Jupiter's Halo Book Two: The Fall

Chapter 33

Dalton’s head rang with an ululating tone. Bile rose into his throat. He tried to focus, but everything seemed to swim before his eyes.

He’d shut them on instinct as he’d turned to shelter the doctors. Still, he’d seen the flash through his lids. His actions were driven by the implant deciding his life was of less import than those of his targets.

His vision blurred as he blinked to clear his eyes, the images zig-zagging crazily from side to side like a badly tuned wavecast. Moans and the sound of vomiting reached his abused ears, but he couldn’t place who they came from.

A dis-gen. Hornwood had used a bloody disorientation grenade on them! Even with the protection of his back turned from the blast Dalton knew he would see after images for days.

Blist was down, Diagno too. Elba was standing, barely. He realised dimly he was only as far up as his knees. He heard a voice shout. Blist maybe, or possibly Elba. The words were distorted, their pitch and tone too unfamiliar to place with either woman. His head came around in a lazy arc, despite his best attempts to turn quickly.

Hornwood was dancing up the corridor. Or running. It was hard to tell. He was coming though and his movements seemed lightning fast where Dalton’s were so painfully slow. He reached Diagno, dropping to deliver a blow to the man’s head as he tried to rise. It connected with a sickening crunch, sending him face down to the cold floor.

Elba was next. She managed to move before Hornwood could reach her, throwing an arm up to protect from his first strike. Dalton tried to rise to her aid but stumbled on legs that felt borrowed, disconnected.

He saw Elba dodge again, this time taking a balled fist to her midsection. She seemed to shrug off the blow or had moved quickly enough to rob it of its power. Her attempt at a return was clumsy and Hornwood evaded her with ease.

“Blist,” his lips felt numb, his tongue moving sluggishly inside his mouth to form the word. “Get up. We have to fight.”

Every word was an effort. Every movement painful in its sudden difficulty. Dalton managed to reach his feet, swaying like a drunkard. He still had his rifle where Elba seemed to have lost hers. He tried to bring the weapon to bear. It was useless. His hands swayed, unable to pin down a target. If he fired now he was as likely to hit Elba as Hornwood. He was as likely to fire straight into the wall or the floor.

Elba took another hit as he moved forward in an attempt to reach her. This time he heard the forced exhale of breath, saw the way her body folded over Hornwood’s fist.

Thoughts moved slowly through his head. This was wrong. All wrong. If Hornwood wanted them dead he'd had the opportunity for four nice, clean kills. Even with training, exposure and their armour, the dis-gen still left them all so close to defenceless it was laughable. Given their state all Hornwood needed to do was lean back around the doorway and pick each one off with well-placed shots. Faith knew he had the skill as a marksman.

There was only one explanation and it fitted the man perfectly: he wanted to do this hand to hand and face to face. He wanted to be in close when each of them died. He wanted to enjoy it. That’s where they had an angle.

"Get up Jin!" He tried to shout but over the ringing, he couldn't tell if it was a bellow or a whisper.

>“Jin, Hornwood wants to make this last.”"He doesn’t just want us dead, he wants to murder us with his hands. I’ll get you some time, but you have to get up!”<

Blist seemed to stir, or maybe she was fighting to get herself up from the floor. Dalton didn’t have time to stay and find out which it was. He needed to get into the fray. If he left it any longer Hornwood would have Elba on her knees. One at a time they were dead. The only chance was to keep his focus off Blist long enough for her to recover and raise a weapon. Hornwood might want things close and personal, but Dalton didn’t care about the method. The man had to die. That was all that mattered now.

“Hornwood!”

He watched as his former teammate looked up, arm raised to deliver a felling blow to Elba’s face. The distraction was enough for her to get a jab in. Hornwood danced back, smiling, though a thin line of blood already traced from his lower lip. Elba had thrown a desperate shot, her waning strength robbing it of any stopping power, but enough to give her space to regroup. Dalton stopped as he came alongside her.

“Why are you doing this?” He slurred, eyes still fuzzy, the walls still spinning around him.

Hornwood’s smile widened and he threw out his arms.

“Why would I touch myself when no one is watching?”

“What?” He felt Elba looking at him, but he wouldn’t take his eyes from Hornwood.

The figure was indistinct, but Dalton could make out his movements; stepping quickly back and forth, light on his feet as if he was dancing on a heated surface.

"Why would I take food from a weak child or love from a weak woman?"

