David Robbins - Citadel Run

Except for wispy tendrils, most of the smoke had drifted from the field of conflict.

Hickok stared at the stockade. “Is she there?”

“She’s there,” Blade confirmed. “She’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“Maybe we can leave ’em in there another night,” the gunman proposed. “We’ll make like we’re too busy checking bodies to pay them any mind.”

Blade chuckled, then inadvertently flinched as Joshua probed his wound. “I don’t think it would work.”

“Why not?” Hickok wanted to know.

Just then, a loud male voice shouted at them from within the stockade.

“If a certain party doesn’t get his fat buns over here this instant and release us, then I’m going to tell another certain party some news the first certain party doesn’t want the second certain party to know about a third certain party who shall remain nameless! If you get my drift!”

“That dingblasted Injun!” Hickok fumed, and stormed toward the stockade.

Joshua, in the process of cleaning Blade’s gunshot with a clean compress and an herbal remedy developed by the Healers, grinned. “Was that who I think it was?”

“It was,” Blade affirmed.

Joshua laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Blade asked.

“I never realized it before,” Joshua replied, “but you guys are a lot of fun!”

First observation: no guards.

Yama hesitated inside the Biological Center doors, astonished at discovering the lack of security. On reflection, though, it seemed eminently logical; who would be foolish enough to invade the lair of the Doktor and his Genetic Research Division?

Second observation: judging from ground level, the building must be a virtual maze. Eleven hallways branched off from a small reception area. A desk and a chair were positioned a few feet inside the doors, but the post was vacant.

So were the hallways.

Where was everyone?

Something whined to his left and Yama turned.

Third observation: never again judge Civilized Zone society by Family standards.

A row of four wide doors lined the walls to his left, doors lacking knobs or handles. Above each door was a lighted strip containing four letters and seven numbers: S-B-G-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-R.

What did it all mean?

The G in the lighted strip above the second door suddenly lit up, there was a slight rumbling sound, and the door slid open.

A genetic deviate stepped out.

Yama noticed a bulletin board on a wall to his right and he headed toward it, forcing himself to stroll naturally, to avoid betraying any inkling of nervousness.

This G.R.D., as Gremlin had informed Yama they were called, was six feet in height. Its skin was covered with brown scales, and the spaces between its toes were webbed. A pair of huge, red eyes glared at the world from under a protruding brow. Its mouth was small, its lips thin and constantly twitching.

Yama reached the bulletin board and aligned his body go he could keep track of the G.R.D.

The thing walked to the outside doors and looked out. It frowned and glanced at Yama. “Did you see the Doktor leave?” it asked in a sibilant voice.

“You just missed him,” Yama courteously responded, hoping his tone and inflection were normal.

“Damn it!” the thing hissed. “I’ll have to catch him after he returns from the banquet tonight.” It whirled and vanished down one of the hallways.

Banquet?

An announcement on the bulletin board drew Yama’s attention:

“TO ALL PERSONNEL: THIS IS YOUR FINAL REMINDER! YOU ARE ENCOURAGED TO ATTEND THE FORMAL BANQUET TONIGHT AT 2100 IN HONOR OF OUR GLORIOUS LEADER. THE RECEPTION LINE FORMS AT 2000. SEATING MUST BE ACCOMPLISHED BY 2030. THE PLACE: THE CONVENTION CENTER. BE THERE!”

Yama read another announcement tacked to the board below the first:

“TO ALL PERSONNEL: PARADE AT 0600. IN HONOR OF SAMUEL II’s VISIT, AS PART OF THE PREPARATION FOR THE CAVALRY DRIVE, ALL MILITARY PERSONNEL, INCLUDING ALL BI CEN AUX, ARE REQUIRED TO PARTICIPATE IN A FULL-DRESS PARADE AT 0600. BE THERE!”

Yama thoughtfully stroked his chin. If he comprehended these messages, Samuel the Second was in Cheyenne for a banquet at the Convention Center. His visit was linked to the big push against the Cavalry commencing the next day. If the personnel in the Biological Center were encouraged to attend, it might mean the Doktor’s den was understaffed.

With fewer people—or whatever—crowding the halls, it increased the probability of a successful mission.

But which way should he try first?

He happened to look out the front doors, and immediately tensed.

That meddling policeman was returning with six armed soldiers. They were halfway up the steps already.

Yama moved to the reception desk, thankful the doors were tinted in the same fashion as the SEAL. If inside, you could see out, but those outside could not view the interior.

Which way should he go?

The decision was taken from his hands.

Yama walked to a hall on his left, then stopped as the clamor of a loud conversation carried down the hallway.

Others were coming!

The Warrior found himself hemmed in: in front of him, a confusing network of hallways; behind him, the policeman and the soldiers he had summoned; to his right, the bulletin board; and to his left, the…

The what?

Yama edged toward the four wide doors without knobs. The second door was still open, the G above the door flashing yellow. A memory tugged at Yama’s consciousness, a recollection from his childhood, from his schooling years. He recalled lessons dealing with life before World War III, in particular a study of the mechanized marvels mankind had developed before the Big Blast. One of the books from the Family Library was spread open on the teacher’s desk, revealing photograph after photograph of wonders of the scientific age: planes and jets, buses and trains, cars and trucks, motorcycles and snowmobiles, and something really incredible.

Portable closets.

Yama absently snapped his fingers, attempting to remember the proper name. It began with an E…

Elevators!

Yama hurried into the open elevator. To his right was a series of letters and numbers corresponding to those on the lighted strip above the door, with each letter or numeral stamped onto a square white button. The buttons were arranged in a vertical row.

How did the elevator operate?

Yama glanced at the front doors.

The policeman and the six soldiers were only three steps from the top.

Yama quickly pressed the bottom button, the one marked with an S.

Instantly, the door slid shut and the elevator rocked slightly as it began to descend.

Where was it taking him?

The elevator’s descent was quiet, the motion smooth. As the door had closed, the button labeled with a G became very bright. The G grew dark after a few seconds, however, and the next button, the one marked with a B, lit up. After the elevator continued to drop, the next button, the S, flickered and illuminated.

What did the G, B, and S stand for?

The elevator abruptly stopped and the door rolled Yama raised the Wilkinson, alert for trouble.

A solitary hallway extended from the elevator, running straight ahead for twenty-five yards before it branched in two directions. The walls were constructed of cinder blocks, the ceiling of white tile, while the floor was covered with a thick red carpet.

The hall was deserted.

Yama edged from the elevator. There were closed doors on both sides of the hallway, four on his left and three on his right. The first door he passed was identified by a small sign reading: “Janitorial Closet.”

Not exactly what he was looking for.

The next door bore a sign stating: “Bio Lab.” Yama tried the doorknob and the door swung slowly open. Cautiously, he peered around the door, not knowing what to expect.