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"Captain!"
Saito came swinging up to Ikawa's side and pointed across the battlefield. In
the melee of the past minutes their formation had finally come apart as the
battle disintegrated into individual duels.
Ikawa had managed to keep Saito and Welsh with him as they weaved back and
forth, dodging blasts and hunting down any enemies who had yet to surrender.
Saito eagerly pointed towards the retreating enemy line.
For a moment Ikawa thought he was dreaming, or seeing a ghost.
"Mokaoto!"
His former animosity for his lieutenant was forgotten, so stunned was be to
see a comrade whom he had thought dead. How he had suddenly appeared in the
midst of this carnage, Ikawa did not even consider.
"Mokaoto." Slowing in his flight, he swung over and headed straight towards
the lieutenant who, strangely, was still dressed in the uniform of Imperial
Japan.
Saito swung in beside his commander crying out for joy. But Welsh, as if
sensing something wrong, pulled up higher and hovered above the other two.
Mokaoto came up towards them, his features set in a mirthless grin.
"Mokaoto," Ikawa cried, slowing to hover in midair, his shield shimmering
down, "never did I dream to see you again."
"Of course not, you traitor to your people," Mokaoto said softly, drawing in
closer.
"What?" Ikawa said, confused by this greeting.
"You embrace the enemy that destroys our homeland," Mokaoto cried. "You are
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not samurai. But I still am!"
He raised his hand, and Ikawa tried to raise his shield in defense. The blast
snapped out at close range, catching Ikawa on the shoulder.
With a cry Ikawa fell backwards. A second blast snapped at Saito who raised
his defensive crystal and struggled to absorb the blow.
"You bastard!"
From the side opposite Mokaoto's shield hand, Welsh dropped, firing a direct
blast. Mokaoto spun, firing wide.
Welsh ducked and fired again. Mokaoto shifted, trying to drop beneath his
opponent, but Welsh was ahead of him and shot again. This firebolt cut into
Mokaoto.
But Welsh was exhausted, still weak from his earlier injuries, and he had
expended all the power he had.
Mokaoto, numbed from Welsh's blows, tried to line up for another shot and then
saw several of the
Americans winging in to give aid. To stay would mean his death.
With a scream of rage he fired blindly, and turning, dove away.
Mark and Walker dove towards the fight.
"It's that Mokaoto bastard," Walker cried, and he set out in pursuit while
Mark cut down to help Saito.
Mokaoto dove into the billowing smoke that now obscured most of the field of
battle. Walker, cursing, chased him and they disappeared from view.
Circling downward, Mark came to land beside Saito.
"How bad is it?" he asked.
Saito looked up at him, eyes wide with fear.
Reaching down, Mark helped him to pull open Ikawa's scorched tunic.
Ikawa's right shoulder was burned, the flesh blackened from neck to upper arm.
"I never did trust him," Ikawa said weakly. "I was just so glad, though, to
see him."
"I wish I had him," Mark said, choking back his fury.
"You know at the moment I wish you had," he said, trying to force a smile.
"You'd have shot first."
"You're damn right."
Ikawa grimaced with pain.
Mark looked at him, panic-stricken.
Don't die, he wanted to scream.
Don't die and leave me now.
A shadow passed over him and he looked up to see Welsh landing beside them,
while several others were coming in from the distance.
"You saved my life, my friend," Ikawa said, looking up at Welsh.
"I should have hit sooner. I knew that bastard was up to no good."
"You did well enough," Saito replied, looking to him and then to Mark. "He
saved my captain's life. I
owe him--I owe all of you whatever I have."
"You would have done the same."
Mark looked around and saw Walker and the rest of the offworlders settling to
land, forming a defensive perimeter around their fallen commander.
Looking back towards the city, Mark saw where Shigeru and Nobuaki stood by
what appeared to be a small wagon.
"Come on," Mark said, "let's pick up those two ground fighters and get Ikawa
back into the city. The battle's finished for us; the reinforcements can take
care of the mopping up."
"There goes one," Welsh suddenly cried, pointing up towards a low flying demon
coming out of the city behind them.
"Let him go," Mark shouted. "They're finished."
But Welsh, the anger of battle still in his soul, soared upward in pursuit,
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cutting back in towards the city to head the demon off.
"Not one," Nobuaki cursed, "not one did I hit. It was always you."
Shigeru chuckled good-naturedly, leaning against the side of the smashed wagon
where they had found to their shock Sarnak's one remaining heavy crystal,
which must have survived the air strikes and been dragged out of the city in
the retreat.
In their mad attack the two had overrun the wagon before the enemy could even
fire the weapon. They had then used it against the packed formations of
Sarnak's troops and demons until the battle had finally swept past them,
leaving the two with the crystal in its wake.
"I cannot help it," Shigeru said, "I cannot fly as well as the others. But
when my feet are on the ground, then I can fight." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]