His lips were red, ringing a mouth filled with pointed teeth. The nose was a mere slit, while his eyes were pools of black. Except for skimpy briefs covering his genitals, briefs the same shade as his scaly skin, he was naked. The queerest part of his appearance was the bizarre triangular cowl, a flap of scale-covered flesh extending several inches outward from each circular ear, then narrowing to a point at his shoulder. “Are you finished admiring me?” he asked at length.
“You’re not what I expected,” Hickok said.
“Oh? What did you expect?” Manta queried.
“I don’t rightly know,” Hickok admitted. “But you sure as blazes ain’t it!”
“Such eloquence!” Manta stated contemptuously. “It’s difficult to believe you are human!”
“What do you plan to do with us?” Hickok ventured to inquire.
“Why, give you the grand tour, of course,” Manta said, moving to the left. “Step out here.”
Hickok slowly rose, then assisted Hedy in rising. Her legs appeared to have turned to mush, and she couldn’t take her wide eyes off Manta.
Manta uttered a nasal snicker. “I am irresistible, aren’t I, my beauty?”
Hickok led Heady from confinement.
“I trust you found the accommodations to your liking?” Manta said.
“You were in our first-class closet.”
Hickok glanced at the narrow cubicle they’d just vacated. “We were in a closet?”
“Not just any closet,” Manta declared, grinning. “Observe.” He closed the door and pointed at black letters stenciled on the upper panel.
“Sanitation,” Hickok read the word aloud.
Manta nodded. “An appropriate place to hold a human, don’t you think?”
“What have you got against humans?” Hickok absently questioned.
Manta hissed through his teeth. “Everything! Humans are despicable!
Eventually they will be eradicated from the earth!”
“Not if I can help it,” Hickok mentioned.
“But you can’t,” Manta stated, and turned to lead them down the corridor to their right.
Hickok’s gaze rested on the side of the mutant’s neck and his eyes narrowed.
Dear Spirit!
The sides of Mania’s squat neck consisted of vertical, reddish membranes, expanding and contracting in a regular rhythm.
“You’ve got gills!” Hickok exclaimed.
Manta looked at the gunman. “And who says humans are stupid? Your powers of perception never cease to astound me!”
“But how—” Hickok began.
“How is such a thing possible?” Manta interjected, leading them along the cool, pale green, tiled hallway. Illumination was provided by an intermittent series of overhead lights.
Hickok had to lead Hedy by the hand. She kept digging in her heels and trying to flee.
Manta appeared not to notice. “How can you ask such a foolish question? Or have you been residing in a cave all of your life?”
“No,” Hickok said.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Manta went on, “there are many beings such as myself. Superior beings. You call us mutants.”
“Now hold on a blamed second,” Hickok stated. “Who ever claimed mutants were superior to humans?”
Manta glanced at the Warrior, his fangs gleaming. “I did. Because our superiority is an established fact. Mutants possess capabilities far beyond the pitiful limitations of your species. We are more intelligent, more adaptable physically, and destined to rule your kind.” He paused. “You’ll see. I’ll show you what I’ve done here. Perhaps then you can appreciate the truth of my statements.”
“You’re impressin’ me so far,” Hickok said.
“I am?” Manta inquired, smiling.
“You sure are,” Hickok asserted. “I’ve been captured by the best of ’em. By the Watchers, the Moles, the Commies, the Technics, and a passel of androids. But you’re classier than all of ’em. No doubt about it. I’ve never been held prisoner in a sanitation closet before.”
Manta unexpectedly halted, glaring at the Warrior. “You are mocking me.”
“Wouldn’t think of it, Fish Lips,” Hickok rejoined.
Manta raised his right arm, about to strike, when he inexplicably changed his mind. His arm lowered and he smiled. “Have your fun while you can, human.”
“I intend to,” Hickok assured him.
Manta began walking again. “Obviously an explanation is in order. You were held in a sanitation closet because, after all, where else does one put trash? Besides, the Humarium lacks jail cells, and the closets are adequate for our purposes.”
“What the dickens is a Humarium?” Hickok queried.
“Do you know what an aquarium is?” Manta asked.
“Yeah. A tank where you keep little fish,” Hickok said. “Some of the young’uns in my Family have aquariums.”
“Your description is accurate to a point.” Manta stated. “Aquariums can contain little fish, as you so quaintly phrased it, but they can also contain large fish, very large fish indeed. In fact, prior to the war, there were a number of facilities devoted to exhibiting aquatic animals and plants. They were called aquariums too.”
“I remember reading about them once,” Hickok mentioned. “They even had whales, didn’t they?”
“That they did,” Manta confirmed. “Your kind scoured the seas for the most exotic specimens you could find, then you imprisoned them for life in your holding tanks. Yet another example of human barbarism!”
“Hold the fort, there, Fish Lips,” Hickok said, interrupting. “I wasn’t around when all of this was going on, and those who were involved were tryin’ to advance the cause of science. They studied the specimens they caught to increase their knowledge of the sea.”
Manta stared at the gunman. “You’re not the bumpkin you pretend to be.”
“I’m as bumpy as they come,” Hickok retorted.
“I will, though, concede you are correct,” Manta said. “Many of those involved in capturing aquatic species were sincerely striving to broaden their oceanic understanding.”
“Is there an echo in here?” Hickok quipped. He hoped he could keep the mutant talking. Stalling was imperative. He needed to find out where they were and what had happened to his Colts. Once he had his guns in his hands, he was going to teach Manta a lesson the mutant would never forget!
“I’m glad you comprehend,” Manta stated. “Your transition should be easier.”
“Transition?” Hickok repeated, perplexed.
Manta nodded. “Be patient. You will understand everything shortly.”
Hickok wanted to continue the conversation, to learn all he could before making his move. “Were those your goons who jumped us?”
“The Brethren are not goons,” Manta snapped.
“Those were some of your gang?”
Manta’s lips twitched. “Nor are the Brethren a gang.”
“What are they?”
“The Brethren is an association, the first of its kind. We are an organization devoted to the fostering of mutantkind around the globe. All mutants are welcome to join,” Manta boasted.
“So how many mutants are there in your outfit?” Hickok idly inquired.
“There are two hundred and sixty-seven Brethren of the Primary Order,” Manta declared proudly, then stopped again. He gazed at the Warrior, “Exceedingly clever.”
“Who? Me?” Hickok responded.
“Yes. You,” Manta said. “The number of members we have is classified information. For Mutant Eyes Only.” He paused. “Oh, well. No harm has been done. You will never leave here to reveal your knowledge.”
“Who cares how many yahoos with fish lips are runnin’ around?”
Hickok commented, still holding Hedy’s hand in his. The poor woman was terrified.
“The Sharks care,” Manta declared. “They would launch an attack on our domain if they discovered their numerical advantage is actually greater than they believe it to be.”