“Just give my coin back already,” Riker said.
“I don’t have it. I’m not a liar, and I’m not a thief. If you’re going to keep calling me a liar and thief—”
“All right, all right,” Riker said, wanting to calm the huge brute down. The man didn’t look or seem bright and had been working himself up like a dog. “I’m sorry, okay. You’re not a liar and thief. I shouldn’t have said that.”
The huge brute was breathing heavily, his massive hands opening and closing in anger. His breathing slowed down and no longer sounded like a bull getting ready to charge. He finally let his hands hang at his side.
“Do you mean what you said?” the brute asked.
“Yes,” Riker said. “I got carried away. And I realize that losing the coin was my own stupid fault.”
“You’re calling yourself stupid?”
“For losing the coin,” Riker said.
The brute nodded, nodding more. “Okay. That’s okay. I’m certainly not stupid. I sneaked up on you, bonked you on the head and carried you away myself. No one saw what I did.”
“Did someone tell you to do that?” Riker asked.
“No! It was my idea. Mine!”
“Sure,” Riker said, flinching at the man’s loudness, feeling nauseated again. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“That’s better. It was my idea; mine alone. You see, the Queen said I wasn’t champion material. That insulted me, and I knew in my heart that she was wrong, dead wrong. I decided to show her, show everyone. That was why I slipped away without any of the others noticing and went and caught you in the trap tunnel. I did it myself, and I did it right. Don’t you think that means I’m champion material?”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a freaking champion.” Riker thought about sitting up. The more he thought about it, though, the more nauseous he felt, and that made him grumpy. “I don’t understand any of this and why it’s happening to me.”
“That is very odd, very strange,” the brute said. “I thought an old weakling like you would have to be smart. Aren’t you smart? If you’re not smart, you are no use to me.”
“Wait a minute, huh?” Riker said, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes because he felt like vomiting.
“No. Wake up. Wake up. Open your eyes.” The brute began shaking him.
Riker opened his eyes even as he grew pale again, almost gagging.
“I’ve had enough of your bullshit,” the brute said. “Either you can help me, or I’ll punch you until your bones crunch and you scream for mercy. I won’t give you any, though. Mercy is for weaklings and sissies.”
“Uh… can you help me sit up then?” Riker asked.
“No! Sit up on your own, old man. If you can’t—I’ll punch you until bones break and splinter, poking through your skin.”
Riker gritted his teeth, clenched his stomach muscles and slowly sat up as he turned his hips. His booted feet slid off the board and dropped to the floor. He frowned. He gagged and leaned over, vomiting thin gruel onto the floor.
The brute backed up and began laughing.
Wiping his mouth, Riker looked at his captor, getting a better picture of him, shuddering inwardly at what he saw. The man was bigger than he realized, maybe seven feet tall and weighing 300 pounds, easy, maybe 350. The head was too big and the eyes too close set. The eyes, black eyes, showed a vicious stupid brute. The giant had coarse facial features with stumps for teeth and spaces between each of them.
“What’s so funny?” Riker asked.
“You!” the brute shouted. “You puked! You puked because you’re old and weak.” The brute reached to the side, to the wall, picking up a short iron bar. “I’m going to crush your skull, old man, because I finally know you’re useless.”
“Wait,” Riker panted.
The brute squinted at him. “Are you trying to order me around?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“You lie! You weak old bastard, you’re a liar too. This was a mistake.”
“I’m smart, though,” Riker said quickly.
“What?”
“I’m old and weak, but I’m damn smart, the most cunning Intelligence man of the Star Watch service.”
The brute stared at Riker suspiciously, finally saying, “The Queen told us Maddox is the key to destroying Star Watch.”
Riker wanted to lie down and sleep, but he didn’t dare. His captor was vastly strong, stupid and—
What’s the best way to deal with him? Riker had an idea. “Can I ask you a question?”
The brute scowled. “I don’t like questions.”
“It’s an easy one.”
“Oh. Oh. Go ahead then. Ask your stupid question.”
“Thanks. Does your Queen always tell the truth?”
The brute’s eyes become wide. “No… How did you know that?”
As gently as possible, Riker tapped the side of his head. “I’m smart, really smart about stuff like that.”
“Yes, yes, I can tell. And I knew it. I knew the great Maddox wouldn’t keep a weak old man like you—that falls at the tiniest pop of a club—unless he was devil smart.”
“That’s me, all right,” Riker said. “I’m devil smart.”
“So how should we do this?” the brute asked.
Riker opened his mouth, almost asking the man what he meant. Instead, at the last second, the sergeant said, “Good question. That’s a very good question. I’m glad you asked it.”
The brute straightened proudly, grinning.
“First, I need to know your name.”
“That’s easy,” the brute said. “I’m Dagobert Dan.”
“Where are we, Dagobert?”
“I already said: in the hostel.”
“Right, right, you did. What level?”
Dagobert shook his head. “I hate too many questions. You’re asking too many. What should we do next? That’s all I want to know.”
“Well…we should grab the captain, right?”
Dagobert scowled. “The Queen’s men grabbed him, captured him. They put Maddox with the New Men.”
