by James Axler
Ryan took one more close look at the blueprints, fixing intersections, rooms, and the general layout in his mind. He looked around at the others. “Any questions?” When no one replied, he said, “Okay, we’ve got it. Take us to the elevator shaft.”
* * *
KRYSTY AWOKE TO PAIN.
The first thing she noticed was the side of her head throbbing where Elial had clobbered her. As she returned to full consciousness, she felt the dull pain of sore muscles in her shoulders, arms and wrists. Feeling her arms stretched out to either side, she tried to bring them down, only to realize with a jingling of chains that she couldn’t.
Bastards got me stretched up like they did Jak, she thought. There was something else odd about her condition, but once she opened her eyes, Krysty discovered the last humiliation that had been inflicted on her.
She was completely nude. They hadn’t even left her boots on, and she stood on bare feet on the cold metal floor. She heard the judas plate in the door slide open, and could feel the guards’ eyes roaming up and down her body, whispering and chuckling to each other as they stared at her full, firm breasts, flat stomach and fit, muscular arms and legs. The view had to have been pretty spectacular, since her arms had been ratcheted to the sides so her breasts stood out proudly. It was a wonder the walking filth outside hadn’t tried anything yet, but if she stayed here much longer, Krysty knew they probably would.
Her head slowly rose, green eyes flashing with fury. The betrayal she could deal with, even them holding her prisoner—after all, it’s not like it was the first time it had happened. But to strip her and put her on display like this went way beyond the pale.
She flexed her sore shoulders, feeling the amount of give in the chains attached to her wrists. It would be difficult to summon the Gaia power here—she was already on edge from insufficient sleep and the fight with Raina and Elial, not to mention being stuck in here, surrounded by man-made smells and metal, but that wasn’t going to stop her. All she needed was a focus, and she’d be off.
The ship lurched as a wave hit it, and in a flash, Krysty realized what that focus could be. Lowering her head again, she began channeling her power.
Gaia, hear me...your daughter needs your strength, your will...she thought. I am your vessel...fill me with your power until I overflow with it...give me the power of the mighty ocean itself...eternal, unstoppable, able to sweep away anything in its path...
As she wordlessly chanted in her mind, she felt the familiar, tingling warmth ignite in the pit of her stomach. It grew, spreading up and out until it filled every limb, every finger and toe. Finally, it reached her mind, exploding in a glorious burst of incandescent light that made her feel as light as a feather...and as strong as a great white shark.
Krysty raised her head again. As she did, she flexed her arms, tearing the chains from their moorings on the wall. The guards outside sprang into action, unlocking the door and rushing in.
As they charged at her in what looked like slow motion, a part of her mind noted that there were more of them than she’d expected, but it didn’t matter—they were all about to die.
She snapped both chains forward at the first two. The one attached to her left hand whipped out, the heavy link at the end smashing into the guard’s face. It punched through his right temple, shattering it, and sending him skidding down to the floor, dead before he hit.
Her right-hand chain curled around the second guard’s ankle, ensnaring it. She pulled as if she was opening a door, not only yanking him off his feet, but sliding him across the room into the sole of her foot, which broke his jaw and knocked him unconscious.
The second pair of Downrunners entered right behind their unfortunate companions and charged straight at her, as well, no doubt planning to overwhelm her by brute force and the use of their metal-wrapped clubs.
Even with only moments left of her power, Krysty was confident that this would be the last mistake they would ever make.
The man on her left leaped over the twitching body on the floor. She pulled the chain up and over, grabbing it so she was holding a length about three feet long between her hand and her manacled wrist. As the guard brought his club down toward her head, she raised the chain to block it, then twisted it so the club was now caught in a loop. Using her momentum, she stepped aside, wrenching the weapon out of his hands. Before he could react, she brought her left wrist back across his face, smashing him with the manacle. The blow fractured his cheekbone and sent him to the floor, clutching the injury. As he drew in breath to scream, she drove her bare heel into his throat, fracturing his larynx and making any kind of noise from his swelling throat impossible. The man clutched at his face and throat as he slowly choked to death.
