by Jaspre Bark
"That way," he said, pointing to the top of a rise. Middenface nodded and fell into step beside him.
They hiked for about three hours. The sun sank lower in the sky, and Johnny reckoned they were approaching the middle of the Miltonian afternoon. As he recalled, there were approximately thirty-four and a half Earth hours in one Miltonian day.
The mountain terrain was heavy going at first. They had had two steep ridges to climb, the second of which was covered in loose shale. This caused them to lose their footing and slide quite often. When they finally got in sight of the gully, they were both out of breath and sweating quite heavily.
"By the time we've finished here, we'd have earned every penny o' that seven hundred thou," puffed Middenface.
Johnny still couldn't see any sign of habitation. He was beginning to accept, with some dismay, that they could be combing the two-mile radius for days before they stumbled upon anything. There was no guarantee that the intelligence they were acting upon was even true. He knew from experience that people would say just about anything under torture, and there was often no way to check their claims other than by inflicting more pain on them. This was just one of the reasons why he hated using information garnered by such means. The use of torture crossed a line into territory he wasn't prepared to explore. Even bounty hunters had ethics.
The gully contained the first real signs of life they had seen in the mountains. Bushes, shrubs and ferns lined its sides, and several clumps of trees sprouted down at the bottom. Johnny even spotted a few small furry creatures swinging from the branches. A clear, fast-running stream ran down a steep incline and through the middle of the flora.
From where they stood, Johnny could see two ways down. The first would be quite straightforward, but it would leave them exposed to the scrutiny of anyone hidden in the undergrowth below. The other way was far more precipitous, but it would afford them good cover throughout. There was no question of which route they should take. He outlined the latter course to Middenface, and they began their descent.
At the bottom by the side of the stream, they stopped and filled their water bottles. The water was cool and refreshing. After that, they decided their best bet was to cross to where the undergrowth was densest, and then follow the stream's course.
They were three-quarters of the way along the gully when suddenly an arrow shot out from nowhere, passing over their heads. They hit the ground and reached for their knives, trying to pinpoint the direction from which the attack had come. Behind them, they heard a chittering shriek as one of the furry creatures fell out of a tree, impaled and dying. The arrow had not been meant for them.
They crawled behind a clump of ferns and watched as two norms and a mutant broke out of the bushes and raced up to the fallen creature. They hadn't spotted Johnny and Middenface yet. As the three men drew closer, the S/D agents saw that two of them, not one, were mutants. The man they had mistaken for a norm only had the slightest of mutations: the fingers of his left hand were half as long again as normal fingers. He was carrying a bow.
"See, didn't I tell you?" the long-fingered mutant boasted as he picked up his quarry. "I never miss!"
"Fingers, that's the first thing you've shot all day," said the norm, good-naturedly. "Which is lucky because that's your last arrow."
"Get out of here," replied Fingers. "You're still sore because you missed that lizard."
"That wasn't my fault," the norm countered. "Tell him, Whispers, it wasn't my fault." A tall mutant who also looked near-normal except that he had the tiniest of mouths just shrugged and shook his head.
"What's the matter?" joked the norm. "Are you just going to stand there and let him talk to me like this?"
"He ain't gonna stand there," said Fingers. "He's going to walk back to the camp with me. You can stay here and argue about lizards for as long as you like."
"Okay, okay," said the norm, jogging along behind them as they set off at a brisk pace. "But you wait until our next hunting expedition. I'll bag the biggest lizard you ever did see. Just you wait and see if I don't."
Johnny and Middenface exchanged smiles. Luck was with them. When it came to the matter of hunting down their men, it seemed it always was.
They followed the three Salvationists at a safe distance. It was not difficult as their quarry was not on its guard. They tramped merrily through the gully making a huge racket: laughing, joking and arguing playfully, obviously convinced that nobody was watching them. While this made it easier for the bounty hunters to tail them, it also put them on their guard. There had to be a reason for the Salvationists' confidence and, whatever it was, it could prove highly dangerous to them.
