Synthezoids Endworld 30

by Robbins, David

  “I think you’re nuts,” Geronimo said.

  “That’s a little harsh,” Rikki said.

  “You heard him!” Geronimo said. “He thinks he can waltz in and be assigned to the run without having to go through the training the rest of the apprentices did. As if he’s special. As if his intellect means he can take shortcuts no one else can.” Geronimo was insulted by the very idea. He stared hard at Sherlock. “It’s not that easy.”

  “I never suggested it would be,” Sherlock said quietly. “Quite the contrary. The Valley of Shadow, based on all I’ve heard, is one of the most perilous places on earth. It would serve as a supreme test of my worthiness.”

  “Forget it,” Geronimo said.

  “I beg you to reconsider,” Sherlock said. “You need someone with some degree of scientific expertise, which neither either of you nor the trainees possess.”

  “No means no.”

  Sherlock appealed to Rikki. “And you, sir? You’ve seen how competent I am. Would you refuse me, too? When in your heart you know I’m right.”

  “I’m sorry, Sherlock,” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi said. “Geronimo is head Warrior. It’s his decision.”

  Frowning, Sherlock tapped his shoulder with his cane. “This has turned out as I had surmised it might. Pity.”

  “You tried,” Geronimo said.

  “I’m not done trying,” Sherlock said. “Since a personal appeal didn’t work, I must resort to the influence of others.”

  “To what?” Geronimo said.

  Sherlock turned and called out, “Tesla! If you please!”

  To Geronimo’s consternation, the Family’s chief Scientist entered and placed himself beside the young man in tweeds. Tesla nodded at Rikki and then said to Geronimo, “Sherlock first broached his idea to me. He also predicted you would refuse. I offered to come talk to you on his behalf but he preferred to try first himself. He did agree to keep me in reserve, just in case. And here I am.”

  “This is Warrior business,” Geronimo said more gruffly than he intended. “You have no say.” Only the Family’s Leader could override the head Warrior.

  “I should hope my expertise would count for something,” Tesla said.

  “How so?”

  “Bear with me,” Tesla said. “You’ve been to the Valley of Shadow. To the Tower or Needle, as we’re calling it now. It’s a repository of scientific marvels. The time machine we helped ourselves to, or whatever the device might be, is but one example. There’s A.l.v.i.s., for another. And who knows how many more Thanatos dreamed up.”

  “So?” Geronimo said.

  “My point is that Sherlock, here, is endowed with more scientific acumen than most in the Family. That being the case, he would be of great benefit on the run. Additionally, he can fight. Taking all that into account, I’m asking as a personal favor—-and to increase the likelihood of success—-that you let Rikki take him along.”

  Geronimo shook his head. He refused to bend the rules. Blade seldom did, and Blade was one of the best Warriors in the entire history of the Family.

  “Maybe we should reconsider,” Rikki said.

  “Give me one good reason,” Geronimo countered.

  “Tesla already has,” Rikki said. “The scientific aspect. I’m the first to admit that during my schooling years, I had zero interest in science. We could use someone who knows a little about the stuff.”

  “A.l.v.i.s has told us where to find the journals,” Geronimo reminded him. “He’s even drawn a map so you can get in and out, quick. There’s not much science involved.”

  “You still refuse to let me go along?” Sherlock said.

  “I do,” Geronimo said.

  “I was afraid you might. You have long evinced an obstinate streak.”

  “A what?”

  “Which is why I took a step that might displease you but which I deemed crucial.” Sherlock urned and said loudly, “You can come in now, sir.”

  The Family’s Leader strolled through the door, his long grey beard down to his waist, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a robe with a high collar and a wide belt. “Everyone,” he said to the four of them.

  Geronimo stood. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said angrily to Sherlock. “You brought Socrates into this?”

  “Now, now,” Socrates said. “All he did was present his case for going along. I listened with an open mind. And I agree with Tesla that taking Sherlock is the wise thing to do.”

  Geronimo was close to boiling over. To him it was underhanded to go to the chief Scientist and their Leader behind his back. “And if I still say no?”

