Inside, compared to the charnel-house calm which had descended on the forward command car, the situation in the rest of the train could be compared to a vicious chaotic race-riot fought in the sewers of a space-age city.
The air was filled with the noise of battle: angry screams, shouts, yelping and whooping war-cries, splintering crashes, thuds, thumps, the thunder of running feet and the muffled whump of fragmentation grenades. And there was blood everywhere. The corridors were littered with dead bodies of Blazers and Mutes – which live warriors, bright-eyed with blood-lust, used as stepping-stones in their race to get to wherever the fighting was fiercest.
Few could be persuaded to stop. Those that did only had time to shout ‘No’ to the question ‘Had they seen the Old One?’ and were off again before Steve could ask if they had seen a female sand-burrower with a slab of pink scar tissue down the left-hand side of her face. He asked one of his escort to go back down the ramp and see if either were to be found under the aft-section of the train.
Within seconds of the warrior’s departure, Blue-Thunder, the M’Calls’ paramount warrior, came into view from the direction of the flight cars, toting a Tracker carbine with a blood-streaked bayonet attached. He was sweating and smeared with blood.
‘We cannot find Clearwater, our clan sister!’
‘I know,’ said Steve. ‘But never mind. Cadillac will explain that later. Have you seen Mr Snow?!’
Blue-Thunder shook his head. ‘I thought he was with you!’
‘No. He’s disappeared!’ Pulling Blue-Thunder with him, Steve stepped back against the brass slide pole in the centre of the stairwell to allow a large group of warriors to pass along the corridor. Many of them carried severed heads on bayoneted rifles.
A drop of blood trickled down the back of Steve’s raised hand. Looking up, he saw a helmeted body slumped forward against the stair rail leading to the second floor, with one arm hanging down parallel to the brass pole. The blood had drained out of a neck wound, along the angled shoulder and down the limp arm.
Steve recognized the powerful hand and thick fingers before catching sight of the broad red diagonal rank stripe outlined in black. The arm belonged to Buck McDonnell. He’d glimpsed Big D heading aft just after he’d run into Jodi. Had they both died in sight of each other?
Motioning Blue-Thunder to wait, Steve clambered over the dead Mutes lying on the stairs and reached the Trail Boss. The barbed point of the crossbow bolt sticking through the crown of his helmet said it all. More dead Mutes lay in the passageway above. Higher still, on the top floor, there was a firefight in progress.
Steve signalled his escort to cover the stairs and the pass-way to the next wagon then stepped over McDonnell and up into the corridor.
Several doors to the side compartments hung open, some with bodies lying across the sill. There was debris scattered everywhere. The door to the first compartment on his left was closed. He moved past it without thinking then remembered his interrupted conversation with Blue-Thunder. As he turned back to see if the warrior had followed him up the stairs, his eyes were drawn to the sliver of red plastic sticking out of the lock of the closed door.
He withdrew the card. It was a high-security key-card. The kind that a Trail Boss and other senior non-coms like Battalion Master Sergeants would carry. And it had been inserted in the lock of a punishment cell. Steve tested the door with the tips of his fingers. It was shut fast. The cardholder had either had no time to open it, or had forgotten to withdraw his card after locking it. Which meant there could be someone inside.
Steve silenced Blue-Thunder and his warrior escort with a warning finger then put the key-card back into the slot and pressed a button on the COMMS-LOCK panel set at shoulder height in the door surround.
A miniature black and white tv screen flickered into life. Linked to a fish-eye camera in the roof of the cell, it revealed Mr Snow sprawled unconscious on the bunk with his head towards the door. Jodi Kazan was down on one knee in the far corner with a rifle, ready to fire at whoever came in.
Steve invited Blue-Thunder to view the scene but it only left the Mute totally perplexed. Like his companions, he had never seen a video-screen image before and since this one was a top view of a small room distorted through a wide-angle lens he didn’t know what to make of it
‘The Old One is in there,’ whispered Steve. ‘Can you not see him – lying on the bed?’
Blue-Thunder studied the image again and gave a perplexed frown. ‘But… he is no bigger than a beetle!’ The mute tapped the tiny screen. ‘Has he been trapped in this stone by dark magic?’
