gonna do to my image, you crapheads?” He once more fought his temper, finally winning. “Well … come on, then, damnit. Let’s go find this Ben Raines. I’ll show you guys how to kick the ass off him.”
Several of his people looked dubious at that last remark from Tony. But for the time being they were more afraid of Tony than of Ben Raines.
A condition that would not prevail much longer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ike worked on the old pickup all morning. Finally he threw the wrench aside in disgust. “No good, Nina. I can’t fix it. Been settin” here just too damn long.”
“So what do we do, Ike?”
“Shank’s Mare,” he told her with a quick grin.
“What?”
“We hoof it.”
“Oh, goody. Ike? When it warms up some, let’s find a stream and take a bath. I feel like I got bugs crawling around on me. I itch.”
“After wearin’ that damn stinkin’ robe, I know I got fleas hoppin’ around on me. Probably gave “em to you. You got any soap?”
“Yeah. Found some bars in that old house.”
“You ready to go?”
“Too windy to stack BB’S,” she said with a smile.
“Ain’t heard that one in years. Let’s go, little one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
In his comfortable new quarters in northern California, General Striganov smiled at Colonel Fechnor. “So a cheap hoodlum is going to challenge General Raines, da?”
“That is what our intelligence reports, General, And this Captain Willette is somehow involved with some religious group called the Ninth Order. They are rather barbaric, according to the reports we have received.”
“Aren’t all religious orders barbaric to some degree, old friend?” Striganov said with a smile. “Well, I wish Mr. Silver all the luck in the world.” He dismissed Tony’s chances of doing any real damage to Ben Raines with a curt slash of his hand. “Tell me some good news about our breeding program, Colonel. I need some cheering news.”
“Everything is progressing quite well, General. We did lose a number of women due to General Raines” raids on our breeding farms in Iowa. But we picked up more than we lost on the way west. Those women who have birthed, and those mutant females who birthed are doing quite well. And, even more good news, the offspring appear to have much more intelligence than we first hoped.”
“Good, good!” General Striganov rubbed his hands together and smiled. “That is good news indeed. We are standing on the brink of a marvelous new day for the world, Fechnor. Our doctors have solved the problem of workers for the menial tasks any civilization faces. Thus freeing the masses for positions befitting their natural abilities. I gather, since nothing to indicate it has passed my desk, your people have not met with much resistance from the minorities?”
“Very little, sir. We crushed the initial thrust upon arrival. It was as you predicted, sir. Many of those with a pure Aryan background stood back and did not interfere.”
“But, of course, they did. It’s been that way since the beginnings of time. All one has to do is study history. Equality cannot be forced upon a race. It must be earned. Just as respect must be earned, all in accordance with the existing mores of the ruling society. Only stupid people think otherwise.” He leaned back in his chair. “So much for that. I have been reluctant to view the … newborn for fear I would see monsters. How do the babies look?”
“Some of those crossbred look … well, rather hideous, General. But most appear normal, as normal as can be expected, that is, when one takes into consideration each baby has either a father or mother who is a mutant. We’ve had to destroy several, because of, ah, certain physical abnormalities. But a full ninety percent of the children-and it’s incorrect to call them children because of the rapid growth patterns-are coming along splendidly.”
“Good, good, Colonel Fechnor. Now, the people in the regions we’ve claimed as our own-discounting the minorities, of course-how are they responding to our overtures?”
“Very well, sir. We have encountered surprisingly little armed resistance. Many of the people appear to welcome our presence. Most were in rather sad shape.”
General Striganov nodded his head. He seemed to be paying only polite attention to his second in command. He seemed preoccupied with another matter. “Smoothly, then,” the general said. “Everything is progressing quite smoothly and orderly. Is that how you would sum it up?” “Yes, sir.”
Fechnor had been standing. He was waved to a chair. Tea was brought in by an aide. Both men sipped in silence for a moment, enjoying the fragrance of the tea. Striganov’s eyes touched Fechnor. “You do realize, Colonel Fechnor, that I greatly admire General Ben Raines?”
The colonel shook his head. “No, sir. I did not know that, General.”
“Oh, it’s true. I won’t deny it. What we must use force and lies and half-truths to accomplish, General Raines gains through trust and respect. Not that I have any intention of imitating any of Ben Raines’ tactics, mind you,” he added quickly. “I still feel our way is the most productive to our system of government. But Ben Raines worries me. He is going to be a constant thorn in our side. I wish the man would listen to reason. I wish he would understand that our respective forms of government could exist side by
side.” The general shook his handsome head. “Wishful thinking on my part, I suppose.”
“Our intelligence reports that Ben Raines is making no moves toward us, General.”
“He will,” Striganov said softly. “He will, old friend. Bet on it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“A large force of heavily armed men moving toward the column, General,” the forward Scout radioed to Ben.
“How many?” Ben asked.
“A hundred, at least. Looks like some of those we just kicked out of Dublin.” She took a closer look. “Yes, sir. It’s part of the same bunch, all right. But beefed up.”
“OK, Susie. Lay low until you receive further instructions.”
“Ten-four, sir. We’ll keep our heads down until I see those ol’ boys retreating with their peckers hangin’ low.”
Gale looked at the radio in the truck. She shook her head. “Jesus. Susie certainly has a way with words, doesn’t she?”
Ben grinned. “Susie’s a good ol’ Southern gal. “He keyed his mic. “All right, gang-you all heard her. Set up ambush positions. Let’s do it right the first time.”
“A good ol’ gal?” Gale questioned. “What a dubious compliment.”
Ben laughed at her.
The short column pulled off the interstate at the
first exit. It was no trick for them to hide their vehicles in the thick timber and brush that had grown wild and unattended along most of the nation’s highways for years. Ben did not worry about airborne spotters. As far as Ben knew, his Rebels and the troops of the IPF* were the only organized forces that still utilized any type of aircraft.
“Here they come,” a Rebel said, looking through binoculars. “Cars, not trucks. Long line of them. Three to four men per car. Hard-lookin’ crew. Lots of guns.”
“OK,” Ben said. “Let’s make sure we’re about to waste the right bunch. Where’s the volunteer?”
“Here, sir.” A young woman stepped forward. She had changed into jeans and civilian windbreaker. She carried a knapsack.
“Jane?” Ben asked. “You’re sure about this, now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“OK. Get into position, and be ready to act very quickly. That ditch is deep; it’ll give you good protection.” He
