Death Drop by Sean Allen Page B

and crying out in pain as his wicked compatriots scattered for cover behind him.
    The Berzerkers’ thirst for blood had cooled enough for Killikbar to begrudgingly resort to some crude form of strategy to kill the remaining handful of Dissension scum, instead of the frenzied slaughter he was hoping for. He considered sending forth his entire legion of twisted war dogs in a blitzing rush of bullets and corpses, then thought better of it. He assumed that the Dissension machine would not yield to even the great cannons of his giant and there was no telling how much ammunition the device could carry. He had to shield Gyumak from enemy fire long enough to destroy the Dissenters. He howled an order and Gyumak slid steadily, in large heaving jerks, toward a massive chunk of debris.
    Each one of Gyumak’s free tentacles took turns unfurling itself outward in front of his massive form and clinging to the floor before wrenching his body forward. Gyumak moved too slowly for his master’s liking, and Killikbar and his phantoms screamed for him to quicken his pace as they jeered and whipped him crazily. The rest of the Berzerkers concentrated their small arms fire on the side of the contrivance that shielded the Dissenters, pinning them down to ensure their monster could complete his task. The flesh and blood soldiers cowering behind the mechanization were held at bay but the contraption continued to fire. Gyumak wailed and screamed as fresh bullet holes sprayed the inky, black ichor that was his blood into the air. The beast raged and his blood flowed, but he moved steadily forward and slithered his huge tentacles around a chunk of decimated hull. The Dissension machine’s guns were still roaring furiously; then, suddenly, they choked with a hollow click-click-click! The line of beasts covering Gyumak continued to fire at the Dissenters as they laughed cruelly. There was nothing that could stop their Berzerker giant now—the Dissension machine had run out of ammo.
    Gyumak turned so his back was toward the Dissenters and pulled. As he dragged the wreck behind him, it gouged the hard Banzium swirled floor and screeched in protest at being torn from its grave. Gyumak lurched backward, inching to within striking distance of the Dissension soldiers, then he hefted the rubble over his head and turned, shrieking a piercing battle cry.
     
     

Chapter 12: A Plan of Attack
     
    B ertie’s cogs hummed as his power core spun them as fast as the debris-strewn shipyard floor would allow. Malo was directly behind him in a dead sprint, having abandoned any effort to crouch as they tried desperately to reach the only ship not smoldering in a heap of twisted alloy. Otto was still pinning Dr. Blink down in Bertie’s center channel, holding his gun at the ready. One hundred yards went streaking past as Bertie twisted and turned around bodies and piles of rubble. They had not drawn a single shot since Abalias and Graale began their assault on the Berzerkers. The path cleared in front of Bertie’s treads as Otto peeked around the table. Another hundred yards of open space and then the Hellion—then they could turn the ship’s firepower on the remaining Berzerkers and rescue the colonel and Graale.
    It looked like Bertie, Malo, Otto, and Blink would overtake the Hellion with no more challenges; but then a small guerrilla contingent of moaning Berzerkers emerged from beyond the flames of a burning hull and opened fire. Otto pulled Blink flat onto the channel floor, then popped to his feet and blazed away over the rumble of the spinning treads just as Bertie let loose a torrent of bullets. Three sets of gnarling mouths twisted in pain and shrieked out to the void—three bodies convulsed and twitched, carried backward by the impact of projectiles that ripped through their flesh—three corpses lay on the cold floor and now earned the look of the dead they had worn since falling to the Durax.
    Bertie broke into the open with Malo close behind. The