The Girl Who Dared to Think 7: The Girl Who Dared to Fight

Rose continued to stand in the hall, drawing fire from both sides until we were both pressed against the wall, and then moved over, creating a barrier between us and the fire. It wasn’t perfect—any shot that got into the gap between Rose and the wall would shred us—but it was better than nothing.

I got shakily into a low squat and peered both ways down the hall. The walls were marred with long black scrapes where the lancers had sheared right through the metal that encased the hall, telling me the fight had been going on for a while. As I looked, I realized that one group of people had set up a barricade between the people on the other side of us and the elevator shafts that would lead to my quarters, and immediately knew who was on my side.

“We gotta get over there!” I shouted, pointing to the left. “They’re on our side!”

Dylan took a look, and then nodded. “Yeah, I agree. It looks like they’re keeping the others away from your quarters. Seems to me that’s something Knights loyal to you would do.”

I ignored her barb. Was I pleased and impressed that some Knights were loyally defending me? Absolutely. But I was also angry and bitter that they were being forced to fight in the first place. Each death either side inflicted was only helping Sage torture Scipio and was an absolute waste.

“Rose?”

“Go!” she shouted. “I’ll cover you! Just make sure the Knights on your side don’t hit my hard drive!”

“Roger!” I replied, eyeing the distance to the barricade. It was thirty feet, and while I believed that Rose would do her best to keep us covered, I had no doubt that a few of the Knights on the other side of the barricade would take shots at us before they realized we were on the same side. “Dylan, I’m going to lay some covering fire down in the hall,” I called. “When I do, you book it over there and shout whatever you think will work to get them to not fire at us.”

Dylan gave me an incredulous laugh, and I could tell the madness of everything was hitting her now, too. “Why not?” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of ruefulness and sarcasm. “This is just like what they trained us for in the Academy!”

I laughed at that, unable to help myself. Maybe she and I were both going insane, but she was absolutely right. The Academy had trained us for a lot of things, but nothing like this. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m the bigger target,” I told her helpfully.

Dylan gave me a look so filled with droll humor that I laughed again. I couldn’t help it. Here we were, surrounded by lancer fire, between two factions fighting for the heart of the Citadel, probably about to die. Sure, some people would be serious, but not me. And not Dylan.

And all I could say was… thank Scipio. I needed a morale boost, and for some reason, laughing had steadied some of my nerves. I placed a hand on her shoulder, gave her a squeeze, and then pulled the rifle off my back, shouldered it, and sighted down the hall to where two halls intersected, where the enemy fire was coming from. A quick check of the charge told me that I had 60 percent battery left. I set the charge for the lowest yield available, not wanting to kill any of the Knights by accident, and discovered that the lowest setting was 1. I selected it, and then pulled it to my shoulder.

“On my mark,” I called to Dylan and Rose, sighting down the top of the plasma rifle and curling a finger around the trigger. “Three… Two… One… MOVE!”

I fired two shots down the hall, the bursts barely the same size as the lancer bolts, and hit the back wall on the left side, then stepped with Rose, keeping her in front of me for partial cover as I sighted on the other hall. A man in a Knights uniform was coming around the corner, one arm up, with the lancer strapped to the back of his hand. I squeezed the trigger a second before I recognized him, and instantly hated that I’d aimed for a few feet in front of him and not for him.

Because if I had, then Salvatore Zale would be dead, and not spinning back around the corner shouting, “IT’S HER! GET HER! KILL HER NOW!”

Rage erupted in me—not only at his words, but because this man had played a part in my mother’s death. He had made a deal with Sadie Monroe, who had agreed to help him win the Tourney, and that deal had resulted in Rose killing my mom. If I had just realized who he was a second sooner…

A part of me wanted to stand here and wait for him to come around the corner again so I could shoot him right between his eyes and end his treachery once and for all. But common sense, or rather Dylan’s sharp, “Liana!” from behind me, had me moving, turning away and racing for the barricade behind which Dylan was already disappearing.

Moments later, the hall erupted in lancer fire coming from Salvatore’s side, and I ducked my head down and poured on the speed, scrambling for the assortment of furniture that had been stacked up to form the barrier. I could’ve climbed it, but the gap at the top was wide enough, and the fire behind me insistent enough, that I spun up a lash end and threw it.

I knew that I was giving my enemies a clear shot at me, but it wouldn’t be a prolonged one like they’d have if I tried to vault over the furniture. My lash end hit the ceiling right in front of the barricade, and I jammed the hand controls and let them jerk my body into the air. I lifted my legs to gain some speed (and to clear the furniture), and then disconnected the second my rump was past the tallest part. My landing was less than ideal—the whole thing had happened so quickly that I had been more concerned about being shot than hitting the ground—but I caught my balance and then turned to the barricade, where eight or nine Knights were firing at the charging enemy, ducking as lancer fire whizzed by overhead.

“Don’t shoot the sentinel!” I ordered as I moved up on the line, the plasma rifle already prepped. “Rose!” I could see her dark form backing toward us, but it was also taking up the bulk of the hallway, keeping us from having clear line of sight. “GET DOWN!” I shouted, cranking up the power setting to 5 and aiming.

Rose obediently fell to her stomach, and I unleashed three shots down the hall, aiming for the floor twenty feet down and creating a burning line of purple plasma with crimson flames springing up in front of the charging group of Knights, sending them back a few steps. The metal the plasma hit immediately began to melt and burn, and another few pops of the molten hot fluid forced them back a few more steps.

The Knights on my side took advantage, and before I could tell them not to, they began to fire their lancers into the crowd. The first few bodies in the front began to drop, and the other Knights erupted in a panic. I heard Salvatore shouting, “Retreat!” and they immediately broke.

“Hold your fire!” I ordered on my side, not willing to let my Knights fire into the backs of retreating men.

To my surprise, the line stopped firing, with only a few shots being made by those who hadn’t heard the order, but they were quickly corrected by a nearby Knight. Relief poured through me when I realized we had chosen the right side, and I took a step back, lowering my weapon.

My knees immediately felt weak, and I almost dropped right then and there, my exhaustion slamming into me like a heavy weight I was carrying in my bones. I managed to make it to a chair that hadn’t been shoved into the barricade before they gave out entirely, and ran a hand over my face, trying to wipe away the sudden lethargy that was overcoming me.

It didn’t work. I leaned over and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to massage them into a wakeful state.

“Liana?” a deep masculine voice above me said, and I froze, my spine stiffening in awareness.

I took a deep breath and sat up, pulling my hands away from my eyes and opening them.

Sure enough, my father was standing in front of me.

I gaped at him for a second, and then leaned in the chair to look around him, for Dylan. I found her standing right behind him, a pleased smile on her face.

I blinked at her, realizing she had no idea about the history between my father and me, and sighed, returning my gaze to him.

“I think we chose the wrong side of the hall,” I said tiredly, certain that there was no way in hell my father would ever be fighting on my side.





27