Axler, James - Deathlands 60 - Destiny's Truth Read online

  "Is that what you meant, Jak?" Dean asked with a wry grin.

  The albino shrugged. "Bigger words, but yeah."

  "Point is, it's vital to get the hell out of this chamber as soon as possible." Mildred shivered. "The more time we waste here, the closer some of us get to buying the farm. And I hate to sound self-important, but if I go, then will I have time to tell the rest of you what you need to look for?"

  "Don't worry, Millie," J.B. said softly, laying a hand on her arm, "it's not going to come to that. They've got other plans for us, I figure." There was a light in the Armorer's eyes as he spoke that told of a deeper feeling, one that he wouldn't express so publicly, but which Mildred could acknowledge.

  "Let's hope so, John," she replied simply.

  The barrage of fire on the ob port was beginning to lessen as the warriors realized that it was doing little in the way of any practical good. There were still those who were pouring fire and anger on the only visible symbol of their enemy, but most had acknowledged that there had to be an alternative.

  Gloria and Tammy fought their way through the throng toward the companions.

  "Ryan," the Gate queen said, "that was triple stupe of me. I've just led us right into the shit, here."

  "It's not your fault," the one-eyed man assured her. "They set it up so that we had to follow, in order to wipe out the threat of the sec force."

  Gloria looked at Ryan askance. She knew that he was only partly speaking the truth. She had, she knew, acted rashly, but dwelling on that would do no good, and Ryan was trying to tell her to move on from it. The important thing now was what they would do next.

  "Listen," Tammy said rapidly, "we need to get these stupidworks to stop firing. They'll waste valuable ammo that we may need when we figure out how to get out of here."

  "If we get a chance," Gloria added.

  "Will," Jak said firmly. "They need us in mat-trans. We not going by choice. So they need sec to push, right?"

  "Yeah, I'd figure that," Ryan agreed.

  "And if they need to send sec in, then they need an opening to come in through, right?" Krysty smiled with understanding.

  Ryan agreed. "We just need to wait and see. Have some patience but don't let our heads drop."

  "Can't afford too much patience," Mildred muttered, shaking her head slowly. "Have to hope they don't have much, either."

  J.B. looked at Mildred, concerned, then focused his attention elsewhere. "Let's get this firing stopped," he said brusquely.

  The Armorer left them, moving among the masses with Tammy, trying to persuade the warriors to cease firing. Indicating that she should take one side of the area, while he took the other, they fanned out, weaving among the war party and stopping to speak with those who were still taking potshots at the armaglass ob port, imploring them to save ammunition for a possible escape maneuver. While Tammy was seriously concerned about running short of ammo, the Armorer's trained ear could tell that there weren't enough shots to warrant any real concern about stocks running down. As for the laser blasters, they were an unknown quantity, and they could run out of power at any moment, so couldn't be regarded seriously as part of the stockpile. The Armorer's reason for wanting to move away from the companions was rooted much closer to home. He could see how ill Mildred had become, and her comments on not making it through alive had alarmed him. John Barrymore Dix was by nature a taciturn man, not given to showing his emotions. But his relationship with the ailing woman was deeper than the other companions might have realized, and the prospect of having to watch her slowly expire before his eyes was one that inspired feelings he did not wish to share with his friends and compatriots. So he busied himself with this task until he could get a better grip on his feelings.

  The meaningless act of dissuading the others to fire enabled him to focus on something other than his inner feelings, and let him return to some sort of equilibrium. He knew his strength, and realized that he was better equipped to deal with practical matters of combat—things for which he needed a clear mind.

  The firing had ceased, but for the odd shot, when something made the Armorer look up. It was a sudden change in the atmosphere, the humidity of the room suddenly dropping in temperature, the moisture in the air growing cooler—no, definitely cold. There was more of a density to that moisture, as though it had changed from mere humidity to a fine mist or spray.

  "Dark night, they're spraying us," J.B. said softly, as he looked up, the lenses of his spectacles becoming spattered with ever larger drops.

  "Shit, they're going to soak us," came a voice from somewhere within the war party. Although he couldn't see the speaker, J.B. was able to identify him as Jon, the Gate Armorer, who had been absorbed into the main body of the army during the charge. "Cover your blasters, and try and keep warm!"

  It was good advice, and couldn't be bettered by any of the companions, or by Gloria or Tammy. The army as a whole covered their weapons as best as possible, and also tried to cover as much exposed skin as possible with their clothing. For the Gate women, who made a habit of wearing as little as possible in order to move as freely and take as much of the sun as possible, this was a difficult task. As the atmosphere moved from a mist to a spray to the equivalent of a shower of rain, some of the women began to shiver.

  The water droplets that fell from the ceiling grew larger and heavier, and rather than fall they began to bombard, as though forced from pipes by an immense pressure, so that they rained down heavily on the army below, the shower of rain now becoming like a monsoon.

  The water was extremely cold, almost like little blocks of ice that stung as they hit exposed skin, leaving it numb from the extreme cold. The Gate warriors were the worst hit, their skin a mass of goose flesh and small bruises from the impact of the water. They huddled together for warmth, trying to cover one another.

