Outlanders 11 armageddon.., p.20
Outlanders 11 Armageddon Axis, page 20
They passed long trestle tables laden with electronic parts, obviously the guts of a number of computers.
"I saw you had encrypted a computer file," Lakesh announced. "Why?"
"The implementation of their plan depends on access to certain data," replied Sindri, "encoded commands, that sort of thing. I blocked their access to it. Granted, given enough time, the encryption keys can be broken and overridden. It was simply a delaying action."
Sindri marched toward the circular rim of a hatch cover rising from the floor. Nearby lay a metal screen of thick mesh. They saw metal rungs affixed to the shaft wall. A faint breeze wafted up, bringing with it the reek of spoiled meat.
Sindri climbed into the shaft. "Follow me."
They followed him down, the transadapts bringing up the rear. As he climbed, Sindri continued to speak, his voice echoing hollowly. "The only thing I can figure out, based on some disconnected comments made by Francis, is that some years in the past, this installation's cryogenic systems malfunctioned. They still work to some extent, but no longer with sufficient output to prevent the deterioration of their organic tissues."
The ladder descended some fifty feet, down into the elbow of an L-shaped tube. The shaft was made of a dull, non-reflective metal, featureless except for ridges where the sections of pipe were joined. It was narrow and stretched almost as far as the eye could see. Far in the distance glimmered a faint circle of light, shining like a coin seen face-on. The sickening odor became even more pronounced.
"It wasn't like this the last time I was here," Lakesh murmured to Brigid. "Whatever catastrophic failure this facility suffered, it was in the last twenty- five years or so."
Sindri led the way down the pipe, saying, "This used to be an air-circulation shaft, probably pumping chilled air throughout the installation."
They walked steadily for several minutes, the coin of light growing in size. Finally, the six people emerged from the shaft into an immense tri-leveled chamber that held banks of rusting carcasses of ancient comps. Six chrome-capped glass tubes, each one ten feet long and three feet in diameter, were positioned at equidistant points on the uppermost level of the chamber. Some of the tubes held a green liquid, while others bore cracks and were empty Flexible metal conduits extended from the metal caps on top and bottom. The conduits snaked down, disappearing into sleeve sockets on the deck.
Kane leaned carefully over a handrail. Barely visible at least a hundred feet below, he saw a dark metal framework surrounding six gargantuan fan units. Only one of the fans moved, sluggishly revolving with a steady squeak. The ever-present grinding sound of machinery was much louder here. A chill, oil-scented breeze ruffled his hair
"What is this place?" he asked.
"One of the main pumping stations," Lakesh answered in a muted tone. He gestured to the tall glass tubes. "Those were containers of coolant, circulated down into a conversion chamber."
Sindri strode purposefully toward one of twelve open shafts. "Let's keep moving."
All of them entered the lateral shaft. After twenty yards or so, it terminated in another elbow joint, this one crooking down. Without hesitation, Sindri swung his body over the lip of the opening. The others followed him, descending hand over hand.
The shaft ended at a passageway that stretched off to their left. This tube was much wider, and they were able to walk two abreast, passing several other openings from which blew cool, stinking air.
The tube ended at an opening, and they looked down on a miniature city, a scale model of Washington, D.C. None of the buildings looked big enough to house even the smallest transadapt, though.
In the city's center towered a pointed obelisk of stained stone, stretching upward at least twenty feet. Kane noticed that its white facade bore deep cracks that had been thickly mortared.
Confused and uneasy, he gazed out at the buildings, the streets and the parks. "What the hell was the point of building this thing? It must have taken them years."
Lakesh shook his head sadly. "A form of denial, perhaps. Building a Washington as it had been, even in miniature, reminded them of their world in the corridors of government, of the power they once wielded over the country."
"And besides," commented Sindri with a sour grin, "they had a lot of time on their hands."
With that, he jumped out of the shaft, landing on the roof of the Lincoln Memorial. He shimmied down a Doric column and gestured impatiently for the others to join him.