‘Forget it. Just leave this to me.’ Steve pushed him aside and put his mouth to the speaker grille. ‘Jodi…?’
Having journeyed back to the Federation in a similar cell on the same train the previous winter, Jodi knew the setup. Keeping the rifle aimed towards Mr Snow and the door, she straightened up and addressed the camera lens behind the small clear panel in the ceiling. ‘That you Brickman?’
‘Yeah, now listen – we need to talk.’
‘So talk.’
‘No. Face to face. I need to explain things. But first I want you to understand you’re not in any danger. Just slide that rifle under the bunk and clasp your fingers together on the back of your neck. I promise you won’t come to any harm. You have my word on that.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Jodi took a firmer hold on the rifle and placed the barrel against Mr Snow’s midriff. ‘Your word ain’t worth shit, Brickman. I saw who you came in with – Cadillac. The scumbag that killed Dave and blew half The Lady apart. And if it hadn’t been for Buck McDonnell, I’d have gone sky-high with the rest!
‘An’ you know what? I got the blame! I was the one who got thrown in the slammer and –’ She gave a harsh laugh, ‘– here’s the biggest joke of all. I stood up for you, swore you had nothin’ to do with it! And all the while you were tucked up tight with these lump-shits! Now I know why they hit me with a Code One!’
‘So what are you doing here?’
‘They gave me a chance to redeem myself by fingering your Mute friends. When I came on board I was supposed to be kept under close arrest but Buck McDonnell persuaded Hartmann to put me back on the team while I was on the train. For old time’s sake. Not flyin’, of course, but regular duties alongside the other Blazers. Nice gesture, huh? Didn’t know it was going to end in a shoot-out with you.’
Steve spoke with a new urgency. ‘It needn’t, Jodi. We can work something out.’
‘Yeah? Like what – the length of the pole you’re gonna stick my head on?’
‘No! You’ll be safe with me. Just put the rifle down and listen! I’m going back to the Federation. You can come with me if you want. We can cover for each other. I can help you beat the rap!’
Jodi answered with a mocking laugh. ‘Where you been living, Brickman – fantasy-land? You been smokin’ too much rainbow grass! D’ya know where I was before they put me on the train? Death Row! Being around you is bad news, honeybun!’
Steve tried a softer line. ‘This is getting us nowhere, Jodi. You can’t stay in there forever.’
‘I’m staying until Buck McDonnell steps through that door. If anyone else comes in this old lump gets blown away! And that goes for you too. Comprendo?!’
It didn’t seem like a good time to tell her that the Trail Boss was lying on the stairway with his brains leaking out the top of his head. And with the rifle barrel aimed point blank at Mr Snow it was too risky to burst in. He’d be dead before the door opened up far enough for them to shoot her down.
It was at this point that Mr Snow chose to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. He clutched his bruised forehead and groaned. ‘Sweet Sky-Mother …’ He looked down the barrels of the rifle then fixed Jodi with his faded blue eyes and chuckled hoarsely. ‘Goodness me, that looks rather dangerous!’
Jodi shrank back into the corner and aimed the rifle at his head. ‘Stay down! If you try to sit up I’ll shoot!’
Mr Snow raised
his head a little further then fell back with a gasp of pain and covered his face with his hands. ‘I can assure you that’s the last thing I feel like doing.’ He coughed and retched as if he was at his last gasp.
Steve saw Jodi’s rifle waver then, with a movement that was too quick to see, Mr Snow’s left hand flashed out and grasped the front of the rifle, deflecting it away from his body. His uncovered eyes blazed. The outstretched arm connecting him with the rifle was like a steel rod, every sinew and muscle taut and unyielding. A lightning conductor.
Jodi’s two-handed grip on the rifle tightened, every muscle in her body contracted as the current ran through her. Her lips drew away from her clenched teeth and her eyes dilated as she was hit by a series of convulsions; five massive shocks that jolted her from head to toe, followed by a sixth that slammed her lifeless body against the back wall of the cell.
Steve unlocked the cell door and rushed in as Mr Snow tried to sit up. ‘Are you all right?’
