A Fistful of Strontium

by Jaspre Bark

  "Ah hope we dinnae have tae go through aw that talkin' again," he said. "Ah hope he just tells us where the scunner is and has done wi' it."

  He didn't.

  Even though he had previously spent several tedious hours in the Consoler's company, Middenface still wasn't prepared for the sight of him. Before he could catch himself, he exhaled sharply and held his hand up over his face as though he was shielding his eyes from a bright light. "Sorry," he said, remembering his manners.

  "I've been hearing reports of your reckless exploits," said the Consoler with a smile. Also in the room were Elephant Head, Doubletalk, the captain of the camp guards, and a norm called Walrus on account of his huge blond moustache. "Come and join me for some purple tea," he offered, pouring himself a bowl of exotic-smelling liquid.

  "If ye dinnae mind, ah think ah'll pass," said Middenface.

  "Suit yourself." The Consoler squeezed ink from what looked like a tiny squid into his bowl. "It's very good for the liver." He manoeuvred his misshapen bulk onto a cushion and bid everyone else to sit, too. Middenface groaned inwardly as he remembered how numb his backside had gotten the last time he had been in this room.

  "I have to say, I did hope that if you saw what we were up against you'd at least show some sympathy for our cause," the Consoler continued. "I didn't imagine you'd respond quite so actively, though."

  "It was grossly irresponsible," barked Walrus. "It put months of intelligence-gathering at risk and the security of the camp in danger, leaving us wide open to detection by the enemy."

  Middenface clenched his fists, grinding his teeth as he bit back the urge to feed Walrus his own facial hair. "Now just a minute," he growled. "We rescued three innocent people. Two o' them norms, mind, from the men ye're supposed tae be fightin'..."

  The Consoler stepped in just as Middenface was thinking of the best four-letter word to describe Walrus. "Please forgive my associate," he said. "He has worked very hard to guarantee the security of our camp. He's not as used to taking the offensive as you both are."

  "I'll be ready when the time comes," said Walrus, pushing his chest out.

  "I'm sure you will," the Consoler placated him.

  "That's why we need men like you on our side," said Doubletalk. "To help us take our campaign to the next level. We need to liberate this camp and others like it."

  "I might not have approved of your methods," said Elephant Head. "But you certainly proved yourselves under combat conditions. If anyone could lead a successful raid... Consoler, don't you see? We can take action, at last. With Johnny and Middenface on our side, we can liberate all the camps and build an army large enough to destroy this corrupt police state!"

  Middenface didn't like the way the conversation was going. Neither did Johnny.

  "Listen," he said. "I admit you've got a reason to fight for what's happening here on Miltonia, but it's not our struggle. We're not here to get involved in local politics. We came here to capture an escaped felon. We just want to collect him and then go pick up our bounty."

  "Best o' luck to ye and aw, but we're bounty hunters ye ken," added Middenface.

  The mood in the room completely changed. Elephant Head, so enthusiastic a moment ago, retreated into sullen silence. Walrus sneered and gave the others a look that said, "I told you so." Doubletalk was crestfallen and, not knowing how to respond, he looked to the Consoler to save the situation.

  "You did promise to tell us the whereabouts of Kit," continued Johnny. "We made good on our side of the bargain. Now we need you to uphold your end."

  The Consoler nodded, then went very quiet and stared at the floor. Middenface couldn't believe it. The flaming mutie did nothing but talk for hours, and then, just as he was about to say something interesting, he suddenly shut up. Finally the Consoler looked up.

  "Would you leave us alone?" he said to Elephant Head, Doubletalk and Walrus.

  "You're not going to start collaborating with these Strontium Dogs, are you?" snarled Walrus.

  "I gave my word," said the Consoler firmly, "and I mean to honour it."

  "But Consoler, I th-thought w-we..." Doubletalk stammered.

  The Consoler silenced him and sent them all outside. The three high-ranking Salvationists seemed angry and confused at being dismissed in such an offhand manner.

  The Consoler didn't speak for what seemed like an age after they had left. Middenface didn't know what to say himself, so he left it to Johnny.

