by James Axler
This had to be J.B. Jak came out of shadows and made the ground swiftly, coming up to the shuttered window opening. There was a low, muttered conversation within, and as he came within earshot he could make out two voices. One of which was more than familiar to him. A grin spread across the impassive white visage, despite the words he could make out.
“Curtis must have some idea of what it is,” a man’s voice said, unmistakably that of the Armorer.
“—not saying, at least not to me. But if another sector wants you—”
“Then it’s a way out of here, mebbe to a place where I can find the others.”
“You shouldn’t be thinking that way. There’s something you have to consider. This sector is full of the infirm, the old, the misfit and the misbegotten. There’s a reason for that.”
“I know,” he said after a pause. “But if that’s what it’s to be, then I’ll just have to deal with it.”
Jak had been listening at the shuttered window space. There was a faint light from within that had only been illuminated once the woman was inside. It was now casting a glow around the ragged edges of the shutter. There wasn’t enough of a gap for him to put his eye to it and see in; regardless, he had a spatial awareness of what was going on inside from the way that the sound moved.
His grin widened, and he stepped back. While J.B. had been speaking, the position of his voice had changed, and there was the slightest of sounds that was almost hidden by the words, but bespoke of a movement that was all too familiar.
So it was that he wasn’t taken by surprise when the shutter was flung outward, and by the illumination of a shaded lamp within he found himself staring into the face of both the Armorer and the mini-Uzi, its snubbed nose leveled on his forehead. The expression on J.B.’s face was something the albino youth could privately treasure, just as he had those of Mildred and Doc.
“Don’t waste ammo,” Jak said before staring at J.B.’s battered face and adding, “What happen you? Looks like lost fight with armored wag.”
For a fraction of a second, J.B. was openmouthed. Then, without a word, he moved to the door and ushered Jak inside. Words tumbled over themselves as he asked how and why; Jak told him quickly of everything he had seen and learned over the past few nights, before returning the question. J.B. told him of the beating he had taken.
“Lucky the people here have no idea of how to fight. For me, not them. The numbers did this to me. Any normal ville, and I’d have bought the farm. Martha patched me up, and has turned a few of the people here around.” He indicated the old woman, who nodded a greeting to Jak.
“You’re a pretty sharp boy,” she said, eyeing him shrewdly. “I knew there was someone there, but damned if I could find you. Say so myself, but I’m sharp enough—hell, compared to most here that ain’t saying much—still couldn’t place you, though.”
“Survival,” Jak said flatly. “Do anything for that. Right?” His gaze met hers. She knew then that he had seen her earlier. He could read the relief on her face when he continued without saying anything more. “Need move quick. Find Ryan and Krysty, then get out.”
J.B. shook his head. “Can’t. No matter what happens to me in the next twenty-four. Sun will be up in the next few hours, and no way we can get Mildred and Doc from where you say, find Ryan and Krysty and then get to cover in that time. Best thing you can do is use the next couple of nights to round them up and track where I am.”
“What if end up in Andower’s labs?” Jak questioned, barely able to keep his contempt under control as he uttered the whitecoat’s name.
J.B. drew a deep breath. “Well, just a chance I’ll have to take. Better that most of us get out in one piece than we all go down.”
“Ryan not agree,” Jak returned. “Or Mildred. Or me. Or—”
“Okay, I get the point,” J.B. interrupted, “but I can’t call it any other way.”
Martha had been listening carefully. “There might be another way,” she said slowly. Then, when they were both looking at her questioningly she added, “The rebel group you were talking about. I know where they are.”
“Why didn’t you say this before?” J.B. questioned.
She looked away, unable to meet his eye. “I knew you’d want to go to them. You weren’t ready…needed to recover from those injuries.”
“They’re not that bad,” he said gently.
She shook her head. “Mebbe it’s not that. You’ve seen what it’s like here. Mebbe it was just good to have someone to talk to who wasn’t a complete stupe. And I’m too old, too tired and just plain too scared to join up with the rebels.”
“So how you know where they are?” Jak asked.
Martha shrugged. “You know I like to move about here, be free. Or at least pretend I’m free. I see them, and I see where they move their camp. Don’t talk to them, and make sure they don’t see me. Just don’t want to get involved.”
“But if you show us where they are, you’re getting involved now,” J.B. murmured gently. “You sure about this?”
She snorted. “Hell, no. But mebbe I’ve got a reason to get involved. If they take you to the house of pain that the whitecoat sector runs, then how could I live with myself if I just let you go?”
J.B. nodded. “Let’s do this, then. I figure that mebbe I know what this is taking, and I appreciate it.”
She grinned lopsidedly and tickled behind the ear of her mangy dog. “Let’s go then, before my nerve goes.”
The night outside was still and quiet as J.B. extinguished the lamp and the three of them left the shanty. Martha led them quickly through the maze of dirt tracks, pausing only when a sec patrol became distantly audible. They detoured and took shelter behind a row of tumbledown huts as a three-man patrol ambled by, almost disinterested in what was around them. J.B. felt they could have been standing in plain view, and the sec men wouldn’t have seen them. When they were out of sight, and the three had started off once more in the opposite direction, he voiced his disbelief.
