Read Online Jinx on a Terran Inheritance by Brian Daley - Free Book Online
Authors: Brian Daley
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pistol's deflector and basket handguard. Then he and the intruder grappled awkwardly for their lives.
A third enemy had arrived, holding a bayoneted rifle at low port, his ammunition, like his buddies, used up in the firefight and skirmishing. He was headed for the whirling tangle of his fellow and Alacrity.
The bayonet looked odd and cruel to Floyt, rather like an upside-down Bowie knife. Floyt had let Seven Wars' head slide from his lap. Having struggled to his feet, he dragged at the Webley while straddling the body of the Severeemish.
The intruder came to high port, whirling on him, ready to attack. The man appeared to make a quick file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (34 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:28
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
calculation, from Floyt's expression and the fact that he hadn't fired to save Alacrity, that the revolver, too, was empty. He advanced.
Floyt raised the revolver in both hands, as he'd seen Alacrity do. The muzzle shook and quavered. An awful, abrupt doubt crossed the intruder's face. Floyt tightened his right index finger in a spasm, tightening his other fingers as well, thrusting the Webley at the other.
The revolver leaped and roared, shooting smoke and a tongue of flame, making Floyt shut his eyes involuntarily. Both Alacrity and his enemy, locked in their struggle, ignored it.
As for Floyt, he saw in shock that he'd missed clean. At perhaps five paces. It was no less of a surprise to his target.
Misfire? It seemed impossible. With the pistol leaping in his convulsing grip, he yanked off another round, and two more after it, flinching, wincing his eyes shut each time. The recoil wasn't overwhelming, but it was something he had never dealt with before; the reports were unnervingly loud.
The burnt propellant had a sharp smell.
The intruder stood unscathed. Worse, he dropped into guard and advanced. Floyt tried to back up, but his heels came up against Seven Wars. For some reason that reminded him of the Severeemish looking at the Webley earlier, and Floyt recalled that the pistol was a double-action design.
Tongue in the corner of his mouth, sweat running down his face, Floyt carefully kept his finger off the trigger while he put both thumbs on the hammer spur and cocked it. Only the one round was left.
His enemy came with a stamping assault, to open Floyt longitudinally. With great and delicate care, Floyt steadied the gun and squeezed the trigger. Smoke and flame and metal spat from the barrel.
The intruder howled and dropped his rifle, staggering backward trying to stop the blood from spurring from the entry wound at the base of his neck.
The man regained his balance for a second, then pitched forward on his face, blood spurting from entry and exit wounds to drip through the perforations in the catwalk decking. Floyt had no time to gape; Alacrity, forearm bleeding where the axe blade had caught it, was still locked in a frantic struggle with the remaining intruder. They were rolling back and forth on the console, the intruder was getting the upper hand, levering the shaft of his weapon across Alacrity's throat; Alacrity's face had gone dark. He was carrying the fight with his left hand now, while his right shifted its grip on the Captain's Sidearm.
Floyt took an uncertain step toward them; reloading would take too long, and they were far too close together. The intruder's head and neck were well protected by his battle helmet; Floyt tried to decide where best to strike the man with the Webley.
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (35 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:28
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
But Alacrity did something to his pistol; a long, gleaming blade snapped from concealment in the deflector rib on the Captain's Sidearm.
Alacrity jammed the pistol bayonet into his enemy's side. The man made a sound halfway between
A third enemy had arrived, holding a bayoneted rifle at low port, his ammunition, like his buddies, used up in the firefight and skirmishing. He was headed for the whirling tangle of his fellow and Alacrity.
The bayonet looked odd and cruel to Floyt, rather like an upside-down Bowie knife. Floyt had let Seven Wars' head slide from his lap. Having struggled to his feet, he dragged at the Webley while straddling the body of the Severeemish.
The intruder came to high port, whirling on him, ready to attack. The man appeared to make a quick file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (34 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:28
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
calculation, from Floyt's expression and the fact that he hadn't fired to save Alacrity, that the revolver, too, was empty. He advanced.
Floyt raised the revolver in both hands, as he'd seen Alacrity do. The muzzle shook and quavered. An awful, abrupt doubt crossed the intruder's face. Floyt tightened his right index finger in a spasm, tightening his other fingers as well, thrusting the Webley at the other.
The revolver leaped and roared, shooting smoke and a tongue of flame, making Floyt shut his eyes involuntarily. Both Alacrity and his enemy, locked in their struggle, ignored it.
As for Floyt, he saw in shock that he'd missed clean. At perhaps five paces. It was no less of a surprise to his target.
Misfire? It seemed impossible. With the pistol leaping in his convulsing grip, he yanked off another round, and two more after it, flinching, wincing his eyes shut each time. The recoil wasn't overwhelming, but it was something he had never dealt with before; the reports were unnervingly loud.
The burnt propellant had a sharp smell.
The intruder stood unscathed. Worse, he dropped into guard and advanced. Floyt tried to back up, but his heels came up against Seven Wars. For some reason that reminded him of the Severeemish looking at the Webley earlier, and Floyt recalled that the pistol was a double-action design.
Tongue in the corner of his mouth, sweat running down his face, Floyt carefully kept his finger off the trigger while he put both thumbs on the hammer spur and cocked it. Only the one round was left.
His enemy came with a stamping assault, to open Floyt longitudinally. With great and delicate care, Floyt steadied the gun and squeezed the trigger. Smoke and flame and metal spat from the barrel.
The intruder howled and dropped his rifle, staggering backward trying to stop the blood from spurring from the entry wound at the base of his neck.
The man regained his balance for a second, then pitched forward on his face, blood spurting from entry and exit wounds to drip through the perforations in the catwalk decking. Floyt had no time to gape; Alacrity, forearm bleeding where the axe blade had caught it, was still locked in a frantic struggle with the remaining intruder. They were rolling back and forth on the console, the intruder was getting the upper hand, levering the shaft of his weapon across Alacrity's throat; Alacrity's face had gone dark. He was carrying the fight with his left hand now, while his right shifted its grip on the Captain's Sidearm.
Floyt took an uncertain step toward them; reloading would take too long, and they were far too close together. The intruder's head and neck were well protected by his battle helmet; Floyt tried to decide where best to strike the man with the Webley.
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (35 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:28
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
But Alacrity did something to his pistol; a long, gleaming blade snapped from concealment in the deflector rib on the Captain's Sidearm.
Alacrity jammed the pistol bayonet into his enemy's side. The man made a sound halfway between
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