Jak looked at the walls and ceiling of the passage that stretched in front of him. There was nowhere really to hide.
Except maybe…
“LOOK, DAD, what was I supposed to do?” Dean asked in an exasperated tone that matched his father’s. “I asked Jak if he wanted me to go with him and he said no.”
“I would have expected you to stop him, not offer to go with him,” Ryan rejoined. “Fireblast it to hell, you know that we don’t move in these situation without knowing what each other’s doing. Why do you think we survive like we do? We operate as a team.”
“You were all asleep,” Dean replied, “and Jak was going no matter what. Am I supposed to wake you all for a discussion?”
Ryan glowered at his son. He knew that in the same circumstances he would have offered to go with Jak. Two on a scouting party stood a better chance of returning and reporting than one. Yet they had to keep some kind of discipline together.
“Okay,” he said finally, “it would have been better with two of you out there watching each other’s backs than just Jak on his own. But it would have been better if he’d done it tonight, when we could all be in on it.”
“It’s Jak you need to tell that to,” Dean replied softly.
The two Cawdors—father and son—held steady their gaze, neither willing to step down. The tension between them was heightened by the fact that they had to keep their voices low, only too well aware that it would be easy for anyone passing by to overhear them. Their barely reined-in anger was amplified by this, and their inability to let fly with their anger at each other. Eventually, it was Doc who interjected and broke the deadlock.
“Be that as it may, the main point surely is that Jak has not returned. And the question leading from that must be, why?”
“Only the first of a lot of questions, Doc,” the Armorer said. He moved across to the curtain that partitioned them from the tunnel outside, where there were the sounds of people in transit. He pulled the material to one side, casually checking who was outside their unit, seemingly scratching himself idly and casually acknowledging those passersby who greeted him.
“No sec men watching over us,” he muttered, drawing the curtain fully across and returning to the others.
“Right. First thing we need to do is try and find Jak. Is he in trouble? If not, what has he found that’s stopping him returning?” Mildred sat on the edge of her bed and spoke softly but firmly.
“Why did he feel the need to do it?” Krysty added.
Doc favored her with an indulgent smile. “Surely you, of all people, don’t need to ask such a question. One only has to look at you to see the bugs gnawing at the corners of your consciousness.”
“Very picturesque, Doc,” Mildred murmured.
“He’s right, though,” Krysty admitted. “It’s that creepy Jenna. She’s up to something, I’m sure.”
“But does Alien know about it?” Dean mused. “It could make all the difference.”
“Eventually,” his father added. “Right now, our problem is Jak. And how we find him without arousing suspicion.”
THE LAMPLIGHTER CAME around the sharp bend and shuffled along the tunnel toward the metal door. He paused at each of the small oil lamps that were hung at regular intervals along the walls, lighting each one in turn until the tunnel was lit with a dull yellow glow that reflected off the metal door.
He was still humming to himself as he turned and shuffled back. With the final lamp in this tunnel now safely lit, he had completed the day’s work, and he could retire to his unit and sleep before it was time to eat. His leg was paining him, and he was grateful that this was his only job within the community.
And then it went black…
JAK PICKED HIMSELF up from the floor and looked at the lamplighter. He was unconscious and would remain that way for some time. When he came around, he would have no idea how he had come to pass out, and would probably worry that he had suffered some sort of fit. But that worry would die away as time passed, and there would be nothing to cause alarm either for himself or for the sec men. Which was exactly the way Jak wanted it.