Page 61 of Trigger Discipline

He wasn’t sure which one he hated more.

The first creature ducked its head once and then charged. Gabriel was ready to hit the deck, but the things weren’t charging at him—they were running for the aliens.

The second aliens,he thought, just as the first biologic leapt to snatch a buzzing drone right out of the air like a dog with a ball. The second alien landed, snapping down on the drone with a sickening crunch. Electricity crackled as bits of alien tech dribbled from between the thing’s teeth.

And then they were fighting.

Handler’s weapons were going wide, shooting faster than they could aim. FUDs were twittering and screeching, meeting the biologics head-on with a gagging sound of rending flesh and cracking bones.

Gabriel couldn’t look away. It was easy to pick the twospeciesapart. The FUDs and Handlers were matte black, but the biologics were cream colored with thick patches of dark brown that looked almost like spots. But no. Spots didn’tmove.These markings were constantly slithering over their thin skin in no discernible pattern.

But the truly strange thing was that the Handlers were hitting them and the biologics didn’t stop. After the initial slam of ordinance, the immolation aspect seemed to fizzle slowly. It clearly burned, but slower than the things around them.

He didn’t dare fire and draw attention to themselves. They were outgunned and pinned, hiding behind some flimsy shopping carts with no exit, while two advanced alien species went head to head less than fifty feet in front of him.

Gabriel swallowed thickly, shoving his gloved hand into his pocket. His hands closed around the crochet hook.

God, I need a drink.

CHAPTER 18

SMILE, YOU SON OF A BI?—

Blake ducked his head, closing his eyes against the spray of debris. It stung, but he blindly kept moving forward. He heaved a hot breath into his lungs and tried not to cough. The stitch in his side was agonizing, a sharp pain like a knife pressing between his ribs. With his arm around Victoria, he was trying to support her as best he could. Her breathing was harsh in his ears, face nearly white from pain and exertion.

They didn’t even know where they were running.

All around them, the world had shifted from a dystopian hellscape into a warzone. The zappy balls were still falling from the sky. They moved in such a strange pattern, with electricity arcing far beyond the impact zone, it was impossible to dodge. Even with their greater mobility, the FUDs and drones were still struck down, their bodies collapsing from electricity or exploding out into a giant ball of shrapnel if the zappy balls hit them directly. The Handlers were worse, bigger, and slower moving; they had no hope of dodging the firestorm

It was like participating in the world’s highest stakes three-legged race, and they were losing.

Ahead of them, Judd was doing his best to clear the way. With his gun up, he wasn’t even bothering to shoot anymore.There was nothing to hit—the aliens weren’t looking at them. His job was mostly to keep them from running directly into fire or falling into craters.

Sweat dripping down his face, Blake stopped when Judd held up a hand. His wound had reopened, and blood was running down his arm. He didn’t seem to notice as he helped Victoria lean up against the wall.

“What do we do?” she asked stiffly, trying not to show just how much pain she was in. Her hair had partially fallen out of its severe bun and was hanging around her face, lank from the remnants of hair gel. Her flight suit was ripped and wet from sweat.

Judd didn’t answer, just desperately tried his radio. He only got static. “I don’t get it! I thought the shield came down?”

Blake shook his head, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. They only guessed that the shield was keeping out communications. He had no idea if it affected their radios at all, and even if it didn’t, what’s to say the receiving radio wasn’t broken?

Or they were dead.

The thought made his throat close up. Blake couldn’t help but imagine the station in a heap of rubble. Tommy crushed, Phin, no doubt nearby. Scott probably wouldn't have even been able to get off the couch. And Gabriel.

Gabriel, with his changing eyes and soft secretive smiles. His big hands that were calloused from work, but so soft when they held him. His protectiveness which wasn’t suffocating, but somehow full of pride and trust.

He tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t help it. The zappy balls were falling hard and fast. What was left of DC was being decimated. They could all be dead.

And it would be all his fault.

Biting the side of his cheek, he refused to think that way. He couldn’t. Blake walked onto every scene with the expectationthat he could save that patient, and it would be the same here.

The power of positive fucking thinking.

When he looked up, Judd had foregone the radio and was busy checking his gun and ammo. Blake didn’t need to know about guns to know he was low. That left them with his and Victoria’s handguns. The small caliber was probably useless against the aliens, and that was if Blake could even hit them. Which was questionable at best, despite his bravado with Gabriel earlier. Still, he reached over and touched the gun digging into his back. Just touching it helped a little.

Judd cursed and then told them to stay there while he jogged down the street. Blake took the chance to lean up against the wall with Victoria. “You doing okay?”