He channeled his thoughts toward finding an avenue of escape. He was mildly surprised by his lack of a desire to punish Sindri, despite what he had done to them. Mad he probably was, obsessed definitely, but Kane had difficulty casting him into the role of an en-emy. He was an adversary, but he wasn’t like Baron Cobalt, Salvo or even Colonel Thrush.
Sindri radiated a loneliness, a sharp sense of alienation, but also a deep sense of purpose and responsibility.
The bullet car eased into the subterranean chute at the far edge of the compound. Its velocity slowed as it approached the platform. The same quartet of trolls stood there, as if they hadn’t stirred an inch in the past hour.
The vehicle slid to a complete stop, and the passengers disembarked. As Sindri made for the ladder, Grant demanded, “Now what?”
Sindri paused, one foot resting on a rung. Not turning his head, he asked dully, “Now what, indeed?”
“Are you going to let us go?”
Sindri sighed. “We’ll discuss the subject later, at my convenience. Other matters require my attention.”
Grant’s nostrils flared, and Kane saw him coiling his muscles. Then he suddenly relaxed. “Whatever you say.”
They climbed the ladder and into the tunnel. Frog-boy and Elle, still toting her harp, waited there. Sindri said to them, “Escort Mr. Grant and Mr. Kane to the lounge. See that their needs are met. Miss Brigid, I request your company.”
Kane made a move to interpose himself between Sindri and Brigid. “For what?”
“That is our affair,” retorted the little man brood-ingly. “None of yours.”
Kane almost said ” I’ll make it mine ,” but he glimpsed Elle shifting the bottleneck of the harp in his direction.
Quietly Brigid said, “I’ll be all right.”
“Of course you will,” Sindri told her, sounding a bit scandalized. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
Stepping aside, Kane watched Sindri, Brigid and the four transadapts walk down the passage, around a bend in the wall and out of sight. Frog-boy piped, “Let’s go, big ‘uns.”
Grant and Kane marched down the hallway, preceded by Elle and trailed by Frog-boy. Kane asked him, “Do you have a name?”
“‘Course I do,” he replied with a gargoyle sneer. “It’s David. What do you think, I’m some kind of bastard foundling? I know all about my family, going back seven generations to Earth.”
“And what kind of folks are you descended from?” Grant asked.’ ‘People who lived under bridges and took tolls?”
David gazed at him in momentary confusion. “No,” he squeaked. “They were gourmet cooks. I inherited all of their recipe books, that’s why I’m the cook here.”
Considering the quality of their breakfast, Kane didn’t think David was much in the way of a chef, but he decided to keep his comments to himself. The little troll was obviously seething with barely tamped down aggression and hostility for all humanity.
“Were you in the recon party to the redoubt on Earth?” inquired Kane.
David nodded enthusiastically, his lips slipping over his stumpy teeth in a proud grin. “I operated the MD. Turned three of them black big ‘uns to glop.”
“I’m sure you’re very proud,” Grant commented.
“I am, you bet”
“Of course, those black big ‘uns chilled one of you in the process.”
David’s prideful grin turned to an ugly scowl. “Weren’t my fault. Brokk was out of his head, laughin’ and dancin’ around. Too much oxygen, Sindri said.”
“Why aren’t you dancing around?” Kane asked. “The oxygen content is about the same here as in the redoubt.”
David stopped in front of the hatch. “I got used to it. Sindriwhat’s the wordhe acclimated some of us. Most of us ain’t, though, that’s why we stay in our quarters. And that’s why so many of us got kilt in the revolt. Too damn air-drunk to dodge.”
The hatch irised open. Before Grant stepped through, he said, “The humans had weapons, I guess.” He spoke as if he were only the slightest bit interested, bringing up the topic just to be polite.
“Old guns,” David stated. “Not a lot of ammo. Once that ran out, they were easy to kill…and I’ll tell you, did we ever.” He smiled at the memory.