Ryan and his companions joined the members of the Raw war party who were engaged in preparing the firing. There were already numerous small fires blazing around the valley floor, and these would be the source of the bigger blaze. The lamps were being extinguished, and their oil collected. Some of the war party had discovered the storehouse where the supplies of fuel were kept, in an old outhouse to one side of one of the ranch houses, and this was added to that collected from the lamps.

 

 Now came the part that seemed the most vile: the chilled mutie Sunchildren had to be doused with the oil, to enable them to burn. The areas in between were also drenched with trails of oil, stopping short of the fires. For the whole thing to go up before the war party had left the valley would be disastrous, and it was a fine line between leaving a gap that would prevent immediate firing, a gap that would be too large for the fire to jump when the real firing began.

 

 But finally it was done. The war party assembled in the center of the ville.

 

 "Okay, plan is this," Harvey called over the crowd. "The boys here haul the nuke out first, followed by Cyclops and his people, who get the pleasure of carrying that bastard—" with which he spit at the bound Sunchild, still tied to the stake. "—and then the rest of us follow. Firing party take torches, start the burning at the back, then run like fuck to join us."

 

 There was a ripple of laughter at this touch of humor, and the crowd parted to allow the sec men pulling the makeshift platform with the nuke on it. Using scrap from the camp, they had rigged up a trolley and pulleys that enabled the missile to be rolled with a relative smoothness, and once they had breasted the gentle incline of the track it became a simple task to haul it.

 

 Ryan and J.B. followed, supporting the stake with the mutie baron so that it sat easily on their shoulders. They would take the first haul, followed by Jak and Doc, then Mildred and Krysty. They were none too happy at being volunteered for the task by Harvey, but had elected between them to say nothing and see how matters developed—especially in view of the manner in which the sec chief had assumed control of the situation, and the baron had said nothing.

 

 The main body of the war party followed, with the firing party at the rear. Composed of the fastest and most nimble members of the war party, they lit torches from the fires that still burned, then skipped among the corpses and oil trails in a macabre dance, firing the oil trails and corpses at the rear of the valley and the outer edges, then outrunning the spreading fire as it consumed the ville.

 

 The blaze was quick to take, and even in the dawning daylight the valley became an inferno of intense heat and light, the smell of charring flesh gagging and catching at the back of the throat as it drifted on the morning breeze.

 

 Looking back, Doc saw the fire take hold in the enclosed oven of the valley, flaring brighter than the rising sun, with an intense heat that flared more brightly. He wasn't the only one. As he turned, left behind by the war party, he saw that Alien was also watching the fires.

 

 There was an aura about the baron that suggested his power had been broken that night. An aura that snapped Doc out of his reverie and reminded him that, despite the holocaust behind them, their own fight was still far from over.

 

  

 

 Chapter Fifteen

 

  

 

 "Why don't you speak, you poltroon? Don't you see that this continuing pretense is only going to lead to more pain?"

 

 "You old fool. I don't know who's crazier, you or that mutie bastard," Harvey muttered. "He's a half-crazed mutie fucker, so why should he be able to make any sense?"

 

 Doc smiled, his oddly perfect white teeth reflecting the lamplight that hung over the bound and secured mutie leader, casting a pool of light in the center of the room that left the edges in shadow. He leaned toward the sec chief to emphasize his point.

 

 "That, sir, truly does beg the question of why, if you believe that, you persist in torturing the poor soul."

 

 "Poor soul? This fucker is a poor soul?" Harvey's disbelieving voice rose into a screech. "After all he's done, you can say that?"

 

 Doc shrugged. "There is, sir, no feasible logic to your argument. Would torture bring back the dead and damned? No, sir, it would not. All that would do is make you feel better for a short while. And that, sir, is not the purpose of this charade."

 

 Harvey seethed. "Big words, you lanky fuck. But that's all. I say I should just ice the son of a bitch right now."

 

 Jak stepped forward from the shadow. "Not what Alien want. Not what say. Anyway, Doc use big words but sometimes make sense. Why think talk sense anyway?" the albino added, looking to Doc.

 

 Along with Harvey, Jak and Doc in the interrogation room were Ryan, Blake and Downey from the sec force. The purpose of the interrogation, as Alien had directed his sec chief, was to find out what had happened to Dean, and also to ascertain how much the mutie leader knew about the nuke that was now being safely stored in an outlying tunnel. The trip back had been swift, the makeshift transport for the nuke being more than adequate for the task. The men pulling the nuke had headed away from the ville entrance they had used to exit the underground lair, and had instead headed for the disguised entrance that led on from the subbasement of an underground garage in a ruined office building. The sec forces had camouflaged the debris that led into the garage so well that J.B. had assumed they were headed into a wall of foliage as he followed close behind with the staked Sunchild, sharing the load with Ryan.

 

 Once inside, Alien had directed his sec chief to the interrogation, and had accompanied his men to where he planned to store the nuke. He had asked the Armorer to accompany them, and J.B. had taken that as a compliment to his abilities that he was being asked to help mothball a nuke. His rad counter had earlier verified that no radiation was leaking from the missile.

 

 The rest of the force had dispersed to their units to recover, Mildred and Krysty accompanying the wounded to the small sick bay. There were few casualties, but more than the ville's small medical team would usually deal with, and they were grateful for the assistance.

 

 And now Sunchild sat in the middle of the room, bleeding from a number of minor cuts and lesions about the face and upper body, heavily bruised from the repeated punches and slaps of the sec chief. Harvey had made a show of holding back, but it was obvious from the condition of Sunchild's earlier blaster wound, and the gangrenous smell emanating from the area around the pus-dribbling wound, that the mutie baron's stamina had been severely depleted, and it wouldn't take much to chill him once and for all.

 

 Not once had he made any sounds that could be taken as words, but there was something about Doc's conviction that the mutie could speak, and perhaps tell them something, that made the one-eyed warrior stiffen in the shadows.

 

 "Yeah, Doc, why do you think that?" he asked softly, echoing Jak's question.

 

 "Our friend here is holding out on us, I fear," Doc said, bending toward the mutie baron so that his face was almost level with that of the bound man. The smell from the mutie's gangrenous wound made him gag, but he paused, waiting until Sunchild made eye contact. "You see, I feel sure that he is following every word we say. The body language of the man suggests that he is braced against the big chill, but that he has his pride, and will take his secrets to the grave with him. To protect part of himself, keep it close. By not giving in, he feels that ultimately he will win. Don't you?"

 

 "Shit, bastard and fuck. Can you believe this complete bullshit?" Harvey raved, turning imploringly to Blake and Downey. "What the fuck kind of jolt is this old shithead on?"

 

 The two sec men exchanged puzzled glances. If their chief was right, and Doc was wrong, then why the hell were they there anyway? And if the old man was right, then why was Harvey getting so worked up?

 

 Ryan stepped forward into the light. He fixed Sunchild with his icy blue eye. "Do you know anything about my son?" he asked quietly.

 

 Sunchild returned the stare. Doc stepped back so that there was nothing between the one-eyed warrior and the mutie baron except the charged and empty air. Despite the wounds, the blood and the ugliness of his mutated features, the mutie leader assumed a sudden dignity that took all but Doc and Ryan by surprise.

 

 "I know nothing of your son, One-eye. Are you the one of legend? The one who searches for the north?"

 

 "I may be," Ryan replied in a hushed voice. "What do you know of me?"

 

 "Men we have sacrificed to the gods have spoken of you before dying. Yes, we know your tongue. My fathers and myself long ago learned that we would need it to communicate and learn from those who would join the gods. You and your people are legend to some. I tell you this—if I had your son, he would have been chilled and consumed as a sacrifice, and a noble one…one of much power. I would have welcomed that, and it would have been a fine chill for him, to meet the gods as a chosen one. But we have not done this."

 

 "I believe you," Ryan said quietly.

 

 Time seemed to stand still, and there was no one else in the room besides the two of them. All else faded in the eerie calm of Sunchild's voice. Ryan had only heard him bellowing the strange dialect and chant of his people. To hear him speak a normal tongue, and so quietly, was bizarre. He spoke it as though it were a foreign language, haltingly but with a measured precision to every word.

 

 "You have taken our totem. The means of destruction, the coming of the purifying fire."

 

 "Yeah. The last thing we wanted was another nukecaust around these parts," Ryan replied. "If the positions were reversed…" Despite himself, he found that he held a degree of respect for the mutie baron, who seemed to carry with him the dignity of an inherited line.

 

 "Our view would be different. Naturally, as you do not believe. For many generations, we have coexisted here, allowing your heresy in this ville. But things are worsening. I can feel her power growing."

 

 Doc stepped forward. "Her?"

 

 "Mutie fucker's talking shit again," Harvey interrupted.

 

 "Shut up, Harv," Blake hissed. "Let him have his say."

 

 The sec chief shot the wizened deputy a glance of pure venom but said nothing.

 

 Sunchild continued. "The woman who would control. You think I have not been aware of her heresies? The sacrifices that have been corrupted by her hand?"

 

 "She is mutie like us. I can feel her near, feel the hate. Think what you like of us, One-eye, and you, old man," Sunchild said, turning to Doc. "We are as noble as you, but we have different views. You are not bad, just wrong. But she is bad. Her blood was tainted in the underworld, and that continues. She has white-coat fever, and will seek the final solution—"

 

 The shot that rang out in the air was deafening in the enclosed space of the locked room. Ryan's ears rang, and the smell of cordite filled his nostrils. The slug from Harvey's Colt Magnum Carry blaster was a .357, powerful despite the snubbed barrel. At such short range—and the sec chief was only a few yards from the mutie leader's head—the power and destruction of the shot was awesome. Sunchild's head seemed to explode like an overripe melon, his skull splintered by the explosive power that erupted as the bullet entered through his left eye and pulped his brain, the displacement at such velocity carrying an incredible motive power. The exit wound was so large as to take the back of his skull from off of his vertebrae, the gray tissue of his brain and the red of his blood forming a fine mist that sprayed out across the room, splattering Downey, Blake and Jak, who were behind and on either side of the seated mutie.

 

 One second it seemed to Ryan and Doc that Sunchild was looking at them, his eyes strangely clear and lucid, his mouth formed into a word, about to speak. The next his head was nothing more than a blur of bone, flesh and gore, spreading out like a geyser.

 

 "Fireblast! What the hell was that for, you triple-stupe son of a pox-ridden gaudy?" Ryan yelled, rounding on the sec chief.

 

 "Don't push it, Cyclops," Harvey answered in a calm voice betrayed by only the slightest tremble. "Damned fool was spreadin' shit, demoralizing my men. Can't have that. Right, boys?" He looked to Downey and Blake, who were wiping themselves off as best as possible.

 

 Like Ryan, Doc and Jak, they were only too well aware that Harvey was the man with the unholstered blaster. Nonetheless, they didn't sound too convinced.

 

 "Sure," Blake said hesitantly.

 

 "Whatever you say, Harv," Downey added, his face betraying a confusion at his chiefs action. There was a moment's awkward silence before Doc spoke.

 

 "Well, my dear sir. I shall be most interested to hear you repeat that explanation to your baron…"

 

 JENNA HAD BEEN standing, railing at Dean, when she went into convulsions.

 

 He craned his head as much as possible, straining against his bonds, and could see that she was frothing at the mouth, moaning softly with the whites of her eyes showing.

 

 Straining his muscles as much as possible, Dean was torn between hoping she was somehow dying, and hoping that she would recover. The latter because he would be trapped, with only Harvey knowing where he was. He didn't want to be left here defenseless with the sec chief, as Harvey had no reason— unlike Jenna—to keep him alive.

 

 He pulled at every restraint and one at his wrist loosened.

