James Axler – Parallax Red Parallax Red

One of these esoteric researches involved matter transmission, relying on a device known as a gateway. Ericson provided him with a thumbnail description of its function, though Stenz didn’t comprehend it to any meaningful degree.

Project Cerberus, a subdivision of the Totality Concept, dealt with the mat-trans gateways. Ericson claimed the project’s purpose was to explore the possibilities of mass teleportation of surplus population.

Stenz couldn’t help but ask, “Teleport them to where?”

Ericson shrugged and spoke of colonizing planets in the solar system without requiring the time and money of the predark space program.

When Stenz asked him if such an undertaking had been accomplished before the nukecaust, Ericson replied bleakly, “I don’t know.”

Despite his growing fear, Stenz had felt a bit sorry for himsorry for a man who seemed to know so much, yet still didn’t know enough.

Regardless of whether the goals of Project Cerberus had been achieved, a gateway unit had been installed in every Totality Concept redoubt. The installation near Washington Hole had been code-named Redoubt Papa.

Stenz’s assignment was to go there. Ericson had provided him with the information of how to gain entrance to the redoubt and check the mat-trans gateway control systems. He left it up to Stenz to handpick the Mags to accompany him on the journey to ground zero.

Because of the unpredictable geothermals in the region, Ericson deemed the trip too risky to make by air. After all, men were easier to replace than Deathbirds. To blunt any objection that Stenz might lodge, Ericson had employed his own personal cliche “A Magistrate must endure.”

Although Ericson didn’t mention the reasons behind the op beyond the fact it sprang from a recent council of the nine barons, Stenz had heard rumors. In fact, the Magistrate Divisions were wellsprings of rumor. Intel officers would pass on scraps of information to a friend, and that friend would pass it on to someone else, like a covert relay race.

When the scraps reached Stenz, he found them too fantastic to believe but too disturbing to ignore. Some months back, a couple of Mags in Cobaltville had fused out, gone renegade and disappeared. Less than two weeks ago, they had returned and kidnapped a high-ranking archivist, allegedly right under the nose of Baron Cobalt. Combining that rumor with his assign-merit, Stenz came to the conclusion that the turncoat Mags knew about the gateways and used them to elude apprehension.

Magistrates had deserted and bolted for the fragile freedom offered by the Outlands before. It rarely happened, but it wasn’t unprecedented. In this instance, Stenz had heard murmurs of the involvement of the Preservationists, a shadowy conspiracy whose alleged objective was to overthrow the baronies.

That could be the only reason for the mission to Redoubt Papa, but Stenz made no mention of this to Ericson. His commander hadn’t said that the information he had imparted was classified, under threat of termination if he ever spoke of it. He didn’t have to say itStenz picked up the implication from the man’s eyes, voice and bearing. As it was, he couldn’t help but wonder how long he would live after completing the op and returning to Sharpeville.

Now Stenz tried to ignore his fear, just like he tried to ignore the stink of the hellzone. He focused his gaze on the great heap of tumbled stone lying at the foot of a slope several hundred yards away. Impatiently he brushed sand particles away from his helmet’s visor.

Presky slowed the Sandcat, steadily applying the brakes. Stenz’s eyes traveled up the huge chunks of rock and concrete, seeking the vanadium sec door Eric-son had briefed him about. It was situated inside a rock-ribbed hollow about halfway up the slope. Clumps of scraggly brush grew around it, masking the depression so effectively it was only by chance he glimpsed the dull reflection of light against the smooth alloy.

Stenz dropped back down into his seat as Presky brought the wag to a complete halt. He glanced at the rad counter on the instrument panel. The glowing scar-let arrow wavered erratically across the scale, ticking uncomfortably close to the red band.

Presky keyed off the engine, and Stenz announced sharply, “Disembark.” His command was transmitted through the helmet transceivers.

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