his view out the back door shifting wildly. A series of holes runs up the loading ramp, and a splash of bullets glint as they ricochet around the cargo hold, and one tears through Harbin’s leg in a small spray of gore. No bones hit, but more than a scratch. Harbin is trying to pick his shots, but the combination of Helton’s evasive flying and the quad-rotor’s erratic motion makes the challenge impossible even for him. Frustrated, he drops the magazine and slams another into the gun, switches to full-auto, and hoses down the general area of the quad-rotor, sending hot brass flying all over the cargo area.
    The quad-rotor pilot has one hand on the belt-fed pintle-mounted light machine gun, the other on the control yoke. He fires in short bursts at the escaping flier as he flies erratically back and forth. A bullet breaks his windscreen, making him swerve. He fires back. The two aircraft swoop through a series of tight turns with steep canyon walls on each side, and another round tears a small hole in the front of his quad-rotor. He starts to fire again, but a stream of full-auto tracer fire blossoms out from the flier, and he dodges wildly to avoid it.
    In the flier cockpit, Helton twists and turns the control yoke as the canyon walls flash by through windows and screens. He flips a switch, adjusts a large lever forward. He grits his teeth and, seeing a sheer wall ahead, pulls back hard on the yoke.
    The tracer fire stops and the guard banks the quad-rotor back into position to fire another burst. Suddenly, the flier pulls straight up, revealing a sheer rock wall ahead.
    Harbin inserts another magazine without removing the rifle from his shoulder, and Helton stands the craft on its tail and climbs straight up. Harbin pitches forward and down through the half open ramp door, finally getting a clear and close, if unanticipated, shot at the quad-rotor. He fires a long burst on full-auto as he falls. Tracer rounds stream across the aircraft and its pilot.
    The guard rocks back as bullets rip through him. Others plow through one of the engines, disrupting rapidly spinning parts. The engine explodes and the windshield shatters and the aircraft hurtles directly at Harbin. He hits the end of his safety line hard and is jerked up out of the way, like a high-speed yoyo being reeled in, barely clearing the quad-rotor as it hits the sheer rock wall of the canyon and explodes.
    Relaxing
    The spaceport lounge is a busy place, with lots of booths and tables, screens on the walls, varied lighting. A dozen passengers from the rescue sit at a long table, talking over drinks and the remains of meals, while Helton and Harbin sit across from each other at the far end.
    “Been a while since I had more action on leave than in the field,” Harbin says. “Felt good to be in a non-contract fight where the only rule was ‘win’.”
    “Too bad about your getting shot, though,” says Helton. “The leg seems to be healing nicely. No noticeable limp.”
    “Shouldn’t be. The Boss and the Wife both frown on getting damaged outside the line of duty. On duty as well.”
    “I’m sure they’d cut you some slack, given the situation.”
    Harbin grunts disagreement. “Part of my job is to teach people how to not be careless and die from stupid. I wasn’t careful enough when I boarded the tramp ship and let myself be gassed and dropped in the desert. That would be unforgivable if we hadn’t managed to get ourselves out of it.”
    “Your boss must be a serious hard-ass.”
    Harbin shrugs. “He’s among the best, but he doesn’t suffer fools or stupid mistakes lightly. Working for him is tough. Fighting against him is tougher.”
    “Next time we’ll just have to take a ship with better armor.”
    “Hard to find. Most ships don’t have it. Generally it’s