“I was waiting for data, just coming in. I sent a low-flying probe to look for the gravimetric anomalies that Aida had found. Looks like there are a number of them and they are being plotted now.”
“What kind of anomalies? Metal deposits?”
“Quite the opposite. Caverns below the ground.”
“It figures. Over and out. At least we now know where the artifact is.”
“Where?” Floyd asked, since he had only heard my side of the conversation.
“Underground. There are caves or caverns of some kind up ahead. Nothing visible on the surface—but they are there all right. Our technical observers seem sure that the artifact is down there somewhere. Can we take that break now and wait for the reports?”
“I guess so.”
Floyd guessed right, which was a good thing since an instant after we dropped to the ground the stream of bullets was fired at us. Zipping through the empty air where we had just been standing.
Floyd had a large and ugly pistol in his hand now which didn’t slow him down as he wriggled on hands and knees beside me to the shelter of the mounded earth around a polpettone tree.
“We’re under fire!” I shouted into my jawphone.
“Source not visible.”
Fido stood on its hind legs—then jumped high into the air despite another burst of bullets.
“Bow-wow. Perhaps not visible to others but clear enough to me.”
“What is it?”
“Some sort of apparatus at ground level. Want me to take it out?”
“If you can.”
“Grrr!” it growled and retracted its legs, then zipped off at a great rate at ground level, so fast it could barely be seen. Moments later there was a muffled explosion and bits of debris rattled down into the shrub.
“That was quick,” I said.
“Thank you,” Fido said emerging from the undergrowth with a jagged bit of metal in its jaws. “Just follow me if you want to see the remains.”
We followed the thing to a smoking pit with a jumble of crumpled apparatus in its center. Fido dropped its bit of debris, lifted one front leg. Extended its head, straightened its tail and pointed.
“Remote controlled gun turret. Note that the top of it is camouflaged, concealed by dirt and sprouting plants. Hydraulically operated—that’s red oil not blood—to lift the apparatus above ground level. Remains of an optical finder there. Note the four automatic guns, Rapellit-binetti X-nineteens. Rate of fire twelve hundred rounds a minute. Eighty rounds a second, explosive and armor piercing.”
“Since when have you been an armament authority, Aida?” I asked.
“Since a long time back, sweetie-pie. In my heyday I was required to know this sort of thing. I also know that these particular guns have not been manufactured for over five hundred years.”
CHAPTER 23
I took another sip of water, wished that it was a stronger liquid. Was glad that it wasn’t since a clear head was an important asset at this time.
“How old did you say these guns are?” I asked. There was no answer because our fake dog was digging away like a real dog throwing dirt behind it at a great rate. Burrowing down under the gun turret.
“Five hundred years old,” Floyd said. “How can that be? Why use something that old?”
“You use it if that is all that you have. There is a mystery here that we are about to solve. Remember the ancient explosive that blew up the lab? It was also antique. So consider this. What if this planet had been settled before they started dumping societal debris on it? What if there were settlers here—only they were hidden away underground? It’s a possibility. And if it is true, then it has been five centuries since they arrived. That’s how long these mysterious migrants have been hiding away up here. Or down here, really. They must have been settled well before the League ever found this planet. That’s why there is no record of them.”
“Who are them?”
“Your guess is as good as mine …”
“Yarf!” our dogbot said, yarfing through a muzzle covered with dirt. “There is a fiber-optic cable going into the ground, obviously controlling this turret.”
“Going down to the caverns. So, the next question—how do we get in …”
“Jim,” my jaw said. “There is an interesting development taking place about three clicks away from you, in the same direction you have been walking. We’ve got image amplifiers on the electronic telescopes so we can see quite clearly …”
“What can you see quite clearly?”
“A group of armed men has emerged from some kind of opening in the ground. They appear to be dragging along one of their number who is bound. Now they are erecting a metal post of some kind. There is a struggle going on—apparently they are securing the bound man to the post.”
Memories of a thousand ancient flicks flooded my fore-brain. “Stop them! It could be an execution—death by firing squad. Do something!”
“Negative. We are in orbit. Short of launching an explosive torpedo, which is contraindicated at this time, there is nothing we can facilitate that will get there inside fifteen minutes at the very quickest.”
“Forget it!” I was digging into my pack as I whistled to the houndbot. “Fido! Catch!”
It jumped high and grabbed the gas bomb out of the air. “Go. Thataway. You heard the message—get to those guys and bite hard on that thing.”
My last words were shouted in the direction of the tail that was vanishing among the shrubs. We grabbed up our packs and followed. Floyd easily outdistanced me and by the time I got to the scene, staggering and panting, it was all ancient history. Our faithful friend was barking and, foreleg lifted and tail outstretched, was pointing at the sprawled bodies.
“Well done, man’s best friend,” I said, and easily resisted the impulse to pat its plastic fur.
“For the record,” I said for the benefit of my radio. “All males, all armed with shoulder weapons of some kind. There are twelve of them wearing camouflage uniforms. Thirteenth man—surely an unlucky number—tied to the post. No shirt.”
“Is he injured?”
