by James Axler
“That was his LAV,” Doc stated in his stentorian bass.
Tilting back his fedora, J.B. gave a whistle. “Well, somebody kicked his ass, that’s for trip damn sure,” he said happily. “Mebbe he is dead. That’d sure solve a lot of problems.”
“He was probably trying to get the LAV into the garage for repairs,” Krysty guessed, running a hand along the armored hull. “Anybody know a way inside this thing, so that we can check?”
Almost too soft to hear, there came a low click and then a section of the hull jutted slightly. Quickly the companions stepped backward, bringing up their weapons, as the hatch cycled downward forming a short set of stairs.
Wordlessly, Ryan pointed to the left and right, J.B. and Krysty heading around the machine to attack from the other side.
Then his heart skipped a beat as a long, black, metal leg extended from the interior, closely followed by two more and the globular body of another droid. It took only a nanosecond for him to see this machine did not have a cyborg chiller mounted to its belly, but something else, a sleek, ferruled tube with pulsating fiber-optic cables and a narrow red lens that glowed like the eye of a demon from Hell.
“Las!” Ryan bellowed, throwing himself to the side and raising the Kalashnikov as a shield.
The same as before, he was still airborne when the beam stabbed outward. But this time it was a brilliant red beam the color of burning blood. Ryan felt the rapid-fire get hot in his hands, and when he hit the floor, he threw it away only a moment before the ammo detonated.
The blast rocked him, but he went with the force of the concussion, rolling away until hitting the wall. There was a pain in his side and another along his neck, but Ryan ignored those and pulled the SIG-Sauer as he stood, tracking and firing.
The beamed stabbed the wall next to him and he could feel the terrible heat radiating outward, it was so close. Ducking, he fired the SIG-Sauer twice, then spun and fired twice more.
Gotta keep moving, Ryan realized. Can’t let it get a bead, or I’m the last train west! Move, Cawdor, move!
Firing and weaving, he got behind the egg-shaped wag and the droid went out of sight. Then it rose above the vehicle, the dead eyes searching for him. He locked gazes with the machine, and the smooth hull of the wag turned yellow, orange, pink…and the laser cut through the vehicle less than an inch away.
Raising his blaster, Ryan cursed. With the machine on the other side, he couldn’t shoot through the LAV to hit it! Using the wag as a shield had saved his life, but now he couldn’t fight back!
Suddenly there was a thundering detonation from the opposite side of the tunnel, and the droid dropped from sight as a hot wind breathed around the armored treads underneath, the metal pinging and cracking from shrapnel.
That had been a gren! Knowing this tunnel was the best place to bomb the droid, he yanked out his gren, pulled the ring, flipped off the spoon and lofted the bomb over the wag. Then he ducked.
If possible, the second blast sounded even louder than the first, and something heavy slammed into the LAV, making it shake.
Glancing upward, Ryan saw a cloud of smoke billowing in the tunnel, then Doc appeared from around the first turn in the passage and waved him on. That was all he needed. Breaking into a sprint, Ryan charged around the wag and across the empty space. Friendly hands grabbed his clothing and yanked him behind the metal wall just as the laser cut through the smoke, missing him by less than a hair.
“Everything!” Ryan commanded, holstering the SIG-Sauer and pulling the second gren from his pocket. He armed the charge and threw it hard at the opposite wall. The mil sphere hit and bounced out of sight into the next section.
The rest of the companions did the same, and the tunnel shook from the continuous bombardment of high-explosive plas. The lights went out with a crash of glass, the explosions casting distorted shadows as they went off.
Then the droid lumbered around the corner only a yard away from the companions. One eye was gone and a leg was bent, but it still moved with grim resolve.
“Dark night, the nuke sucker is armored!” J.B. shouted, throwing the unprimed gren in his hand with all of his strength. The metal sphere hit the remaining eye of the droid and bounced off harmlessly.
Then Jak and Doc fired together, the .357 Colt Python and the .44 LeMat sounding like chained thunder. Even as the droid came closer, the eye shattered, and it froze, motionless.