Caught by surprise, the last guard had to change course to go after her. He swung his club from the shoulder in a roundhouse blow that would have taken her head off her shoulders.
Krysty, however, wasn’t there anymore. Having ducked under the wild swing, she flicked her right chain up again, making it undulate through the air and around his head, where she caught it with her left hand and drew it tight around the back of his neck. Before the man could recover, she pulled down on his neck with the chain while pistoning her knee up into his nose, shattering it, and knocking him out.
The whole thing had taken less than twenty seconds.
As the last man collapsed, Krysty’s superhuman strength drained out of her, and she sank to her knees. Hearing footsteps in the corridor outside, she crawled to the nearest guard and pulled at the blaster on his belt, drawing it just as a figure appeared in the doorway.
“Krysty? Dark night, what happened to you?”
She raised the blaster to point at the ceiling a moment before she would have shot J.B. “Raina...Elial...” she gasped. “They’re part of another...group...planning to chill...both sides...and take over ship...”
“Figures. Come on, let’s get your clothes and get you out of here.” One of the guards had the key to her manacles in his pocket. J.B. quickly unlocked them, then went outside to search for her clothes. He returned moments later and helped her dress. Another guard had her Smith & Wesson blaster, which she took back. Clothed and armed, Krysty felt a bit more like herself.
“What take so long?” Jak asked from the corridor, his blaster in hand.
“Krysty’s just taking a moment to make herself decent,” J.B. replied with a brief smile.
“You’re lucky I’m as weak as a kitten right now, or I’d slap that smile right off your face,” she muttered.
“No doubt you would,” J.B. said as he slung her arm around his shoulders and started heading for the door. “No doubt you would.”
* * *
“SURE WE WANT to go this way?”
Ryan, Mildred, Doc and Ricky all peered into the darkness of the elevator shaft that was supposed to take them to the bottom level of the ship. Mildred had just voiced that very reasonable question, and even Ryan was considering finding another way down. However, time was wasting, and three of their own were still held below somewhere.
“The ladder should still be perfectly safe,” Frost said. “If you’re worried about the weather, I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do about that.”
The storm front off to the west had moved in, and the ship was rolling back and forth in the higher seas. Ryan had checked to make sure that their escape pod was still secured to the stern, as there was no sense in going through all this effort only to find their means of escape had broken free and drifted away. Frost had assured him that it was, but Ryan had still gone back and checked for himself.
“We do it as planned,” he replied, testing the service ladder with all his weight to make sure it was secure. Only when he was positive did he climb fully onto it. “I go first, then Ricky, then Doc, then Mildred, at five-second intervals. Get to the bottom and clear the ladder for the next person. Ricky, you and your carbine will be with me on the door. Everybody got it?”
The other companions nodded.
> “Good luck,” Captain Frost said, holding out his hand to Ryan. Hesitating, but not wanting to insult the man, Ryan shook his hand. “We’ll be waiting for your call from the maintenance deck.”
Ryan just nodded and began climbing down as quietly as he could. With every rung, he descended from full light to dim light, then into pitch-blackness. Each person carried portable lights that were provided by the officers, but Ryan had forbid using them on the way down. Even with the officers’ assurances that this shaft wasn’t used by anyone below, he didn’t want to risk alerting anyone down there.
The ladder shook slightly under his hands and feet, but Ryan ignored it and kept going, hand, foot, hand, foot. He tried to listen for any noises from below, but couldn’t hear anything.
He’d kept a rough mental count of how far he’d gone in terms of yards, and slowed when he hit one seventy-five, figuring the floor had to be pretty close now. And it was, although it wasn’t quite what he’d expected.
Ryan stepped down onto the roof of the old elevator itself, his boots thumping on the roof and echoing through the shaft. He froze, straining to hear if the noise had alerted anyone. Ricky was coming down, and Ryan grabbed the youth’s leg to make him stop before he made the same mistake.
