Robinson Crusoe 2244 (26 page)

When Robinson heard the splash to his left, he decided to act. He released the projectile with as much force as he could muster. He knew it wouldn’t be a killing shot, but when one of the Alpha’s eyes blossomed red, he let out a triumphant cheer. Immediately, he turned and tugged at the tower with all his might. The rusted bolts on the deck snapped and the tower groaned as it toppled forward. The plan seemed to work perfectly when the tower struck and snapped the cable at one end, sending it plummeting straight for the Alpha, but she vaulted back at the last second, allowing the cable to whip by freely. After it passed, she charged. To Robinson’s left, the dog in the water was just reaching the submerged stern. To his right, the third dog was leaping for the bow. It came up just short, but its limbs clung to the railing as its rear legs kicked to get aboard.

Robinson was certain he was about to die, when suddenly the cable recoiled toward the dock and tore through the rotting wood like butter. With a roar, the timber tumbled down the incline, smashing into the gangplank and the ship’s hull. The ship jolted once more, throwing the dog at the bow into the water and under an avalanche of falling debris.

With the boat bucking wildly under the avalanche of wooden beams, Robinson ran across the radio tower and made for land. The Alpha sprang up and lashed out at him as he passed below. Pain flared through his foot as one of its nails sliced through his boot. The ship started pulling away from the shore, the radio tower drawing back, and he dove at the last second, impacting hard against the incline’s edge. Jagged asphalt bit into his chin, but he scrambled to safety.

When Robinson turned back, he was shocked to see the ship was now free and listing away from land. The Alpha stalked up and down the deck, howling and slashing at the last remaining dog that had swum to the bow. Eventually, she settled, but her eyes never left Robinson. Implicit in that stare was a fury that chilled his blood. He hoped wherever the ship landed, it would be far enough away that they would never cross paths again.

The remainder of the trip to the military base went without incident. If there were renders this far out of the city, they were hunting other game tonight.

A few blocks from the base, Robinson saw a glow over the airfield. As he got closer, he saw industrial lights set up to illuminate the trees surrounding the base. He wondered why such a display wasn’t drawing more predators, but as he neared the perimeter, he saw several mutated animals writhing in pain along an imaginary line.

Only when he neared it did he feel a pinch at his temples that made his teeth buzz. Someone was using radio waves to keep the renders back. The waves weren’t debilitating to him, but he didn’t know what prolonged exposure would do, so he ran between two abandoned hangers for a look of what awaited him on the other side.

The base had been set up in the central airfield, surrounded by the carcasses of ancient flyers. A dozen glowing tents were huddled just off the main tarmac, with a large group of Iron Fists milling outside. Many sat around fires, laughing and drinking, while political prisoners sat huddled together in the cold, a dozen meters away. They were finishing off some sort of meal and had only thin bedrolls for cover. None bore chains that Robinson could see, nor was there any kind of fencing, but as he drew closer, he saw each had a device locked around his or her ankle that emitted a small, pulsing light.

It took a while but he finally spotted Taskmaster Satu lying on a blanket near the back. Another prisoner brought him food, but he waved it off, only to reconsider when the man badgered him. It was incredibly difficult to see someone so domineering reduced to such a shell of his former self.

Between the tarmac and the far tree line was a tent, triple the size of the others. Half a dozen flyers surrounded it. Iron Fists came and went from the tent, each carrying boxes of paper that were then either stacked in a flyer or tossed into a bonfire.

Near Robinson were a number of latrines that the Iron Fists used at will, but the prisoners were left to attend to their business in the open. To the west was a large water tank that had been hoisted onto a wooden platform adjacent to a still. Over the course of a half turn, Robinson heard the Iron Fists call out for the prisoners to fetch their drinks and promptly clouted them when they took too long. The situation made his blood boil, but he needed answers, so he crept along a low berm to the back of the water tower. There, he waited nearly a turn before Taskmaster Satu rose wearily and made his way over to fill his cup.

“Taskmaster,” Robinson whispered, “can you hear me?”

His former teacher went still for a moment. Robinson was about to call out again when he asked, “Who’s there?”

“It’s Robinson.”

Robinson thought he might have heard the beginning of a laugh.

“Bloody hell, boy. Is it really you? Or have I finally gone mad?”

“You’re not mad. Not any more than you’ve ever been.”

This time he did laugh, although it was low and not loud enough to carry.

“I should have known after all the hullaballoo yesterday. I thought my eyes were deceiving me. You used the radio.”

“That’s right.”

He chuckled again. “Asking for your father. That set the hornet’s nest up end, I’ll tell you. Then again, that was always your forté.”

“Taskmaster, I need to know what’s happening. Why are the Iron Fists here? What are they looking for? Is my father still alive? What about my brother and sister?”

“So many questions. I see your time away hasn’t changed you much.”

“Then you’re not looking closely enough. Who’s behind this? Is it Tier Saah? Is he in charge?”

“It’s
Regent
Saah now. And yes, he’s had the entire bloody Isle turned upside down looking for you. When he couldn’t find you, we thought you might’ve come here.”

“
We
?”

“Your father and me.”

“Then he’s alive?”

“He was. Locked in the Tower for months. Now, I’m not sure.”

