Wasteland
by Becca Abbott
Part 7
They had been riding for hours, mostly in silence. Lately, the road had been getting bad, the big van bumping and jolting, coming to more frequent stops. Riki flexed his fingers behind his back and stole a look down the bench at Iason. The Blondie was handcuffed, just as Riki, but they had fettered him, too, and put a controller around his neck. Little wonder, seeing as he'd killed three of them before they'd brought him down.
They'd cut something out of Iason's head back at the shore, and it had been then that he'd fought them with such desperation. If one of their leaders hadn't threatened Riki's life, Iason might very well have escaped.
Why? Why do you care so much?
Of the dozen men who'd captured them, most were from Ceres. They had missed no opportunity to vent a lifetime of fear and resentment on the Blondie, handling him as roughly as they dared, jeering and making lewd threats. Through it all, Iason was grimly silent, blood streaking his pale, beautiful face, blue eyes fixed on the dirty metal floor.
Riki had no idea where they were going or who these people were. The three mongrels in charge shouted their men quickly into order once the doors of the transport slammed shut. Now the leaders sat at either end of the vehicle, hands on their weapons, eyes watchful.
These men were bigger than the other mongrels, and their speech was heavily accented. Their weapons were different, too. The Tanagurans had laser rifles and needlers, top of the line, but the guns the three strangers carried were bigger, bulkier, and of a design Riki had never seen before. Were they from one of the border planets, maybe? Riki had always heard there were no mongrels anywhere outside of Ceres, but that might have been a lie.
The strangers fascinated Iason, too. Now and then, the Blondie would lift his head and look at one or the other, eyes narrowed. Riki could almost see that brilliant mind worrying at the mystery.
"Who are you?" Iason had asked early on. "What do you want with us?"
The man had fixed Iason with a look that had absolutely nothing of awe or fear in it. "You'll find out soon enough, freak."
No. Those three weren't from Tanagura.
The van slowed, stopped. Riki tensed. The leader rose and walked down the narrow aisle while the other two threw open the doors. There were more men outside, shadows in the dark, standing just outside the van's wan interior lights. He heard the low murmur of voices, then behind him a gasp. Turning, he saw one of their captors with his fist buried in Iason's belly. Another grabbed the Blondie's long hair, pulling him off the bench to sprawl on the floor. Several heavy boots came down hard. It was quick, furtive and brutal, and when the leader jumped back into the van, all the men were seated quietly in place again.
The leader looked up and down the rows of scowling mongrels, then at Iason, who lay dazed where he'd fallen. "Bring him out," he said shortly. He himself reached over and hauled Riki up, propelling the pet forward. Muscles held too long in one place cramped viciously as Riki jumped to the ground. A strong hand on his arm steadied him. He gave the stranger a startled look and saw sympathy.
There was none, however, for Iason. Once again, it amused their abductors to throw him to the ground, to kick bits of gravel and dirt at his face. The leaders made no effort to stop it, nor did the four people who waited. One man was old, with white, thinning hair and a lined face. Two were younger, one with a pair of spectacles perched on a thin, hooked nose. The fourth was a woman. She stood like the soldiers, rifle slung over her back, grinning at him in a friendly fashion.
"Hey, you're cute."
"You're not bad, either," he managed.
It was very dark and he could only just make out the bulky outlines of low buildings around them. Underfoot was pavement, but it was broken, crumbled to pebbles in some places. Djinsin weed poked up through the cracks. The light of the half-moon gleamed ghostly on broken glass. No lights in windows. No sound of distant sirens or rumbling of engines. Wind sighed along the street.
Iason arrived, bloody and trembling with fury, awkward in the fetters. The old man turned to the soldier. "Good work, Minton. Jones, you and Stewart finish up and follow us back."
The men saluted. Two of the men trotted back to the van. "C'mon, you lot!" they shouted. "We're going on!"
While they all piled back into the vehicle, the old man looked Iason up and down. "Astonishing," he muttered.
"Makes my skin crawl," said the young man with the glasses.
"Who are you?" Iason asked coldly. "You aren't from this world."
The old man considered him thoughtfully. Then he reached into his pocket. The next moment, Iason went to his knees, face white and shocked. His mouth was open, but no sound came out. Riki made a small sound and stepped toward him.
"No, ya don't, honey." The woman dragged him back. "The doc here just wants to cut through some of the alpha primate bullshit, ya know?"
"You're familiar with the type four controller, I assume," the old man said. "After all, it's one of the Lamda's inventions. Minton, Hiroshi – get him up. Let's get them back to the base."
Some distance from the van, hidden by the dark, was a small airship and, like the guns these people carried, of a design different than any Riki had ever seen. Iason was dragged into the back, leg irons clanking, and pushed onto the bench. Riki got in after him, shrugging off the hands that reached to help. He went at once to sit beside Iason, moving as close as he could. No one stopped him and Iason gave him a startled, grateful look. Some of the rigidity in the Blondie's tall, powerful form eased.
The others got in and took their seats, the man, Minton, going on through the cabin to disappear into the cockpit. There was the barest shiver and they lifted off.
"I'm Doctor Crane," said the old man after a minute, "and this is my assistant, Doctor Yanagita. If you cooperate with us, no one will harm you."
