David L. Robbins - Endworld 12 - Houston Run

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2024-12-23 0 0 412.12KB 209 页 5.9玖币
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Houston Run
#12 in the Endworld series
David Robbins
Chapter One
A bright red pinpoint of light appeared in the center of the Clarke
Model 2001 Computer, the navigational console for the Klinecraft Hover
jet.
"One hundred miles and closing," AS-1 announced. He occupied the
middle seat in front of the control console, his seven-foot frame erect in
his chair, his blue orbs scanning the digital display above the red light.
"Ready for target identification and isolation," IM-97 declared from his
cushioned green seat to the right of AS-1.
In the contoured chair to the left, OV-3 flicked a silver toggle switch on
the large console and a square screen before him brightened. His right
hand moved across a bank of typing keys below the seven-inch-wide
screen, his fingers stabbing individual letters with astonishing rapidity.
"ACTIVATED" flashed onto the screen in black block letters.
OV-3 typed his request into the computer. As a last-minute addition to
the retrieval crew, he wanted to review the target data once again.
"SUBJECT: BLADE," the Clarke responded at the top of the screen, and
immediately the display filled with the subject's background and
peripheral data. OV-3 scanned the material.
Blade is the current head of the Warriors, the elite combat unit
responsible for the security of the Home and the preservation of the
Family. (Correlation: see Family & Home.) He is believed to be responsible
for terminating the Doktor. Intelligence also indicates Blade terminated
Samuel II. Recent activites include confrontations with the Technics in
Chicago, and with the Soviets in Philadelphia. This subject is considered
to be extremely dangerous.
While all of the Warriors are known to be skilled fighters, many have
specialized in certain weapons. Blade is an expert with knives, particularly
the large type referred to as the Bowie knife. He invariably carries two
such knives, in addition to whatever other arms he might require for
missions outside the Home. Intelligence has confirmed his use of a
Commando Arms Carbine on several occasions.
Physical Characteristics: Intelligence has not acquired a photograph, and
the following is based on personal descriptions. Height: approaching seven
feet. Weight: estimated between 220-260. Build: exceptionally strong
biological organism. Described as "all muscle from head to toe" by one
witness. Hair: dark. Worn medium length. Eyes: gray. Distinguishing
marks: none known. Marital status: married to Family member named
Jenny. One son, Gabriel. END OF REPORT.
OV-3 pursed his thin lips. The file on Blade was unusually thin. His
hands raced over the keys, accessing the correlative material.
SUBJECT: FAMILY.
The Family resides in a walled compound in northwestern Minnesota.
(Correlation: see Home.) Androxia has not established diplomatic
relations with the Family. Evolutionary Scale Rating; 4. Industry: none.
The Family's economy is broadly communal. Stewardship is vested in the
oldest members, designated as Elders. These Elders are responsible for the
Family's educational system and for formulating formal Family policy.
One Family member is chosen as Leader of the entire Family. Exact
Family membership is unknown, but Intelligence believes that it is less
than one hundred. Children are reared in close-knit family units. The
Family is socially primitive and scientifically ignorant.
History: Little is known. Most members are believed to he the descendents
of a survivalist group.
Disposition: Primator has decreed their eventual subjugation and
assimilation into the genetically controlled work pool once Androxia has
assumed ascendancy. Rectification will be necessary. The Family is known
to believe in the fallacious concept of "love," and actively promotes belief
in a non-existent "Spirit" source and sustainer. END OF REPORT.
OV-3 read the last section twice. Such degenerates deserved to be
exterminated. Why would Primator deal so mercifully with these
biological organisms? The genetics might be useful for menial functions,
but otherwise they were hopeless. He stared at the monitor. The
information on the Family as a whole, like that on Blade, was singularly
sparse. He decided to punch up the report on the Home, and promptly did
so.
SUBJECT: THE HOME.
The Home is a thirty-acre walled compound in northwestern Minnesota,
near Lake Bronson State Park. Exact date of construction is unknown, but
it is believed to have been built over one hundred years ago, just prior to
the outbreak of World War III. The compound is surrounded by
20-foot-high brick walls. An interior moat provides additional protection
from potentially hostile forces. Entrance is afforded by a drawbridge
situated in the middle of the west wall. The eastern half of the compound
is maintained in a natural state or utilized for agricultural purposes. The
western half is devoted to socialization. Intelligence has not mapped the
interior.
The Home is defended by 12 to 15 (estimates vary) Warriors. These
Warriors are highly trained professionals. They are divided into Triads.
Known Triads: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Omega. There may be more.
Known Warriors: Blade, Hickok, Geronimo, and Yama. (Correlation: see
individual Warriors.)
Disposition: Primator has decreed destruction after subjugation of
occupants. Prominence Rating: 0. END OF REPORT.
OV-3 glanced at AS-1. "Intelligence has not compiled an adequate file
on our target," he stated.
AS-1, his attention on the 2001 console, nodded. "Did you view the data
on the Home?" he asked.
"Affirmative," OV-3 replied.
"And did you note the Prominence Rating?" AS-1 inquired.
