Remember Tomorrow

by James Axler

  He was stopped by the cold metal barrel of Xander’s Luger pressed against his forehead.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t just do it now,” the baron said softly. “You’re an incompetent fool and my reputation will suffer. To chill you as the one who should take the blame won’t save that, but it will show that I’m strong and that I won’t tolerate failure or fuckup.”

  Hammick heard the hammer click back on the Luger, felt the pressure of the cold metal increase on his forehead. He closed his eyes and waited for oblivion, sure that his bladder had released with fear.

  Instead, he heard Grant’s measured tones.

  “Why don’t you let him take a sec force after them? Wipe them out in their own filth, see to them once and for all?”

  “And what if he fucks that one up, as well?” Xander demanded angrily.

  “If he does, then who’s to know, out there? We claim a victory, you deal with him as you see fit and then we send out someone who can do the job. At least this gives him a chance to redeem himself.”

  “Why should he have a chance?” Xander demanded once more. Hammick was wondering about that himself. Terrified beyond the ability to think rationally, he hoped Grant would supply an answer that he could not—literally—for the life of him.

  Hammick could hear Grant’s measured breathing before the man spoke. “Because if he succeeds, he will know how close he came to buying the farm. He will know how closely he walks in the shadow of being chilled. I have found that there is nothing like such knowledge to focus the mind and enable a man to fulfill his tasks with a maximum of diligence and efficiency.”

  That was a good answer—a triple-good answer—thought Hammick, his muscles starting to spasm from the awkward, half-prone position he had been forced to adopt. He could only hope that the baron would also think it a triple-good answer.

  The barrel of the blaster didn’t move, but Hammick heard the baron begin to laugh. Softly at first, but with a genuine amusement and understanding.

  “Yeah…Yeah, I like that. I like it a lot. It’s a very good point.” Xander took the Luger away from Hammick’s head, thumbed the safety, and reholstered it. The sec chief risked opening his eyes to find himself looking into the face of the baron. “You can stand up now, you stupe bastard,” Xander said softly. And as the sec chief did so, he continued. “That’s what I want you to do. We’ll mount a raid and we’ll wipe out those ugly fuckers.”

  “I’ll get the armory right on it, sir,” Hammick said, trying hard not to sound too grateful and pathetic for being spared.

  “I think you’ll find I’ve already instituted a plan,” Grant said softly. When Xander gave him a quizzical look, he added, “Regardless of what you did to Hammick, it was something that I felt would have to be our next move.”

  “I shall have to watch for the day when your next move is to dispose of me,” the baron murmured with a deceptive mildness.

  Hammick sighed to himself. As the two men exchanged looks, they had—thankfully—forgotten about him.

  But before the exchanges between Grant and Xander could move into potentially dangerous territory, the door to the throne room was flung open, and J.B. strode in, followed by Esquivel.

  “What do you mean by bursting in without appointment or announcement,” Xander yelled, his baronial pride further dented by this intrusion.

  “Sorry, chief,” Esquivel addressed to Hammick, “but he’s got something kinda important.”

  “It’s okay, Es. No one apologizes for me,” J.B. said shortly.

  Addressing Xander, he continued. “I’ve got my memory back—”

  “Very interesting, I’m sure, but we are in the middle of a battle here,” Grant interjected mildly. “There are things that are, to be frank, more important than—”

  He was cut short by an impatient gesture from the Armorer, who interrupted. “This is important. I’ve remembered how I came to be here and when I last saw Ryan Cawdor. In fact, I don’t even have to remember, as I saw him only an hour or so ago.”

  The announcement dropped like a bombshell. Grant had guessed that Cawdor would be involved in the raid from the earlier information; Hammick had seen a one-eyed man during the battle and had drawn the obvious conclusion; but Xander had no knowledge at all that Ryan was associated with the raid. Whereas the other two fought to show surprise, there was no mistaking Xander’s astonishment. As his jaw dropped, J.B. explained about the moment when it had come flooding back, seeing Ryan in the middle of the firefight.

