“We ask the question, and our great-grandchildren hear the answer,” Doc intoned, easing down the hammer and cocking it again. “Indeed, that most certainly does seem like a waste of time and resources.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ryan said, sliding a finger under his eye patch to gently scratch. The salt from the Carolina basin had never fully washed out of the scarred hole, even with their bath in the fresh water river. “Some predark whitecoat tried to talk with another in space. Doesn’t matter now. But this must be the home base for Silas and the blue shirts. Only question is, what is the bastard using the antenna for?”
“Not for talking with alien beings,” J.B. said, snorting rudely, then removing his fedora and wiping the sweat off the inside. “Aliens, ha!”
Above them, the darkening sky rumbled ominously, lightning flashing from cloud to cloud.
“Satellite,” Krysty suggested, brushing back her wild profusion of fiery red hair. The cascade moved about her fingers in a familiar fashion. “Mebbe he found something still in orbit and is trying to using this radio to talk to it.”
“Weapon, recon?” Jak asked, straight to the point.
The woman shrugged.
“Recce would be pointless,” J.B. said. “Got to be a weapon of some kind. Missiles, mebbe.”
“Fabulous, just what the world needs,” Mildred muttered. “Another skydark to finish the job of exterminating humankind.”
“I want to get closer,” Ryan said, starting down the hill. “We need to know what’s going on.” The ground sloped even more sharply as they walked down the hillside, the angle becoming so pronounced the companions stopped walking and slid along the seats of their pants. Any attempt at running would have sent them tumbling head over heels into the valley below. A ridge in the slope dropped five feet straight down onto a gentler angle. A few yards away, a split-rail fence extended across the slope, bare wires resting on glass knobs intertwined with the green wood.
“New,” Jak stated.
Picking up a stick, Dean started forward. “I’ll see if it’s live.”
“Don’t,” Ryan barked, holding out a hand. “If that is electrified, a touch might send off a signal that we’re where. Live wires can be rigged like the proximity fuse of a bomb.”
The boy dropped the stick and backed away.
Going near the fence, Ryan aimed the Steyr at the ville below and adjusted the focus of the telescopic sights to infinity. Pulling out his Navy telescope, J.B. extended the tube to its fullest length and did the same.
There was a quarry to the south, which seemed to have had a major collapse. Tough break for the stone cutters, but of no interest to them. Both men glanced briefly at the slaves hauling boxes to the dish antenna, then scrutinized the stone wall for weak points. The gate was impressive, but the section opposite the quarry was only two courses high.
“Six feet?” J.B. expertly guessed.
Ryan grunted. “Mebbe less. If we need to gain entrance, that’s the doorway we’ll use.”
“Check. Lots of wags near the base of the dish.”
“Might be the garage. Or their bolt-hole.”
“It’s a fort. There’re no windows for ventilation.”
Sweeping the compound, Ryan froze as he spied a LAV-25 parked near the Quonset hut. The metallic structure had bars on the windows, an armored door and was closed off with electric fencing. Whatever was inside was very important to the these people. Inside the fencing, a group of blues with blasters stood rigidly at attention around a tall, almost feline man with silvery hair, a pronounced widow’s peak and bushy eyebrows. Dressed in a white laboratory coat, the thin man was leaning heavily on a wooden cane, obviously favoring his left leg.
“That’s where Doc stabbed him,” J.B. said.
“Wish it had been the heart,” Doc grumbled, staring into the ville, unable to see anything clearly, but imagining every detail.
“It’s Silas,” Ryan agreed, adjusting the focus with fingertip pressure. The circle view through the crosshairs jumped into crystal clarity. “That other fellow must be the chief of the sec men. He’s not saluting, and they appear to be arguing.”
“Silas didn’t exactly tolerate the opinions of others,” Krysty added, squinting at the distant figures. The woman’s vision was greater than most people’s, but this was beyond even her best. “Much less that of his staff.”
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