‘No, I’m not!’ snapped Mr Snow. ‘On top of everything else, some great oaf tried to take my head off! If it wasn’t for these he’d have knocked my brains out …’ He fingered the broken skin on the ridged front of his skull then said: ‘How’s it going?’
‘Don’t ask,’ said Steve. He looked down at Jodi’s crumpled body and heaved a sigh of regret. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. ‘Come on – I’ll take you to Cadillac.’
In the saddle, the young and the old master embraced each other warmly.
‘Easy, easy,’ grumped Mr Snow. ‘I’m feeling a little fragile.’ He sank into Hartmann’s chair and gazed at his surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. ‘What a strange world. How could anyone in their right mind want to live in a place like this?’
‘We’ll have to save the philosophical questions until later,’ said Cadillac. He squared up to Steve. ‘Good news and bad news. Your friends aboard Red River have agreed to fly your kin-sister over here to deal with the summoner that’s causing so much havoc.’ He glanced across at the semi-recumbent figure of Mr Snow.
‘The bad news is they want to exchange her for you and Malone. And you have to go there first. I’m planning to dispose of him on the way to the flight-deck during a gallant rearguard action. But we don’t have any steam. Can we get a plane off?’
‘Yes. Each catapult is fed from a reserve tank that’s kept topped up by the system. Even with the lines down they’ll be good for a couple of launches before the pressure falls off.’
‘Good. Okay, you’d better show me how it’s done.’
Steve looked surprised. ‘I’ve got to leave now?’
‘Yes! They’re waiting!’
Mr Snow rose to meet Steve as he came over to say goodbye. As they clasped each other’s hand and wrist, the old wordsmith’s grip was reassuringly strong.
‘Farewell, Old One. Would you believe me if I said it grieves me to leave you – especially at a time like this?’
‘This is how it was meant to be, Brickman. You’ve come a long way to find your true self. You’re close to the top of the mountain. Don’t fall!’
‘I’ll try not to …’
Cadillac and Steve climbed out of a duckhole onto the flight-deck. M’Call warriors armed with rifles and dressed in captured uniforms manned the other duck-holes to fool the circling wing-men into thinking that Hartmann’s battalion still controlled the top of the train.
A Skyhawk Mark 2 was parked on the deck with its bubble canopy open and tail booms folded. It had taken several hits from crossbow bolts but none of them had hit anything vital.
Cadillac peered at the exposed joints of the wing and tail booms. ‘How do we unfold these?’
Steve was momentarily flummoxed. ‘Err, shit, hang on a minute. Lemme see …’ He peered at the exposed wing joints then slapped his forehead. ‘Idiot! Of course! It’s hydraulic! You work it from inside the cockpit once you’ve started the engine.’ He leant into the cockpit and pointed out the control levers. ‘You push that one forward and lock it – so, and the other raises the tail.’
‘Okay. Let’s get you hooked up.’
‘Hang on, there’s a couple more things I need to show you.’ Steve led the way aft to the rear port duckhole and showed Cadillac the control mechanism that raised the arrester wires which engaged the landing hook of incoming planes.
‘Brickman, I know all this. I’ve learned everything you’ve learned.’
‘Yeah, like how to unfold the wings of a Mark 2.’
‘Even you were hazy about that.’
‘Yeah, well there’s no harm in making sure. It’s the cleverest people who make the stupidest mistakes. Like attacking the wrong wagon-train.’
Cadillac turned his face to the sky. ‘Sweet Sky Mother … are we never to hear the last of that?!’ He turned to Steve. ‘Don’t you understand?! Talisman guided us! Your masters tried to trick us but they played into our hands!
‘If we had attacked the real Red River every person on that train would have had to die leaving only you and Clearwater alive to tell of how your kin-sister was carried off into the hills. Reflect on that for a moment. Are your masters so foolish? Your treachery would soon have been exposed!’
‘You’re right,’ admitted Steve.
‘Of course I am! This way, your kin-sister is released as the Old One wished, and you will return a blood-stained hero! A loyal soldier-citizen of the Federation who did his utmost to protect his comrades-in-arms.’