  “But why would someone like Cawdor be involved with inbred filth like that?” Xander asked, genuine bemusement in his voice.

  J.B. explained about seeing Mildred and Jak, and how that meant that two of the companions were missing. He added, “It’s true that they could have bought the farm in the same accident that landed me here, but somehow I doubt it. I figure they’re being held as leverage to make Ryan, Jak and Mildred do what these bastards want.”

  “That’s certainly feasible,” Xander said softly. “But it doesn’t alter the fact that we need to go after this scum and wipe them out. And if that means—”

  “Wait. Before you say anything else, hear me out,” J.B. said quickly. “Ryan and the others are only fighting for those bastards because they have to. If I’m with your people when you go in and they see me, they will join us and turn the tables on their captors.”

  “Fine words, but you are, after all, assuming that Cawdor and his people aren’t fighting against us out of choice,” Grant said.

  J.B.’s eyes flashed. “If they’ve got Doc and Krysty as prisoners, then Ryan would fight for them. No other reason. And why not? What do you mean to him?”

  “What do we mean to you?” Grant countered.

  “Not as much as Ryan, Jak, Mildred, Doc and Krysty,” J.B. said heatedly, and cursed himself as it came out of his mouth. If Xander thought he would sell out Duma for them, then he wouldn’t trust him on the raid. Would the baron see that it was more—so much more—than simply a matter of ville loyalty?

  “If we mean nothing to you, then I fail to see how you can be trusted on this mission,” Grant snapped immediately.

  He addressed the baron. “We can’t let this man endanger the mission. We have a point to prove.”

  “Grant’s right.” J.B. turned in surprise. Olly was standing in the doorway, Ella-Mae at his elbow. They had followed close behind the Armorer and his sec shadow and had listened to the explanations and arguments within the chamber. Now Olly had decided to step forward.

  “You of all people know he can’t be trusted,” Hammick blustered. “It was your shot on the one-eyed man that he deflected.”

  As soon as he said it, he realized what a mistake he’d made. He wasn’t supposed to know about Ryan’s involvement. In fact, by omission he’d only just denied all knowledge. By implication, if he knew, then Grant, too, had to have known. He shot the lame man a glance. Grant was furious, but only the slight tic at the corner of an eye on his otherwise impassive visage gave him away. Xander looked at both of them.

  “I think there is more to know, here,” he said slowly.

  “Baron, that isn’t important right now,” Olly said impatiently. “What’s important is this—I believe J.B., and I figure you should. You were going to put him in charge of Duma’s ordnance. If you would trust him with that, why not trust him now? What’s changed?”

  “His loyalty to old friends means he cannot be trusted—”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s so wrong,” Olly interrupted again. “He’s not fighting for us or for those inbreds but to help his fellow travelers. But they’re not on anyone’s side except their own.” He shook his head. It had seemed so clear when he started, but now he found himself getting lost in a morass of “buts.”

  He drew a breath and started again. “Look, if J.B. goes, I’ll go, too. I’d trust him with my life and mebbe he’ll have to trust me with his. If he tries to stop our forces carrying out their task, then I’ll chill him myself. Except I know it wo
n’t come to that.”

  Olly’s impassioned plea took everyone by surprise. Xander looked at the young man in a new light. He hadn’t considered that Budd’s son was up to the task of handling the Duma armory, but he could see that the lad had depths he had never suspected. Grant and Hammick didn’t know what to make of this at all. Covering their own backs was going to be hard enough after Hammick’s slip of the tongue, without matters becoming more complicated.

  Esquivel grinned. J.B. had only known the young man a few days, yet already he had drawn him out of himself, made a man out of what had been a boy, living in Budd’s shadow. The old armorer would be as pissed as hell when he heard about this. Somehow, that only added to Esquivel’s pleasure.

  Ella-Mae could understand why Olly felt the way he did. Like him, she had only known J.B. for a few days, yet in that time he had affected her more, touched her on a deeper level, than anyone she had ever known. And even though she was sure that he would soon be gone, one way or another, she knew that she and Olly would never be the same again.

