Crater Lake. JAMES AXLER

The nearest of the encircling group, with a small crimson flash on the carapace of its helmet, finally spoke. The voice was flat and unaccented, lacking any kind of emotion, or humanity. Each word was measured and weighed before being delivered. Each word stood on its own and seemed more the product of a machine than a man.

“Come with us. Hostile reactions will be met with ultimate force.”

Finnegan looked across at Ryan. “Ultimate force? Do that mean what I think it mean?”

“It do,” Ryan replied. “Let’s go.”

The sec guards herded their six prisoners into a tight circle, allowing them to pick up all their arms and possessions, which greatly surprised Ryan. He walked with Krysty, looking at the curious creatures that had captured them.

“What d’you figure?” he whispered.

“Andies?”

Ryan shook his head. He’d seen androids, and read about them, but he knew that nobody around the Deathlands had the skill to make humanoid robots that truly worked.

“Could be adapted muties.”

“Retards?”

“Mebbe, lover, with some kinda electronic voice activators.”

The figure with the red stripe on its helmet turned, its blank visor angled toward Ryan and the girl. “Do not speak with no permission to speak.”

At first they walked parallel to the crumbling blacktop that circled Crater Lake, then they were led down an increasingly steep slope toward the water. The path was extremely treacherous and slippery, but the guards picked their way at high speed, without a single slip.

“Ultrascope enhancers in the visors,” J.B. whispered to Ryan.

The moon was hidden by the surrounding trees as they drew nearer to the lake, and several times one or another of Ryan’s group stumbled and slipped. Each time it happened the sec patrol stopped and watched. It was a singu lar and creepy experience, since they all stopped at precisely the same millisecond.

Eventually they had all picked their way between the trees and boulders to the water’s edge, where five dark green inflatable boats waited. It struck Ryan as a further oddity that not one of the guards had been left behind with the boats. It showed an amazing confidence in their control over the area. Whatever had sent out the patrol clearly ruled the region with total power. Ryan wondered what kind of baron could run a ville like that.

The boats had small, compact engines that pushed them through the water at an incredible rate in total silence. Apart from the bubbling of the water as it churned under their bows, they could hear nothing.

“Heading for island,” Jak said, his white hair almost luminous in the fading moonlight.

A fanciful person might have been tempted to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming this bizarre experience. Ryan trusted himself and his own reflexes. However strange and new things seemed, he knew they had to have an explanation. His main concern was to watch and learn as much as he could. As far as he could judge, they were not being threatened, just so long as they did what they were told. The fact that they’d been allowed to keep their weapons was a reassuring sign.

They landed with a faint jarring sound, and several of the guards climbed out and waited for their captives. Their movements were peculiar. Neither fluid nor clumsy, yet not quite human either. The moon had edged behind a bank of scudding cloud, and it was very dark. Ryan could make out a concrete slope that rose thirty yards to a large doorway concealed beneath an overhang of jagged rock. He guessed that it would be difficult to spot even in daylight. One of the green inflatables was hauled up out of the water, and he noticed to his surprise that it had wheels slung beneath it, making it also usable as a road vehicle.

“Follow yellow lines strip to skin leave clothes weapons check all fresh clothes will be issued. Do you read?”

Ryan nodded. “Yes, we read you.” He turned to the others. “We got coldcocked by these mutie bastards back there. No point in trying to break for it. Do what they say and try and keep your eyes and ears on overdrive.”

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