Rat King, page 10
was a handier blaster, more compact, but J.B. had a soft spot for the Uzi.
Always reliable, and quite deadly at short range.
Especially if well maintained. And these blasters were gleaming. If the rest of
the armory was this well maintained, then J.B. would have given anything to see
it.
Murphy, surveying the room, had noticed J.B.
"Mr. Dix," he said, "I must apologize for the manner in which you were
questioned earlier. In war there is no time for niceties. And we've been at war
for a long time now. I have to say, boy, that you are a man after my own heart.
You care about your weaponry, and realize that the key to any effective defense
is the maintenance of a good armory. I salute you, sir."
"Nice words, but they don't get me shit," the Armorer replied.
Murphy bellowed a loud belly laugh. "Right on! Okay, you people, face up. Your
belongings are to be returned to you—without your weapons, of course—and the Gen
will give you the lowdown on our outfit and why you're needed…especially you,
old man," he added, nodding in Doc's direction.
"You need all that firepower just to talk to us and tell us that?" Krysty asked.
Murphy inclined his head. "Lady, you may be a mutie, but even you should have
worked that one out I'll bet Mr. Dix here has it sussed."
J.B. fixed Murphy with a stare. "If you mean what I figure, mebbe it means that
you respect us too much to take chances."
"Damn, but you're a sensible man." Murphy smiled. "It's a pity you're not one of
us. I could really work with someone like you. Okay. In five minutes you'll be
ready to move out."
With that, Murphy stepped back and nodded to his right. Two orderlies with the
slack jaws of inbreeding shuffled forward carrying piles of clothing, which they
flung into the room. One of them grabbed the door handle and pulled it shut.
"Hurry up y'all, just five minutes," was Murphy's parting shot as the door
slammed.
THEY WERE READY IN LESS.
All were glad to get into their familiar clothes, rather than the standard-issue
Army underwear they had found when they had first awakened. Doc greeted his
frock coat like an old friend, but bemoaned the lack of his walking stick.
"Not expect everything," Jak remarked as he hunted through his patchwork jacket
for any of the leaf-bladed knives that might have been overlooked.
The sec men had been as thorough as could have been expected, once bitten.
Now they had their wrist chrons back, Ryan noted that it was almost five minutes
to the second when the door burst open, and Wallace walked into the room. He
entered without taking any precautions, and with the air of a man who was used
to his every word being obeyed. In his own kingdom he had no need to be careful.
Behind him Murphy and a troop of four sec men kept the Gen covered.
"Listen up, people," Wallace intoned. "We need your man Dr. Theophilus Tanner to
assist us in our work, which must continue for the day when the Reds will rise
again. Make no mistake, those Russkie Reds are cunning bastards and may just be
lying low. In return for the doctor's help, you'll be allowed to stay here and
stay alive. There's always a need to recycle, and you'll all be useful sooner or
later—"
There was something about the way he said it that made Mildred shiver. Back in
the preskydark days, when she was involved in cryogenics, many of the medics and
technicians she had worked with had used such terms, and in a similar tone of
voice.
"In the meantime I want you to see the facilities we have here. Just so you
people know what you're up against. Now follow me."
Wallace spun on his heel and waddled out of the room. As he passed Murphy, the
sec chief gestured with the Heckler & Koch he was grasping. Sizing up the other
four soldiers, J.B. saw that two of them clutched H&Ks, and two were holding
Uzis. All five blasters were trained unwaveringly on their captives.
There was a boastful and proud quality to Wallace's voice that fired hope in
Ryan's heart. He was so keen to show them how strong he was that he might
unwittingly reveal a weakness. A quick glance at J.B. and an almost
imperceptible nod of the Armorer's head showed that he had had similar thoughts.
Ryan led the way out between the sec men, who were well spaced by Murphy in
order to insure that any attack couldn't be focused on more than one armed man.
The group fell into their normal recce pattern, with J.B. staying back while Jak
took the middle, Krysty and Dean in front of him, Mildred and Doc behind.
In front, Wallace had already embarked on a long-winded lecture about the
history of the redoubt, and how it had served as a research-and-development unit
while still fulfilling its main purpose as part of the Totality Concept. Ryan
listened with interest to this part of the lecture. Over the years he had picked
up shreds of information here and there about the Totality Concept, and also
about the various weapons and operations that had been part of it. He was also
interested in the way that Doc fit the pattern, his interest having been piqued
by the information they had discovered at Crater Lake.
In many ways, this community reminded him of Crater Lake, the old scientific
complex under an extinct volcano that had housed a community of inbred, mutated
whitecoats. Except these people were insane in a more dangerous way, and still
had a strong military discipline that would make them difficult to best.
