Captain Wargo’s eyes seemed to glaze slightly, and there was a hint of horror in his voice. “New York City is inhabited. We think a lot of the poor slobs stayed on after the war, not having anywhere else to go. They undoubtedly took to the sewers, the subways, and whatever other underground tunnels existed. Over the years the radiation took its toll on their bodies, on their genes.”
“But I thought you said there wasn’t any fallout,” Hlade interjected.
“No radioactive fallout,” Captain Wargo said. “But there still was some radioactivity, enough to produce the inevitable mutations. And those mutations now roam New York City at will, killing every living thing they encounter.”
Blade felt a shiver run up his spine. He found himself fervently hoping Plato would decline the Technics’ request.
“You call these mutations Zombies?” Plato asked.
Captain Wargo nodded. “Yes. Our last two teams were able to penetrate the lower levels, but none of them came out alive. The Zombies ate them.”
“Ate them?” This came from Geronimo, his tone shocked.
Captain Wargo looked up. “Oh? Didn’t I tell you? The Zombies are cannibals.”
There was a moment of strained silence.
“What makes you think our Warriors would fare any better than the teams you sent in?” Plato demanded.
Captain Wargo brightened. “Your SEAL. You see, we do have a manufacturing capability, and we can produce some rather sophisticated weapons, but nothing on a large scale. No tanks, nothing like that. And even if we could manufacture a tank, where would we obtain the fuel to operate it? And without a tank, or a similar vehicle, there’s no way to guarantee our squads can reach the site in one piece. But with this SEAL
I’ve heard tell about, we could get our people there intact. Then, all they’d need do is make it to the underground vault and retrieve the Seed canisters.”
“Is that all?” Hickok chuckled.
Blade ran his right hand along the cool hilt of his right Bowie. Wargo was lying again. He was sure of it. His mind flashed to his run to St. Louis, and he remembered being told interesting information concerning the Technics: they ruled Chicago, they were technologically superior to anybody else, and they had formed a pact with the bikers running St.
Louis. One provision of the pact called for the Technics to supply the bikers, known as the Leather Knights, with unlimited amounts of fuel for their bikes. And if the Technics could provide vast quantities of fuel to the bikers, then they also had enough to fuel a tank. Or a dozen tanks.
So what the hell was Captain Wargo up to?
“Our proposal is this,” Capain Wargo said. “Our Minister would like your Alpha Triad to transport a retrieval squad to New York City. In exchange, we will share the Genesis Seeds with you.”
“Share them?” Plato repeated.
“Yes. Our Minister will give your Family half of all the Seeds recovered.
You can do with them whatever you like. Keep them for yourselves, or share them with your allies in the Freedom Federation.”
“Your Minister is most… generous,” Plato said.
“If the Genesis Seeds are recovered, we can afford to be,” Captain Wargo remarked. “We won’t need all of them. If you ask me, it’s a pretty good deal.”
“The Elders will discuss it,” Plato told him.
“Fine by me.” He rested his elbows on the table, then glanced behind him as if suddenly recalling something important.
Lieutenant Farrow was still behind his chair.
“I almost forgot,” Captain Wargo said, facing Plato. “Our Minister wanted to prove his honorable intentions. He thought you might not trust us, or wouldn’t believe our offer. So he authorized me to present a token of his sincerity.”
“What sort of token?” Plato inquired.
“Lieutenant Farrow.”
Plato’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
Captain Wargo spread his hands on the table. “It’s simple. Lieutenant Farrow will be our insurance.”
Plato stared at the woman officer. “I don’t see how—”
“Lieutenant Farrow will be your hostage,” Captain Wargo detailed.
“The proof of our performance, as it were.”
“Our hostage?” Plato and Blade exchanged glances.
“Sure. She stays here until your Warriors return. We’re putting her life in your hands as an example of our good intentions. If your Warriors don’t return, kill her,” Captain Wargo stated matter-of-factly.
“You can’t be serious,” Plato countered in amazement.
“Very serious,” Captain Wargo said. “Our Minister is a man of his word, and this is his way of demonstrating the fact.”
Plato opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of the idea. He glanced up at Blade, his face expressionless except for his eyes.
Smoldering contempt flashed briefly, then vanished as he gazed at the Technics. “And how does Lieutenant Farrow feel about this hostage business?”
Captain Wargo looked at Farrow. “Tell him,” he ordered.
“I am a Technic,” Lieutenant Farrow dutifully intoned. “I do my duty.”
“I see.” Plato stared at the table for a minute. “This has been most interesting,” he said at last. “I must discuss your offer with Alpha Triad and the Family Elders. In private.”
“I understand,” Captain Wargo said. “Would you mind if we took a tour of your Home in the meantime?”
“Be my guest,” Plato said.
“We’ll supply a guide for you,” Blade quickly added.
Captain Wargo stood. “That won’t be necessary.”
“We don’t mind,” Blade informed him.
“But we don’t want to impose—” Captain Wargo began.
“It’s no imposition,” Blade said, cutting him off. He glanced at General Reese. “Would you escort our guests to the west wall?”
“Certainly,” General Reese replied.
“Relay a message to Rikki for me,” Blade directed. “Tell him to have Yama conduct Captain Wargo and Lieutenant Farrow on a tour of the Home.”
“Will do,” General Reese said. He motioned toward the cabin door.
“I almost forgot!” Plato abruptly exclaimed. “What about your refreshments?”
“We can eat later,” Captain Wargo said.
“As you wish,” Plato commented.
General Reese, Captain Wargo, and Lieutenant Farrow departed the cabin.
“Your reactions?” Plato immediately asked.
“White man speak with forked tongue,” Geronimo said somberly, then grinned. “But what else is new?”
“My nose was twitching the whole time he was yappin’,” Hickok declared.
“Your nose was twitching?” Plato reiterated.
“Yep. That dude reeked of unadulterated manure!” Hickok stated.
“And if anyone knows about manure,” Geronimo said, “it’s Hickok.” His face suddenly displayed deep shock, and he gaped at the gunman. “Did I hear you right? Unadulterated? Have you been reading the dictionary again?”
“And your assessment?” Plato asked Blade.
Blade shook his head. “I don’t trust these Technics one bit. When we were in St. Louis I discovered a few facts concerning them.”
“On the run the Chronicler refers to as the Capital Run?” Plato said.
“That one. Captain Wargo was lying to us. From what I learned, the Technics could easily fuel a whole squadron of tanks. And what about those other sophisticated weapons he mentioned? So why do they need the SEAL?”
“Mystery number one,” Plato said.
“And do you really believe the Genesis Seeds exist? Even if they do, why should the Technics generously share them with us?” Blade inquired.
“Mystery number two,” Plato said.
“And how do they know so much about us?” Blade went on. “Granted, they might have learned a lot while in the Civilized Zone. But they obviously knew about us before they showed up in Omaha. Did they really hear about us from passing travelers in Chicago?”