“Guess that bastard is going to get what’s coming to him,” J.B. said.
Ryan handed the guard’s laser rifle to Jak. Then he took off his helmet and used an ax point to punch out more ventilation holes. When this was done, he addressed the companions and the remaining crowd. “We’re going to need a distraction up top,” he said. “A major distraction. But you’ve got to wait until J.B. and I get close to the ore truck.” Ryan looked at Mildred and Jak and said, “Don’t use the pulse rifles up there, not yet. Stay inside the mine entrance and keep the weapons in reserve. The invaders might shut down the road if they see that we’ve armed ourselves. We can’t let them do that before J.B. and I reach the camp and disable the manacles. If we’re going to win this fight, we all need to be free to move.”
“How are we going to know when the cuffs are turned off?” Mildred asked him.
“Chances are we aren’t going to be able to signal you,” Ryan said. “You’re just going to have to figure it out by yourselves.”
“We could always employ some of our less fortunate brethren,” Doc suggested. “After all, what is a hand or a foot more or less to a dead man?”
“Plenty of recruits for that duty,” J.B. said.
Jak took hold of Ryan’s arm and pulled him aside. “See?” he said, indicating the foot-deep hollow the laser beam had cut in the wall and the puddle of glass drippings on the floor beneath it.
“Yeah. The melting temperature of the glass must be relatively low. It could work to our advantage against the guards.”
“Indirect fire with the tribarrels?” Mildred asked.
“You got it. Don’t waste your shots on the battle-suits. Their EM shields will protect them. Make the landscape work for you. After we leave, once you and Jak get started out here, the troopers are going to call for help. You can expect enemy reinforcements from Slake City.”
“Road and air,” Jak said.
“Afraid so. You’ve got to capture as many weapons as possible before that happens. Arm yourselves and the other slaves.”
“Understood,” Mildred said.
“Also,” Jak said, bending down and picking up a baseball-sized hunk of glass. He tossed it up and caught it with the same hand. “Nonmetallic. Not bounce off EM shield.”
He turned to the group of slaves and said, “Throw at battlesuits, not use axes.”
“J.B. makes a striking trooper, doesn’t he?” Mildred said.
The Armorer stood there, in full body armor, but still wearing his sweat-stained fedora.
Under his arm, Doc held the matching helmet, which he had already pounded holes through. From behind it looked like a monstrous cheese grater. “I know how attached you are to that well-seasoned headdress, John Barrymore,” the old man said, “but it will never fit inside this bubble.”
“My lucky hat.”
“We know, we know,” Ryan said. “Let Dean borrow it for the time being.”
Reluctantly, J.B. removed it. The pressure of the sweat band had plastered his hair to his skull in a visible ring. “Take good care of it, boy,” he said. “I’m going to be wanting it back in the same condition it was lent.”
Dean accepted the fedora. It was too big for him. As he mashed it down on his head, Dix-style, it flattened the tops of his ears.
“Spitting image,” Mildred said.
“Gimme the frigging helmet,” J.B. growled.
“Your new lucky hat,” Doc said, presenting it with a bow and a flourish.
Once the Armorer’s helmet was screwed down, he and Ryan started for the mine entrance. Some of the milling slaves ran ahead of them, but most lagged behind, as if their deactivated armor still had some protective capability.
By the time they reached the top of the mine entrance’s slope, the insides of their visors were fogged with the heat of their exertion. The condensation limited their vision, but it couldn’t be wiped away without taking off the helmets, which wasn’t an option. They stepped out into the bright glare of day.
Ground Zero’s routine had resumed after last night’s disturbances. A dozen guards stood around the klieg-light perimeter. Two troopers checked the loaded carts as they lined up by the ore wags. Another trooper supervised the loading of ore by hand. One guard manned the water tank, making sure the slaves got only one eight ounce cup for their toil.