  J.B. watched the young man with a growing sense of respect and friendship. Being placed by Xander in the armory above Olly, to Budd’s obvious disgust, J.B. had expected the young man to be hostile. To have his character judged thus was perhaps just what he needed to swing things his way.

  The moment seemed to stretch into an infinity as J.B. waited for the baron to make his decision. Finally, Xander nodded slowly. “Okay, I’m going to trust you. Not just because of what Olly says, not just because of what I know about you and not just because I have to trust someone if I can’t trust this stupe,” he added, indicating Hammick. “But because you’re J. B. Dix and you didn’t have to tell me any of this shit. You could have joined up with Ryan Cawdor during the firefight, you could have just looked at your position here and kept your mouth shut. But you didn’t, and that counts for something. Shit, something has to count for something,” he muttered, looking at Grant and Hammick. “Go and prepare and leave me to these bastards,” he said, dismissing them with a wave and turning to the sec chief and the lame man.

  Without a backward glance, J.B. left the throne room, followed by Olly. Esquivel lingered, taking a good look at his boss, the baron and Grant. He wondered just what games had been going on. After all, he had to live with whatever happened after this. From the expression on the baron’s grim and stony visage, things were going to be changing.

  “Es, time for us to go,” Ella-Mae whispered in his ear, pulling at the sleeve of his camo shirt.

  “Yeah, guess so,” he muttered reluctantly as they left, closing the door on what had become a tableau, none of the three men prepared to make the first move on their fate.

  Ella-Mae and the sec man hurried after Olly and J.B., to find that both had made their way directly to the armory. When they met up with them, the two men had taken over the handling of the inventory from Budd. The old man stood to one side, with a look that told anyone who cared to glance his way that his time had passed. Whichever of the two men returned alive from the battle would be the new armorer. Budd’s authority had disappeared.

  Olly had taken over the blaster room and was handing out SMGs and rifles to the assembled sec force. There was little doubt that Xander took this raid seriously. As Esquivel did a quick head count, he figured that a quarter of the ville’s sec force was clustered in the hallway, receiving new blasters and ammo, while Olly checked off the list with ease, passing comments and advice to the individuals as they collected their weapons.

  Esquivel looked around for J.B. He was supposed to be the Armorer’s shadow and he’d lost sight of him—not that he could see J.B. needing a shadow now. His credentials for Xander had been well and truly established. Nonetheless, Esquivel had formed a liking for the wiry man with the glasses and the ever-present fedora. If J.B. was going on this raid, then he wanted to be in on it with him.

  Almost as though she could read his thoughts, Ella-Mae asked, “Where’s J.B., Es? Shouldn’t you be with him?”

  “I dunno, babe. If Olly’s doing the blasters, then our man’s gonna be handling the grens, right?”

  “Guess so. You gonna go on this raid with him, Es?”

  The man grinned. “It’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta do it, Ella-Mae. I’m supposed to shadow him, right?”

  “You haven’t always stuck to that task,” she said with a smirk.

  “Hey, dude’s entitled to his privacy,” Esquivel returned with humor. But his voice dropped into a serious tone as he continued. “Yeah, I’ll go with him. Wouldn’t be right to duck out on him now, even though I figure Xander’s not suspicious anymore. Besides, when was the last time I did anything other than fight in Icepick’s bar and smash fuck out of it?”

  This last drew a smile from her, but didn’t deflect from her next question. “Can I come along, too?”

  Esquivel looked askance. “What d’you mean, babe? You’re a mechanic. By rights, you should be going over the wags we’ll be using right now, not hanging around here. When was the last time you had combat experience?”

  “Not that simple, Es, not that simple.” She hesitated before continuing, mindful of the activity around her. But even so, it seemed at that moment as though the two of them were alone, sec men moving around them without even noticing they were there. She ran her fingers through her long curls before starting again. “I have to come along,” she began, “I might not see J.B. again—”

  “Hey, being chilled is a risk we all take, but—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “It’s not about that. There was something about him that changed when his memory came back. And that’s good for him, but mebbe not for me. His place is with them and he may not come back here after the firefight. And I…I dunno, I just want to see him go.”