“Why didn’t Tier Saah just kill him? Or have him walk the Road? Or bring him here with you?”

“Vardan and your father go way back. I believe he views Leodore as his sworn enemy. ‘Nemesis’ might be a better word. Perhaps he keeps him to gloat over. Then again, he might also fear making him a martyr. Your father is loved by many, you know.”

“What about Tannis and Tallis?”

“Alive and in hiding, but again, I can’t say for how long.”

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Impossible. They have affixed us with these devices like chattel. Quite irremovable. Twice my fellow detainees have attempted escape only to be recaptured and … well, I’ll save you the unsavory details. Needless to say, these conditions do not bode well for our long-term health.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

He paused and then spoke softly, “You’ve already lost so much.”

And then an Iron Fist yelled out from across the field, “Teacher! A glass!”

“Right away, Ser!” Taskmaster Satu responded before grabbing a cup and spitting into it. “Petty and crude, I know. But I’ve found little is beneath me these days.”

“What does Saah want with the documents? And what does any of this have to do with my mother?”

“Your mother was the one who discovered Ser Saah’s plot. She was trying to find a cure for the Rendering when she learned of his campaign.”

“The campaign to do what?”

“What men do best:
make war
.”

“Teacher!” the Iron Fist yelled again. “I am getting parched. And when I get parched, I get angry!”

“Right away, Ser!” Taskmaster Satu responded but the cup fumbled out of his hands and cracked. Across the field, several of the Iron Fists laughed.

“I don’t understand. Who would we go to war with?”

“There are seven continents on this planet, Robinson. You know we weren’t the only ones to survive.”

“But the One People live in peace.”

“Peace, war—two sides of the same coin. It is man’s nature to struggle. When devoid of natural conflict, we will always turn upon our brother to fill the void.”

“That’s it!” the Iron Fist shouted and rose. “I’ll show you what happens when you keep me waiting.”

“Taskmaster—” Robinson said.

“Be quiet and listen. Saah has begun amassing weapons from the pre-Render civilization here but now he is searching for something specific. It is called FENIX. I cannot speak of its capabilities or purpose, but he cannot be allowed to find it. You must do everything in your power to stop him from acquiring it. Promise me.”

“Of course, but come with me. I can help you.”

Taskmaster Satu looked over his shoulder as the Iron Fist closed in.

“There is no help for me now. Go. Be the man your parents hoped for. Light the wick they can never blow out.”

“Talking to yourself again, Teacher?” the Iron Fist said as he pulled out his truncheon. “I have just the remedy for that.”

Fueled by alcohol, the Iron Fist swung his truncheon again and again as Robinson edged back into the night, silently pleading for the rain of blows to stop.

“Careful,” another Iron Fist warned. “Captain has a particular fondness for that one.”

“As do I. He failed me in all my classes ten years back. Let’s see how he grades this performance.”

The abuser was raising his truncheon again when the toe of Robinson’s axe caught him flush in the forehead. He dropped like a stone.

“Taskmaster? Can you walk?” Robinson asked, but his teacher could only groan.

Robinson reached down to pick him up when something struck the back of his head. His vision exploded with stars. He teetered and fell to the ground as blood ran down his scalp and neck.

A boot rolled him over as a familiar voice sounded: “Looks like we have company, boys. Let’s make him feel welcome.”

Robinson’s vision focused long enough for him to recognize the face, even though he wore a different uniform.

There, standing over him, was Jaras Saah.

“It looks like a native, Captain,” said the Iron Fist.

“I can see that,” Jaras snapped. “Though Father always said they were formidable. This one fell like a woman with a single blow.”

“He might not be alone. Shall I have the unit check the perimeter?”

“Yes,” Jaras said. “And shoot anything that moves. We can’t have these apes wandering into our camp and killing us in our sleep.”

The Iron Fist left just as Jaras secured Robinson’s tomahawks to his belt. He had called him an “ape” while his subordinate had described him as a “native,” which meant neither had recognized him. It might have been the oil and dirt that covered Robinson’s face or the fact that it was night. Then again, he was probably the last person in the world Jaras expected to see here.

Out of the corner of his eye, Robinson saw an Iron Fist check Taskmaster Satu’s pulse and shake his head. Robinson let out a moan.

“When that man recovers,” Jaras said, pointing to the Iron Fist on the ground, “I want you to disarm him, escort him past the repulsion field, and give him to the renders. And any man that defies my orders in the future will be immediately executed!”

“Yes, Ser,” the Iron Fist responded.

Another nodded at Robinson. “What do you plan on doing with him, Captain?”

“I plan on delivering him to my father. He’ll know what to make of him.”

For some unexplainable reason, Robinson chuckled.

“Find that funny, do you? Let’s see if you’re laughing after this.”

Jaras held something in his hand. Eventually, Robinson realized it was Taskmaster Satu’s old lash. One minute it was twirling and the next it was speeding straight for his face. He caught it midflight.

“Let go. Let go, you bloody bastard, or else!”

Robinson grinned. And then he heard the Iron Fist’s weapon click. He let go.

“You know what that is, don’t you? So you’re not entirely stupid. I imagine you’d need some brains to survive out here in this Spires-forsaken land. How ironic then that you’re going to die at the hands of someone far more civilized than yourself.