He was mad. Not just usual Hornwood mad, but completely gone. The reference to love was a nasty confirmation of rumours they’d all heard.

“What are you talking about?” Dalton managed.

Hornwood shot forward, his movements sudden and precise to bring him within arms reach of where Dalton and Elba stood trying not to sway off their feet.

“Because I can!”

This close the foamy spit showed at the edges of his mouth. The bright gleam of insanity shone in his eyes. This close no one could look on Hornwood without knowing they faced someone truly beyond all but one form of help.

“That’s the answer, my dear, dreary Dalton!" Spittle sprayed as he spoke. "It might not be clever, it might not be just. But by the lies of Luna, it's fun!”

He saw the blow coming. Too late to evade or properly block, but just enough to deflect the brunt of its force with a raised forearm. Hornwood’s closed fist grazed his helmet, bouncing it against his ear and sent new waves of nausea through his shaking body.

Elba had seen it too and taken the moment of advantage it offered. She dived in at a low angle, wrapping one arm around Hornwood’s chest while she dropped the other to sweep at the back of his knees. It should have been a textbook take-down. Horwood should have crumpled backwards just at the moment her hand applied pressure to his front and dumped him hard onto the top of his spine. Dalton had seen it dozens of times. He’d used it himself. It had always worked. Until now.

Elba was too slow. Hornwood too fast. An opponent who knew exactly how you fought was always harder to surprise. He leaned back as she brought her hand down, letting her add to his momentum and lifted his feet to pivot over, neatly turning a close somersault to land half a metre back. His increased distance left Elba overbalanced and before she had a chance to pull her arm back, he seized it and dragged her forward with a powerful jerk. Elba toppled over, her face meeting the deck chin first, blood spilling from her mouth as the impact hammered it closed.

Dalton tried to jump her prostrate body. He aimed to leap into Hornwood while his defence was compromised. The task was beyond him and his foot caught on Elba’s leg as it left the ground. Dalton fell clumsily, landing half across her, eliciting a sharp bark of pain and anger and a cackling laugh from Hornwood. His vision shot into black and purple as Hornwood’s fist came down hard on his helmet.

Hands took hold of his shoulders, rolling him off Elba and onto his back. Through bleary eyes he saw Hornwood stepping over him, turning as he dropped to come down across Dalton’s chest. That would be it. Given his weakened state and Hornwood’s vicious tastes, a position of power like that would lead to a brutal and quick death.

As Hornwood crouched Dalton tried one last gambit. His left arm was across his chest. Not his strongest, but his actions were too slow to try bringing his right to bear. He saw the grin; dark, glistening with too much saliva and powered by the joyful anticipation of killing. He wouldn’t let that be the last sight of his life.

As Hornwood’s weight touched his abdomen, Dalton’s fingers closed around the hilt of his mem-sword. He didn’t bother trying to drag it from its sheath. The weapon vibrated gently as his thoughts drove it into action, the blade building itself in a flash that tore through its casing and brought it up directly in line with Hornwood’s lowering face.

Dalton saw the expression change as the tip of his sword slid cleanly through the centre of Hornwood’s chin. The angle was too low for a killing blow, but the blade cut deep, travelling up to split his attacker's lips before he jerked back.

The weight lifted as Hornwood rolled off and away from Dalton and his blade. He hoped it had been enough. Surprise and the man’s blinding bloodlust had been his only weapons. Now he was warned, Hornwood wouldn’t make the mistake of getting so close again. Dalton rolled to his side, attempting to get up before the next attack came and knowing he stood little to no chance. He could just make Hornwood out, face a shock of bright blood. Hand rising from his hip. The shape of a pistol taking aim—

A single shot rang through the corridor, its retort almost as loud as the dis-gen explosion had been. Above him, standing still as a statue, Hornwood stared back to where Blist lay, her rifle rested across the back of an unmoving Diagno, a thin coil of smoke rising from the barrel.

“That wasn’t fun,” Hornwood mumbled before his body fell forward to crash lifeless onto the floor.

“It was for me,” Blist replied.

“You couldn’t have managed that a minute ago?” Dalton called out.

Blist gave him a lopsided look and raised a single finger. Then she dropped her rifle and flopped down onto Diagno’s back.

Dalton rolled flat again. His implant was fizzing away with its need to see the scientists safely evacuated. It hurt with its insistence, but right then pretty much every part of him hurt. He decided just this once, it could wait a while.