James Axler – Stoneface

“Or,” J.B. offered grimly, “he transformed her into a plant.”

“Plant?” Jak’s face was puzzled. “What kind plant?”

“A spy,” Krysty clarified, walking closer to her. “She was planted here to keep a watch on us, to report on any escape plans.”

Fleur spoke, her voice hushed, like the rustle of coarse cloth. “I’m a prisoner, just like you. I was betrayed.”

“Like you betrayed the Indians who rescued you from slavers?” Krysty snapped. “It’s no sin to betray a betrayer.”

“Or to kill a killer,” J.B. said, a hint of menace entering his voice.

“Is that what you want to do?” Fleur asked calmly.

“Can you think of any reason why we shouldn’t?” Krysty demanded. “You tried to kill Ryan. Twice, in fact.”

Fleur didn’t respond. She merely stood and stared. She was listless, as though her spirit had been more than broken. It had been stolen from her.

Shuddering, Jak turned away from the woman. “Dead already. Soul dead.”

“Is that true, young lady?” Doc asked. He twisted the handle of his cane and unsheathed the blade.

Fleur’s eye flicked toward him, but she didn’t react.

“For if it is,” Doc continued, “then you should have no objection to your material shell joining your astral self in the great ether. However, if a spark of vitality still resides within your soul, we may offer you a way to fan that spark into a full blaze.”

Interest stirred faintly in her blue eye. “How?”

Plunging the sword into the earthen floor, Doc took note of how deeply it cut. “I have,” he announced solemnly, “an idea.”

J.B. cast his eyes ceilingward and groaned. “I was afraid you would.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

The chamber was immense, nearly the size of the storage area above them, but built in an unusual cylindrical design. It was shaped like a hollow cone, with the apex funneling up overhead.

The chamber was tri-level, with two floors above their position. Banks of consoles ran the length of each. Brilliant overhead lights gleamed on the alloyed handrails, the glass-covered panels and meters. Chairs were attached to slideways so the console operators could be ferried from panel to panel. A quick count told Ryan that each level contained a dozen chairs. But none of the chairs was occupied.

Beetles flitted over the consoles, extensor cables manipulating dials, buttons and switches. Ryan quickly handed Mildred the ID badge he had taken from Doug, but none of the gadgets paid any notice to them.

Six chrome-capped glass tubes, each one ten feet long and three feet around, were positioned at equidistant points on the top level of the cone-shaped chamber. The tubes were filled with a churning, bubbling green liquid, flexible metal conduits extending from their tops and bottoms. The conduits extended from the bases of the tubes and disappeared into sleeve sockets on the deck.

It was very cold in the room, well below freezing. The frigid wind roared up from beneath, where the chamber’s diameter was at its widest. Gingerly Mildred and Ryan peered over a handrail. Far below, perhaps a hundred feet, was a dark metal framework, surrounding six gargantuan fan units. Four of them were spinning, two were not, and Ryan estimated that the three fan blades of each unit were close to twenty feet long and ten wide.

Surveying the upper levels, they saw twelve open shaftways like the one they had used to reach the chamber.

Shivering and hugging himself, Ryan asked, “What the hell is this place?” The roar of the wind was so loud, be had to practically shout his question into Mildred’s ear.

“I’m not sure,” she shouted back. “An air circulation station, but it can’t be the only one in an installation this size.”

Eyeing the hovering beetles, Ryan said, “They haven’t noticed us.”

“They’re probably not supposed to. More than likely their sole program is to maintain the operations.”

“Why are those things doing it, since this place was designed for humans?”

“Lack of manpower to spare, easier to automate, I can’t say.”

Taking another look at the fan units below, Ryan said, “A couple of grens might knock those out, start warming this place up.”

Mildred shook her head and gestured to the tubes of bubbling liquid. “That wind is almost gale force. Unless you find something to weigh down the grens, they’ll probably be blown right back up here. Besides, those containers of coolant must be pumped into a conversion chamber below the fans. If we want to start a thaw, we need to prevent the flow of coolant.”