They could only wait and see.
The back of the Illuminated wag opened, and the soldiers within emerged. Two came first, running sideways to take cover in the doorways and lay down a covering fire with their laser blasters. They were followed by three groups of two: eight fighters in all.
The companions returned the fire and cut down two of the Illuminated Ones before they had even reached cover, the laser fire cutting across their bodies and making their one-piece suits smoke as the material smoldered in the heat. The lack of sound—their screams muffled and contained within their helmets— made their chilling an uncanny sight, as they seemed merely to crumple to the dirt.
The remaining six found themselves clumped together in two doorways, with little cover for all of them, and no way of safely firing at the companions.
They were so hopelessly inept that for one moment Ryan hoped that they would surrender. Chilling them would be like chilling defenseless children, and if they lived then at least he stood a chance of learning something from them about the redoubt.
But any such hope was fleeting. They may be tactically inept and have no experience of combat, but their courage couldn’t, at the moment of truth, be doubted. Two of the soldiers fell flat, laying down a covering fire while the others charged forward, headed for the alleys where the companions were firing from cover. They kept firing as they ran, the laser beams raking the head of the alley. Their hope was that they could stop the companions from firing by making it too hard to take aim, and perhaps hit some of them by chance. It was an insane, suicidal tactic, and they were picked off with ease. The combat was over in a matter of seconds, and the Illuminated Ones lay scattered across the road, their chilled corpses zigzagged by lines of burned flesh and charred cloth where the laser blasts had claimed them.
The companions emerged from cover and surveyed the charnel house before them.
“They did not have a chance, really, did they?” Doc asked, a tinge of sadness in his voice.
“Shouldn’t feel sorry for them,” Mildred said sharply. “Look how ill you are, Doc—they’re part of the problem.”
“Ah, but is it really that simple?” the old man mused. “Consider, dear Doctor—they have spent several generations underground being fed a doctrine that leads them to act as they do. Granted, that is not our concern. But can we not spare the briefest of thoughts? After all, if we had been born where they were, would we be any different?”
“Probably not,” Ryan replied before Mildred could answer. “But the harsh truth is that it’s not our problem.”
Any further reflection was stopped by the arrival of Gloria, with Tammy close behind.
“The other wag escaped,” Gloria said without preamble.
“We tried, but couldn’t do any damage to stop it,” Tammy added.
Ryan nodded. “It’s okay. This one was already damaged enough to slow it when it got this far…gave us a better chance. And we only need one, if we act quickly.”
Without further explanation, Ryan strode past the Gate warriors and the chilled Illuminated Ones, and climbed into the back of the wag. J.B. followed him, and found the one-eyed man examining the comps and control panel of the wag.
“What do you reckon, J.B.?” Ryan asked without turning.
“Three tires out—that should be easy to fix if we raid some ville wags for spares,” the Armorer commented. “Some damage underneath by the look of the smoke—mebbe electrics, as the main chassis system seemed to be working okay. Give that a check. If it was the electrics, then mebbe the comps don’t work.”
“Let’s see,” Ryan said, flicking a switch. The console lit up. “They’ve got an emergency system, at least. Radio’s shot to shit, though,” he added, attempting to get some life out of it.
“That’s good. No way of telling who’s in the wag, then.”
Ryan agreed. “Otherwise, it looks like an ordinary wag. As long as there’s a stick shift, a wheel and some pedals, we can ignore the rest of the comp shit.” He stood back, thought for a moment, then nodded decisively. “Yeah, it’ll do.”