The three men walked to the end of the gully where the sides were the least steep and took a hidden route upwards. Johnny and Middenface had to hang back a moment as the trio had the perfect vantage point from which to see any pursuers. As they disappeared from sight, the pair broke cover and raced across the open ground after them. It was a risky but necessary manoeuvre and it almost backfired. The path that the Salvationists were following must have doubled back on itself, because they suddenly came back into view above Johnny and Middenface's heads. Had they only been a little more vigilant, they would have spotted them.
The S/D agents ducked out of sight, emerging when the coast was clear and scrambling up the hazardous path in pursuit. They caught one more glimpse of Fingers, not far ahead of them, but by the time they reached the spot where he'd been, he had vanished into thin air. There was no sign of any of the three men. They stood for a moment, perplexed, looking for anywhere their quarry could be hiding.
"D'ye think we've bin steered blind, Johnny?" Middenface asked.
Johnny shook his head. "I know it looks strange, but I don't believe those three would have been up here by themselves. We're too far from civilisation. They have to be connected to the Salvationists somehow."
"Even if two o' 'em were mutants?"
Johnny stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I get the feeling there's more to all this than we realised," he considered.
Suddenly, he heard a scraping sound behind him.
Middenface heard it too, and they spun around in unison, their hands reaching for their knives. They were too late.
The shapes in front of them were wispy and grey, like ghosts. It took Johnny a moment to realise that he was looking at two human figures, their clothing blending perfectly into the shapes and colours of the mountainside behind them.
"Sneckin' chameleon cloaks!" groaned Middenface under his breath, and Johnny was just as chagrined as his partner at having being caught out in the same way twice.
"Hold it right there!" growled one of the cloaked guards.
"Out for an afternoon stroll in the hills, are we?" said the other with an unpleasant smile. "I think you two better talk fast!"
Sturdy bows, with arrows notched and ready, protruded from their cloaks. Johnny's mind raced, calculating the distance between himself and his enemies, and their likely reaction time to any attack. They were only a few steps away. If he could surprise them, he could disarm one of them before he had time to fire. Probably. He felt Middenface tensing beside him and knew he was thinking the same thing. But some ingrained warrior's instinct told Johnny that that would be a bad move and, a moment later, he saw why.
There was a third guard situated further away, maintaining his cover, but now that Johnny knew what to look for, he could see him by the way the light bent around him creating a ghostly ripple effect in the air. With a nod and a look that was almost imperceptible to anybody else, Johnny communicated the bad news to Middenface.
They were surrounded.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAPTURED
"Don't shoot!" said Johnny. "We aren't your enemies."
"What are you doing here?" asked the first guard. He appeared to be a norm, but his chameleon cloak distorted his contours and made it impossible to know for sure. Johnny kept his eyes downcast and concentrated on keeping the alpha fire out of them. He had
been mistaken for a norm at the spaceport, and with any luck, his captors might make the same error.
"I... I... Well, geez, I don't rightly know," he said, slipping into an impression of Cain Hine. "I just heard about youse fellows up here and... Well, it ain't easy being a norm on Miltonia and I think you got the right idea. I think they should treat us better. I mean..." Remembering the mutants in the hunting party, Johnny thought it best to hedge his bets. "Don't get me wrong, some of my best pals are muties." He nodded towards Middenface. "But it ain't nothing to be proud of it, is it? The muties here, they act as if they don't wanna be cured."
"And you do?" The guard had turned his gaze upon Middenface who shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Johnny sensed his partner's discomfort with the deception. Middenface preferred to speak plainly, preferably with fists and guns.
"Go on, um, Nodule Head," Johnny urged him. "You don't have to be shy around these good people. Tell them how you feel."
Middenface shot him a murderous glare before mumbling, "You dinnae ken whit it's been like. All ma life, Ah've been kicked around and spat upon, and ah know ah deserve it, but sometimes ah think, if ah coulda have a second chance, if ah could just be rid o' this filthy curse, ah could be a good person, ah know ah could."
