Genesis Echo (Deathlands 25) by James Axler

Doc gave him his best and most sincere smile. “My thanks to you. But I believe I must claim a subsequent engagement, Professor Crichton.”

“Are we going to learn what you do?” Trader called from lower down the table, on the same side as Ryan. “Or do we just stay here for a day or so, sucking up this pastel-colored snot, and then move on?”

“You are outspoken, Trader.” Buford giggled.

“Doesn’t answer my question, does it? You want something from us. What is it? Can we trade? Do we want to trade? You gotta tell us.”

Crichton peered myopically down the room. “Your companion, Cawdor?”

“Yeah?”

“I see why be has been nicknamed Trader. It is most appropriate for him.”

“Sure is.” Ryan laid down his knife and wiped a few crumbs of cheese from his mouth. “And I don’t hear an answer from you or any of your people to the question he just asked.”

“Which was? Refresh my memory, if you would.”

“This institute been running ever since before the birth of Deathlands, is that right?”

The old man looked at him with the steadiness of a sun-warmed python. “Outlanders are rare as the mother lode here,” he said. “We are not used to the direct way some of you have. Here we talk more carefully.”

“Comes back to what Trader asked you,” Ryan insisted. “Why do you want us here? Bearing in mind, like you say, that you don’t allow outsiders into this valley.”

“That can all wait until tomorrow.” David Crichton stood, a little shakily. “Now, I shall go to bed.”

Buford coughed, catching his master’s attention.

“What is it, Ladrow?”

“If the lady is well, we were going to ask permission to spend some experimental time with her. The others could safely be shown some part of our lengthy labors here, couldn’t they?”

“Indeed.”

Ryan tapped on the table with the hilt of his crusted knife. “One thing to make clear. I understand that Krysty’s special powers are of interest. But we come all together, or we don’t come at all. No question of you seeing her while the rest of us tourist around the bits you want us to see. Understand?”

“A direct man, Cawdor.” Crichton laughed, the sound like an owl raking its claws through dry shells. “Unusual in my experience. Very well. If you will all agree, and the lady herself gives consent when she is recovered, then your cooperation in this matter would be appreciated.” He gave them a small ironic bow and began to walk slowly away.

“Hope you all enjoyed the meal,” Buford said perkily, turning to trot at the heels of David Crichton, moving across the long room in a direction that would bring them into the wing that was closed to the visitors. The rest of the scientists filed silently after them, without a word or a glance either to the outlanders or to one another.

“Enjoyed the meal,” Mildred said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Tell their cook not to give up her day job. I’ve eaten better food at my Uncle Josh’s house, and his wife could ruin breakfast cereal.”

“What do you reckon, Ryan?” Trader asked.

Suddenly the door swung open again and David Crichton appeared. “You didn’t see my pair of hounds, did you? Any of you? No? Pity. A lot of work went into” A hand appeared on his shoulder and drew him out of the room again. The door closed with a hydraulic hissing.

Trader grinned. “Few cards short of a deck, ain’t he?”

Ryan didn’t smile. “I’m not sure. Way I see it, Crichton might be playing a totally different game to the rest of us.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“They’ve been living here in this secluded valley for the better part of a hundred years?”

Krysty was making progress on the slow road toward total recovery.

After the meal, once they were back in their own wing, there had been a brief strategy meeting with everyone present. There had been no need for long talks and complex planning. They all agreed that the institute didn’t seem to present any serious threat to them, either individually or collectively, and that they would follow Ryan’s lead the next day.