There was a general easing of the immediate tension. The soldiers, for the time being, seemed ready to go along with the two corpses. Yabu was also going with the flow but he was far from happy.
"Have you any proof of what you say?"
"I've got the LA Tribune from three days ago."
"Show me."
Vickers unfastened the top of his blue overall. He pulled out a folded newspaper. It was the same LA Tribune that the major had sent for when he'd demanded proof. He handed it to Yabu, who read part of the front page, rapidly flipped through the rest of the paper and then handed it to Parkwood. Parkwood's examination was slower and more thorough. Finally he carefully refolded it and handed it back to Vickers.
"I think we should go and ask Lloyd-Ransom some questions. You'll go with us."
Vickers gave him a searching look.
"Am I a prisoner?"
"I don't see why."
"Then you believe me?"
"I don't want to believe you. I'd hate to think that I wasted eighteen months in this place but I want to know the truth."
Lamas and some of the worst scum of the butcher squads were waiting when they came out into the bottoms from the elevators. It was the same setup that had been used on Herbie Mossman. The three corpses were a little more prepared. They came out fast and Parkwood had Lamas covered with his frag gun before he could give any order to fire. He advanced briskly up the slope of black marble.
"You hesitated just a little too long, Lamas. It's that lack of combat tuning. Your men could take us out but I'll still drop you where you stand."
"Why hasn't Vickers been shot?"
"Vickers has been outside."
"That's impossible."
"You know damn well that's not true. You were there when they tortured Fenton."
Vickers and Yabu came up the slope at a slightly slower pace. Surprisingly, the soldiers were right behind them, backing them up. They seemed to have less trouble accepting the idea that Lloyd-Ransom was insane than anybody. Vickers reached the top of the slope just in time to catch the end of the conversation. He glanced abruptly at Parkwood. Had he also been there when they had tortured Fenton? He didn't have time to think about it. The scum from the butcher squads were only marginally in check. Even if they bought the idea that there was a real world outside they might be a little ambivalent about returning to it and maybe facing trial for mass murder. That was in the future, however. For the moment they were quiet, although they obviously knew that something unique was going on. They were watching, slit-eyed, to see which way Lamas would jump.
Parkwood, who seemed to have taken charge, beckoned to Vickers.
"Give him the newspaper."
Vickers again hauled out the rapidly becoming dogeared copy of the Tribune. He handed it to Lamas. Lamas read the headlines, read the date and then started to leaf through it.
"It could be a fake."
"Vickers brought it back from the outside. Even if they could fake something like that out there, it would mean that it's not a dead world."
"Maybe he faked it in here."
"Come on, Lamas, you know damn well that we don't have facilities down here to produce anything like this. This was printed on an old fashioned offset press. Do you know something we don't know?"
Lamas angrily folded the newspaper.
"I just don't believe this thing. It could rip the bunker apart."
"That's why we want to see Lloyd-Ransom."
Lamas's jaw clenched. He was plainly beset by some terrible doubts. He glanced back across the piazza to the tunnel entrances that led to the superpeoples' living quarters. In the end, he sighed.
"Yes. Something has to be very wrong. We'd better go talk to him."
They started across the piazza, Lamas and the three corpses. The soldiers and the butcher squad fell in behind them. They were halfway across, about level with the black obelisk, when Lamas motioned that they should all halt.
"There's a second line of defense."
Vickers glanced quickly at Park wood and Yabu.
"You've got to admit that this is something of a paranoid reaction to the fact that someone may have gone outside."
Neither of them replied. Lamas walked slowly forward. After about ten paces he halted again and called out in the direction of the tunnels.
"This is Lamas. Vickers has come back and he claims that he's been outside. A number of us feel that we should talk to the Leader. We need to discuss the situation."
No answer came back. Lamas walked forward again. He seemed edgy and his hands were half raised.
"This is Lamas, I'm coming in. Don't shoot."
The words acted like a signal. There was a burst of rapid fire from one of the tunnels.
"Sweet Jesus."
The first burst hit Lamas, the second raked the piazza. Vickers hit the ground and rolled. A splinter of marble gashed his cheek but he made it into the shadow of the obelisk. Parkwood slid in beside him. Yabu was also safe behind the slablike statue called Industry. A number of soldiers and butcher squad were sprawled dead on the ground. Parkwood surveyed the scene with hard, angry eyes,
"It looks like we've started something."
"It could be the beginning of the end."
Parkwood eased over and looked intently at Vickers.
"Are you telling the truth about the outside?"
"Of course I'm telling the truth."
"Christ." Parkwood shook his head as though trying to settle his thoughts. "This is more of a mess than I care to cope with."
There was another flurry of fire from the tunnels. This time it was directed further down the piazza, toward the elevators. Vickers looked back. A number of figures were diving for cover along the top of the incline that ran down the elevator banks. He recognized Eggy's war paint. Lloyd-Ransom's guards were firing on their own. This had to be the final going to ground.
It had become a siege. Parkwood continued to take control of the situation and both the military and the security forces seemed content to go along with him. Not that there was that much to go along with; there were at least three miniguns and other heavy automatic weapons set up in the bottom tunnels and there was no way to get past them apart from an all-out and very costly frontal assault. They had tried twice and there were more bodies littering the marble of the piazza. There had been no third attempt. Attackers and defenders bided their time and stayed under cover. As a standoff, it was virtually complete.
Parkwood and Vickers used a lull in the initial firing to crawl back from the shadow of the obelisk to the elevators. It was there, under cover of the incline, that a motley crew were gathering; military, security, all manner of odd individuals, all had heard that Vickers had been outside. They'd come to find out the truth. The gunfire had badly confused them but also convinced everyone there that something was terribly wrong in the bunker. In that moment of confusion, Parkwood moved. Listening to no agruments, he separated the unarmed from the armed. He had no time or use for the unarmed and they were sent back, out of the way, to the upper levels. Those who had weapons were quickly marshalled into a firing line along the top of the incline. He kept a few back in a small reserve that also secured the elevator entrances and kept out any more sensation seekers.
Eggy led the first rush. A small group of a dozen security had managed to get into the largest of the tunnels. In the tunnel, however, there had been no more cover. Only Eggy and Eight-Man, who'd been last in, came back. The second attack was a larger, all military affair. Deakin led this bold frontal assault and nobody came back. After this, there were no more attempts to do it the hard way. They simply waited. Food was brought and Parkwood started a group of non-coms organizing replacements and duty rotations. Now and again there would be fire from the tunnels, minimal and ineffectual, as though they only wanted to remind the attackers that they were there and could keep them ducking and crouching. Lloyd-Ransom had created himself a bunker within a bunker. He had also, at the same time, created a strange revolution in his kingdom. In the bottoms, they'd been divided into attackers and defenders, the beleaguered elite and the insurgents. The rest of the population watched. Unknown to any of those in the bottoms, the security cameras on the piazza had been patched to the other levels' regular video system. Bunker life had come to a full stop while the entire population clustered around the public screens and watched and waited.