The giant’s eyelids fluttered. “Peckers… are superfluous.”

  “They’re what?” Lynx said.

  “Not essential,” the Superior stated wearily.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Lynx asked. “Are you dyin’?”

  “Excessive dehydration,” the Superior stated. “My fluid level is critical.

  You severed one of the major arteries from my Heinlein.”

  “Your what?” Lynx said.

  The Superior’s chin dropped onto his chest.

  “Don’t pass out on me, turkey!” Lynx declared.

  The giant’s eyes closed, then partially opened. “Unable to maintain sentience,” he stated.

  Lynx grabbed the silver man’s right leg and shook it. “Don’t crap out yet! You need to tell me where Blade and Hickok are being held? What happened to ’em?”

  The Superior was on the verge of collapsing. “You want the two Warriors?”

  “You bet your ass we do!” Lynx asserted. “Where are they? Do you know?”

  The Superior nodded. “Containment Section.”

  “Containment? Where is it?” Lynx probed.

  “Sublevels below Intelligence,” the Superior revealed, then slumped into unconsciousness, his huge form slipping toward the floor.

  Lynx stepped aside as the giant slid from the console and sprawled forward. The silver man’s forehead rested on the foot of the center contour chair. “At least he told us a little,” Lynx commented.

  “He did?” Ferret said. “How do you know we can trust what he said?

  How do you know he wasn’t lying through his teeth?”

  Lynx shrugged. “Just a hunch, is all. I think we can believe him. These bozos don’t impress me as the lyin’ kind.”

  Ferret smirked. “Is that your professional assessment?”

  “Call it whatever you want,” Lynx said. “We’ve got to find this Containment Section and free Blade and Hickok.”

  “What about this Superior, yes?” Gremlin queried.

  “We’ll stuff him in one of the closets,” Lynx said.

  “And what if he’s missed?” Ferret asked. “What if someone comes looking for him and finds him?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Lynx said. “We haven’t got any choice. We can’t stay here.”

  Gremlin stared at the Superior’s crotch. “He really does not have a penis, no?”

  “No,” Lynx confirmed.

  “Most unusual, yes?” Gremlin mentioned.

  “It’s friggin’ weird,” Lynx remarked. “Come on. Give me a hand.”

  Together, the three mutants moved the Superior to one of the cockpit compartments and crammed his bulk inside. Lynx propped the Superior against the rear wall, bending the giant’s legs perpendicular to the torso.

  “There! That should do it!” Lynx said. He closed the compartment door and led the way toward the exit hatch.

  “How are we going to find the Containment Section?” Ferret wanted to know.

  “We’ll find it,” Lynx vowed. “Trust me.”

  “I wish you’d quit saying that,” Ferret muttered.

  They were a yard from the exit door when Lynx abruptly halted, his features rippling in surprise.

  “What is wrong, yes?” Gremlin asked.

  “Those Superiors…” Lynx said slowly, his brow creasing in perplexity.

  “What about them?” Ferret responded.

  “They ain’t go no peckers,” Lynx stated.

  “Yeah. So?” Ferret said.

  Lynx glanced at his companions. “So how the hell do they take a leak?”

  Chapter Six

  Blade came awake with a painful start, his head throbbing, his eyes smarting as a bright light caused him to squint. He remembered the three silver men, and he surveyed his surroundings uncertainly, a dozen questions flooding his mind. What had happened? Where was he? Why had the three silver men jumped him? What was this all about? And, most importantly, why couldn’t he move?

  A muted humming became audible.

  Blade found himself in a square room, ten feet by ten feet. He was the only occupant. The walls, ceiling, and floor were composed of a white, plastic-like substance. A large rectangular light overhead supplied ample illumination. The room was devoid of furniture.

  What was going on?

  Blade, to his astonishment, discovered he was erect, on his feet in the middle of the room, fully clothed except for his Bowies. His muscular arms were draped at his sides. He tried moving his hands, but failed. Next he attempted to shuffle his legs, but they refused to respond. To his chagrin, he realized his entire body was immobile, with the notable exclusion of his eyes. By focusing all of his attention, he could shift his eyes up and down, and from one side to the other. But the range of movement was slight, compounding his budding frustration.

