Firebird

TWENTY

“Hurry up,” said Gabe. “Quick!”

I got the door loose, finally, opened it, and looked down the sloping roof toward the front of the church. A traffic jam had formed out on the street. We were close to the peak, in the shadow of the bell tower. Gabe was hovering just above the roof, as close as he could get.

“It's here,” Gabe said. “Too late.”

A pair of grapplers, attached to tentacles, sailed over the edge of the roof, dropped, and took hold. Two stalks rose into view. Each held a flexible lens. An eye.

Alex shouted for me to move, simultaneously pushing me aside and stepping out with his pulser in one hand.

“Get back inside,” said Gabe. “You don't have time.”

The thing clambered smoothly up onto the roof, long, flexible struts and golden lenses and more tentacles. A spade-shaped disk held everything together. Alex fired and one of the tentacles whipped toward us and wrapped around his arm. The pulser went flying. Alex yelped, then screamed at me to go back. It lifted him into the air.

Gabe roared forward, revving his engines, making all the noise he could-which wasn't much. Alex yelled something as he was hauled toward the edge of the roof. But Gabe's charge distracted the thing. I took a desperate swipe at the tentacle with my cutter, got lucky, and sliced through it. Alex came tumbling down. Gabe roared past, just out of its reach, and began to circle back.

Alex half rolled, half scrambled to his feet. And while Gabe continued to distract the thing, we stumbled back inside. “For God's sake, Gabe,” Alex said as we pushed the door shut, “stay out of its reach.”

“Alex,” I said, “you okay?”

“Yes.” He looked shaken.

“I'm glad to hear it. What do we do now?”

“Hide.”

We slid the bolt back in place. Through the window, we could see the spider standing quietly, watching the lander. Gabe was gaining some altitude.

Alex looked around for a weapon and broke a long piece of wood off the doorframe. I had my cutter.

“Alex,” Gabe said, “you might want to warn them before you go ahead with the plan.”

There were sounds at the bottom of the staircase. More clicks. Starting up. Alex tightened his grip on the piece of frame.

“What plan?” I said.

Good idea. He mouthed the words.

“What's a good idea?”

“Follow my lead.”

“Alex, what's a good idea?”

He warned me off with a raised hand. No time for explanations. He spoke into the link: “Chase, I think we're trapped.”

He held it in place for me to use. “I agree.” Dumb, but it was the best I could think of.

“I can't see that we have any choice now.”

“Probably not.”

“But even if we can't get out of here alive, we'll have to do what we came here to do.”

“Yes,” I said.

The noises on the staircase were getting closer.

He covered the link. “Ask me why we're using the links.”

“What?”

“Just do it. Ask me.”

“Alex, why are we using the links?”

“Because, when we destroy this blasphemous temple, Okar would not want us to destroy these unhappy infidels along with it. It's not entirely their fault that the darkness has fallen on them.”

“Ah,” I said. “Yes. We would not wish to see them mangled and burning after we blow this place to hell.”

“It is behavior that is required of us. It is written in the book to give fair warning. That they may save themselves if they are so inclined.”

I whispered: “What makes you think they're listening?”

“Right now, it's our best shot.” His voice took on a note of resignation. “Chase, I'm sorry it's come to this. But we can't allow these acts of blasphemy to continue. We have no choice in the matter and we haven't much time.”

“I know.”

“They're coming up now. Take a moment to pray to Okar, to thank Him for all His gifts. And then we'll do it.”

The sounds had reached the landing below us. Suddenly, they hesitated.

We looked at each other. Alex said nothing but mouthed the words, Let's hope.

“Alex?”

“Yes, Chase?”

“Good-bye. I've been proud to know you. You are a good and decent servant of the Lord.”

Whatever was on the staircase started back down. Rapidly.

“You, too, Chase. Hand me the detonator.”

Watching them clear out was a joy that will stay with me forever. We couldn't see them, from our hideaway near the bell tower, but we could hear them, doors slamming, engines turning on, cars and trucks backing into others and scraping bumpers as they tried to turn around. Bots scrambling, running, stumbling out of the church, adding to the mayhem. Vehicles bounced into the streets without waiting for oncoming traffic. Brakes screeched, and cars plowed into one another.

It was magnificent.

We went out onto the roof and waited for Gabe to come back down. We'd been out there only a few seconds, and Gabe was still pretty high, when a bot followed us through the door. It was bipedal, made of black and red metal. It possessed a smaller version of the lenses we'd seen on the spider. “You must think,” it said, “that we're all stupid.” Its right arm mutated into a cutting device with multiple blades. It started toward us. The arm was humming, and the blades began rotating.

I turned the cutter on it and the blade reddened and splattered, I caught a piece of it and I thought it was going to burn through my arm. Alex still held the broken doorframe. He stepped in and hammered the bot. It staggered backward, fell, and clattered down the slanted roof, with Alex right behind it. When it seemed on the verge of halting its slide, Alex kicked it over the side. Then everything was quiet, except for the hum of the antigravs in the approaching lander.

“Not all stupid,” said Alex. “Just you.”

“Brilliant, Gabe,” said Alex, when we were on board and soaring toward the clouds.

“Thank you, Alex.”

“I think you bailed us out,” I said.

“Yes.”

“That was a great idea.”

“I like to make a contribution when I can.”