tz.cobra strike-第38部分

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he　cable　had　been　grounded。　It　was　going　to　be　a　bit　of　a　stretch；　but　he　had　no　choice　but　to　try　it。　The　copper　snake　flew　through　the　air；　draped　itself　across　his　chest　。　。　。　and　Winward　fired　his　arcthrower。
　A　bit　of　a　stretch　indeed；　and　for　a　heart…stopping　fraction　of　a　second　he　watched　the　clean　light　of　the　laser　burning　its　solitary　way　through　the　air　without　any　response　from　the　capacitors　deep　within　his　body　cavity。　Then　the　split　second　was　past；　and　the　ionized　path　reached　the　required　conductance　and　a　lightning　bolt　shattered　the　air。　And　even　as　the　thunderclap　seemed　to　split　open　Winward's　head；　the　sudden　current　flow　overloaded　the　circuit　breakers…
　And　the　room　was　plunged　into　darkness。
　Winward　was　off　the　table　before　the　echoes　had　faded　away；　was　out　through　the　double　doors　a　second　later。　If　the　monitor　camera　hadn't　been　taken　out　with　the　room's　lights；　it　was　almost　guaranteed　that　the　afterimage　of　that　flash　would　mask　the　brief　flicker　of　hall　light　as　the　Cobra　escaped。
　For　a　wonder；　the　hall　was　deserted。　Presumably　the　medical　area　had　no　mand　stations　within　it　and；　hence；　little　traffic　under　normal　conditions。　He　headed　down　the　hall　to　look　for　a　stairway；　and　as　he　did　so；　he　carefully　pried　open　his　eyelids。
　Nothing。　The　Qasaman's　gunshot　had　blinded　him。　Perhaps　beyond　even　Aventine's　surgical　abilities。　The　cold　fury　simmering　within　him　began　to　heat　up　again。　Along　with　York's　arm；　it　was　one　more　score　to　be　settled　with　this　world。
　He　changed　hallways　twice　before　spotting　anyone；　and　when　he　finally　did；　he　hit　the　entire　jackpot　at　once。　Rounding　a　corner；　he　was　just　in　time　to　see　the　elevator　he'd　been　seeking　disgorge　a　half　dozen　Qasamans　barely　ten　meters　away　from　him。　One　of　them　was　the　man　who'd　shot　him。
　The　whole　group　froze　in　shock；　and　even　the　limited　quality　of　his　enhancer　image　gave　Winward　the　grim　satisfaction　of　watching　sheer　unbelieving　terror　flood　into　his　former　assailant's　face。　Three　seconds　they　all　stood　there；　four　seconds；　five…and；　abruptly；　they　all　went　madly　for　their　weapons。
　Winward　pirouetted　on　his　right　foot　and　cut　a　blaze　of　death　across　them　with　his　antiarmor　laser。
　The　mojos　escaped　that　first　shot；　but　even　as　they　swept　toward　him　in　impotent　rage　his　fingertip　lasers　shot　them　to　the　floor。　Winward　didn't　waste　a　backward　glance　as　he　jumped　over　the　charred　bodies　and　between　the　closing　elevator　doors。　The　selector　panel　gave　him　momentary　pause…there　were　at　least　three　times　as　many　buttons　as　the　tower　ought　to　need。　But　he　knew　where　he　needed　to　go。　Pushing　the　top　button；　he　listened　to　the　faint　hum　of　the　elevator's　motor　and　prepared　himself　for　bat。
　The　door　opened；　and　he　stepped　out　into　a　dimly…lit　room　to　face　a　dozen　drawn　pistols。
　They　barked　as　one　。。。　but　Winward　was　no　longer　in　the　line　of　fire。　Leg　servos　snapped　him　upwards；　flipped　him　over　in　time　to　hit　the　ceiling　feet　first；　crashing　shin…deep　through　the　tiles　there　to　bounce　off　the　stronger　ceiling　above；　pushed　him　back　toward　the　floor　behind　the　line　of　gunmen；　again　flipping　him　over　in　midflight。　He　hit　the　floor　with　fingertip　lasers　blazing　。。。　and　it　was　doubtful　that　any　of　the　Qasamans　realized　what　had　happened　before　they　died。
