Pandora's Redoubt

by James Axler

  The physician tapped her wrist. "The laser only fires once every twenty-two seconds. I've been timing it."

  "Must have to recharge between shots," Krysty said. "Probably why we're still here."

  "Mildred, tell me every twenty-one seconds," Ryan ordered.

  "Done." She intently studied her watch. "Now!"

  Ryan savagely threw the Leviathan to the left. There was no explosion.

  "A miss!" J.B. yelled. "It works! You're a genius, Millie."

  "This only buys us time," Ryan reminded them. "And not much of that."

  "Found it!" Doc cried out in delight, reappearing with a squat tube sealed at both ends and covered with writing. "Now this should do the job."

  "We have a bazooka?" Dean asked, a hand braced against the ceiling to keep from falling over.

  "A LAW," Doc stated, extending the launch tube. The sights automatically popped up, and the trigger button slid into view. "A light antitank weapon."

  "You can't launch a LAW in here," Ryan admonished, skirting a copse of dead trees. "The backwash will fry us!"

  "That's why I am going out on the roof."

  "What?" Krysty said.

  "It is the only way." Doc pulled over a crate and climbed on top, one hand holding the LAW while the other clawed at the ceiling panels. They were easily removed, exposing an internal web of bracings and a veined metal hatch. He undid the latch, and the hatch was almost yanked out of his grip by the wind of their speed.

  "Hold on!" Ryan shouted. Leviathan jerked to the left, the right, slowed, spun in a half circle, then lurched forward again. Jak left the ammo bin and moved over to grab Doc's leg and help him stay standing.

  "But," Dean began hesitantly, as if afraid of getting an answer, "if the missile Doesn't work..."

  J.B. answered. "A LAW is meant for tanks. It'll punch straight through solid steel."

  "What if its armour is too thick?" Dean asked. No one had anything to say in response. Once more, Leviathan bounced over a gully, the boxes and cans tumbling freely about the interior. Jak lost his grip on Doc, and momentarily the elderly man dangled from the roof, his legs kicking to find support.

  "Sorry!" Jak gasped, rising from his knees to grab Doc again.

  "Hold on tighter, Jak! I need stability!" J.B. shouted, "Ryan, can you give him a combat stretch?"

  "No! We hold still for a second, and that thing'll core us like an apple!"

  Counting steadily, Mildred watched as the Ranger bounded into view. "Twenty-one!"

  Ryan dodged. The rainbow formed and Leviathan shuddered with sledgehammer force. Doc cried out and everybody heard the whoosh of the light antitank weapon launch as he fell to the floor.

  "I missed," Doc thundered, climbing to his feet. Frustration distorted his features into a grimace. "It cannot be done. The terrain is too rugged."

  "What was that explosion?" Mildred asked, raising her fists and lowering fingers in a steady count. "It sounded a lot louder than the others."

  "Our Hummer," Dean announced, looking backward. "It's still there, but the supplies are on fire."

  Krysty angled her sideview mirror to see better. A huge bonfire was trailing the tank, gouts of flame blowing out in wild directions as cans of the condensed fuel ignited. There was a constant barrage of popping sounds as their precious cargo of ammo started cooking off in the growing inferno.

  Rushing to the rear blasterport, LB. cursed bitterly. "We've got plastique in there!" he cried. "The heat won't set it off. Plas burns easy and is as harmless as charcoal. But if a bullet hits a warm block of C-4 just right, the resulting blast will open this thing like a cheap sardine can!"

  Dropping his vest of ammo, Dean took a deep breath and then slid aside the locking bolt of the rear door. Cinching his belt tight, the boy shoved the metal portal open. The wind buffeted him, and he grabbed the jamb for support. A chain from their bumper stretched to the bonfire on wheels. The windshield was gone, burning liquid dripped off the side panels, munitions rocketing every way, and fiery orange tongues licking insanely at the sky. Even with the wind coursing around the sides of the tank, the heat reaching them was tremendous.

  "Can't see the Ranger!" Dean shouted. "Flames are too thick!"

  "Twenty-one!" Mildred called out, and the Hummer blossomed with another detonation of deafening proportions.

  "It's still there!"

  "Gaia, what in hell are you doing?" Krysty demanded, her crimson hair splaying cut in a corona, as the boy stepped onto the motorcycle ramp, one hand clutching the door handle.