Moving around the corner, Mildred took a full second to aim, then gently squeezed the trigger on her AK-47. The fiber-optic cables of the deadly laser were ripped from their couplings and the housing bent slightly.
But as they watched, something rose from the top of the droid, a flexing cable with a tiny light at the end. It pointed at them, and the body rotated, the legs extending and contracting as the war machine glided forward.
Gaia, the thing had a spare eye? Krysty cursed bitterly as she moved away, dropping a clip and reloading fast. One droid to capture, a second to ace. Somebody wants Delphi eating dirt even more than we do, she thought. Now that it was out of the LAV, the robotic machine had them in a chilling zone, with nowhere to hide. Some dim recess of her mind rationalized that this was probably why it had laid in waiting inside the broken wag just like a real spider, waiting for the flies to get close before it pounced.
Retreating fast, Jak and Doc fired again, throwing more smoke than lead, with the others firing away with the Kalashnikovs. The combination was nearly deafening, and it became impossible to shout any suggestions as the desperate group ran along the zigzag tunnel, getting only a split second of respite before the droid appeared once more seeking fresh targets, the lethal energy beam constantly flashing out to punch small molten holes in the metal walls and floor.
Tossing grens, the companions scrambled around the last corner, then broke for the lines of parked wags. As the charges detonated, the laser cut through the swirling dark smoke, shattering the rear window of an SUV and exploding the front tire on a compact foreign car.
Ryan and the others barely got behind cover before the droid stepped out of the tunnel looming high, almost brushing the ceiling. Obviously it was trying to stay away from the grens, and with just cause. Two of its legs dangled uselessly from its armored body, a third was badly bent and there was a crackling electric display crawling around the ruin of the second eye.
At the sight, Ryan impulsively touched the patch covering his own damaged orb and bizarrely felt a instant of sympathy. Then cold reason took over and he swung up the Steyr to fire at the busted section. That would be the best chance to reach the minicomp inside the machine. Holding his breath, Ryan put two rounds directly into the charred opening, then the laser impacted on the other side of the convertible he was behind. The beam sliced through the fabric as if it was mist and moved along the side in a sweeping maneuver. Ryan ducked and felt the heat of another near miss. Then he stood and fired again into the eyehole.
This time he was rewarded by a fresh geyser of sparks. The machine titled slightly, but then righted itself and advanced once more. Moving among the civilian wags, the droid stabbed out the laser again and again, breaking windows and mirrors as he tried to track the scurrying norms.
Ducking behind a sedan, Krysty got a clear view of the machine and rose to shoot at the laser. Already weakened, the casing was slammed away, exposing the delicate crystals and wiring. As the droid turned toward her, the woman stood her ground and fired again. In an explosion of crystal, the laser winked out, chips and wires sprinkling to the floor.
J.B. and Jak whooped in triumph. Then the dead laser dropped off the droid, a hatch flipped open on the left side and another weapon cycled into view—larger, covered with smooth metal, with a small hole at the end of the barrel instead of a crystal.
“Needler!” Mildred cried in warning, firing her Kalashnikov. The physician hit the weapon twice, the 7.62 mm rounds ricocheting off the dense housing as if the rounds were thrown gravel. Then there was a low hiss from the droid and the Cadillac the physic
ian was hiding behind violently shook from the barrage of 1 mm fléchettes.
Ordering the companions to get down, Ryan threw a gren high to detonate in the air above the machine. It shook from the blow and hosed a stream of fléchettes in his direction, almost tearing the front off the battered old pickup.
By the Three Kennedys, this weapon is even worse than the laser! Doc realized, triggering the LeMat and AK-47. Internally, the man struggled to recall if he had faced such a device before. Most of how he escaped from the Chronos whitecoats was lost in foggy memories. There was something, a symbol, some sort of a circle within a circle…
Reloading the rapid-fire, Doc shook off the useless recollection. But even as he shot again, the old man made a mental note to tell the others about the symbol. It could be very useful later on. A circle in a square? A triangle…? It was gone, like so much of his past.
Mildred threw another gren and the droid picked it off in midflight, the plas creating a fireball directly above a limousine bearing mil license plates. The blast crumpled the vehicle, and incredibly, the theft alarm began to bleat.
