Logan Trilogy (31 page)

"The Core will be a hundred per cent operational within twelve hours. After that, the main body work should take another week to ten days."

Gant fingered the ruby at his throat, turned to Evans. "Tell me what he just said."

"Core to be a hundred per cent within six hours. Main body completed in another three days."

"Impossible!" protested Fennister. "I don't have the technicians…the equipment…"

"Ah, but you do," said Gant smoothly, giving Fennister a jeweled smile. "We just picked up a dozen more techs for you on the Market. And additional equipment arrives by paravane tonight. You'll meet my schedule…" Softly. "Won't you?"

Fennister sighed, tightening his thin lips. "Yes, I'll meet your schedule."

RECOVERY

A shape, hovering. Hazy, double-imaged. Coming into focus.

A face. A woman's face. Close to his. Smiling.

Jessica!

Speechless, tears in his eyes, he held her, sought her lips with his, inhaled the sweet fragrance of her skin, touched at the soft flow of her hair. His arms closed around her convulsively.

"It's all right, Logan," she said to him. "You're safe…alive…with me. Everything's all right now."

He drew in a long, shuddering breath; his eyes never left hers. "I thought I'd lost you forever…When the outlanders…"

She stopped his words with a finger at his lips. "That's all over—and we're together again."

Logan stood up, swaying, still weak from the effects of the tranquilizing drugs. He looked around him at the cave.

"Where are we? The last thing was…the storm."

"We're with Mary-Mary inside Crazy Horse. She saved your life, got us both out of prison, gave you medicine…"

Mary-Mary moved up to Logan, took his hands in hers. "I was the little girl in Cathedral," she said.

"When you were running."

"I remember," said Logan.

She told him about hiding inside the mountain, unable to go for help…about the ominous growth of Gant's force ("He must have fifty Sandmen with him!"). And, finally, about Gant's plan to reactivate the Thinker.

"We've got to stop him," said Logan. "If we don't, he'll start the whole inhuman process again…

something even worse than death at twenty-one…a slow, enslaved death inside the cities. He's got to be stopped before that can happen."

"But how?" asked Mary-Mary. "One man and two women against his armed Sandmen?"

"We'll need help," Logan admitted.

"And who's going to help us?" said Jessica. "The Wilderness People—leaderless since Jonath was killed?…They're weak, Logan, vulnerable. Gant would slaughter them in an instant! And how would we get word to them? The mountain is sealed. We can't get out."

"She's right," said Mary-Mary. "Besides, Gant's operation is nearly complete. We've no time to bring in outside help—even if we could find any."

A muscle tightened along Logan's jaw; his eyes were set, intense, fixed on an inner goal. "Then…that leaves it to us," he said.

EAGLE

On Argos, in an ancient book, Logan had once read a short bit of verse, still remembered: If you wish

To enter

The nest of an eagle,

You must wear

His feathers.

Which is why he asked Mary-Mary to take him to the place of workers' supply.

They crouched in cavern gloom, watching the guards.

"Four of them," whispered Logan. "Why four?"

"Gant has doubled the guards on every door," she told him.

Too many, Logan told himself. The doors were useless.

"The roof—is it wired?"

"No," she said.

"Then I'll use that," said Logan, stuffing a Fuser into his belt.

"They'll hear you!"

"Who can hear a cat?" Logan smiled.

And was gone.

On the roof, Logan kept low, moving in a half-run across the flat gray surface. As a Sandman, he'd

done this sort of thing many times—entered buildings through stealth. This one would be simple.

He found a ventpipe, leading down, pried loose its cover with the barrel of his weapon, working fast and without sound. Once inside the pipe, he carefully lifted the cover back into place. If anyone checked the roof all would be in order.

A sense of adventure possessed him. He had his strength back, or most of it; he had Jessica, alive and loving him; he had his hatred of Gant to fire the blood in his body. It seemed to Logan, at this moment, that he could not fail, that he was truly invincible. He smiled at the madness of it, but logic did not matter; emotion ruled him, carried him swiftly forward in his plan.

