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  Beside him, Mildred had also risen to her feet and checked her own blaster, the .38-caliber Czech-made ZKR 551 target pistol. Although not the most powerful of the handblasters that had run through the hands of the companions during their time roaming the Deathlands, it suited Mildred perfectly, being the model she had used in her days as an Olympic-grade shooter.

  For Mildred was, like Doc Tanner, a relic of the past who should not, by rights, have been alive in the Deathlands. She had spent Christmas of the year 2000 in hospital for routine surgery on a suspected ovarian cyst. While under anesthetic, Mildred had developed complications that saw her vital signs sinking fast with no apparent way to revive her. She was cryogenically frozen until this seemingly minor problem could be solved.

  Ironically, it was the act of dying that kept her alive, for while she was frozen the superpowers executed the military and nuclear maneuvers preceded skydark and the resultant nuclear winter that created the landscape of the Deathlands.

  When Ryan and his traveling companions stumbled across the facility where her frozen body was stored and managed to successfully revive her, she found herself in an incomprehensibly different world to the one she had left behind.

  Unlike Doc—whose body and mind had been prematurely aged and ripped apart as a result of being flung through time—Mildred had kept a grasp on reality and adapted well to the harsh new world. Her medical skills were sometimes blunted by the lack of resources, but she had proved herself invaluable to the band of travelers by her ability to apply her knowledge in even the most exceptional circumstances.

  Mildred's first move after clearing her head from the aftereffects of the jump was to join Ryan and Krysty over Doc's slumped body.

  "You know that one day this is going to be once too often for the old fool," she commented as she thumbed back Doc's flickering eyelid to get a better look at his wildly rolling eye. She felt his sweat-plastered forehead. "Not too much of a temperature, though," she said, almost to herself. Rummaging in the pockets of her jacket, she produced a battered stethoscope that had been salvaged from the ruined medical bay of a previous redoubt. She opened Doc's shirt, roaming the end of the stethoscope across his chest until she picked up his heart rate. It was fluttering and irregular, but even as she listened it began to settle into a more regular rhythm.

  "Hell, I think the old buzzard might even last this one out," she said to the others, a smile flickering at the corners of her mouth.

  "Mebbe he'll even outlive Jak—well, at this rate it seems likely," Dean commented wryly as he glanced over his shoulder to where Jak Lauren had risen to his knees before retching and puking a thin string of bile onto the chamber floor.

  Jak looked tiny swathed in his multipatched camou jacket, and cut a pathetic figure as he coughed and spit out the last of the vomit, spasms jolting his body. But this impression was belied by the fact that the teenager—an albino from the swamps of the bayou whose pale face was covered in the scars of innumerable battles—was a born hunter and fighter, his slight frame almost entirely consisting of wiry muscle stretched over his skeleton.

  Despite the vast reserves of strength that he held within his wiry frame, Jak was the member of the group who was hit hardest by the mat-trans jumps, always taking the longest to recover, his senses reeling and his body racked by pain.

  "Right now be glad see Doc last longer." Jak coughed in between gulping down breaths of air, his red eyes beginning to focus on the rest of the group. "Feel like already long chilled," he added with a rare grin.

  As Jak pulled himself to his feet, and Dean and Mildred helped a dazed and confused Doc to his feet,

  Ryan, J.B. and Krysty moved across to the chamber door. This particular chamber had teal-blue arma-glass walls; most of the chambers they had encountered, whatever the color of the armaglass, had been opaque. And although that was a good thing because it meant that they couldn't be observed from the outside, it also meant that exiting from each chamber and into the redoubt was fraught with the possibility of being open to an attack they couldn't predict.

  Ryan paused by the door and looked at Krysty. Her Titian mane was flowing free, not curling close to her head.

  "Feels good to me, lover," she said simply.

  Ryan spared her a smile, his single eye sparkling. "Mebbe I'd gathered that," he replied, indicating her free-flowing tresses.