  "Got to reach the chain and dump the Hummer,"

  J.B. shouted, as a bullet zinged past them. "He's the lightest. Doc, grab a seat belt and hold on to me. I'll grab Dean by the waist."

  "Me," Jak said, trying to push his way through. "Stronger than Dean."

  "But I'm the lightest! Now do as I say!" Dean snapped, for a split second sounding exactly like his father.

  "Get back in here!" Ryan commanded at the top of his lungs. "And close that bastard door!"

  Dean gestured, "But, Dad, we-"

  "Now, boy!"

  The door was closed in sullen obedience and locked tight.

  "Grab seats!" Ryan growled as he spit on each palm, one hand at a time. "This is going to be rough." Rocking the steering wheel, Leviathan began to fishtail. Again and again, Ryan jerked the wheel as if wrestling with an invisible opponent. The tank brutally swayed, boxes bursting from the storage cabinets. Doc went sprawling, his sword-stick nearly impaling its owner. Everybody else desperately clung to their seats. Ryan appeared to be seriously trying to remove the steering wheel, when the ride suddenly smoothed out and the vehicle lunged ahead with renewed speed.

  "Trailer's loose," Krysty announced, her ribs aching from the tight safety harness across her chest. "Chain snapped."

  "And the Ranger?" Mildred asked, hugging the Remington for support.

  "Can't tell," Ryan said, glancing behind. Then he saw the flaming wreckage of the Hummer explode, a million flaming bits spraying everywhere as the indomitable Ranger plowed straight through the conflagration, neither wavering nor slowing.

  "Still there," Krysty stated. She made the pronouncement sound as if she had something unclean in her mouth. "There's nothing left between us and it but air."

  "Twenty-one!"

  His temples throbbing, Ryan danced the heavy Leviathan once more. He couldn't keep this pace forever. His arms were sore from the unaccustomed strain, and every time Mildred called out the mark he damn near jumped out of his skin.

  "Any ideas?" he asked.

  "Tell you when I get one," Krysty answered, just as steady streams of tracers stitched the air on either• side of Leviathan.

  "Bracket fire!" J.B. shouted. "Trying to hold us still for a clean kill."

  "The hell with that," J.B. said, cranking a hand-wheel to traverse the starboard 40 mm rapidfire cannon. Jak centered the crosshairs mounted on the end of the stubby barrel on the tank chasing them, flipped the safety with his thumb and pulled the primary trigger. A stuttering line of bright streaks reached out from his weapon and the 40 mm high-explosive shells peppered the enemy nonstop. Lumps of mud were blown away, exposing the gleaming alloy hull underneath.

  "Twenty-one!" Mildred shouted.

  Ryan grunted with pain as he forced Leviathan to the right, then slowed in a sharply banking curve.

  Arcing to the left, he charged forward once more, his face white and sweaty.

  "What is it?" Krysty asked, concerned.

  "Nothing. I'm okay," he said, his trembling left band clutching his right biceps. The cramp was getting worse, almost unbearable, but Ryan said nothing.

  However, Krysty knew he was lying. Leviathan weighed many tons, and with no power steering the physical strain of combat-driving the colossus was taking its toll on the man. Indomitable warrior that he was, Ryan was clearly becoming exhausted. Decision made, Krysty released her seat belt, but then paused. The bulky radar console stood prominently between them, piles of spent shells f
rom the 40 mm weapon rolling about loose on the floor, and Ryan himself was strapped tight in his seat and jammed behind the wheel. There was no way for her to replace the man without stopping the vehicle and letting him climb out.

  Muttering a prayer to the Earth goddess, Krysty reached out a hand and touched the bare skin on his neck. Ryan jerked at the contact. He could hear her humming something soft and soothing. Almost instantly he felt better, more alert, even stronger. The terrible cramp in his arm disappeared as if it had never existed. Releasing him, Krysty dropped into her seat, seemingly exhausted.

  The chattering of the Vulcan cannon stopped. "Reload!" Jak demanded, clearing the breech feed. "No armor-piercing. Need antipersonnel!"

  J.B. paused at the ammo bin. "Shotgun rounds?"

  "Do it!"

  "I understand, lad," Doc said, going to the other 40 mm cannon. "Good plan. Let us go for it."

  It took both J.B. and Dean to hoist the bulky belt of 40 mm shells into the feeder mechanism of the Vulcan. Jak slammed shut the lid, cocked the hammer bolt and steadied the weapon dead on their pursuer. "On my call," the albino teen shouted. "Slow, stop for a sec!"

