Surprised, Ryan asked, “You know how to operate that thing?”
Krysty smiled wanly. “Bioelectric-energy manipulation, the same principles of drawing on natural electromagnetic currents taught to me by my mother. Like Danielson said, it’s all in knowing how to channel and focus them.”
She glanced into Ryan’s face, and the smile fled her lips. “You’re wondering if I should stay behind with Dean.”
“Something like that.”
“Hell Eyes will just come for me, you know. You said it—we’d only delay the inevitable.”
“But to give you up—”
“No choice,” she said grimly. “I’m just as sick of running as you are. He got into my head and played with me, like I was a sex puppet. Whether he’s a pharaoh, god or mutant, and whether he wants me to bear his children or warm his bed, I’ll provide him with a surprise that will give him nightmares for the rest of his life.”
A smile twisted the corner of Ryan’s mouth. “Pretty tough talk for a sex puppet.”
Krysty leaned the metauh rod against the side of the chariot and came into his arms. She trembled slightly. Lowly, she intoned, “It is. And I mean every word of it.”
Chapter Twelve
Gray dawn stole over Fort Fubar when Ryan, Krysty, Mildred, Doc, J.B. and Jak trooped out to the chariot. Dean stood by the door and watched them pass wordlessly, not responding to Jak ruffling his hair or the kisses bestowed by Mildred and Krysty.
Before he joined the others aboard the vehicle, Ryan said grimly to Danielson, “I expect you to treat my son with hospitality. You don’t have to feed or baby-sit him. The food we’ve left should be enough so you won’t have to share your own larder.”
Danielson spread his hands wide, palms outward. “Cawdor, I don’t mind the company. Long as he behaves himself, we’ll get along fine.”
Ryan favored him with a steely, slit-eyed glare. “It’s not his behavior I’m worried about.”
It took a second for the implications of Ryan’s words to penetrate Danielson’s comprehension. “Don’t be vulgar, Cawdor. I had three kids of my own, remember? ‘Sides, Trader gave me the boot for putting things in my pants, not for taking things out.”
Ryan nodded shortly, glancing at Dean. The boy refused to meet his gaze. The big man turned away, paused, then heeled around, unslinging the Steyr from his shoulder. He walked over to his son, thrusting the rifle into his hands.
“I leave this in your care. You may need it for hunting game.”
Dean ran his fingers lightly over the wood-grain stock and slid the strap over his shoulder, letting the long blaster hang down his back. “Okay.”
Ryan began to move away again, then turned quickly, catching his son’s slim form in a crushing embrace. He pressed his cheek against the top of the boy’s head.
“We’ll be back,” he whispered fiercely.
Dean only nodded, struggling to keep the tears bottled up.
Ryan pushed him away and climbed into the chariot, sitting at the edge of the chassis platform, beside the solar-cell array. J.B. engaged the drive, and with a purring hum and only the slightest of lurches, the vehicle rolled forward. Hands on the guide bar, J.B. steered it around in a wide half circle and out into the open desert. Ryan kept watching Dean, even after his figure was swallowed by the distance and dimness.
Though Krysty sat beside him, she didn’t speak to him. She didn’t need her empathic abilities to know what her one-eyed warrior was feeling.
The afternoon before, J.B. had experimented driving the chariot, testing its limits and capabilities. The battery charged by solar energy retained sufficient energy to keep them on their way, provided he kept the wag’s speed at a moderate level. After a few minutes of scanning the desert floor with his flashlight, he found the tracks cut into the sand the day before by the Incarnates. The two sets of parallel grooves curved ahead. The wind hadn’t had the time to do more than blur the edges of the individual tracks.
He notched up the rate of speed only slightly. Without the solar rays to recharge it, the storage battery would drain fast in the darkness.