 

 As he worked to free his hand, Dean had to be careful. Jenna may come around at any moment, and he may have to cover his actions. There was a good chance that she wouldn't spot his deception unless she checked carefully, as the loosened restraint was on the opposite side of the bench to that on which she had fallen. Unfortunately for Dean, this just made it harder for him to loosen the leather restraint and also crane his head in the opposite direction and take in Jenna's condition.

 

 The tendons on his neck stood out, the sinews strained and popped, but the youngster kept his head toward the prone woman, watching for the barest movement that would suggest a return to consciousness. All the time, he worked his wrist, until the leather was loose enough for him to slip his wrist right out. Carefully, and with an infinite caution, he brought his free hand over to work at the restraint on the other wrist.

 

 Jenna moaned softly, the timbre of her voice changing as she slipped back into the everyday world.

 

 Dean's heart raced, rising to his mouth. He thought he might vomit, such was the rush of adrenalined surprise at her voice. Yet, acting on an instinct already honed in dangerous situations, he moved with an ease and grace that surprised himself. His arm moved back across his body to its former position, his hand slipping back into the restraint and assuming a pose of being tightly bound. His head snapped back on his neck so that he was looking up at the ceiling. To all intents and purposes, he seemed to have moved not a muscle since Jenna had had her fit.

 

 She pulled herself from the floor, still groggy from passing out. Shaking her head and muttering, she stumbled across the room to the workbench. She picked up the hypo loaded with chemicals, then turned and looked at Dean with a narrowed gaze.

 

 "No, I don't think so," she said slowly.

 

 Dean turned his head so that he met her gaze. He could feel her mind snaking out to his, probing him. He was alarmed, hoping that she wouldn't be able to see in him that he had partially freed himself.

 

 But she was looking for other things. "No, we didn't finish our little discussion, did we? No matter. But what happened to me? Yes…"

 

 Dean said nothing, trying to blank his mind completely.

 

 "Don't try and be clever, little boy," she snapped. "I only want to fill in some blanks. I remember standing beside you, then there was a sense of overwhelming danger, and this force that… Oh shit," she added in a whisper. "This can't be happening. That fuckwit idiot." She walked over to Dean, her mind still occupied. He hoped it would stay that way, and that she wouldn't check his bonds too closely.

 

 Leaning over, she put her face close to his. "You'll keep, little one. Next time I'll finish you off properly, yeah?" And he felt her hand on him, squeezing so hard that it made him wince in pleasure and pain.

 

 "Yeah, and your father, too," she said with a lustful gleam in her eye. "But first I've got trouble to settle. So you stay here and think about me. And remember this—if you give me an heir, then you live. If not, well…"

 

 She let the answer hang in the air as she turned to leave him.

 

 Dean closed his eyes, breathing heavily, heart thumping. He heard her leave the room, securing the door. The metal was thick enough that he couldn't hear her footsteps down the corridor, so he counted to twenty to himself instead, then slipped his freed hand from the loosened restraint.

 

 Now he had some time—although he couldn't be sure how long—to free himself, find his clothes and try to get the hell out. He began to move, frustratingly aware of how his muscles had ached and cramped from being held in the same position for so long. But he had to ignore the cramps and move before Jenna returned.

 

 BLAKE CLOSED the rough wooden door on the scene of Sunchild's slaughter. He secured the simple lock on the outside of the door that was designed to keep captives inside. Not that the chilled mutie baron was going anywhere. It was just habit.

 

 "Well, Harv, you've got some explaining to do to Alien," Downey said simply, looking at his sec chief.

 

 "Why?" the sec chief replied. He looked on edge, and there was the faintest hint of a facial tic as he spoke.

 

 "Shit, Harv, he didn't want Sunchild chilled. He just wanted him interrogated," Blake exploded in exasperation. "I just dunno what was going on there, but if it's something we don't know about—"

 

 "Why would it be that?" Harvey snapped. "Why the fuck would you say that?" He grabbed the smaller sec man by the front of his shirt and slammed him up against the wall.

 

 Jak was the first to react. He snaked between them, his arm flashing as he chopped up, breaking the grip. In one fluid movement, he followed through and pushed Harvey back against the far wall, where Ryan's tightly muscled arms secured the sec chief.

 

 "Thanks, Jak," Blake muttered, shaking himself down and trying to keep calm. "Feel like this whole fuckin' place has gone crazy all of a sudden."

 

 "Mebbe crazy all time. You notice now," the albino replied.

 

 "You could have a point there, Whitey," Downey said slowly. "Listen, Harv. You just go and calm down some. I'll go and report to Alien, okay? It was an accident, agreed?"

 

 Jak and Ryan exchanged looks. Should they go along with this? Doc merely assented. "It is your ville, dear boy, and your place to make decisions."

 

 HARVEY STORMED away from the group, and they let him go. For Blake and Downey, it was important to smooth things over with Alien before they found out what the hell was wrong with their sec chief. For Ryan, Jak and Doc, it was important to link up with J.B., then with Mildred and Krysty. If any immediate action was to be taken to find Dean, then they should all know exactly what was going on while they were in the same ville, in order to avoid endangering one another.

 

 It crossed Ryan's mind that he should follow Harvey. He felt sure that the sec chief could lead him to his son. But now wasn't the right time.

 

 So Harvey was alone as he stalked the passages and tunnels of Raw. His mind raced. Time was suddenly running short on him, and he had to find Jenna.

 

 She was planning to depose her husband, and although she hadn't planned to make her move yet, Harvey was sure that this would have to change.

 

 He approached the corridor at the end of which stood the metal door. It was as he turned the corner that he found Jenna locking Dean in the lab.

 

 "Listen, we've got trouble," he began in a low, tense voice, too worried to bother with preliminaries.

 

 "You think I don't know that?" she replied as she turned to face him. "I've just had an immense psychic wave throw me off balance. What have you done, Harv?"

 

 The sec chief looked puzzled. "I've just chilled Sunchild before he could say anything about you. How the fuck he knew, and how you know—"

 

 "My bastard mutie taint," she muttered savagely, halting him. "Feelie like him. I always knew that bad blood would bring trouble on me."

 

 "Well, it's gonna fall like a hard rain now. We need to do something."

 

 "Then the time has come," she said decisively. "Did you get the nuke?"

 

 "Yeah. Alien's got it stored away, doin' that while I dealt with that mutie scum."

 

 "Then we need it. If we have that, then we have the power. Order your men to seize it and await further orders from me."

 

 "Whoa there, babe," Harvey said hurriedly. "I don't know if they'll all go for it. Yeah, they're loyal to me, but only because we're under Alien. I can guarantee a few, but others…" he shrugged, thinking of the attitude he had seen in Blake and Downey.

 

 "Then we need reinforcements. Ryan Cawdor and his people. They're good fighters, and he's a strong leader."

 

 Harvey narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? Just you remember who's gonna be at your right hand, woman."

 

 "Oh, I know that very well." She smiled. "But we need help to get there, sweetie. Now all you've got to do is get Ryan Cawdor—alone—to me, and let me do the rest."

 

 She pulled Harvey to her and kissed him. It never failed, and once more the sec chief was a pliable tool for her games. However, her thoughts as they kissed were far from him, far from any desire other than power.

 

 RYAN HAD GATHERED his troops in the unit they had been allocated. Jak had sped through the twisting tunnels of the ville to find J.B. and take him away from the party that had secured the nuke in its new port of storage. Alien had been in conference with Jake about mounting a sentry on the storeroom, and then Downey and Blake had arrived to report to their baron, so it had been easy for Jak to whisper in the Armorer's ear, and for J.B. to melt away from the crowd.

 

 Doc had gathered Mildred and Krysty from the medical unit, a task made easier by the fact that the majority of wounded had now been dealt with. He alluded to Ryan's urgency in a way that had confused them, but convinced them that something was wrong.

 

 And now they were together. Ryan outlined the situation he, Jak and Doc had witnessed. When he finished, Mildred shook her head slowly.

 

 "We've got big trouble now. How the hell are we going to find Dean and still keep our backs covered for when the shit hits it?"

 

 "The only thing to do is play it as it rolls," Ryan replied. "We can't plan anything at this stage, as we don't know how Alien will play things. It also depends on Harvey's next move."

 

 "Funny say that," Jak murmured from his position by the curtain that kept them private from the tunnel outside. He was keeping watch, and had caught the sound of a familiar footstep echoing through the tunnel.

 

 Harvey entered the unit without any invitation or apology. "Cyclops, Alien wants to see you right now. His chamber. Come on."

 

 "Do not say please," Doc muttered as Ryan left with the sec chief, leaving his friends with a warning glance.

 

 "Dark night, I think you'd better trail them, Jak," J.B. said to the albino, who seemed to understand immediately.

 

 Mildred, however, wasn't as clear. "What's the matter, John?" she asked the Armorer.

 

 "Well, Millie, it's like this. Alien's gone to his chambers and been briefed by Harvey damned quick for someone who was overseeing the nuke just a little while back."

 

 Krysty was checking her blaster, making sure it was fully loaded. Her hair was coiled tightly. "The shit's already hit," she said, almost to herself.

 

 DEAN ACHED in every muscle, but he savored every last drop of the pain, because it was the pain that came from freedom.

 

 As soon as Jenna had left the room, he had freed his hand and started to work on the restraint securing his other arm. It had been simple to untie, and he had massaged life back into the dead limb. It tingled and ached, and the bites and scratches began to sting.

 

 But the problem came when Dean tried to sit up and untie his ankles. His abs were strong, and a sit-up of that kind would normally have presented no problem. However, in order to secure him, his legs and arms had been stretched, and the muscles along his ribs and across his stomach had been tensed to an abnormal degree, then held rigid.

 

 For the first two attempts, Dean found he was unable to raise himself, the only answer his musculature could give him being a sharp and repeated attack of cramps, like fire across his stomach and chest.

 

 He sank back, breathing heavily and trying to quell the panic that rose within him. He had no idea how much time he may have, and to be floundering right now was something that filled him with fear.

 

 No. Fighting it back, Dean tried for the third time, rising slowly and supporting himself with his elbows and forearms on the table. Pain shot through his arms, but it was more than compensated for by the decreased pain in his torso. As he freed his ankles and massaged pained life back into them, the sharp pains in his body reduced to a dull throb.

 

 Then he tried to stand. Learning from his previous experience, he took his time, supporting as much weight as possible through his arms as he placed his feet on the floor, feeling the pins and needles in the soles of his feet, and gradually increased the weight his legs bore.

 

 Eventually, he was standing. In pain, but unsupported.

 

 He took only a few seconds to relish this freedom, and to adjust to being mobile again. He could afford no more. He had to move as quickly as possible. His clothes were still in a heap in the corner of the room, where they had been discarded before he was trussed. He dressed as quickly as possible, wincing at the pain of the scratches and bites, the agony of cloth touching skin still sensitive after the severe cramp engendered by his restraint. When he put on his boots, his feet felt as if they were encased in lead that tightened around his ankles, forcing the blood out.

 

 Dean ignored it as best as he could, knowing that he couldn't afford the indulgence. He had to move as fast as possible.

 

 He tried the door, but knew even as he did that it was pointless. It locked from the outside, and he had heard Jenna secure it. It was still fast.

 

 Dean leaned with his back against the door and surveyed the lab. He knew the layout, and knew that it was used for experiments where fumes could be a problem in an enclosed space. So there had to be an air vent of some sort in the lab. It was no point just hammering on the door. The lab was secluded, and the only people likely to hear were Jenna or Harvey as they approached.

 

 So the air vent was his best bet.

 

 Stiffly, Dean moved around the walls of the room in which he had been kept restrained. It was the best place to start, as it was where the majority of experiments took place. Besides, he didn't want to face the results of Jenna's experiments unless he really had to.

 

 Floor to ceiling he scanned the walls, moving anything that could hide a vent. The wall by the door was clear, and it was pointless to look at the wall housing the doorway into where she kept her hideous mutated children, as this was only a dividing wall.

