Chapter Thirty-One

 

 

Before the door had opened more than a few inches, Ryan was bounding across the office toward the recess between the bookcases. Putting his back to the elevator doors, he held his breath and waited, the SIG-Sauer held in a two-handed grip.

 

Doug strolled past him, the Browning autoshotgun angled jauntily over a shoulder. His pace slowed when he saw no one at the desk, then it quickened. Peering around the edge of the bookshelves, Ryan watched the man reach the front of the desk, look around, then do a violent double-take. A gasp of horror escaped his lips and he rushed clumsily around the desk, bending over to check the Commander's bullet-blasted corpse.

 

Ryan crossed the carpeted floor on the balls of his feet, sacrificing a certain amount of stealth for speed. He didn't use his guns. He got behind Doug, gripped the man's neck in both hands and twisted sharply. He didn't hear the snap of breaking vertebrae, merely a faint metallic creak. Doug choked out a half-gagged curse and his hands came up, locking around Ryan's wrists. The one-eyed man could feel his flesh and tendons being ground against bone, and it was all he could do to bite back a cry of pain.

 

Levering himself to his feet, still gripping Ryan's wrists, Doug turned, facing the double doors and suddenly bending forward at the waist, flipped Ryan over his back. Rather than resist the maneuver and risk having his arms dislocated or torn from their sockets, Ryan kicked off from the floor, landing on his back but cushioning the fall with the soles of his feet.

 

Doug staggered forward, off balance from the lack of resistance. He had no choice but to release Ryan's wrists or fall face forward.

 

In the instant his upper body was still bent forward, almost parallel with the floor, Ryan performed a backward half-somersault, kicking up with both legs, the soles of his combat boots slamming into Doug's face. The man straightened, half-blinded from the blood springing from his flattened nose and split lips. He staggered back and fetched up hard against the desk.

 

Ryan continued rolling, ignoring the pain in his shoulders, and came to his feet with his left fist driving into Doug's belly with all his strength behind it.

 

The man bent forward, clutching at his stomach, and Ryan slammed his right fist behind his adversary's left ear. He sagged, and the one-eyed warrior chopped the back of his neck with the edge of his palm.

 

If he had been a normal man, Doug would have died. But he was only half-stunned and struggled to pull himself erect. Ryan jacked his right knee into his opponent's forehead, and pain exploded up and down his leg, from ankle to thigh.

 

But Doug fell facedown, and while Ryan bit his lip to keep from groaning, the man forced himself over, fighting to get into a sitting position. His face was a mask of dark pink blood, and his expression was one of dazed, confused hurt. Drawing his blaster, Ryan moved behind him and put the bore against the back of his head.

 

"The woman," he said, voice quavering with the effort to control the agony in his knee and wrists. "Did you find her?"

 

Doug buried his face in his hands. He began to sob-dry, shuddering heaves that racked his body.

 

"Answer me!" Ryan pressed the pistol harder into his skull. "The woman!"

 

Voice muffled by his hands, choked with grief, Doug stammered, "Couldn't. Didn't. Don't know where. The Commander is dead."

 

"And so are you."

 

Ryan squeezed the trigger of the SIG-Sauer. The 9 mm round broke open the back of Doug's head, but it didn't exit from the front. The blaster bucked, the unexpected blowback nearly snatching it from his fingers. The force of the shot slammed the man's upper body forward, face hitting the floor between his knees. Metal gleamed in the mixture of clotted brain matter, synthetic flesh and blood.

 

Letting out his breath, Ryan knelt with difficulty, quickly examining the body. Though partially deflected by the metal plate in his skull, the bullet had still done enough damage to chill him. As it was, he doubted that anything less than a point-blank shot would have accomplished the job. He found his sheathed panga on Doug's belt, and after pulling it free, he took the man's ID badge from his lapel and unsteadily climbed to his feet.

 

After attaching the badge to his coat, Ryan drew the headset from his inner pocket and put it on. When he seated the earpiece Mildred's voice said. "won't you respond?"

 

"That's what I'm doing, Mildred."

 

"Ryan?" Her voice was filled with elation, but there was a throbbing roar in the background, and it sounded as if she were shouting.

 

"Yeah, it's me. Are you all right?"

 

"You have to speak up."

 

Raising his voice, Ryan asked again, "Are you all right?"

 

"More or less. You?"

 

"The same."

 

"What?"

 

Impatiently Ryan asked loudly, "Where the hell are you?"

 

"I don't know exactly, but I've found the primary cooling and circulation nexus. Where are you?"

 

"On the level where we split up. I've got Doug's ID badge and you can find me by the locater lozenge."

 

Voice troubled, Mildred replied, "I don't think there's a computer tie-in down here. I'll have to go up, get my hands on a badge so I can access it. Listen, I can take out a generator down here, probably start a thaw. At the very least it'll be a diversion."

 

"Do it," Ryan said. "On the level directly above me is some sort of a control room, with a mat-trans gateway. That'll be our escape route. I'll wait for you up there."

 

"What about J.B. and the others?"

 

"I don't know. There's a vid circuit upstairs connected to the cave, but when I checked it out a little while ago, there was no sign of them."

 

Mildred's response was so long in coming that Ryan almost called her name. Then her voice filtered over the earpiece. It was unsteady.

 

"If they're not there, what are we going to do?"

 

"We'll think about that later. First we have to get out of here. Blow the generators."

 

"When?"

 

"As soon as you can. I won't make my move until you've made yours. I'm sure all sorts of alarms, bells and whistles will go off, and that'll be my signal. Acknowledged?"

 

"Acknowledged. You know something?"

 

"What?"

 

"We need to put more thought into planning our field trips."

 

"Understood. Standby."

 

He waited until he was sure she'd signed off before allowing himself the luxury of a groan. Ryan sat back to wait, trying to massage the soreness from his wrists and knee.