We step out and I quickly grab Laura and drag her down behind a nearby vent stack. We're at deck level, and there's a pitched battle taking place. Over at one edge of the ship a small group of Academy wardens and scientists have taken up position behind a line of metal crates and barrels. They're shooting across the deck at a group of men dressed in black, who are taking cover in among the pipework and vent stacks that cover the deck. My heart lifts; it can only be the army.
Even as we watch a helicopter sweeps low overhead. I see a few of the Academy wardens aim up at it, sparks flying from the muzzles of their weapons. The copter tilts and roars away from the line of fire. The attacking soldiers have used the opportunity to gain some ground. Two more of them come clambering over the railing at the side of the ship and hunker down in cover.
Just then there's an explosion that lights up the night sky. I duck back into cover; someone must be using grenades. There's a guttering scream, and I smell burning thick in the air. Feet hammer by not far from where we hide; a pair of Academy men go running past, then stop just in front of us to take aim at the soldiers.
Without thinking I point the rifle at their back and squeeze the trigger. One man falls, and the rifle kicks so hard in my hands I almost drop it. The other man has halfway turned when I shoot him in the neck. He drops, twitching. Laura screams and huddles down against the vent stack, covering her ears.
"It's okay," I yell to her. "We're going to be okay." I drop down with my back against the metal, every muscle in my body humming with the adrenaline.
There's the noise of a helicopter rotor. At first I think the one I saw before has returned for another run at the Academy fighters, but then I turn and see a second craft. This one, a small black bug of a machine, has not yet taken flight. It sits on an elevated platform at the rear of the ship, its rotors gaining speed as it prepares to fly. There, climbing into the pilot's seat, is Ingleman.
My breath catches in my throat. Even from this distance there's no mistaking him. I can't believe it; he's getting away. Even as his men fight and die to protect his investment he's busy saving his own skin. I glance back towards the battle being fought on the main deck; both sides are entrenched. The army has moved forward as far as it can, but the Academy men are holding them back with grenades. By the time it's all over Ingleman could be miles away.
I can't let that happen. I won't.
"Lynch, wait . . ." Laura calls, but I've already taken off running towards the stationary helicopter. It's not far off, but to get there I have to climb down onto a lower deck, sprint through a maze of pipework and venting, then climb back up again onto the launch pad. At the top of the first set of steps I pause, kneel, and take aim with the rifle. The helicopter jitters in the sights; with the pain and the adrenaline I can't stop shaking. I squeeze the trigger once, twice, three times, loosing a dozen wild shots into the night until at last it clicks empty. I see sparks fly from the metal of the helipad, and I see Ingleman duck down and shield his head with his arms, then fling himself into the cockpit.
None of the shots him home. Cursing, I fling the gun aside and sprint down the steps.
