Gremlin was rubbing the fingers of his left hand over a scar on his neck.
“Want to thank you again, yes? For removing the collar from Gremlin and giving me freedom. Can’t thank you enough, no?”
According to the story imparted to Blade in Montana, the collars were the Doktor’s effective technique of compelling compliance, of forcing his genetic deviants to obey his commands. The collars evidently contained highly sophisticated electronic gadgetry linked to an orbiting satellite.
They permitted the Doktor to monitor the G.R.D.’s and, if they violated his edicts or incurred his displeasure, to electrocute them on the spot.
“Can you tell me more?” Blade asked. “I…” He stopped, hearing footsteps behind them.
In unison, Gremlin and Blade glanced over their respective shoulders.
Sherry, attired in a newly repaired pair of faded jeans and a clean white blouse, ran up to them. “Morning,” she smiled. “I saw you out here and wanted a word with you. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Not interrupting, yes?” Gremlin replied. “Gremlin will leave.”
“No need for that,” Sherry said, grabbing his right wrist. “What I have to say to Blade isn’t private. You can stay.”
“What’s up?” Blade queried.
“Have you made your decisions about the new Warriors yet?” Sherry inquired.
“Not yet,” Blade told her. “But soon. Why?”
They were idly sauntering due east.
“Because Hickok and I have reached an agreement. He may not be too crazy about the idea, but he won’t oppose my becoming a Warrior if that’s what I really want, and it is. But we have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Blade asked.
Sherry was watching Blade’s face closely, attempting to assess his reaction. “Candidates for Warrior status usually have sponsors. Hickok previously agreed to sponsor Shane and he won’t renege on his word, which leaves me high and dry. Unless you’ll help.”
“How can I…” Blade began, then saw what she was getting at.
“I want you to sponsor me before the Elders,” Sherry declared.
“I don’t know…” Blade hedged.
“Why not?” Sherry demanded. “Have you already said you’d sponsor someone else?”
“No…”
“You don’t believe women make good Warriors?” Sherry pressed him.
“That isn’t it…”
“Then what? Because I’m an outsider?”
“A Warrior from outside the Family would set a precedent,” Blade admitted, “but it’s not a major stumbling block.”
“Then how about it?”
Blade stopped and faced her. “It’s not possible.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the one who must make the final recommendations to Plato and the Elders,” Blade stated. “I can’t express any favoritism whatsoever. If I sponsored you, it might reflect badly on the other candidates.”
Sherry’s disappointment was conveyed in her quavering voice. “But I’ll never have a chance if I don’t have a sponsor! Hickok is going to stand up before the Elders in council and vouch for Shane. All the candidates will have sponsors except me. I’ll never be picked!”
“There is a way out,” Blade suggested.
“What?” Sherry eagerly inquired, her countenance lighting up.
“Find another sponsor,” Blade advised her.
“Another sponsor? Who? I don’t know anyone else here all that well.”
She frowned, her hopes prematurely dashed.
“Try Rikki.”
“Rikki-Tikki-Tavi? I’ve only talked to him once or twice. What makes you think he’ll sponsor me?” Sherry asked doubtfully.
“Trust me.”
Now it was her turn to balk. “I don’t know…”
“Well, if you won’t ask Rikki, then try Yama,” Blade proposed.
“Yama? Are you nuts? He scares me!”
Blade shrugged, grinning. “It’s up to you. If you want to become a Warrior badly enough, you’ll ask one of them to sponsor you.”
Sherry was about to comment when her gaze strayed past Blade. Her green eyes unexpectedly widened, her expression registering shock.
Blade spun, his hands on his Bowie handles.
There were two of them, standing at the edge of the trees only ten feet off. A huge blue thing and a short furry thing.
Gremlin suddenly hissed, sounding enraged. “You!”
“Yeah, Gremlin, us!” the smaller of the pair responded in an unusually low voice. “You were expecting maybe Santa Claus?”
The big one laughed. “Santa Claus! That’s a good one, Ferret!”
“Who are you?” Blade demanded. “What do you want?”
“Why don’t you ask your friend Gremlin?” Ferret rejoined.
“Are those two friends of yours?” Blade asked without turning his attention from the duo.
“G.R.D.’s, yes?” Gremlin said. “Not friends now, no?”
“How did you get in here?” Blade asked. “What do you want?”
Ferret snickered disdainfully. “Your vaunted Home isn’t so difficult to break into, not if you can swim. As to why we’re here, Warrior, we’ve been asked to relay a message to Gremlin.”
“What message?” Blade queried.
The one called Ferret looked up at the large blue hulk and they grinned at one another.
“What message?” Blade repeated.
“Oh, it’s not very long or anything,” Ferret finally replied. “It’s simply this.” He paused, smiling. Without warning, he snarled and crouched on the grass. “Die!”
The two creatures charged.
Chapter Fourteen
“Die!”
He towered above the others in the expansive chamber, this lean, brooding skeleton of a man. His broad shoulders, covered by a knee-length white smock, were set arrow straight, his delicate fingers clasped behind his back. The small speaker on the console in front of him conveyed the sounds of the conflict and he smiled, revealing two rows of tiny teeth, teeth curiously thin and pointed. His eyes were placed deep in their sockets and seemed to blaze with fiery inner light, although in reality they were an unfathomable black. The top of his sloping head was completely bald, but the sides still retained long wisps of fine white hair. His figure presented an amazing paradox; it appeared incredibly ancient and yet immensely powerful simultaneously.
A young man in a green uniform dutifully approached and stood at attention.
The eerie one in the smock slowly turned. “Yes, Captain?” he asked, his voice a resonant rumble in his chest.
The frightened captain swallowed hard. “I beg your pardon for disturbing you, sir.”
“Quite all right,” the tall man stated. He nodded at the speaker. “You’re not interrupting anything important.”
The captain could distinctly detect the sounds of combat emanating from the speaker in the bank of electronic equipment and his eyebrows arched.
“What you hear,” the first man continued, “is the end of a nuisance, the termination of a particularly troublesome thorn in my side.” He stared into the captain’s brown eyes. “And we both know how I deal with those who oppose me, don’t we?”
The captain was too wise to reply.
“Now, what may I do for you?” demanded the one in the smock. His right hand flicked a switch on the board and the speaker went dead.
The captain cleared his throat. “I’m from Communications, sir.”
“I know,” affirmed the tall man. “Captain Miller, isn’t it? You’ve been at the Citadel only two weeks, correct?”
“Yes, Doktor,” Captain Miller replied. How did the fiend do it?
Scuttlebutt had it the Doktor was endowed with a startlingly efficient photographic memory. Rumor also was that he read the new Personnel Report for the entire Citadel each week and memorized its contents!