“Why not? I’d believe it,” J.B. interjected, tacitly acknowledging his lie.
Crow laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Sure, you would. So would some of these boys. But they— and you—weren’t brought up on the legends of this area before skydark.”
J.B. gestured his acknowledgment, then asked, “So why aren’t we chilled? That’d be the obvious thing.”
“If that was the idea, then I tell you, my friend, that you wouldn’t have got within a hundred yards of this site. I would’ve let the sec boys cut you down afore you had the chance to raise your blasters. And let’s face it, you were in no shape.”
“Okay,” J.B. said, rubbing his aching forehead and looking at the ground intently as he tried to focus his spinning vision. “So what do you want from us?”
Crow shrugged. “Don’t want anything from you, really. I meant what I said. I don’t want to have to chill you, and I guess if I’m honest I didn’t like having to trick you. But you’ve got to understand that I know jackshit about you, and I couldn’t let you wane around with all that hardware. And let’s face it, there was no way on this or any other world that you were ever going to give them up without a struggle. By the by, my friend, I take it from the amount of ammo, plas-ex, grens and blaster power that we took from you that you’re the dude who keeps this outfit in working order when it comes to the hardware?”
J.B. nodded. “You could say that.”
“Then you’re a talented man, my friend, and I’d sure as shit hate to be on the opposite side to you in a war. I take it that the one-eyed dude is your leader?”
“Kind of. We don’t call him that, and he doesn’t call him that, but it amounts to the same thing.”
“Then I guess you’re a formidable outfit, and I’d sure as hell hate you to take against us just because I was kind of cautious. I’d be grateful if you’d explain that to him when he comes around.”
“Why don’t you do that?”
“‘Cause I’ve got work to do. That’s why we’re here. I’ll be back later, but in the meantime my friend Petey here will be just outside, and the kind of jack he’s on to do a good job, then he may be just a little trigger-happy if you do something rash. We’ve got a lot to do, and not a lot of time, so the bonuses are good and we can’t afford interference.”
“Just what is it that you are doing here?” the Armorer asked as Crow turned to leave.
The foreman didn’t pause, just said, “I ain’t going to waste breath. I’ll be back here when the day’s work is done, and when you’re all in a fit state to listen. Use the food and water,” he added, gesturing to the barrel and table in the corner of the shelter. “That ain’t drugged, take my word…there’s no need for it, now.”
J.B. watched him go, followed by Petey, who stopped just beyond the last sheet of material covering the shelter. The Armorer then turned his gaze to his still unconscious companions.
It was going to be a long day.
RYAN WAS THE FIRST of the others to come to, and the one-eyed warrior experienced much the same symptoms as the Armorer.
“Fireblast, what the rad-blasted hell hit me?” he complained, raising his head and opening his eye to be greeted by his old friend standing over him.
“A heavy duty trank,” the Armorer replied without humor, “and a hell of a shock if you look for any weapons.” He went on to explain the situation as quickly and concisely as possible, before Ryan had the chance to check for his blasters or his trusty panga and the red mist of fury descended.
“Guess we’ll just have to trust what he says,” Ryan mused when J.B. had finished telling his tale. “I knew there was something about him that set me on edge, even though most of my instincts said to go with him.”
“Figure you were right in the long run,” the Armorer said. “I can see his point.”