Lost Gates (7 page)

Crabbe smiled slyly. “I think you know it is, Brian. But if you want to play it that way, then fine. I believe the marks on this paper show the bases where the disk might be. And they also have something that shows you how to work the thing—” he gestured at the mat-trans unit “—but I don’t understand the way that they used to write stuff down predark. There ain’t no one in the ville who does. That kind of stuff has never been any use to us before.”

“Couldn’t you just ask someone else to read it for you?” Mildred asked, breaking her silence. She could barely keep the sardonic edge from her voice. “Seems a whole lot of bother just to look for us to read a list for you.”

Crabbe stared at her. He seemed to be torn between towering rage and astonishment. The latter won out.

“For fuck’s sake, how do people as stupe as you get to be the keepers of the secrets? Fuck’s sake, Brian,
haven’t you ever thought that it might be an idea to keep Millicent from opening her stupe mouth?” Before Ryan had a chance to answer, Crabbe sighed then continued. “Of course they know how to do it in places around here, but you think I’m going to let any of them in on the secret? I’d be forever looking over my bastard shoulder. Sure, I could say little about it, but there would always be questions. I don’t want to be distracted by those fucking insects while I’m about my work.”

“So you want us to read that list for you, then go to all of these places and try to find the disk you want,” Mildred stated, bristling at the way in which Crabbe had spoken of—rather than to—her. The fact that he kept getting their names wrong was also irritating her out of all proportion. “So what, Mr. Smart-ass, is to stop us finding your disk and then not coming back?”

Crabbe stared at her as though he couldn’t believe she could speak to him in this manner. “Brian,” he said softly, “you should really keep a better hold on your people.”

Ryan, on the other hand, was content to let Mildred lead, to see where it took them. “She has a very good question,” he said. “I would have asked it myself. So would any of us.”

Crabbe snorted, shook his head and turned away. It took him some time to compose himself. When he had, he turned back to them, shaking his head again.

“Shit, just how stupe do you think I am? Look around you. I got men with blasters aimed at you, could take you out anytime, and yet you still talk to me like I was shit. You’ve either got balls the size of a fucking
boulder, or you’re triple stupe. And that I don’t believe. Is this your way of pushing me, see how far I’ll go?”

Okay, Ryan figured, maybe he wasn’t quite the stupe he had him figured for. But still, how was he going to work this out? And why the nuking hell did Crabbe assume the nonexistent disk was in one of those six redoubts out of the dozens in the Deathlands? It just didn’t make sense.

Crabbe stood over them. He gestured to the rear of the room. “You’ve seen the sec. McCready doesn’t like you, I can see that from his face. Nelson’s a mean bastard. That’s why I put him in charge. He’d gladly blow you all away now. He’s sick of chasing you and getting nowhere, so he might be relieved that you’re here now, but he still fucking hates your guts for all the trouble you’ve caused him. All I’ve got to do is say. But if I do, just ’cause you’re all a pain in the ass, I have a problem.”

“What we know,” J.B. stated. “You want it. And not just that.”

“No,” Crabbe said softly. “Not just that. What then, J.T.?”

“You want us to go on the hunt because you don’t want to leave here. You want to stay at the center of things.”

“Smart man. I don’t know what lies at the end of each journey. Might be nothing, might be someone like me. I’d rather you faced that. You’re used to it. And you’ll come back. I can make sure of that.”

Again, the sly smile crossed his face.

“See, you don’t think I’d go to all the trouble that I have and then just let you go off as you are, do you? Do
I really look like that kind of a fuckwit? No, I have a real simple plan. I might not be able to read, but I can count. Six lines on this sheet,” he said, holding it up in front of them once more, “and six of you. So I pair you up, and while one of you goes and searches, then the other four are my prisoners here. If you don’t come back, then say hello to the farm.”

“What’s to stop any of us taking our chances?” Ryan questioned.

Crabbe laughed. “From what I hear, with you people it’s all for one and one for all. That’s your strength. Thing is, it’s also your weakness.”