“Elevator’s still here,” he whispered. “Step down quietly, then find the access hatch.”
The kid did just that, standing on the roof and moving to the opposite corner so Mildred and Doc could join them. Ryan repeated the warning twice more, and both of them left the ladder with relative ease, although Doc stumbled a bit and nearly fell, only saving himself by grabbing Ryan’s outstretched arm.
“Easy, Doc!” he hissed.
The old man removed his hand and brushed imaginary dust off his frock coat. “I am all right.”
Ryan had already walked around to where Ricky was crouched. “Find the hatch?”
“Yeah, but I think we’ve got trouble,” the youth whispered back. “I’m pretty sure I heard voices below, and I can’t tell if they’re inside the box or out.”
“Bastard! Frost and Coller said this was supposed to be deserted!” Even while seething at the faulty intelligence, Ryan still kept his voice low. “All right, get your carbine ready. I’m going to open the door, you clear the inside. If they’re there, chill them. If not, we hit the floor and figure out where they are. Ready?”
His companions nodded. Ryan grasped the handle of the door and slowly began turning it. It didn’t budge. He put more pressure on it—still nothing.
“Nukeshitting...piece of...drek!” he hissed through his teeth as he threw all of his strength into turning the latch. When it finally gave, it did so with an ease that surprised Ryan, nearly throwing him off balance. He lifted the metal panel, which now opened easily, just a crack, and made sure Ricky was ready before opening it all the way.
Leading with his De Lisle, the boy stuck his head and shoulders through the gap, sweeping the entire elevator. The interior was empty, and now Ryan could hear snatches of conversation through the metal doors.
“Why the nuke are we out here, again?”
“Because the Recovered we took yesterday escaped and are loose on this level,” the second person replied. “Just keep your eyes open and report if you see anything. I heard they’re very dangerous. Killed six when they broke out.”
“De Kooning save us!”
“Yeah, so keep your eyes peeled, okay?”
While the two kept talking, Ryan signaled to Ricky that he’d lower him to the floor, then pass down his carbine. Ryan would follow, and they would chill the two guards.
Handing his weapon to Mildred, Ricky put his legs through the hatch and held his arms out to Ryan, who was now lying down and had made Doc sit on his legs for a counterweight. Ryan grabbed the kid’s wrists and lowered him through the square hole, feeling the strain on his shoulders and lower back. However, he was able to lower Ricky almost to the floor. When he let go, the kid dropped only a few inches. He hit with hardly a sound, certainly not overheard by the two chatting guards on the other side of the door.
Ryan handed him the carbine, then slowly lowered himself to the floor, as well. Padding silently to the metal doors, he inserted his fingers in the seam down the middle and tugged at them experimentally. They didn’t budge.
Ryan put his ear to the metal and listened to the two men talking until he had a good idea of where they were standing. He backed up, pointed to Ricky and mimed shooting through the doors. He held up two fingers as he pointed to each panel, indicating that Ricky should put at least two bullets into each man.
Ricky nodded, then raised the De Lisle to his shoulder and aimed carefully. He squeezed the trigger, the carbine firing the heavy .45 ACP round that punched through the elevator’s thin door and into the back of the man on the other side. Ricky worked the bolt, the sound louder than the shot, and fired again, then turned to the other side, counting on surprise to let him get at least one more shot off before the second guard could raise the alarm.
And at first, it seemed to be working. The first guard had only grunted when he took the first bullet. The second one apparently noticed, since he asked, “Hey, what’s wrong with you?” A moment later, the second shot plowed into the guard’s back, making him sag to the floor.
“Shit!” the other guard said as Ricky chambered another round and aimed. They heard a footstep from outside.
“Shoot!” Ryan whispered.
Compensating for the man’s movement, Ricky squeezed the trigger again. The bullet punched through the door, but ricocheted off something inside it. Ryan heard panicked footsteps receding into the distance.
