Lithia affected a confused, slightly insulted look. "I don't know—"
"And my Rangers damn sure aren't for sale. You'll play by my rules down here."
Lithia frosted over. "I have played by the rules, Captain. I have the triplicate permits to prove it. I don't understand or appreciate your aggression. I have tried very hard to meet with you since my arrival in Temptation. But you were never available. I'm trying desperately to work with the Rangers to make this a decent place to live again, to at least return it to the state the people enjoyed prior to the Worldstorm. And then to move beyond that. Hellstromme Industries understands that the Colonial Rangers are vital to the success of this project. We are interested only in enhancing your ability to do your job."
"This ain't a project, it's a town. And I don't slobber like a dog over technology. We've done without for a long time down here, and we can keep on. The Colonial Rangers won't be Hellstromme's private thugs."
"I'm sure we had no—"
"I'm the law in Temptation. You can go along or get out. If you push me, I'll shut you down." Ross touched the brim of his hat. "Ma'am."
"Captain." Lithia sat quietly. She had no desire to argue. There was no purpose in it. She watched Ross sweep out of the office and monitored him until he was stalking down the street through the wind. Just as she expected, he didn't smirk in childish triumph, thrilled by his tough talk and dramatic exit. For a man like Captain Ross, this meeting hadn't been a show; he wasn't posturing. He was giving his policy statement. And it was a troubling one for Lithia.
Just as she feared, this old Ranger was going to be an impediment. It wasn't that Ross didn't understand that Temptation would never progress without the considerable inputs of Hellstromme Industries, he just didn't care. He was willing to stand in the way of HI, to condemn this town to a perpetual frontier savagery, because he thrived in that environment. It made him necessary.
Lithia completely understood Ross. There was no debating with a man like that; he would never see reason. This was life and death for him; he could have only one position. But it was life and death for Lithia too. Fortunately, because she understood a man like Ross, she also knew how to deal with him.
The door behind her opened and a man stepped out. "That Ross is a real pain in the ass, ain't he?"
Lithia didn't turn. She could smell the mixture of alcohol and cheap hair tonic. "Yes, he is. I have a job for you."
The man sat heavily on the edge of Lithia's desk and leered at the woman. "I'm ready for anything, darling."
She glanced up icily at Ranger Ty Miller. She rejected any number of insulting retorts. This man was a child with an inflated sense of self-importance; he might react badly and she didn't need a tantrum spoiling her plans. Miller's quickness to be insulted was the reason he was here in the first place. He resented the way Ross treated him. That, and he was a raging drunk with a gambling problem. Ty Miller was one of the easiest coats Lithia had ever turned.
She told the Ranger, "It's time to remove Captain Ross from his position."
Miller lifted the whiskey bottle he clutched in his left hand to his lips and took a deep swig. Then he ran a finger along his moustache. "How you gonna do that?"
"I'm not going to. You are."
Miller screwed up his face in confusion. Then a look of horror appeared. "Whoa! Wait a minute! You think I'm gonna kill him?"
"Can't you?"
"Sure I could. I could put a bullet in him, and I might enjoy it, but where would that leave me? I don't intend to live the rest of my life with every Ranger on Banshee hunting me."
"I can see to it that you are removed from the scene. Far away where no Colonial Ranger will ever touch you."
Miller took a drink and gave out a wet gasp. "Forget it. You're not shipping me off to some planetoid or space station out on the rim. This crappy rock is the closest thing to Earth in this system. I'm not leaving it until I go home."
Lithia asked, "Well then, couldn't you stage some sort of provocation then shoot him in self-defense?"
Miller snorted. "Ross is a worthless son of a bitch, but even I'll admit he's hell with a firearm. There's no way I can outgun him."
"Can you recruit any of your fellow Rangers?"
"Are you kidding? They all kiss the ground he walks on. The old freak went off the deep end after Dallas died and they still think he's the last word. Why don't you just send some of those expensive robots of yours to blow his head off?"
Lithia sat back in her chair. "It's a tad obvious. But you may have an idea."
