“I will tell you, my dear young Cawdor, to what I refer,” Doc stated, the words coming low and harsh, seemingly forced from the back of his throat. “I refer, quite simply, to the manner in which I have been seemingly dismissed from the plans of your father, as though I were a feeble old man who no longer had any worth…or, indeed, any existence.”
“Doc, what the fireblasted hell are you talking about?” Ryan asked, confusion written across his face.
“I refer, my dear boy,” Doc snapped, “to the way in which everyone has been assigned their tasks, and yet I was not even spoken of, let alone considered for the bridgehead party.”
“Doc, you’ve got the disease, and you’ve been hit hardest by it,” Ryan said, trying to keep his voice level and calm. “You are the most vulnerable of all of us. You know that as well as I do, as well as any of us. And by keeping you back I was giving you a chance to fight while maximizing the range of fighting ability in the wag. Mildred is only with us because—”
“Because she is a doctor! I know that—I am not a fool,” Doc raged, quivering with a barely suppressed anger that was quite unlike anything that any of the companions had seen from him before. “But I have a reason to be there, too.”
Mildred studied Doc. He was touchy and oversensitive because of how sick he was, she was sure of that. Certainly, a fit and well Tanner would never overreact in such a manner. But she also knew Doc well enough to know that under the hysteria there was a reason struggling to be heard.
“So tell us the reason, Doc,” she said quietly.
He turned to her. “Madam, my reason is quite plain enough to see for those who have eyes. These appalling specimens of a bloated and distorted humanity, these dregs of filth that chose to live underground and operate in such a cowardly and callous manner, they are the last embodiment and manifestation of the evil and depraved imagination that led to us living in such a wasteland…a wasteland that will be eradicated beyond any further recognition by their sordid little schemes. They are the last in a long line of those who ‘felt they knew best,’ and who would seek to impose their perverted logic upon the rest of us, an unsuspecting populace.
“I have been dragged from the bosom of my family and taken through an experience that no one should have to face, to be finally left here, in a time and world completely alien to me, that is about to be eradicated by their last, perverse turn of the cards.
“If anyone has the right—nay, the imperative—to be in the vanguard against these coldhearted scum, then it is myself. Who but I has the knowledge of these whitecoats and their distorted vision of the Totality Concept? Who else among us has the firsthand experience of their ways? Who else has met with them face-to-face as people, though it pains me to dignify such scum with the same genus as the rest of us. I am close to my own end, with the clock ticking away precious seconds. I have the right, dammit, to attempt an act of vengeance before that most grim of reapers finally casts his shadow upon me, and takes me to his lair.”
There was a silence following Doc’s words. It was an emotion that was exacerbated by his current condition, but nonetheless one that had an undeniable validity.
Finally, Ryan spoke, choosing his words with care. “Doc, none of us can ever understand what you’ve been through. If not for the things we’ve seen, then it would be easy to dismiss it as the ravings of an insane man, as it seemed when we first met. And you’re right—if I was you, I’d want to go in with all blasters blazing and take revenge. But this isn’t just about us. It isn’t just about the Gate, or about Crossroads. It’s about whether we’re going to have a future. So however good your reasons, I can’t let them get in the way of what I know is the right thing to do. And if you stop and think, you know that, too. Look at how ill you are, Doc…”