  “May I remind you,” Socrates said, “that except when the Home is under attack, the Warriors are subject to my wishes the same as the rest of the Family?”

  “Only if you make it a direct order,” Geronimo said.

  “See?” Sherlock said to no one in particular. “Obstinate.”

  “I do make it an order,” Socrates said. “This young man is to accompany the other trainees to the Valley of Shadow, and that’s final. Rikki, you will see that he does. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Rikki said.

  “And you, Geronimo?” Socrates said. “Will you do as you’re told? Yea or nay?”

  “You’re the boss,” Geronimo said. But deep down he wanted to hit someone. Specifically, someone holding a cane.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Except for the three Warriors on wall duty and the Healers who were in attendance on Blade, Hickok and Yama, the whole Family turned out to see the SEAL off.

  The Solar Energized Amphibious or Land Recreational Vehicle was the brainchild of Kurt Carpenter, the Family’s Founder. He spent a fortune on the prototype, which was constructed and brought to the Home shortly before the world went to Hades in an orgy of nuclear, chemical and biological destruction. To disguise its true purpose, in the records it was described as a ‘recreational’ vehicle. That was Carpenter’s little joke. The SEAL was anything but.

  Outwardly, nothing revealed its true purpose. It looked like an ordinary, if oversized, van. The outer shell was composed of the most advanced polymer available at the time. Tinted, it enabled those inside to see out in all directions. Solar panels on the roof were its main source of power. Its huge tires were puncture-proof. A spacious interior allowed for bucket seats at the front, a long seat in the middle, and a large storage area at the rear.

  On the dashboard were four toggles that activated military-grade hardware acquired on the black market at great cost. Each was labelled with a single letter. ‘M’ stood for a pair of .50-caliber machine guns hidden in recessed compartments under the headlights. ‘S’ designated a surface-to-air missile that Carpenter picked up from contacts in Russia. The third toggle was marked ‘F’ for a flame thrower mounted behind the front bumper. And finally, an ‘R’ triggered a rocket launcher rigged to fire through a tube in the grill.

  Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was versed enough in the SEAL’s operation and mechanics that he was confident he could traverse any terrain they encountered. At the moment he was standing under an elm tree with others, watching Eleanor, Kanto and Crom load the last of their supplies and ammunition into the storage area.

  “You’re almost set,” Socrates stated the obvious.

  Rikki had loaded his own gear earlier. He was wearing his usual black uniform. His katana, as always, was at his waist. “I’ll keep in contact for as long as I can.”

  “Those radios we got from the Civilized Zone are coming in handy,” Geronimo mentioned. “Too bad we lost contact.”

  Blade’s and Hickok’s wives were wending through the onlookers. The two women had been inseparable since their husbands were stricken.

  “Jenny. Sherry,” Rikki greeted them.

  Jenny gave Rikki a hug, saying in his ear, “Take care out there, you hear? Stay safe and bring back what I need to save my man.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Rikki promised.

  Sherry clasped his arm. “The same goes for me. That goof of mine dies, I won�
�t take it well.”

  Tesla chose that moment to join them. “You have the map A.l.v.i.s provided? And you’ll remember his description of the journals and where to find them?”

  “I do and I will,” Rikki assured him.

  “Who knows what you’ll run into?” Tesla said. “Not even A.l.v.i.s was privy to all the Tower’s secrets.” He paused. “Oh. Sorry. The Needle.” He looked around. “Where is our synthezoid friend, anyway? I wanted him to be here to offer any last minute advice or instructions he might have.”

  “Speaking of being here,” Geronimo said. “Where’s Sherlock?”

  Rikki was wondering the same thing. He’d told the apprentices to be at the SEAL half an hour before departure time, which was set for eight a.m.. “Maybe he changed his mind.”

  “We should be so lucky,” Geronimo said.

  “Now, now,” Socrates said. “Your antipathy is unfounded. In his way, he’s a brilliant young man. I expect that he will prove essential to your mission.”