  Veering past a rain gully, Ryan almost turned at that, but restrained himself. "You gone suicidal?" he demanded.

  "Homicidal," Doc corrected, struggling to load the cannon by himself.

  Ryan heard the urgency in the teenager's voice and considered the request. Survival was paramount. If Jak had an idea, it was worth a chance.

  "Now!" Jak shouted, firing.

  Straightening the wheels, Ryan slammed on the brakes.

  The nose of Leviathan almost plowed into the ground as it pitched forward. Everything loose inside hurtled to the front, nearly burying Mildred and Krysty. Underneath, the multiple wheels squealed in protest as friction and inertia battled hydraulics. Bucking and shuddering, the mammoth tank ground to a stop in only a couple of dozen yards.

  Slowing its pace over the uneven ground, the Ranger paused and leveled its laser straight at them.

  Even as Ryan started moving again, Jak expended ammo as if it was limitless. The majority of the shells missed the tank entirely. Then there was a small explosion of glass.

  J.B. dropped his jaw. "It worked!"

  "Hallelujah!" Doc cried, releasing his hold on the Vulcan.

  "Scram!" Jak snapped.

  No additional encouragement was needed. Ryan hit the gas and Leviathan rolled away, building speed slowly, but steadily.

  "Twenty-one!" Mildred shouted, kicking a hot shell casing away from a can of fuel. If they weren't careful, this bucket would blow up like the Hindenburg.

  Ryan sent them wildly over the landscape, but nothing detonated. A rainbow-colored searchlight stabbed for a second, illuminating a sand dune in pearlescent beauty, then winked out.

  "You smashed the focusing lens."

  "Yep," Jak drawled proudly, patting the cannon.

  "Was a thousand-to-one shot." J.B. laughed, tilting his hat. "But he did it in under a hundred."

  "However," Ryan said, playing with the choke and gas pedal, urging the machine to go faster, "the bastard thing is still after us."

  "So?" Dean queried. "What's it going to do? Ram us?"

  "Mebbe," Ryan said, smashing through a thicket of dried brown bushes. Damnation, they were leaving the desert. "And two hundred tons of anything hitting us is still the last train west."

  "It Does not matter if the stone hits the pitcher, or the pitcher hits the stone," Doc said, brandishing his cane. "Either way it is bad for the pitcher."

  Rainbow lights poured in through the slots of the rear doors, casting multihued shadows on the interior walls.

  "We're faster," Dean offered, squatting low. "It'll never catch up."

  "Till we run out of fuel," Dix said. Sitting on the floor, he removed his glasses to rub his face, then replaced them and frowned. "We got a lot, but it's nuke-powered. Been operating for two centuries. Who knows for how much longer it can keep coming?"

  "And coming," Jak added. His hand reached out for the Vulcan and dropped away. There was nothing they had, no weapon, blaster or bomb, that could smash the Ranger. It was predark state of the art, and Leviathan was only a skydark Frankenstein, cobbled together from a hundred smaller machines.

  "Yeah, we're not free yet," Ryan agreed. "But we're still alive and kicking. Hey, Mildred!"

  Belted in, the physician turned, looking out the starboard machine blasterport. "What?"

  He jerked his head. "Check Krysty. She's been out for much too long."

  Unbuckling, Mildred started wading through the jumble of boxes and cartons covering the floor. The stocky woman had to crawl over the ammo bin for the front 75 mm recoilless before she could reach the redhead. Hands touched the alabaster face, then checked vital signs. "She's okay," the physician announced. "Just fainted. Pulse is strong, breathing regularly, pupils dilated."

  Ryan said nothing, but the relief was obvious in his face.

  Gently, Mildred dragged the unconscious woman out of the front gunner's chair and buckled her into a vacant passenger seat. Then she clambered into the front and belted herself in place.

  "The 75 mm is loaded and ready," she stated, then leaned forward scowling. "Aw hell, look at that!"

  Bounding and bucking over the uneven ground, the tank unexpectedly increased in speed as the ride went smooth, their fifteen tires humming softly in unison under the floorboards.

  "Fireblast," Ryan spit. "Flat land to the horizon. We can go faster, but so Does it."