“Of course,” Riker said, trying to play this how Maddox might. “That’s what I thought they would do.”
Dagobert scratched his head. “You knew about the New Men?”
“Of course,” Riker said.
“You’re not lying about that?”
“Uh… What do you want most of all, Dagobert?”
“Huh?
“What do you want more than anything else in the universe?”
The brute stared at Riker before puffing out his massive chest. “I’m the strongest, the very strongest of our sept. The others say I’m dumb, a retard, that the injections worked but the side effects were too severe. The drugs warped my mind, they said. The others in our sept make me do the heavy work, the smelly work. I don’t like that. I want to crush my enemies and hear their women whine about it. That’s what Merovingians do best.”
“You’re a Merovingian?” Riker asked.
A thunderous scowl appeared. “Are you saying I’m not?” Dagobert shouted.
“No, no, not at all,” Riker said. “You’re a Merovingian, all right. There’s no doubt about that.”
Dagobert was panting, glowering at Riker, swinging the short steel bar back and forth.
“Now that I’ve met you,” Riker said, “I know that you might actually be the strongest of all the Merovingians.”
“I am the strongest.”
“Good,” Riker said, “Because this will only work if we use the strongest Merovingian.”
Dagobert peered at him. “You still think we should take Maddox from the holding cell?”
“Exactly,” Riker said. “Only the bravest, the strongest and most cunning of Merovingians could do that.”
Dagobert opened his mouth and laughed with delight. “That will show them, show them all. They call me a moron and idiot, but I could crush any of them if he dared face me man to man. That was why I followed Clovis to the dead tun
nels. I waited until after he donned his mask. Then, I crept into the dead tunnels, finding you standing there like an idiot. A tap on the head, and I captured the cunning weak old man. Now, with your help—what are were going to do again?”
“Capture Captain Maddox,” Riker said.
Dagobert frowned. “The Queen’s men already captured him.”
“I know that. But we’re going to show them that…that you’re better than them. Even though they have a heavy guard at the holding cell, you’re going to take Maddox and personally take him to the Queen.”
Dagobert pushed his lips out in a simian manner. “I don’t know if the last is a good idea. We’ll wait until they start screaming and running around, asking who got Maddox free. Then, and only then, will I take the captain to her and show her I’m the greatest of the sept.”
“There you go. I like your part of the plan…” Riker almost said “better.” But he reconsidered. Dagobert was a dullard, but there was something chillingly deadly about him, too. It would be best to handle the man with care. There was something else. What did Dagobert mean about injections? And who were these Merovingians, and who was the Queen?
Riker did not shake his head. He was woozy, still feeling nauseated. But he would do whatever he could to get out of this predicament and free the captain. That last hardly seemed possible.
“Dagobert.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to need a weapon to do this.”
Dagobert squinted at him. “How can I trust an old fart like you?”
“That’s a smart question, a really smart question. What would it take for you to trust me?”
Dagobert rubbed his jaw. “You’d have to make me a promise, a big promise.”
“I can do that.”
“You’re sure?”
“Totally,” Riker said. “I cross my heart and hope to die if I don’t do what I say.”
“I like that. Yes. I’ll get you a weapon. Then, we have to start. I don’t think the Queen is going to wait very long. They want to take the captain and New Men away so they can start experimenting on them.”
“Good thinking,” Riker said. “Get that weapon for me and then let’s go.”
-13-
Riker turned cold and then faint as the giant Dagobert returned to the hostel room. Their quarters had a restroom with a filthy toilet—full of green algae in the bowl—with an equally dirty sink. There was a tiny fridge in a kitchenette, mainly holding milk and beer. The hostel room was a sty, with a wooden board for a bed.
Dagobert had changed and now wore medieval-style armor with a Greek hoplite helmet complete with a Y-slot opening. There were antennae on top of the helmet. He carried a long white lance with a wicked steel head and with a firing button in the middle.
Riker felt faint because he’d heard about these lances. Maddox had faced such warriors in Antarctica while trying to rescue his grandmother. The lance fired missiles or gouts of energy; he couldn’t remember which. The point of his misgivings was that Star Watch had faced such people before. Maddox had talked once or twice about the time he faced them, wondering if they had belonged to Lisa Meyers.
“Oh no,” Riker said.
“What’s wrong now?” Dagobert said. “I put on every piece of equipment I could find. What’s wrong with that?”
Riker licked his lips. “Uh, nothing’s wrong, Dagobert. You look…imposing.”
“What’s that word mean? Are you calling me stupid?”
“No,” Riker said quickly. “Imposing means tough, mean or dangerous.”
Dagobert’s teeth flashed from within the helmet as he smiled.
“The Queen,” Riker said. “I was wondering if she has a name.”
“That’s stupid,” Dagobert said. “Of course she does: it’s Queen.”
“Right you are,” Riker said with a deprecating chuckle. “Does anyone ever call her Lisa Meyers?”
“I don’t remember. Is it important?”
“Not for what we’re going to do,” Riker said with enforced cheer. “Hey. Where’s my weapon?”
