Chapter Three
“How far?” Ryan asked of the albino.
“Two levels up—coming fast now,” Jak replied, his eyes shut tight as he listened carefully for noises that the others couldn’t detect.
“And I don’t think they’re particularly friendly, lover,” Krysty added softly. A swift glance from Ryan to the woman confirmed this, as her sentient hair was closing to her neck and scalp, detectable even as he watched.
J.B. had been pondering as this exchange took place, and turned to Ryan. “If this redoubt is like the others, then the armory and dispensary are two floors up, and the next level is where the dorms and showers are.”
“And the kitchens,” Ryan added, nodding his agreement.
“Great.” Mildred grimaced, allowing a shaft of blackened humor to penetrate the conversation, “at least we can try to beat them to death with a cooking pot.”
Ryan snorted. “Yeah, great option. How much ammo we got, J.B.?”
The Armorer looked into the canvas and leather bag he had habitually slung over his back. The bag contained the companions’ spare ammo and grens.
Ryan knew what the set look on the Armorer’s face meant before the man even mouthed the words.
“I’d say we’ve got enough, in a decent firefight, to last us about five minutes before it’s all used. We need to find an armory of some kind…or else chill those coldhearts up there with every shot counting.”
“But we’ve still got the grens,” Dean said. “What d’you reckon?”
J.B. looked up at the ceiling of the tunnel, turning his head with a slowness that seemed somehow overly luxurious when an enemy was so near.
“Can’t risk the grens down here,” he said decisively. “There’s too many cracks already in the walls, and if there have been a shitload of those worms crawling through here, then the whole area could be shot through like wormwood. One gren in the wrong place and the only chilling there’ll be will be our own.”
“Guess that settles that,” Ryan said. “The amount of firefighting we did with that mutie worm bastard, they’re gonna know we’re down here. This has got no cover at all, so let’s get going. Shape up, people.”
Blasters ready, they fell into formation and moved forward. Ryan took the lead, with Jak moving up to join him and keep his senses alert for the location of the enemy. Krysty came next, with Doc just behind, reloading the LeMat as they moved. Dean and Mildred followed, with J.B. bringing up the rear, switching from the Uzi to the M-4000. He had more cartridges packed with the deadly barbed-metal fléchettes, and figured that they could inflict more confusion and damage at close range than Uzi fire. Besides, in such a situation he would have to switch the Uzi to single shot rather than rapid fire.
The curving corridor was doglegged as it moved upward, enabling the incline to be relatively gentle and for the slope to need less space underground, allowing rooms and units to lead off it. It was good for the companions, as it didn’t make great demands on their calf muscles, sapping strength. But the downside was that it had more than its fair share of blind corners, and Ryan kept the pace slow as they moved up. He kept his eye firmly on Jak, who would indicate with the briefest shake of his white mane that the enemy was still on the descent, and not around the corner.
It was a race against time. Ryan wanted to find a position that provided cover before the descending enemy came either head-on into them or was able to establish a position of cover first, and be able to pick off the approaching companions.
At each corner, the sinews and cords in the one-eyed man’s neck tightened and bulged as he concentrated every muscle, every instinct, every reaction to be ready for the onslaught. But the expected attack didn’t come. Ryan’s gut feeling was that whoever was in charge of the approaching force was of the same opinions as himself, and was playing odds on whether the oncoming companions were to rush straight in, or establish cover.
“Slowed down,” Jak whispered hoarsely to Ryan. “Not far.”
The one-eyed warrior assented. They had reached the next level of the redoubt, the incline on the slope leveling out onto a flat floor. Ahead of them a sec door was open, its red coloring just showing at the side of the wall, disappearing into a concrete pillar that also contained the housing for the sec door release mechanism.
On this side of the door, to their right, lay a dormitory, a shower room to the left. Both doors were closed.
Ryan signaled for the companions to slow, indicating the concrete support that arched across the circumference of the tunnel. They were to split into two groups. Ryan took himself, Krysty, Jak and Doc to the left, while Dean, Mildred and J.B. split off to the right, assuming positions that kept them close to the wall, taking advantage of the scant cover provided by the concrete pillar.
“Jak, think you can take out that room, see if we’re alone here—and quick?” Ryan asked.
Jak nodded, a grin splitting his scarred and pitted white visage.
On the other side, J.B. had guessed exactly what Ryan was telling the albino, even though the one-eyed man had deliberately kept his voice low, in case the rooms were, in fact, occupied. The Armorer turned to Dean and Mildred.
“We need to see if those rooms are free. Ryan’s sending Jak into the shower room. I’ll take the dorm.”
“I’ll do it. I may be quicker,” Dean said, his dark eyes glittering with the fire of battle. It took the Armorer less than a fraction of a second to decide. With a nod, he indicated to Dean that he could take on the task.
Dean and Jak glanced at each other across the breadth of the tunnel. Jak held up a white hand, skin almost pearlescent in the fluorescent overhead lighting. Three fingers were erect. Jak curled one, then two, and then the third, bunching them into a fist.
Dean caught the count immediately: three…two…one…and now.
As one, the two young men sprang from their stations behind the pillar, their companions ready to cover them should any fire be drawn by their sudden action.
There was none. Within seconds, each youth was in front of the room he had to recce and secure.
It was bizarre that many rooms in redoubts that didn’t house comp equipment or supplies like the armory or the dispensary hadn’t been fitted with sec doors. Perhaps, in the distant days before skydark, this was the result of a bureaucrat penny-pinching on the black budget of the Totality Concept. But all that it meant for Jak and Dean was that they didn’t have to punch in a sec code and wait for the door to creep open at the slow speed usually favored by the creaking and worn-out systems.
Jak didn’t bother with the smooth knob of the door in front of him. Raising one combat-booted foot, he used every ounce of strength in the wiry muscles of his calf and thigh to crash his foot into the area of the door just below the chromium. The thin metal of the door crumpled, the fragile lock, which was a simple Yale in design—giving under the sudden stress. The door flew back, slamming hard against the wall with a crash. If anyone had been waiting behind it for Jak to enter, then the force of it would have stunned them.
Not that the albino cared about that at this
