Amanda took a stance. “And what if the slaves use this opportunity to start a rebellion?”
He went back to studying the table. “The guards will slaughter them.”
“While fighting the Beast at the same time?”
Richard moved more cannon to the front gates. “Then we’ll use the gas.”
“Of course. But later on-”
“Not later, now. Right now.”
She blanched. “What?”
“I will immediately release the sleep gas outside the stone wall,” he stated. “The slaves outside will fall asleep, but that doesn’t matter. They won’t be assisting in the defense of the ville anyway.”
“Their bodies will line the roads,” she said, thinking aloud. “Perhaps slow the advance of the Beast. Legend says it won’t kill if you surrender. This could work…. No, it won’t. Have you forgotten the guards with the Vulcan? If they fall asleep, they can’t operate the gun!”
“I gave them the antidote,” Richard said, shifting the position of an oversized brass cartridge outside the eastern section of the stone wall.
“Before this trouble began?”
“Yes. Anticipation is the cornerstone of victory.”
Amanda watched her brother for a long time before speaking. “Most wise,” she purred, pressing her soft body against him. “Father would be proud.”
Richard moved another piece inside the Citadel and smiled briefly. “How nice of you to say so, my sweet sister.”
STAYING IN THE SHADOWS of a tack shop, Ryan and the companions watched the growing bedlam on the streets of Novaville, waiting for an opportunity to move unnoticed. But it wasn’t forthcoming. Slaves dashed about in every conceivable stage of dress.
People were screaming. A glass window was smashed. Far off, a cannon boomed and a bell started to clang. A coal oil lantern was smashed, setting a cottage on fire. At the smell of the smoke, horses stampeded from a corral. A group of rushing sec men turned a corner, and a gang of prisoners in chains jumped them, using the iron links to strangle the guards to death. Fistfights were everywhere, blasters spoke constantly and a weeping woman with a bullwhip was lashing at anybody near her.
Crouched under a window, Ryan frowned at the madness. “This is getting worse,” he observed. “Not slowing down.”
“Good,” Jak drawled, peeking out the door crack. “Hides us from heirs.”
“Unless a random slug blows off your head,” Krysty pointed out. “But Ryan’s right. This has become a full-blown rebellion, not just a simple uprising.”
“Lisa and her people must be doing their job,”
Mildred said, pouring some water from a canteen into her hand and then rubbing it on Shard’s face. “Whoever the invaders are, they must be giving the sec men a hard fight.”
“D-death to the heirs…” Shard whispered, sitting limply in a wooden chair.
“The ward won’t allow this to go on much longer,” Ryan said, pulling the vial from his pocket.
He thumbed off the stopper and took a sip of the milky fluid. It tasted sweet at first, then burned its way down his throat like undercooked moonshine whiskey. Trying not to gag, he passed it around and everybody forced themselves to take a sip.
“Ghastly,” Doc rumbled. The last in line, he tossed away the empty vial. “If that does not kill us, nothing will.”
“Agreed,” Ryan scowled, scouring his mouth with his tongue. He wanted to hawk and spit so bad it was an ache within him, but he knew better than to waste a single drop of the sleep gas antidote. “So let’s move. And leave the crossbows here. We don’t need silence anymore.”
Krysty, Dean and Mildred divested themselves of the cumbersome weapons along with the quivers of arrows. Then, pushing open the door with the barrel of his Steyr, Ryan took the point. The rest followed him into the street, Doc with Shard in his arms, J.B. and Mildred giving them protective cover, At the sight of the weapons, dashing slaves arched around them, some reversing course and running away in the other direction.
Then a ragged man charged into view carrying a melted rifle in a blistered hand. “The Beast is here!” he shouted, waving the steaming blaster stub. “It’s at the wall! Run for your lives! The Beast is here!”