Page 112 of Escape Velocity

There was a shout of anger as the fugitive realized the ploy. The dog stayed at the base of a tall tree, barking and dancing.

“Got him, Tip crowed. He and Henri started forward. They didn’t get far before another energy bolt hit Tip in the shoulder. He gasped and went down.

“Merde.” Keeping low, Allan crawled forward. He and Henri pulled the wounded man back and propped him against a slender tree.

“What did you think you were doing?” Dubois demanded, looking from Tip to Henri and back again. “You have no more sense than the hound.”

Tip’s face was flushed. “I got excited,” he wheezed.

Dubois ripped the man’s sleeve open and examined the wound. “You’re lucky it’s not worse.”

“Oui.”

“And now you are out of the action.” He looked around the group. “No more stupid chances.”

The men answered with nods of agreement.

Through the thick foliage of the Patamas, Max tried to get a look at the fugitive. It was impossible to see all of him at once, but from the glimpses Max got, he seemed to be standing on a platform that had been built high up in the tree where Bernard was still acting out his excitement.

“He’s set up a defensive position,” the security chief muttered. “Giving himself the advantage of the high ground.”

There was a stirring in the foliage. Then before anyone could react, a rope swung out, and a figure flashed through the air, disappearing into the foliage of another tree.

“Merde,” Dubois muttered. “He must have spent a lot of time working this out.”

“And he could have more of those escape ropes—to take himself closer to the river,” another man said. “Maybe he can land right in the water.”

“Can we burn him out?” Max asked. “I mean start a fire in the tree?”

The security chief gave him a horrified look. “Never. If you start a fire in the swamp, you have no control over where it goes. It might destroy acres of vegetation. It might travel back to the camp.”

Max nodded in acknowledgment, already scrambling for another idea.

“How do you keep your beamers charged at the camp?” he asked.

“We try not to use the tools from the city. But we must employ some. We have several small charging units.”

“Can we make him draw down the power pack in his weapon?”

“Not without drawing down ours.”

“Yes, but there are more of you. You can fire in turn. He only has one sidearm.”

“We hope,” Dubois said.

“We have to take the chance,” Max said. “I’m going to circle behind him.” He looked at the rest of the men. “One of you will come with me and make sure I don’t crawl into a sucking sandpit or something worse.”

“I’ll do it,” the man named Paul volunteered.

“Okay, good.”

Max turned to Allan. “Call the dog back so he won’t get hurt.”

Allan whistled for Bernard, but the hound stayed put, unwilling to abandon the man he had come to find.

“Slat.” Max muttered, hoping the dog wasn’t going to get caught in the crossfire. He turned back to Dubois. “Keep LaTour busy with periodic bursts. Move around so he won’t know where they are coming from next. When the dog starts barking again, lay down a stream of fire. But don’t aim to hit LaTour.”

“Why not?”

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