"We thought things'd be different here," said Johnny. "We were told everyone was equal on Miltonia. We thought it'd be a good life for both of us. But I guess we know now what happens when you let the muties take over. It ain't their fault, they just ain't equipped to rule."
Middenface let out a plaintive howl, surprising even Johnny, and fell to his knees, beating his chest in anguish. "Oh, the pain, the pain!" he wailed. "Ah only wannae be normal, fer Drokk's sake, why did ye have tae make me this way?"
Johnny winced inwardly and aimed a surreptitious kick between his partner's ribs. But Middenface's hammy performance had had the desired effect. Johnny heard the skittering sound of sliding shale; the third guard had closed in, drawn by his own curiosity. His shape was as clear as the others, now. He was another norm (probably), watching the strangers mistrustfully along the length of a notched arrow.
"How did you find us?" he asked curtly.
Johnny feigned surprise at this new voice, and contrived to lose his balance on the uneven surface and stumble towards the source of it. The third guard froze him with a pointed glare and a movement of his bow. The arrowhead was now aimed at his heart.
"Oh, you know," said Johnny vaguely. "People talk, and you fellows are making something of a name for yourselves. We just... Um, people don't always pay us much heed, and they don't watch their mouths around us, and we pick things up, you know. We did hear right, didn't we... That you can help us?"
"The pain," howled Middenface. "The pain!"
"But, hey," said Johnny, beaming at the third guard and spreading his arms wide to show that he meant him no harm, "this was a lucky break for us and no mistake, finding you guys so soon." He took another crucial step towards the guard. "How long have we been out here, Nodule Head? Can't be more than, oh, about four days."
This time, Johnny ignored the guard's warning gesture. There were only a few feet between them; they were close enough to see the change in the bowman's posture and the shift in his face that betrayed his intention to fire. Johnny made eye contact and tore into his would-be attacker's brain. The guard gasped and tears came to his eyes.
With a perfect coordination that came from years of working together, Middenface made his own move at the same time. The other two guards had taken their eyes off him, seeing his partner as the greater threat. Their mistake. His fist closed around the first guard's arrow even as it left its bow, bound for Johnny's back. A flex of his fingers was enough to snap the shaft in two. By the time the second guard had found the presence of mind to use his own weapon, Middenface had the first by the throat and was using him as a shield. The first guard yelped as he took an arrow to the shoulder. Then, Middenface threw him at the second guard and brought them both down in a tangle of limbs.
The third guard struggled manfully but was no match for Johnny's alpha eyes. His legs buckled and his arrow twanged into the stone ground. Johnny moved in to finish the job even as Middenface leapt joyously upon the man's comrades.
The fight was over in seconds.
Middenface slung an unconscious guard over each shoulder, while Johnny took the third. They dropped them out of sight behind a rocky outcrop where Johnny bound and gagged them with their own clothing.
Now that his adrenaline rush had subsided, Middenface felt empty and troubled. He sank to the ground with a heavy sigh. "Ah didnae mean it, ye know," he said in response to his partner's questioning look. "All that stuff ah said about being ashamed. ah'm proud o' what ah am. I always have been... Even when it hasnae felt like such a blessing."
Johnny smiled indulgently at him. "I know."
"It makes ye think, though. Whit'd make ye so unhappy, so short on self-respect, that ye'd come begging to these scunners fer this so-called 'cure'?"
"I guess you'd have to be pretty desperate," said Johnny. "Desperate to be somebody else."
Middenface mumbled a grudging acceptance of that point. After all, he knew what life was like for most mutants. But how was it going to get any better if they didn't all fight for their rights? If they just gave up? Many norms already viewed mutancy as a disgusting disease. If a "cure" now existed, what did that mean for those mutants who chose not to receive it, who remained true to themselves? They could only be stigmatised further.
