While the troopers were trying to keep Doc and Dean and the others from stoning them to death, Jak’s and Mildred’s laser beams turned the glass under their boots to gel. Whether they could sense the heat through their battlesuits or not, the troopers didn’t move.
It was a mistake.
The entire section of glass, which was a continuation of the already partially collapsed roof of the tunnel, caved in on itself, dropping four of the five troopers twenty-five feet to the mine floor. The fifth trooper sank to his armpits in a much smaller hole in the glass, but stopped himself from falling through by extending his arms. To do this, he had to drop his weapon.
Another mistake.
Before he could drag himself out of the hole, the molten glass cooled and resolidified around him, sealing him in place like a cork in a bottle.
By the time Jak and Mildred jumped from their shooting platforms and crossed the compound, the slaves had closed in on the hapless trooper. They had taken off the guy’s helmet and were using his head as a kicking-punching bag. Because he couldn’t twist or turn his torso, he couldn’t use his arms to block or defend himself from blows from behind. He couldn’t fall over, either, because the battlesuit was holding him up. A stationary target.
Jak stepped to the larger hole he and Mildred had cut and looked over the edge. The other troopers lay on the ground below. It was impossible to tell whether they had broken limbs as a result of the fall or whether the melted glass had hardened; either way, they weren’t getting up under their own power. Some of the slaves started tumbling big glass blocks on top of them, but they were called off by their comrades, who had other ideas about vengeance.
Most of the slaves rushed down to the ruined mine entrance and swarmed onto the fallen troopers. They took away their weapons, then removed their helmets so their heads could be summarily bashed in. The slaves used the butts of the captured pulse rifles, as well as chunks of rock to accomplish these feats.
It was ugly work, but in Jak’s opinion it needed doing. No reason to be squeamish over the fates of coldheart chillers. While the companions didn’t take part in the animalistic bloodletting, they didn’t try to stop it, either.
When it was over, Jak walked over to the water tank and clanged on its side with his rifle butt to attract the mob’s attention.
“Everyone with laser rifle, come,” he said. He waved the armed slaves after him to the mine entrances. “Seal up,” he told them. “Nobody down there again.”
They formed into a firing line. The crisscrossing green beams collapsed the entrances, turning them into waterfalls of molten glass, which buried the battered remains of the troopers.
When this was done to his satisfaction, Jak said, “Everybody in the back truck. Take wounded.”
The slaves did a dimple-by-dimple search. They carried the injured to the truck. Only about fifty were left alive.
Mildred, Dean, Doc and Jak piled into the bench seat in the ore wag’s cab. The front and side windshields were blacked out. There was a dashboard, but no driver controls, no features at all except for a series of buttons arranged in a geometric shape. The only light came from a red bulb in the middle of the head-liner.
“Maybe this thing has to be driven from a battle-suit,” Mildred said. “That plug there could be some kind of coupling.”
“May I suggest that you try that red button in the center?” Doc said. “Red usually indicates something important.”
Mildred pushed it.
Instantly, the wag’s nuke-fueled turbine howled to life. And as that happened, a compartment opened up in front of Mildred’s seat and a joystick popped out.
“That’s great,” Mildred said, “but we’re still driving blind. Looks like the inside of a steel-belted radial in here.”
“Move the stick a little,” Dean suggested.
Mildred reached out for it. As soon as her fingers closed on the knurled plastisteel lever, the windshields cleared. She figured the rest out in a hurry. The button on top of the stick was the engine-speed control. Push the stick left or right for steering. Pull it back for reverse. Push the stick straight forward for brakes.