As Wallace led them through the redoubt, both Ryan and J.B. tried to keep a
mental note of where the corridors led. It looked to be laid out in a similar
way to most of the redoubts they had visited, but there were extra sections and
more levels. They went down five levels, enduring the hostile gaze of the
redoubt inhabitants, going about their daily business, as they passed. All the
while Wallace kept up his litany of praise for the work his ancestors had
started and that his people were continuing.
"…and this is where we softened you up for interrogation. There are eight obs
rooms in all, each one equipped similarly. Which was quite convenient, when you
think of it, as there are seven of you…" He allowed himself a laugh. "As you
know only too well, the techniques developed here are far ahead of anything you
outsider scum may have."
He stopped them as he reached this point in the lecture. They were in the obs
room where Dr. Tricks was collecting data spilling from a chattering printer.
She looked around at them and raised an elegant eyebrow. Krysty looked her up
and down with a perusing eye. She wouldn't have expected to see such physical
perfection in an environment where even the muscle-bound sec men and their
seemingly healthy chief showed some signs of mutation or inbreeding. Was she a
mutie in some way that she didn't understand?
Trick had caught the end of the lecture. "There is one thing," she purred at
Wallace. "For so-called outsider scum, they've proved rather adept at traveling.
I'd love to know how they've learned to use the mat-trans, especially as our
people have never quite worked it out."
Wallace glared at her. "You know why," he snapped. "They have Dr. Tanner, and
you know what is to be done with him."
Tricks smiled. Krysty felt a shiver ran down her spine, and her hair snapped
tight to her head, coiling protectively around her. She suddenly felt very
afraid for Doc, and wondered at what cost he had bought their temporary
reprieve.
Wallace led them through the redoubt. They moved down another level to the R&D
labs, where the advanced armory was maintained. Here he showed them the
remote-control trank tank that had taken them out in the corridor, and other
mobile and remote-controlled weapons. J.B. was interested despite himself at
gren fixers and large-caliber blasters mounted on tracks. There were
flamethrowers and laser weapons that looked as though they might, at one time,
have been deadly, but were now just highly polished junk.
Ryan and Jak exchanged a look. It was easy to see how the weapons had been
allowed to descend to this degree of tidy disrepair by taking one look at the
maintenance techs, many of whom were slack-jawed and drooling, or showing signs
of too much inbreeding. The mutie genes were less obvious among these personnel
—certainly nothing like the chilled maintenance man with the stickie
heritage—but there was a large degree of insularity that had led to a mechanical
repetition of tasks rather than understanding what they really meant.
Ryan found that interesting. If they were used to a mechanical routine, then
anything that threw them off might cause confusion rather than spur them into
the same military and drilled action that he knew the sec men would be capable
of. That was a good sign.
On the eighth level they passed a laboratory that was sealed off by
double-glazed and reinforced fire doors with a comp coded sec lock similar to
those used on the electronic sec doors in the corridors.
Strangely Wallace became reticent when they reached this point. All of a sudden
he clammed up on them.
"This level is where the mechanism is maintained. It was the great work for
which we were trained and for which we all live. This is the work in which Dr.
Tanner can help us."
"Aren't you going to tell us what this is?" Doc queried.
Wallace shot a venomous glance at him, and Murphy stepped forward to prod him in
the ribs with the H&K.
"Shut up, you old fuck. You'll find out soon enough."
"Strange that you're so quiet now, though, isn't it?" Mildred asked Wallace.
"There are things about the mechanism that must be kept secret for now," he said
sharply. "We'll move on."
It didn't escape anyone's notice that the garrulous fat man had something nasty
to hide. What it was, no one could guess. One thing was for sure, it was a worry
as to what was in store for Doc.
Where Wallace led them next put all such thoughts out of their minds. They went
up several levels, then through a maze of corridors.
"And this, people, is the armory," Wallace announced proudly.
Despite himself, J.B. whistled softly at the array of weaponry and ammunition on
view. Boxes upon boxes of rifles, grens, ammunition, gren launchers and mortars
were carefully stacked around the base of the armory walls. Hanging on racks
were the in-service weapons—
Uzi, MP-5 K, M-60 machine guns, grens primed and ready for use, boxes of ammo
for the greased and gleaming blasters and a variety of smaller handblasters.
It was rare for an armory to still contain such an array of blasters and grens,
let alone in such perfect working order and condition. The armory was a credit
to Murphy and his forefathers.
Jak tried to move forward to get a closer look inside the armory, but he was
nudged back into place by the barrel of an Uzi. He glared at the sec man with
his good eye, hatred flashing across his scarred features.
"Watch it, mutie," the sec man growled.
"That's enough," Wallace snapped.
The sec man clicked his heels to attention and looked straight ahead. "Sir, my
apologies."
"Very good," Wallace murmured before turning his attention to J.B. "Mr. Dix, I
understand from Sarj Murphy's report that you are the weapons expert in this
little band."
