Chaos Theory (29 page)

Lara clambered into the back with Igor. Her hair flew all
about her face in the high-speed winds. “I can’t protect us and
hold the shield with Blue.”

“
He is the Omicron. He can hold the weave by himself.” Igor
winced as another attack battered his shielding. “I can’t hold
this. If they figure that out and target my mind we are finished. I
am completely open.”

Lara weighed the probability of Blue being able to fight his
way from the hot zone
and
keep the web of telepathic energy in tact. If any
Hybrid managed to get a mental plea for help to the Creator the
chances of escape from the quadrant lessened drastically. “Ending
up mentally fried won’t improve our chances,” she
muttered.

Igor was doing his best to keep the attackers from breaching
their minds, but his telepathic skill lay in the offensive, not the
defensive, like hers. His mind was exposed to the enemy, and they
could gain information on everything he’d seen, heard, and
felt.

A disaster.

In comparison to the rest of them, Kenshin was weak in
telepathic skill, and his mind was already taxed from using
telekinesis to deflect the laser blasts.

Christabella peeked over the edge of the hovercraft and stared
at those in pursuit. “I can totally do this,” she muttered. “Stars,
it’s less than five hundred yards.” She stood, effortlessly sliding
into a ready pose. Christabella took aim, adjusted for the wind and
squeezed the trigger.

Igor peered through her expertly braced legs, and his eyebrows
rose. She was competent. Surprised by the impulse, his gaze
travelled up her shapely legs to the curve of her ass. He blinked,
discomforted by how his body tightened then glared at Lara when she
muttered something about males needing castration.

Christabella noted the enemy Hybrids were only deflecting
shots aimed directly at them. Whilst peppering them with shots to
keep them distracted every third shot, she sent to the side of
their FloVe. A vulnerable spot she knew about because she dated a
solar-hot mechanic once.

Lara spared the girl an amazed look, one that became a wide
grin when Christabella’s steady shots chipped away at the
hovercraft’s hull and nailed the engine.

Christabella fist pumped when the enemy engine sparked and
caught fire.

The hovercraft whiplashed round then ping-ponged between the
buildings. It crashed into a skyscraper, exploding in a pulsation
of bright light that sent vibrations through the air. The glass on
the high-rises shattered and cascaded down. The inferno swept
though the narrow street, all that metal acting like a super
conductor for the blast.

Christabella squealed and dived to hide under Igor. Proud
she’d done her part, but terrified in trying to help she’d killed
them all.

“
Incoming,” Lara yelled.

Giving Blue a mental nudge as warning, Lara withdrew her
presence from the webbing keeping the Creator out. She pushed her
power into shielding the FloVe as the purple-tinted conflagration
rushed past their ship and consumed them whole.

24.

Blue sprinted the length of the deserted street, the impact of
his heavy footfalls on the blacktop were hell on his knees. His
breath came in heavy pants, and he admitted in the future it would
be prudent to improve his cardiovascular performance.

He should have been more careful with his FloBi. How he longed
for the machine he’d taken for granted.

Stopping in a dark alley, he leaned against the wall and
caught his breath. Every vehicle he tried to boost was either
broken or too out in the open. Host were all over him the
nanosecond he came close to securing transport.

He could hear them canvassing the streets.

The Symbiont were for the most part Human in intelligence, and
the aptitude of the original mind would determine their reasoning
abilities. Blue was certain he could out smart them. His worry was
the Crimzon. No matter how smart he was, that smoke would billow
through the city streets and devour his flesh until he was a pile
of clothes unless he got out of the blast radius.

He was connected to Lara through the shield they’d weaved to
keep the Hive learning of the raid, and she moved further away at a
decent speed.

He was relieved his people were safe.

Was it too much to hope that Zeke, Valiant, Push, and
Creighton would make it back to the rendezvous point soon
too?

Blue felt the blip in mental shielding from his attacker a
split nanosecond before he jerked to the side and deflected the
blow to the back of his head.

He spun and lashed out with his foot, clipping the Hybrid
who’d snuck up on him on the forearm she raised defensively. The
girl launched a complicated series of punches and kicks at her
turncoat Omicron, a style Blue struggled to anticipate, but gleaned
the fundamentals of within eight strike stances and four defensive
poses.

She leapt into the air and moved with such speed she blurred,
her long braid whipping out. The double-tap she nailed him in the
gut and shoulder with was executed with lethal precision and
grace.

Landing softly, she spread her arms, hands fisted.

“
Traitor,” she hissed, her eyes morphing from steely grey to
blood red. She bared dainty fangs.

“
You don’t know anything,” Blue replied, his chest tight. His
gaze flicked over her and his expression softened. “You’re just a
child, Chloe.”

Face darkening, she sprinted towards him, twisted, and ran up
the wall. She flipped overhead and kicked him hard in the upper
back.

Blue figured getting the quarks kicked out of him by a girl
half his age would have been hilarious if it didn’t hurt so much.
He let his body take over and began to meet her attack with renewed
confidence, learning as they fought how to counteract her offensive
strikes, and mixing in some of his favourites from an alternative
style.

A roundhouse kick caught him by surprise, snapping his head to
the side.

He took a flurry of hard fists to the solar plexus.

His eyes narrowed gravely when he adverted a punch to the
groin, and he incapacitated her with a solid blow to the
knee.

The joint buckled and she screamed. Veins in her neck bulged
Chloe bellowed so loud.

She staggered away from him whimpering shrilly, manic with her
pain. Leaning her shoulders against the wall, a knock away from
losing, she finally sneered. Dropping her mental shields, she
gathered a swell of power to broadcast his location.

Blue smothered her mind and clipped her jaw in the same
moment.