“You were right about Schweiz, Jak. No sec chief with any real idea would stand for that kind of shit.”
“If they’re that bad, what does that make those of us who won’t stand up them?” Martha asked of him. “Mebbe the same kind of learning that makes us like this makes them that way, too.”
J.B. pondered this. “That could be to our advantage…all of us,” he added.
They were now past the shanties and out into the undergrowth. Martha led them surefootedly through the mangrove until they could hear distant sounds of combat. Jak and J.B. exchanged glances: it was hand-to-hand, but was intermittent. There was also something familiar about it.
In a few short moments they were at the edge of a clearing, where a sight greeted them that gladdened the heart. A group of rebels was gathered in a circle, watching the fighting in their midst. As the three intruders emerged, they spun, hands reaching for blasters. The circle broke open, revealing four figures in the middle. Two of them were all too familiar.
Jak’s face broke into a grin for the second time that night, a grin of relief as much as amusement.
“Hey, Ryan, teach these rebels fight, but better teach ’em triple red, first!” he exclaimed.
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Ignoring the bristling rebels, who were momentarily in confusion at this intrusion, Ryan and Krysty broke through the ranks to greet Jak and the Armorer. They were curious as to what had happened to Doc and Mildred, and Jak swiftly filled them in on his activities, and the contact he had made with Mildred and Doc a short while before. He finished by telling how he had chanced on J.B., before the Armorer took over, detailing both what had already happened, and what was likely to happen to him within the next twenty-four hours.
“Fireblast and fuck,” Ryan cursed. “I was hoping that we’d have more time than that, but I guess it’s not going to happen that way.”
He and Krysty outlined how they had come to be in the rebel camp. The truth was—and Ryan had no co
mpunction in being brutally blunt in front of their newfound allies—that the rebels weren’t in good shape. Because of the nature of the sector system, they had little idea of tactics or strategy, and no practical experience of combat. It had only been a few nights that Ryan and Krysty had been here, and although the rebels were willing to learn and were quick on the uptake, there was a hell of a lot of ground to make up before they could face armed sec.
“Not sure about that,” Jak spit pithily before detailing the slack and well-worn habits that he had seen.
“Might just balance things a little,” Ryan murmured. “It gives us a better chance, but—”
“Not much of one if no one in the ville decides to fight back. Just us and a few rebels?” Krysty added.
Martha, who had been listening up to this point but had been unwilling to give voice, glanced nervously at J.B. before speaking. Her voice trembled slightly, betraying her nerves.
“We—if I’m going to speak I might as well for all of the people like me who haven’t had the guts to escape—might just find some of that strength if we could see that there were others fighting. And mebbe if that occupied the sec and we didn’t look like we were going to get blasted at the first chance.”
“You say you haven’t got guts,” J.B. said, turning to her, “but you led me and Jak here. You knew the rebels might shoot first and ask who we were after, but that didn’t stop you.”
“But that’s these guys,” she answered, gesturing to the gathered rebel force. “They’re not the sec. They’re not under Arcadian.”
“But they are just men,” J.B. answered her. “More than that, they’re men who haven’t had to really do the job for a long time because of the way the baron makes you all feel. If they were any damn good, you think that you could move about like you do? You think that Jak could have found out what he did, and seen what he’d told us about?”
“I guess not. But—”
“No,” J.B. interrupted, “they’ve ruled you for so long because you were scared. No need for that now. You want to break out? Now is probably the only option you’ll have. Because if we go up against the sec and lose, then they’ll be much stronger and come down harder in the future.”
She considered that for a moment. When she answered, it was obvious that she still had some trepidation. “I guess you’re right. Facing it ain’t easy, though, and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to get people in our sector to do anything.”
“Just have to face that one when it comes,” J.B. said. “Which might be sooner rather than later.” He turned to Ryan and Krysty. “I figure it’s going to happen in the morning. No matter what it actually is. I’m guessing it’s Andower, but I might get lucky.”
“Hope so,” Ryan said.
He looked at Martha. “You’re our link, you realize that? The only way we can know immediately if anything happens is if you come to us. Can you do that?”
She was trembling even as she thought about it, but one look at J.B. reminded her why she had come this far. “Yeah. I can. I have to, I guess.”
J.B. embraced her. “It’ll be all right. If I make it hard for them, then I can tie up the sec, make it easier for you to slip out here.”
“We’ll be ready. Right?” Ryan questioned the rebels around him. There was no such fear from them. This chance was what they had been waiting for.
“What about Millie and Doc. And you, Jak?” Krysty asked.
Jak shrugged. “Easy move in darkness. Daylight be problem but know ville better now—and vids. Figure mebbe J.B. makes trouble, then sec need pull out position. Not all sectors have anyway. Move where I am, then I find way out dark or light.”
Ryan nodded. “Then that’s the way it’ll have to be. I’m not totally happy—there are too many places where it could break down—but I guess it’s all we’ve got at such notice.”
“We’ve been in worse,” J.B. said with a wry grin, “or at least, you have. Not sure about me, but I’ll take my chances.”
