David Robbins - Armageddon Run

Boar attempted to break the Doktor’s iron grip. He kicked and punched, to no avail.

“But although I’m not mad at you,” the Doktor went on, as if he were giving a lecture instead of strangling someone, “I am upset with you. Don’t you want to know why?”

Boar was gasping for air, his chest heaving.

“I can’t abide liars,” the Doktor commented. “And you are a liar. Don’t you want to know how I know?”

Boar gurgled and thrashed.

“Look at this shirt.” The Doktor held the buckskin shirt aloft. “Take a good look at it.”

Boar’s eyes were bulging from their sockets.

“Notice the back of the shirt,” the Doktor directed. “The man wearing this shirt was jumped from behind. You jumped him from the rear, didn’t you? You didn’t give him a chance to defend himself or surrender, did you?”

Boar wheezed, blood flowing from his nostrils.

“You never tried to take him alive for questioning,” the Doktor said.

“You were hungry. You thought you could kill him and eat him and no one would be the wiser. Am I right?”

Boar’s body was convulsing and quaking.

“Of course I’m right,” the Doktor stated. “If Thor hadn’t found you with the shirt, you wouldn’t have said a word. Correct?”

Blood was now running from Boar’s mouth, down his chin, and dripping on the Doktor’s hand.

“Well, you don’t disagree,” the Doktor remarked. “No, Boar, I’m not mad at you for consuming an impromptu meal. I might have satisfied my appetite too, given a similar set of circumstances. Had you only confessed the truth, I would have pardoned your monumental stupidity. But I can’t pardon a liar. When a person lies to another, it indicates a lack of respect. I’m saddened, Boar, to discover the low esteem in which you hold me.”

Boar’s eyes were glazing.

“I can’t trust a liar,” the Doktor said. “Whether predicated on respect or fear, trust is essential to any relationship. Without trust, there can’t be a mutual rapport. Without trust, how could I possibly rely on you? And if I can’t rely on you, then I don’t have any further need of you, do I?” The Doktor sighed. “You can see I’m right, can’t you?”

Boar was limp in the Doktor’s grasp.

“Our relationship, therefore, is officially severed,” the Doktor stated, and released his hold.

Boar’s lifeless body sank to the hard ground.

“Why didn’t you just fry the turkey?” Thor asked, referring to the slim metal collar around Boar’s neck. All of the Doktor’s genetically engineered offspring wore the collars; it was his infallible technique for insuring obedience. Thor had seen a number of malcontents subjected to the electrocution treatment over the years, their flesh crisped from the neck up by the collars.

The Doktor was inspecting the buckskin shirt. “Applying the personal touch always boosts one’s morale. I needed that.”

“Who do you think the guy was Boar ate?” Thor queried.

“There’s no way of telling from this,” the Doktor replied, waving the shirt in the air. “Buckskins are commonplace apparel outside the Civilized Zone.” The Doktor thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Are you still sending out regular patrols as I ordered?”

“Every quadrant is covered at least once every four hours,” Thor responded.

“And they haven’t seen anything?”

“Not a sign,” Thor verified.

“How odd,” the Doktor commented. “And yet Boar finds a man with a horse hiding in a ravine. Why? What was this man doing there?”

“Maybe,” Thor suggested, “this guy was passing through and had bedded down for the night in the ravine.”

“A possibility,” the Doktor said doubtfully. “But why was he so close to Catlow? Surely he heard the battle waged yesterday.”

“Maybe he came to see what all the racket was about.”

“Another possibility,” the Doktor acknowledged. “But I can’t accept his presence as a mere coincidence. Was he a messenger of some sort? If so, was he carrying a message to the defenders in Catlow? Or was he taking a report from them to someone else?”

“Does it matter?” Thor asked. “Either way, the message didn’t get through. And today we’ll finish off those bastards in Catlow.”

“I find it difficult to believe there are only six of them,” the Doktor mentioned.

“I saw Blade myself,” Thor mentioned, “and some woman behind a tree.

From the descriptions given by some of our troops, we know Hickok and Geronimo are in Catlow too. Two others were also seen. Some fat guy with a beard and another one who wears all black.”

“But there was no sign of Lynx?”

“No one reported seeing him.”

“What are they trying to pull?” the Doktor mused aloud. “Why hasn’t Lynx shown his face? If Lynx is in Catlow, that still means there are only seven of them. Where are the rest?”

“The rest?” Thor repeated quizzically.

“Use your brain, Thor,” the Doktor said testily. “Blade isn’t a moron. He wouldn’t place himself and the others in jeopardy without a sound reason. Catlow is obviously a trap. The question remains: why haven’t they sprung it?”

“There could only be the seven of them,” Thor stressed.

The Doktor glanced at Thor and sighed. “I can see where she was right. Leaving you in charge would be a grievous mistake.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Suffice it to say there must be more of them. Reinforcements must be nearby.”

“Why haven’t our patrols seen any sign of them?” Thor asked.

“How far afield have our patrols been ranging?”

“About two or three miles in every direction,” Thor said.

The Doktor ran his right hand through his shock of dark hair. “Logic would dictate reinforcements be close to Catlow so they could assist Blade as promptly as possible. But if the reinforcements are beyond the three-mile limit, they couldn’t hope to reach Catlow before we…” The Doktor’s face brightened and he snapped his fingers. “Of course!”

“What?” Thor inquired.

“That must be it!” The Doktor started laughing.

“What?” Thor persisted.

“It’s the classic fencing ploy! The feint and thrust!”

“The what?” Thor’s confusion was evident.

“Catlow is a feint,” the Doktor said. He saw the consternation on Thor’s features and decided to elaborate. “In fencing, in boxing, or in any type of combat, you feint when you make a move in one direction, hoping your opponent will concentrate on that move, when all the time you were simply setting up your foe for the real thrust. The Warriors initiated a foray into the Civilized Zone by taking Catlow. But the move is a feint, designed to draw me out so they can launch their main thrust. That’s what the rider was doing hiding in the ravine.”

“The rider?”

“Certainly. He was the one who would contact the reinforcements at the proper time. There’s no other rational explanation!”

Thor pondered the Doktor’s words.

The Doktor laughed triumphantly. “The fools! They have unwittingly played into our hands! Without their messenger, they are stranded in Catlow. They are at our mercy!”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Thor complimented the Doktor. “I would never have figured it out.”

The Doktor’s chest puffed outward. “This is a valuable object lesson. Remember it always. The Genetic Research Division wouldn’t last two seconds without me at its helm.”

“I will always remember,” Thor promised, “and be loyal to you.”

The Doktor placed his hand on Thor’s shoulder. “I appreciate your devotion. It’s why I made you my second in command.”

“Do we attack soon?” Thor asked eagerly.

“After my breakfast.”