Unable to shout directions again, Ryan made a decision and threw his last gren at the limo. It hit the floor and rolled underneath before exploding, the blast flipping the wag over to crash on a small compact car. But thankfully, the alarm ceased to sound.
Popping up into view, Jak snapped off two rounds from his Colt Python, then ducked down, a blurry stream of fléchettes going through the air exactly where his head had been a split second ago.
“This is my last gren!” J.B. shouted from somewhere among the parked wags, letting everybody know it was anything but a gren. Then a pipe bomb appeared, flying through the air, a dangling fuse sizzling and spitting.
But as if recognizing a superior threat, the droid moved sideways and walked over several wags to take refuge behind the fuel pumps. The pipe bomb fell on the roof of a Volkswagen Beetle and started to roll of when it cut loose. The wag was blown sideways off the floor and tumbled over a dozen other wags, breaking windows and headlights until it came to rest against the workbench, rattling the assortment of tools for a hundred feet.
Fuming with impatience, Ryan scowled at the droid and wiped his hands dry on his pants. With the droid poised above the fuel pumps, Ryan knew there was nothing they could do. Only grens seemed to damage the blasted armor of the thing, and if they used one now, it could ignite the stored supplies of condensed fuel, filling this entire level of the redoubt with a tidal wave of flame that could chill all of them for sure.
His mind whirled with a dozen battle plans and settled on the best. “Take it out!” Ryan shouted, and threw an unprimed gren.
A valley of grens sailed toward the droid. They landed, the tape still holding the arming lever firmly in place. But the machine responded anyway and hurried away from the potential firestorm.
“Run for it!” Ryan roared, and started for the door to the stairs.
Crawling over the lines of wags, the droid tried to cut the companions off, launching short bursts from the needler. But this time, they threw live grens and gained precious yardage with every blinding detonation.
Ramming open the door with a shoulder, Ryan rushed in and held it aside for the others. As they charged through, he slammed the door shut and dropped to the floor. Almost instantly, it shook violently all over, the hard metal denting from the incoming fléchettes. There was a brief pause, followed by another burst. Then silence. Something fumbled with the door latch. Another burst of fléchettes, and more silence.
As the seconds ticked away, Ryan crawled to the others and explained his idea.
Suddenly they heard the sound of the elevator starting to descend.
Moving fast, the companions rushed back into the garage level. Grabbing a fire ax off the wall behind the workbench, Ryan slammed it into the double doors of the elevator and twisted with all of his might. There was a metallic creak, a sharp crack and the portals slid aside, exposing the dark shaft.
Glancing down, Ryan could see the elevator cage slowly descending the shaft. Perfect.
Turning, he saw Doc arrive, dragging a thick hose connected to the fuel pumps, with Krysty at the controls.
Grabbing the nozzle, Ryan pulled the handle to maximum flow as the redhead threw the main switch. For a stomach-twisting minute, only air hissed from the hose, then the pumps sluggishly engaged, the hose went stiff and fuel gushed from the end to cascade down the dark shaft.
Out of breath, J.B., Mildred and Jak arrived with their arms full of the unprimed grens. Setting them down, they started to yank off the safety tape and pull pins as fast as they could.
Suddenly there was a pounding sound from the elevator cage in the shaft as the Niagara of flammable fuel arrived.
“Now,” Ryan growled through gritted teeth, and the others started to lob the grens and two more pipe bombs.
When the last charge went over the edge, Ryan shut off the nozzle and backed away fast, the others helping him move it to a safe distance. Even as Krysty shut off the pumps, there were more bangs from the shaft, followed by a hail of fléchettes. Then the grens cut loose in a nuke storm of explosions, the detonations changing into a sustained roar as the hundreds of gallons of fuel ignited. The entire base seemed to shake from the confined blast, then a volcano of flame vomited through the open doors, reaching out for yards and licking at several of the parked cars.
Protecting the vulnerable fuel pumps with their bodies, the companions turned their backs to the blast and took the pounding. The heat cooked the air from their lungs and the muffled thunder inside the shaft seemed to go on forever. Then it eased somewhat and died away completely.