All of them leaped to the roof and clambered down to the floor, the transadapts as nimble as monkeys. When it was Lakesh's turn, he lost his footing and nearly toppled to the floor, but one of the transadapts used his foot to snatch him by the collar of his coat, and lower him into the waiting arms of Kane and Brigid.
Sindri strode down Pennsylvania Avenue. Kane noticed that a number of the small buildings bore old bullet pocks in their facades, some of them patched, most of them not.
"Hell of a firefight here at one time," he muttered to no one in particular.
They walked without speaking. Suffused sea-green light filtered down from above, giving them the impression they walked on the bottom of an ocean. What they could make out of the roof seemed to be all pitted and corroded girders and cross beams. Sindri's gait acquired something of a swagger, as if he enjoyed feeling like a giant for one of the few times in his life.
Brigid made motion-detector sweeps, but nothing registered. "Clear."
"That doesn't mean very much," Kane responded quietly. "Blastermen could be hiding behind any of these buildings."
His pointman's sixth sense rang a sudden, insistent alarm, and he came to a halt, latching on to the arms of Lakesh and Brigid. "Sindri," he said urgently.
The little man looked at him over his shoulder but continued walking. "We're almost there."
"Almost where?" Kane demanded. "Where are you taking us?"
The crack of a rifle split the air, cutting off whatever reply Sindri might have made. The round sang past Kane's head, buzzing in his ear like a giant wasp. It struck the cornice of a building to his right and ricocheted away.
"Down!" he shouted, hauling Lakesh and Brigid to the cover provided by an office building. Sindri and his transadapts scrambled out of the street, hunkering down behind structures.
A thundering full-auto salvo stitched holes in the miniature buildings opposite their position, showering Pennsylvania Avenue with rock chips and fragments. One of the transadapts uttered a high-pitched cry of pain and shock, clapping a hand to his hip and staggering.
Sindri stared at the wounded man in disbelief, shouting in outrage, "They got Kenny! You bastards—!"
Brigid took hasty aim with her Iver Johnson at a point behind Kane and squeezed off two door- slamming rounds.
Kane twisted, peered around a corner and glimpsed two business-suited figures brandishing AK-47s duck- walking between buildings. He triggered his Sin Eater in their direction, dousing the walls with a 9 mm barrage that sent them scuttling back. Another volley of autofire blazed from the direction from which they had come, steel-jacketed slugs snapping over their heads like whips. Weapons stuttered from both sides, short pencils of blasterfire lighting up the gloom of the alleys.
He looked toward Sindri, who met his gaze with wild eyes. "We can't stay here," he half shouted to the little man. "These sons of bitches can cut off our retreat any time they want."
Sindri nodded. "Follow me! Stay close and low!" he directed.
Brigid hesitated, but Kane told her tersely, "Get going. I'll cover you."
Sindri began a shambling run, paralleling Pennsylvania Avenue. Brigid, Lakesh and the two transadapts followed suit. The wounded dwarf hopped like a clubfooted frog. More shots sounded, chewing up the fake tarmac of the miniature street.
Kane hung back, crouching as he tried to place the positions of the gunners. He glimpsed three figures fanning out two streets over, and dashed to intercept them. He unhooked the incendiary gren from his combat harness, primed it and lobbed it in a looping arc toward the blastermen's position.
Propelling himself into a dive, he hugged the floor as the sharp detonation of the gren banged behind him. He twisted onto his back in time to see two of the men nearest the bloom of the explosion pitch forward amid a scattering of stone, tossed by the force of the blast. Their clothes fluttered wildly with a wreath of blue fire.
Sindri yelled something, but Kane couldn't understand him, due to the rolling echoes of the detonation. The third blasterman lurched drunkenly toward Kane, fumbling to bring his autorifle to bear.
Kane triggered a long burst from the Sin Eater, red- hot Parabellums pulping the rifleman's chest, a greenish-red muck belching out of his back. He slammed into the wing of a building and fell from sight.
Rising to his feet, Kane returned to Pennsylvania Avenue, sprinting as fast as he could after his party. Four men moved from either side of the street to cut him off, two to a side, crouching in tight defensive postures. Their AKs began to stutter, and Kane stumbled from a triple-hammer blow against his lower torso. The rounds didn't penetrate the tough Kevlar weave of his coat, but the impacts nearly knocked him off his feet.