Then, thought Middenface gloomily, there would doubtless be people who believed they shouldn't have that choice.
He shivered at the thought and tried to turn his mind to other matters. Johnny was scanning the area, his eyes blazing, seeking out clues to the disappearance of the hunting party. All of a sudden he beckoned his partner towards a black, dead-looking patch of scrub bush, and pointed to something behind it.
There was a fissure in the side of the mountain. It was narrow and rocks had been arranged in front of it to protect it from view. It was almost invisible until you were right on top of it. It didn't look as if it could lead anywhere, but Johnny's alpha eyes had clearly told him otherwise.
Communicating only with hand gestures, Middenface and Johnny returned to the unconscious guards and divested them of two of their chameleon cloaks. They wrapped the flimsy material about themselves; a tight fit around Middenface's broad shoulders. Then they drew their knives and Johnny slipped into the crack and was swallowed by darkness.
Middenface followed suit. At first, he had trouble squeezing through the narrow confines of the rocky passageway, but the fissure soon opened out into a larger tunnel, which appeared to be natural. The light from the entrance behind them died out and Middenface stumbled several times. He tried to keep Johnny in sight, but it wasn't easy since the chameleon cloak fooled his senses, merging the shape of his partner into the shadows around him.
They proceeded with caution, Johnny scanning constantly in case they ran into more concealed guards. The way remained clear, however, and soon they saw a dim, flickering light ahead of them. A moment later, they became aware of a faint humming sound and of the ground vibrating beneath their feet.
The sound became louder and the vibrations stronger as the tunnel broadened out and became lighter. Now, they could also hear a discordant rhythm of hisses and clanks, like the workings of some great machine. Middenface realised that the temperature had risen considerably. He was sweating.
They hugged the walls, letting the chameleon cloaks do their work, until they reached the end of the tunnel.
"This is getting stranger aw the time!" gasped Middenface.
The tunnel opened out into the wall of a huge crater at least a kilometre in diameter. Its floor, about twenty metres below them, was covered haphazardly with tents and ramshackle wooden huts. Halogen lamps were bolted to the wall of the crater at regular intervals; they fizzed and flickered, casting an eerie blue pallor over the whole scene.
/> They were standing inside a huge dormant volcano and could see the source of the mechanical noises. It was a mammoth steam turbine standing in the centre of the settlement, ingeniously constructed from all manner of recycled parts, and obviously powered by the heat and natural gases of the volcano itself. Rickety pipes ran from the turbine carrying steam to the various dwellings all over the camp. Somehow, Middenface reasoned, the steam had to be powering the lamps, too.
It was an amazing sight and he could have stared at it a while longer, but there were people moving between the huts and he was painfully aware that the chameleon cloak didn't make him invisible and it only camouflaged him. He and Johnny withdrew down the tunnel before they were noticed to discuss their next move.
They had to go down there, of course, and it had to be a stealth mission. They were too badly outnumbered to take the direct approach. The chameleon cloaks were their greatest asset, and the irony that the Salvationists themselves had unwittingly provided them was not lost on the pair.
"Strictly recon," suggested Johnny. "We split up, scout around for an hour or so, get the lay of the land and see if we can set eyes on Kit or the Consoler. With luck, Kit'll think he's safe in here and wouldn't have bothered to disguise himself."
"Ye really think we'll find him?" asked Middenface. "Ah've been thinking about that Rising character, and ah'm nae sure I trust him, Johnny. Whit if he lied tae us so as we'd tak' out his enemies fer him?"
"That has occurred to me," said Johnny. That didn't surprise Middenface; his partner had always been a quick thinker. "But the material in these cloaks isn't easy to find - impossible, in fact, in this part of space - and the cloaks are the Chameleon gang's trademark. I'd lay odds that Kit has been here."
Middenface accepted this point and they finalised their plans. As they crept back towards the crater end of the tunnel, another thought occurred to him and he clapped a hand on Johnny's shoulder to get his attention.