 

 That left the wall opposite the door to the tunnel, and the wall against which the restraining bench and operating table stood. He began with the far wall.

 

 Nothing. So the vent had to be somewhere along the wall where he had been restrained. Dean set to searching with a renewed purpose, ignoring the small voice in his head that asked if the vent was too small to get through.

 

 A metal cupboard and filing cabinet stood at the angle of the two walls. A drab olive green, they looked as though they were military salvage, possibly from the redoubt. They were standing free of the wall, very deliberately pulled away from the concrete.

 

 Dean knelt, ignoring his protesting thigh muscles, and pressed his face to the gap. There was a faint draft of cold air.

 

 Dean stood slowly, his energy renewed and increased by the knowledge that he may have found his escape route. This gave him the strength to fight against his protesting body as he struggled with the cabinet and cupboard. They were full and heavy to move, screeching on the concrete floor with every inch gained. The boy's muscles, sore and strained, filled with lactic acid at every exertion, betraying the urgent effort he put into his work. He gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts, sweat pouring into his eyes, his heart racing with every screech in case it attracted Jenna or Harvey if they should be approaching.

 

 He stood back, panting. They were far enough away for him to get behind them. He dropped to his knees and crawled into the space between the metal and the concrete. The light was dimmed by shadow and enclosure, but he could see that a metal grille covered the opening of the air vent. Groping blindly, he couldn't believe his luck when he found that the screws had rusted in their plugs, and it took only a little maneuvering for him to pry the grille loose.

 

 Snaking around, tearing his already sore flesh on the corner of the opening, feeling the metal of the cabinet scrape on his already bruised ribs, Dean was head and shoulders into the vent.

 

 It crossed his mind that he had no idea if the vent would narrow suddenly or take a steep upward curve that would be impossible to follow. Perhaps he would be so tightly enclosed that his already protesting body would cramp and spasm, refusing to move.

 

 He put such notions out of his head. Instead, he focused on a single-minded determination to get away.

 

 He had no other choice.

 

 RYAN WALKED across the main hall with echoing footsteps. He wondered what Harvey had waiting for him. The sec chief had excused himself and hadn't accompanied the one-eyed warrior. J.B. and Jak had both wanted to accompany Ryan, but he had refused, instead ordering that his friends hurry to the baron's chambers after a ten-minute gap. Ryan figured he could keep it together that long, if necessary, until reinforcements showed. It was deathly quiet in the main hall. The inhabitants of Raw were still too busy putting their own affairs in order after their return from the battle to yhink about celebrating another victory. That would come later.

 

 It did seem ominous to Ryan that he could hear nothing from the baron's chamber. Not a sound, almost as though whoever was behind the heavy drapes was consciously keeping silent.

 

 Every nerve ending in his body sang with the tension. The empty socket of his left eye ached beneath its patch, the scar tingling, a reaction he always had when trouble was imminent, and it was the time of tension before action.

 

 Ryan reached for the drapes and pulled them back.

 

 "Alien?" he said in a level tone. "You wanted me?"

 

 "That fool may well do, but I want you even more," came a sibilant female tone from the shadows.

 

 The dimmed lamp increased in brightness, illuminating the chamber.

 

 "Well, well, I am surprised," Ryan murmured.

 

  

 

 Chapter Sixteen

 

  

 

 "You must have guessed," Jenna purred, her voice still carrying a harsh edge. She knelt upright on the fur-covered bed. She was naked, and licked the tip of a finger before running the nail down her body, between her breasts and down to her pubis.

 

 "You must have guessed it was me who wanted to see you…and why," she added, fixing Ryan with her raven-black and infinitely deep eyes.

 

 Despite himself, Ryan could feel her mind start to encroach on him, tendrils wisping around the edges of his consciousness.

 

 "No, I came to see Alien. Mebbe find out something about Dean," he said, trying to block his mind and stop her seeing that he was lying. He had suspected a setup of some kind. But why Jenna? He had a notion, but what exactly was it that she wanted?

 

 The small and exquisitely shaped woman licked her lips and smiled, taking a step toward him.

 

 "You're not very good at hiding your thoughts, sweetie. More of a man of action, I would have said. You know damned well why I want you, and that's why I've got your son. He has potential, but I think you would be better."

 

 She was now standing in front of the one-eyed man, who felt as though his limbs had become blobs of mercury, unable to move and infinitely heavy. She trailed the fingers of one hand delicately over his face, running a nail edge down his puckered scar with a tenderness that belied all he knew of her.

 

 "You must have gathered that I have my own plans. You and your people could be a part of that. You and your son can be my concubines and you my right hand. And that old man seems to know much of the predark ways. He could be very useful, very interesting."

 

 She now stood on tiptoe so that her face was against Ryan's. He could feel her mind snaking and coiling around his own, trying to bend his will to hers. Was this how she snared Harvey? Ryan wanted her, could feel the stirrings of lust despite his revulsion at all he knew or surmised about her. And she had Dean—she had admitted this. What had she done with his son?

 

 Ryan used this spark to fight back against her. She brushed her lips against his, and he could smell the musky sexual odor of her body. It filled his lungs and seemed to spread around his body in the same way that her mind spread around his consciousness.

 

 She began to kiss him, her tongue probing and licking, nibbling at his mouth. He felt her hands start to rove across his body, fingers searching for openings in his clothing. She was using every sensual trick she knew to break down his defenses.

 

 To a casual onlooker, it wouldn't have seemed so, but Ryan was fighting one of the most important battles of his life. He knew that if he gave in to her, then he would be enslaved and his friends doomed. He had been here before. Countess Katya Beausoleil, the sadistic baron who had wanted to keep him as her personal stud, and who had perished when they plunged into a raging river. Her enchantments had been subtler, and he had resisted those.

 

 Ryan pulled his head away from hers, a jerky, hesitant movement slowed by the lack of control he now seemed to have over his own body.

 

 "No. You won't—"

 

 He didn't get a chance to finish. While he had been struggling mentally, he had been unable to hear the approach from behind…

 

 "SOMETIMES I WISH I'd stayed at Brody's," Dean muttered as he bit into his lip. His mouth ran salty with his own blood, but the distraction of the pain was working. Muscles that screamed for freedom of movement or rest were once again blanked out enough to allow him to carry on.

 

 The air duct had run for what seemed like miles, but in all probability was only a few hundred feet, in a straight line before turning sharply to the left. The concrete inside the duct was rough and unfinished, snaring Dean's clothes and scratching at the area of exposed skin on his shins between his boots and the hem of his pants. Under his shirt, his back became raw and bruised from rubbing on the concrete ceiling of the narrow duct.

 

 The sharp corner was a problem, and for all the sinuousness that he could muster, he still wasn't sure that he could twist his protesting body and get the push from his legs that would take him around and onto the next stretch.

 

 There was no light at all now. The last vestiges from the lab, bleeding into the duct, were now just a memory.

 

 The cold draft of air had become stronger, colder as he entered the straight section, moving on. His elbows were rubbed free of skin, but he focused on the pain, using it to drive him on. He refused to think about the possibility of the duct narrowing. There was no way he could crawl backward, and the terror of being trapped was actually too great for him to even contemplate.

 

 The air was freezing now, and his body shuddered with involuntary shivers, making progress even harder. But through the intense cold, Dean realized that he had reached a junction in the air ducts. The cold seemed to bear down on him from above, and his shoulders were like blocks of ice…blocks of ice that were no longer being rubbed raw by concrete.

 

 It was too dark to see, but he could only surmise that he had reached a point where a larger central duct had been sunk as a shaft from the surface, which meant that there was more than this one duct. Logically, then, there had to be other exits.

 

 It was something of which he couldn't have been sure before now, but knowing that there was another way out cheered him, and gave purpose to his determination. Testing the distance around him by extending his arms, he found that the central shaft was wide. Experimentally, he raised his head and shoulders, slowly lest he crack his skull.

 

 There was no ceiling here. With great care not to cramp his protesting muscles, Dean found that he was able to stand in this part of the shaft, and stretch his aching and confined limbs.

 

 He tilted his head and looked up. There was no sign of light, no indication of where the shaft eventually surfaced.

 

 After pausing for a few moments to savor the lack of confinement, and to breathe deeply of the cold air, Dean began to grope blindly around the parameters of the shaft. It seemed to him that it was like the axle of a wheel, with the duct leading from the lab being one of the spokes that connected centrally to this point. Being sure to note where he began—not wanting to accidentally return the way he had come—he turned in a circle, feeling for the openings to the ducts.

 

 There were eight in all, seven for him to make his choice. Picking one diametric to the duct from the lab, he dropped to his knees again.

 

 "Just got to keep going now," he whispered to himself, striking out across the floor of the shaft and into the duct.

 

 "WELL, CYCLOPS, this is a nice little surprise."

 

 Ryan would have started at the sound of Harvey's voice behind him, but he found that he was still unable to move freely.

 

 Jenna, on the other hand, had no such trouble. Squealing with faked fright, she jumped back from the one-eyed man, grabbing a fur from the bed and using it to cover herself. Her eyes took on an accusatory cast, and Ryan felt the heaviness lift from his mind, independence return to his limbs.

 

 He turned, and saw that Harvey was standing in the opening to the chamber, the drapes held back.

 

 Alien stood beside him.

 

 "I think you may have some explaining to do, friend Cawdor," the baron said softly.

 

 Ryan shook his head. "No explaining. You think what you will."

 

 The one-eyed man knew that whatever he said, he wouldn't be believed. If he tried to explain about Jenna's power, about Dean, about her proposition, none of it would be believed. The baron was completely in her thrall.

 

 "This is no way to treat your hosts, Cyclops," Harvey said with relish. "I reckon it's just plain bad manners. Shall I chill the fucker now, Alien, or do you want to do it yourself?"

 

 The baron held up a hand. "Not now, Harv. This will require a ville meet. Send the word out soon as possible, I want everyone in the main hall. Then we'll decide what to do."

 

 "What to do?" Jenna screamed, holding the fur to her. She was acting the part of the outraged baron's wife well, Ryan had to admit. "What do you mean? This one-eyed bastard is no use to man nor to beast."

 

 "We will decide that later," Alien snapped with a harshness to his voice that Ryan hadn't heard during their stay in Raw.

 

 The baron turned his attention to Ryan. "As for you, Ryan Cawdor, you and your people will attend, by force if necessary."

 

 "That won't be necessary."

 

 Alien nodded. "Good. You perplex me, Ryan Cawdor. But we shall see. Yes, we shall see. Now get from my sight."

 

 Ryan made no reply and walked out of the chamber, passing the baron and the sec chief without looking at them. He didn't look back at Jenna, either.

 

 Now they were faced with a possible firefight to get out alive, and there was still no sign of Dean.

 

 THERE WAS ANOTHER tight corner in the concrete duct. This tunnel hadn't seemed as long as those leading from the lab, but Dean had no idea whether this was really the case or whether it was a matter of psychology. In a sense, it was unimportant. All that mattered was reaching an exit.

 

 And perhaps this was it. As he squeezed himself around the corner of the duct, a faint light permeated the gloom. The duct was on a slight incline, which made it harder for him to crawl. His elbows felt as though they were worn to the bone, no longer hurting because the nerve endings had rubbed away. But the growing light gave him the impetus to go faster. The way out was almost in sight, and he couldn't fail now.

 

 It seemed to take forever, the grille at the end of the duct growing larger, tantalizingly always out of reach. Each shuffling movement took an eternity.

 

 Sound started to leak into the shaft: a buzzing of idle conversation, the clattering of movement. Wherever Dean had landed, it was a heavily populated area. He was relieved. If it was populated, then it had to be central, so it would be easy for him to find his way back to the rest of the party. And if it was central and heavily populated, then it would be hard for Jenna or Harvey to recapture him without giving away their secrets to some degree.

 

 This knowledge spurred him on, and Dean quickened his pace, getting closer and closer to the grille.