  "I know you might be reluctant to betray a former comrade," said Johnny. "But if you knew the things that Kit has done and what he's capable of, you wouldn't feel anywhere near as loyal to him."

  "I know all too well what Kit has done," said the Consoler quietly. "And I don't think anyone is as aware as I am of what he is capable of doing. You see, Kit is my brother."

  "Yer brother!" Middenface blurted.

  "My twin, to be exact."

  Middenface's brain whirred slowly into action. "But... Now hold on a minute! Ye said yer boys here had nothin' tae do wi' killin' Moosehead. Now ye're tellin' us ye sent yer ain brother in tae dae the job!"

  "Kit has nothing to do with the Salvationists and never has," said the Consoler. "He and I parted company a long time ago, and we haven't remained in touch. I even changed my name. I arrived on Miltonia as George Smith. News of Kit's criminal exploits was rife at the time. I feared that, even back then, if my connection to him were known, I would have been turned away."

  "He's your twin, you say," said Johnny.

  "We're identical, or at least we used to be. I've absorbed and passed on so many mutations that I've changed quite considerably. We even share the same mutation. We've chosen to develop it in different ways, but we have essentially the same abilities: to adapt our own DNA using that of others as a template."

  "Then that's why he came here," guessed Johnny. "He was looking for a place to hide out after he killed Moosehead and turned to his long-lost twin brother for help. Did he want you to smuggle him off the planet?"

  "I don't know," said the Consoler.

  "Whit dae ye mean, ye don't know?"

  "I never got a chance to talk to him. Kit turned up much as you did. He slipped past the guards at a side entrance and infiltrated the camp. I kept expecting him to come and see me but he never did. I wanted him to come to me of his own free will, so I didn't alert the guards to his presence. After spending a day and a half among us, he began to arouse suspicion. A few people were talking about him, realising that they hadn't seen him before and didn't know where he had come from. As soon as he heard this, he fled."

  "Why didn't he use his shape-changing abilities to disguise himself?" asked Johnny.

  "I don't know that either," said the Consoler. "I tried to read his thoughts, but sadly-"

  "Hey!" Middenface interjected again. "Ah thought ye said ye couldnae read minds!"

  "As a rule, I can't. However, Kit and I had a strong psychic bond from the moment we were born. Our thoughts have always been an open book to each other... Until now. I could feel Kit's physical presence in the camp but I couldn't make mental contact with him no matter how hard I tried. Somehow, he has found a way to shield his thoughts from me."

  "Then you don't know where he is now?" asked Johnny with a worried expression.

  "I didn't say that," said the Consoler. "Sometimes, when I concentrate and block out the rest of the camp, I can extend my radar just far enough to find him."

  Middenface leaned forward eagerly. "Where?"

  "I can't tell you exactly where he's hiding out because he slips in and out of my range. I suspect he has unfinished business with us. In any case, the signal comes from the same direction. But it's a bit of a strange signal, I must confess." The Consoler sighed, evidently reluctant to impart the information but bound by his honour. "I believe that, if you proceed on a bearing of approximately one hundred and twelve degrees from this base for a little over two miles, you will reach the optimal area in which to concentrate your search."

  "Thank you f
or this information," said Johnny solemnly. "You're the first person we've met since we came to Miltonia who's remained true to his word."

  "Without his word, a man is nothing," said the Consoler. "I know my brother has done terrible things and I know he hasn't finished paying for them, but I would dearly like to see him just once before you take him back. I promise he'll remain in your custody. In return, I'll arrange for your safe and quick passage out of these mountains."

  "You've treated us okay so far," said Johnny. "It's a deal."

  "Thank you," said the Consoler, sadly.

  Even Middenface could see how hard it was for him to turn in his own brother. He almost felt sorry for him. The Salvationists' leader may have liked the sound of his own voice a bit much, but he had kept his word. He was beginning to earn Middenface's respect, and that wasn't an easy thing to do.

  Middenface eyed the cooling bowl of congealed tea as they shook hands and said their farewells, and commended himself for having had the good sense not to try any.

