Balzac's War: A Tale of Veniss Underground Read Online Free

growled deep in her throat.
    “Balzac, are you there?” Such a reedy, ghostly voice.
    She paced in a circle, still sniffing.
    Jeffer allowed himself to be seduced by the fluid grace, the single-minded purpose behind the strides, the preternatural balance, for she was still beautiful.
    She stopped pacing. She stared right up at him with her dead violet eyes, the snarl of fangs below the mouth.
    “Jeffer,” she said.
    His finger closed on the trigger. The red tracer light lit up the pavement. The bullet hit the pavement, sent up a rain of debris.
    But she was not there.
    He could already hear her – inside the building. Battling through their booby traps. Barricades ripped apart, flung to the side.
    “She’s coming up!” Jeffer shouted, running back into the room. “She’s coming up!”
    Mindle and Con Fegman stood against the wall farthest from the door. Balzac sobbed, curled in a corner, guarded by the autodoc. It was clear Mindle had propped Con Fegman up and that the old man would fall down given the opportunity. Which left Mindle and him to stop her. Mindle had their last two laser weapons, a rifle and a hand-held beam. He aimed the rifle at the door. They both knew it had only two or three more charges left.
    “Give me the rifle,” Jeffer said. “Keep the other one – a crossfire.”
    Mindle nodded, threw the weapon to him. Jeffer caught it. His heart pounded. His hands shook. He flicked the safety.
    Mindle said, “Soon now. Soon now.” He rocked back and forth on his heels. His eyes were dilated. He licked his lips.
    They heard the scrabble of claws upon the stairs. Heard the rasping of her breath.
    The terror left Jeffer in that instant, as if he had become as cold as Mindle. He wanted her to come through that door. He wanted to kill her.
    The sound of claws faded. Silence settled over the room.
    Jeffer looked at Mindle in puzzlement.
    Mindle smiled and winked. “Just wait. Just wait.”
    Then she hit the door with such force that the metal shrieked with fatigue.
    “Balzac! Open the door!”
    Another blow to the door. An indentation the size of her paw. A growl that would have ripped up Jeffer’s insides a minute before.
    “Go away,” yelled Con Fegman, who fell, thrashing, in the fever haze of his infection.
    “Balzac! Open the door!”
    Balzac looked up from his corner. Jeffer could see the anguish in his eyes.
    “Don’t,” Jeffer said.
    The door tore open as if it were paper.
    Metal and stone exploded into the room. Jeffer was yelling but Balzac couldn’t hear the words. She stood there – huge, black, half-seen in the autodoc’s blue glare. She shook herself, debris fluming out from her body. Mindle dove into Balzac’s corner and caught him in the ribs with an elbow. It drove the air out of Balzac’s lungs. Before he could get to his feet – to warn her? to protect Jeffer? – she leapt at Jeffer. Jeffer’s laser rifle flashed and burned her hindquarters off. Jamie screamed and, trajectory altered, landed in a bloody, crumpled heap beside him, brought to a stop by the wall.
    The body thrashed, the claws whipping out from the pistoning legs. Balzac ducked, covering his head with his hands. Con Fegman, struggling to his feet, was ripped by a claw and sent reeling by the impact. The front legs sought traction, flailed, and the great jaws beneath Jamie’s head gnashed together, opening reflexively only inches from Balzac’s throat. Fangs the size of fingers. Breath like an antiseptic wind. Blood spattered over the blunt muzzle. He could see the tiny pink tongue muscles tensing and relaxing spasmodically.
    Jeffer shouted an order to the autodoc. The autodoc lurched over on its treads, extended a tube, and stuck a needle into what remained of the flesh dog’s left flank. The flailing died away. The great jaws lost their rigidity and rested against the floor. Blood seeped out from beneath the body, licking at Balzac’s drawn up feet. Con Fegman moaned.
    Balzac sat up against the wall,