James Axler – Rat King

that the Gen would be a hard man to usurp, and hoped that Wallace couldn’t in

some way know his plans. The Gen was a true believer, fired by the regs. He had

the fire of generations burning in his veins.

“They will, Sarj. You make them.”

The fat man turned on his heel with an astonishing precision for someone his

size, and waddled off down the corridor.

Murphy looked after him, then turned to the five sec corps personnel he had with

him. They were all trained by him personally, and were the cream of his corps.

Their uniforms were crisp and well laundered, although still carrying some

stains from the chilling they had accomplished on the raids to the outside. They

were well drilled from the manual, and also had a few tricks Murphy had picked

up along the way.

They were the elite he would use when the time came.

But how was he going to break this stalemate?

Chapter Two

Inside the chamber both Doc and Dean had taken advantage of the time bought by

Ryan’s actions to recover fully from the effects of the jump. They stood,

blasters ready for action, to one side of the Armorer.

“John Barrymore,” Doc whispered, “if I may hazard a suggestion. We three are

something of a Trojan horse, and could perhaps be of some use in that manner.”

“No sense there, Doc. Tell me a little more.”

“When the Trojans were at war with—”

“Not the history, Doc. Not now. Just what you mean for us,” the Armorer

interrupted. Like Ryan he was easily irritated when Doc’s lectures appeared at

the worst moments. Like now.

“My apologies,” Doc said with a short bow. “I shall endeavor to explain in

simple terms, in order to save precious moments. If we are in here, and our

opponents have no idea about us, then our companions can act as a decoy by

appearing to surrender—”

“That’s a stupe idea,” Dean said angrily. “Sure way to get everyone chilled. Why

don’t we just jump again?”

J.B. shook his head. “Came across a chamber like this before. The door isn’t the

trigger…maybe an earlier mat-trans, I don’t know. This’ll need triggering from

out there.” He gestured to the outside with the M-4000.

Dean was unconvinced. “I still say Doc’s idea is double stupe.”

“Mebbe not. Not if we’re all quick enough,” the Armorer replied. Raising his

voice slightly, he continued, “Ryan, you hear that?”

“We all heard,” the one-eyed warrior replied. “A slim chance is better than no

chance, and I’ll go bastard crazy unless we break this deadlock.” He turned to

the others. “It’s the only way to draw them—whoever the hell they are—into the

room. But we need to be triple alert here. Scatter as soon as the others

appear.”

He was greeted with three nods of assent.

Ryan called out. “Hey, you out there. How are we going to end this?”

“Only one way,” came the voice from the corridor. “You outsiders throw down your

blasters and we come and get you. No way you can get out, and there’s more of us

than you. Besides, we’re under orders to keep you alive.”

Ryan looked across at Krysty, whose hair was still protectively clinging to her.

“Sounds like shit to me,” he whispered.

“Amen to that,” Mildred added.

Krysty shook her head. “No, I think he’s telling the truth. It’s what comes

after that worries me.” She shook her head as she noted Ryan’s puzzled

expression. “I can’t explain it, lover. It’s just not clear enough.”

“Move or sit?” Jak asked. The inactivity was making him restless. A born hunter

and predator, Jak had the ability to stay still and patient for hours when

tracking and hunting. Patience wasn’t the problem. A decision had been made, and

now he was itching to spring to action.

“Let’s do it.” Ryan threw the Steyr over the top of the upturned desk. He kept

the SIG-Sauer, holstering the blaster, and checked automatically for the panga,

secured in a sheath against his leg. Beside him Krysty threw her blaster out

into the middle of the room. Mildred threw hers with reluctance.

The last to throw out his weapon was Jak, the heavy Python thudding loudly on