can’t slow down with the Cap’n on their back. I want them to pass us.’ She slammed the Rattletrap the other way. ‘I just don’t want them shooting us first.’
Crake saw her method now. Zigzagging made them a hard target, but it slowed them down. With Malvery blasting away behind them, the enemy would be forced to pass by.
It sounded like a good idea. But the Dakkadians didn’t play along.
Jez had slipped up. Her zigzags were predictable. She twisted the wheel at regular intervals, instead of varying the turns. It allowed their pursuers to guess where she was going next, to skid in that direction, and to open up with everything they had just as the Rattletrap passed in front of their guns.
Time slowed down as Crake realised what was happening. The enemy was attacking from the passenger side. He stared at the rotating muzzle of the gatling gun, knowing there was nothing between him and it. Knowing, with a cold and dreadful certainty, that he was about to feel a salvo of brutal impacts punching into his body, and after that there would be nothing more.
But suddenly the gatling gun was gone, a wall of metal in the way. Bess. Hanging on to the roll cage with one hand, she lunged across the side of the buggy, making a barrier of her body between Crake and the guns. Bullets sparked and whined as they bounced off her humped back, chipping the metal, ripping through her chainmailed joints to ping around the empty interior of the suit.
The shift in weight tipped the Rattletrap to one side. Two of its wheels lifted off the ground and Crake felt the vehicle about to flip. Jez threw it into a skid, trying to avert disaster, but it was no good. Crake braced himself—
—and then Bess let go.
She tumbled away from the Rattletrap in a crashing ball of metal. The Rattletrap slammed back down onto four wheels, sliding across the scrubland until it came to a jolting halt. Crake was shaken half out of his wits, but he clambered from his seat as soon as the buggy had fully stopped. He staggered dizzily to the ground, looking about. The thought that Bess might have been hurt – grievously hurt – made him frantic.
‘Bess! Bess!’
But Bess wasn’t hurt. Bess was angry. She’d already found her feet, rising from the red dust like some mythical desert beast. And as he watched, she began to run, gathering momentum with every step. The Dakkadian Rattletrap was bearing down on them, seeking to finish them off.
Bess charged it.
It all happened in a second. The Rattletrap was moving so fast that the driver didn’t have time to see the golem coming. Bess ran at them from the side, ramming into them with her shoulder. Perhaps she’d meant to catch them square, but her timing was off, and she only caught one of the back wheels. It didn’t matter. At that speed even a small shove was enough.
Bess rebounded from the impact and went down in a heap. The Rattletrap slewed sideways and launched into the air, spinning and flipping crazily before it smashed into the earth. It bounced and rolled for another fifty metres until it finally came to a stop. By that time, it was scarcely recognisable as a vehicle, and its occupants had been flung brokenly away, strewn motionless along its path.
Frey pulled up alongside Jez. ‘Everyone okay?’ he asked.
‘Just about, Cap’n,’ said Jez, looking Crake over. Crake was leaning against the side of the buggy, breathing steadily, trying to keep his treacherous bowels under control.
Frey nodded and then Silo sped them away. By the time Crake regained himself, the train had passed, rolling away into the distance. Bess seemed none the worse for her experience, though she was still grumpy. She stomped over with an unmistakably apelike slope to her shoulders that said she was ready to tear off someone’s limbs.
Jez was watching the departing train. Her eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said, suddenly. ‘Bess, get on.’
Bess seemed to understand her, for she bounded on to the
Crake saw her method now. Zigzagging made them a hard target, but it slowed them down. With Malvery blasting away behind them, the enemy would be forced to pass by.
It sounded like a good idea. But the Dakkadians didn’t play along.
Jez had slipped up. Her zigzags were predictable. She twisted the wheel at regular intervals, instead of varying the turns. It allowed their pursuers to guess where she was going next, to skid in that direction, and to open up with everything they had just as the Rattletrap passed in front of their guns.
Time slowed down as Crake realised what was happening. The enemy was attacking from the passenger side. He stared at the rotating muzzle of the gatling gun, knowing there was nothing between him and it. Knowing, with a cold and dreadful certainty, that he was about to feel a salvo of brutal impacts punching into his body, and after that there would be nothing more.
But suddenly the gatling gun was gone, a wall of metal in the way. Bess. Hanging on to the roll cage with one hand, she lunged across the side of the buggy, making a barrier of her body between Crake and the guns. Bullets sparked and whined as they bounced off her humped back, chipping the metal, ripping through her chainmailed joints to ping around the empty interior of the suit.
The shift in weight tipped the Rattletrap to one side. Two of its wheels lifted off the ground and Crake felt the vehicle about to flip. Jez threw it into a skid, trying to avert disaster, but it was no good. Crake braced himself—
—and then Bess let go.
She tumbled away from the Rattletrap in a crashing ball of metal. The Rattletrap slammed back down onto four wheels, sliding across the scrubland until it came to a jolting halt. Crake was shaken half out of his wits, but he clambered from his seat as soon as the buggy had fully stopped. He staggered dizzily to the ground, looking about. The thought that Bess might have been hurt – grievously hurt – made him frantic.
‘Bess! Bess!’
But Bess wasn’t hurt. Bess was angry. She’d already found her feet, rising from the red dust like some mythical desert beast. And as he watched, she began to run, gathering momentum with every step. The Dakkadian Rattletrap was bearing down on them, seeking to finish them off.
Bess charged it.
It all happened in a second. The Rattletrap was moving so fast that the driver didn’t have time to see the golem coming. Bess ran at them from the side, ramming into them with her shoulder. Perhaps she’d meant to catch them square, but her timing was off, and she only caught one of the back wheels. It didn’t matter. At that speed even a small shove was enough.
Bess rebounded from the impact and went down in a heap. The Rattletrap slewed sideways and launched into the air, spinning and flipping crazily before it smashed into the earth. It bounced and rolled for another fifty metres until it finally came to a stop. By that time, it was scarcely recognisable as a vehicle, and its occupants had been flung brokenly away, strewn motionless along its path.
Frey pulled up alongside Jez. ‘Everyone okay?’ he asked.
‘Just about, Cap’n,’ said Jez, looking Crake over. Crake was leaning against the side of the buggy, breathing steadily, trying to keep his treacherous bowels under control.
Frey nodded and then Silo sped them away. By the time Crake regained himself, the train had passed, rolling away into the distance. Bess seemed none the worse for her experience, though she was still grumpy. She stomped over with an unmistakably apelike slope to her shoulders that said she was ready to tear off someone’s limbs.
Jez was watching the departing train. Her eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said, suddenly. ‘Bess, get on.’
Bess seemed to understand her, for she bounded on to the
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