  “Even if it means you might buy the farm yourself?” Esquivel asked gently. “Shit, you got it bad, girl.”

  “Yeah, real stupe—the untouchable iron maiden ends up being like a kid over one guy. It’s like those old vids that trader brought through a few years back, y’know?”

  Esquivel looked up the staircase as a procession of sec men filed down. Had to be nearly half the sec force moving through the armory building, getting ordnance for the attack. The sec man could see faces that hadn’t figured in his initial count and realized the scale of the action. He couldn’t let Ella-Mae in on this, yet short of knocking her out, what could he do?

  “Listen, babe,” he said finally. “We’ll get ourselves equipped, go see J.B. and see what he says. If he says no, I’ll deck you myself if I have to.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” she retorted.

  They fought their way up the stairs, past the stream of sec men coming down, and around toward the gren and plas ex room. As they approached, they could hear J.B.’s voice as he kitted out each man and explained the use of each gren to him before moving onto the next. It was the voice of a man who knew his job back to front. He was so engrossed in his task that he didn’t even notice them enter the room, so attentive was he upon the sec man he was equipping.

  “Dude, we need to talk to you,” Esquivel said, interrupting the Armorer at his task.

  “Not now—work to do,” J.B. snapped back. Then he caught sight of Ella-Mae. “No, now isn’t the time,” he reiterated.

  “We want to come with you,” she blurted.

  “‘We’?” J.B. questioned.

  “Yeah, she wants to come with us,” Esquivel explained. “Me? It’s my job, dude. Still supposed to be your bodyguard and still supposed to be a sec man, right? But Ella-Mae wants in. I’ve tried to tell her no, but she won’t listen to me, dude.”

  “Dark night, I can’t stop and talk about this now.” The Armorer sighed. “Wait over there and let me finish what I’m supposed to do.”

  Esquivel led Ella-Mae into a corner of the room while J.B. finished equipping the sec force taking part in the raid. Most of them had already received grens before going down to be equipped with blasters by Olly, so it didn’t
take long for J.B. to work through the rest of them. When he was finished, he went over to where Esquivel and Ella-Mae were waiting.

  “You can’t come. You don’t have the combat experience,” he said simply.

  “Bullshit. How do you know that?” she countered heatedly.

  “Because you’re an ace mechanic. No baron is going to put someone with those skills in the front line.”

  She was exasperated. He was right, but she wouldn’t let it rest. “What does that have to do with it?”

  “Everything,” he said. “You go into battle not knowing what you’re doing and you’re a danger to everyone you fight with. Hauling your ass out of trouble could buy the farm for me or Es or anyone whose own back isn’t covered while they’re covering yours.”

  “And you wouldn’t want me to be chilled?”

  “Of course not. Look, I know why you want to come, but things are real fucked up now that I can remember everything. If we get Ryan and the others out of there in one piece while we chill the scum who are holding them, then we’re coming back here. They’ll need some R&R and Xander’ll treat them like legends. That suits everyone. So if it’s not my turn to buy the farm, I’ll be back and we can talk then.”

  “If you’re sure,” she whispered.

  “Sure? You don’t have a choice, lady,” J.B. snapped, suddenly catching her with a left hook out of nowhere that caught her on the jaw and laid her out.

  Esquivel looked at him in amazement.

  “What?” J.B. snapped. “You think we’ve got time for arguing?”

  Esquivel held up his hands. “Hey, none of my business, dude. I just know how pissed she’ll be when she wakes up.”

  “Worry about that later,” J.B. muttered while he finished checking his own inventory in his canvas bags. He racked the M-4000, checked the Uzi and sheathed his Tekna. He was ready. “Come on, Es, time to get your shit together if we’re going to do this.”

  Galvanized into action, the sec man moved rapidly, taking grens from storage and attaching them to the clips on his uniform. He still had the regulation issue AK-47 slung on his shoulder.