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Heading directly for the armory, the companions passed through the execution
ground, when a faint cry caught their attention.
"One is still alive," Krysty said softly.
Fumbling in her pocket for the flashlight, Mildred pumped the charging handle
several times, then hit the button. Sweeping the area, she saw movement in the
cages, and now could see the birds stabbing the man inside a cage with their
sharp
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"Chill me& " a hoarse voice pleaded from within the iron bars.
Ryan started for his blaster, then remembered how little ammo he had and
pulled his panga instead. Mildred held the light steady as Ryan went to the
cage and chased the birds away.
The seagulls cawed their annoyance and took wing while Ryan tried to reach the
throat of the man inside, but the spaces between the bars were too small for
his big hands. Checking the hinged door, Ryan saw it was closed with a heavy
padlock.
The prisoner whimpered again plaintively, as Ryan reluctantly drew the SIG-
Sauer and took aim, but then paused.
"You," he growled in recognition.
"Please& " the sec man whined, his face a scabby ruin from the hungry birds, a
blood-encrusted knife jutting from his belly, wads of cloth and ropes holding
it in place.
Without a word, Ryan holstered his piece, turned and walked back to the others
while the prisoner pleaded for death.
"Let him rot," he growled, giving back the flashlight. "Move on."
J.B. tilted back his fedora. "That the guy who aced Jones?"
"Yeah."
The group only got a yard before a thundering roar lit up the execution
grounds, and there was a terrible cry from the man inside the cage. As the
blast faded into the night, there were no more sounds from the prisoner,
except for the drip of blood falling onto the ground.
"Misfire," Dean said, holstering the blaster.
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Ryan gave his son a hard stare. "No more," he ordered. "We're low enough on
ammo as it is."
"My ammo," Dean answered defiantly, then relented. "But you're right. It was a
waste."
Waiting a minute, Ryan decided the boy meant it and started walking again.
Dean was becoming a man and didn't blindly follow orders anymore. That was
good and bad. But they would need a serious talk about this real bastard soon.
A group of sec men charged around the palace, their weapons at the ready. Ryan
recognized them as the guards from the palace. He had thought they were being
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followed, but in all the chaos on the streets, he hadn't been sure.
"We heard a shot," one panted. "What's the problem?"
"You okay, Baron?" another asked, wheezing for breath.
Easing J.B.'s Uzi off her shoulder, Mildred glanced over the sec men in
disapproval. Too much good living. They were in terrible shape. If invaders
got past the wall cannon, it would be a slaughter.
"We're executing a prisoner," Ryan said shortly. "Why aren't you at your
posts?"
"We are," a man explained awkwardly. "We're her bodyguards."
"Said you didn't want any in the palace," another added. "But we're outside
now."
"Got us," Jak said.
"Any problem with that?" J.B. asked, jacking the slide on his pump-action S&W
M-4000.
Mildred did the same with the Uzi. Without his glasses, J.B. was more of a
threat
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others.
"Course not," the sergeant said, through gritted teeth. "Baron can choose
whoever the fuck he& she wants for bodyguards. She won the fight. Wroth is the
baron.
She wants you, that's all I needs to know."
"Just ain't heard her say it," another added. The others muttered agreement
and didn't relax their stance.
"How dare you speak in that manner?" Krysty said, walking closer and slapping
the sergeant. She didn't want to, but there was no other way to make the
point.
"This is my ville, and you will do as you're told!"
"But, ma'am," he answered, rubbing his stinging cheek, "we were only "
"Silence! These people are my blood kin," she lied. "Obey them as you would
me.
Understand? Or do I need new sec men?"
"Of course, my lady," a guard said, hastily lowering his blaster. "Our
apologies."
Ryan watched the other sec men. The troops were unhappy with the idea and
would bear watching. The son of a baron, he knew what to do next in this
situation, but did she?
"My lady," he spoke urgently, "a word, please."
"Later," Krysty said. "You there, name!"
Shifting the blaster to his other hand, the man saluted. "Sergeant Armstein,
Baron."
"Take your squad and shut the ville down. No more parties. In one candle of
time, I want the streets cleared and everybody sent home. Use the gaudy house
as your base to coordinate everything. There's a lot to do tomorrow, and I
don't want the entire population too exhausted to work."
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They were being placed in charge of the gaudy house? Armstein tried to hide
his pleasure at the news, while the other sec men openly grinned and nudged
each other.
"It will be done, Baron," the sergeant stated. "Anything else?"
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"Get moving," Krysty said brusquely. "We're going to do an inventory of the
armory. And remember, you have only one candle. Do not fail me, Sergeant."
The familiar words sent a chill down the man's spine, and he gushed loyalty to
the woman as he and the squad started off at a brisk run.
"Go straight to the gaudy house, kick everybody else out, then grab a quick
one,"
Mildred said, easing off the bolt on the Uzi. The spring of the tough little
blaster had been repaired many times, and there was no sense putting a strain
on the metal for no reason. They were safe enough now.
"Which will keep them busy until tomorrow," Krysty said. "If we're going to be
here for a while, got to find some to win their loyalty."
"You have it already," Ryan said. "It's only us they want to chill."
"Was going to use sec men to make black powder," J.B. stated, sliding the
shotgun over a shoulder. "But mebbe I'll use the slaves instead. Less chance
of any trouble."
"From pirates?" Dean asked.
The Armorer grinned. "Under a death sentence anyway. But if they can escape
with the formula, be rich enough to buy a ville."
"Or a new ship," Ryan finished. "Yeah, smart. The slaves won't try anything
until they know what to do. Then they'll try to escape. Makes sense."
"Trader always used to say that the only person you can really trust is an
enemy
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"Got that right."
As the companions finally turned and walked away, the circling seagulls
eagerly descended in a flock upon the jungle gym and began to continue their
interrupted meal.
In the golden illumination of the lanterns, the armory could be seen as a
stout brick building, with rusty nails sticking out of the mortar between the
bricks like porcupine quills. The door was formed of wooden planks held
together with iron bands, and two guards stood outside, holding bolt-action
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