Severed Ties: Book 10 in the Backyard Starship Series by Chaney J.N. & Maggert Terry

Author:Chaney, J.N. & Maggert, Terry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Variant Publications
Published: 2022-10-16T00:00:00+00:00

Someone—a Nesit—huddled behind a desk. He snapped out a couple of unaimed rounds with a slug pistol, both of which missed.

I cut him in half lengthwise and kept going.

A Sorcerer crouched at the top of the stairs to the next level up, aiming a rifle downward. He fired as I appeared, the slug clacking off my helmet. A second later, he threw something down the stairs—a grenade.

I only remember what happened next in hindsight since it didn’t involve any deliberate, conscious thought on my part. Instead, what abruptly surfaced in my brain was a series of muscle-memory movements that brought an image back to my mind—bright sunshine, freshly cut grass, the shouts of other kids—

A baseball descending from the sky.

I caught the grenade and immediately flung it straight back up at the Sorcerer. I caught a glimpse of utter surprise on his face as it sailed back toward him. The expression, and the face making it, both vanished when the grenade detonated less than a meter before his chest and head.

The concussion walloped me, like I’d run face-first into a wall. Shrapnel peppered my b-suit. A flash of pain seared my right forearm. Another shot through my right thigh, electric sensations of agony. I staggered. Righted myself.

And found, to my surprise, I was still pissed.

The flash left purple spots seared into my vision, which remained clouded. It took me a second or two to realize my visor was cracked, probably by a shrapnel hit. I shook off the shock and pounded up the stairs, The Drop and the Moonsword ready. In seconds, I found myself—

—standing amid ruin. Zeno’s suppressive fire had shredded the upper two floors of the bank, ripping the walls apart into blossoms of torn metal, smashing furniture, shredding documents, and spattering all of it with blood and gore from whoever had been up here. I saw part of a body sprawled across a desk, most of everything below the ribcage simply gone. A fine organic mist hung in the air, the odor sharp and primal.

I stood, blinking. Catching my breath. Turned around, peering through the lingering fumes for any more enemies.

None.

“Van? Van, are you there? Are you okay?”

It was Zeno. “I—yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. This place is clear—shit!”

I turned and pounded back down the stairs, through the ruin of the lower office, out the door, and back into the street. I saw Funboy crouched over Torina. I started toward him.

“Funboy, is she—”

“She’s stable, Van. Now, go and do what we came here to do. I’ll take care of her,” he said, his voice about as animated as if he’d been reading me a grocery list I needed to fill. His odd tone, somehow both singsong and monotone at the same time, stopped me in the middle of the street.

She was in good hands, I knew. The best.

I turned and headed back into the bank, determined to do what we’d come to do, just as Funboy had said.

I could only hope the reward ended up being worth the cost.

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