protest.
Back at the recharge cradle, at Sam’s command, Foyle withdrew its lance and stabbed again. This time the lance gouged a deep crease upon the warjack’s chromed chassis, but the point did not penetrate far enough to stun the machine. Yet even as the wounded warjack raised its partially reconnected gripping arm to strike, Gully lopped it off with a single stroke.
Even armless, the heavy warjack struggled against the big lugs. “Beat it down!” Sam told them. They slammed the foe with their shields. Armless, it could do little more than twist and whir in impotent desperation.
“Wait!” called Sam. When the war machines paused, she thrust her stun blade up into the enemy warjack’s abdomen. Like a smaller version of Foyle’s lance, her sword crackled with cortex-stunning lightning. The dismembered warjack shuddered, its legs twitching in an involuntary lightning dance. As if in sympathy, lightning exploded just above the hill, the crash of thunder striking simultaneously with the flash. “All right, Dogs! Take it down!”
All three units converged on the warjack as Sam ordered the big lugs, “Out!”
Once they got in close with their pick axes, the Dogs knew instinctively where to strike, smashing exposed cogs and denting power trains beyond functionality. They continued until the blue lenses of the warjack flickered and Sam shouted, “That’s enough. Now, hold it steady!”
“Are you sure, Sam?” said Lister.
“I know what I’m doing. Just hold it down.”
As the Dogs pinned the warjack’s remaining limbs, Sam plunged her blade deep into the chassis. At her nod, Lister moved over and peeled away the metal with his pick-axe. After a peek inside, Sam stabbed again, widening the wound. She did it three more times, until Lister pried back the metal to reveal the glowing blue cortex.
With a few more strokes of her blade, Sam severed the connections. The warjack’s last lights faded, and its limbs slumped with a pitiful whirring sound. She pulled out her trophy.
“Now this should give the Old Man something to study. Get the rest of this thing loaded on the wagon, along with the others.”
It took Smooth and the drivers a few minutes to arrive, so swiftly had the assault succeeded. Once they had the wagon turned around, Sam directed Gully and Foyle to tip the body of the enemy warjack into the wagon and shove it onto the iron-reinforced bed. Lister’s unit carried the machine’s severed arm and heaved it over the wagon side to join the body.
“This isn’t as heavy as it looks,” remarked Lister.
“It’s still pretty damned heavy, you ask me,” grunted Burns. “Sir!”
Once the bulk of the work was done, Lister and Burns went back to fetch the felled globes. Sam beckoned to Harrow and together climbed the hill for a look beyond. Somewhere near, the Cygnaran town of Calbeck lay across the river.
The rest of the Dogs secured the heavy warjack for travel and added the smaller constructs to the load. All told, they made for heavier cargo than the wagon was used to hauling, but Crawley grudgingly approved the job.
As they were finishing, Lister climbed the hill to join Sam and Harrow, but they were already running back. “Move it!” said Sam. “Move it fast!”
Lister fell in with Sam and Harrow. “What is it?”
“Warcaster,” said Sam. “This time she’s brought friends.”
The wagon drivers slapped the reins. Smooth let himself fall back into the wagon, turning around to sit with his back against the seat. He held his slug gun at the ready as the rest of the Dogs ran beside the accelerating wagon.
They turned their heads at each new flash of lightning in the coming dawn, sometimes catching the barest glimpse of their pursuers. From the wagon, Smooth pointed upward and said, “Morrow preserve us!”
Seven winged figures soared above the ridge of the hill and descended toward the retreating Devil Dogs.
Those on either flank appeared perfectly identical: in the fleeting radiance of the storm, their bodies gleamed with chrome and brass. Their curvaceous figures were undeniably feminine, yet they were over seven feet tall and every inch metallic, from their immobile faces to the razor-sharp edges of their brass wings. In one hand each held sharp steel blades. In the other, a heavy gauntlet hinted at unrevealed power.
Their leader differed in every detail. Her wings spread three times wider than those of her subordinates, every bladed feather connected by its own powered gear. The elegant lines of her armor were at once sleeker and more elaborate than the others, from the imperial wings of her