Read Online Blood Relative by James Swallow - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Swallow
Tags: Science-Fiction
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the background.
"Copy that." The noise came again over the open channel, strident and very close. "You got trouble?"
"Nothing we can't handle. Be ready." The GI's voice cut off sharply.
"Okay," Ferris said to the empty cockpit. "Point of no return, then. Do I fly blue-boy and his talkative gear outta here, or do I cut and run?" His hand hovered over the thruster controls as he turned over the choice in his mind.
Thick anti-vehicle rounds spattered off the surface of the flooded street and rocked the macro-raft from side to side. Rogue coiled a length of pull-cord around one fist and used it to keep himself steady as he fired Gunnar with his other hand, sending arcs of las-fire into the air. His target jinked easily, the beams cutting through empty air. The Nort hopper had come out of nowhere, emerging from behind the top of a housing block like a huge and irate hornet. It ducked and wove along the canyon of the city street, null-grav engines humming with raw power. There were clusters of armour-piercing rockets in fat drums on the hopper's stubby winglets, but the flyer's crew hadn't opted to use them just yet - at such close quarters in the tight confines of the city proper, a miss might strike a derelict tower and send a whole decrepit neighbourhood tumbling down.
The Nort pilot, his hooded face visible though the armourglas cockpit canopy, was hunched forward, urging his ship on after the fleeing dart of the raft. Rogue couldn't see the gunnery crew sequestered behind the pilot's chair, but he knew the model of hopper and guessed where they would be sitting. Even now, they were probably looking right at him through the scopes of the flyer's twin chatterguns, squeezing out bolts of depleted uranium ammo. The AV shells were overkill where the inflatable raft was concerned - one solid hit and the memory-plastic would be ripped to shreds - but subtlety had never been a hallmark of either side in the Nu Earth conflict.
The boat rose out of the water and slapped back down hard as it rode over a couple of floating corpses. For a second, the GI lost his grip on the steering cord and the raft listed dangerously to port, threatening to tip the passengers into the flood.
"Damn it, Rogue!" snapped Helm. "Steer or shoot, you can't do both!"
"Son of a tube!" Zero cursed, working the slide of his stolen enemy rifle. "I got a breech jam... Nort piece of scrap!"
The hopper pilot flared his ailerons and used the down-wash from his engines to batter the boat, trying to force a capsize. Rogue fired again and missed again.
Zero tossed the Nort rifle aside and held out a hand. "Gunnar! Give him to me!" When Rogue hesitated, he shouted over the whine of the jets. "I can swat this fly, brother! Come on!"
"Do it, Rogue!" Gunnar added. "No choice."
"Here!" Rogue flipped the GI rifle over in his grip and shoved it at Zero.
The other infantryman eagerly accepted it and the gun sank into his grip like it was one well-oiled component fitting into another.
"You want a Sammy?" Bagman called.
Zero shook his head. "I got this. Gunnar, give me thermo." The sniper raised the rifle to his cheek just as the hopper unleashed another punishing salvo of rounds.
Rogue rocked the raft from side to side, steering the thing with his body movements. Fragments of shot nicked his bare skin like dull needles.
The hopper loomed large in Gunnar's scope, moving wildly with the shock from the shots and the rise and fall of the floodwater. Zero took a breath, released half and held the rest. He fired.
Nort Komet-class hoppers used a forward-looking infrared scope mounted in the nose, but the lens that protected it was a notorious weak point. Zero's kill was impeccably placed, piercing the scope's housing and cutting up through the cockpit dashboard to strike the sternum of the pilot. The las-round blew most of his lungs out the back of his chem-suit and the Nort slumped forward on his flight yoke. The hopper veered away wildly and collided with a low
"Copy that." The noise came again over the open channel, strident and very close. "You got trouble?"
"Nothing we can't handle. Be ready." The GI's voice cut off sharply.
"Okay," Ferris said to the empty cockpit. "Point of no return, then. Do I fly blue-boy and his talkative gear outta here, or do I cut and run?" His hand hovered over the thruster controls as he turned over the choice in his mind.
Thick anti-vehicle rounds spattered off the surface of the flooded street and rocked the macro-raft from side to side. Rogue coiled a length of pull-cord around one fist and used it to keep himself steady as he fired Gunnar with his other hand, sending arcs of las-fire into the air. His target jinked easily, the beams cutting through empty air. The Nort hopper had come out of nowhere, emerging from behind the top of a housing block like a huge and irate hornet. It ducked and wove along the canyon of the city street, null-grav engines humming with raw power. There were clusters of armour-piercing rockets in fat drums on the hopper's stubby winglets, but the flyer's crew hadn't opted to use them just yet - at such close quarters in the tight confines of the city proper, a miss might strike a derelict tower and send a whole decrepit neighbourhood tumbling down.
The Nort pilot, his hooded face visible though the armourglas cockpit canopy, was hunched forward, urging his ship on after the fleeing dart of the raft. Rogue couldn't see the gunnery crew sequestered behind the pilot's chair, but he knew the model of hopper and guessed where they would be sitting. Even now, they were probably looking right at him through the scopes of the flyer's twin chatterguns, squeezing out bolts of depleted uranium ammo. The AV shells were overkill where the inflatable raft was concerned - one solid hit and the memory-plastic would be ripped to shreds - but subtlety had never been a hallmark of either side in the Nu Earth conflict.
The boat rose out of the water and slapped back down hard as it rode over a couple of floating corpses. For a second, the GI lost his grip on the steering cord and the raft listed dangerously to port, threatening to tip the passengers into the flood.
"Damn it, Rogue!" snapped Helm. "Steer or shoot, you can't do both!"
"Son of a tube!" Zero cursed, working the slide of his stolen enemy rifle. "I got a breech jam... Nort piece of scrap!"
The hopper pilot flared his ailerons and used the down-wash from his engines to batter the boat, trying to force a capsize. Rogue fired again and missed again.
Zero tossed the Nort rifle aside and held out a hand. "Gunnar! Give him to me!" When Rogue hesitated, he shouted over the whine of the jets. "I can swat this fly, brother! Come on!"
"Do it, Rogue!" Gunnar added. "No choice."
"Here!" Rogue flipped the GI rifle over in his grip and shoved it at Zero.
The other infantryman eagerly accepted it and the gun sank into his grip like it was one well-oiled component fitting into another.
"You want a Sammy?" Bagman called.
Zero shook his head. "I got this. Gunnar, give me thermo." The sniper raised the rifle to his cheek just as the hopper unleashed another punishing salvo of rounds.
Rogue rocked the raft from side to side, steering the thing with his body movements. Fragments of shot nicked his bare skin like dull needles.
The hopper loomed large in Gunnar's scope, moving wildly with the shock from the shots and the rise and fall of the floodwater. Zero took a breath, released half and held the rest. He fired.
Nort Komet-class hoppers used a forward-looking infrared scope mounted in the nose, but the lens that protected it was a notorious weak point. Zero's kill was impeccably placed, piercing the scope's housing and cutting up through the cockpit dashboard to strike the sternum of the pilot. The las-round blew most of his lungs out the back of his chem-suit and the Nort slumped forward on his flight yoke. The hopper veered away wildly and collided with a low
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