Miller grinned and sprawled across the desk. "I got lots of ideas, Lith."
The executive stared at the sodden Ranger. "That seems unlikely. However, I believe I may have some bait for Captain Ross."
"I bet that's true."
Lithia took a pen and pressed against Miller's arm as if she was shoveling the carcass of a dead animal off the road. "Why don't you take your breath out until I contact you again?"
Miller winked and pointed a finger pistol at her. "You got my number."
"Yes. I do."
General Quantrill had spent months pouring over maps of Banshee. He had made peace with the debacle at Castle Rock. The failure was not his own. He wouldn't have attacked Castle Rock in the first place. It was Avernus and the disgusting Tekkeng who pressured him into abandoning his successful southern campaign. He knew the whole thing would come to a poor end with Avernus designing the strategy, but he relented to the pressure of the moment.
Quantrill wouldn't make that mistake again. He was excited because he now had formulated an excellent strategy for the conquest of the planet. It was foolproof and would make him the master of Banshee in only two short campaigning seasons, perhaps three allowing for unforeseen difficulties. The only problem was that he didn't have an army.
That was Avernus's problem, not his. He was command. Avernus was supply. It remained only for Avernus to find another supply of dead sykers and revive them. The few that had come in over the last few weeks were poor specimens and few in number compared to the great divisions of dead they had mined from the Red River valley. But still, enough of the old Syker Legion had been killed during Quantrill's days fighting the colonial wars, that there should be thousands more corpses moldering under the dry soil of Banshee. If Avernus would simply attend to business, the new Legion could be in place by the end of winter.
However, Quantrill saw little of Avernus these days. The Fallen had taken to secreting himself away in Dr. Lupinz's old laboratories and conducting his experiments on inmates and cats. Avernus expected the Rangers to attack any day and he wanted to be ready.
Quantrill, on the other hand, was less convinced that the Colonial Rangers would assault the Sanitarium. He was a master of strategy and tactics, and he had sent elements of his once proud Reformed Syker Legion to far-flung places around the planet to distract the Rangers' attention and dissipate their resolve. Quantrill knew that Ross endlessly patrolled the asylum perimeter watching for signs of the General. But he also knew that he and Avernus had succeeded in hiding their presence from Ross's pet syker, the Legionary deserter Hallow, and that the Ranger captain had no evidence that the General was inside the Sanitarium. And Captain Ross had not returned to his watch post for several days now, leading Quantrill to assume that the Ranger had given up the chase as fruitless.
This gave the General even more confidence that he had time to reform his forces and strike at a time and place of his choosing. He would hit Temptation first with sufficient force to level the town and turn the surviving population into food for his army. If not for Captain Marat's failure, Quantrill would still have Temptation as a base. Yet, a great commander took setbacks and turned them to his own advantage. Quantrill was a great commander.
The door to Dr. Lupinz's office opened and Avernus entered. He was still in the guise of Lupinz, a visage which he hardly ever abandoned now. It was disturbing to Quantrill, not because he resented the original Lupinz, which he did, but because it made him q
uestion Avernus's mental stability.
Avernus looked distressed. This was an emotion Quantrill had never seen on the Fallen's face, in any guise. It caused the General to sit back from his maps.
Avernus paused to think how to say what he had to say. As he thought, he stripped off bloody gloves and slipped off a gore stained apron. He dropped the items in a pile on the floor.
Quantrill snarled silently. He had come to think of Lupinz's office as his own, and he was a tidy, organized man. "What do you want, Avernus?"
The Fallen snapped his glowing eyes on the undead syker. "We have a serious problem."
The General was tired of Avernus's pessimism. "There are no problems. Only challenges."
"How quaint," Avernus replied. "Do you recall when you told me that you had killed the Colonial Ranger named Dallas?"
Quantrill smiled at the traces of her pain in his memory, and at the thought of Captain Ross's anguish. "Of course."
"Well, she's alive."
The General merely looked at the Fallen for a moment. "What do you mean?" Then he leaned forward with an evil grin. "You revived her for our use? How twisted."
"No. She is alive. Not reanimated. Alive."
