Urban Renewal - 22 -   by Erin Halfelven Art by Heather Rose Brown

Leo didn't make it easy for the renegade cop by standing still and the first two bullets missed widely. Then Leo's claw flicked the gun from LeJeune's hand against the concrete barrier marking the safe driving lane. A chemical spray hit Leo in the face but he ignored it; uncomfortable, even painful, but it hardly slowed him down. The canister hit the wall of the building and a third blow sent LeJeune's backup gun flying also.

"Next one's your head," said Leo.

* * *

Billy's time distorting force field, his flames, wrapped Tess in the same bubble of experience as the speedster. "Still seems fast," she gasped as the world flashed by.

"Yeah," said Billy. "Otherwise it would take me subjective weeks to run here from Oakland. I can adjust the distortion. What are you doing?" The question came as Billy noticed the change in his force field.

Tessie hadn't been sure she could effect something so insubstantial but the reverse proved true; it took lots less effort to make Billy's flames frictionless or nearly so. They were speeding past the edge of the airfield now, running by the shadow of The Knight flying in to recover their retreat.

Like a buttered knife slicing through hot bread, they slipped through the sound barrier into the transonic with hardly a quiver. The thunder of their passing rattled the vineyards and hop orchards of the east valley.

Billy looked down at the little girl in his arms. "Where you been all my lofe, darling?" he drawled.

Tessie giggled.

* * *

Lady Karma watched the burning line of Billy and Tess disappearing, and the Knight flying in from the little knob of Earth where Penny had landed the big robot. The jetcopter started after Billy, but pulled up, trying to gain altitude for the clash with The Knight.

Kay could sense emotions like other people see colors, smell odors or feel textures; Leo's bright savage pleasure in action, LeJeune's stink of fear, the hard-edge of Billy's determination and the granulated surface of Tessie's concentration. Behind and around her, the crowd made a background of confusion and terror. Mentally, she reached for the jetcopter's cyborg pilot, feeling there the glossy sheen of practiced action, the steel of imposed duty, a kernel of some dull hope and a shroud of despair covering everything else.

She probed, hoping to find some edge of purpose she could bend. Spartako's mind was strong but seemed oddly hollow, as if much of his own desires and emotions had been sucked out of him. A pattern of darkness attracted her and she winced, death and pain formed a cage around a hate so intense she felt almost blistered by it.

One thing seemed clear; Spartako was not a free agent but a mind enslaved to some hated otherness. Willing, even eager, to die to complete his mission, the cyborg had not given up yet.

* * *

"Take us back, Billy," said Tess. "I've got an idea."