  "So take it yellow but still alert?" the Armorer interjected. It was a question, as Ryan was the undisputed leader—there had to be one in any group if they were to survive—but J.B. was as experienced as his old friend, and just needed the one-eyed warrior to confirm what he suspected he was thinking.

  Ryan nodded. "Check the others. Are we ready?"

  He looked over the rest of his people. Dean was now alert and ready for action, while Doc was recovering rapidly, attended by Mildred.

  The younger Cawdor nodded assent at his readiness. Mildred muttered a swift yes before looking at Doc, who also nodded assent, leaning heavily on his lion's-head sword stick but looking stronger with each passing second. Already he had the unwieldy but effective LeMat pistol sitting easily against the heel of his hand.

  That just left Jak. The albino was resilient and strong, and he had already moved over to where Ryan, Krysty and J.B. were poised by the chamber door, his .357 Magnum Colt Python already in his hand.

  "Ready," he said shortly.

  Ryan nodded and reached out for the handle on the interior of the door. It was a simple handle, seemingly too simple a lock mechanism for something that would seal a doorway against the outside world while matter transfer took place within.

  Ryan's muscles tensed perceptibly in the fraction of a second it took for the door to swing open, his easy stance replaced by a steeled spring that took him into the anteroom outside. J.B. swung into position behind him, his Uzi up and ready, covering his friend.

  Ryan took in his surroundings with one swift circular glance, years of training in the art of survival meaning that every detail of the area was imprinted on his sole retina.

  The comp control room was deserted, with the remaining comp consoles covered in a thin layer of dust despite the gentle hum of the air conditioning, suggesting that the plant that cleaned the air was at least still partly working.

  Ryan rolled, clutching the Steyr by stock and barrel, shielding it from harm with his body as he came up on his feet, hunkered behind one of the consoles that provided scant cover.

  He looked around. The area outside the chamber was lifeless and empty, and it seemed apparent that there was little, if any, life in this part of the redoubt. It was an impression gained from the slight buildup of dust and dirt by the sec door leading to the corridor beyond.

  "Safe down here," Ryan called, rising and noting in passing that the light on top of the sec camera that stood in the top left corner of the arena was dead, "and we can't be seen by anyone."

  Relaxed but with a residue of tension that never left them, the rest of the group exited the mat-trans chamber and dispersed into the comp control room. Dean and Krysty, who both had gained an interest in old tech, went over to the still blinking console that controlled the mat-trans chamber.

  "Any idea where we landed?" Krysty murmured to Dean.

  The youth shook his head. "We need some kind of direction indicator, mebbe a map with it. I guess it's down to J.B. and the stars."

  The Armorer expressed his acknowledgment of Dean's comment with a twitch of the lips that may have been a smile or a grimace. It was true that often the only way they knew what part of the Deathlands they had landed in was when the Armorer was able to get outside the redoubt to take a reading on his minisextant from the sky above. It was ironic that, with all the old tech around them, it was something so simple and ancient was the most reliable location finder.

  It also amused J.B. for the simple reason that, before they could get the reading, they would have to reach the surface. And that, as they all knew from past experience, wasn't a foregone conclusion by any means.
r />   "May I suggest, my dear Ryan, that if the redoubt is in all probability empty, then we try to make a rapid if secured progress and ascertain if there are any supplies to be salvaged?"

  "Why don't you just say let's look to see if we can sleep and eat?" Mildred added.

  Ryan suppressed a good-humored smile. The opportunity to relax enough to make jokes was rare, and if the atmosphere could be maintained by circumstances, then it would benefit them all to rest and eat before taking up their guard once more and taking a look at the outside. And there was only one way to do that.

  "Okay, people," the one-eyed man said, "let's take a look outside. Once we get the door open, then it's triple red. Let's keep it tight until we know what we're dealing with."

  In many ways it was unnecessary for Ryan to say this, as they had stayed alive for so long by following their instincts and taking such actions as a matter of course; but by saying it, Ryan helped focus himself and his companions on the task ahead.