  Rikki hoped so. During the time he had trained Sherlock in hand-to-hand combat and the use of the cane Sherlock preferred, he had seen nothing to indicate the younger man was all that extraordinary. Competent, yes, but Sherlock wasn’t as skilled as, say, Eleanor with her sword or Kanto with his stilettos or Crom with his war axe and rifle. Sherlock did seem to notice more things than most, but of what use that would be remained to be seen.

  “Speak of the devil,” Geronimo said.

  Sherlock was bustling toward them wearing a large backpack and holding a smaller pack in his left hand. In his right was his cane. Slung over his shoulder, to Rikki’s surprise, was an SMG with a folding stock.

  “Sherlock! Good to see you,” Socrates said.

  Tesla said. “We’re counting on you on this trip.”

  Paying no attention to them, Sherlock addressed Rikki. “Sorry I’m late. It occurred to me that we would be remiss in not taking certain equipment so I paid a visit to the lab.” He gave the large backpack a tap with his cane. “I have a geiger counter, a chemistry kit, a microscope, a portable blood analyzer and the best air tester I could find.”

  “What in the world for?” Geronimo said.

  “I should think it would be obvious,” Sherlock said. “The Big Blast was over a hundred years ago but there are still hot spots we must watch out for. Hence, the geiger counter. Chemical and biowarfare toxins are rife in the ecological chain. Hence, the chemistry kit and the microscope. Airborne particulates are also a hazard. Thus, the air tester. The blood analyzer should be apparent. How else are we to ensure we remain in good health?”

  Rikki admired his initiative, and decided not to mention that he had already stored a geiger counter and an air tester in the SEAL. Besides, he was more interested in the SMG. “And that?” he said, pointing.

  “A BXP,” Sherlock said. “The only one in the Armory. Manufactured in a country called South Africa. 9mm. Magazine capacity is 32 rounds. Rate of fire, a thousand rounds a minute. No fire selector. The trigger controls the rate.”

  “You almost sound as if you know what you’re talking about,” Geronimo said.

  “I should,” Sherlock said, unfazed. “Hickok taught me how to use it.”

  “The hell you say,” Geronimo said.

  “When I need instruction, I go to the best,” Sherlock said. “It’s why I asked Rikki to teach me unarmed combat. Hickok, bar none, is the best shooter. So I went to him for firearm instruction.”

  “He never told me that he trained you,” Geronimo said.

  “I asked him not to say anything. In return I gave him some pointers.”

  Geronimo couldn’t hide his disbelief. “You taught Hickok something?”

  “How to read involuntary muscle movement and to gauge another’s intent by their saccadic rhythms.”

  “Their what?”

  “Eye movements.”

  “What interest would Hickok have in any of that?” Geronimo said skeptically.

  “As he put it, so he could tell what other hombres are up to that much sooner and plug them that much quicker.”

  “Sounds like my man,” Sherry said proudly.

  “Load up,” Rikki said to Sherlock to forestall more quizzing by Geronimo. Motioning at the latter, he said, “Will the rest of you excuse us? We have a few things to discuss.”

  Geronimo waited until they were out of earshot to say, “We do?”

  “What’s with you?” Rikki got right to it. “Why are you being so hard on Sherlock?”

  “Do you mean besides the fact he went over our heads and behind our backs to force us to do something we wouldn’t have done just so he can prove he’s Warrior material?”

  “So he bent the rules a little.”

  “No. He broke them. You need to open your eyes. He’s a loose cannon, the last thing you need on this run, what with three kittens to look after.”

  “Kitten with claws,” Rikki said.

  “They’ll follow your orders, as they’ve been trained. But Sherlock hasn’t had Warrior training, has he?”

  “If he wants to be one of us so much, he’ll do as I tell him,” Rikki predicted. “There’s more going on here than you’re letting on. You’re not usually this down on someone without cause.”

  Geronimo looked toward the SEAL and the three young apprentices, and Sherlock. “I don’t like adding an outsider to the mix.”

  Rikki placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What will be, will be. All the worry in the world can’t change that. The important thing, the only thing that matters, is that come what may, we make it there and back with what we need to save the others.”

