StarCraft II: Devils' Due Read Online Free PDF

reaching for a dagger,
    which he brought down with al his strength on the arm
    clutching his coat.
    It clanged on impact, the blade slipping off to the
    side uselessly. Startled, Kydd stared up at his
    attacker.
    The man grinned wolfishly. “Cybernetic arm,” he
    said.
    Quick as a thought, Kydd shrugged out of the black
    coat caught in that mechanical grip, dropping and
    sliding, scissoring his legs to try to trip the man. He
    was rewarded by feeling the man’s balance shift for
    an instant. His pleasure was short-lived, however, as
    the attacker kicked free, leaped straight up, and
    landed hard with one booted foot on Kydd’s left hand.
    Kydd arched his back, his mouth open in a silent
    scream. The stranger sprang back into a martial arts
    stance.
    “One down,” the man said, grinning. His lean,
    angular face was decorated with a neatly trimmed
    goatee, and his teeth looked startlingly white. He
    licked his lips in anticipation. “Three to go.”
    “… and their grievances are perfectly just. Shiloh
    and other worlds have tirelessly given of themselves
    to feed the Confederacy, particularly during wartime.
    Given to the point where many, busy producing food
    for others, have nothing to eat themselves. To go
    hungry when—”
    Kydd bolted upright. His left hand was completely
    useless, but his right stil clutched the dagger. He let
    his gaze flicker to the rifle, and as his adversary’s
    eyes turned to fol ow his, he hurled the dagger straight
    and true, right for the man’s turned, exposed neck.
    The cybernetic hand whipped up faster than the eye
    could fol ow, and closed down on the blade.
    “Nice try.”
    The next thing Kydd knew, white-hot pain seared
    his right hand, and he was lying on his back again.
    His own dagger had pinned his hand to the
    floorboards. He tried to pul free, to clasp the hilt,
    slippery with his own blood, with his smashed left
    hand, knowing that any second now the man would be
    on him to finish the job.
    Except it didn’t happen. His would-be kil er hung
    back, his white teeth gleaming, his eyes bright as he
    watched Kydd struggle. He was … enjoying this.
    Kydd had faced death before. He had the natural fear
    of such a thing, but as he glanced up at his attacker
    and saw that grin, a new kind of fear, hot and electric,
    blossomed painful y in his heart. The man grinned
    more widely.
    Furious and frightened, his broken hand unable to
    grip the hilt sufficiently, Kydd leaned over and
    fastened his teeth on it, tasting the metal ic tang of
    blood. Clutching the hilt with his teeth and
    simultaneously willing himself to pul it free, he
    succeeded. But what could he do with two ruined
    hands?
    The only thing he could do. He scrambled to his feet
    and leaped forward in a flying kick.
    Kydd’s feet met some sort of light armor, and even
    as the kick connected, the unknown man moved with
    the blow. Kydd fel hard on the floor.
    “—to report that Farm Aid is doing exactly what it is
    supposed to: feed the loyal farmers whose sacrifices
    have placed them in this sad situation.”
    Cheers and applause greeted the statement, but
    Kydd did not hear them. Al his attention was focused
    on the man now descending upon him, his fake arm
    shooting out to close on Kydd’s throat so fast, it was a
    blur. The hand started squeezing, slowly, and with
    equal slowness the other man lifted Kydd off the floor.
    His thin lips peeled back in a grin.
    “Somebody wants you dead,” the man continued in
    an almost conversational tone. “That’s fine by me. But
    he didn’t stipulate how you were to die. Nor how long
    it should take. That was left up to me to decide.” And
    then the man actual y winked. “And we got all night .”
    Terror threatened to close in on Kydd, but he fought
    it back. With the cybernetic arm, his assailant could
    have snapped his neck instantly. Instead, he was
    choosing to kil slowly, and that gave Kydd a fighting
    chance. Using the arm that was choking him as a
    support, he