  Word of the daring rescue that Johnny and Middenface had pulled off had spread right through the camp by the time they were ready to leave. Unfortunately, the news that they weren't planning to stay had not. Johnny noted guiltily that their ill-advised stunt had brought a whole new mood to the encampment. The residents seemed filled with hope and determination, as if they sensed a change coming in their fortunes.

  Everyone wanted to shake his and Middenface's hands, share a meal or a cup of tea with them. Several Salvationists offered them prized delicacies they had managed to scavenge and save for a special occasion. Johnny watched as, for the first time in his life, Middenface turned down hard liquor. It was good stuff, too; ten year-old single malt scotch from another world. Middenface sorely needed a drink - they both did - but neither of them had the heart to accept the precious liquid under what they knew were false pretences.

  Youngblood bounded up to them as they stood at the iron rungs in the crater wall that would take them back to the surface. "Are you guys off on another mission already?" he asked.

  "Not exactly," said Johnny.

  "I've been made a scout," said Youngblood proudly. "I'm going out on the next reconnaissance trip. There's even talk of liberating more prisoners. You've inspired the whole camp. I don't know how to thank you for rescuing me. I only hope I can prove myself worthy of fighting by your side when the time comes."

  "Look, Youngblood," Johnny looked into the eager mutant's eyes, finding it painful to say what he had to. "We're not going on a mission for the Salvationists. We're not a part of this cause, we never have been. We're S/D agents. Everything we've done while we've been here has been in the cause of tracking down a felon."

  Youngblood's face fell. He didn't know whether to believe Johnny at first; it was obvious he didn't want to. "You're not going to fight to save all those people you saw locked up in that place?" he said. "Then why did you help me? You rescued me for nothing if you turn your back on everything you saw and just walk away."

  "I'm sorry that we're not the men you thought we were," said Johnny. Then he turned and began to climb up the crater wall.

  Middenface punched the disillusioned mutant affectionately on the shoulder. "Ye tak' care of yerself," he said, and followed Johnny up the rungs and out of the camp.

  Neither Johnny nor Middenface could bear to look back at the brave mutant whose illusions they had just shattered.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE FACE OF THE ENEMY

  The arrows flew out of nowhere; six from the right and six from the left. Caught in the crossfire, Johnny had a fraction of a second to react before he was skewered. His combat reflexes kicked in, twisting him around and bearing him to the ground almost without the need for conscious thought on his part. An arrowhead grazed his temple but didn't break the skin. Middenface, who had been a short way ahead of him, wasn't so lucky.

  Johnny's heart sank as he heard the grunt of pain and realised that his partner had been hit. Middenface's ample frame spun around, seemingly in slow motion, and fell like a brick.

  Johnny scrambled over to him, keeping low, painfully aware that a second volley could come at any moment. To his relief, just one arrow had pierced Middenface's shoulder, sinking into the muscle tissue. It was painful but they had both seen worse. He would survive... that was, if they could find a way out of their current predicament.

  Johnny was glad of one thing. He had begun to fear that their cause was a lost one, even armed with the Consoler's information. It had been another long day of plodding through the grey, dead mountains, and watching the sun sink inexorably beyond the farthest peak, until the task of finding a single fugitive out here without technology had begun to seem impossible.

  Evidently, their target had found them. And he had friends.

  Or had he? There should have been more arrows by now. The bowmen certainly had time to reload. Johnny dared to raise his head and take a look around him and as expected, he saw a broken tripwire which had been strung between two rocks. Middenface followed his gaze and looked suitably chagrined. He had walked into a trap.

  The bounty hunters rolled to their feet and ran together as one. The first arrows may have been unleashed automatically, but chances were the wire had also been linked to some sort of alarm system. There was no way of knowing how long they had to find cover before somebody responded to that alarm.

  The question was soon answered. Even as Johnny and Middenface dropped behind a convenient outcrop, another arrow whistled over their heads. Then, there was silence. Their unseen attacker was waiting for them to show themselves.