‘Yeah … C’mon.’ Steve quickly ushered Cadillac to the forward duckhole on the starboard side and explained the launch control panel for the steam catapult.
‘Yes, yes, look, it’ll be quicker if I tell you,’ said Cadillac. ‘That’s the steam-pressure read-out. The top button raises the catapult, the second fires it, and the third one lowers it back into the deck. I’m having to revise my opinion of sand-burrowers. Like all the systems on this train, this was designed to be idiot-proof – something which most of you clearly are!’
‘You’ve forgotten something,’ said Steve. ‘I’m a Mute.’
He vaulted up onto the deck and climbed into the cockpit of the Skyhawk. As soon as the engine was running, he unfolded the outer wing panels then raised the tail. The twin booms which were folded forward under the wings, dropped down on parallel swing links then were brought up into line with the trailing edge of the wing by hydraulic rams. A small illuminated diagram on the instrument panel confirmed both wings and tail had locked into place.
Cadillac and another Mute warrior came forward to hook the Skyhawk onto the launch cradle as Steve taxied forward onto the catapult.
‘D’you want any help?!’ shouted Steve.
Cadillac popped up beside the open cockpit. ‘For heaven’s sake, Brickman – just GO!’ He smiled and offered Steve his hand. ‘Take care of our sister!’
‘I will,’ said Steve. ‘Make sure you take care of mine!’
Cadillac dropped the cockpit canopy into place and gave it a goodbye slap.
The wing-man circling immediately above the wagon-train pressed his transmit button. ‘Blue Three to Red River, we have one bird on its way.’
‘Red River to Blue Three, Roger. Any update on your last sit-rep?’
‘No. The Blazers are still holding down the roof and the Mutes are under the train. Over.’
‘Roger, Blue Three. Take out as many strays as you can. Let ’em know you’re there. But try not to damage the train. We want to get that Lady back on the road.’
‘Blue Three, Roger, Wilco. Listening out.’
Roz, Don Wallis, Jake Nevill and the rest of the task force scrambled up onto the flight deck as Steve landed. Red River ground crew quickly manhandled his battle-scarred Skyhawk onto the rear port lift as the first two out-going planes came up on the forward lifts and were lined up on the catapults.
Wallis ran his eyes over the protruding crossbow bolts then turned to Steve as he emerged from the cockpit. ‘This doesn’t look too good …’
‘Don’t worry
,’ said Steve. ‘We’re holding the line. If we weren’t, I’d never have gotten clear.’ He paused then said: ‘Did you get the news a –’
‘About Malone?’ Wallis’s face tightened. ‘Yeah, Hartmann …’ He shrugged off the rest of the sentence.
‘Losing him was a real blow,’ said Steve. ‘He was a great guy.’
‘The best …’ Wallis buried his feelings and became the brisk team-leader. ‘Okay, guys, off you go.’
George Hannah and Cal Parsons hurried towards the aircraft that was now hooked up and ready to go.
‘Jake! Let’s go wind up Number Two!’ Wallis gripped Roz’s arm. ‘You got one minute!’ He strode off with Nevill.
Darryl Coates and Tom Watkins headed across the deck towards a third Skyhawk, complete with buddy-frame that had just come up on the rear starboard lift.
Roz and Steve hesitated for a moment before throwing themselves into a warm, rocking bearhug. When they separated, they held onto each other’s arms. The slipstream from the propellors flattened their clothing and snatched the words from their mouths.
‘Why’s this happening, Roz? Where’re you gonna go? What’re you gonna do?’
‘I can’t say!’ she cried. ‘I’m just glad to be part of it – aren’t you?’
He tightened his grip. ‘I’m scared. Are you sure you’re not hiding something from me?’
‘No. Wait – did you pick up my message about Annie?’
‘Annie …?’
‘Yes, ages ago. I obviously didn’t get through. She wasn’t our mother, Steve.’
‘Yeah, well, with what we know now that makes sense …’
‘But don’t you see what it means? You’re not my brother and I’m not your sister!’
‘There’s no need to sound so happy about it.’
‘I’m happy because we’re both free! Free from the guilt and the pressure of that relationship. Free to give expression to that love we felt or give it to someone else. To follow The Path, Steve!’
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