"That's impossible. How did you get your information?"
"I sensed her. She is out there. And there is something unusually powerful about her."
Quantrill scowled. "No. You've made a mistake. I know she's dead. I saw her die. I felt her die."
"There is no mistake. She may well have been dead. But she is alive today. I don't understand how it happened. I don't understand what she is."
The General slammed his rotting fists on the mahogany desk, leaving patches of skin on the wooden surface and rattling the windows. "My God! How do I get rid of this woman!"
Avernus turned to the window and watched the bleak winter landscape. He saw several of his cats keeping watch, their fur bristling in the wind. He pondered the horizon and wondered what was happening on this planet.
Quantrill surged to his feet. "Let's go, Avernus! I'll recall the Legion. You marshal your servitors. And we'll crush Temptation now. We'll put an end to this bothersome woman once and for all!"
Avernus didn't turn. "That is a mistake."
The General swept the maps from the desk with a shout of rage. "What do you know? You told me Captain Ross was broken! You sent me to Castle Rock! You saddled me with Tekkeng and his petty private agenda! Don't tell me what's a mistake!"
Avernus crackled with energy. "I raised you from your grave, General. I'll tell you whatever I choose. And you will believe it. Without me, you would be a pile of desiccated flesh and lifeless bone."
Quantrill's eyes glowed. "Power and the ability to use it are two different things."
Avernus kept his back to the dangerous General. "Thank you for the philosophy lesson. Now, this Ranger can only be destroyed in a deadland. You will not take her in Temptation. She draws strength from it."
"You sound like you're afraid of her."
"I am," Avernus said in a matter of fact way. "We cultivate the fear of others. She cultivates their courage. It's a sinister tendency she has. And one that we need to snuff out. We must bring her here where our power is supreme. We can destroy her here."
As a general, Quantrill believed in taking the fight to the enemy's homeland, destroying their resources, burning their homes. It was against his military nature to invite the enemy onto his territory. But no matter how he resented it, he sensed the truth in what Avernus said. Quantrill had detected an odd strength in Ranger Dallas himself when he encountered her in Temptation. Not only did she resist psychic tampering, but also the other Rangers focused on her, fed off her spirit. They respected Captain Ross, but they believed in her. They were even willing to die for her. Most of them anyway. There was something uniquely dangerous about this Dallas. Perhaps it would be wise to drag her into their home, stripped of her friends and support, cut off from the planet, to better finish her off.
Quantrill returned to his seat and the arcs of power diminished. "What are your recommendations?"
Avernus tapped the windowpane idly. "We'll complete our preparations and wait. In time, she'll come. She has to. And then she'll die. Again and forever."
Chapter 10
Doc Dazy removed the stethoscope from Debbi's chest. "Sounds good. Strong. Normal." The Doctor had been in a near stupor since Ross had accompanied Debbi into his office. He had gone through the rote motions of a physical examination as if he was doing a random check up. Her pulse was good. Blood pressure was good. Respiration was good. Reflexes were good. Her eyes were good. Her hearing was good. He took blood and prepared a slide immediately. It looked good, although her white count was elevated a little. The Doctor now paused with the end of the stethoscope poised in midair, lost in thought.
Debbi leaned closer to the stethoscope and whispered, "Boo."
Doc Dazy jumped back and fell off his chair. He scrambled back across the floor until he recovered his wits. Debbi and Ross laughed at him. He glared up at the two as he regained his feet, straightened his eyeglasses, and brushed his muck encrusted lab coat.
"That's funny," he said stiffly. "Hilariously funny. I could've broken something."
Ross asked, "So what's the verdict? Is she alive?"
Dazy yanked the stethoscope from his ears and crossed the old operating theater to petulantly attend to some duties organizing instruments that mere civilians couldn't appreciate the importance of. "Yes. She's as healthy as a horse." He turned back and pointed at Debbi. "Your weight is down a bit, but that's to be expected after a couple of months in a casket without eating. So you have my permission to eat everything in sight."
Debbi stared unblinkingly back at the Doctor. She hopped off the examination table and licked her lips. "I must say, I've had some peculiar cravings lately."