Dagobert lifted the lance. “This is mine. You can’t have it.”
“Okay. You keep the lance.”
“I don’t have another lance for you. But you can use this dinky thing.” Dagobert drew a heavy revolver from his belt, tossing it to Riker.
The sergeant caught it, opening the cylinder and checking the load. They were ordinary .44 Magnum bullets. He shoved the cylinder closed, wondering if he should just aim and fire until Dagobert was dead. How would he find the captain then? He’d also have to break his promise, and he didn’t want to do that.
“Do you have any extra rounds?” Riker asked.
“I thought you’d ask that. Here, take these.”
Riker cupped his hands, accepting twenty more rounds Dagobert spilled to him. Riker stuffed the extras into his pockets. Then, sliding the big gun into his waistband, the sergeant surged up to his feet. He swayed, and his eyesight blurred as dizziness threatened to make him vomit again and possibly to collapse. He held it together, though, even as he felt weakness flowing through him.
“Are you sure you can do this?” Dagobert asked. “You look awful pale.”
“I’m one hundred percent sure,” Riker said slowly and deliberately.
“So, ah, I’ve been thinking. Are you saying we just charge up and start killing the holding-cell guards?”
“Maybe. How far is the holding cell from here?”
“Two klicks.”
Riker winced inwardly. That would tax him, but what else could he do? “Will anyone think it strange that you’re wearing that armor suit?”
“The others wear their fighting suits all the time,” Dagobert said in a whiny voice.
“There you go then. It will be all right. Do you have a place to hold the prisoners once we free them?”
“We’re not freeing them. You said we’re capturing them. Was that a lie?”
“No, no lie. You’re right about capturing them. I was just testing you.”
“Oh… Okay. The others do that sometimes. I guess I won’t kill you for it.”
Riker took a moment to swallow uneasily, wondering once again if killing Dagobert wouldn’t be the smartest move. “Uh…where do we take our captives?”
“I was thinking about bringing them here,” Dagobert said evasively. “Do you think that’s stupid?”
“On the contrary, I think it’s brilliant.”
“Truly, Riker? You truly think that?”
“Would I lie to you?” Riker asked, hedging.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I wouldn’t. You’re too strong. I remember that bonk on the head you gave me. I’m afraid of you.”
“That makes sense. People fear the Merovingians. The others say that all the time.”
“I do wonder about one small detail, though.”
“Tell me.”
“When are the fewest guards at the holding cell?”
“Don’t we want to do this when there are the most? That way, we show how much better we are.”
“Usually you’d be right,” Riker said, “but not this one time. The first time we do this, we have to win. If you do this again, though, that’s when you show the others how weak they are compared to you by taking them all on.”
“That makes sense. You’re so smart, Riker.”
“Thanks, Dagobert. I appreciate you saying that. Are you ready?”
“I am. I am. I’ve been waiting my whole life for this. Finally, I’m going to be the hero.” Dagobert turned toward the exit.
Riker started for it, as well, hoping he could last two kilometers and that his concussion wouldn’t betray him as being too old and weak like this monster-man had suggested.
They walked out of the bedroom and down a carpeted hall to exit the hostel, which was like a mouse hole in that the hostel was built into a tunnel wall. The tunnel was bigger and better lit than the one Riker had traversed with Maddox. The sides were rock, eight
to nine meters high with bright lamps on the ceiling. The walls had occasional entrances, with machine-gun toting guards standing outside, usually two and sometimes three. The guards wore visors or sunglasses, and never gave Dagobert a glance of surprise for his attire. Instead, they looked away or down at the rock floor, as if they knew that to challenge the man meant agony or death.
“How long have you Merovingians been on Tortuga?” Riker asked.
“Three weeks.”
“Was the Queen here all that time?”
“I think so.”
Riker wanted to ask more. Instead, he concentrated on walking, on keeping his lunch down. A pain had begun at the back of his head. He was sure it was going to get worse. Could he hold it together long enough?
The tunnel expanded into a larger cavern, and the number of people grew. This must have been a market area. There were stalls, some chickens and goats, roasting meat, beer and sizzling eggs for sale. Farther down were electric fences. Behind them were naked men and women, dejected and sorry-looking specimens.
Dagobert pointed his lance at one electric fence. “I came from there.”
“From right there?” asked an astonished Riker.
“A different planet,” Dagobert said somberly. “I used to work at a bank, as a president, I think. I can no longer remember exactly.”
They walked a hundred more meters, leaving the captured people behind the electric fence.
“I was very rich,” Dagobert said suddenly. “I had a different name, too.”
Riker could hardly believe that. Then it struck him. “You weren’t as big then?”
“No. I was puny compared to now. That was before the Queen’s scientists injected me with…with…it’s hard to remember.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me,” Dagobert said stubbornly. “I want to remember. I used to have a very good memory. Let me think.”
Riker did because his head had started hurting again. That put a pain in the middle of his chest, which made it harder to breathe.
“You okay, old man?”
“I’ll make it,” Riker muttered.
“I’m counting on you.”
The Lost Tech Page 7