  Had the silver men drugged him?

  Blade peered to the right, then the left. The humming seemed to be coming from the walls, emanating from black bubbles positioned in the middle of the white wall to his right and the wall to his left.

  What purpose did those black bubbles serve?

  Blade was at a loss to explain his predicament. The identity of the silver men was a complete mystery. Why had they abducted him? he wondered.

  Did they pose a threat to the Home, to the Family? His speculation was unexpectedly terminated as an entrance panel in front of him opened with a dinstinct hiss, gliding to the left.

  A woman stood framed in the doorway. A most remarkable woman.

  She wore a blue dress, the garment scarcely covering her protruding cleavage and exposing her shapely legs up to her thighs. Her narrow lavender eyes glared at him. She had yellow, scaly skin, and long black hair.

  Blade endeavored to speak, to move his lips, to address her, but his mouth wouldn’t budge.

  The woman noticed his effort. She smiled, a particularly wicked expression, and advanced several paces into the room. “The mighty Blade!” she taunted him. “And he can’t even talk!”

  Blade studied the woman, striving to place her, but he knew he’d never laid eyes on her before in his life.

  “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” the woman demanded.

  Blade could only stare.

  The woman glanced at the black bubbles, then at the towering, brooding man. “How does it feel to be helpless? You don’t like it, do you?

  The great Warrior! And you can’t even lift your little finger!” She threw back her head and laughed.

  Blade waited for the woman to continue.

  “Don’t you know me?” the woman asked.

  Blade’s gaze probed her from head to toe.

  “I can see you don’t,” the woman stated. “But then, why should you? We’ve never met. But I know who you are. I know all about you, you son of a bitch!” Her features twisted, became hateful. “I know you killed the man I loved! I know you for the bastard you are, Blade! So it’s only fair you know who I am.” She paused, straightened proudly. “I’m Clarissa!”

  Blade suddenly recalled one of the silver men mentioning that name, but it didn’t ring a bell.

  Clarissa took another step toward him, but she was careful not to get too close. “Clarissa! My name might not mean anything to you, you prick! But I know a name that will. The Doktor!”

  Blade’s eyes widened. The Doktor? The nefarious scientist responsible for countless atrocities? For killing innocent children to further his longevity? For slaughtering thousands, perhaps millions? The demented fiend who’d tried to eradicate the Family? Who’d created genetic deviates to do his bidding, to slay on command?

  “You remember the Doktor!” Clarissa said bitterly. “The gentlest man who ever walked this earth! The man whose intellect eclipsed all others!

  The man who wanted to improve this world, who devoted his genius to establishing order and peace! You remember him, because you’re the one who killed him!” Clarissa’s voice rose, her tone trembling from her violent emotions. She shook her right fist at the Warrior. “You killed the only man I ever loved! The best man who ever lived! And you’re going to pay for what you did!” she gloated.

  Insight dawned. Blade scrutinized the woman’s face, detecting a hint of madness, and perceived she was responsible for his capture.

  “I’m the one who had you brought here!” Clarissa boasted, confirming his suspicion. “I convinced Primator it was necessary!”

  Primator? Who—or what—was this Primator?

  “But I never expected to get a bonus!” Clarissa went on. “Hickok’s death will be an added treat.”

  Hickok? Blade futilely attempted to raise his arms. What was that about Hickok?

  “Hickok tried to save you,” Clarissa commented. “But he was caught, just like you. He’s in the next room.” She jerked her left hand to the left.

  “You’ll go up before Primator together. Don’t worry, though. You two will have company. I’ll be there!” She tittered.

  Blade’s mind was in turmoil. The news of Hickok’s capture was profoundly disturbing.

  Clarissa turned to depart, then hesitated. “I’d imagine you have a lot of questions,” she said mockingly. “Where you are, for instance? And what’s in store for you? Am I right?” She chuckled. “Of course I’m right.” She moved to the doorway. “But I’m not about to tell you. I want you to be surprised. I want to see your face when Primator announces your fate.”

