Taking careful aim left-handed, Ikoma fired at one of the approaching Kabane. It staggered, but didn’t go down. “Damn it!”
Using your off hand always sucks. “Pull a little right?” Sukari suggested, picking his own shots. At least he thought that might work. It hadn’t been that many days since Kibito had grabbed a bunch of nervous steamsmiths and showed them how to use weapons they’d only ever repaired before.
“Ch’.” Ikoma fired again. This time, blue sparks flew.
“Admit it.” Sukari focused on a shambling mass that must have been well-fed before it’d turned. Fired. Sparks, and the size of that one slowed down some of the mass of Kabane behind it. “You’re just out of sorts because you can’t jump over there with Mumei.”
Sukari sympathized; they were both steamsmiths, after all, and who didn’t want to take a wrench to a problem rather than shoot it? He knew he’d almost rather be under the undercarriage again than up here making sure one idiot Kabaneri on the injured list didn’t forget he was not supposed to be in close combat.
Kajika is a merciless cutthroat bargainer, who threatened to drag me into the markets to buy food if I lost track of him. Evil.
Around the arc of the Koutetsujou, other shots were ringing out against the approaching sea of gray bodies. Most hit true, blue sparks flying as the jet bullets blasted Kabane hearts. From the Hunter’s car Sukari heard an excited laugh; something about the ammo. Good. The damned Hunters ought to appreciate Koutetsujou ammo.
But there are so many Kabane. There’s always so many….
Steel shifted under them, the Hayajiro starting to uncoil from around the water-tower.
Good, everyone must be on; everyone who wants to live, anyway–