dark

agony with another injection of something whose name she didn't want to know.
A dark streak appeared in the wall, a hairline crack, but so straight, it couldn't be a random fracture. She screamed, "We have a Gate!"
A burst of fire from above ended suddenly with the desperate little click of an empty magazine. She heard a gasp of pain over the radio. "Hurry," Lars said weakly.
"Duodec," Morgan said.
CJ snapped the can back against her frame and pulled out a wad of explosive. Her right arm, she decided, might well have been fractured earlier. Despite having enough drugs in her bloodstream to supply a small pharmacy, her arm now throbbed like a Congo drum, and her whole body was shaking from the strain. She planted a detonator on the line of the door and started laying a line of duodec along the edge, as far as she could reach.
A loud clatter rang down from above, and a minitank, spinning out of control, hurtled into her. Her legs snapped away from the wall, and she was sliding, arm in arm with the minitank.
She pressed the button that blew the charges and shoved the minitank away from