He located the clothing supply room without difficulty. It was precisely where Mary-Mary said it would be. The doorlock was an easy matter, and he slipped inside.

No one on duty. A large room with long steel shelves holding neatly-folded workclothes. Logan selected three bodysuits all in matching blue, and quickly added the same number of gogglemasks and gloves. In removing the items, Logan did as Mary-Mary had done previously with foodstuffs and medical supplies: rearranged the stacks to disguise the fact that anything had been taken.

With what he needed compactly bundled under one arm, Logan glided for the roof. When he heard voices he did not move. When they had faded he resumed. No problems.

Invincible.

They suited up. Masks. Gloves. Bodysuits.

In these dark blue outfits it would be impossible to recognize them. They would blend in perfectly with the other workers, be able to move freely without fear of detection.

When he had conceived the plan Logan intended going alone, but Mary-Mary told him that he'd need her to pinpoint the proper areas. "All right, then, the two of us." No, not good enough. What they had to do required teamwork, and all three of them would be needed to get the job done.

Reluctantly, Logan had agreed.

CORE

The Central Core was Fennister's pride. Working day and night, almost without sleep, toiling in the depths of the Core shoulder-to-shoulder with his men, he had converted a charred, heat-twisted mass of computer metal into its original machined perfection; he had reconstituted the heart of the Thinker.

Now that great heart was beating strongly once again, sending its message of power out along mile upon mile of linked cable to all the dark areas of the multi-banked computer.

Life was flowing back into the Thinker.

The Core presently required only a standby crew; the main thrust of Fennister's efforts concerned the vast computer-body itself. He was working desperately to meet Gant's schedule—realizing that it was barely possible to succeed. He had to succeed, for the sake of his men, and for Lisa.

Failure was unthinkable.

Three figures detached from cavern shadow…three blue-clad workers, blending with more than a dozen other blue-clad workers…moving toward the Core…wearing the full-face gogglemasks required for this high-body-risk area.

The Sandman accompanying this shift-replacement crew noticed nothing unusual; he had not counted the workers. That wasn't his responsibility; if they sent him a dozen or two dozen his job was to guard them at the Core, make sure everything ran smoothly down there. Fennister knew what they should do; he didn't. And didn't give a damn in the bargain. They were sheep to be herded, and he was a bored shepherd.

In the group, Logan kept Mary-Mary and Jessica close to him. Behind the opaque goggles, his eyes raked the area. They were entering the Core itself now, their transbelt taking them down to the

glowing, pulsing interior.

"Right on time," said the guard below, his voice muted by the gogglemask he wore.

"When have I ever been late?" growled the Sandman leading Logan's group.

"Have a good shift," said the guard as his early hours workmen shuffled tiredly onto the return belt.

We made it! Logan exalted. We're here!

With Mary-Mary and Jessica, he moved to a toolcab just out of the guard's view. Shielding the move with his body, Logan took a needle-thin length of steel from his suit, worked it deftly into the drawerlock. The drawer slid back.

Quickly, each of them removed a Flamer from the inside toolrack. The drawer was closed, locked again.

They moved off.

Logan wasn't sure of his direction. "Which way?" he asked Mary-Mary, his goggled head close to hers.

"I'll lead," she said. "Follow me."

Logan and Jessica stayed close as she weaved a path around giant columns, past glowing relay units, deep into the humming depths of the inner Core.

Now they were totally separated from the other workers, free to implement Logan's plan. The Sandman on duty was long out of sight.

"Is this the right cluster?" asked Logan, pausing before a tangle of multi-colored power cables protruding from the Core's vitals like immense snakes.

"Yes," said Mary-Mary.

Logan knelt to examine them. "If we cut through these and cross-connect them the power overload will blow the Core."

"But how will we get out?" asked Jessica, alarm in her muffled words.

"We'll have some time before the cross-connection takes full effect," Logan told her. "It won't happen all at once. There's only one Sandman on guard, and I can deal with him. We'll be safe inside the caverns by the time it blows."