Fighting against the impulse to double over, blinking back the pain haze from his eyes, Kane depressed the Sin Eater's trigger, dousing the four men with a prolonged figure-eight pattern, toppling all four of them under a blazing barrage. One of them spun like a top, a pinkish ichor spurting from a hole in his head.
Kane began running again, gasping in pain and exertion, fumbling for another clip attached to the harness beneath his coat. He heard Brigid shout his name and he swerved in the direction of her voice.
The stink of corrupted flesh suddenly filled his nostrils, and he wheeled around just as a business-suited man lunged from an alley, leading with his AK. Kane swept his unloaded Sin Eater against the autorifle's barrel, jarring it from the man's grip and sending it clattering to the floor.
The man didn't back off. He reached for Kane with talon-like fingers from which dangled shreds of soft, slippery matter. Kane could smell the putrefaction literally oozing out of his pores. The man's face was little more than a blotch of peeling, diseased tissue.
Kane drove his left fist into the man's solar plexus, and as the man doubled over he shot his right hand upward, the barrel of the Sin Eater connecting with the man's chin on the way up. The front blade sight ripped a scrap of flesh away, exposing the metal implant beneath. His head flew back until his stub of a nose pointed at the ceiling, exposing his neck.
Kane drove the extended fingers of his left hand into the man's Adam's apple and felt his windpipe collapse like a hollow reed. Clawing at his throat, the man fell onto his back with a sound like a wet sack of cement dropped from a great height. The man gagged as he writhed and kicked. Kane backed away from him, then turned and began sprinting again.
The miniature city ended abruptly, the demarcation point as precise and as sudden as a knife cut. Kane saw Sindri, Lakesh, Brigid and the pair of transadapts with their backs against two very tall double doors, bound with thick braces of verdegris-discolored brass.
Emblazoned in the center of the right-hand door was a bordered disk-shaped insignia. Within the circular border, depicted in black-and-gold paint, was the representation of a bald eagle with its wings outstretched. Kane recognized the image as the great seal of the United States. A faded empty circle of the same size, with nail holes around the rim, showed where an identical seal had once been affixed on the left door.
Sindri fumbled with the doorknob, shouting, "We'll be safe in here! It's defensible and it's where I was bringing you."
Brigid gazed keenly at the city as Kane joined them, then she raised her blaster in a double-handed grip and fired off three rounds in quick succession. Kane couldn't see whom or what she shot at.
"I want them to keep their distance," she said grimly-
Kane detached the ammo clip from his harness, but before he could eject the spent one from his Sin Eater, Sindri shouldered open the door. It swung noisily on rusted hinges. All of them pelted over the dim thresh-hold, the two transadapts pushing the door into place and putting their backs against it.
Kane, Lakesh and Brigid silently surveyed the gloomy interior of the big, high-ceilinged room. It was at least twenty yards long, lined on three sides with bookshelves that reached to the ceiling. Upholstered armchairs were scattered about. In a far corner, a huge globe of the Earth lay in pieces on the floor. The carpet beneath their feet was a medium shade of blue, and a replica of the seal emblazoned on the door was embroidered into it with thick gold thread.
"This used to be General Kettridge's private office," Lakesh whispered.
The atmosphere of the room held a blended variety of cloying smells, from charred wood, to dusty velvet, to rotting meat, to rancid butter and burned sulfur.
An immense circular desk dominated the fourth wall. The surface seemed bare except for a patina of damp dust. A tall, high-backed chair rose from behind it, the seat turned away from them.
Purposefully, Sindri strode across the office toward the massive desk. "I found the blueprint for the plot behind the desk. I'll fetch it."
Kneading his sore midsection where the bullets had struck, Kane peered through the murk, seeing nothing but the chair. "Where?"
As if his query were a stage cue, the chair swiveled swiftly around. He glimpsed only the shadowy outline of the figure seated in it, but he leveled his Sin Eater just the same.
