“Good. I hate it when you all get too rowdy and I’m trying to talk. I was about to explain to our friends here that the mission on which they will join us is fast approaching. I have had intelligence reports that the trade-off is to be in seven days’ time. So we go on triple red and train hard. The countdown begins here. Enjoy tonight, but wake up tomorrow to work hard. Vengeance will soon be ours.”
With which he stood down from the table to a moment’s silence before the assembled throng, having been given the countdown to that which they desired, erupted into cheering and whooping before resuming their festivities—this time with a renewed sense of purpose.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Krysty remembered the conversation with an appalling clarity, just as she remembered the expression on Correll’s face as he spoke. His eyes glittered, his skin drew tight as the veins on his temples throbbed and the sinews stood out on his neck.
“It could never be too long, Doc,” she said. “I don’t think I could ever wait too long to go into a firefight with him.”
“Fight whether want or not,” Jak said with a shrug. “Fight him, fight Charity…fight someone.”
“Jak’s right,” Ryan agreed. “We’re caught between that rock and that hard place here. If we try to pull out on Correll, we’ll buy the farm right now. But—”
“But seeing the way he is, what kind of suicidal strategies does he have planned?” J.B. finished. Like Ryan, the Armorer had an uneasy feeling that Correll would stop at nothing to achieve his aim, not caring for the lives of his people—or, for that matter, his own.
“Right now we’ve got to go with it,” Ryan stated simply. “We’ve got no option here. But mebbe we can find a way to fill any holes in his plans and get nearer that old tech knowledge.”
“It sure would help,” Dean said, almost to himself. He had learned a few things at the Brody school, from the limited knowledge that was available. Like Mildred, he had an interest in the old comp tech that had led to them investigating the machines in redoubts whenever they had the chance, but those chances didn’t come too often.
Doc eyed Krysty shrewdly. “I fear you are not happy with such a plan,” he murmured to her. “In truth, neither am I. But Ryan is correct. In terms of options, we are severely limited.”
“I know it, Doc,” Krysty answered, “but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Mildred returned with Travis and entered on these words, the redoubt dweller behind her. She took in the situation at a glance, and immediately launched into a detailed report on her patient’s condition, along with praise for Travis’s skills, in order to deflect her companion from asking questions about, or dwelling on, anything he may have overheard as they entered.
Travis was unassuming about the praise he received. “I was only doing what you said,” he said to Mildred before, obviously uncomfortable at being lauded, changing the subject. “Look, we should be getting down to the meeting room. There’s a briefing, and I can’t believe Mr. C. doesn’t want you there. Not after last night.”
So saying, he led them from their room through the corridors to the room where they had eaten the previous evening.
“Nicely done, Millie,” J.B. whispered as they went.
“No more than you should expect, John,” she returned.
When they reached the meeting room, it was to find that the rest of the community was gathered, with Correll at the head, waiting for their arrival. After asking briefly how Cy was doing, Correll turned his attention to a crudely drawn map that was pinned to the wall.
“Now, most of the next six days we’re going to spend shaping up, sharpening those reflexes. There’ll be a training regime and combat tactics to learn. You’re good and sharp, but I want you sharper still. Ryan,” he said, turning to the one-eyed man, “I want you in on this with me. I figure an outside view from someone with your experience could be kinda interesting. And I want J.B. around, as well, ’cause we got to get that armory in the best shape it’s ever been, and you’re the man for that.”