“Negative.” I could feel a steady pulse in his neck. “We made it in time. Interesting, he’s young, younger than the rest. What next?”
“Decision made by the strategic planning computer. Take all weapons. Take the prisoner and remove him to a safe distance, then interrogate.”
I sniffed disdainfully as I unknotted the cords on the man’s wrists. “Don’t need a strategic planning computer to figure that one out.”
Floyd caught him as he slumped free, threw him over his shoulder. I grabbed up the packs and pointed. “Let’s get to that gully and out of sight.”
The bomb that the ersatz hound had exploded was a quick in-and-out gas. One breath and you were asleep. For about twenty minutes. Which was all the time that we needed to hump our loads through the mud of the rain-eroded gully until we found a dry spot under an overhanging bank. Our prisoner—guest?—began to roll his head and mutter. Floyd and I, and our mascot, sat down to watch and wait. It wasn’t long. He muttered something, opened his eyes and saw us. Sat half up and looked very frightened.
“Fremzhduloj!” he said. “Amizhko mizh.”
“Sounds like really bad Esperanto,” Floyd said.
“Just what you would expect if he and his kinfolk have been cut off from any outside contact for hundreds of years. Talk slow and he’ll understand us.”
I turned to him and raised my hands palms out in what I hoped was a universal sign of peace. “We’re strangers, like you said. But what else did you say? Sounded like ‘my friends’?”
“Friends, yes, friends!” he said, nodding like crazy, then shied away when Fido began barking.
“Aida, please. Will you shut your plastic poodle up. He’s frightening our guest.”
The thing stopped barking and spoke. “Just want to report that I am in contact with the watchers above. They report that the others who were rendered unconscious by the gas have re
gained consciousness and have retreated.”
“Great. Just file everything and report later.” I turned back to our guest—who looked very impressed by the talking-dog sequence. “Well, friend. My name is Jim and this is Floyd. The furry fake is Fido. You have a name.”
“I am called Dreadnought, son of Impervious.”
“A pleasure to meet you. Now—can you tell us why you were about to be wasted by that firing squad?”
“Disobeyment of orders. I was on Watch. Saw your group approaching. I fired the Watchturret at you—but do not yourselves anger! I aimed to miss. To fire demands permission of Watch Commander. That is why I was to be executed. I sought not his permission.”
“Accidents happen.”
“No accident. Fired because of orders.”
“Are you following this?” Floyd asked.
“Not too well. Tell us, Dreadnought, who gave the order to fire if it wasn’t the Watch Commander?”
“We all decided together.”
“Who is we?”
“I can not tell you.”
“Understandable. Loyalty to your friends.” I clapped him on the back in a friendly manner and felt him shiver. “Getting cold. I’ll get you a shirt.”
I dug through my pack and took advantage of the opportunity for a muttered conversation with my jawphone.
“Any ideas? From you—or your indispensable strategic planning computer?”
“Yes. If he won’t talk to you perhaps the associates he referred to might be more communicative. Try to arrange a meeting.”
“Right.” I went back with the shirt. “Here, Dreadnought, get out of the cold.” He stood up and put it on. “Good. Now I’ve been thinking. I don’t want you to tell me things that you are not supposed to. But maybe your friends, the ones you just told us about, maybe they can let us know what is going down. Can we meet them?”
He bit his lip and shook his head.
“No? Well let’s try something else. Can you get back to your friends? Tell them about us. Talk about it. Find out if someone is prepared to tell us just what is happening. Okay?”
He looked from me to Floyd, even down at Fido who wagged its tail, before he made his mind up.
“Come with me.”
He was young and strong and trotted along at a mean trot. Floyd and the mechanical mutt kept up fine but my aches and pains were coming back. I trailed behind and was going to call a halt when Dreadnought stopped at the edge of a grove of polpettone trees.
“Wait this place,” he said when I had puffed and blown up to them. He twisted away among the trees. He didn’t notice that Fido, legs folded, tail and head retracted, had slipped silently after him in the guise of a black floormop. The cessation of physical activity was welcome—as was the instant-heating meal I dug out of my pack. One porcuswine burger with gravy. Floyd popped his mealpak as well and we were licking the last drops of yummy from our fingers when the shadowlike mop reappeared. Legs, tail and head popped out and it barked. I scowled at it.
“Report first, bark later.”
“Your new associate never saw me. Within the wood is a slab of rock that levers up with an opening beneath it. He went that way. Shall I show you where it is?”
“Later—if we have to. Right now let us take ten and see if he passes on our message.”
Fatigue sat on me. I closed my eyes and took a lot more than ten. The sun was balancing on the horizon when I surfaced again. My computer obliged me by clicking the red six to a five when I checked the elapsed time. Don’t worry, Jim—Admiral Steengo is on your side! This feeble reassurance didn’t help and I was sure that I could feel the thirty-day poison beginning to bubble and seethe in my bloodstream.
Floyd was snoring lightly, sound asleep. Yet his eyes were open the instant Fido reappeared, disturbing some stones as it slid down the embankment.
“And a good-morning bow-wow to you gentlemen. Your new friend has emerged from under the lifting rock, along with an associate, and is coming this way. Remember—you heard it from me first.”
