David Robbins - Armageddon Run

Bertha questioned. “I didn’t think you two was on speakin’ terms.”

“Geronimo and Orson had a talk last night,” Hickok disclosed, “while they were pulling guard duty. Geronimo told me about it this morning. He thinks we’ve been a mite hard on Orson.”

“Oh, the poor baby!” Bertha cracked sarcastically.

“So how about it, pard?” Hickok said to Rudabaugh. “Where do you live?”

“I have a small ranch about thirty miles north of Pierre,” Rudabaugh answered. “I run about two hundred head of cattle, and I handle the dynamiting chores for anybody who needs some blasting done.”

“Who watches your ranch while you’re gallivanting around?” Hickok asked.

“My younger brother. One day he’ll be getting a spread of his own, and it’s good experience for him,” Rudabaugh stated.

They were only one block from the town square.

“How many brothers and sisters have you got?” Hickok inquired.

Rudabaugh grinned at the mention of his family. “Two older sisters and my younger brother. My sisters are married and they keep nagging me to tie the knot.”

“Typical,” Hickok declared. “Women are never happy unless they’re tellin’ a man what to do.”

“Oh, really?” Bertha said. “You get married, and all of a sudden you’re an expert on women, huh?”

“No man can be an expert on women,” Hickok opined.

“And why’s that?” Bertha pestered him.

Hickok nudged Rudabaugh with his left elbow and winked. “It’s because females are such contrary critters, no man could ever make sense out of ‘em.”

“I’ll be sure and tell your wife you said that the next time I see her,” Bertha commented.

They rounded a building and saw the SEAL still parked in front of the command post. Blade and Geronimo were standing near the driver’s door, conversing. Lynx was leaning against the vehicle, listening. Orson was visible on top of the command post, peering through the binoculars. The concrete command post was rectangular in shape with a flat roof. Access to the roof was gained via a flight of metal stairs attached to the western side of the structure, only 20 feet from the northwestern corner. The front door faced due north, and there was another exit in the eastern wall, about halfway along the building.

“We’re all here, pard,” Hickok said as they reached the transport.

Blade turned from his discussion with Geronimo. “Okay. We have a few things to talk about.” He gazed up at the roof. “Orson, can you hear me up there?”

Orson’s bearded countenance appeared over the rim of the roof. “Loud and clear.”

“Good. Give a listen to what I’m about to say, but keep your eyes peeled for any sign of movement on U.S. Highway 85,” Blade directed.

“Will do,” Orson replied.

Bertha grinned. Orson had obeyed Blade’s every command since the incident with Hickok the other night.

“The Spirit has smiled on us so far,” Blade said to them, “but the worst is yet to come. We’re as ready as we’re going to be for the Doktor. I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up yet, but his delay has worked to our advantage, allowing us the time to prepare our little surprises.” He paused, glancing at each of them in turn. “You all know what we’re doing here. We’re to stall as best we can. Somehow, some way, we’re to hold out here for two days.”

“Why two days?” Bertha asked.

“The Doktor will be expecting an ambush,” Blade stated. “He’s not stupid. He’ll have patrols scouting this area. If all of the Freedom Federation, all of the Cavalry and the Clan and the Moles and ourselves, were waiting for him here, he might decide to avoid a conflict and return to Cheyenne. Or he might elect to use a thermo on Catlow and wipe us all out—”

“What’s to stop the Doktor from using a thermo on our Home?”

Geronimo interjected.

“I doubt the Doc would waste a thermo on the Family,” Lynx declared.

“There weren’t too many thermo units still functional. If they have any left, you can bet the Doc and Sammy will save ’em for something special.”

“As I was saying,” Blade resumed, “we want to draw the Doktor in, deceive him into believing we’re alone. If our main column stays miles from here, if the Doktor doesn’t know we have a well-armed army of our own, he’ll become overconfident. He’ll throw everything he has at us, and the longer we can hold out, the more convinced he’ll be that we’re by ourselves. He’ll concentrate on us and his perimeter security will lapse.

Two days should do it. Two days after the fighting starts, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi and Kilrane will lead their forces in a combined assault on the Doktor’s flanks and defeat him.”

“We hope,” Hickok muttered.

“Wait a minute,” Rudabaugh said. “This plan of yours has a couple of holes in it. How do we know how big the Doktor’s force will be?”

“We don’t,” Blade replied.

“And what if his army is bigger than ours?” Rudabaugh queried.

“Rikki and Kilrane will attack unless they feel their column would be slaughtered if they did. In which case, it has already been decided they should retreat,” Blade explained.

“Leaving us high and dry.” Rudabaugh stated the obvious.

“Now you know why this was a volunteer mission,” Blade commented.

“One more thing,” Rudabaugh remarked. “How will Rikki and Kilrane know when to attack? How will they know when the fighting begins if they’re off in the distance somewhere? And what happens if we need them sooner, if we can’t hold out for two days?”

“Already taken care of,” Blade disclosed. “One of Kilrane’s most trusted men should be watching us at this very second. He’s under orders to keep Catlow under surveillance, evade the Doktor’s patrols, and report to Kilrane and Rikki on the double if we need them sooner than anticipated.”

“Hey!” Orson called down from the roof.

Blade looked up. “What is it?”

“Did Wolfe know all of this?” Orson asked.

“Every stage. He was in on all the planning sessions. Why?” Blade responded.

“He never told me all the details,” Orson complained. “All he said was whoever came here might not come back.”

“We didn’t want to divulge the entire scheme,” Blade informed him.

“Who knows where the Doktor might have spies?”

“There’s one thing I’d like to know, chuckles,” Lynx mentioned.

“What?”

“Why just seven of us? Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Seven was the most we could comfortably cram into the SEAL,” Blade answered.

“Speaking of the SEAL,” Rudabaugh stated, “I’ve heard you guys mention it has some armaments. What type of weapons, exactly?”

Blade reached out and patted the door. “The SEAL has already been battle tested, and we can vouch for its reliability. Our Founder, Kurt Carpenter, had two fifty-caliber machine guns hidden in recessed compartments under the front headlights. There is a flamethrower hidden in the center of the front fender. The SEAL has a rocket launcher positioned in the middle of the front grill. And, finally, we have a miniaturized surface-to-air missile mounted in the roof above the driver’s seat. The weapons systems are activated by a bank of four toggle switches installed in the dash. You also know the body is shatterproof and bulletproof. The SEAL will be our ace in the hole, so to speak.”

“So we might be able to boogie out of here if things get too hot,” Bertha said.

“Yes and no,” Blade declared.

“Uh-oh.” Bertha frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that. What do you mean by yes and no?”

“Yes, we could boogie, as you put it, and we’d probably stand a good chance of breaking through the Doktor’s lines. But no, we won’t do it because I don’t intend to let the Doktor know we have the SEAL here.”