Then the fiery lance of a LAW streaked in from atop the Citadel, closely followed by the four whispering black birds of the HAFLA, the deadly missiles leaving contrails in the foggy air. The volley became a barrage, a fusillade, a bombardment.
The destruction seemed to go on forever, the lake of smoke swamping over the guards high on the stone wall. No longer able to see where to point their weapons, the sec men held their breath and waited, weapons at the ready. Nothing seemed to be moving in the dense cloud of discharge fumes. The gray smoke was slowly thinning, but it would take minutes before they would know the results of their trap.
STEPPING OVER the bleeding bodies of men and dogs, Ryan walked to Leviathan and rapped on the side of the tank with the butt of his rifle. “It’s over,” he announced loudly. “Come out and finish putting the tires back on.”
Doc bent and spoke to the people huddled under the vehicle. “You will not be harmed,” he rumbled, using a polite, but firm tone. “We are on your side. Just fix the tank, then you can run away if you wish.”
Several of the cowering slaves remained where they were, unsure of what to do. However, the rest crawled out from under the vehicle and slowly started to assemble the wheels, constantly glancing over their shoulders at the armed people standing around them. Reloading her pistol, Krysty surveyed the garage with a practiced eye, searching for any more possible trouble spots, when she stopped and carefully walked over to a dead man. The ground was coated with brass cartridges from the Uzi, and walking was a tricky matter.
“Will you look at this,” she stated, and took the revolver from his warm hand. “I’ll be damned.”
“Found something?” Mildred asked, pocketing her spent shells and loading in fresh rounds.
The redhead nodded. “This is the exact same type of blaster I lost in the city. Smith & Wesson Model 640, .38-caliber revolver, nickel-plated, adjustable sights, J style frame, combat trigger.” She searched the man for bullets, finding the unexpected bounty of an untouched box. Then she solemnly laid the Ruger on his gaping chest in exchange.
“Thank you,” Krysty said, hefting the revolver. “The balance is perfect, not nose heavy like that blasted Ruger.”
“Dirty,” Jak said, wrinkling his nose as if the weapon smelled.
Krysty smiled. “So it’ll take me a while to clean properly. Worth it. Fits in my palm like it belongs there.”
“At last your arm is complete,” Doc muttered sardonically, wiping some blood off his swordstick. “My compliments, Sweeney, on the good fortune.”
Asking a silent question, Krysty looked at Mildred, who shrugged in response. “I think it’s from an old play,” she said.
“I’m going to check inside,” J.B. said, walking among the dead. “Make sure everything is working.”
“Watch for traps,” Ryan warned, never taking his vision off the slaves. “You there, tighten the nut more.”
The slave nodded and did as requested. “Fellow slaves, hear me!” Shard said, sitting against a packing crate, bullet boles forming a pattern around him in the battered wooden slats. “When you are done, you can all follow us out of here to freedom. These aren’t the new masters, but your liberators!”
“The guards also have blaslers,” a brave soul pointed out.
Shard laughed in scorn. “And who would dare to try and stop Leviathan, killer of the Beast!”
The workers whispered that among themselves like a litany and the work proceeded faster.
“How many tires do we need to move?” Dean asked, joining his father.
Ryan scowled. “At least six. But we better have eight, though, just to be safe. The rest we can throw in back and put on when we get the chance.”
Father and son watched the work proceed, and the lug nuts of the eighth tire were being tightened when J.B. popped into view from the rear doors of Leviathan and whistled sharply. The companions hurried over curiously.
As the interior of the tank came into view they gasped in shock. The inside of the war machine was completely different. Velvet drapes lined the armored walls, hiding the lockers and supply racks. The floor was cushioned with a soft carpet, the chairs more resembled red velvet thrones and red tassels dangled from damn near everything.