  Doc offered Cat his jacket, and although the small Gate huddled closer into him for warmth and shelter, she refused to take the heavy cloth coat.

  "Nice of you to offer, sweetheart, but you're ill, and you probably need it a whole lot more than I do," she said through chattering teeth.

  "For fuck's sake," Gloria breathed, each syllable taking effort as her body spasmed with cold, "what's this all about?"

  "Trying to soften us all up," Mildred commented as pain and cold racked her body, the air like ice as she tried to draw it into lungs that refused to obey under the stress of the cold. "Not trying to infect us, like before. That's already done…this is to make us weak, so we won't be able to react with any kind of speed or accuracy."

  "Which means we'll need to," Ryan spit. "Fireblast! They must be about to take some kind of action."

  The one-eyed man was correct in his assumption. After a few more minutes of the water treatment, by which time the fighters were numbingly cold to the bone, and the Gate warriors were almost unconscious on their feet from something approaching hypothermia, the water suddenly ceased to fall. The floor surface of the chamber was covered in a thin film of water that spread around everyone's feet, seeking holes and seams in boots, creeping in to numb feet and make the warriors ache in their bones with the cold. The surface of this film was no longer pitted with the consistent rainfall of the water, but was slowly stilling into a reflective sheet.

  "Quickly," Mildred rasped, forcing herself into action even though she was still shaking spasmodically, and every muscle and tendon was painful. Her breath was labored, and her voice hoarse, harshened by the damp and cold. "Quickly, everyone move! Just get the circulation going again, get warm. Don't let anyone else fall asleep. It could be fatal."

  The floor of the chamber came alive as previously inert warriors began to move, trying to massage life back into frozen limbs, both their own and those of their fellows. Ryan and J.B., the strongest of the companions, assisted Doc and Jak. The latter two were the worst hit by the cold, as Doc's frame was already under immense stress from both the disease and the legacy of his time-trawl experiences, and Jak was suffering from the ravages of th
e disease, as well as a low body-mass-to-surface-area ratio, which made it difficult for him to prevent the loss of valuable body heat. Dean, who was soon functioning normally, assisted Tammy and Gloria in aiding other Gate warriors, while Krysty directed her attention to Mildred.

  Gradually, the lights in the chamber began to rise, casting out the shadows that had filled the corners of the vast hangarlike room, showing that the floor space had been stripped of anything that may have been of use to the trapped army in trying to escape. The filtering of the lights meant that the increase in illumination was so gradual that it didn't at first register with the army that there had been any change. It was only when the vast emptiness of the chamber became apparent that it was realized.

  "Now why would they want to light it up in here?" Dean asked.

  "Perhaps so they can see just exactly what we're doing," Krysty mused. "And if that's the case, then it means that they're planning some action of their own."

  "Best to get ready, then," J.B. said, speculatively fingering his Uzi.

  The viewing platform also became less opaque. An internal light had been ignited, filling the gallery with a dull glow that showed three people within. Two men—both in middle age, but still trim and fit by the looks of them—and a woman, who was slightly younger, with long, curling dark hair. The three Illuminated Ones wore uniforms like their compatriots, but had an air about them that suggested they were more than mere humble workers.

  "The enemy," Doc said, his voice harsh and racked with the cold and the pox. But there was no mistaking the fire in his eyes.

  So now they could be clearly seen from the gallery, and in turn could clearly see all that was happening behind the armaglass.

  Ryan took a quick recce of the chamber, noticing that J.B. was doing likewise. There were three exits: one through which they had come, one that was set in the wall beneath the viewing gallery, and one that was set into the far wall, behind the two vast, freestanding mat-trans chamber units. The door through which the attackers had entered was a large sec door. The other two were smaller utility doors used by no more than one or two individuals at a time. Chances were that any large scale action would involve the use of the main door, but anything that would entail a filtering of the attackers in some way would utilize the smaller doors.

  The question was simply this: what would that course of action be? Ryan and J.B. exchanged glances.

  Neither could see anything around those doors that could be used as shelter or cover, and there was nothing in the chamber as a whole that would help them.

  A low hiss filled the room. Looking up and around, none of the companions could see any speakers, although they knew from other experiences that the hiss was nothing more than the sound of a public address system coming to life. However, some of the other people didn't know that, and there was a murmur of panic that rippled through the crowd as they sought the source of this possible attack. The panic turned to dismay as the voice boomed into the chamber.

  "You have already seen what we can do to make you uncomfortable. Many of you will have been weakened. Repetition of such treatment will lead to your being chilled. Therefore, it is in your best interest—in truth, your only interest—to obey our commands."

  The voice was low, soft and sibilant. Despite the echo of the chamber, there was a certain dryness to the tones that made Mildred feel uneasy. It was a voice that rang a distant resonance, back to the days before the nukecaust and her years of cryogenic suspension. She could remember her days in medical school, and the voice of the lecturer during anatomical dissection classes. The same measured, dry tone, the same detachment of all emotion from the voice, as though the speaker had lost touch with their basic humanity and operated out of pure intellectual reason, no matter how skewed it may seem to anyone else.

