Page 62 of Sublime Target

Something had possessed her.

He had no choice but to go after her—now it was his turn to follow.

Why did he have this feeling all of a sudden… that something momentous was about to happen?

Clarissa reached a pair of large doors made of dead tree material. She waited expectantly.

Nothing happened.

“My access has been overridden,” she said quietly. “He won’t let us in.”

“Probably trying to buy time so he can escape.” Jerik had had enough. He was itching to destroy a thing or two. He lifted his gun and shot at the large metal lock that held the doors together.

Boom!

Metal melted.

The smell of burning organic material filled the air. The dead-tree doors were blackened and charred and slightly ajar, the force of the blast having pushed them open.

Clarissa gave him a strange look, rolling her eyes upwards ever so slightly. “I don’t even know anymore,” she sighed.

“It’s called consequences,” Jerik shrugged. “Shouldn’t have locked us out.”

“Huh.” She looked neither surprised nor upset. Something in her had shifted—he sensed she was no longer as fiercely dedicated to her job as she used to be.

Being used as cannon fodder could do that to someone.

Rather savagely, he kicked the door open and stepped through the destruction into Garner’s office.

His gaze instantly snapped toward the far window, which was ajar.

And Garner was stepping through it onto a hovering sky-bridge attached to some sort of flying vehicle.

The fucker was trying to escape.

Jerik didn’t waste any time. He shot across the room toward the open window and raised his gun.

“Go!” Garner shouted at the flying machine, the wind scattering his voice. He was an older human, tall and slender, with black-and-grey hair and angular features. He wore the strange attire of humans: a stiff, formal suit with a white undershirt and a thin strip of fabric tied around his neck.

Right now, he looked rather desperate.

Jerik didn’t waste a moment. He was already at the window ledge, stepping across the floating bridge to the flyer, which managed to suspend itself in mid-air with force generated from primitive jet-thrusters.

Garner lunged toward an open hatch; a brightly-lit doorway that revealed a pair of crude flight seats.

This idiot really thought he could step onto this rudimentary vessel and escape?

What was wrong with some humans?

Balancing on his feet, Jerik danced across to Garner and dropped his hand onto the human’s shoulder. A gust of wind rocked the aerial bridge.

“What?” Garner cried, whipping his head around, his grey eyes wide with panic, the whites bulging. A vein popped in his forehead. His neck was corded and strained.

“Come with me,” Jerik snapped.

“Wh-who the fuck are you?” Garner’s Universal wasn’t as good as Clarissa’s, but it was passable.

The wind blew again, harder this time. The craft and the bridge rocked. With nothing else to hold onto, Garner gripped Jerik’s arm, his fingers digging into Callidum armor but finding no purchase.

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