 

 When he reached it, he could see why he had traversed an incline. The grille was situated high up in the wall of the tunnel, above the level of the heating and water pipes and the brackets for the lamps. He could see the tops of people's heads as they went about their business. He was in the central area where trade and commerce took place. Although there were a few people about, there were fewer than he would have expected from previous exploration, and through the hum of conversation he caught something about a raid on Samtvogel.

 

 It was all the more important he find his father and his friends—if they were still alive.

 

 Dean tried to loosen the grille, cursing to himself as his constricted arms found it hard to get the necessary purchase to push the grille out of the wall. But slowly it began to give, with a grating screech.

 

 Two men passing by looked up at the grille.

 

 "Shit, it's the one-eyed man's boy," one of them said. "Quick, Ham, get me something to stand on."

 

 His companion grabbed a stool that sat by an unattended stall and gave it to the muscular, thickset man. "Hang on, son, hang on," he said as he placed the stool beneath the grille and climbed up, pulling at the grille to assist Dean's restricted pushing.

 

 The grille gave way, and the thickset man tossed it to the floor, taking hold of the boy as he slithered from the duct, bunking in the light.

 

 "Ham, take the boy," the thickset man ordered his companion, and Ham—who was swarthy and squat— seized Dean with a strength of grip that gave lie to his fat frame, lowering the youth to the ground as Dean fell, upside down, from the opening of the duct.

 

 Dean sat on the floor of the tunnel, a small crowd gathering around him. The thickset man seized the boy by the hand, pumping it and announcing himself as Donal. "Where have you been, son? Where have you been?" he kept repeating.

 

 Dean found himself without the opportunity to answer, the man's concerned questioning cutting across his attempts to speak. So the youngster used the man's arm—hand still pumping—to pull himself to his feet.

 

 "Yeah, yeah, please," Dean said quickly, trying to speak between the concerned questioning, which was now beginning to come from the small crowd as Dean still found himself unable to answer. "Look, thanks, but I really can't…" He shrugged, not able to finish the sentence. Detaching his hand, he backed away from his rescuer, through the crowd. "I can't stop, really, thanks…"

 

 Dean turned, looking around to orient himself. He now knew which way he had to go in order to reach the unit where his father and friends had been billeted. He started to run, despite the protests of his aching limbs.

 

 "Well, what do you make of that?" Donal asked no one in particular. "Is that what you call friendly?"

 

 The fat man Ham shrugged. "Outlanders," he said simply, as though that were all the answer needed.

 

 RYAN OUTLINED the situation to his party.

 

 J.B. blew out his cheeks and pushed his fedora back on his head. "Well, I guess you're not chilled yet, so that's a start." He sighed.

 

 "Yeah, John, I find that really reassuring," Mildred said with heavy sarcasm.

 

 "He's right," Ryan replied. "We're here together, and we know what we're walking into later. If it's some kind of mock trial and then a chilling, at least we can make a fight of it."

 

 "Or find Dean, get out first," Jak added.

 

 "Always ask the impossible and expect the unexpected." Doc smiled. "We do not even know where he is."

 

 But even as he said this, they all noticed Jak—on sentry duty—suddenly stiffen. The albino turned to them, a rare smile cracking his scarred white face. "Always expect unexpected," he said simply.

 

 With which he disappeared around the curtain, returning a few moments later supporting an exhausted Dean, who had run despite the aches and strains of his muscles, and had collapsed into Jak's support gladly when the albino rushed to greet him.

 

 Krysty aided Jak in seating the youth on the edge of the bed. Mildred immediately stripped him to the waist to stem the bleeding from some of the deeper scratches on his back, which had soaked the back of his shirt in blood.

 

 "God in heaven, boy, what have you done to yourself?" she whispered.

 

 "Listen," Dean said breathlessly, his head suddenly swimming with exhaustion now that he had reached relative safety and was no longer moving solely on adrenaline. He had to concentrate on every word, forcing them out. "Listen, you were right, Mildred. Jenna, she has old tech, and these muties that she's made. She wants—"

 

 "The master race," Doc interjected. "As ever with these people. History never learns. It just keeps making the same mistakes on an endless loop."

 

 "Yeah, right, Doc, but saying it doesn't help now," Mildred snapped. "Let Dean finish. We don't have much time."

 

 Dean gasped out what had happened to him.

 

 "You think that both her and Harvey will use the meet to get us chilled and mebbe try and get Alien out of the way, as well? Say he's weak for letting us in?" Krysty posed.

 

 Ryan frowned. "Alien's a good man, and popular. That'd be hard for them, unless they've got the whole of the sec force with them, and I doubt that from what I've seen."

 

 "Yeah, second that," Jak added.

 

 "So we need a game plan," J.B. said, cutting to the heart of the matter. "We've got to get our asses out of here, and keep our backs covered as we go."

 

 Ryan nodded, but was cut short from adding anything by the voice of Blake behind him.

 

 "Time for the meet. Harv sent us 'cause he don't trust you," the small sec man said apologetically. He and Downey, blasters in hand, stood at the entrance to the unit, both looking embarrassed by their appointed task.

 

 As the drapes opened, Dean had reacted quickly, sliding off the bed so that he was sheltered from view. Downey and Blake wouldn't be expecting to find him, so would not search the unit if he wasn't with the party that left; he had to hope that they hadn't heard him or glanced at him when they entered. Doc, nearest to the youngster, pulled a blanket from the bed, catching the bottom hem with the toe of his boot and dragging it down so that Dean was covered.

 

 No one else noticed.

 

 "It is a pity we did not get that chance to look for young Dean, and that the lad seems destined to stay lost," Doc said with a perfectly straight face.

 

 The inference was clear, and no one spoke of Dean as they assembled in silence, then followed the sec men from the unit and on the journey to the main hall. There was nothing to be said that wouldn't give clues as to any possible course of action. It would be every man for himself, staying triple-red alert. It wouldn't be the first time they had been in such a situation.

 

 The one thing that did puzzle them individually was that the sec men had made no attempt to take their weapons. Still armed, it would have been easy for them to overpower Blake and Downey and try to effect their escape. The problem with that being that if sec men had been sent, it wouldn't be beyond Harvey to set up sec parties to ambush them if they attempted it. At least dealing with Alien they had some chance of reasoning with him.

 

 BACK IN THE SLEEPING UNIT, Dean waited until the footsteps had receded into the distance before emerging from behind the bed. While he was there, he unholstered his Browning Hi-Power and checked that it was fully loaded. He was thankful for Jenna and Harvey's confidence in the restraints on the operating table. They deemed it unnecessary to remove the blaster from the carelessly discarded pile of clothing. He slipped the blaster back to its place of concealment, fingers lingering on it to feel the position of the butt and grip, mentally mapping it for when it was necessary.

 

 Dean then crossed the floor and drew back the drape. They had disappeared around a bend in the tunnel, but he knew the route to the main hall, so it wasn't necessary to keep them in sight.

 

 He followed at a pace he calculated—from their speed on leaving—would keep him equidistant from them until he reached the main hall himself. What he would do when he got there, he wasn't sure. He would have to assess the situation as he found it.

 

 Dean kept his head down and tried to blend in with his surroundings. He was aware from the reception he had received when Ham and Donal had helped him from the ventilation duct that his disappearance had been well noted, and that there had been a search for him. Obviously, word of his escape hadn't yet reached the ears of the sec men who had come to escort his companions. He hoped that it hadn't had time to spread, and that he could remain fairly anonymous.

 

 The ville seemed to be almost empty as he made his way to the main hall. This was good for Dean, as it allowed him to pass unnoticed. However, he did find the fact that his father and companions would be facing the whole of Raw a cause for concern.

 

 As he neared the hall itself, there was a swell of sound as the muttered conversations of the whole ville gathered in one room hit him. The sound was too overlapping and confusing for Dean to make out anything in particular, but from snatches that could be discerned, he gleaned that not even the ville dwellers themselves knew what this was about.

 

 Whether that was a hopeful sign, he didn't even want to consider. He reached the entrance to the hall, which was unguarded on the outside. Beyond the opening, he could see the mass of people. His father and friends, Blake and Downey, and even the baron himself were lost to view, somewhere in the center of the vast room, surrounded by the residents of Raw.

 

 Two sec men stood on the inside of the entrance, their backs to him. Like everyone else, they seemed more interested in what was about to transpire than in keeping watch.

 

 Good. Dean approached the entrance, light-footed so as not to give them cause to turn around. His entrance was aided by a sudden call to silence from Harvey. Everyone, even the sec guards, suddenly craned forward, their attention so focused on what was happening in front of them that they ignored the young man pushing into their midst, unwilling to take their eyes from the spectacle in front of them.

 

 "I WISH EVERYONE wasn't staring so hard," J.B. whispered to Mildred as they stood in a group, flanked by Blake and Downey, in the center of the hall. The inhabitants of Raw had formed a circle around them, and were studying them with interest, appearing to have little idea as to what was occurring.

 

 "Why, John, don't tell me you're shy," Mildred replied, her acid sense of humor surfacing as an indication of her own concern.

 

 Jak turned to Blake. "Why?" he asked simply.

 

 The small sec man looked uncomfortable. "Not my choice, Jak. Harv is still boss, and he says word comes from Alien. They didn't tell me or Downey what it was about. But mebbe you know?" It was half plea, half accusation.

 

 "Mebbe believe if I tell, but mebbe not most," Jak replied.

 

 "Thing is," Downey commented, "it can't be that bad, 'cause Harv never said we should disarm you. In fact he was sure that we shouldn't."

 

 "A most interesting stratagem," Doc mused, hearing this.

 

 "Meaning?" Krysty queried.

 

 "Work it out regarding our earlier conversation." Doc smiled cryptically. "It is not, perhaps, for the general consumption."

 

 Krysty's hair curled tight to her neck. She had a good idea what Doc meant, and knew that it caught them even more between that rock and that hard place than ever. Harvey wanted to set them up and chill them in a firefight, giving himself ample time and opportunity to dispose of the baron in a seemingly accidental manner.

 

 The one thing they had in their favor was Dean. It seemed more than likely that Harvey didn't know he was loose, or if he did, was unaware that he had returned to the group. And the youngster was somewhere in Raw.

 

 Mebbe, she thought as she scanned the puzzled and not yet hostile faces of the Raw dwellers, mebbe even somewhere in this hall.

 

 Her train of thought was interrupted by the shrill yell of Harvey's voice as he pushed through to the entry of the hall, followed by Alien and Jenna.

 

 "Hey, move over there, we gonna begin. So quiet up!" the sec chief yelled. Behind him, the baron was grim faced. Jenna found it hard to hide a sly smile, and Krysty recoiled at the psychic wave that hit her when their eyes locked.

 

 It was show time.

 

 DEAN HAD BEEN MOVING through the crowd, keeping his head down so that he wouldn't be recognized, but had been brought up short by the sound of Harvey's voice.

 

 Looking up, he saw the sec chief, the baron and Jenna enter the circle left in the center of the hall. He saw the expression on the woman's face and felt his stomach flip.

 

 Trouble was coming. And now.

 

 Harvey addressed the crowd. "Okay, people, you're probably wonderin' why you're here, and what this is about. Well, these people—" he spat the word as though it were poisonous. "—have betrayed us. Alien wants to talk to y'all about it."

 

 The sec chief stood back, looking pleased with himself, as the baron stepped forward.

 

 "My friends, I have come to seek a consensus from you. As you are aware, Ryan Cawdor and his fellow travelers have aided us considerably in our recent and most vital struggles against Samtvogel. Indeed, without them our task would have been much harder. And yet I have discovered that behind our backs, Ryan Cawdor has been plotting to overthrow me and to assume control of Raw."

 

 A ripple of surprise and shock spread through the crowd. Even among the companions, there was surprise at the charge itself. Dean kept his shock down and used the ripple as a means to move forward a little more, nearer to the center.