Crabbe was, as he was so fond of telling everyone, a fair man. Certainly, he had continued to say that to Ryan and his companions many times, until they had reached the point where it was like the drip of water torture, the syllables like spikes to the brain. It was an interesting definition of fair under which he worked. In essence, although he would give them no real choice over the undertaking of the mission—do it or buy the farm—he wouldn’t expect them to embark without some kind of rest or recuperation. Because he was fair. Not because it had been his sec men who had dragged them across wasteland while bound hand and foot.

So, it was fairness that came at a price, and with a large amount of provision. But tiredness and the erosion of spirit that came with aching weariness could do a lot to alter perspectives. What would have seemed very little, if not an insult under any other circumstances, was now welcomed.

Crabbe decreed that it wouldn’t be fair to his new “partners” in the business of finding the disk if he didn’t allow them to rest and prepare for the task ahead. It occurred to all of them that this may have had something to do with the fact that a rested and prepared team was more likely to succeed. But to say as much would
have been pointless at best, and provocative at worst. Leave it until the time was right to strike.

After all, Crabbe did have a point. None of them was in a fit state to take on anyone. Sore, aching limbs were matched by a fuzziness of the mind, an after-effect of the drug that had enabled Valiant to sell them like so much feed.

So it was with an overwhelming sense of relief, rather than anything else, that they allowed themselves to be led to the redoubt’s dorms. McCready escorted them himself. He was hostile and suspicious, and so would trust none of his men not to screw up. After Crabbe dismissed them, McCready and three of his men accompanied the companions to the level on which the dorms were housed. Before they left the baron and Sal to pore over the sheet that held, allegedly, the answers sought by Crabbe, Mildred stopped to ask if she could visit the medical facilities. When Crabbe, suspicion showing in his tone, asked her why, she indicated Doc.

“If you know anything about us, then you know that he’s a little crazy at the best of times. I think he took a hell of a blow on the head, and the last thing you want—shit, that we want—is him going a little more crazy on our ass.”

Crabbe had looked at the still dazed Doc, who grinned blankly when he saw the baron focus on him, and had decided that she was right. So two sec men accompanied Mildred while she went to the medical facility. To her surprise, it hadn’t been looted.

“So you boys don’t believe in the power of medi
cine?” she asked idly while she rifled the room for supplies.

The sec men didn’t answer. Undeterred, she continued, even though she figured that she may as well be talking to herself.

“I’m really surprised. This stuff is at a premium out there. Good jack for some of it, and a hell of a lot of use for it among your people. I would have thought that Crabbe would want to use it, rather than let it go to waste.”

“Can’t do that when this place is still under wraps,” one of the sec men mumbled.

“Shut the fuck up,” his partner snapped.

“Don’t matter if she knows,” the first man replied in peevish tones. “Ain’t like she’s gonna get the chance to mouth off about it, right? They ain’t going nowhere near the ville.”

“Shithead, don’t say no more,” the second sec man said in an exasperated voice. The first man took the point and clammed up. But the exchange had told Mildred something—Crabbe was keeping the existence of the redoubt secret from the majority of his own people. He had some obviously high hopes for what he would find, and how it would increase his power. So much so that he felt the need to keep it a close secret. So much that hardly anyone knew that they were here. So much so, perhaps, that hardly anyone knew that the baron himself was here.

It was this knowledge that she carried back, along with the medicines, to the dorms. Once there, she set about treating Doc, biding her time before sharing her thoughts with the others. As she tended to the bump on
the old man’s head, which had now swollen and reddened showing the extent of the bruising from the repeated blows on the floor of the wag, she kept an eye on the two sec men. They watched her closely, as if expecting her to practice some deception.

“I’m only tending to his head, boys. Nothing to see here,” she said with a heavy irony. “Why don’t you just leave us to get some rest? Your boss has pulled the rest of you out of here, and there’s no way we can escape, right?”

The sec men exchanged looks. The woman had an undeniable point. McCready had stationed men outside the dorm, and there was only the one entrance and exit. They looked uncomfortably at each other and then withdrew.