  Blade wished he could reach out and knock her senseless. “You may be lucky,” Clarissa said over her right shoulder. “Primator may relegate you to Servile status. You might be neutered, but at least you’d be alive.” She winked, then walked off laughing. The door hissed shut.

  Blade was left with his thoughts and the continuous humming of the black bubbles.

  Chapter Seven

  “Where are we, yes?” Gremlin asked in awe, gaping at the sight before them.

  “It certainly isn’t Oz,” Ferret mentioned.

  “Oz?” Lynx repeated.

  “A fictional land I read about in one of the books in the Family library,” Ferret disclosed. “You should read the book sometime. I think you’d like it.”

  “What’s it about?” Lynx inquired.

  “It’s about this girl and her dog,” Ferret revealed. “They arc transported by a tornado to the mystical land of Oz, where they encounter witches and munchkins and wizards and magical slippers.”

  “Magical slippers?” Lynx reiterated.

  “And a tin man, a talking scarecrow, and a cowardly lion,” Ferret explained.

  “A cowardly lion?” Lynx said skeptically.

  “Yeah. It was a terrific book,” Ferret said. “You really should read it.”

  “Weren’t you the one who said I should read that other book, the one about Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail?” Lynx inquired.

  “I figured you might learn something from it,” Ferret commented.

  “I did,” Lynx said.

  “Oh? What?” Ferret responded.

  “Never, ever to read another book you recommend,” Lynx stated.

  “Please!” Gremlin interrupted. “Forget about your books, yes? There are more important matters, no? Like, where are we, yes?” He waved his right arm to encompass the panorama surrounding them.

  They were outside the huge hangar. They’d waited inside the aircraft until the coast was clear, then darted behind a nearby stack of crates.

  From there, they’d dashed through a side door onto a loading dock covered with more crates and boxes. Now, as they crouched in concealment in back of a pile of boxes, they gazed at the city lights stretching to the far horizon in rapt fascination.

  “It sure ain’t Denver,” Lynx deduced. “There are too many lights, too many big buildings. And they all look so new!” he marveled.

  “Look at all the skyscrapers!” Ferret declared.

  “Maybe we’re in Chicago,” Lynx proposed. “Blade told us about the people there, the Technics. They’re supposed to have a real advanced city.”

  “This doesn’t look like Blade’s description of Chicago,” Ferret said, disagreeing. “And Blade didn’t see any of those Superior types in Chicago.”

  Gremlin was deliberating on the immensity of the city. “How will we find Blade and Hickok out there, yes? The city is too large, no?”

  “We’ll find ’em,” Lynx promised.

  “Look!” Ferret whispered, pointing.

  The north end of the loading dock terminated in a sloping ramp, and the ramp was a mere ten feet from their hiding place. Approaching from the base of the ramp was a man in orange overalls and an orange cap.

  “He’s normal-sized!” Ferret said. “He must be human.”

  “Look at that funny doodad on his forehead,” Lynx stated.

  The loading dock and the ramp were illuminated by lamps affixed to the hangar walls at 30-foot intervals. In the center of the advancing man’s forehead, clearly visible, reflecting the light, was a glistening silver circle.

  “What do we do, yes?” Gremlin queried anxiously.

  Lynx motioned for them to drop from sight. “Leave it to me,” he advised.

  They heard the man’s footsteps as he reached the top of the loading dock, then paused. “Now where’s that damn consignment?” the man mumbled.

  Lynx cautiously eased his head above the nearest box.

  The man in orange was eight feet away, examining the crates and boxes, idly scratching his pointed chin.

  Lynx scanned the ramp to insure the man was alone. No one else was in sight.

  “Ahhhh! There!” The man exclaimed, and walked toward some crates to his right.

  Lynx vaulted over the box screening him, his padded feet landing noiselessly on the cement dock. He took three supple strides and sprang, his arms encircling the man’s ankles, his momentum bearing the startled human to the cement.