  “Hickok,” Geronimo said softly, and bowed his head.

  “It is only natural you’re worried about him. Since the two of you were little, he’s always been there for you and you’ve always been there for him. Blade, too, but your bond with Hickok runs deeper, I think. Your bond with him is of the soul.”

  Geronimo chuckled. “Don’t ever tell him that. He’d think you were—-what’s that word he uses? Loco.”

  They made for the SEAL. Crom, Eleanor and Kanto were hugging their parents and siblings and saying their goodbyes.

  Rikki noticed Sherlock by himself by the rear fender, and went over. “No one to send you off?”

  “Have you forgotten?” Sherlock said. “My parents were killed by a mutate when I was eight.”

  “Friends, then?” Rikki said.

  Sherlock shifted his weight from one leg to the next. “I find it hard to make them. Something about me, about my nature, is off-putting.”

  “You’ll make friends on this run,” Rikki said, with a nod at the three trainees.

  “How can you be so sure? They might not like me.”

  “Battle brings out the brotherhood in men and women.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” Sherlock said. “I should think we’d be mostly concerned with staying alive.”

  “That too,” Rikki said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kanto would never admit it to anyone but secretly he was elated that this opportunity had arisen. Not that he wished the stricken Warriors to die or anything, but thanks to their illness, he was finally doing what he had longed to do since he threw his first knife. He was going out in the real world and might get to kill. Not wild beasts. Not poisonous snakes or scorpions or mutates. But possibly real, live, enemies.

  Kanto couldn’t wait to find out if he had it in him to fulfill his life’s longing. He often wished he had been born back in the sixteenth century. What a great time to be an assassin! He would have excelled, he was sure. Been the best there was at what he loved to do.

  Seated in the front passenger seat of the SEAL, he gazed out over the plain ahead and caught sight of his reflection in the side mirror. Kanto grinned. He liked looking at himself in mirrors. His curly hair, his impeccable fashion sense, he was the perfect picture of an Italian gentleman from the era he loved.

  Kanto glanced down at himself. No one wou
ld guess that under his billowy sleeves, strapped to each forearm, were sheaths. On his left forearm were throwing knives. On his right, stilettos. He also had knives on his belt and strapped securely above each ankle. He was passionate about knives. Were it up to him, they were the only weapon he’d use. But he was the first to admit that a knife against a gun was often impractical, which was why he carried a Bernardelli P-018—-Italian made, what else?–on his right hip, and a Beretta AR 70—-also of Italian manufacture before the war—-slung over his left shoulder.

  Reaching up, he adjusted his round Italian cap, then looked down at his Italian-style boots.

  “Something the matter?” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi asked.

  “Not a thing, sir,” Kanto replied. “I couldn’t be happier.”

  “You keep looking at your clothes.” Rikki smiled. “Or should I say costume?”

  Kanto grinned. “I confess to being a tad flamboyant. I like to think I honor my heritage.”

  From the middle seat, directly behind him, came a bleat of mirth. “Dude, you look like you should be in one of those dress-up plays the teachers made us do when we were kids,” Crom said. “Why can’t you dress normal like the rest of us?”

  “Says the guy who runs around half-naked half the time,” Kanto reminded him.

  “Shorts aren’t naked,” Crom said.

  “To each their own, I say,” Eleanor spoke up. She was in the center, her longsword unslung, the point resting on the floor, her hands on the hilt above the crossguard. “The Good Lord made each of us different. We should be true to who we are.”

  Crom stared at her. “You’re the religious wench, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a swordwoman, not a ‘wench’,” Eleanor said. “I’ll thank you to remember that.”

  “A touchy wench, too,”  Crom said.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Eleanor said.

  Rikki-Tikki-Tavi cleared his throat. “Enough bickering. This run is a test of how mature you can be, not how childish.”

  “Give me some heads to bash with my war axe and I’ll show you mature, Warrior style,” Crom said.

  Kanto started to shake his head in amusement but caught himself. To his way of thinking, Crom was the most childish of them all. Swaggering around the way he did, always flexing his muscles and acting as if he were God’s gift to Creation.