I drank until I was sloshing, then sipped a little bit more, handed the glass weakly back.
“Knocked myself out. Be a good buddy and get my pack. I got some vitamin pills there should pick me up.” When he handed me the pack I clicked out a couple of Blast-offs, superuppers, and swallowed one. “Vitamins, good for you,” I said as I passed one over. Floyd was a little faster off the mental mark lately and did not ask any questions.
Our timing was pretty good. The wave of good feeling and energy was washing away my almost-terminal fatigue when Veldi threw open the door.
“On your feet!” he called out. I did not move.
“Veldi,” I said. “Old and trusted servant. No soft knock? No sweet tones . . .”
“The word is out that you Stainless Steel Rats are just plain rats. Troublemakers. Just get going.”
There was the quick thud-thud of marching feet and Sergeant Ljotur came in with an armed squad of soldiers. Armed with wicked-looking spears with gleaming points and barbed shafts.
“You are to come with me!” he ordered. He did not look happy about it.
“No longer a musical fan, Ljotur?” I said, climbing slowly to my feet.
“I have orders.” Orders that he obviously did not like. Which of course he would obey since independent thought had never been encouraged in the military. Floyd followed me out and the squad formed up. Four in front, four in back of us. Ljotur checked the formation, nodded, took position in front and raised his spear.
“Forward-burtu!”
We burtu’ed at a slow trot, down the road and turned right at the corner. Which put us directly on the route to the red brick lodgings where Iron John lurked, as I remembered from our first visit. Trotted down the road and into a tunnel under a, row of buildings. One of the guards to the rear tapped me on the shoulder.
“Give me a hand, will you?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
Then swung sideways and planted his fist in the stomach of the guard next to him. Who folded and dropped without a sound.
This was easy enough to understand. I had turned when he tapped me so I kept turning to face the rear. I reached out and got a hand on the other two guards’ necks. Squeezed as they turned their spears towards me.
“Floyd!” I gasped out, putting all my energy into my throttle grips so these jokers would pass out before they harpooned me. “The others!”
One of the guards dropped but the other one, with a stronger neck, kept his spear coming. Into my stomach
No, not quite. The first guard, who had called to me, gave him a quick chop under the ear. He and I whirled about, ready to jump to Floyd’s help. And stopped.
The four other guards were lying in a silent, tumbled heap on the ground. Floyd had a spear pressed firmly under Ljotur’s jaw, was holding him up with his other hand.
“You want to talk to this guy?” Floyd asked. “Or you want him down there with the others?”
“I’ve nothing to say . . .”
“No talk. Drop.”
Before I could finish speaking a limp Ljotur joined the rest of the sleeping patrol.
“What about this one?” Floyd asked, fingers arced, pointing to the soldier who had called to me.
“Wait! He started this thing. There has to be a reason for it.
“There is,” the soldier said in the same hoarse voice. “I am going to tell you a few things. You will not laugh at anything I say – understood?”
“We’re not laughing!” I said. “Great, guy, thanks for the help. And what’s the plan?”
“First off-remember about the laughing! I’m not a guy. I’m a girl. Do I see lips bending?”
“Never!” I called out, to disguise the fact that a little flicker of emotion had appeared. “You saved us. We are in your debt. We are not laughing. So tell us about it.”
“All right. But let’s drag these so-called soldiers out of the way first. Then we go on. The orders were to bring you to Iron John and that is what I am going to do. Your friend is in danger. Do nothing precipitate. Forward.”