Chloe slumped, and he caught her under the arms to help her
slide to the ground. He winced. Strange, he should have issues
hitting a female when logically she was dangerous, and would injure
him with every opportunity presented to her.

As he left the alley, he remembered the Crimzon.

Blue felt an uncustomary tingle of fear when he watched the
red mist creep around a corner at the other end of the street then
rush forward consciously seeking flesh to devour.

He tore down the road and gleaming metal caught the corner of
his eye, had him skidding to a stop to change direction.

Blue wasted no time throwing a blade of power to shatter the
glass door in his way to get inside the building. He stared at the
antique motorbikes on display on the glass podiums. Reaching the
first one, a sleek black affair with a monster exhaust, he slung a
leg over the machine. He hoped it had a full tank. It took
nanoseconds to work out the throttle, clutch, brake, and
ignition.

Checking the brand, he lifted his hand. The corresponding
OmniLock from a peg on the wall flew into his waiting
palm.

If it was already genetically coded, it was over. Blue closed
his eyes and swiped the data strip.

The engine fired, choked, fired again then roared to life, the
exhaust shuddering as its emissions echoed thunderously.

Blue dropped his leg and twisted his wrist, revving the bike.
He shot off the podium. Speeding down the ramp, the torque lifted
the front tyre in a power wheelie. He tucked his head into his
shoulder and accelerated as the front wheel came down. Smashing
through the glass, he landed on a bounce, skidding across the
asphalt.

Host poured from the shop after him.

He decelerated, leaned to the side, and pivoted to sweep the
back tyre around. Legs tucked in, Blue gunned it. The motorcycle
blast down the street and the growl of the engine echoed off the
high-rise walls.

Leaning low, he manoeuvred with ease. The bike’s speed was
considerably slower than a FloBi. Blue weaved a path through the
Host, kicking out when any got close to dragging him off. His
clothes were torn and bloodied by the time he got past
them.

Zipping down a narrow alley, Blue let the bike lean left and
shifted his weight. He cold-clocked a snarling Hybrid as he passed,
really throwing his weight into it. Blue’s knuckles split on
impact. The broken skin on his hand stung, but the rawness of
smashing his fist into the face of another felt good.

Blood pumping, pulse racing, Blue was beginning to understand
Lara’s fondness for violence.

He was shaky with the need to brawl, battling his primal
response to stop and fight until he couldn’t stand. Apparently,
when his Human fight or flight response kicked in his instinct was
to fight. A little wild-eyed, Blue laughed feverishly as he sent a
thanks to the Cosmic Virgin he was Hybrid, and followed the logic
to run far and fast.

He travelled for a while without any problems, and Blue
calculated he must be at least a minute ahead of the
Crimzon.

Gripping the handlebars tighter, he frowned at the jumble of
FloVes blocking his escape route. Blue disengaged the clutch and
opened the throttle. The engine sung it revved so hard. Just before
impact, he hit the clutch. The front tyre jerked and hit the bonnet
of the first FloVe.

Blue rocked his weight back and forth to bounce the machine up
and over the craft.

He
seriously
missed his FloBi.

The adrenaline threading through Blue’s system was
dissipating, and he was beginning to suffer the mess he was
in.

The nape of his neck was hot, his cheeks flushed, and his
lower back cramped in painful spasms. His sweaty body screamed its
exhaustion. Muscles he’d never used before ached. His head. It
pounded to a profound drumbeat from the constant aggressive
friction between the machine and the road. It was hard enough to
keep his weave with Lara in tact with his concentration so
fractured, but the added strain of using his telekinesis to fight
was carnage on his cortex.

There wasn’t much more he’d be able to take.

Jumping down the other side of the barricade, Blue was
staggered as purple laser blasts peppered the ground. Hot sparks
shot towards his face, singed the hair at his temple.

Rather than avoid the shooter, Blue went straight for
him.

The Hybrid was startled, but took aim and fired, emptying his
ammunition canister as his target dodged.

A fiery laser round hit Blue low on the thigh.

Swerving dangerously, he roared in pain. Blue’s eyes watered,
and without his opticals, the entire world blurred into a dark
smudge. Uneasy and lightheaded, his grip on the handles loosened
then tightened in defiance. Blue breathed through his mouth in
ragged gasps. He sped up. The slap of the increased wind blew the
moisture from his eyes and dragged him from the brink of passing
out. The wound burned like acid, and he could smell his own flesh
sizzle. The heated pain radiated through his leg and into his
foot.

He gritted his teeth and jumped into a crouch on the leather
seat. Laser rounds whizzed past his head like a flurry of angry
fireflies. Seriously pissed off – beyond his own comprehension –
Blue twisted his torso and kicked out. His entire leg throbbed when
his booted feet hit the Hybrid’s chest, and sent him hurtling into
a wall.

The grim smile of victory Blue shot over his shoulder died
when he focused on the obstacle on the street ahead.

He cursed viciously.

Another Hybrid blocked his path. Host spilled out behind him
and flooded the street.

Blue fortified himself just in time; a strike of telekinetic
force slammed into his torso and crushed the breath from his lungs.
The blow had been delivered with the intent to kill.

On reflex, Blue broke hard, and returned the blow magnified.
Holding nothing back, the force he released was enough to punch a
hole through concrete.

The Hybrid’s head caved, crumpling until the features mashed
together and were unrecognizable. His legs tottered on the spot
like a puppet before folding, sending the remains of his head
spattering across the road in a bloody mush.

The Host surged forward with a dull and senseless
moaning.

Tires squealed and spun a cloud of white smoke as Blue
burned-out. The antique bike slid dangerously across the road.
Traction was nonexistent. His body lurched forward. The momentum
and braking force lifted the rear tyre and tossed Blue over the
handlebars. He let go rather than be mashed into the ground with
the somersaulting bike.