  Johnny longed for the weight of his Westinghouse blaster in his hands. Even a Salvationist crossbow would have been useful, or one of their chameleon cloaks, but when they had turned their backs on the Consoler's guerrilla band, they had been obliged to hand their equipment back to them.

  Middenface braced himself against the mountainside, and he clenched his teeth to bite back a scream as he pulled the arrow from his shoulder. As always, Johnny admired his fortitude. The arrowhead came free, at last, in a spray of blood, and Middenface flung it aside in disgust. He sat back, breathing heavily, his face shining with sweat and his eyes moist with relief. Johnny didn't ask how he was because the question would have been useless. Whatever his state of health, Middenface would have maintained that he could keep fighting. Johnny knew he would have to keep an eye on him, though.

  He removed his helmet and raised it cautiously over the top of the outcrop. An arrow flew past it, missing it by a hair. It was followed a couple of seconds later by one that struck the helmet squarely and glanced off it. This told Johnny three things: their opponent hadn't moved, he was an excellent shot, and he was probably alone.

  "Kit Jones," he called out on a hunch. "We know you're there. You're surrounded. There's nowhere to run. Lay down your weapons and step out into the open with your hands in the air." There was no reply.

  "We know where he is," said Middenface. "Ah say we split up an' come at him frae both sides."

  "Whichever way we go, it means crossing open ground," Johnny pointed out. "He'll have a clear shot at us."

  "He can't tak' us both doon at once."

  "I don't know, Middenface. The Consoler said Kit's powers are essentially the same as his. What if he shares his brother's psychic radar? We can't get the drop on someone who can sense us coming."

  "We don't chance it now," said Middenface, "we'll be pinned doon here till we die of exposure. If we gottae gae out at all, ah say we do it in a blaze o' glory."

  Johnny had to admit he had a point and nodded curtly. He scanned his surroundings and looked for the least hazardous route out of their hiding place. When his gaze returned to Middenface, he was alarmed to see that he hadn't moved. He was breathing heavily and his eyes had glazed over.

  "It's ma blood, Johnny! It feels like it's on fire!"

  Johnny quickly retrieved the arrow that had wounded his partner. One sniff at its tip was enough to confirm his wors
t fears. "Poison," he said grimly.

  "All the more reason we... should rush the scunner now, before ah'm too weak tae... haul ma carcass over there and hand out some... some well-deserved..." Middenface made a determined effort to rise but it was no use. He collapsed into a panting heap, sweating ever more profusely. He clenched his fists, and his eyes betrayed his pain and his anger at himself for his weakness.

  Johnny had rarely felt more helpless. He never felt the need for technology more than at that moment, when there was none to be found. Civilisation, with its hospitals and medical equipment, seemed an impossible distance away with no hope of a hovercar or jetpacks to speed up their journey. There was an outside chance that the Salvationists could help Middenface, but given the evident speed with which the poison was working its way through his system, Johnny knew he couldn't carry his heavy partner back to their encampment in time to save his life. What he wouldn't give for his short-range teleporter right now! Trapped out here, he didn't even have water to bathe his friend's wound. All that he had was the small, precious amount left in their bottles.

  He only had one hope and it was a desperately slim one. Controlling his voice, he called out to Kit again and forced himself to speak calmly and slowly despite the urgency of the situation.

  "Don't be an idiot, Kit. You can't keep this up forever. You're outnumbered and we can wait as long as it takes - for days if necessary. You have to sleep some time."

  For an unbearably long time, there was silence again. Then, even as Johnny was beginning to despair, a voice rang out across the mountainside as calm and confident as his own had been.

  "That's twice you've lied to me," said Kit Jones. "I don't think I am surrounded and I don't think you can wait. There are only two of you, aren't there? And thanks to the magnetinium field, you can't call for backup. You don't even have ranged weapons or you would have used them by now. I think you're the ones who are in trouble. I only caught a glimpse of you as you ran, but it was enough to see that the big guy was stuck by one of my special arrows, and there's blood on the ground. By now, I expect he's lost all muscle control. Has his tongue turned black yet?"