 

 "Shortly after our return to Raw today," the baron continued, "I returned to my chambers to find Ryan Cawdor alone with my wife. She was naked and distressed—"

 

 Another ripple of shock, this time not shared by the companions. Dean, for his part, found the idea of Jenna distressed by her nakedness sickly amusing, considering what the woman had told him about her plans for his father and himself.

 

 Alien held up his hands for silence, and continued, "When I had dismissed Ryan Cawdor and had calmed my wife, I discovered that Ryan had told her he wanted to rule Raw, and use the people to help him achieve his aims. Also that he wanted her as his woman, as he was tired of the one he has now."

 

 Krysty felt sick at the accusation coming from the mutie woman, but also amused at how far wide of the mark she knew it to be. She felt the raven eyes of the queen searing into her, but refused to meet them.

 

 Tiring of that game, Jenna stepped forward and interrupted her husband. "When I told him that I wasn't interested, the bastard tried to take me by force. It was only my husband arriving that saved me from that animal," she cried, her voice trembling with an anger and fear that was convincing—unless you knew the truth.

 

 The muttering in the crowd started again, but with an uglier undertone. Jenna had never been popular, but Alien was loved and respected by his people, and she was his wife.

 

 The baron held up his hands. "I've called you here to announce that they will be expelled. I want no chilling, as the rest of the party are not to blame. They will be escorted from the ville. If, however, they do so much as come near us again, then they will be chilled. That is my ruling."

 

 There was a buzz among the crowd as they debated between those who agreed with the baron, and those who favored a chilling. Dean put aside his own surprise, and moved to the front of the crowd, making ready to break into the circle.

 

 In the middle, it was hard to tell who was the more surprised, Ryan and his companions, or Jenna and Harvey.

 

 "J.B., better be triple red just in case," Ryan whispered, leaning close to the Armorer. He was careful not to approach his weapons and spark a reaction.

 

 J.B. nodded agreement and swept his gaze over the others. While shocked, they had all taken in the judgment and were prepared to believe the baron. No one had reached for a blaster. Not even Dean. The Armorer blinked, momentarily surprised at the stealth with which the youngster had infiltrated the center of the circle.

 

 J.B. wasn't the only one to notice Dean. Harvey reached for his Colt Magnum Carry blaster as soon as he spotted Dean, but was stayed by the hand of the baron, who said something that J.B. was unable to make out in the surrounding noise. The Armorer also noticed that Jenna had turned pale.

 

 Alien held up his hand once more for silence, and made to speak as the hubbub subsided. But before he could actually speak, Dean began.

 

 "Listen to me! Alien is being lied to—Jenna and Harvey have a lab hidden at the end of one of the tunnels, and they're making muties down there. It was them who took me, and I wasn't able to escape until now."

 

 Alien listened to the youngster with a puzzled frown. Noticing this, Jenna grabbed her husband's arm.

 

 "Don't listen to that shit! Get them out of here," she screamed with an almost hysterical edge to her voice.

 

 But when her husband looked at her, there was a coldness in his eyes that made her shrink.

 

 "No," he said quietly. His voice was almost a whisper, but over the shocked silence of the gathered ville dwellers, it carried like the loudest shout. "No, let the child show me. If he lies, then it will be shown for that. If I do not allow him that chance, how can my people ever trust again that I am fair and honest?"

 

 "Don't do it," Harvey said, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. "It may be a trick of some kind."

 

 "Well, if it is, Harv, then mebbe we'll chill anyone in sight," Downey said slowly.

 

 "Right. 'Cause we'll go along, just to keep things safe…all of us. With the boy and his father, and the rest, in front. Just to be sure," Blake added. He looked at Jak before adding, "You learn who to trust when your life is on the line, and let's just say I've been having a few doubts about you lately, Harv."

 

 There was nothing that the sec chief or the mutie woman could do at that moment to change things, and as the crowd parted to allow Blake and Downey to usher Dean out of the hall, followed by his father and companions, Harvey held Jenna back from her husband as he followed.

 

 "Shit's about to hit," he said softly. "Follow, I'll try to round up those who'll follow me straightaway. We've got to move now."

 

 Jenna nodded her agreement, then followed Alien, who was looking back to see what had happened to her.

 

 In the swell of the crowd, Harvey managed to slip away in order to locate those he knew would be loyal to him first and foremost. The moment of truth was approaching.

 

 DEAN LED THEM through the tunnels and corridors of the ville, heading unerringly for the outer reaches and the tunnel that terminated in the metal door. He felt better for having Jak by his side, as the albino also knew where the lab lay.

 

 "I hope for your sake this isn't true," Alien said to Jenna in a quiet voice. "Because if it is…"

 

 "Of course the child lies," she hissed back at him, venom dripping from her tone. "You trust him against me?"

 

 "You forget I have the legend and history of Raw and the Illuminated Ones passed down to me from my forefathers," the baron replied. "I know something of your forefathers, and the taint that may have traveled down."

 

 "You've never said anything of this before," she said quietly.

 

 "I had hoped…but perhaps not," Alien replied with an infinite sadness in his voice.

 

 They had now reached the tunnel that terminated in the metal door. Dean halted before it. The lock was still in place. He turned and looked back at Alien and Jenna.

 

 "This is it. She has the key," he said simply.

 

 Alien turned to his wife. "Well?"

 

 "I don't have a fucking key," she spit. "I know nothing about this place."

 

 There was such conviction in her tone that, for a moment, Dean found he was even doubting himself.

 

 "Well, we've got to get in somehow," Blake said, stepping forward and examining the lock. "Think I could shoot it off?"

 

 J.B. leaned forward to get a better look, being careful not to move quickly or arouse any suspicion about his actions. "I'd say you need some plas-ex for that," he commented. "I've got some, so if you'll let me…"

 

 Blake nodded. "I'm pretty sure I've got nothing to fear from you," he murmured, "but just for show, make it slow."

 

 The Armorer grinned and reached slowly into one of his capacious pockets before producing a small container of plas-ex.

 

 "Now I think we'd better get back around the corner before we go any further," he said.

 

 Blake nodded and ushered Alien and Jenna back around the bend in the tunnel, followed by the companions, with Downey bringing up the rear. J.B. stayed by the door, attaching a small amount of the plas-ex to the lock and fitting a fuse before running back to join them.

 

 "Down," he shouted, clutching his ears and opening his mouth as the plas-ex blew, taking the protective measure as the explosion was in such a relatively confined space.

 

 The lock had indeed blown, and the door was hanging open, the thick steel buckled by the force of the blast.

 

 "Hot pipe, you made sure there." Dean whistled as he led the way toward the lab.

 

 The baron turned toward Jenna, who was noticeably hanging back. "Well?" he asked. "Why not come with us, if you have nothing to be afraid of?"

 

 He felt a creeping sickness in his head, and closed his eyes against the pain. When he opened them again, scant moments later, he could see the back of his wife as she ran from him. Setting his jaw, already knowing what he would find, the baron turned and strode toward the lab.

 

 As soon as he entered, he could smell the decay and corruption, as though they were tangible.

 

 "It's true…" he whispered to himself.

 

 "THIS IS SICK. I remember the reports about Mengele, and how they always said it couldn't happen again. My daddy always said they were wrong. Jesus Christ, Dad, you were right."

 

 Mildred fought back the tears as she stood over the cots where the hideously mutated results of Jenna's experiments lay. The eyes of the speechless mutie children looked up at her in fear and despair. They had known nothing but hate and pain, but knew that she was a stranger, and may end that pain.

 

 Alien joined her. "There's no hope for these poor souls," he said softly. "We must—"

 

 "I know," Mildred interrupted. "But I can't."

 

 "Then I must. And as her husband I must take responsibility for not knowing."

 

 Alien held out his hand, and Mildred knew what he wanted. She handed him her ZKR.

 

 The baron took the blaster, checked the breech, then put the barrel to the head of the first mutie child.

 

 "Please forgive me," he whispered before pulling the trigger. The noise was intense in the small room.

 

 Alien repeated this with all the children, tears coursing down his face.

 

 When he had finished, Mildred took his arm, and they reentered the main lab. The others were standing there, not knowing what to say to the shattered baron.

 

 Alien looked around at the legacy of his wife.

 

 "Destroy it," he said quietly, giving Mildred back her ZKR. "Destroy it all. Then we find her, and put her on trial."

 

 "I don't think it'll come to that," Ryan said gently. "If she's gone, and so is Harvey, then you're going to have to fight for your ville. 'Cause we're the only ones who have seen this for sure, and there's no telling who'll side with who if the truth isn't yet known."

 

 The baron nodded. "So be it. If it comes to a firefight, then we must be ready. So smash it all, as quickly as possible."

 

 "How?" Downey asked. "You want us to blow it up, mebbe set fire to it? We need to get rid of those chilled experiments, that's for sure. Can't risk disease on top of this."

 

 "Too dangerous down here for grens or firing," J.B. commented. "The best thing would be to shoot up the equipment, and plas-ex that room to bring the ceiling down in there and bury those poor bastards."

 

 "Let it be so," Alien said quietly, striding from the room.

 

 He was joined by everyone except J.B. and Ryan. While the Armorer sprayed the comp and medical equipment with his Uzi, Ryan laid the charnel house of the side room with plas-ex, which he fused and timed.

 

 "Okay, people, let's get the hell away," he said urgently as he and the Armorer exited the lab. They ushered the others down the tunnel and around the corner as the plas-ex detonated in the lab, bringing down the walls and ceiling of the side room, burying the corpses of the experiments.

 

 "Some of those children were from the ville," Alien said quietly. "She and Harvey must have been taking children and experimenting on them."

 

 "How come we never knew?" Blake asked, bemused. "I mean, it ain't that big a place, right?"

 

 "I believe I may be able to offer a possible solution," Doc commented. "The Sunchildren have always taken children that strayed to the outside. What better cover for Jenna and Harvey to abduct children? Then, when they had finished with them, they turned them loose on the outside, where they did, actually, become victims of Samtvogel."

 

 Blake shook his head in disbelief. "I thought I knew that bastard."

 

 "Throughout history, man has had an almost boundless capacity for deception and savagery. There are some things, friend Blake, that never change." Doc pursed his lips, an expression of infinite regret crossing his brow.

 

 "That may be," Ryan said, bringing matters back to a practical level. "What we've got to worry about now is what sort of a reception we're heading back to. Stay triple red, friends."

 

 As if in answer, the sounds of a pitched battle began to reach their ears.

 

  

 

 Chapter Seventeen

 

  

 

 It had taken Harvey only a few moments to melt into the crowd. Despite the doubts voiced, the sec chief had his followers, as did the baron's wife. There were those who had often wondered if the ville would prosper more under a firmer hand. Alien was, in their view, too nice to be a baron. He lacked the ruthless and sadistic streak that kept people in line. People like themselves. And so they had harbored, some openly and some in secret, the view that the steely sec chief and Jenna would make a better team. There was something about Jenna. No one but Harvey knew the extent of her experiments and her evil, but she had an aura that some could sense, and this made them respect and fear her.

 

 And fear was what they wanted. What drove them and led them.

 

 So it was that there were hands to cover them as they both tried to hide themselves in the uproar that followed the exit of Alien, Ryan, the sec men and the companions. Was this just a trick to buy them time, to chill the baron and take control? Or was it true that Jenna and Harvey had contrived to keep such experiments secret?

 

 After the raid on Samtvogel, and coming on top of what had seemed like the sudden and shocking end of years of relatively peaceful consolidation, the confusion among the inhabitants of Raw was immense. In the main hall, people argued and started to get heated, pushing and hitting out. Tempers flared and the temperature was raised.

 

 "Boss, this way, and quick!"