　Again　the　mojos　outlived　their　masters；　and　again　Win　ward　made　that　escape　momentary。　But　this　time　one　of　them　got　through　before　dying；　its　talons　opening　up　a　ten…centimeter　gash　in　his　left　arm。
　〃Damn　it　all；〃　Winward　snarled　aloud；　tearing　off　the　bloody　tunic　sleeve　and　wrapping　it　awkwardly　around　the　wound。　The　ambush　meant　the　alarm　had　gone　out；　though　he　hadn't　heard　any　sirens　。。　。　and　as　he　focused　for　the　first　time　on　the　room　around　him；　he　realized　why　they　hadn't　needed　any　such　warning。
　Ringing　the　room　at　eye　level　were　large　windows…　presumably　one…way　since　he　hadn't　noticed　any　windows　this　high　from　the　outside…through　which　he　could　see　the　Dewdrop　lying　so　painfully　vulnerable　out　on　the　darkened　landing　field。　Below　the　windows　was　a　ring　of　monitor　displays。
　So　he'd　found　the　situation　room；　or　at　least　an　auxiliary　one。　On　some　of　the　displays　armed　men　were　rushing　about　madly；　and　Winward　stepped　back　to　the　elevator　doors　to　listen。　The　car　was　on　its　way　up…filled；　no　doubt；　with　suicidal　soldiers。　Looking　around　the　room；　he　found　the　three　monitor　cameras　and　put　laser　bolts　into　each。　Blinder　now　than　he　was；　they'd　just　have　to　guess　what　he　was　up　to　。。。　and　while　they　sweated　that　one；　he　had　a　couple　more　surprises　in　store　for　them。
　Moving　to　the　side　away　from　the　Dewdrop；　he　put　his　face　to　the　windows　there　and　looked　down。　He　hadn't　had　much　of　a　look　out　back　before　he　was　shot；　but　he'd　seen　something　。　。　。　and；　sure　enough；　from　above　he　could　pick　out　the　heavy　guns　waiting　in　the　tower's　shadow。　Ready　to　be　pushed　from　cover　and　throw　explosives　at　the　ship　。。。　but　only　if　there　was　someone　there　to　do　the　pushing。
　The　nearest　monitor　cabinet　displayed　duplicates　of　a　dozen　other　screens　around　the　room；　as　if　it　was　the　feeder　nexus　for　another　monitor　station　elsewhere　in　the　building。　Winward　sent　an　arcthrower　charge　into　the　mechanism　to　trip　out　any　power　lines；　then；　gripping　it　firmly；　he　pulled　it　out　of　its　wall　fastenings　and　raised　it　to　a　precarious　balance　over　his　head。　The　glass…or　whatever…of　the　window　was　tough：　it　took　nearly　fifteen　seconds　of　the　Cobra's　sonic　disrupter。　Winward　wondered　what　those　below　would　make　of　the　sudden　rain　of　glass　as　he　stepped　to　the　opening　and　hurled　the　cabinet　at　one　of　the　guns　with　all　the　accuracy　and　strength　his　Cobra　gear　could　give　him。
　The　startled　yelps　began　the　instant　before　the　cabinet　smashed　into　the　gun　crew；　and；　simultaneously；　the　elevator　doors　across　the　room　slid　open。　But　Winward　didn't　stay　to　count　the　reinforcements。　Stepping　into　the　shattered　window　frame；　he　turned　and　jumped　in　a　single　motion。　His　hands　grabbed　the　window's　upper　edge　as　he　flew　past　it；　changing　his　direction　and　angular　velocity　just　enough　to　pinwheel　him　neatly　onto　the　tower　roof。
　And　right　into　the　middle　of　a　small　crowd　who'd　apparently　rushed　over　to　investigate　the　motion　below。
　Winward　didn't　bother　with　lasers　or　sonics　for　this　group；　and　they　still　didn't　have　a　chance。　Swinging　his　arms　like　a　servo…powered　threshing　machine；　he　hurled　them　in　all　directions；　bleeding　or　stunned。　The　mojos　were　a　different　story；　but　he　was　getting　used　to　their　arch…winged　attack；　and　took　a　perverse　pleasure　in　burning　them　out　of　the　air。　。　And　that　flicker　of　overconfidence　nearly　killed　him　。。。　because　four　of　the　Qasaman　contingent　had　stayed　by　their　weapons　across　the　roof；　and　as　Winward　looked　up　from　his　latest　carnage；　he　found　their　four　mojos　arrowing　in　bare　meters　away。
