第72节

ets, and turned downwards with an indescribable expression

of horror as his guts spilled out. He tried to hold himself together

but it was like trying to stuff live eels back through a gaping slit in

the bottom of a full sack.

Mustachio, who had already begun his turn towards the hidden skimmer

spun round pulling the butt of his rifle into his hip. For a split

second, Steve found himself looking down the barrel-cluster with

Mustachio's finger tightening on the trigger. But he was already into

the reverse parry. Side-stepping Deep-Six as he staggered forward and

tripped over his intestines, Steve advanced his left foot and swung the

weighted base of the quarterstaff upwards and to the right, knocking

the rifle across Mustachio's body. He was just in time. The triple

volley tore past his right ear. Mustachio pulled his head back into

his right shoulder to avoid getting hit in the face by the

barrel-cluster and staggered as he lost balance. Before he could

recover, Steve followed through with the bloodless coup de grace - a

battering ram blow to the left side of the head that tore Mustachio's

brains loose and broke his neck at the same time.

'They died so that others might live..." Hadn't the President-General

himself reminded him of the fundamental precept that gave meaning was,

in fact, the sole reason for a Tracker's existence? Deep-Six and

Mustachio had made the ultimate sacrifice - and had paid the price for

being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As Steve came under attack, the Mutes spaced around the rim and those

with Blue-Thunder behind the snoking arrow leapt into action. Steve,

who had his hands full, had no time to warn them about the ring of AP

mines and had there been time they would not have understood.

Blue-Thunder and one of the Mutes with him cleared the rock-laden strip

with one fortuitous bound but two others, running a few yards behind,

landed squarely in the danger zone. The resulting detonations also

took out three of their companions. The mines, an MX speciality, were

double action. The primary charge, detonated on impact, sent a

secondary charge upwards out of the ground spinning like an airborne

top. This exploded at a height of three feet, spraying out a deadly

disc of shrapnel that cut through surrounding flesh like a circular

saw.

More mines blew, creating more carnage, as the warriors on the rim,

realising they could not prevent the breakers from escaping if they

stayed where they were, came leaping down the surrounding slopes onto

the rock-strewn floor.

Steve, at the water's edge, was out of range of the disabling blasts

but as the first wave of explosions erupted he threw himself

instinctively into the lake. The bottom fell away at a steep angle.

He kicked out strongly in the direction of the big boulders. Breaking

the surface, he found a footing in waist-deep water and half-waded,

half-swam into the drifting cloud of blue-grey smoke. From the shore

came a confusion of screams and angry shouts, punctuated by more

staccato explosions.

Closing in, Steve caught a glimpse of the skimmer.

The engine had stalled unexpectedly; the helmsman and his five

passengers were clustered in the stern, coughing and choking as they

tried feverishly to restart it. The smoke that was supposed to mask

their dash to freedom was rapidly threatening to become a funeral

shroud.

The engine burst into life. Dragging his quarterstaff along the

surface of the lake, Steve threw himself forward, left hand raised, the

top of his thighs now clear of the water. 'Wait! Wait for me!" His

cry came as the five passengers turned and threw themselves down on the

slatted floor between the inflated rubber sides of the skimmer and the

helmsman pushed the throttle wide open. The roar of the engine drowned

out his voice. Only one of the mexicans was fast enough to react.