Fido sat and waited, then barked a welcome when the two men appeared. They were nattily dressed in camouflaged uniforms and steel helmets, each helmet sporting a shiny spike on top. Bandoliers of bullets were draped over their shoulders, while there was a large and impressive handgun on each hip. But the guns were holstered and held in place by a buttoned strap. I relaxed knowing that with Floyd there the touch of a hand to one of those buttons would bring instant unconsciousness.
“Welcome back, Dreadnought,” I said. “Welcome as well your companion.”
“He is named Indefatigable and is the Area Commander. That is Floyd with the beard, the other is Jim.”
Indefatigable did not shake hands but instead hit his closed right fist against his chest with an echoing thud. We did the same since it never hurts to learn the local customs.
“Why did you come here?” Indefatigable asked in a most cold and quizzical manner. I took slight umbrage.
“You might say we came to save your companion from certain death by the firing squad—your thanks are appreciated.”
“If you had not come he would not have fired and have been condemned to death.”
“Good point. But I do remember that he fired because of a group decision. Are you part of that group?”
I saw now that Indefatigable’s brusque manner was a cover-up for the fact that he was very nervous. He chewed his lower lip and his eyes flicked from one to the other of us. He even looked down at the fake dog which barked. Finally, with great reluctance he spoke.
“I cannot answer that. But I have been instructed to take you to those who may answer your question. Now—you must answer my question. Why did you come here?”
“No point in keeping it a secret. We came here to find those who blew up a certain building and stole from it—and from us—an object of great importance.”
This news seemed to relax him a bit. He stopped the lip chewing and Dreadnought almost smiled; leaned forward to whisper something in his companion’s ear. They both nodded, then remembered where they were and snapped into a military brace.
“You will come with us,” Indefatigable said, making it sound like an order.
“Perhaps,” I said. I hate orders. “But you must tell us first—will it be dangerous?”
“We are born into danger; we leave it only when we die.”
It sounded like a quotation of some kind—particularly since Dreadnought’s lips moved along with his.
“Yes, well, that is a pretty general philosophical statement. But I was speaking specifically about like right now.”
“You will be protected,” he answered, trying to control the sneer at our feeble physiques and his obvious superiority.
“Oh, thank you,” Floyd said with eye-popping sincerity. “With that kind of reassurance of course we will go with you. Isn’t that right, Jim?”
“Absolutely, Floyd. With their protection we need not feel insecure.” He could eat them—and a dozen more—for breakfast, but there was no point in bragging.
We reached for our packs but Indefatigable stopped us. “You bring nothing. No weapons. You must trust us.”
Floyd shrugged agreement since he was always armed. “At least some water first,” I said. Picking up my canteen and drinking a bit. Palming a number of small bombs as I put it back. “And of course our companion, our pet dog goes with us.”
Fido played its role by barking, sticking out its tongue and panting. Then overplayed its role by lifting its hind leg on my pack. Though this bit of canine ham acting may have convinced our new militaristic mates, because they nodded agreement.
“We must cover your eyes,” Dreadnought said, pulling out two black scarves. “So you do not discover the secret of the entrance to Shelter.”
“If you mean the slab of rock under the polpettone trees that swings open, you can forget the blindfolds.”
“How do you know this!”
“Just say that we do. Now—do we go with you?”
They looked stricken by my revelation, stepped aside and conversed in quick whispers. Returned reluctantly, all scowls again.
“You will come. Quickly.”
We dogtrotted, including the dog, to the grove, then followed Dreadnought down the ladder into the tunnel beneath the slab. Fido barked, and when I looked up launched itself down at me. I caught it, then dropped it. Looked gloomily into the darkness as Indefatigable closed the lid.
I just hoped that we had made the right decision because my days were still running out. Going underground like this was a little too reminiscent of the grave.
And it would be my grave if I didn’t get the antidote in time.
CHAPTER 24
Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness I saw that a thin line of light ran along at shoulder height on each side of the tunnel. The floor was smooth and hard, as were the walls when I brushed my fingers against them. We walked in silence for some time until we came to a cross tunnel.
“No talking now! Breathe silently—do not stir,” one of our guides whispered. “Back against the wall.”
We stayed that way for long minutes. I saw that there were glowing numerals on the walls where the tunnels crossed. I added to my store of useless knowledge the data that we were in tunnel Y-82790 at the place where it crossed NJ-28940. I leaned against the wall, and was thinking seriously about going to sleep, when I heard the thud of marching boots from NJ-28940. I woke up and remained silent and unmoving as a squad of about twenty men exited from the tunnel on our right and marched straight across and into the same numbered tunnel on the left. When the sound of their footsteps had almost died away we moved out to the whispered command.
“Turn left, after them. Quiet as you can.”
This was apparently the only dangerous part of our journey, because once we had left this tunnel for another our companions whispered together again. I wondered if Fido was still with us.
“Don’t bark,” I said as softly as I could. “But if you are still there, man’s best friend, and hearing this with your super hearing, a tiny growl is permitted.”
A guttural grrr sounded from somewhere around my ankles.
The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection Page 64
