The Zenda Vendetta (TimeWars 4)

“Stay put, Lucas,”

“Finn? Where are you?”

“In the castle, with Hentzau.”

“With Hentzau? What the hell-”

“What are you doing, play-actor?” Hentzau called out softly, seeing Finn hesitate in the corridor behind him. “Come on!”

“I’m coming,” Finn said. “Just catching my breath.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I can’t talk now, Lucas. The castle is about to be attacked. Stay put. I’ll try to get to those defense systems.”

“Come on, Rassendyll, damn you!” Hanna said. “Stop dawdling!”

This is it, thought Forrester. All the elements had come together and the key moment in temporal continuity had finally arrived. Only where was Falcon?

“In order to deactivate those systems,” Drakov said, “Sergeant Delaney will first have to deactivate me.”

He held up the control unit and Forrester abruptly realized that he had relieved Andre of her comset and was wearing it himself. He had heard every word.

As Hentzau stepped out into the main hall, De Gautet left his position of concealment behind an arras and raised his pistol, aiming it at Hanzau’s back.

“Stand where you are, Rupert!”

Hentzau stopped, then casually turned around. “Well, well,” he said, with unconcern. “What have we here? Dissension in the ranks?”

“Some men do not change sides as easily as you,” said De Gautet. “We feel that our interests would be better served allied with the duke, rather than with your ambitious countess.”

“I see,” said Hentzau. “Well then, if you’re going to shoot me, best be quick about it. There’s a man creeping up behind you.”

De Gautet laughed. “Really, Rupert, if you think-”

Finn seized him. He tried to grab the gun, but it went off, the shot echoing through the hall. As they struggled, Hentzau drew his sabre.

> “Run, play-actor! Take care of the king! Leave this cowardly dog to me!”

Finn shoved De Gautet away from him and the man fell sprawling. Fully expecting Hentzau to run him through, he began to spring across the hall knowing that the shot would have alerted all the others. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw to his amazement that Hentzau had put his foot down upon the pistol and was waiting for De Gautet to get up and draw his sabre.

“What are you doing?” he shouted. “Kill him, for God’s sake!”

“It won’t take but a moment,” Hentzau called over his shoulder as the two men engaged.

Finn pulled out his own pistol aiming at De Gautet, but Hentzau kept moving into his line of fire. “Get out of the damn way!” he yelled.

“You’re wasting time, play-actor!” Hentzatt shouted. Cursing the arrogant young fool, Fern turned and ran headlong down the stairs, crashing into Krafstein, who was running up the stairs with his pistol drawn. They both went down and Finn lost his revolver as they rolled to the bottom of the stairs, onto the first landing. Krafstein flailed at him, but Firm brought his knee up sharply into the man’s groin, then rammed the heel of his palm up into his nose, breaking it and driving the bone splinters deep into the brain. Krafstein went limp and Finn shoved him away, reaching for his laser. He felt a sharp blow just below his left shoulder, beneath the collarbone. He raised his weapon and fired, hitting Detchard squarely in the face. Detchard screamed once, briefly, then fell dead.

Finn glanced down to see the hilt of a dagger protruding from his chest. He felt no pain. Not yet. He wondered if he would ever have the time.

“Stay put, my ass,” said Lucas. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”

He ran down the stairway to the next level, abandoning all caution. It had all come apart. He couldn’t raise Forrester and the attempt to rescue Rudolf was under way. For ail he knew, both Forrester and Andre were already dead. They had all run out of time. If he could only get to a window in the outside wall, he could dive out into the moat. Then, as the castle was assaulted, he could try to take advantage of the confusion to get in the only way that was left open to him: the drawbridge to the portcullis. It would be better to face a hail of bullets from Michael’s mercenaries than to take his chalices with laser beams and needle dart barrages and God only knew what else. He turned a corner and an auto-pulser opened up on him.

He felt a searing pain in his thigh as the blast of plasma grazed him and a wave of incredible heat passed close to his head. He just barely managed to duck back around the corner in time. The stone walls were covered with blue flame. His clothing was smoldering and he smelled cooked meat. His own. The skin on the entire right side of his face felt as though it had ban ripped away. It was roasted, cracked and blistered from the temple all the way down to his jaw. He could not see out of his right eye. He reached up gingerly and felt liquid seeping down his cheek.

The pain was unbearable. He leaned back against the stone wall for support, gasping, slamming his left hand hard into the wall in a desperate effort to focus on some other part of his body, to keep the pain from blotting out everything else. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a warp grenade. They were issued only to the adjustment teams, only one per team, and they were to be used only as a last, desperate resort in case of an emergency. This qualified. Perhaps the review board wouldn’t think-so, assuming that he made it back, but at the moment, he could not careless. All bets were off.

Finn stepped over the body of Detchard and aimed his laser at the lock on the cell door. The knife still protruded from his chat. He did not dare to pull it out. It could be the only thing holding an artery together. He half expected to drop dead at any moment. He reeled and almost fell. He couldn’t seem to make his fingers respond.

Damn, he thought, now it finally gets to me! With a knife stuck in his chest, the reserves of energy he had been functioning on finally gave out and he was on the verge of collapse. His limbs simply were not responding: He felt lice a marionette with its strings cut. He was beginning to disassociate. He had to buy himself more time.