  Forming up as Ryan punched in the sec code to open the automatic door, Krysty was next in line behind the one-eyed man. Jak came next, with Doc sandwiched between the albino and Dean. Mildred fell into line ahead of J.B., the Armorer bringing up the rear. All seven were silent, their senses tuning into the stillness and quiet around as they psyched themselves up to spot the slightest change. All stood easily, yet the observant eye could see that each had shifted his or her balance in such a way that everyone was poised for the optimum reaction.

  The door hissed slightly as the mechanism opened, leading onto the corridor beyond.

  From their long experience, they knew that the vast majority of redoubts that housed mat-trans chambers were built on the same basic plan, which put them on one of the lower levels. Many redoubts were buried underground, running sometimes hundreds of feet deep. Sometimes, the entrances could be found built into the sides of mountains or hills, or cut into the sides of valleys, so that they were sheltered but still at ground level. The armory and general sec supplies and barrack facilities were on the higher levels, with a quicker access to the entrances, while the middle levels usually housed sleeping and recreational facilities, including the mess halls and kitchens.

  All levels were accessed by the corridors, each of which was equipped with a series of sec doors that could seal off sections when required. The levels themselves were accessed by a series of large elevators, some of which were designed for large numbers of personnel, and some of which could take equipment and smaller vehicles. A series of stairwells served as an emergency backup for possible power or circuit failure on the elevators. These stairwells were accessed by sec doors, and were of bare concrete and sparsely lit. The elevators had sec risks for the companions, but from bitter experience they were all aware that the stairwells were traps from which there was less chance of escape.

  So they would always choose the elevators if possible. Thus it was that Ryan led his people toward the elevator. All his senses and instincts were telling him that the redoubt was deserted. There was no sign of life anywhere on this level, and indeed it seemed that the level had seen no activity since skydark. And experience told him that, if the redoubt was in any way occupied, sheer curiosity and the search for jack and loot to trade would have led the occupants down to this level.

  The companions were relaxed but still alert as they reached the end of the corridor and the dulled metal doors that closed over the elevator shaft.

  Ryan studied the electronic panel. "Looks like it's still working," he muttered. "Let's see…"

  The one-eyed man tapped the call button, and the friends stood in complete silence, listening intently for the gentle purr of the mechanism as it approached.

  "Sounds like the shaft's unaffected," J.B. mused.

  The elevator reached their level, a muted shuddering announcing its halt. As the doors opened smoothly onto the empty car, Jak said, "Mebbe luck change… for once."

  Chapter Two

  With a muted hiss, the doors of the elevator opened onto the next level. Ryan and J.B. were poised with blasters ready, their companions ready to move to defensive positions and return fire. Their condition-red stance was met with an almost mocking silence. The corridor ahead of them was as deserted as the one they had just left.

  Both Ryan and the Armorer relaxed, the one-eyed warrior turning to the others as he did so.

  "Looks like this one has never been breached," he said. "Guess we should take a look around and see if they left anything behind before they evacuated."

  "If we're lucky," Mildred added, "there should be food and medical supplies."

  "Hot pipe, more self-heats," Dean commented. The tinned units of food that had been standard military issue were usually somewhat tasteless, but they did have the advantage of staying edible for a long time, were easy to transport and had the extra advantage their name suggested of being able to be heated in the pack at any time due to the self-heat mechanism they contained.

  Which didn't stop them being a last-ditch emergency.

  "Never mind, young Dean," Doc commented as he strode out into the corridor, stretching limbs cramped and weary from the jump. "Perhaps we can find some other comestibles in the kitchen areas that can be used for a more, ah, passable repast before we avail ourselves of the showers—always assuming that the water supply is still constant and the heating works in this relic of the past."

  "You're something of a relic yourself, you old buzzard, so watch what you're dismissing," Mildred cut in. "Besides, why do you always talk so much?"