　His　puterized　reflexes　saved　him　in　that　first　instant；　recognizing　the　projectile　threat　and　hurling　him　down　and　to　the　side　in　a　flat　dive　and　roll。　It　was　a　maneuver　he'd　experienced　innumerable　times　while　fighting　spine　leopards　。。。　but　neither　spine　leopards　nor　the　antipersonnel　missiles　the　system　had　been　designed　for　had　the　mojos〃　hairpin　maneuverability。　Winward　had　barely　rolled　back　to　his　feet　when　the　first　two　birds　reached　him　。。。　and　this　time　they　got　through　his　defenses。
　He　gasped　with　shock　and　pain　as　talons　dug　deep　into　his　left　forearm；　a　beak　shredding　at　the　makeshift　bandage　he'd　wrapped　around　the　gash　there。　He　twisted　his　head　aside　barely　in　time　to　avoid　the　second　mojo's　slashing　attack　at　his　face；　but　even　so　its　wing　caught　him　full　across　the　eyes；　smashing　the　tip　of　his　nose　with　stunning　force。　The　last　two　mojos　reached　him　then；　one　swooping　down　to　a　grip　on　his　right　forearm；　the　other　landing　on　his　right　shoulder　and　digging　its　beak　into　his　cheek。
　And　Winward　went　berserk。
　He　dropped　onto　his　back　and　slammed　both　forearms　hard　onto　the　rooftop；　feeling　mojo　bones　crack　under　the　crushing　impact。　He　smashed　them　down　again　and　again　until　the　bloodied　pulps　loosened　their　grips　and　fell　off。　Reaching　up　with　his　right　hand；　he　grabbed　another　mojo　by　the　neck　and　twisted　hard。　He　heard　it　snap；　and　then　the　last　bird　was　back；　diving　toward　his　face。　He　grabbed　for　its　feet；　missed；　caught　the　wings　instead；　and　pulled　sideways。　One　wing　tore　off；　and　Winward　hurled　both　pieces　from　him。　Across　the　roof　there　was　the　flash…boom　of　a　gunshot　and　a　bullet　whistled　past　him。　Winward　swept　his　antiarmor　laser　across　the　crouching　gunmen；　then　leaped　to　his　feet　and　ran　to　them。
　All　four　were　dead。　Winward　glared　down　at　them；　gasping　for　air　。。。　and　as　his　rage　subsided　into　the　rivers　of　new　pain　ing　from　arms；　cheek；　and　shoulder；　his　brain　began　to　function　again　and　his　eyes　searched　out　the　weapons　his　enemies　had　been　manning。
　Mortars；　or　something　very　much　like　them。　Simple　tubes　with　a　firing　mechanism　at　the　bottom；　the　shells　stacked　nearby。　By　inference；　they　were　designed　with　an　equally　simple　impact　detonator。　Scooping　up　an　armful；　he　trotted　back　to　the　rear　of　the　roof。
　A　couple　of　faces　were　peering　upwards　from　the　window　he'd　smashed；　and　his　first　shell　therefore　went　in　there。　The　explosion　blew　out　a　couple　more　windows；　and　Winward　followed　it　with　one　aimed　more　toward　the　monitor　room's　center。　Then　he　turned　his　attention　to　the　guns　and　ground　crews　shooting　uselessly　at　him　from　below。　By　the　time　his　arms　were　empty　it　was　abundantly　clear　that　those　cannons　wouldn't　be　firing　again　for　a　long　time。
　Behind　him；　the　roof　stairway　door　slammed　open。　Winward　didn't　even　bother　to　look；　but　grabbed　the　parapet　edge　and　swung　down　into　the　room　below。　His　nanoputer　pensated　for　a　slight　overbalance；　and　he　landed　among　the　glass　shards　on　his　feet。
　The　place　was　a　mess。　Where　the　two　mortar　shells　had　hit；　floor　and　ceiling　were　torn　and　blackened。　Dozens　of　the　monitor　screens　had　been　smashed　by　flying　debris；　the　rest　were　blank。　At　least　six　bodies　were　visible。
　/　did　all　this。　The　thought　hit　him　with　unexpected　force；　sending　a　queasy　shiver　through　his　body。　For　the　first　time　in　his　life；　he　truly　understood　why　the　Dominion　of　Man　had　won　its　war　against　the　Trofts　。　。