Ryan grunted. “We’ll give you every chance we can make,” he said shortly. His sense of responsibility didn’t sit easily with J.B. being directly on the firing line, and not himself. “You can always join the rebels. We could, too,” he added, indicating Krysty.
J.B. shook his head. “No. This way we get the spark needed to fire it up a little. Besides, there’s Millie and Doc. If we don’t go back tonight, then Arcadian will take his anger out on them. And we couldn’t do a thing.”
“You’re right,” Ryan said softly. “Guess this is the only way.” He looked at the lightening skies above them. “We should split up now, and get ready for the day ahead. It’s going to be a bastard.”
J.B. barked a bitter laugh. “You can say that again.”
THE LAST FEW HOURS of darkness passed uneasily for the Armorer. He was tense, knowing what was to come, but powerless to act until the first move against him had been made. Every fiber of his being told him to make a preemptive strike. He had weapons, and it would have been simple to leap in ahead of the baron’s men and force their hand. Yet the plan, such as it was, relied on his being taken as the catalyst.
He paced the dirt floor of his shanty, cursing to himself, willing the sun to rise faster. He knew that he should sleep, yet no rest would come to his restless mind. Martha waited for him. She sat on the dirt floor, the dog asleep across her knees while she gently stroked his mangy hide. Like her, the dog was a misfit who had seen his best days retreat behind him at speed. He didn’t have much to look forward to except her comforting him. In the same way, she felt she had nothing to look forward to except the comfort of keeping out of trouble.
Or at least, that had been how she had felt until she had met J.B. Was it the last fall stirrings of lust, or perhaps a deeper emotion? Or was it that she saw in the Armorer something of how she had been when her body had first started to fail her, and she had been sent to this sector? She had said nothing to him, as she was now ashamed of her association with Andower and his experiments. But once she had been a research chemist on plant cell stimulation. The reason she knew the mangrove so well was because she had been responsible for much of the modified plant life within, and the planning of the germination. That had been before her hands had started to knit with arthritis, and accidents in the lab had made her dispensable. Back then she had closed her mind to the experimentation outside her own sphere. Coming to live in this sector, and how she was forced to survive here, made her more than aware of the human cost.
And now there was a way out. She was terrified. But that nagging conscience would let her do nothing else.
Light crept through the shutters. Still she watched him pace up and down, wondering if she should explain to him why she couldn’t let him down, even though it may make him view her in a different way.
No. None of that mattered. Only that she play her part, and he play his.
Light flooded the room as J.B. pulled back the shutters. He turned to her.
“Won’t be long now. You know what to do.”
She nodded. “Wait for them to come. See where they take you. Then get the hell out of there and head for the rebels.”
“Exactly.”
“But what about your friends? And Jak?”
“They’re looking for signs. Jak’s in a heavily patrolled sector. He’ll see any movement. And I’ll make sure there will be.”
She stood up slowly and painfully, moving the dog as it opened one questioning eye.
“You be careful,” she said simply, standing in front of him.
He smiled slowly. “I won’t take any more risks than are necessary,” he answered.
She shook her head. “That’s no kind of an answer. But the only one, I guess.” She kissed him gently on the cheek before beckoning the dog to follow in her wake as she walked out into the morning. She didn’t want to look back because of the tears misting her vision.
J.B. watched her go, wondering what motivated her. She had been kindness personified to him since he had arrive
d, yet she seemed to want or ask nothing of him. Around her, the sector slowly came to life. The few people passing greeted him in their way. He was accepted here, and that, too, was down to her.
He knew without question that he would never know. There wouldn’t be time.
He turned back into the hut. His bags with grens and ammo were there. His knife and the mini-Uzi were primed. He could just start a firefight and hope for the best. No, they would just blast the hell out of him and that would be it. If any revolt were to spread, then he had to be seen traveling through sectors, and he had to make a stand at a position where he could make the maximum impact, and so draw the most sec to him.
Now he just had to hope that they would be so naive as to let him take his weapons with him. They had been so far, relying on numbers. He had to give them no grounds to suspect that he would fight back.
So it was that when a sec party of five approached his shanty, he was ready, his face fixed in a mask of impassivity.
The party, watched by a curious and gathering crowd of sector dwellers, halted outside the shanty, and one of them detached himself.
“Dix, you know why we’re here?”
“Not exactly,” J.B. said, appearing in the doorway with his bags already slung across him, the knife and the blaster secreted where they were hidden but easily accessible. He had no wish to remind the sec of their presence. He added, “I just know that I got word I was moving to another sector.”
“Something like that. It’s time for you to move on to where you can be of some use,” the sec man said without a trace of irony.
“Where?” J.B. asked. He could see Martha and her dog lurking on the fringe of the crowd, and was hoping that this opening would give him an opportunity to get word to her on where as much as when.
“Somewhere you’ll be more useful,” the sec man reiterated with an annoying lack of clarity. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just come with us.”
J.B. nodded, and fell in with the sec crew without another word. Through the crowd, he could see Martha turn away, moving furtively into an alley between two shanties that saw her disappear from view, the mangy dog trotting at her heels. In his thoughts, he wished her luck and speed in reaching her destination. The sooner the rebels knew that it had begun, the better it would be.