At the same instant, he heard Brigid and Lakesh cry out in pain. He started to whirl, but then a sun of pain went nova behind his eyes, accompanied by a sizzle. He felt his muscles convulse and cramp as agony streaked down the back of his head into his hips. Ile was dimly aware of his finger spasming on the trigger stud of his blaster, but the firing pin struck an empty chamber.
As he slid wetly into the long night, his last conscious thought was that his pointman's instincts had been right all along. He felt no satisfaction. After the first blaze of pain, he felt nothing at all.
Chapter 22
There was not enough light for Lakesh to make out the face that leaned over and looked down into his own. It seemed to swim and pulsate in cadence with his heartbeat. Someone spoke, and at first he thought it was his mother.
"Mohandas..."
It was not his mother's voice, but he didn't recognize it. The voice held a strange, strained quality as if the larnyx that produced it was unaccustomed to making any coherent sound.
"Mohandas," said the hoarse, feminine whisper. "Mohandas Lakesh Singh. Look at me."
Lakesh tried, but he could see nothing but the shifting of shadows.
"Mohandas. See me."
He felt a light touch on his cheek and he recoiled from the chill-fingered caress. Then slowly, at the end of an unimaginably long, black-walled tunnel, a shape acquired form and substance. It rushed toward him or he lunged toward it—he wasn't sure. The darkness fell away and Dian was there, standing over him. He realized he was very cold and he shivered violently, the memory of an arcing thread-thin electrical current drifting to his consciousness.
"Shockstick?" he murmured.
"Yes. It was regrettable but necessary."
Dian's voice was as throaty as he remembered, but it creaked and the words sifted, like the rustle of ashes against violin strings. Her face floated into focus. Lakesh steeled himself, determined not to avert his eyes. The left side of her face was as hauntingly beautiful as always, without a line of age or stress marring it, but still there was something horrible in the beauty, juxtaposed as it was with travesty and ruin.
The left side of her face was more than a cruel parody of loveliness; it was an obscenity, scarred and encrusted tissue studded here and there with steel surgical staples. The gaps between the staples in her flesh leaked a pinkish fluid that was not blood. Lakesh stared at her steadily, ignoring the wave of nausea in his throat. If both sides of her face had been the same, either distorted or lovely, he could have accepted it.
"So you made it back," she said in a low voice. "How you've changed."
Lakesh made no reply, trying to meet her gaze. Her left eye looked like a milky marble with dull blue highlights. Its dead quality only made the bright glint of her right eye seem more ghastly.
He stirred and realized he could scarcely move. His body was strapped to a narrow platform, canvas restraints pinning his arms, chest and legs. Slowly he lifted his head and saw medical equipment and examination tables around him. He recognized the place as the laboratory where Dian had once labored.
"Where are Brigid and Kane?" he croaked. His tongue felt clumsy and thick, his throat parched.
"They live," whispered Dian. "They've been removed so you and I can speak privately."
"A trap," he managed to husk out. "Nothing but a trap."
"Not for you, Mohandas. Never for you." Her tone acquired a silken, almost seductive note with an edge of genuine happiness.
Lakesh squinted, realizing his vision was blurred due to the absence of his glasses. Still he saw she wore a bizarre ensemble of a tailored business suit with a short, pleated skirt, high heels and charcoal stockings that bore splits and runs. He looked her up and down, a carefully calculated neutral expression on his face. "You've changed, too, Dian."
She shifted position restlessly, turning the disfigured side of her face away from him. "You always told me how beautiful I was. The most beautiful woman in the world, you said. Why don't you tell me that now?"
"You're the most beautiful woman in the world," he rasped, despising the quaver in his voice.
Dian turned around, displaying her left profile. In an intense tone, she said, "If only you could've awakened when you were supposed to, in twenty years. I waited three times that for you to tell me I was beautiful again. I waited for you so long my heart aches to think of it."
Her voice caught in her throat. She uttered a strangulated sob, then burst into a screeching, raging invective that was almost incomprehensible. It was not what she said that made Lakesh's heart jerk, because he only understood one word out of ten, but her unrestrained fury, bordering on complete madness.
