“Fight me, damn it!” she snarled under her breath.

“What?” he said.

“Fight me for real, or we’re both dead,” she said.

“With pleasure,” Letho replied.

Thresha swung her knife down, intending to sink it into Letho’s breast. Letho grabbed her wrist and squeezed, and her bones snapped as though they were kindling.

Thresha screamed and slammed the other knife into Letho’s side repeatedly, spattering both of them with his blood. Still holding her wrist, Letho slammed his clawed fist into her jaw, rocking her head back so hard and fast, it was a wonder that her neck didn’t snap.

What the hell am I doing?

Things were getting hazy. Letho’s body had already taken a lot of punishment. Blood was spurting from gory fountains in his side, spurting in time with his thumping heartbeat. The wounds were closing, he thought, but slowly, and he was still a little hazy from the headshot he had suffered earlier.

If anything good came out of this sordid mission, it would be that. He knew he could survive a headshot. As long as it was one that didn’t blast his head to pieces, he presumed.

He staggered back, and through his rapidly diminishing sight he could see that Thresha was falling, blood streaming from her mouth and nose. He heard shouting, more gunfire, and then the sound of the hoverbikes roaring to life. A firm hand grabbed him and threw him on the back of one the bikes, and then chilling wind was blowing through his hair, drowning out all other sound with its white-noise roar. The bracing cold air brought him around a little, and he saw that the bleeding from the stab wounds had stopped.

“Hey, you awake back there?” Saul shouted.

“Yeah, for the most part,” he shouted back.

“Think you can take care of those Mendraga on our tail?” Saul said, passing back a rifle.

Letho took the rifle and raised his head to see where he was. To his left, Deacon was riding his own hoverbike, occasionally turning to fire behind himself. Behind them were about ten pursuers, not far back and closing fast.

Letho brought the rifle to bear and gazed down the sights. He longed for Saladin’s assistance; the sword’s targeting function would have come in handy.

You’re getting spoiled, Letho. Just aim and fire.

Letho fired his first shot and hit a Mendraga pilot in the hand, transforming it into a red cloud and causing the Mendraga to lose control of his bike. It plowed into another hoverbike, which in turn plowed into another, and the three of them crashed into the hardtop, sending the riders hurtling through the air and the bikes themselves spinning and shattering, casting parts and shrapnel in all directions.

“Nice shooting!” Saul shouted.

Letho ignored him as he lined up his next target. This time he hit his mark where he intended to, and the newly headless rider slumped in his seat while his bike crashed into a concrete pillar. Deacon fired a few more shots, and managed to take out one of the riders as well.

It was enough. The remaining Mendraga turned and headed back toward Hastrom City, choosing to face the possibility of death at the hands of Abraxas over the certain death they would face if they continued to pursue Letho Ferron.

****

“Where’s Bayorn?” Letho shouted.

“He’s with the Tarsi and the hammerheads,” Saul said. Letho shoved him in the shoulder with just enough force to cause him to stagger a bit.

“You left him? Why the hell would you do that?”Saul took two steps toward Letho and shoved him hard in the chest with both hands. Letho staggered back, and then was back in Saul’s face.

“Hey guys, cut it out,” Deacon shouted, trying to separate the two, but Saul pushed him back.

“He wanted to stay! I tried to get him to come with me, but he wouldn’t. He said you’d understand. So why don’t you crawl out of my ass, get over yourself, and help me ditch these bikes? They’ll be sending patrols out any minute now, and we need to be long gone like ten minutes ago.”

Letho hated to admit it, but Saul had a point. He took a deep breath. “You’re right,” he said, “I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

They rid themselves of the hoverbikes by tossing them into a ravine, and then they began the short hike back to the razorback. It was just as they had left it, save for a set of dragging tracks made by misshapen feet. Muties had been here, and Letho and company were just glad that the beasts hadn’t stayed.

Saul, Letho, and Deacon piled into the razorback and began the trek back to Haven—without Bayorn.

The ride back was a quiet one, for each man had a lot on his mind.

THIRTEEN - Aftermath

Patrol ships came after them, just as Saul had said they would. Ships like the ones that Letho had seen on the raid, the day that Thresha left. But by that time the razorback was well beyond the reach of their searchlights and scanning mechanisms, already approaching Haven.

“Let’s go in the front entrance,” Saul said, grinning.

“Come on Saul, I’m not really up for it,” Letho pleaded. He was still a little weak from the injuries he had sustained, and his mind was occupied with thoughts of Bayorn. The Tarsi was risking everything.

“What’s the front entrance?” Deacon asked.

“Oh, right,” Saul said. “You were a little out of sorts the last time we went in the front door. Just hold on to your shoneys.”

“What are my shoneys?”

The razorback lurched forward into the darkness, Saul laughing like a madman, until free fall took their stomachs and turned them inside out. Deacon screamed. Then the wheels of the razorback landed on the suspended catwalk, and Saul slammed on the emergency brake, locking the metal beast in place and shoving the three men forward into their harnesses. The metal teeth at the mouth of the silo began to grind shut, raining down rust and dust, cutting of their view of the night sky like closing eyelids.

“That was awesome!” Deacon said as they unbuckled their harnesses. Saul cut Letho a look, his eyebrows raised.

See? the look said.

The halogen lamps snapped on and Tiny gave them a wave before moving the platform closer to the entry catwalk. Zedock greeted them at the entry hatch to Haven.

Letho was overcome by a great sense of deja vu as he stepped onto the platform. Though the scene was the same, there were players missing. Thresha was with Alastor; Bayorn had gone to be with the Tarsi imprisoned in Hastrom City. Letho only hoped that both of them knew what they were doing.

Zedock wrapped both Saul and Letho in an embrace, then looked them over and saw the multiple puncture wounds in Letho’s side and the many bullet holes in his suit.

“Son, you’ve been through the wringer. What the hell happened, and where’s Bayorn?”

“Letho interrupted a church service in one of Abraxas’s temples, and things got a little hairy,” Deacon said.

“So they’re worshipping him now,” Zedock said, his head drooping, eyes darting side to side as he stared at nothing, parsing the new information. “Things are getting bad. I may have waited too long.”

Maka came barreling through the door, his ungainly footfalls like hammer strikes on the catwalk. He embraced Letho and let his joy be known through Tarsi song. But it was short-lived.

“Where is Bayorn?” Maka asked.

“He stayed behind,” Saul stammered, obviously intimidated by the leer on Maka’s face. “We met a hammerhead, a smart one. Bayorn asked him to take him to the Tarsi encampment. I tried to talk him out of it, but that’s when the shit hit the fan with Letho, and I had to make a choice.”

Maka nodded. “I understand. Bayorn is a damn fool. I should be with him. We should be uniting the Tarsi together!”

“Don’t worry, Maka,” Letho said. “You’ll get a chance to see him soon enough. We’re going back.”