 

 Harvey, grabbing behind him for Jenna's hand and trying to keep her close, heard the voice loud and urgent to his left. Looking up and across, he could see Bodie pushing through the packed mass of humanity, using the butt of his snub-nosed blaster as a club to hammer down on the necks and skulls of those who would block his path. Considering the frayed atmosphere and the confusion, Harvey was more than glad that only his sec force carried, by habit as much as enforcement, blasters on a day-to-day basis. At least no one was going to take a shot at him.

 

 "Let's get the fuck out," he yelled at Bodie. "Regroup, get the boys together."

 

 "They ain't all gonna come with you, boss," Bodie replied.

 

 "Don't matter. That stupe Alien is out of here right now, with Cyclops and his goons. That gives us time to rally those good ol' boys who'll stay the course."

 

 "Okay, boss." Bodie grinned, savage and humorless. "Follow me."

 

 The fat sec man chopped them a path out into the ville. Most of the people inside were too busy fighting one another to try to get out, and those that did found themselves hemmed in by the sec men at the sole entrance. The two men carried longblasters, which they held across their bodies, using the whip-thin barrels as weapons, not wasting ammo as they hit anyone trying to get out.

 

 Anyone, that was, except Bodie, Harvey and Jenna.

 

 "Stay here while I round up our forces," Harvey ordered crisply. "Any sec who go against you, they ain't with us, so chill the fuckers."

 

 The sec men exchanged vaguely puzzled glances.

 

 "Our own?" one of them queried.

 

 Harvey fixed him with a glare. "Son, if they ain't with us, then they're the enemy. Understood?"

 

 Not waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and rapidly sped toward the armory. The first step would be to secure all weapons for his force alone.

 

 ANT AND DEE STOOD in the center of the fray, possibly the only two people calm in the center of the storm.

 

 The dreadlocked twins still carried their battered shotguns, cleaner than at any time in the past but showing the scars of use and misuse. Ant raised his, looking at it with a shadow of regret crossing his face.

 

 "Looks like we're gonna need these again, bro, and sooner than I would have liked."

 

 His twin returned the look, gazing at his own weapon with sadness. "Sure looks so. You reckon that one-eyed dude and his sprog are right, or should we go with Harv?"

 

 Ant gave his twin a look of disbelief mixed with disgust. "You kiddin'? Harv hates anything and anyone except himself and mebbe that weird bitch. Think we've got any chance of a good life with him as big boss?"

 

 Dee laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "Yeah, like fuck."

 

 Ant shrugged. "Then let's get to it, dude."

 

 And with a cry that sounded as one, both twins let out a bloodcurdling shriek, turning in opposite directions, waving their blasters and cutting themselves a swath through the crowd until they reached the exit, where they came up against the twin longblasters blocking their path.

 

 "Where you going, boys?" asked one sec man.

 

 "Who you with?" asked the other, so rapidly the two almost sounded as one.

 

 "What do you think?" Ant asked in an exasperated tone. It was, however, a neutral question. It elicited exactly the kind of response they both wanted.

 

 "I knew you'd be good ol' boys for a pair of blacks and side with us," one sec man said, grinning.

 

 "Yeah, make the new order work," the other added.

 

 Ant and Dee exchanged the briefest of glances before moving as one with a speed like a striking rattler. Their powerful arms pumped, using the stocks of their respective blasters as baseball bats, coming from the level of their elbows in an upward arc that caught each sec man under his chin, jawbones shattering on impact as both sec men crumpled into unconscious heaps, neither having time to respond to the attack.

 

 "Never did like those dudes, bro," Ant said sadly.

 

 "Yeah, even the best of places get insects," his twin replied. "Figure we should find Cawdor and the baron. Reckon Blake and Downey'll be with us, if no one else."

 

 "Yeah, they're good people. But where the fuck were they going?"

 

 Dee grinned. "Shit, you got the one flaw in my plan, dude!"

 

 WITH THE SEC GUARD now rendered ineffective, the fighting in the main hall spilled out into the tunnels and passages of the ville. Men and women who had peacefully coexisted in the enclosed ville all their lives now found that they hardly knew their neighbor at all. Those sec men who were still loyal to Alien tried in vain to calm the crowd and prevent the violence and conflict, but they were outnumbered both by the crowd and those sec men who wanted to stick with Harvey.

 

 It wasn't long before the crowd had separated into two distinct forces, and lines of demarcation were drawn up in the ville as each side took whatever cover it could, using whatever came to hand as weapons to augment the few sec blasters.

 

 It was clear that whoever controlled the armory would win the war. Something Harvey was already attending to…

 

 "HEY, HARV. What the hell are you doing, you rad-blasted gaudy spawn!"

 

 The chief armorer had elected to miss the meeting in the main hall, figuring that her presence wouldn't make much difference. Besides, someone had to clean and stockpile the blasters, grens and plas-ex after the raid on Samtvogel. It would be a lengthy task, and she figured that the sooner she got to it the better. Besides, she'd taken a liking to J.B. Dix, and had the feeling that his people would be hitting trouble. It made her feel uneasy, and she felt happier with complex but inanimate pieces of metal than she did with complex but animate human beings.

 

 She had been in the middle of stripping one of the RPKs when Harvey, Jenna and Bodie burst in on her. It was hard to know who was the more surprised. Harvey had truly believed that everyone was in the main hall, and that he would find the armory empty. The chief armorer had no idea what to make of the sec chief, one of his trusted lieutenants, and the baron's wife bursting in on her, wild-eyed and looking for all the world as though they were about to commit mass murder.

 

 Which, of course, was their very intention,

 

 Harvey stopped dead, staring at her, and then without another word took the Uzi from its wall mounting, grabbed spare ammo from the carefully labeled and stored boxes and tossed it to Jenna.

 

 When he ignored her, she repeated her question. But this time, suspicions aroused that something was very much amiss and that she'd have no choice but to get involved, she left the RPK and reached slowly and stealthily for her own personal blaster, the Springfield Loaded 1911 that she kept secured in the waistband of her old camou pants. They were faded and patched, but she kept them because of the special loop she had sewn into the back. Stitched time and again until it held the Springfield perfectly balanced, it made her pants almost a second skin, and she didn't feel comfortable unless she could feel the Cocobolo grip's texture nesting against the base of her spine.

 

 Her finger snaked around the lightweight match trigger while the palm of her hand flattened against the high hand grip. The flat mainspring housing meant that the blaster nestled into her plump body just about as unobtrusively as it was possible to get, and she was careful to move with a slow and easy motion, so it would appear just as though she were scratching an itch.

 

 Harvey looked at her. "Donna, don't do this," he said slowly and evenly.

 

 "Do what, Harv? And don't fuck with my blasters. They ain't cleaned yet, not all of them."

 

 Harvey smiled despite himself. He had always thought her dedication to the hardware was a little weird, and mebbe she was only pissed at him for messing with it.

 

 In which case he wouldn't have to chill her.

 

 "Listen to me, Donna," he said softly. "The time has come to decide which side you're on."

 

 Her finger was still on the trigger, the grip still nestled into her palm, but she stayed any movement.

 

 "Side, Harv? What sides do you mean? We're one people, right?"

 

 "No, Donna, it ain't that simple anymore. That damned Cyclops, he's got Alien all confused and wantin' to go against how we've always been. If we don't stand up for what we believe, then we're sure as shit gonna be under the one-eyed bastard's thumb. We won't be us anymore. Is that what you want? Or do you want to fight with us?"

 

 The chief armorer narrowed her eyes, trying hard to assimilate all that Harvey had said. Was that what the meeting had been about? But if so, then why would Ryan Cawdor's people want to take control and change things? She thought about their aid in the battle against Samtvogel, and more importantly she thought of J.B. Dix. Mebbe it was just the way the man seemed to be like her with weapons, but she figured that he was good people. It didn't figure…

 

 Donna delayed just that little too long for Jenna's liking. The dark mutie snapped the safety on her blaster, the click sounding loud against the faint background noise that was beginning to permeate the tunnels. Her raven eyes glittered hatred.

 

 "She doesn't believe you, Harvey, and we can't afford to waste time."

 

 She raised the Uzi as though to fire.

 

 It all happened in the same second. Suddenly, intuitively aware of the situation as her instincts broke through her confused thinking, aware only of the Uzi pointed at her, Donna drew the Springfield, snapping off a shot as her hand whipped around her body.

 

 "No!" Harvey yelled, both at the chief armorer and at Jenna. He flung out an arm, snatching the Uzi from Jenna's grasp before she had a chance to pressure the trigger, and simultaneously pushing her from the path of the slug, which bit into the wall of the armory, raising a small cloud of dust.

 

 The crack of the Springfield was echoed a fraction of a second later by the roar of the sec chiefs Colt Magnum Carry, as the snub-nosed blaster spit its .357 load at the seated woman. Drawn as he moved, and aimed low, the slug ripped into Donna's chest cavity and upper abdomen, spreading fatal damage as the slug tore cartilage and splintered bone, ripping bands of muscle and splattering layers of fat, scoring through major organs and causing massive internal hemorrhaging.

 

 In the fraction of a second of life she had left to her, Donna was acutely aware of great pain and a rapidly spreading numbness. Her vision dimmed on the sight of Harvey and the baron's wife about to argue.

 

 She figured that even if she was chilled, arguing like that they wouldn't be far behind her.

 

 The merest flicker of a smile formed her death mask.

 

 Meanwhile, Jenna shot a venomous glance at her erstwhile lover and partner. "What the fuck did you do that for?"

 

 Harvey held his temper. "In the first place, I didn't want you chilled. And in the second, if you let that fucker loose even on controlled bursts in here, you're likely to hit some grens and blow us to hell."

 

 Her temper cooling rapidly as she fought to stay on top of the situation, Jenna was able to see Harvey's point.

 

 "Okay, Harvey. So what's your great tactical plan?" she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

 

 "We've got control of the armory. We get the hardware to this who are with us and keep the rest down, chill 'em if necessary. Then we find Cyclops and Alien and blow them to fuck."

 

 Jenna smiled a slow, evil smile. "That's good, but we need the real whiphand, sweet."

 

 Harvey gave her a puzzled frown. "What's that?"

 

 "You'll see." She called to Bodie. "In here, boy. When we've gone, you get these to our folk, you hear?" she continued as he entered the armory from his sentry post outside. He had ignored the blasterfire, trusting the sec chief to keep things under control.

 

 "Yes, ma'am," the fat sec man replied. "We'll soon have things under control for you."

 

 Harvey was still puzzled. "What's the idea? Where are we going?"

 

 Jenna's evil smile took on an icy edge. "Sweetie, if you want total control of them, you have the total weapon. We need fear to still the opposition, keep them down and under us. Every strong society needs its menials. They stay menial by fear. So why don't you show me where Alien stored that little ol' bomb he got from Sunchild?"

 

 "COMING THIS WAY. Back!" Jak whispered as they came to a crossroads in the tunnels. Ryan had sent the albino on slightly ahead of himself, changing his usual practice to lead the way. It seemed to the one-eyed warrior that Jak's ability to detect direction would be better employed leading until they had some idea of the situation in the center of the ville. In such a maze of passages and tunnels, Jak's ability to pinpoint sounds was a vital weapon.

 

 They had heard the pitched battle commence, and the occasional blasterfire told them that the armory hadn't yet been raided to a full extent. As they were all armed, apart from the baron, this gave them an edge. Ryan handed the baron his SIG-Sauer as a defensive weapon, feeling that Alien would cope better with the handblaster than with the Steyr.

 

 They had advanced this far without a pause, and with hardly a word between them. J.B. kept point as was usual, Downey close to him. Blake was beside Ryan, following hard on Jak's lead. Strung out between them in the narrow tunnel were Krysty, Dean, Alien, Mildred and toward the rear Doc.

 

 At Jak's command, they flattened against the tunnel wall, closing ranks so that they were ready to flank across the narrow space should an enemy round the corner.

