exercising our intellect and imagination—as I’m sure you are too well aware, if you can desist from the desire to extract humor from me at every opportunity…” His tone was harsh, but there was a twinkle in his still clear eyes.
“Let’s stop arguing with each other and just get to business,” Ryan suggested.
“Yeah. Could use sleep,” Jak commented.
The Armorer nodded. “And I’d like to check out the armory as soon as possible. If they left this place more or less intact…” He let his words trail off, but the implication was obvious. If the facilities on this level were as complete as its desertion would suggest, then there was a chance that the armory would also have been left in a fully stocked condition. Not only would this give them all a chance to replenish ammo stocks and perhaps pick new weapons, but it would also satisfy his desire to examine another fully-stocked predark arms dump.
“But first things first,” Krysty remarked, pulling off her fur coat, which was proving stifling in the temperature-regulated atmosphere. “Shower, food, sleep.”
“Go to it,” Ryan replied, indicating that she should take the lead now that they were as sure as was possible of the redoubt’s safety.
While Krysty headed for the showers, Mildred made her way to the medical bay. As the only member of the group with pre-dark medical training, she was always keen to loot as many drugs, dressings and medical supplies as possible from a still stocked redoubt, filling the capacious pockets of her jacket with as much as it was possible for her to carry. Many of the drugs had been vacuum sealed with the intention of lasting for a long duration underground, and if she was able to find undamaged stocks of drugs, then it was a bonus that could prove invaluable in the outside world.
Leaving Krysty to some privacy in the showers, Jak, Dean and Doc made their way to the kitchens to see what they could find. Jak detoured to check out the dorms, his mind fixed on some much needed rest, and a deep sleep untroubled by the need to stay on the alert.
J.B. hung back to speak to Ryan.
“This looks good. Food, showers, beds and no intruders.”
“Yeah. A bit too fireblasted good.”
“You thinking what I am?” the Armorer queried.
Ryan nodded. “You find a redoubt this good, chances are that’s because no one can get in.”
“So what do you reckon it’ll be? The upper levels are trashed in some way and impassable—”
“Or the outside is too hostile to support any life.”
“Or has blocked us in,” the Armorer finished.
Ryan twitched a half smile. “There’s always another jump if we can’t get out. Mebbe enough here to let us stay and rest up a few days before.”
The Armorer assented. “We’re okay for now. You go see Krysty. I’ll see if Millie needs any help.”
“That’s only because you don’t want to venture near the kitchens if Dean and Doc are in action,” Ryan said wryly.
J.B. didn’t answer, only remarking after a pause, “I’ll resist the urge to go straight to the armory,” before heading off to the medical bay.
Ryan watched his longtime friend disappear around the bend in the corridor before shaking his head and allowing himself a smile.
“NEED A HAND?”
Mildred stopped rummaging through the cupboard. “You could get the rest of these things open and see if there’s anything worth saving,” she replied.
J.B. moved across the large bay, past the row of couches that were designed for those who needed to be laid out while being treated, and joined Mildred at the far side of the room. He opened the cupboard door. “Looks like you hit the jackpot,” he noted, casting an eye over the medical supplies within.
Mildred agreed and enlisted his help to empty the cupboards onto the couches, so that she could more easily survey the cupboard’s contents. It took them several trips to empty the array of cupboards.
J.B. stood back and let Mildred take the lead. He knew a little about medical supplies from his time with Trader. The old man had insisted that all his people know the rudiments of first aid, and there had also been a thriving trade in the few medical supplies and drugs that could be salvaged and used for barter and trade. But Mildred was the expert.
Her plaits swinging around her face, masking her expression as she muttered to herself, Mildred sifted through the vacuum packs of drugs and dressings. Some would be of little use on the outside, and those that were for minor ailments, such as the inoculations against the flu virus, were dismissed. People had to be hardier, and there was too little space for those drugs that couldn’t be termed lifesaving. Besides, many of the smaller bugs and viruses from predark times had mutated into something that could no longer be combated by the old drug.
The medicated dressings were always useful, and Mildred had to decide which to take on the matter of size: were they easy to stash in her jacket? Would they be too small to be of any practical use? Taking all the larger ones was no answer, as once the seal was broken they were rendered useless and no longer sterile, so it would all too easy to waste so much.
J.B. waited patiently while Mildred made her choices and placed them carefully in the pockets and bags sewn into the coat, turning it from just a protective garment into a walking repository.
When she had finished, Mildred looked up at the silent Armorer. “Guess this’ll be you tomorrow when you’re in the armory, right?”
J.B. nodded. “Different thing, same purpose,” he said simply.
RYAN DECIDED to shower before eating. Like J.B., he couldn’t face the thought of Dean and Doc in the kitchens before relaxing with a hot shower—assuming that the water-heating system was still operative.
The one-eyed warrior made his way to the shower rooms, noting the sound of running water as he drew near. It was unlikely that Krysty would be showering under a cold stream, so he felt assured that the heating system was fine.
Entering the communal area where Krysty’s clothes lay discarded, Ryan picked a towel from the pile that was stacked in an open cupboard space. He shook it vigorously, and a fine rain of dust was released into the air. It was an indication of the gradual failure of the air-conditioning, but was nowhere near enough for any of them to worry about.
“Come on in, lover, the water’s fine,” Krysty called from in the shower.
“How did you know it’s me?” Ryan replied, as he left the towel on the bench that ran around the walls and began to strip off his clothing, putting his blasters down first and unstrapping the panga from its sheath along his thigh.
“Who else would it be?” Krysty replied with a laugh in her voice.
“That’s a fair point,” Ryan answered as he stepped into the showers. A long stall with several showerheads supplying the hot water, some of them were partially stoppered with scale and so spluttered intermittently, while the majority sent streams of almost scalding water onto the one-eyed warrior’s leathery skin. He shuddered involuntarily as the pinpoint needles of hot water hit his aching muscles, releasing the tension within them. Steam swathed their