"You're not from Amoi." Iason said again. It was not a question.
Crane nodded. "Correct."
"Who are you?"
"We are – family." The old man smiled. "You, I understand, are the top Elite of your society. Iason Mink, isn't it?"
Iason said nothing. The old man sighed and, a second later, Iason gasped, eyes going wide, losing color once more. His body twitched convulsively against Riki's, who stared, horrified, into that grandfatherly face. "Stop it!" the mongrel cried.
"Please understand," Crane said. "We are a small group, with limited resources. In order to achieve our goals, we may be forced to take measures we may personally find repugnant."
Iason said nothing, only shivered beside Riki and stared back at the man.
"You talk a lot," said Riki angrily, "but you don't say anything, Family! Shit. You're no family of mine!"
"Ah, but we are – well of yours, at any rate. I'll admit that the biological relationship between humanity and this creature, on the other hand, is a bit more tenuous."
Iason said something under his breath. Riki wished his hands were free so he could wipe the blood from that drawn face.
"What's your relationship to the Elite?" the old man asked.
Riki opened his mouth, then looked at Iason. Blue eyes, wide and stark, were fixed on the floor. Iason would not look at him. "Pet," he said.
The fine mouth tightened and Iason bowed his head.
"What?" The old man looked appalled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. "Minton! Get in here! NOW!"
The cockpit door flew open as the woman lurched to her feet. Riki, heart in his mouth, stared into the barrels of the two big guns.
"He's says he's a pet," said the old man shortly. "Check it out."
"But ain't he a mongrel?" the woman asked. She jabbed the gun in Riki's face. Iason swore and started to get up, but Crane must have used the controller again, because the Blondie fell back onto the bench with a strangled cry.
"Stand up, pretty boy," the woman advised.
Riki did so, shaking. Minton came around and unfastened Riki's jeans, hauling them down around his thighs.
"Shit," said the woman. "The fucking freaks!" Her gun moved to Iason.
The doctor leaned forward and, taking a handful of the long, fair hair, jerked Iason's head up. "Release it or we cut it off."
"Like he cares," growled Minton.
A muscle leapt in Iason's jaw. Riki swallowed hard, remembering Dana Bahn, remembering the knife and the pain. "Iason..."
"Release 97A-C01-A91," said the Blondie quietly.
The ring loosened and fell to the cabin floor. Crane swept it up and tossed it to Hiroshi. The younger man produced a box of some dark metal and threw the ring into that. He looked pleased. Then Minton pulled Riki's pants back up and refastened them. Giving Riki a pat on the shoulder, he returned to the cockpit. Riki fell back onto the bench. Iason moved away so there was no longer contact between them.
"Iason?"
The Blondie shook his head and wouldn't look at Riki. The woman snorted. "You know," she said. "You don't have to suck up to the freak anymore, buddy. Hiroshi's got the friggin' ring. Big Mamma Jupiter ain't comin' and her little boy here can kiss your mongrel ass."
"Jelly!" the doctor said sharply.
She rolled her eyes but subsided. Riki tried to catch the Blondie's eye, but Iason resolutely avoided him. Mouth set and gaze fixed on the floor, he maintained a wary silence.
They flew on. Like the van, the aircraft had no windows, no way to judge speed or distance. After awhile, Riki dozed off, too tired to care what lay ahead. He woke, his head on Iason's shoulder, when the subliminal hum of the transport's engine stopped. Sitting up, he realized they were on the ground and taxiing forward. Finally, the ship stopped.
They got out in a garage, dusty and rundown. Riki saw light leaking through the cracks in the walls. Jelly and Minton dragged Iason out. Riki heard the rattle of the chains behind him as he followed the doctor and Hiroshi into an elevator and down.
Riki still didn't know where they were, but he had his suspicions. The desolation and condition of the ruins suggested the Wasteland and from the length of their ride, pretty far into it. Long abandoned, old Tanagura lay just to the south of Ceres, following the curve of the coast until it met the barren reaches of the Sera No desert. It had been mankind's first foothold on Amoi. After Jupiter had assumed control, the computer had moved the human population north into the Tanagura of today. With little water, no food, no power, the abandoned city became home to rats and cockroaches – and the human equivalent.
The elevator stopped. The doors opened smoothly. Ahead lay a dingy corridor with lights strung in cables along the ceiling. Dr. Crane took the lead, stopping in front of a door. He knocked sharply, then opened it. Riki went in, closely flanked by Hiroshi and Minton. Jelly and Iason brought up the rear. Riki twisted around. Iason held his gaze a moment. Then Jelly muttered something and shoved the Blondie between the shoulders, sending him stumbling and clanking forward. Iason clenched his teeth and shot her a look of pure hatred. She smirked back.
"So," came a cool voice from the desk dominating the small office. Riki looked around. A woman, ethereally lovely, sat there, hands folded on the gleaming wood before her. Blond hair the color of Iason's was swept up and pinned to the top of her lovely head. "Welcome to Operation Olympus. My name is Eleanor Juno."
Riki heard a strangled noise from Iason. The Blondie was staring at the woman, the color of ash. "Jupiter?" he whispered.