  "Head for those weird gray mountains," J.B. suggested, a hand to the side of his face blocking the colored lights streaming in from the blasterports. Damn that thing's accuracy! "Mebbe we can go places it can't."

  "We're smaller and more nimble," Mildred agreed, working the breech mechanism to fire the recoilless. It might be pointing in the wrong direction at present, but a person never knew when that might change.

  "Mebbe we can find a bridge it's too big to go across," Dean added. "Or a narrow tunnel"

  "Cave," Jak stated, brushing the white hair from his face. His ruby-red eyes stared directly at the reflected laser lights coming in through the chinks of their battered hull. Each spot would have to be repaired later. If they lived.

  "Got a better idea," Ryan said, hunching his shoulders. "We're heading for that rad pit."

  Nobody spoke, the only sound discernible the gentle humming of the tires.

  "Radiation fries electronics. We go in there, the damn thing wouldn't dare to follow us. Too many transistors and chips. Its main comp would scram." He patted the dashboard. "But we're mostly manual."

  "True enough. Radiation destroys advanced electronics as bad as it does flesh," Mildred stated just as rainbow lights washed in through the windows and blasterports. Now that they were traveling straight and true, the Ranger was scoring a hit with every discharge of the unfocused laser.

  "But just to be sure, we better turn off everything electric," Ryan continued. "Lights, radio, the works."

  "Check." Mildred started flipping switches. The UV screen winked out, the dashboard went dark and the interior lights dimmed to nothingness.

  "And what about us?" Dean asked calmly.

  "We should be safe. Check the land," Ryan replied. "This is a really old blast crater."

  "That Does not mean it is not hot," Doc said. "I have seen much older ones still glowing at night!"

  "Our composite hull will give some protection," J.B. said hesitantly. "But we've got lots of cracks."

  "No, the radiation is too low. We'll be safe," Ryan stated brusquely. The slick, fused soil under their wheels was nearly frictionless; it was worse than driving on ice. Scenes from their awful trek through the arctic flashed through his mind. "But the Ranger won't know that"

  "Wouldn't the whitecoats program it to check rad levels?" Dean asked, worried. "Just to be sure?"

  "Why? When a nuclear bomb goes off, if the tank survives the EMP wave, it still can't go anywhere near a rad pit for hundreds of
years. And no military would plan to leave its equipment alone for that long," Mildred said.

  "How about the folks who built the redoubts in the first place?" Dean said in stark candor. Nobody had an answer to that.

  As Ryan angled Leviathan into an arroyo, the bottom of the rad pit came directly into view. Barren, featureless land, as level as a skillet, stretched into the distance, with low rolling hills rising in a perfect circle around the rim. Not a stick or a pebble marred the dead perfection, and not even a breeze seemed to disturb the pristine stillness of the hellblasted pit.

  There was no time to take a rad count, so Ryan plowed straight into the crater.

  "Here it comes!" J.B. said, as the laser rose above the hillock behind them. But before the tank came into view, the short barrel stopped and began to withdraw. "Hey, it's retreating!"

  "The trick worked," Dean breathed in relief. Hugging his Mossberg shotgun, the boy slumped in his chair, looking twice his age.

  "Advanced technology is so primitive." Doc sighed in contentment.

  "Keep going straight," Mildred said, keeping a constant watch on the hilltop. "Don't make your move until we're far, far away from this point"

  Ryan gave agreement and continued to pretend he was going to drive through the very heart of the nuke hole.

  Slowing to a complete halt, the General Electric Ranger Mark IV sat on the lee side of the low hillock reviewing its options with machine speed. SIG REP DELTA? asked the auxiliary subprocessor, after the main subprocessor didn't respond after the regulation four tries.

  The main CDP replied, Confirm. Nuclear strike zone on record. Scram factor 99. Do not proceed on this course.

  AFFIRMATIVE. QUERY: LAUNCH MISSILE SALVO?

  Negative. Supplies depleted, February 14, 2095, 1409 AM.

  CONFIRM. QUERY: FLANK ESCAPING ENEMY TANK?

  Processing.

  QUERY: RETURN TO BASE?

  Processing.

  QUERY: ABANDON PURSUIT OF TARGET?

  Negative. There was a full millisecond pause. Repairs to the primary weapon system must be performed stat.

  CONFIRM. ACCESSING FIELD REPAIR FILES... HIGHEST PROBABILITY LOCATION FOR SUCCESS IS--THE PEARL IN THE WHEEL.