“Let’s go, people—come on, clear it out!” Rice shouted at the people scrambling around in the balcony aisle. “Let us through, damn it!” He glanced back at McGarrity and Morez. “So much for keeping this quiet!” His words could barely be heard over the yells and screams of the crowd. He had thought the panic was contained on the first floor, but for some reason it had started spreading upstairs, too.
“No kidding, Chief.” Morez pointed over the balcony’s railing. “Look—there’s our hatchling, down on the main floor.”
“Where—aw, crap!” Thirty feet below the balcony, a full-grown alien was energetically cutting his way through anything soft within reach. Still swearing, the security chief struggled to get the backpack off. He was unzipping it when his men leaned on the railing, their weapons ready.
“Pretty good size for his age,” McGarrity said grimly. He and Morez didn’t need to be told to fire on the alien, and a moment later the sound of weapons fire split the commotion caused by the fleeing and screaming crowd; another instant and the noise doubled as the people who hadn’t been leaving decided it was time to head for the hills. Finally the ones who still believed it was all part of the show were getting a clue.
Morez cursed as he missed his target. He was armed with a LaserFire .385 pistol, an excellent choice of weapon, but the alien’s movements were too fast, and trying to follow with the laser beam as the creature bounded erratically across the floor invariably left a smoking streak across some hapless man or woman. McGarrity’s aim with the scope on his Redsteine .440 was better but still ineffective; the bullets of laser light did little beyond make surface stings on the alien’s teeth and carapace that only served to enrage him more. Every time a bullet hit, it seemed like the creature swiped at the spot in fury, then clawed at some poor schmuck as retaliation.
McGarrity’s swear words joined his partner’s. “Damn it! I wish we could make armor out of whatever it is that makes up his teeth. You better get the grenade popper together quick, Chief—they’re dying by the bunch!”
“Almost… there,” Rice affirmed. He had opened the plastic backpack and was now concentrating on the contents spread on the littered floor at his feet. He pulled out a number of items and swiftly screwed them together. “Just… a few more… seconds—” A firm turn of his wrist and the final weapon was loaded.
“Ready.”
His men automatically moved back as Rice leaned one elbow on the balcony railing to steady his arm. With a flick of his hand, he plugged in the visual sight that ran from the launcher to his helmet. When his point of view found the alien, the carnage around the creature made him grimace. Mozart had just finished crushing the head of an unfortunate man in a suit who would be lucky to be identified later on. “Time to say good night,” Rice said under his breath as the creature flung the man aside like a broken doll. Rice’s forefinger sought the trigger, then fell comfortably into position. The sight from the eyepiece of his helmet showed the long silver barrel stretching in front of him; he moved it slightly to the right and the alien’s form filled the target. In another second he’d locked on, the visor showing him a bloodred spot centered on the alien’s chest.
“There’s plenty more where you came from, pal.”
Rice fired.
There was a sound like a mini-rocket launching as the explosive-filled red and green grenade shot from the launcher. Before the smell of the acrid smoke left in its wake could sink into their sinuses, the streak of fire found its mark and plunged into the alien’s chest cavity, biting easily through the protective rib cage. A millisecond later, in time with Mozart’s blistering death scream, the grenade exploded. The sound of the blast made everyone in the concert hall, Rice and his men included, instinctively duck.
Sometimes, Rice thought as he struggled back to his feet and leaned over the railing to stare below, the cure could be as bad as the illness. This situation was a classic example, as the concertgoers with the misfortune to be within splashing distance who weren’t hit by flying pieces of shrapnel and jagged chunks of alien carcass and carapace were showered with globules of the creature’s acid blood. Wails of agony joined the feedback still blaring from the speakers and the shrieks of those caught between panic and flight. With an abruptness that left a hollow ringing in their ears, all sound from the speakers stopped—somebody in the control room, finally pulling the master switch. From somewhere outside, carrying through the layers of the building by flung-open doors, they heard a multitude of sirens screaming toward the concert hall.
McGarrity and Morez joined Rice at the railing, peering over to make sure the battle was finished. Bodies littered the floor amid the smoking puddles of alien blood, too many tangled limbs to count from their positions. “What do you think?” McGarrity said. “Should we help clean it up?”
“Hell, no. We’ve done what we could, and more than the Synsound bastards deserved.” Rice stood and swung the grenade launcher over one shoulder, then bent to pick up the backpack. “They made the mess, let them straighten it out.” He looked at his men with a grim expression on his dark face. “Now it’s time to go get ol’ Blue and find out what the hell this was all about.”