“Sure looks like they got a bug up their butts,” J.B. said. “Do you think Mildred and Jak made their play?”
“Could be this is the otherworlders’ response,” Ryan said. “They could be getting ready to launch an attack on Ground Zero.”
“Or they could be getting ready for us,” Dix said. “If they found the naked troopers, they might have guessed we’re in their suits. If that’s the case, that wag coming our way is big trouble. We’ve got no weapons and nowhere to run.”
“So we’ll just stay put and play it out,” Ryan said. “Let’s screw on our helmets and keep down.”
The first assault wag zoomed up the track toward them, but it didn’t slow down and it didn’t stop. Ryan watched it go by through the crack between the wag’s rear gate and side frame. J.B. gave Ryan a thumbs-up sign.
So far so good.
Their ore wag continued down the road. When it reached the edge of the glass and rumbled onto the dirt, three more assault wags roared around it and shot up the road toward Ground Zero. The ore wag circled the domes and stopped beside the processing trailer, where another truck was in the middle of being unloaded.
Ryan tapped J.B. on the helmet and they bailed out of the back of the wag. Vaulting the far side of the bed, they scrambled to the ground. Then they moved quickly around the front of the wag and along the side of the trailer.
The compound was in chaos. And it wasn’t just men readying themselves for battle. Troopers were pounding fluorescent-pink perimeter markers into the dirt, creating a roughly elliptical shape around a lineup of their mobile gear. At either end of the row were big black trailers. Not ore processors. These had no hoppers for dumping in nukeglass. And they were connected to the fuel trailer by long, thick, black hoses. They were the only machines connected to the fuel trailer, which stood in the middle and to one side of the ellipse.
Around the processor there was a frantic jockeying of other gear. Troopers were using wags to tow gyros into the line. The aircrafts’ rotors were secured for transport, folded up into points above their fuselages. Other equipment was stacked on pallets, covered with plastic webbing. Ryan could see battlesuited troopers carrying stuff out of the cluster of domes, moving it inside the marked perimeter.
“What the blazes is all this about?” J.B. asked, his voice muffled by the helmet.
“Looks like moving day,” Ryan said. “Except for that.” He pointed up the road at the last of the four wags as it disappeared over the summit of the rise. The two gyros were long gone. “They are definitely sending troops to Ground Zero,” he said. “The assault wags will take some time to get there. But not the gyros. They’ll be within striking distance in a few minutes. We’ve got to find the main comp and disable the cuffs.”
“What about Krysty?” J.B. asked.
“The cuffs first, then Krysty,” Ryan said. He took Dean’s bone blade out of the top of his boot and palmed it. “Let’s go.”
They started walking for the entrance to the domes. Because everyone else in the compound was running, Ryan broke into a trot. He and J.B. blended right in. No one paid them any mind. The other troopers were too preoccupied with their own duties to notice the unusual condensation on the inside of their visors, or the crude puncture holes in the backs of their helmets. Ryan knew the possibility that the naked troopers had been discovered and that they were heading into a trap was growing less and less likely. Which was a break since their only chance if a firefight broke out was to be inside the structures.
As they entered the doorway, a pair of troopers exited carrying armfuls of green canisters.
The doors along the hallway were all ajar. Ryan slowed his pace so he could look into each of them as he passed by. J.B. followed closely behind him. The rooms looked ransacked, and there were no comps in evidence. More troopers came their way, pushing dollies stacked with heavy crates. They passed in the corridor without incident.