“Yes. I’ve heard of those.”
But Doggins was not listening. He was staring down into the case with a gentle, almost meditative expression. Then he reached down and brought out the weapon. To Niall, it looked disappointingly small, hardly more than a toy. It was black, little more than a foot long, with a short wooden butt and a short, heavily reinforced barrel. Below the barrel there was a curved hand grip.
Doggins brought it back to his seat and examined it slowly and carefully; he handled it as if it were a newborn baby.
Niall asked: “Haven’t you ever seen one before?”
“Not in good working order.”
The others were waiting inside the door. “Come here.” Doggins beckoned. “I’ve something to show you.” He allowed the weapon to swing upside down by its shoulder strap. “You wouldn’t think this was the deadliest weapon ever invented, would you?”
It was obvious they had never seen a Reaper before. Milo asked: “Deadlier than the hydrogen bomb?”
“Far deadlier. Nobody dared to use the hydrogen bomb because it was too indiscriminate. This little thing could wipe out an individual or a whole army.”
Niall asked: “Is it more powerful than your blaster?”
“Far more. And far more accurate. The trouble with the blaster is that the beam spreads out, so its useless at a range of more than forty yards. This thing has a range of two miles.”
Niall asked dubiously: “Isn’t that too powerful?”
“No, because it’s adjustable. This lever can increase or decrease its range. Set it on nought and it won’t fire at all. Set it on one, and it has a range of fifty feet. And so on up to ten. If you set it on ten when you want to knock down a wall, you’ll end up destroying half the city.” He turned to Mostig’s assistant. “Ulic, I want you to hand one out to everybody. Then I want you all to spend a few minutes familiarising yourselves with the adjustable control. And don’t forget — never — and I mean never — point it at another man unless you mean to kill him.”
The word “kill” produced in Niall a curious inner contraction, as if some cold wind had caused his heart to shrink. It was not the word itself, but the way Doggins had said it — as if killing were some normal and perfectly legitimate activity.
Milo handed him a Reaper. It was surprisingly heavy for its size — at least fourteen pounds — and most of this weight seemed to be concentrated in the swollen cylindrical chamber immediately above the trigger guard. Its weight made it natural to hold it with the butt pressed into the muscles above the hip, the left hand clenched tightly around the projection below the barrel. As he held it in this position, Niall experienced a sensation that puzzled and disturbed him. It was a sense of familiarity, as if he had been handling weapons all his life.
Doggins, meanwhile, had been exploring the other aisles of the storeroom. He had found a crowbar and was forcing open a long wooden packing case. This proved to contain an eight-foot metal tube and a number of bomb-like projectiles. Doggins chuckled with satisfaction as he tossed one of these up and down in his hand.
“Look at this little beauty.”
“What is it?”
Doggins pointed at the tube. “That’s a Brodsky Battering Ram, and it’s the greatest anti-tank weapon ever made. It’s deadly accurate up to a range of a mile.” He looked fondly at the projectile. “This thing could knock a hole in a ten-foot wall.”
Suddenly, Niall knew what had disturbed him a few minutes before. It was the fact that the Reaper gave him a sensation of control and power. It was a completely negative power — since the weapon had no purpose but destruction — yet it was strangely satisfying nevertheless. The Reaper concentrated his will in exactly the same manner as the thought mirror.
Milo approached them. “What are these?” He was holding out a handful of shining metal spheres, each one hardly more than an inch in diameter.
“Fire bombs. How many are there?”
“A dozen cases.”
“Good. Make sure everybody fills his pockets with them. Then get ready to leave. It’s time we got out of here.” He replaced the lid on the packing case.
Niall said: “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“When we set out this evening, were you hoping to find Reapers?”
“Of course.”
“Then what made you change your mind?”
“About what?”
“About fighting the spiders.”
Doggins shook his head. “Let’s get one thing clear. I don’t intend to fight the spiders.” He hefted the Reaper in his hand. “This isn’t for fighting. It’s for bargaining.”
“About what?”
“Freedom.”
“But I thought. . .”
Doggins interrupted him. “Freedom from interference. Why do you suppose we use oil lamps instead of electric torches? Why do you think I light the damn things with a tinder box instead of matches? Because of the spiders.”
“I didn’t think they had any control over the beetles.”
“It’s in the Peace Treaty: ‘No servant of the beetles shall be allowed to use or construct a machine.’ So no dynamos, no engines, no computers — not even a clock. And it’s been like that for more than two hundred years.”
“And what would they do if you broke the agreement?”
“Go to war, I suppose. And this time they’d make sure they destroyed us.”
“Could they destroy you?”
“Easily. When they made the treaty, there were about the same number of beetles as spiders. Now the spiders outnumber beetles by a thousand to one.” He grinned and patted the Reaper. “But with this thing, we outnumber the spiders by a thousand to one.”
Milo approached and saluted. “We’re all ready, sir.”
“Right. Take them up on to the barrack square and wait for me.”
Niall asked: “What would happen if the spiders found this place?”
“It wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t be able to get in.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate Kazak.”
“I don’t.” They had reached the door. “Help me move these boxes.”
Together, Niall and Doggins stacked the red explosives cases inside the door where they had found them. When the last one was in place, Doggins closed the massive door and twisted the dial of the combination lock. Then he struck the dial with the crowbar until it lay smashed on the floor.
“There. Even Kazak shouldn’t be able to open that. And if he does, he may regret it.”
As they mounted the concrete steps, Doggins stopped and placed his hand on Niall’s arm.
“There’s something I want to say to you.”
“Yes?”
“Just — thanks for helping me to find this place. Perhaps I’ll be able to do you a good turn one of these days.”
Niall smiled. “You already have.”
Outside it was unexpectedly dark. The wind had risen and a black raincloud obscured the moon. The tiny flames of the oil lamps only seemed to increase the surrounding blackness. Doggins cursed under his breath.
“I don’t like this. It means the spiders can see us and we can’t see them.
“Then let’s wait until daylight.”
Doggins shook his head; Niall could sense his indecision. “I don’t want to stay here a minute longer than I have to.”
Someone asked: “What are we going to do with poor Cyprian?”
“We’ll have to leave him where he is.”
“Couldn’t we find somewhere to bury him?”
Doggins shrugged. “All right. Bring him with us.”
Four of them picked up the body, two holding the arms and two the legs. Doggins led them to the rear gate. He took the blaster from his pocket.
“I want to show you something. Watch.”
He pointed the blaster at the centre of the metal door and pulled the trigger. As the thread of blue lightning flickered from the barrel, the air filled with the smell of heated metal; the gate turned red, then white hot. But, to Niall’s surprise, it showed no sign of melting. Doggins lowered the blaster.
“It’s a special blaster-proof metal called lattrix — designed to stop terrorists. The wall’s made of a similar material. Now watch.”
He adjusted the lever on the Reaper, then pointed it at the gate. The thin blue beam that emerged from the barrel was like an illuminated glass rod. Where it struck the gate, a small hole appeared in the metal. Casually, Doggins raised the Reaper; it made a tiny blue flame as it burnt and left a thin, straight line behind it. Within a few seconds, Doggins had sliced a large section out of the gate; it fell outward with a dull crash that emphasised its weight. Niall could see that the metal was six inches thick.
Doggins said: “Put the lamps out and follow me. Keep your guns at the ready, but don’t fire unless I give the order.”
He led the way. As Niall passed through the aperture in the gate, he ran his finger over the metal; it was cold to the touch.