Gasping for breath, the companions staggered away from the pumps and returned to the elevator. Thick clouds of smoke blocked their view down the shaft. They listened closely for several minutes, but there was only the sound of the heated metal creaking as it expanded slightly. Then one of the braided cables that supported the cage snapped with a sharp twang.
“Th-think that did it?” Mildred wheezed, weaving slightly. She touched the metal doors of the elevator and instantly withdrew her hand. Damn, that was hot!
“Dunno. Only one way to tell for sure,” Ryan replied gruffly, hefting a Kalashnikov. “J.B. and Krysty, stay here with Mildred. If anything goes wrong, pour more fuel down the shaft until it nuking floods! Jack and Doc, with me. And keep those big-ass blasters ready.” The .357 Magnum and the .44 miniballs had a lot more penetration power than the 9 mm Parabellum rounds of the SIG-Sauer or the 7.62 mm rounds of the Kalashnikovs, and they might need every bit of it if the droid had escaped and now was loose in the redoubt.
Nodding agreement, everybody moved fast.
Going to the workbench, Ryan grabbed the ax and hurried down the stairs with the other two men. At each level, they paused to check the elevator doors, but saw nothing amiss. Finally they smelled smoke, and wisps of fumes faintly colored the air, the wall vents already struggling to clear atmosphere.
Reaching the bottom level, they ran past the nuclear reactor and paused at the sight of roiling clouds of smoke coming from the bulging elevator doors. Diligently, the wall vents were audibly trying to clear away the pollution, but more fumes were issuing from the elevator than the vents could dissipate.
Proceeding carefully, Ryan crept along the wall, with Doc and Jak close behind, their big-bore blasters at the ready. Gesturing, Ryan directed the men to take positions behind the massive steel pipes feeding water to the cooling units of the nuclear reactor. They nodded and assumed firing stances. Alone, Ryan moved closer to the elevator and strained to hear any movement behind the battered doors. But there was only the steady crackle of the dying flames.
Unexpectedly, a strange rushing noise came from the ceiling and a deluge of white foam gushed out from hidden fire sprinklers. With a curse, Doc holstered his wet LeMat, the black powder rendered useless from the moisture, and swung up his AK-47, easing back the arming bolt as quietly as possible.
Covered with the sticky goo, Ryan eased closer to the double doors, waited a minute, then slipped the ax blade into the charred rubber seal. Bracing his boots against the slippery floor, he twisted the wooden handle and the doors squealed in torment as they were forced aside, then jammed solid in the wall. A wall of smoke rolled out to fill the corridor with Stygian darkness.
Quickly stepping back, Ryan blinked the smoke from his eye trying to see inside the cage, then something metallic moved and the head of the droid filled the opening.
The needler hissed, chewing a hole through the wall, missing Ryan by a good foot, then it started angling in his direction. Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, the Deathlands warrior swung the fire ax with both arms and buried it to the shaft into the damaged eye of the machine.
Jerking wildly, the droid yanked the ax from his grip as it began shaking and shuddering, fat blue sparks crawling all over the damaged hull. The needler fired randomly at the floor and ceiling, then ran empty.
Ryan pulled his SIG-Sauer and put an entire clip into the other eyehole, hammering the metal aside. A moment later Doc and Jak were at his side, handcannons booming thunder, the heavy-caliber rounds hammering deeper, and farther, into the armored machine. For some reason that seemed to reduce the shuddering, and Ryan sensed danger, so he grabbed the ax to pull it free with a grinding noise, then slammed it in again.
The ceiling foam slowed to a trickle as the resilient machine turned toward Ryan. Doc drew his LeMat, shoved the barrel into a tiny rent and hoped the weapon would fire. The foot-long lance of flame from the pitted muzzle seemed to fill the interior, and the droid went motionless, then dropped limply to the floor of the elevator.
Not trusting the predark machine, Ryan retrieved the ax and hacked at the body of the droid until the protective armor sheathing came off, revealing the interior workings. Now the three men fired their weapons into the complex assemblage of advanced technology until the delicate circuitry was reduced to a pile of loose debris.