  “What the hell!” the man in orange blurted, and suddenly steely fingers were fastened to his throat, and a pair of feral green orbs blazed into his own brown eyes.

  “Don’t move, bub!” Lynx threatened. “Or I’ll tear your neck open!”

  The man in orange froze, petrified.

  Ferret and Gremlin quickly raced to join Lynx.

  “Give me a hand,” Lynx directed, and the trio lifted the human and carted him to their hiding place.

  The man in orange gawked as they deposited him on the cement, prone on his back, the cat-man still gripping his throat.

  Lynx leaned forward until his nose was almost touching the human’s.

  “I’m gonna let go. But you’d better not squawk, if you know what’s good for you! Do you understand?”

  The man in orange nodded. He sported a mustache and shallow cheeks.

  Lynx released his hold, then knelt on the man’s chest. “What’s your name?” he demanded.

  “Barney,” the man blurted out, panic-stricken. “Barney 137496.”

  “137496?” Lynx said. “What’s that?”

  Barney seemed confused by the question. “How do you mean?” he replied nervously.

  “What’s the number for? I asked your name,” Lynx stated.

  “But that is my name!” Barney stressed. “Barney 137496.”

  “Your last name is a number?” Lynx queried.

  “Of course,” Barney answered, bewildered. “Every Servile has an I.D. number.”

  “Servile? What’s a Servile?” Lynx interrogated the human.

  Barney was obviously flabbergasted by the cat-man’s ignorance. “You don’t know what a Servile is? Where are you from?”

  Lynx’s tone hardened. “I’ll ask the questions, pal. What’s a Servile?”

  “All the workers are Serviles,” Barney replied. “All the human workers, that is.”

  “What other kind of workers are there around here?” Lynx asked.

  “There are mutants, like you guys, and…” Barney began, then stopped as the cat-man voiced a trilling sound.

  “Mutants like us?” Lynx said. “There are mutants here like us?”

  “Sure,” Barney declared. “Lots of them. But they’re in a class all by themselves. They’re never called Serviles.”

  Lynx glanced at Ferret and Gremlin. If there were other mutants in this strange city, where had they come from? The mutations prevalent since World War III were derived from three sources. The first type, the wild mutations found everywhere, were deformed creatures produced by the saturation of the environment with incredible amounts of gene-altering radiation. The second sort, labeled mutates by the Family, were former mammals, reptiles, or amphibians, transformed into pus-covered monstrosities by the chemical toxins unleashed during the war and still prevalent in the environmental chain. And the third form, of which Lynx, Ferret and Gremlin were prime examples, had been deliberately developed in the laboratory by the scientists like the Doktor, genetic engineers intent on propagating new species. But so far as Lynx knew, all of the Doktor’s genetic creations had perished. If there were indeed mutants in this city, how had they been produced? Lynx looked at Barney. “What do you call these mutants?”

  Barney did a double take. “Mutants,” he said.

  Ferret snickered.

  “Where do the mutants come from?” Lynx inquire.

  “From the D.G. Section,” Barney revealed.

  “What’s the D.G. Section?” Lynx wanted to know.

  “Deviate Generation Section,” Barney elaborated. “Over in Science.”

  Lynx reflected for a moment. He reached out and tapped the silver circle in the middle of Barney’s forehead. “What do you call this gizmo?”

  “It’s my O.D.,” Barney said.

  “O.D.?” Lynx repeated quizzically.

  “Orwell Disk,” Barney told them.

  “What’s it for?” Lynx queried.

  “Every Servile has one,” Barney elucidated. “The mutants too. The Superiors use them to keep tabs on us. They can monitor our activities with them.”

  Lynx straightened, frowning. He recalled the collars the Doktor had utilized to keep his Genetic Research Division in line. Every mutant the Doktor had developed in his lab had been required to wear the metal collars, collars containing sophisticated electronic circuitry enabling the Doktor to instantly know the location of his test-tube creatures, and to eavesdrop on their conversations. “Can the Superiors hear what you’re sayin’ with that Orwell Disk?” he asked Barney.

 

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