"Will this really stop Gant?"

"Not completely," said Logan. "But he'll have to rebuild the entire Central Core again. By then we can figure a way out of the mountain and bring help back to fight him. This will work, I'm sure of it!"

They each set their Flamers for maximum penetration. Using the high-intensity fire tools, they could slice through the massive cables with relative ease.

But it would be dangerous.

Keen concentration was a necessity; the depth of each cut had to be precise. Too shallow, and the cross-connection could not be achieved; too deep, and the cables would fuse, killing them instantly but leaving the Core intact.

"Ready?" Logan's Flamer was poised in his gloved hand, flickering blue at its tip.

The two women nodded.

"Begin," he said.

And three bright blades of flame began probing at the cables.

ATTENTION!

Gant was drunk.

He seldom allowed himself the luxury of heavy drinking, but this was a special day of celebration: the Core was fully operational and work was progressing smoothly on the main body of the Thinker.

Soon he would be in a position to program it to fit his desires, to light the cities like so many stars in the heavens—and with him in charge of the universe!

Indeed, a day to celebrate.

He'd been drinking Spanish wine with Evans, who was now equally drunk; they blared out songs together in off-key, grunting voices, pounded the table with their fists, roared with laughter at nonexistent jokes.

Steratt appeared in the doorway, looking disturbed.

They paid him no heed. He moved to Gant, scowling. "You'd better listen to me," he said.

Drunk or sober, Gant was anything but a fool—and the look in Steratt's eyes told him to listen.

"Did Fennister authorize Flamer use at the Core?" asked Steratt.

"Of course not," snapped Gant. "The Core's done"

"The guard there just checked the tooldrawer. Three Flamers are missing."

Gant's face darkened; his eyes became hooded. The effects of the wine flushed away in the heat of his anger.

"Let's get down there!" he said to Evans.

Logan's cable was neatly severed, ready for reconnection. He watched tensely as Jessica and Mary-

Mary bent to their work, flamepoints eating steadily through the tough cable fiber.

Almost finished.

Then; the guard's voice: "What are you three doing?"

Logan knew that bluff would accomplish nothing at this moment. Words were no good at all.

He turned toward the Sandman, triggered the Flamer in his gloved hand. The killing blade of fire caught the guard at shoulder level, knifing through vein and tendon…

He spun, gasped, and died.

"Come on!" said Logan. "Move out! Fast!"

"We can finish, Logan!" cried Mary-Mary. "Another minute or two. We're nearly—"

He grabbed her arm, propelling her forward. "Suspected something. Wouldn't have come here if he didn't. Probably checked the tools. There'll be others coming."

Isolation was death, Logan knew. Separated and running, they would be spotted easily and trapped in the Core. Protective coloration was their only hope—the eagle's feathers! In gogglemasks and bodysuits all workers were identical; to escape they had to intermix with the other blue-clad figures, then wait their chance to fade back into the caverns.

By the time Logan found the main group Mary-Mary was gone. He turned to Jessica, his tone harsh, demanding: "Where is she?"

"She went back—into the Core," said Jessica. "Said she was sure she could finish."

"That's impossible now!" He looked around him. The workers were doing their routine jobs, unaware of the guard's death.

"Stay here," ordered Logan. "I'm going after her. As soon as I—"

"Attention! All workers, attention!" a speakerbox blared. "There has been an accident at the Core.

Please use the interior belt and form on Level 6 for inspection."

"Too late," Logan whispered to Jessica, looking toward the upper level. Gant and Evans were there, Steratt beside them.

As the workers reached the top, masks were peeled away, features and IDs scanned.

"We can't go up," said Logan.

"But we can't stay here either," she said.

"Move along, you two." A Sandman prodded them toward the belt.

Logan drove a fist into the man's face, grabbed Jessica's hand, ducking between two central-power columns.

A laser blast sizzled the floor behind them. Gant was shouting, gesturing wildly.

Logan had a goal: an emergency riser used by repair crews he'd seen on the far side of the Core. If they could reach it without being cut off…