If it could be said that anyone sharing those vocal characteristics would also share a similar outlook, then Mildred had a suspicion that the Gate warriors, companions and Crossroads people were in for big trouble.
The voice continued. “You will all discard your weapons. Leave them on the floor of the chamber. Please do not think that you can conceal anything from us, as we will be monitoring you most closely. You have thirty seconds in which to do this.”
The speakers went silent. There was a mutter of confusion and incomprehension from the floor, arguments between those who wished to discard and those who were determined to hang on to their weapons. The Gate looked to their queen for an answer.
“Hold on to them, see what these coldheart bastards do next,” she yelled. Catching Ryan’s eye, she could see that he didn’t agree, but she was defiant.
The thirty seconds elapsed, and another shower of icy water rained on them. It lasted for exactly the same amount of time as that given to them for discarding the weapons. Ryan checked on his wrist chron. And when the cold, shivering and demoralized people had welcomed the brief respite, the voice came again.
“Really, I would have expected a little more intelligence from at least some of you.”
There was a pause, and Mildred exchanged a puzzled glance with Krysty. It seemed as though the voice were intimating at a certain knowledge. Was this possible?
“There is no escape, and neither will there be a respite. Please put your weapons down within the next thirty seconds, or we will repeat the process. Frankly, we have no concern whether you live or die, but I think that perhaps you may care about the matter.”
Gloria looked at Ryan. The one-eyed man nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Let’s see what they want. No point chilling everyone now,” he called to her.
Gloria assented. “Throw down your weapons—all of you,” she cried, barely able to keep the bitter note of defeat from her voice.
All around the companions, people shed their hardware, blasters and knives. Doc kept hold of his silver lion’s-head swordstick, but discarded the LeMat. Jak made a show of throwing down his .357 Magnum Colt Python. The others all discarded their blasters, Ryan and J.B. adding their panga and Tekna knife respectively.
There was a pause as the last ringing sound of metal on concrete died away. Finally, the voice from the ob port sounded again, this time with a faintly sardonic air that caused a shiver to run down Mildred’s spine, impressing on her all that she had previously thought.
“Good. So glad that you finally saw sense. You will all stay where you are, with the exception of the seven people who travel together—the one-eyed man, the albino, the old man, the black woman, the redhead, the boy and the one with glasses. You know who I mean. You will please make your way toward the exit door directly beneath this port.”
The companions exchanged a series of looks that varied from confused to concerned: given time to reflect, it would be easy to see that even a cursory glance at the action that had taken place at this and the previous Illuminated Ones’ redoubt would have separated them as a force from the Gate tribe and the Crossroads newcomers. So to be singled out wasn’t that surprising. However, it suggested that the Illuminated Ones had something particular in mind for the companions.
But what?
“Come now, do not try our patience,” the voice snapped as they hesitated. “If you do not move, then the water will be turned on once more.”
With a shrug, Ryan began to move toward the door indicated. The rest of the companions followed, moving through a crowd that parted before them. Jak stopped to hug Gloria. To the viewers above it would seem to be a touching, if uncharacteristic, farewell. But as he leaned in close and held the Gate queen, Jak whispered in her ear, “Stay alert. Look for faintest chance, from them or us. Not give up.”
“I won’t, sweets,” Gloria replied softly. She smiled crookedly as Jak pulled away, and winked at him.