Mildred sighed with relief. Sure, there was no way out. But who knew what the companions would discuss if left alone? Good at following orders, but not too bright could be said of both the sec men and their leader, she guessed.

Having tended to Doc, Mildred was glad to strip off and get in the shower, feeling the needle-sharp points of hot water beat at her skin, massaging away the tiredness and tension. Her wrists and ankles smarted as the water hit them, but soon the water became soothing. She could feel the waves of torpor roll over her, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep. But as important as rest might be, she couldn’t allow herself to succumb until she had discussed what had happened in the medical facilities.

Doc followed her into the showers, his head now clearing. He was, to be sure, a trifle uncertain of what
had happened to him over the previous twelve hours, knowing only for sure that his head hurt like hell. But while Mildred had been showering, Krysty had filled him in. Doc firmly believed that he had been concussed. He knew what his crazy moments were like, albeit fewer of late, and they didn’t fit with what he had experienced or felt. There were parts of the past twelve hours that were clear, and others that were hazy, as though he had been struggling to move and breathe through cotton wool. He could only hope that he would be of more use in the hours to come.

The time it took him to shower allowed Mildred to gather her thoughts and listen to the others. Left alone, they had reached a consensus that now was not the time to act, but that it would be necessary to keep triple red for the slightest opportunity. None was under the illusion that Crabbe wished to use their knowledge—as he saw it—and then keep them around. He currently had the whip hand. It was up to them to see that it changed.

When Doc emerged, Mildred told them about what had happened in the medical room. It was a small enough thing in itself, but the import of it wasn’t lost on the rest of the group.

“If, perchance, we can engineer an opening in which we can reverse the positions between ourselves and the baron and his men, then an escape from here would be relatively simple. After all, who is there to follow us should we disable the forces he has down here?” Doc grinned. “And then perhaps we should pay that conniving knave Valiant a brief visit, to pay him the remainder of his blood jack in kind.”

“Easy, Doc,” J.B. said. “One thing at a time. Be
sides, if Crabbe disappears, who are his people going to blame?”

“Agreed,” Ryan added. “We look out for ourselves first and settle scores second. A long way settled.”

Doc pondered that. “A fair point, uh, Brian. But a man can dream. Besides which, I think I would prefer to be Brian, rather than Jock. Or even Snowy,” he added with a grin directed at Jak.

“Thing is, we should forget this for now, if we can,” Mildred said. “Keep alert for the slightest break when we’re out there, sure. But right now, rest is what we need. We’re not going to be any good to each other unless we get some of that right now.”

They retired to the beds, having dimmed the light to an acceptable level. Jak and Doc slept alone, while Krysty and Ryan, and Mildred and J.B., took the opportunity to share, and silently move closer to each other. Words weren’t necessary, and although each of them was far too weary to consider a more intimate embrace, it was nonetheless sweet for each to feel the other close.

Sleep came swiftly to the companions, but not so swiftly that something of importance occurred to Ryan, and would have kept him awake if not for the pull of inertia from his lead-heavy limbs.

Crabbe believed that they knew the secret of using the mat-trans to journey from place to place. In this, as in all things, he was only partly correct. They knew that to close the door would trigger a jump. But to where? The comps that controlled the mat-trans were subject to codes that were long-since lost. Destinations were decided by figures that were long forgotten.

In this instance, apparently, moving to a destination
would be determined by the figures on the paper that Crabbe held so dear. That was simple enough. Trouble was, each destination code would be known only to the person, inputting the data, not those making the jump. It was always forward, never back. Without the code, the only way you could return was if you hit the Last Destination button inside the mat-trans.

And the last destination was only stored in memory for half an hour before the automatic default settings were restored. After that, you were at the mercy of wherever the mat-trans comp decided to send you.

That meant one thing. Whatever situation you were pitched into at the destination for each of Crabbe’s codes, you had just thirty minutes to recce and deal with it. If you did this, you could come back.

But if it took longer, then you were lost.

“G
ET YOUR ASSES
out of bed now,” McCready roared as he turned the lights up full. “Baron Crabbe wants you.”

