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into it."
"Mebbe I can get one."
"Ryan."
He turned back to look at Jak.
The albino jerked a thumb upward. "Trapdoor. Goes to mat-trans above."
Ryan worked the spatials in his head, discovering that the way the room turned
put them under the room above. The tunnel had twisted and dipped down as it
progressed. "Been there?"
"Been there. Door opens easy. Soldier boys there, though."
"Can you get up inside without being seen?"
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Jak looked at him reproachfully.
"Get it done, then. Lock those people out."
Jak vanished.
"Somebody figured themselves a hidey-hole," the Armorer said.
"This whole Byzantine complex with its secrets and the prejudicial nature of
the society that was constructed clearly shows evidences of a paranoiac mind
at the helm, dear
Ryan," Doc said. "A secondary route to the mat-trans unit, easily the most
powerful of escape routes, should come as no shock at all."
Ryan didn't even try to puzzle it out. The general gist was that the old man
agreed. Ryan looked at J.B. "Get everybody up there, ready to go in but not
where you can be seen."
"What are you going to be doing?" J.B. asked.
"Trying to cut a deal with the devil we know," Ryan replied. "Put the ace on
the line and see if we can't deal out this plant bastard." He was moving
before his friend could argue.
The piant-thing had halted beside Boldt's corpse. Tendrils formed, sprouting
from the main body, and picked up the dead man.
"Victor!" The computerized voice carried true anguish, but there was a feeling
of distance in it.
Ryan ran, splashing through the water, knowing he was going to attract the
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creature's attention. He was drenched by the nutrient-laden water. He didn't
let himself think about what kind of bacteria might be invading his body even
now.
The LED now read 1:27.
He paused near the corner of the tunnel mouth, leading back out to where the
White
Sands soldiers were holed up. The crash and thunder of gunfire indicated they
had problems of their own. The seed heralds didn't know Boldt was dead and
were continuing the fight.
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Peering down the tunnel, Ryan saw that the water level stopped twelve yards up
the incline. The tunnel also twisted enough to provide some cover as long as
the White
Sands team didn't decide to suddenly charge down.
The plant-thing came at him, sprouting more of the thorn-tipped tendrils from
its body.
The rage it expressed was inarticulate, but forced a booming, buzzing hum from
the speaker system. It surged through the water, aiming itself at Ryan.
Unlimbering the Steyr, Ryan headed into the tunnel, which didn't leave him
much room to maneuver especially if he was wrong about the plant-thing's
ability to leave the fluid environment.
The bend he was aiming for was thirty yards up. Ryan hoped none of the
tendrils the plant-thing exuded would reach that far. If it stretched that
distance, the weight of the tendrils should work against the thing. Maybe.
Ryan hunkered down against the bend in the tunnel. Seconds were passing, and
the LED
was counting them down 1:09.
The plant-thing advanced, whipping its tendrils in a frenzy, continuing the
pained wailing. The slithering tendrils slapped all around Ryan, and he kept
the panga bared and at the ready. But it halted at the water's edge, obviously
reluctant to step away from the nutrient fluid. Though it tried to shoot the
thorn-tipped tendrils out to reach him, gravity and the distance were too
great. They fell yards short of the mark.
Ryan turned his attention in the other direction in time to see one of the
White Sands soldiers break cover and attempt to sprint down the corridor.
Bracing the Steyr across his other forearm, with the panga at the ready, Ryan
ripped off a half-dozen shots all around the soldier, intentionally missing
him.
The soldier looked almost comical as he halted his headlong plunge and
reversed direction.
Ryan fired three more rounds, close enough to let whoever was watching know he
could have taken the runner down at any point. "It's Ryan Cawdor!" he yelled.
There was a moment of hesitation. "What do you want, Cawdor?"
Ryan watched the plant-thing. It held its position, blocking the way back.
"Who's in
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