 

 But it was no enemy. Voices, indistinct, became clearer as they neared: the breathless voices of the twins.

 

 "Shit, bro, I hope we find them soon."

 

 "Ain't nowhere else to fuckin' go, dude. They've got to be around here somewhere."

 

 "Sure as shit hope so, 'cause I think my lungs are gonna fuckin' burst!"

 

 The twins laughed despite themselves, coughing hard but still keeping the pace.

 

 Ryan and Blake exchanged glances as the footsteps neared. The wizened sec man nodded, agreeing without the question even being voiced.

 

 "Hey, boys," he called, "who you lookin' for?"

 

 The footsteps pulled up short. Ant called, "Shit, Blake, man, where the fuck you been? We've been all over here looking for ya. You got Ryan and his crew with you?"

 

 "Mebbe," the sec man replied cautiously. "What you boys wantin'?"

 

 "You, dude. You gotta get back, man, 'cause all hell's broken loose. Harv and that bitch have got some sort of takeover goin' down, and we need all the help we can get."

 

 Ryan and Blake exchanged glances once more.

 

 "Trust them?" the one-eyed warrior asked.

 

 "With my life. Crazy fuckers, but too crazy to lie if they even wanted to," he replied.

 

 "Good enough for me," Ryan said.

 

 "We're coming out, boys," he called to the twins.

 

 Ryan and Blake stepped out simultaneously into the junction between the corridors, blasters ready as a precaution.

 

 "Whoa, dude, easy!" Ant exclaimed as he and his twin held their shotguns away from their bodies. "I know what one of those fuckers can do, so 'scuse me being nervous," he added, gesturing with his free hand at J.B.'s M-4000, which Ryan had borrowed.

 

 The one-eyed warrior allowed himself a small grin as he lowered the M-4000. "Okay, so fill us in," he said as the rest of his party, including the baron, stepped out into the junction.

 

 The twins explained the situation, keeping it as concise as they could without contradicting each other too often. When they had finished, Ryan turned to the baron.

 

 "Seems to me that most of your sec force want to take their chances with Harvey."

 

 Alien shook his head sadly. "Whatever happens, I can't go on now."

 

 "Worry later. Get Harvey chilled first," Jak snapped pithily, not allowing Alien to slip into self-pity.

 

 "What's the state of play with the armory?" J.B. asked. "Right now, only sec and us have blasters. But if everyone on Harvey's side gets them…" He trailed off, feeling it unnecessary to go on.

 

 Ant shook his head. "I guess he's headed straight for it, but the problem the dude's got is that our side is between the armory and his side, ya know?"

 

 "Then he'll need another tool to bargain with," Ryan stated flatly.

 

 "By the Three Kennedys," Doc whispered, "he wouldn't."

 

 Mildred caught Doc's inference. "He might not, but I bet she would."

 

 Alien looked at them blankly. He was a broken man, and unable to focus on events.

 

 Ryan, on the other hand, had clicked into combat mode, and his mind was racing.

 

 He turned to Blake. "You take Downey and Alien and head for the center. Take Jak and Dean with you. They're good fighters, and you may need them."

 

 The sec man nodded, glad that he would have Jak by his side. "And you?" he asked.

 

 "We're going after Harvey and Jenna. Reckon they've gone for the nuke. You with us, boys?" he asked the twins.

 

 "Bet your ass," Ant replied.

 

 "Yeah, and whip that sorry mother Harv's ass," his twin added.

 

 With a brief farewell, the two forces parted company, both headed for what they knew to be the final showdown.

 

  

 

 Chapter Eighteen

 

  

 

 The area where the nuke was being stored was deserted. Alien had felt it unnecessary to mount a guard while he had the ville meeting, and Harvey had been only too pleased to go along with that, wanting all his people concentrated.

 

 One thing he hadn't foreseen was the willingness with which Jenna would turn to the nuke as a bargaining tool.

 

 There was an almost eerie quiet about this part of the ville. Away from the pitched battle, and on the other side of the tunnel and passage complex to where her lab was located, Jenna was certain that they would be left in peace until she had worked out how to arm the bomb.

 

 "Are you sure about this?" Harvey asked her as she opened a panel on the garishly painted side of the nuke, near the nose cone.

 

 "In what way?" she replied calmly, partly as a result of her preoccupation and partly because she felt the power within her grasp, and the self-confidence that engendered. "What's the problem, sweetie? Until I've actually examined this, I don't know for sure if it's even armed."

 

 "But what if it is?"

 

 She looked at him with an expression of complete calm that froze his blood. "Then if it is, I set it going."

 

 "Another nukecaust?" Harvey queried, unable to keep the quaver from his voice.

 

 Jenna laughed, harsh and cold. "Of course not, you cretin. I set it going, and then turn it off on the failsafe when my idiot husband and the one-eyed fool have acquiesced to us. For fuck's sake, you don't think I'd be doing this if I couldn't stop it?"

 

 "Yeah? How can I be so sure you even know how to get it going properly?"

 

 "You know I can. You know I have the learning. After all, if you really thought I couldn't set it running, you wouldn't be shitting yourself right now, would you?"

 

 Harvey didn't answer. She was right.

 

 Jenna turned her attention away from her lover and fully to the nuke. The old comp circuits were still in operation, and using codes she had learned from books and papers taken by her forefathers from the redoubt, she punched in a series of commands that told her that the nuke was armed and ready. She set the timer and punched in a sec code so that only she could turn it off. It was a sec code set by the original programmer of the missile from the redoubt, and was a name the like of which she didn't recognize, but had memorized earlier.

 

 "There." She smiled, standing back from the gaily colored instrument of destruction. "That's done."

 

 "Good," Harvey breathed. "Can we get the fuck out of here now?"

 

 "Of course we can. We've got another little battle to win. I wonder how your people are doing right now?" she asked, shrugging the Uzi off her shoulder and flicking the safety catch, switching the firing mechanism to short bursts.

 

 "Only one way to find out. Let's get the hell back," Harvey muttered, leading them away from the nuke and back toward the center of the ville.

 

 IN THE CENTER, the battle had reached stalemate. Those sec men and ville dwellers who had sided with Alien were blocking the route to the armory. Although they outnumbered the opposition, they had fewer sec men on their side, and so had fewer blasters, which evened things up.

 

 The battle had died down to a war of attrition, with both sides adopting a siege mentality. The occasional shot was fired, the occasional seized object thrown over the hastily erected barricades. But there was a general tense silence.

 

 Into which arrived Blake, Downey, Jak and Dean, with Alien close behind them.

 

 Rankine was one of the few sec men who had aligned himself with the baron, and he had assumed command for want of anyone else. However, he was at a loss how to break the deadlock, and the relief on his face was evident when Blake and Jak picked their way through the line to arrive at the front of the barricade.

 

 "Thank fuck you're here," he said gladly.

 

 "Where are the rest of you?" he added, speaking to Jak.

 

 "After Harvey. Never mind. Get this finished," the albino said shortly. "Alien not happy."

 

 "Yeah, his heart ain't in it," Blake chipped in, speaking softly. The other ville dwellers on the barricade had spotted their baron, and the atmosphere had noticeably lifted at the sight of the big man. "Listen, we need to act before it becomes obvious and has a bad effect. What's the score?"

 

 Rankine filled them in on the details, and Blake listened carefully. "Okay," he began when Rankine finished, "the first thing is to get people armed. Have you raided the armory yet? No, obviously not," he said, spotting the furrowed brow on his fellow sec man. "Get some people back there. Meanwhile, I think we need to do some scouting. How much hardware do we have right now?"

 

 Rankine made a quick head count. "We got eight sec here, so eight blasters—nine including me."

 

 Dean had made his way forward with Downey. Blake turned to him.

 

 "Whaddaya say, kid? Covering fire from the marksman here and a few of the boys while you, me and Jak make a little scouting foray?"

 

 Dean took a look over the barricade. The lines had been drawn in the main stretch of the tunnel at the center of the ville, with a distance of two hundred yards between the two barricades. Not a lot of room to play with, but with plenty of cover in the shape of empty units and overturned barrows.

 

 "More than scouting. I reckon we could make a bridgehead out there. Think so, Jak?"

 

 The albino nodded. "Enough cover if you give enough cover to make it," he said to Rankine and Downey. "Get blaster from armory triple quick and we got them. Get grens mebbe."

 

 Downey shook his head. "Risky down here. Better if we can avoid it."

 

 Jak nodded. "Make sure you sharpshooter."

 

 Blake called two sec men over and ordered them to accompany a party of ville dwellers to the armory and return with blasters. While they assembled the small party and headed off, he directed two more to join Rankine and Downey in laying down covering fire. Meanwhile, Jak and Dean made note of the best cover, both for themselves and for Blake.

 

 The wizened sec man turned to them, his face set in stone. "Okay, ready from my end. You?"

 

 Jak nodded. "We head there and there—" he indicated two positions of cover. "—and you there," he added, pointing to the easiest spot.

 

 Blake smiled appreciatively. "You trying to tell me something?" he said simply before turning to the four marksmen. "Okay, guys, now or never…"

 

 The four marksmen assumed positions along the barricade and started to lay down a barrage of covering fire.

 

 "Hot pipe, this better work," Dean shouted, as much to himself as to Jak and Blake, as the three clambered over the barricade and began their zigzagging run for cover.

 

 IT WAS a long haul across the ville from where Ant and Dee had met Ryan's party to where the nuke was stored, and the one-eyed warrior pushed the pace at which they crossed the distance. All the time, he was aware that Doc was the weak link, but he wanted the old man on hand when they reached the nuke. If it had been set running, then Doc's knowledge of pre-dark tech, as sketchy and clouded as it was, may prove useful. Mildred knew more about comps per se, but she hadn't had the firsthand experience of the Totality Concept that Doc had. That might make all the difference.

 

 They had to circumvent the tunnels and passages, avoiding the strife-torn center, and that made their task all the more difficult. Ryan cursed with almost every step he took, the twins keeping pace with him. Krysty followed close behind. Mildred and J.B. hung back a little more, assisting Doc to keep pace.

 

 "Go on ahead," he puffed, moving as fast as he could. "I swear by all that is holy that I shall not be far behind. Besides, you may have to chill a path to the nuke that will take time."

 

 Ryan assented with a gesture, and in company with the twins and Krysty, he increased his pace, allowing Mildred and J.B. to stay with Doc. The old man was right. He could assume that only Jenna and Harvey were with the missile, but they may have others with them. If so, it may take valuable time to dig them out before trying to shut off the nuke.

 

 "Down here, shortcut," Dee puffed, swerving down a smaller tunnel.

 

 "But be careful at the end," his twin added. "It brings us out on a sharp turn. Take it easy."

 

 It was advice that Dee would have done well to heed. At the moment he reached the end of the small tunnel, and stumbled around the blind corner, he came straight out on Harvey and Jenna, who were making their way back toward the barricades in the center. Like the twins, Harvey had decided to utilize the shortcut.

 

 The dreadlocked giant stumbled as he cornered, and crashed to one knee, momentarily losing his grip on his shotgun. It was a vital fraction of a second before he looked up…directly into the barrel of Harvey's Colt Magnum Carry.

 

 It was difficult to know who was more surprised by the encounter, the dreadlocked twin or the sec chief, both stopped dead in their tracks. For one absurd moment they were frozen. Then Jenna's shrill voice rent the air.

 

 "Chill the fucker!"

 

 Harvey didn't think. The voice made him jolt, his finger tightening and squeezing on the trigger as the twin began to raise the shotgun.

 

 The explosion from the snub-nosed blaster was deafening in the enclosed space, and the impact at such close range blew Dee backward into the mouth of the smaller passageway, where his already dead body cannoned into his brother.

 

 "No!" It was an anguished yell from Ant as he saw what had happened. Without pause he pushed past the inert form and out into the larger passage.

