James Axler – Stoneface

“Of course not,” Hellstrom responded. “I’ll be in contact with the scouts who enter through the nose. I have an excellent electronic communications system at my disposal.”

“Have comms?” Jak asked.

“Small but exceptionally powerful radios. They can transmit voice or electronic signals over a five-mile radius. Still, there will be a time lag to put the assault force in position, so they’ll need to remain out of the scanning range of the beetles.”

“You stated you were unsure of the range of the beetles,” Doc pointed out. “It could be less than five miles, or as much as ten.”

“Part of the risk, Doctor.”

J.B. shook his head in disapproval. “Since you don’t have a damn germ of information about what’s up there, how do you figure your scouts will survive long enough to signal the assault force? Hell, for all you know, there’s a legion of sec droids just waiting for a stupe to crawl up the nose.”

Hellstrom squinted at him. “Sec droids?”

“Hunter androids,” Ryan answered, “programmed to chill intruders.”

“Take care of any you might meet in the Anthill, and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“How do you expect to get up the nose in the first place?” Krysty asked.

Hellstrom stood. “Come with me.”

They followed the man through the dining area, into the kitchen and to a heavy door sheathed in aluminum. Grasping the lever handle, he popped the latch and swung open the door. Mist and an icy draft wafted over them. Breathing the very cold air was difficult and dried out their mucous membranes. Hellstrom marched into the meat locker, pushing a path through the sides of beef swinging from hooks. He paused by a pair of large metal containers. They were about four feet deep and five feet long, three wide. They resembled utilitarian coffins.

He waited until everyone was clustered around, and he raised the lid of one of the airtight oblong boxes. He waved away the cloud of vapors rising from it. Protected by transparent plastic wrappings, lying on beds of dry ice, were various human organs hearts, livers, a set of lungs, even a pair of eyeballs.

Krysty made a gagging sound and turned away. Even Ryan felt a quiver of nausea.

Smiling, Hellstrom shut the lid. “The other box contains what’s left of the redskins we became acquainted with the other night. Since the freezies are expecting this shipment, you’ll be able to gain entrance into the Anthill with a minimum of fuss.”

“How is anybody supposed to breathe in there?” Jak demanded.

“You’ll be equipped with small oxygen tanks and the proper cold-resistant clothing.”

“How many of these containers do you intend to ship?” Mildred asked.

“Just these two. Normally each container carries four organ trays stacked on top of one another. If two are removed from each box, then we’ve made sufficient room for a pair of you, one to a box.”

Reaching behind the container, Hellstrom made an adjustment and the entire back panel lifted upward, connected by small hinges on the inside of the container.

“There’s a latch on the inside. A quick and easy way to get in and out.” He shivered in the freezing temperature and turned to leave. “Let’s go.”

As they followed him out of the locker, J.B. said, “Only two, you said. Are you planning for the ones who don’t go up the nose to be your assault force?”

Hellstrom waited until everyone had filed out and he had shut the door before answering. “No.”

Ryan exchanged quick, disconcerted glances with his friends, then they fell into step behind Hellstrom as he returned to the dining room.

As the man took his seat, he said, “Obviously, Cawdor, you will be in one of the containers. You’ll be supplied with weapons and whatever ordnance you might need. I’ll leave it up to you to pick your partner.”

“What about rest?” Jak demanded.

“Oh, that’s been covered,” Hellstrom replied airily. “You’ll remain here, in Helskel. As my hostages.”

Ryan and his friends reacted immediately, reaching for blasters that weren’t there. At the same time, Clem and Phil snapped up compact Tec-10 machine pistols that had been hidden beneath their clothing.