torg 01 - Storm Knights by Bill Slavicsek, C. J. Tramontana Page B

hesitant to add more, fearing he would say, "Don't go," or she would say, "I don't want to go."
    Mara walked over to the cyberdrive console and inserted her right index finger into the security socket on the console. The implant in her elbow had nearly finished its job of sending coded pulses along the microfilament in her arm and finger, giving the final clearance to the transference system. The final tingle of electricity was leaving her hand when she heard a noise behind her. Without removing her finger from the socket, she turned to see what had caused the noise.
    Dr. Mikkos sat slumped over the keyboard of the main console. Blood from his torn throat spurted over the white keys. Standing next to the dead physicist was one of the creatures that she had spent two years fighting, one of the demons who had come over the maelstrom bridge to wreak havoc upon her world before they were finally beaten back by the technology of Mara's world. A Sim.
    The Sim had cruel features and blue-black skin that shone in the glittering, flashing lights of the main console. His hands were clawed and the left one dripped blood from where it had torn through Mikkos' throat. His right arm was as cybernetically enhanced as Mara's own. The military-issue tunic and slacks looked incongruous on his feral form.
    "Greetings, Dr. Hachi, allow me to introduce myself," the Sim said, bowing from the waist slightly, but never taking his eyes off of Mara. His leering grin revealed yellowed, pointed teeth. Mara looked about her for help, but all of the volunteers were locked in the cybernet and unaware of the happenings in the chamber. She knew that if the Sim had gotten this far, there were no living security guards left behind him.
    She was on her own.
    "My name is Thratchen. And, I'm afraid, I must ask you to move away from that console."
    "Why should I?" asked Mara, stalling for time and hoping to learn something of the Sim's purpose.
    "Ah," smiled Thratchen, "because I would like to find out from you, firsthand, how you discovered our plans of invasion. Dr. Kendal was not very cooperative, if you catch my meaning. He actually was able to shut down his mind before I could glean much more than the location of this facility. Remarkable man, really."
    "Alec?" Mara screamed in panic. "You hurt Alec, too?"
    Thratchen shrugged. "I sorted his mind, my dear. Even if he lives he will be little more than a lump of flesh with no thoughts to speak of. Now, step away from that machine."
    The Sim flexed his claws and moved toward the closest console. He eyed the exposed neck below the thrown back head of the plugged in volunteer.
    "So, you have found an interesting use for stormers," Thratchen chuckled. "We never were able to do all that much with them ourselves."
    With her mind racing, Mara knew she couldn't get to her laser pistol in time to save the volunteer, maybe not even in time to save herself. She had fought these creatures and knew how fast they were in battle. Maybe she could save a world, though. She flexed her elbow and twisted her finger in the security socket. Lights flashed from every screen at every console; printers began chattering, and warning bells chimed. The access hatch on the transference cylinder popped open. For a spilt second, Thratchen's attention was drawn away from her and the volunteer. In that time, Mara leaped into the cylinder and slammed the hatch.
    Thratchen leaped after her, covering the distance to the cylinder in two bounds. He inserted the claws of both hands — one natural, one cybernetic — into the seam surrounding the door. Planting his feet against the side of the cylinder, he strained; the muscles in his back, shoulders, and legs bunched and pushed at the fabric of his clothing. He peeled back the door as if he were peeling the flexible skin off some piece of overripe fruit. But he was too late — the cylinder was empty. Dr. Hachi was gone. Roaring in anger, Thratchen leaped with outstretched claws at the nearest