 

 Jenna, leaving Harvey to deal with things, had already brushed past him and was heading in the opposite direction without a backward glance. Harvey, stunned, looked after her. Things had happened just that bit too fast for him to react. He was still looking as Ant emerged.

 

 Stupidly, Harvey turned his head back in time to see the twin bear down on him, spattered with the blood of his brother. His shotgun was raised. Harvey's own blaster was at a lowered angle, and in the fraction of a second it took him to bring it up, the dreadlocked sec man was on him, his shotgun rammed up against Harvey's throat.

 

 "You chilled my brother, you fuck. Now it's your turn," he yelled as he squeezed the Smith & Wesson shotgun's trigger, the blast shaking him as the recoil and impact was contained between his own body and that of the sec chief.

 

 The blast was enough to actually sever Harvey's head from his body, the bone and flesh of his throat and neck disintegrating under the charge. His nervous system spasmed in shock as it lost contact with his brain, and his finger squeezed again. The Colt Magnum Carry avenged his chilling by discharging into Ant's stomach before he had a chance to move away from the sec chief.

 

 His scream of agony was high-pitched and despairing as he lost his own life in avenging the loss of his twin's.

 

 Ryan emerged, taking in the carnage in one swift glance, also noting the retreating Jenna. He turned to follow, but was stayed by Krysty's hand on his arm.

 

 "Leave her to me, lover," she said rapidly. "I can deal with her tricks. You get the nuke."

 

 Ryan agreed, but even as he did, the titian-haired beauty was already speeding off in pursuit of Jenna, her blaster poised as she ran, already making up ground.

 

 One thing was for sure—there was no one else now between them and the nuke. He looked back to where Doc, Mildred and J.B. were approaching.

 

 "Hurry, people," he called. "We've got a clear run, but who knows how much time."

 

 DEAN, JAK AND BLAKE had assumed their initial positions of cover, returning fire from the barricade and moving forward by degrees as the covering fire from behind drove the opposition down.

 

 "How many they got?" Dean shouted to Blake.

 

 "No more than a dozen blasters, most of 'em probably low on ammo now," Blake replied.

 

 "Draw now," Jak called to Dean on hearing that.

 

 The younger Cawdor knew exactly what the albino meant. He left cover and headed for an overturned barrow, deliberately slowing for a fraction of a second to show himself more clearly before executing a dive into cover. That fraction of a second drew three tempted marksmen into the open, showing themselves above the barricade.

 

 Jak had been waiting for it. As the three men rose, so, too, did the albino with three leaf-bladed knives in his hand. In one fluid motion, the knives left his hand, flying with uncanny accuracy to their targets.

 

 "Only nine now," he called as he took cover again.

 

 On the other side of the opposition barricade, ville dwellers started to melt away into the units as much as possible, leaving only the sec men standing, firing back, hopelessly outnumbered and certain to be chilled.

 

 The nine men exchanged glances. There was only one option.

 

 Shouting to spur themselves on and try to work up a frenzy, the suicidal sec men mounted their barricade, firing at random.

 

 The volley of blasterfire that tore into them ended the conflict in a matter of seconds. All caliber of shot tore into them, cutting them down before they were even over the barricades.

 

 "Stop!" Blake yelled. The noise was so great he had to repeat himself several times before the noise ceased, and the suddenly silent air was filled with the spent smell of burned cordite.

 

 "Guess it's over," he said quietly.

 

 JENNA WAS GASPING heavily for breath. The slim, small mutie woman had never had much time for building her strength and stamina, and even the relatively light weight of the Uzi was slowing her. She threw it away as she ran, hearing it clatter to the floor behind her. She didn't need a blaster, she was confident of other abilities to save herself.

 

 Turning into a side corridor, she took shelter in a sleeping unit, throwing the curtain back and leaning heavily against a wall, trying desperately to catch her breath.

 

 Krysty saw Jenna throw away the blaster and made herself ready as she, too, turned into the side corridor, slowing to a halt as she tried to determine which unit the woman had hidden herself in. Krysty gripped her blaster with both hands, knowing she would need to have a steady grip before this encounter was over.

 

 She walked slowly down the corridor, glancing from side to side.

 

 "Here," she heard from behind her. Turning slowly, she saw Jenna standing by the entrance to one unit. She looked small and vulnerable until Krysty looked into those raven eyes. The whole world seemed to disappear.

 

 Krysty raised her blaster and prepared to fire.

 

 "You know you won't," Jenna said in those soft, sibilant tones.

 

 Krysty felt the tendrils of darkness snake out and start to encircle her mind. The wave of nausea started in her gut, her ears blasted by the blow to her equilibrium. She fought to stay on her feet, to keep the darkness at bay.

 

 Her hands trembled. She felt the urge to turn the weapon on herself. She gritted her teeth, grinding them to keep herself focused.

 

 "You know you won't," Jenna repeated.

 

 "IT'S ARMED, all right. And running."

 

 Ryan stood over the nuke, feeling as helpless as a child. He looked at J.B., who was scratching his head. The Armorer pushed his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose.

 

 "Dark night," he cursed softly, shaking his head, "Arms I know, but it's the comp on this that stops me. I just hope Doc and Millie can sort it out."

 

 The two doctors stood over the incongruously painted nuke, examining the panel.

 

 "There must be a series of codes that program it, and so there must be a series that deprogram, right?" Mildred asked.

 

 Doc nodded briskly. "I believe I saw something like this in one of the files I was privy to study. Usually, it is a combination of letters and numbers that relate to those on the actual cone itself. Probably to trigger an association in an emergency—much like this one, but not perhaps under the same bizarre circumstances." He favored her with a ghoulish smile.

 

 "Spare me the gallows humor, Doc. At least until this mother's stopped ticking," she said.

 

 "Very well. Although to be pedantic, it cannot be said to actually tick. Now, if we can just scrape some of this paint from the cone," he added, tapping a section of the nose cone with his swordstick.

 

 J.B. stepped forward and began to scrape the top layer of paint away with his Tekna. "Is this safe?" he asked.

 

 "Well, if we don't try, it will go off anyway," Doc replied cheerfully.

 

 "That makes me feel so much better," the Armorer told him.

 

 "Fireblast! This is so slow," Ryan muttered, watching the countdown continue on the LED.

 

 "Patience, friend Ryan, patience," Doc murmured distractedly as the numbers came to light. He punched in a corresponding series, but nothing happened.

 

 "It's still going," J.B. said.

 

 "Obviously," Doc replied without the slightest sign of urgency. "There is a fail-safe backup I cannot enter, something only the programmer would know."

 

 "What?" Mildred exploded. "But you didn't mention that before, you stupid old buzzard. How the hell are we supposed to know that?"

 

 "Well, my dear Dr. Wyeth, I would deduce that the programmer was someone in the redoubt we arrived in…and it would be something personal. A name perhaps, six letters, and no more. They were all six-letter codes…"

 

 Mildred's mind raced. "Have you got any ideas?" she said, making it a general question.

 

 "Frankly, no," Doc said sadly, while Ryan and J.B. just looked blank. For them, it could be anything.

 

 But inspiration suddenly hit Mildred.

 

 "It's our only chance, but it's a long shot," she stated, tapping in six letters.

 

 The LED flashed, the figures frozen. Then, with a beep, it turned itself off.

 

 "What the hell did you tell it?" J.B. asked her with a mixture of awe and admiration in his voice.

 

 "I just put in the name Garcia." She smiled. Then, seeing their blank expressions, she laughed aloud. "It was just something on one of the posters from the redoubt… I'll explain it sometime. Let's just say you'll be grateful when you're dead."

 

 "I very much doubt it," Doc said, bewildered.

 

 THROUGH THE BLACKNESS and confusion, a wave of strength hit Krysty. Somehow, she had picked up on her friends and the wave of relief from them. It gave her strength, and within her mind she saw her mother back in Harmony, telling her about the power that could be wielded by those who worked together for a common good. It wasn't a power that could be measured like blasters or grens, but it had its own strength.

 

 A strength that, for one moment, allowed her mind to clear from Jenna's influence.

 

 Krysty's hands were twisted awkwardly and painfully toward her own body, pointing the blaster at herself. She straightened them, so that the blaster was pointed directly at Jenna.

 

 The baron's wife realized that she had momentarily lost her grip on her adversary. In that second, fear entered those glittering black eyes.

 

 It was all the relief that Krysty needed. She squeezed the trigger, and let fly a shot that entered Jenna's forehead neatly between her eyes, puncturing a small entry wound and a larger exit wound that took a large chunk out of her skull, pulping brain tissue as it did so.

 

 The glittering raven eyes dulled and died.

 

 Krysty, drained of all energy, fainted.

 

 She was still unconscious when Jak and Dean found her some minutes later.

 

  

 

 Epilogue

 

  

 

 It took several days for Blake—the new sec chief— to set straight the mess that Raw had become. The chilled bodies had to be disposed of, and those ville dwellers who had sided with Harvey had to be searched out. Those who didn't recant on their decision were to be exiled. Needless to say, all of them swore to be loyal to Alien. Blake wasn't so stupe as to believe them out of hand, and so established a list of those citizens who needed to be watched.

 

 "Things will never be the same," he said sadly.

 

 And they wouldn't be. Alien was a shadow of his former self. The knowledge of his wife's betrayal, and the depth of her depravity, had severely dented his belief in his ability to rule, and it would take him time to rebuild his barony. He attended the cremation of Jenna supported by Doc.

 

 J.B. helped the Armorers set the armory straight, Mildred assisted the medical staff of the ville, and Ryan and Jak sat in with Blake as he attempted to build a new structure to the ville that took account of what had happened, but didn't stray too far from the precepts of Alien and his ancestors—the precepts in which Blake also believed.

 

 Krysty took the entire period to recover from the psychic attack she had endured before chilling Jenna. Although she hadn't drawn on the Gaia power that aided her in times of great physical demand, she felt as though she had. She tired easily, ached all over and felt as though she could sleep all day. Eventually, she was well enough for them to leave.

 

 BLAKE ACCOMPANIED THEM to the exit that led out to the forest. Alien wouldn't go with them, wouldn't even acknowledge that they were leaving.

 

 As they stood on the threshold of the ville, the new sec chief grasped Jak by the arm.

 

 "I'm sorry to see you go," he said quietly. "I need all the good people I can get, and you're good people. If you ever come back this way…"

 

 "Mebbe. Mebbe not wander some day," Jak replied, knowing that in some ways he would always be searching.

 

 Blake watched them as they marched through the forest until they were out of sight, then returned to his own battle.

 

 J.B. SIGHTED THROUGH his minisextant and took their direction. They were on the edge of the forest, back on the road out of old Seattle toward the valley of Samtvogel.

 

 "Which way shall we head?" he asked Ryan.

 

 "Can't go back to the redoubt and jump," the one-eyed warrior mused. "No way of getting back in there."

 

 "Could follow the blacktop north," J.B. said.

 

 "Mebbe find stupes with lasers," Jak added.

 

 "That would be most interesting, always assuming they do not just want to chill us," Doc said wryly.

 

 Krysty noticed that Ryan was staring at the horizon.

 

 "What do you say, lover? Think they could be the key?"

 

 "To the promised land?" he replied. "Mebbe. I feel like we've been cheated somehow, like we could have learned more in Raw if Jenna hadn't been a crazie. If the Illuminated Ones are still out there, still living apart from the rest of us, we could have mebbe learned something about them that would have taken us away from this."

 

 "Maybe we still will," Mildred said softly. "But not out here. If there are any answers—and perhaps we're getting closer to finding that Erewhon—then we need to get to shelter before the sun goes down."

 

 Ryan smiled. "Fireblast, I should be that smart, not just leave it to you. Let's head north toward the nearest redoubt."

 

 J.B. sighted in his minisextant, plotting a course north that took them past old Seattle and up toward the old predark borders. Up toward the lands where the Illuminated Ones and the promised land were said to be.