  If it could be said that anyone sharing those vocal characteristics would also share a similar outlook, then Mildred had a suspicion that the Gate warriors, companions and Crossroads people were in for big trouble.

  The voice continued. "You will all discard your weapons. Leave them on the floor of the chamber. Please do not think that you can conceal anything from us, as we will be monitoring you most closely. You have thirty seconds in which to do this."

  The speakers went silent. There was a mutter of confusion and incomprehension from the floor, arguments between those who wished to discard and those who were determined to hang on to their weapons. The Gate looked to their queen for an answer.

  "Hold on to them, see what these coldheart bastards do next," she yelled. Catching Ryan's eye, she could see that he didn't agree, but she was defiant.

  The thirty seconds elapsed, and another shower of icy water rained on them. It lasted for exactly the same amount of time as that given to them for discarding the weapons. Ryan checked on his wrist chron. And when the cold, shivering and demoralized people had welcomed the brief respite, the voice came again.

  "Really, I would have expected a little more intelligence from at least some of you."

  There was a pause, and Mildred exchanged a puzzled glance with Krysty. It seemed as though the voice were intimating at a certain knowledge. Was this possible?

  "There is no escape, and neither will there be a respite. Please put your weapons down within the next thirty seconds, or we will repeat the process. Frankly, we have no concern whether you live or die, but I think that perhaps you may care about the matter."

  Gloria looked at Ryan. The one-eyed man nodded almost imperceptibly.

  "Let's see what they want. No point chilling everyone now," he called to her.

  Gloria assented. "Throw down your weapons—all of you," she cried, barely able to keep the bitter note of defeat from her voice.

  All around the companions, people shed their hardware, blasters and knives. Doc kept hold of his silver lion's-head swordstick, but discarded the LeMat. Jak made a show of throwing down his .357 Magnum Colt Python. The others all discarded their blasters, Ryan and J.B. adding their panga and Tekna knife respectively.

  There was a pause as the last ringing sound of metal on concrete died away. Finally, the voice from the ob port sounded again, this time with a faintly sardonic air that caused a shiver to run down Mildred's spine, impressing on her all that she had previously thought.

  "Good. So glad that you finally saw sense. You will all stay where you are, with the exception of the seven people who travel together—the one-eyed man, the albino, the old man, the black woman, the redhead, the boy and the one with glasses. You know who I mean. You will please make your way toward the exit door directly beneath this port."

  The companions exchanged a series of looks that varied from confused to concerned: given time to reflect, it would be easy to see that even a cursory glance at the action that had taken place at this and the previous Illuminated Ones' redoubt would have separated them as a force from the Gate tribe and the Crossroads newcomers. So to be singled out wasn't that surprising. However, it suggested that the Illuminated Ones had something particular in mind for the companions.

  But what?

  "Come now, do not try our patience," the voice snapped as they hesitated. "If you do not move, then the water will be turned on once more."

  With a shrug, Ryan began to move toward the door indicated. The rest of the companions followed, moving through a crowd that parted before them. Jak stopped to hug Gloria. To the viewers above it would seem to be a touching, if uncharacteristic, farewell. But as he leaned in close and held the Gate queen, Jak whispered in her ear, "Stay alert. Look for faintest chance, from them or us. Not give up."

  "I won't, sweets," Gloria replied softly. She smiled crookedly as Jak pulled away, and winked at him.

  He returned to the main party as they progressed toward the small sec door.

  "Everyone else stand well back," the sardonic voice intoned. "The slightest sign of resistance, and we turn on the sprinklers again. And I don't think you really want that."

  "And I don't think you really want the microphon
e jammed up your ass, but it may just happen if I get hold of you," Mildred said under her breath as they reached the door.

  Looking back, they could see that a few yards separated themselves from the rest of the army.

  "Please move through the door now… and quickly," the voice said as the sec door rose rapidly.

  With Ryan in the lead, they passed through into the corridor beyond. As soon as J.B.—automatically taking the rear position, even though there was no real need—was through, the door dropped swiftly.

  The companions found themselves in an antechamber formed by the two closed sec doors, one leading out to the mat-trans chamber, and one a regular sec door in the corridor beyond that had been lowered to contain them. It was a small space, and seemed confining and almost too quiet after the room beyond.

  "What do you reckon their plans are?" Dean asked in a whisper.

  "Seems that they know we're apart in some way from the others," his father replied. "What we need to know is whether that's because they just recognize us from the last redoubt, or because they know something about us."

  "What could they know?" Jak queried.

  Doc sighed. "Perhaps my fault, dear boy—if they were part of the Totality Concept, then records may have survived concerning me, for as far as I know I was the only survivor of Operation Chronos."

  "Yeah, well, let's not jump to conclusions here," Mildred urged. "This is going to be the only chance we get, right?"

  "Right," Ryan agreed. "Keep alert, and try to keep your eyes open for anything that can help us."

  Any further attempt at formulating a plan was cut short as the second sec door—leading farther into the corridor and the heart of the redoubt—slid smoothly upward, revealing a group of four Illuminated sec— two male and two female—standing in the corridor beyond, holding laser blasters, which were immediately leveled at the companions.