"A zero," OV-3 noted.
"Which explains our lack of information," AS-1 said. "The Family is so
low on the list, they were deemed inconsequential. Intelligence has been
concentrating on the primaries, on the Technics, the Soviets, and the
Civilized Zone."
"I understand that," OV-3 commented. "I do not understand why we
are expending precious fuel to fly to a small, inconsequential outpost
merely to retrieve one organism."
"Primator wants this organism," AS-1 mentioned.
"Did Primator elaborate on his rationale?" OV-3 asked.
"No," AS-1 responded.
"I can supply a secondary reason," IM-97 chimed in.
"What is it?" OV-3 questioned.
"Clarissa," IM-97 revealed.
OV-3 gazed out the canopy of the Klinecraft Hoverjet at the stars in the
night sky. "Most odd," he remarked. "What does Clarissa want with this
organism?"
AS-1 shook his head. "I was not told."
"Nor was I," IM-97 said. "But I do know Clarissa petitioned Primator
for the organism, and Primator assented."
AS-1 leaned over the console. "Initiate target identification and
isolation," he ordered.
"Engaged," IM-97 said, and pressed a white button near his right hand.
A small screen, laced with an overlaid grid, hummed and glowed with a
diffuse pink light.
AS-1 studied the digital display above the red light. "Ten miles to
target," he informed the others.
"What if this Blade resists?" OV-3 inquired.
"We take him alive," AS-1 said. "Primator was specific in his
instructions. Any harm to the organism will result in dismantlement."
"And if the other Warriors interfere?" OV-3 probed.
"Any intervention is to be summarily negated," AS-1 stated.
"Understood," OV-3 said.
"Commencing deceleration," AS-1 declared.
The Klinecraft Hoverjet slowed to a mere fraction of its cruising speed.
"Two miles to target," AS-1 told them.
OV-3 reached over and depressed a brown lever. "External lights
extinguished."
"Activating Stealth Mode," AS-1 stated, and punched a black button. In
the Stealth Mode, the Hoverjet's engine operated with a muted whine
detectable for a range of only 25 yards.
IM-97 peered at the illuminated grid. The Burroughs Infra-Sensor
Module, an optional attachment on the 2001 Computer, required several
minutes to attain peak functional capability. He rested his hands on a pair
of knobs below the grid, waiting for the word from AS-1.
The Hoverjet continued to wing slowly toward their destination. A
minute passed in relative silence. Two minutes.
AS-1, his eyes locked on the digital display, nodded. "We are over the
south wall."
"Infrared operational," IM-97 said, twisting the knob in his left hand.
Dozens of red blips materialized on the grid. "Multiple possibles within
range."
"Adjust the sensors," AS-1 directed, "Scan for physical dimensions,
respiratory rate, and gross bulk. Our target is one of the few humans our
size. He should literally stand out head and shoulders above the rest."
"Scanning," IM-97 responded.
With AS-1 handling the maneuvering of the Klinecraft, and IM-97
immersed in isolating their target, OV-3 was left with nothing to do. He
elected to maximize his time by learning additional details concerning the
Family. His fingers flew over the keys, and a moment later the name of
another known Warrior appeared on the screen.
SUBJECT: HICKOK.
Hickok is another Warrior in the Family. (Correlation: see Home &
Family.) Hickok and two other Warriors, Blade and Geronimo, are
believed to constitute one of the Triads comprising the Warrior class. The
name of their Triad has not been ascertained.
Hickok is known to specialize in the use of Colt Python revolvers. He is an
expert marksman with handguns and rifles. Considered extremely
dangerous.
Little else is known about this organism. His marital status is unknown,
although one unconfirmed report claims he is married to a Warrior
woman named Sherry and has one young son. Height: about six feet.
Weight: estimated at 180-190. Build: lean. Hair: blond. Worn long. Also
has a blond mustache. Eyes: blue. Distinguishing marks: none known.
END OF REPORT.
OV-3 looked at AS-1. "I trust Intelligence will upgrade the files on the
Family in the near future."
"If Primator so wills," AS-1 answered. "Evidently, the Doktor had
accumulated an extensive file on the Family and the Warriors, but it was
destroyed when his headquarters was obliterated. Samuel II also kept a
complete dossier on them, but our spy has not been able to locate it. After
Samuel II's death, his successor, the new President of the Civilized Zone,
confiscated all of Samuel II's files. This President Toland allows only
trusted subordinates to view the files."
"Where did Intelligence acquire our information?" OV-3 asked.
"Here and there," AS-1 replied. "Clarissa provided much of it from her
memory. Some of it was obtained from monitored Soviet and Technic
broadcasts. The rest came from miscellaneous minor sources. Our data on
the Family is far from complete."
"That's an understatement," OV-3 commented.
IM-97 suddenly interrupted. "We have him," he declared.
"You have isolated the target?" AS-1 inquired.
"Affirmative," IM-97 affirmed. "And he has unwittingly made our
retrieval easier."
"Explain," AS-1 said.