"Mebbe," the Armorer replied guardedly.
"Come now, there's no need for modesty. A good man with a gun is always needed."
J.B. raised an eyebrow. It was a long time since he'd seen or heard anyone refer
to a blaster by its preskydark name.
"You notice my use of the term gun." queried Wallace. "I find it less crude than
blaster, the scum outsider term for weaponry. Too basic, too all-encompassing,"
he mused, shaking his head.
J.B. caught a glimpse of Jak out of the corner of his eye. The albino had an
expression on his face that spelled out his opinion of Wallace. It wasn't good.
Ryan, on the other hand, was seriously considering the possibility that Wallace
was so far gone into insanity as to just wipe them out where they stood.
The big man seemed to taper off, lost in thought. Then suddenly, as though
snapping back from worlds unknown, he said, "Okay, Sarj, take them back to the
dorm and contain them. I'll consult the techs on the mechanism and inform you
when I require Tanner."
He looked at them with a detached disdain that bordered on contempt. Then,
without another word, he spun on his heel and left them standing in front of the
armory.
Ryan watched the man waddle around the corner of the corridor, then turned his
head to Murphy. The sec chief was also watching Wallace with a look of
bemusement. He caught Ryan watching him, and immediately blanked his face.
But not quickly enough for Ryan to wonder about his loyalty to Wallace.
"Right, people, move out like the Gen said," Murphy barked, gesturing with his
blaster.
They turned and allowed themselves to be marched back to the dormitory. All kept
their eyes wide for any sign of slack on the part of the sec men, any
opportunity, no matter how slight, that might enable them to mount an escape
bid.
There wasn't even the whisper of a chance. Murphy's men marched them efficiently
back to the dormitory and locked them in.
"HOW CAN THAT GUY Wallace be so stupe?" Dean asked in amazement. "He's shown us
the layout of the entire redoubt and where the armory is."
"It doesn't really appear to make sense," Krysty mused. "It's hardly great sec."
"It doesn't, but then why should it? Wallace is crazy. This whole redoubt is
riddled with stupidity. You know that, even if you don't know why," Ryan said to
Krysty. The blue of his one eye burned into her.
Krysty screwed up her face. "You're right there, lover. I've got a really bad
feeling about the whole situation."
"So better do something," Jak added.
Mildred moved over to the door and looked up at the sec camera that surveyed the
room.
"Yeah, but what?"
"YOU, SOLDIER, get that damn door open."
The soldier on guard outside the dorm snapped to attention as he heard Murphy
storming toward him.
"Sir?"
"Don't you ever pay attention when you're at your post, soldier? What does the
good book say, son? Vigilance is the sacred duty of the Sons of Sam. If the old
fart is dying, then the Gen will have the both of us on a fuckin' charge. And
I'm not patrolling the rad-blast wastes for a month just because you're a
fuckwit."
"Sir," the soldier replied uncertainly to the stream of vitriol, "but what is
it, sir?"
Murphy was carrying a Heckler & Koch, which he cranked up level with the door.
"Monitor, son," he said shortly. "The old bastard is writhing on his bed and the
medic isn't getting far. Might have a better idea if the friggin' sound worked
properly, but all I can make out is friggin' static. If the old fart dies, I'm
dead meat, and without anyone to succeed me yet. Open the bastard door, boy."
"Sir…"
Leveling his Uzi, safety off, the guard punched the lock code into the door and
turned the handle. He flung the door in and adopted a combat stance, rapidly
counting the figures standing in front of him.
Six…and the old man was lying on one of the beds, moaning softly and clutching
his guts. Damn, why hadn't he heard anything? He didn't want Murphy on his back.
Seeing that all of the captives were in plain sight, Murphy rushed into the
room, sweeping his blaster in an arc to cover them.
"Okay, what's going on here? What's the matter with Tanner?" he asked, barely
keeping the panic from his voice.
Mildred turned slowly from where she had been leaning over Doc. "Appendix, I
think. Unless you have the right medical facilities and allow me to operate
immediately, then he'll probably die."
Murphy focused on the last three words and panicked.
"The hell you'll operate," he shouted. "We've got our own medics. Think we'll
trust some outsider?"
Ryan shrugged. "Okay, you get one of your inbred muties to do it and kill Doc
off. Doesn't bother me."
Murphy opened his mouth to snap back a sarcastic answer, then considered his
options.
"Let me take a look at him," he said, the nervousness now apparent in his voice.
The sec chiefs indecision infected the guard standing in the doorway. Twitching
slightly, and training his blaster on the largest grouping of prisoners—the trio
of Krysty, J.B. and Dean, who stood to the left of the bed—the guard ignored
Jak.
An upbringing in the swamps hunting nervous and sensitive wildlife had given Jak