  "Just because we live in times of darkness and despair, my dear Doctor, there is no need for us to stop exercising our intellect and imagination—as I'm sure you are too well aware, if you can desist from the desire to extract humor from me at every opportunity…" His tone was harsh, but there was a twinkle in his still clear eyes.

  "Let's stop arguing with each other and just get to business," Ryan suggested.

  "Yeah. Could use sleep," Jak commented.

  The Armorer nodded. "And I'd like to check out the armory as soon as possible. If they left this place more or less intact…" He let his words trail off, but the implication was obvious. If the facilities on this level were as complete as its desertion would suggest, then there was a chance that the armory would also have been left in a fully stocked condition. Not only would this give them all a chance to replenish ammo stocks and perhaps pick new weapons, but it would also satisfy his desire to examine another fully-stocked predark arms dump.

  "But first things first," Krysty remarked, pulling off her fur coat, which was proving stifling in the temperature-regulated atmosphere. "Shower, food, sleep."

  "Go to it," Ryan replied, indicating that she should take the lead now that they were as sure as was possible of the redoubt's safety.

  While Krysty headed for the showers, Mildred made her way to the medical bay. As the only member of the group with pre-dark medical training, she was always keen to loot as many drugs, dressings and medical supplies as possible from a still stocked redoubt, filling the capacious pockets of her jacket with as much as it was possible for her to carry. Many of the drugs had been vacuum sealed with the intention of lasting for a long duration underground, and if she was able to find undamaged stocks of drugs, then it was a bonus that could prove invaluable in the outside world.

  Leaving Krysty to some privacy in the showers, Jak, Dean and Doc made their way to the kitchens to see what they could find. Jak detoured to check out the dorms, his mind fixed on some much needed rest, and a deep sleep untroubled by the need to stay on the alert.

  J.B. hung back to speak to Ryan.

  "This looks good. Food, showers, beds and no intruders."

  "Yeah. A bit too fireblasted good."

  "You thinking what I am?" the Armorer queried.

  Ryan nodded. "You find a redoubt this good, chances are that's because no one can get in."

  "So what do you reckon it'll be? The upper levels are trashed in some way and impassable—"

  "Or
the outside is too hostile to support any life."

  "Or has blocked us in," the Armorer finished.

  Ryan twitched a half smile. "There's always another jump if we can't get out. Mebbe enough here to let us stay and rest up a few days before."

  The Armorer assented. "We're okay for now. You go see Krysty. I'll see if Millie needs any help."

  "That's only because you don't want to venture near the kitchens if Dean and Doc are in action," Ryan said wryly.

  J.B. didn't answer, only remarking after a pause, "I'll resist the urge to go straight to the armory," before heading off to the medical bay.

  Ryan watched his longtime friend disappear around the bend in the corridor before shaking his head and allowing himself a smile.

  "NEED A HAND?"

  Mildred stopped rummaging through the cupboard. "You could get the rest of these things open and see if there's anything worth saving," she replied.

  J.B. moved across the large bay, past the row of couches that were designed for those who needed to be laid out while being treated, and joined Mildred at the far side of the room. He opened the cupboard door. "Looks like you hit the jackpot," he noted, casting an eye over the medical supplies within.

  Mildred agreed and enlisted his help to empty the cupboards onto the couches, so that she could more easily survey the cupboard's contents. It took them several trips to empty the array of cupboards.

  J.B. stood back and let Mildred take the lead. He knew a little about medical supplies from his time with Trader. The old man had insisted that all his people know the rudiments of first aid, and there had also been a thriving trade in the few medical supplies and drugs that could be salvaged and used for barter and trade. But Mildred was the expert.

  Her plaits swinging around her face, masking her expression as she muttered to herself, Mildred sifted through the vacuum packs of drugs and dressings. Some would be of little use on the outside, and those that were for minor ailments, such as the inoculations against the flu virus, were dismissed. People had to be hardier, and there was too little space for those drugs that couldn't be termed lifesaving. Besides, many of the smaller bugs and viruses from predark times had mutated into something that could no longer be combated by the old drug.