“Fireblast! Get the others down here and follow me!” he snapped as he ran to the doors and pried them far apart enough to squeeze through. He took off down the cluttered corridor after the fleeing guard, who was shouting for help. “So much for surprise, dammit!” he muttered as he drew his SIG Sauer and snap-shot two rounds at the running man.
A dozen yards ahead, the guard hit the wall and rebounded just as Ryan fired. The bullets smacked into where he had been, making the one-eyed man grit his teeth. “Dammit, he’s fast!”
Ryan stopped at the corner and poked his head out fast enough to see if anyone was lying in wait for him. No one was there, just the shrinking form of the running guard. Ryan steadied his blaster hand with his other one and lined up on the man’s back, but he disappeared around another corner before he could shoot.
“Nuking hell!!” Ryan raised his blaster and turned to see the others coming up behind him. “Surprise is gone. Let’s find our guys, then see if we can get to the Engineer. Come on!”
Chapter Thirty
J.B. sent a burst of fire from his Uzi down the hallway, making another rad-sore-covered man carrying a spear gun duck for cover. He exchanged magazines while Jak covered him. “I don’t know how much more of this my ears can take.”
The last ten minutes had been a flurry of running, hiding, and shooting. The alarm had been raised almost immediately after they’d freed Krysty. Since then, they’d been navigating the confusing tangle of hallways, pipes and machinery in an attempt to get someplace where they could start heading to the upper decks.
Unfortunately, the Downrunners had figured out their plan, and had been waiting at every staircase and elevator shaft they’d come across so far. J.B. and Jak had kept them at bay with carefully placed shots—nearly deafening themselves from the roar of the albino’s hand cannon—but they also couldn’t risk attacking, as the Downrunners were well-fortified and armed with spear guns that would put a serious hurt on anyone they hit. Add to all this the fact that they were running low on ammo, the ship was pitching and yawing like crazy, and their perplexity as to where they even were in its damn bowels, and it was not looking good for them at all.
The three had taken refuge in an intersection where they were pretty sure no one was behind them. They’d been holding off the Downrunners pursuing them while figuring out their next steps.
“St
ill think we charge enemy,” Jak said. “Blasters blazing—make scatter!”
“Yeah, or they might put a barbed spear through your gut,” the Armorer replied as he sent another shot at their pursuers. “We need to get the hell out or change the odds somehow.”
“Disable the reactor?” Krysty asked. “We can’t let any fuel spill into the ocean.”
“No, more like capture it and use it as leverage to get us out of here,” J.B. said, then paused as another idea struck him. “Or, we could find the steam turbines the reactor powers and threaten to disable those. But we have to get to them first.”
“Settle for getting out here,” Jak grumbled as he raised his blaster, making the other two plug their ears as he fired. A thin scream of pain from down the hallway told them he’d tagged at least one of the enemy. “Can’t sit here forever!”
“Okay, hang on. It makes sense that those turbines would be close to the reactor, right?” Krysty asked. “We need to get back there and find them. Once we locate them, we take the room and then negotiate to get the hell out of here.”
“Works for me,” J.B. replied, handing her his submachine gun. “Here—give me a minute to prep a booby.”
Krysty shot twice at their attackers, making a pair that was trying to move forward jump back under cover. One of them loosed his spear as they retreated, and she ducked as the barbed projectile whizzed overhead. “Hate to say it, but I’m starting to agree with Jak—maybe a charge into them is our best option.”
J.B. had just finished prepping the detonator when he caught a glimpse of movement down the cross-corridor behind them. “Shit...” Tucking the improvised bomb into his pocket, he scooped up his M-4000 and sent a cluster of flechettes that way, resulting in two bodies toppling over. “Sons of bitches tried to flank us! They had to come from somewhere. Let’s backtrack to see if there’s a way around the main corridor. Give them another blast and let’s go!”