“Asshole,” Ryan muttered under his breath, disentangling himself from Krysty’s embrace and rolling out of bed. “So he’s ready to begin, is he?” he asked in a louder voice.

McCready grinned, a mirthless death’s head. “What do you think, bright boy? One eye, and half a fucking brain, eh?”

Laughing to himself, McCready strode out of the room, leaving two sec men to stand in the doorway, blasters ready, while the companions dressed hurriedly.

“I wonder if we will be forced to go into battle with no weapons to light our path,” Doc mused. “It is bad
enough that we are already facing the unknown. To be at the mercy of it is untenable.”

“I don’t know what you mean, but I’m figuring he’s going to have to give us our blasters if he wants us to fight for him,” J.B. said quietly. “Otherwise we don’t have the chances of a stickie in a shit swamp.”

“That is rather what I said.” Doc grinned. “Although your words are a little more colorful. The question is, how will he handle the distribution of weapons? To just give them back would be—”

“Nice, but real stupe,” Krysty interjected. “My jack’s on him just handing back to those he’s sending on a jump.”

“Makes sense to me,” Ryan agreed, “in which case we should watch how they do it. Any chinks…”

“Are to be mercilessly exploited,” Mildred finished. “Now I guess we should get going. Huey and Duey over there look like spare parts, and they’ll get pissed about that soon enough.”

“One more thing,” Ryan added, remembering the thought that had kept him awake for part of the previous night. “Don’t forget that wherever you land, you only have half an hour before the mat-trans won’t send you back.”

“Better check those chrons,” J.B. stated.

They had been talking in low tones, with the sec men just far enough away to be out of earshot. But now they finished preparing themselves, taking a few seconds to check that their individual chrons were still in working order, then moving to the doorway, the sec men parting to allow them through and keep them covered. As they reached the corridor, Doc laughed quietly to himself.

“What?” Jak asked with a puzzled glance.

“Huey and Duey… Very good.” The old man chuckled, shaking his head.

Jak just looked at him blankly.

They walked in silence to the mat-trans unit, the two sec men falling in at their rear, the remaining men lining the route at junction points.

“Don’t know where they think we’d go,” J.B. said.

“They know that we’re more familiar with these places than they are,” Mildred whispered. “Fact is, they think we know all there is to know about them. They’re terrified—or Crabbe is—that we’d be able to hide, or mount an attack.”

“Nice, Millie,” the Armorer replied. “That’s worth bearing in mind.”

McCready was waiting for them at the entrance to the control room. He said nothing as they passed him, but the malevolence coming from the man was almost palpable.

Inside, Crabbe and Sal were waiting for them, looking as though they had hardly moved since the day before. The baron beckoned them.

“Let’s not waste time. You know the offer. You get me what I want, you live. You don’t, you buy the farm. So what do you say?”

Ryan looked over his shoulder. Apart from the sec chief at the door, they were alone with the baron and his companion.

“What’s to stop me from grabbing you by the neck and just stepping into the mat-trans unit right now?”

Crabbe grinned. “You really think I’d be that stupe? What do you think Sal is doing here?”

Mildred eyed the stooping, balding man who had so far remained silent. “You know, I’ve been wondering that myself,” she said gently.

“See, Brian, you should pay more attention to Millicent. Not what I was saying yesterday, I’ll grant you. But then she was just mouthing off. There’s a lot of intelligence there, and you should just get her to focus it.”

“How about you focus on answering the question,” Mildred said flatly.

Crabbe grinned, a full, shit-eating grin the like of which Mildred hadn’t seen since the days before the nukecaust. It was the grin of a man who held all the winning cards, and was enjoying the feeling.

“See, Sal here don’t know much about reading and writing. So I ain’t got him here for that. But I ain’t never seen anyone with such a gift for engines, wags and tech. I got a shitload of old vids that I can watch because of Sal’s gift. He can take any heap of junk and fix it. Anything that’s already working, he can figure out how it does it. I really like those vids, by the way—” he leered in Krysty’s direction “—’cause they got a lot of girls who look just like you. And they do anything, sweets.”