“Both,” he said, blowing a ring of blue smoke towards the ceiling. “I have imprisoned you since I do not wish to be attacked-nor do I wish to have anyone or anything present while we talk.” He touched a button on his desk and looked at pulsing purple light. “And now we are secure against eavesdropping.”
“Going to tell us who all you guys are, what you are doing here and that sort of thing?” I asked.
“Assuredly. We are The Survivalists.”
“I think I heard a reference to your mob before.”
“Undoubtedly. During the years of the Breakdown there were a number of groups with that name. We are the only ones who deserve it since we are the only ones who survive.”
“Survivalists,” Floyd said, and went on as though reading from a book. “Groups who believed in the inevitability of the coming war, as well as the inability of their own governments to protect them, who then withdrew from society into underground bunkers equipped with food, water, ammunition and supplies adequate to survive any catastrophe. None survive.”
“Very good-you are quoting from . . . ?”
“Handbook of Historical Nuts, Cults and Saviors.”
“Very good-except for the title and the last line. We survived.”
“A little too well,” I said. “The Breakdown Wars are long gone and the galaxy is at peace now.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Just don’t tell anyone else here.”
“Why not? But let me guess. You want to keep them stupid and in line because you are onto a very good thing. For as long as there is war or the threat of war those in charge tend to stay in charge. Which, of course, is you.”
“An excellent summation, Jim. Though there are those who are unhappy with the state of things . . .”
“We’ve met them. Youngsters who perhaps aren’t too happy with the militaristic status quo and war forever. Who perhaps prefer a future in the bosom of their families. That is assuming you do have families?”
“Of course, safe and secure in the residential caverns. We guard them and protect them-”
“As well as having a generally good time playing soldier and bossing everybody about.”
“Your criticism is becoming tiring.”
He looked quizzically at his cigar ash, then tapped it into the ashtray before him. Which was made from a shell casing of course. Something black stirred at the very edge of my vision but I made no move to look that way. It was about time Fido made an appearance.
“So what do you want us for?” Floyd asked.
“I thought that was obvious. I want to find out who you are and how much you know about us.”
There was a quick movement from under the table to my chair, out of The Commander’s line of sight. The thing must have then climbed the back of my chair because Aida’s voice whispered in my ear.
“I have done a voice analysis of a recording I made during the interrupted meeting. I stripped away the interference of the voice occulter and now know who the speaker who called himself Alphamega is . . .”
“I already know,” I said.
“Know what?” The Commander said. “What are you saying?”
“Sorry, just speaking my thoughts aloud. My thoughts being that you are playing some kind of complicated game, aren’t you? You called me by name-and we have never been introduced. Of course if you were present at the meeting of the young dissidents you would know who I was. And now I know who you are.”
I smiled and let the silence stretch before I spoke.
“The Commander-or Alphamega-which name do you prefer? Since you are both of them rolled into one.”
CHAPTER 25
I can kill you-quite quickly,” The Commander said coldly and calmly. But at the same time he was stubbing and crunching his cigar out in a most agitated manner.
“Temper, temper,” I said. “Since you appear to be in charge of both sides in this internal conflict, and you obviously got us here for a reason-why don’t you just tell us all about it?”
He was scowling now, angry and dangerous. As my mother always said-why was her memory still popping up?-you catch more porcuswine with honey than you do with vinegar. Gently, gently.