"The Infra-Sensor reveals the majority of the Family is congregated in
the western section of their Home," IM-97 elaborated. "But two
individuals are in the southeast quadrant. One of them must be our
target. He measures out at seven feet tall and weighs 240."
"There are just two of them?" AS-1 asked.
"Just two," IM-97 confirmed.
AS-1 stared at the digital display. The Hoverjet was hovering 200 yards
above the surface. He angled the Klinecraft in the direction of the pair in
the southeast quadrant. "Parabolic," he ordered.
OV-3 straightened, switching a toggle to his left and gripping a round
lever in his right hand. "Parabolic activated."
The Hoverjet drifted toward the southeast quadrant.
Sounds began emanating from a four-inch speaker mounted on the
console near OV-3. Leaves rustling. The wind whispering.
OV-3 slowly moved the round lever back and forth, up and down,
searching.
"… be a piece of cake," a male voice abruptly filled the cockpit.
"You think so?" responded a lower, more resonant speaker.
"I may have them," OV-3 said.
"They are the only ones in that area," IM-97 averred. "It must be them."
"I've whipped your butt two times so far, pard," the first voice stated.
"We'll try one more time," the speaker with the low tone remarked.
"Then can we call it quits for the night?" asked the first man. "I
promised my missus I'd be home to tuck Ringo in. That young'un will be
traumatized if his fearless papa ain't there to kiss him nighty-night."
The man with the low voice chuckled. "Sure, Hickok. This will be our
last one for tonight."
"Thanks, Blade," Hickok said.
"We have him," AS-1 remarked.
"Do we take him now?" OV-3 queried.
"We will wait for a better opportunity," AS-1 said. "We do not want to
arouse any suspicions. We might be able to take him when he's alone."
"… don't see why the blazes we have to do this anyway!" Hickok was
saying.
"Practice makes perfect," Blade responded.
"After all we've been through," Hickok muttered, "we still got to play
these games!"
"They're not games, and you know it," Blade corrected him. "These
night drills are essential to our readiness."
"Okay. I get your drift. And I don't need no lecture," Hickok said. "Let's
get this blamed nonsense over with, so we can mosey on back, tuck in the
young'uns, and rustle up some grub."
"I'll be the stalker this time," Blade said.
"Fine by me," Hickok replied.
"Mosey? Grub?" AS-1 repeated, puzzled. "This Hickok employs a
peculiar dialect."
"All biological organisms are strange," OV-3 asserted.
"Blade is moving away from Hickok," IM-97 disclosed, his eyes glued to
the grid.
"What are they doing?" OV-3 asked.
"Whatever it is," AS-1 speculated, "it has something to do with their
Warrior training."
"I have a strange reading here," IM-97 announced, his interest piqued
by a trio of bluish-red blips on the grid.
"What sort of reading?" AS-1 demanded.
"I'm picking up all of the Family members within range," IM-97
replied. "As expected, they all register red."
"All bipedal humanoids register red," AS-1 remarked.
"True," IM-97 conceded. "But I'm also registering three bluish-red life
readings, about one hundred yards to the northwest."
AS-1 glanced at IM-97. "Bluish-red?"
"See for yourself," IM-97 said, waving his right hand toward the blips.
AS-1 bent to the right and peered at the grid. "But blue is for organisms
lower than human, for the animal life, the mammals and reptiles and
such."
"I know," IM-97 agreed. "Which is what makes these three so strange."
"They appear to be stationary," AS-1 observed.
"They are," IM-97 confirmed.
"Pulse rate?" AS-1 inquired.
IM-97 turned the right-hand knob below the grid, then studied the
small figures appearing at the bottom of the screen. "Definitely not
human."
AS-1 reflected for a moment. "The Burroughs unit must be
malfunctioning. We know the Family maintains this half of their Home in
a natural state. Perhaps the unit has detected several horses or deer and is
registering a composite signal. You know how precise the calibration must
be on these units. Did you calibrate it yourself?"
"No," iM-97 answered. "The craft was serviced by the technicians
before our departure."
"They may have miscalibrated," AS-1 stated. "Concentrate on Blade and
Hickok. We must monitor them and wait for Hickok to leave, or for them
to separate."
"And then we pounce?" OV-3 interjected.
"And then we pounce," AS-1 affirmed.
Chapter Two
Blade circled to the west, his black leather vest and green fatigue pants
blending into the inky vegetation. His Bowies snuggled in their sheaths,
one on each broad hip. The night air was cool, and there was a faint
breeze from the west. His massive muscles rippled as he skirted a tree and
reached a low rise. He crouched, grinning. The longer he took, the more
irritated Hickok would become, and he needed an edge if he was to beat
the gunman the third time around. The exercise was simple, yet markedly
effective. One of the Warriors, in this case Hickok, acted as if he was on
guard duty, standing or strolling in the open, alert for any attack. Blade's
task was to sneak up on the gunfighter undetected. If he succeeded, he
won. If Hickok heard him or spotted him, the gunman would win.
Seemingly childish, the maneuver served to sharpen their senses. It was
one of many exercises designed to keep all of the Warriors at peak
effeciency. In addition to comprehensive weaponry training and advanced
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