Doc Dazy backed up abruptly against the equipment tray, sending it clattering to the tile floor with an ear-shattering clang. He glanced at Ross with eyes of sudden fear.
Ross laughed again, almost doubled over. The Ranger Captain never laughed this hard at anything.
Debbi appraised her boss with a curious glance. "Funnier when you're not on the receiving end, isn't it?"
Ross wiped away tears of mirth. "Damn straight."
The Doctor scowled at Ross then waggled an angry finger at Debbi. "Stop it! That's just childish! See how funny it is next time you come looking to have a bullet dug out of you! Yeah, that'll be a scream, I guarantee it!"
"Sorry," Debbi said. "Look, can you tell me anything?"
"No." Doc Dazy settled down and began to collect the fallen tools. "No. I don't have any earthly explanation for it."
"Any chance she wasn't really dead?" Ross asked.
"No," the Doctor replied quickly. "She was dead. I examined her. She wasn't just unconscious or catatonic. She was shredded by Quantrill's mindstorm." He briefly considered how those blunt comments might adversely affect Debbi, but then he remembered her jokes at his expense. "No, she was dead. Dead. Dead."
"Now I'm not," Debbi said. "But I'm not a zombie?"
"No. You could look at them and you'd see dead tissue. They were green. They smelled. You're just like you were before. You do smell of hyacinth."
"How would you explain it?" Ross asked.
"Soap?"
"Not the hyacinth," the veteran Ranger snapped. "Her being alive."
Doc Dazy tossed the gathered instruments on the tray. "Explain it? Hell, I haven't been able to explain anything around here for years." He crossed the room and shook the hand of a bemused Debbi. "You're back from the dead. Way to go."
There was a sudden clatter of a crowd in the hallway of the infirmary. Doc Dazy pulled off his glasses in exasperation.
"Oh what now?" he exclaimed.
Ross said, "It's the Rangers. I asked them to meet here."
"Why? This isn't an Elk's Lodge. It's a hospital."
"I wanted them all to see her for the first time together."
&
nbsp; "No one knows she's alive?"
Debbi grabbed her things. "A few, but not many. We wanted to make sure I was kosher before we made any sort of announcement."
"Whatever." Doc Dazy busied himself with pointless straightening. He had never seemed so distracted, even during the height of the undead invasion. Debbi's resurrection had thrown him badly.
The swinging door to the operating room swung open slightly and Stew poked his head inside.
"Ready?" he asked.
Debbi signaled to bring everyone in. Stew nodded and withdrew. She took a deep breath and leaned back on the examining table.
The double doors swung wide. Fitz and Chennault were the first through. They were busy quibbling about why they were here. No one liked the infirmary. Ngoma crowded behind them with Tsukino and Curtiz. Hickok was with them too, looking like part of the crowd after a few months of cooperating in the hunt for Quantrill. Ringo brought up the rear, looking confused and somewhat lost. Fitz saw Debbi and stopped dead in his tracks. Ngoma and Tsukino collided with his broad back. Chennault continued chattering before she noticed the big Irishman was no longer beside her. She looked back at him curiously, and then followed his wide-eyed gaze to Debbi.
Chennault asked, "What the hell is that thing?"
"What thing?" Ngoma craned his neck around Fitz. "What—"
Debbi smiled nervously and waved. "Hey guys."
Chennault looked at Ross and jerked her thumb at Debbi. "Hey, Ross, what's that thing?"
Ross stayed silent.
Debbi said, "It's me, Chennault. Debbi."
The squat ex-Marine smirked. "What kinda sick gag is this?"
Debbi said, "I know it's a shock. We don't understand any more than you will. But here I am. Alive and breathing."
Ringo poked Fitz in the ribs with his elbow. "Hey. You seeing this too?" The kid was just starting to come to the conclusion that maybe this wasn't a dream. Maybe it was something more incredible.
Fitz didn't respond. He just stared at Debbi with his shocked mouth wide.
"I'm seeing it," Tsukino replied. "Is it really you?"
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