Page 124 of Bride of the Enemy Alien

The bucking stops but the sound comes again. A long scrape as something enormous forces stone out of its way. Whatever Rhazek sent through the old network found something real.

“Move!” I shout.

The chamber begins to break apart around us.

The guard nearest Renn lunges at him, picking now of all times to resume the fighting. Renn catches the weapon shaft with his lochaber and twists. Syin drives the second guard into the transport rail hard enough to make the metal ring. Gray tries to get the curved wand back.

I see his intent and rush over and kick it away. It skitters across the floor and disappears into the crack. Gray looks at me.

“Sorry. You should really stop leaving important things where I can reach them,” I say, shrugging.

Syin hits him from the side and they go down. For half a heartbeat I think we might actually be winning. Then the floor heaves again.

The transport cage jerks on its rails. Rhazek’s damaged wing catches against the locking arm and he snarls through his teeth. I take one step toward him, then stop.

Look first.

The room is coming apart. The passage we entered from is half blocked by a widening crack. The receiver is ruined but not dead. The transport rails cross the chamber and disappear through a narrow service opening behind the console.

There.

A route.

“Syin!” I point. “Behind the receiver. The rails go through the wall.”

He glances once and understands. “Renn.”

They move while I run for Rhazek. He lifts his head as I reach the cage.

“Kessa.”

“No lectures.”

“I was not going to lecture.”

“Good. I’m busy.”

The locking arm across his damaged wing is bent where the receiver overload twisted the cage. One end has pulled half free of the floor mount, but the other is wedged against the rail. The metal is hot and throws heat against my face.

I take his water skin and pour what little remains over the joint. Steam jumps back at me. Rhazek catches my wrist before I grab it.

“No.”

I glare at him.

“It will burn you.”

“It’s already burning you.”

“That is different.”

“Only if you’re stupid.” He narrows his eyes. “Don’t answer that.”

I wrap the edge of my shirt around my hand, wedge the bone handle of my knife under the warped joint, and push.

Rhazek braces the torn cage bar across the other side.

“Together,” I say.