Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

stop them,” said Hazel. “A direct hit with a disrupter only slows them down, unless you hit one of its very few vital spots. They were created to be unstoppable. We are in deep shit, people.”
    Mother Beatrice turned to Sister Marion at her side. “Tell everyone to arm themselves. Even the
    wounded. Get everyone who can stand to defensive positions. Reactivate all the booby-traps and arm the explosives.” Sister Marion nodded grimly, her tall black hat bobbing, and hurried off. “Explosives?”
    said Owen.
    “A last resort,” said Mother Beatrice. “They’re all linked together in one place, enough to take out the whole compound. A last gesture of defiance if it’s obvious there’s no other way.”
    “Put someone in charge of the button who doesn’t panic easily,” said Hazel. “Because we’re going to do our best to give these bastards a good run for their money. Right, Owen?”
    “Right,” he said, flexing the fingers of the hand he’d re-grown. “But if you do have a direct line to the good Lord, Mother Beatrice, now would be a really good time to put in a claim for a miracle.”
    Mother Beatrice smiled. “Every legend has its ending, sir Deathstalker, and every hero falls at last, but if that’s all that’s left to us, let us at least die well. God expects no less. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the infirmary. I think I’m going to be needed there.” She left, her back perfectly straight, and people made way for her as she passed, and bowed respectfully.
    “She’d have made one hell of a warrior,” said Hazel. “Sure,” said Owen. “She’s always been a fighter in her own way. The mild-mannered don’t tend to last long enough to become living Saints.” “Grendels,”
    said Hazel bitterly. “Why did it have to be Grendels? At least we stood a chance against the Hadenmen.”
    “It isn’t over till the fat lady croaks,” said Owen. “If nothing else, let’s see how many of them we can take with us.”
    There were startled yells from other people on the catwalk, and Owen and Hazel turned back to see the Grendels come rushing forward as one, triggered at last by some unknown signal. They surged in from all sides at once, advancing in utter silence, crossing the wide clearing in a few seconds. They threw themselves against the great wooden wall, hammering on it till the whole length of the wall sounded like a giant drum. A fusillade of disrupter fire stabbed down, punching holes through the crimson armor, but the Grendels didn’t fall. Their heavy spiked fists tore chunks out of the thick black wood, and the wall shuddered under the impact. Some Grendels came scrambling up the wall, steel talons and claws digging deep into the wood as they climbed, steel teeth grinning mercilessly. Owen leaned over the edge and shot one of the Grendels through its broad, heart-shaped head. It convulsed and fell backward, arms and legs still grabbing at nothing. It hit the ground hard and lay still, and the other Grendels swarmed right over it.
    Everyone with a gun was on the catwalks now, and the roar of so many discharging energy weapons was deafening. The rain burst into clouds of steam, and Grendels fell everywhere. But in the end there just weren’t enough guns, and far too many Grendels, and when the steam cleared, and the defenders lowered their exhausted guns, the Grendels were still surging forward and scrambling up the wall. The disrupters were useless till their energy crystals recharged, and a lot could happen in two minutes. So the next step was bow and arrow. The archers stepped forward, leaned precariously out over the wall, and let fly. Every arrow struck its target and glanced harmlessly away. And that just left steel. The Mission’s defenders lifted swords and axes and farm implements with newly sharpened edges, and waited for the enemy to come to them.
    The Grendels scrabbled up and over the outer wall in one great boiling wave, red as blood, savage as Satan, and threw themselves upon the catwalk defenders. Swords flashed and axes chopped, only to rebound helplessly from living crimson armor. The Grendels tore their way through fragile human flesh, killing everything that came within reach. A Grendel plunged its spiked hand into a leper’s belly and tore out a handful of guts. Steel teeth closed on throats and faces. Screaming men fell from the high catwalk,
    hit the ground hard, and never moved again. Some jumped rather than face the Grendels. Blood