She pulled on his sleeve and then headed for the control headquarters, leaving behind the screams and the heat.

Chapter 29.

They found Chet Zorski in the main headquarters. She'd had security guards around the building, but it took only a show of the firepower of Machiko's team and an explanation of what they were about ("We've got to stop these monsters-help us and we all might survive") for the security force to capitulate.

As for Zorski, she folded like a bad poker hand.

"It's out of control." She addressed Machiko calmly, but with her eyes wide with fear as she left her office. "We need your help to stop it. Have you got command of the Predators?"

"No, but we can work with them."

"We can establish some kind of truce and understanding?"

"Yes. But they'll want those superbug creatures destroyed."

"It's a bargain. They've gone nuts. I told Evanston it was too soon to use them."

"Where is Evanston?"

"He's got a control bunker. Down in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Take us there."

"That's a bit difficult. He's got it pretty well sealed off. I don't think he's liking what he's seeing on his monitors."

"You've seen it?"

"You bet I've seen it. Between the bugs and the genetic progeny that we concocted, this settlement is going to get sliced up pretty badly."

"It doesn't have to be that way. Let me talk to him," said Machiko. "That is, if there's still a communication line down to him."

"Oh, yes, there certainly is. And it's glowing cherry-red now, believe me."

The group was quickly conducted into the room.

The monitors hanging from the wall depicted different scenes from the settlement, all showing a similar theme: Violence.

Explosions against the night sky limned the struggle of man versus alien .

. . versus beast.

The technicians all stayed in their seats, their hands on their heads without that gesture of surrender being requested. They, like most of the people there (with the exception of the mercenaries) looked as though they'd never had any experience with this kind of thing, much less the proper training. They were just colonists. Soft, noted Machiko, like most colonists.

Well, with what was coming out from under galactic stones lately, they were all going to have to get hard, fast.

That, of course, was why Evanston---and doubtless the Company he was a.s.sociated with-wanted creatures like those they were breeding.

Humanity, in its present stage, just didn't have the hard edge to spearheaddeep into the heart of the stars.

Now, though, they were discovering that it took a lot more than a genetic mix to deal with the Unknown.

The Unknown was buried deep in the heart of that very mix.

"Punch me through to Evanston-immediately"

"Sure."

Zorski reached over for a comet-mike, handed it to Machiko, then caught sight of what she was carrying in her bag.

"G.o.d. It's the android," she said with an audible gulp.

"h.e.l.lo, there!" said Attila.

"Just keep them covered, Ned," Machiko said, and clicked on the mike.

"Evanston. Livermore Evanston. Do you read me? I need to talk to you, man. I need to talk to you now."

Silence.

She turned to Zorski. "Are you sure this line is open?"

Zorski leaned over and punched a b.u.t.ton. Consulted a readout. "Yes."

"Evanston. Talk to me, dammit. You've got people out there getting killed!"

A voice, slightly shaking with stress, broke through the speakers.

"Yes, and who's killing them? Those d.a.m.ned creatures that you've led here.

It's you, Noguchi! You!"

"Let's take a step into reality, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d. You know what's gone wrong.

Don't deny it. There's no time for that now. No time for philosophizing."

"What do you want?"

"Something went wrong with the control on those things."

"Yes."

"There's got to be an override on them--right? A b.u.t.ton you can push.

You're no dummy, Evanston. You foresaw the possibility that you might not be able to control them. You had to have foreseen the need to destroy the things.

Individually."

"What if there is?"

"Use it. Kill them, and we can make a truce. I can talk to my alien companions. You and your settlement will be spared. They just want the creatures destroyed. They are an insult to their sense of honor!"

"No! They are mine, and they contain the work and wisdom of decades! This eventuality was foreseen there are independent programs in the creatures that will make them seek shelter. That's what they are going for now-shelter. When they are safe, they will turn off and be malleable-to the proper parties, of course."

"Bulls.h.i.+t. You'll blow them now, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" "No. Plain and simple; no, Noguchi-and there's no way you can make me. I'm sitting tight here. Don't worry-everything's going to work out fine for me.

For you, though-I honestly don't think so .....

"Machiko!" cried Sanchez.

The mercenary pushed her aside, bringing his gun around. A flash of energy ripped into his side, knocking him back and into her gun arm.

The smell of singed flesh.

A yell.

Sanchez was down.

Standing just meters away was Zorski, holding a gun.

She looked terrified, but triumphant.

"Okay, you b.i.t.c.h. The ball's in our court now!"

Chapter 30.

Machiko did not even think; she just acted automatically.

The smoking, unconscious body of Ned Sanchez had fallen upon her own gun, but she had access to the sling that held the head of Attila the Hun. She allowed it to roll away to the side.

"Don't shoot!" she said.

"Oh, don't worry," said Zorski, still looking terrified, but a little more under control. "I think that Evanston has other plans for you."

"Good job, Zorski. That's why I was talking to her, to distract them," came Evanston's sneering voice. "Now I think we might be able to accomplish a few things."

"How many of your Hunter friends were still alive after the blast?" Zorski demanded. "We need to know-ungh."

The grunt was due to the pencil-thin beam of light that streamed from the floor, connected with Zorski's forehead, and drilled a neat hole through her brain.

A wisp of smoke flew up from the cauterized wound.

Zorksi's gun dropped with a clatter.

Zorski dropped.

Dead.

Machiko was up in a moment, covering the technicians.

"One wrong move, and you're all on the floor." She looked over at Attila's head. His forehead still had the laser device peeking through. "Good job, Til."

"Ready for anything. Good placement. Excellent tactic."

She checked Ned. Still breathing. Burned some, but he'd make it. She grabbed the mike.

"You heard that, you saw it," she wailed. "Now, Evanston, get your fat a.s.s up here before we have to blow it up here!"

There was no reply.

There was no reply in the main headquarters from the lower bunker, because that bunker had been abandoned.

Plan B was in effect.

No sooner had he seen Zorski go down, his last hope, than Livermore Evanston grabbed his own gun and pack of necessary supplies, jumped, and lit out the emergency-exit tube, stuffing a handgun into his belt, just in case.

He'd foreseen the possibility of having to get out of his bunker. That was a little military lesson that the luminary Adolf Hitler had neglected in planning his escape, and since Evanston had studied all the great leaders, it was natural that he'd wanted to avoid their mistakes.

He'd made enough of his own.

After slipping his rotund self inside and strapping in, he pulled the gla.s.s top of the car down, pressed the release b.u.t.ton. The car pneumatically responded, rocketing down the tube. The rush was amus.e.m.e.nt-park-ride quick, zooming through the darkness, zooming under the complex, and then suddenly rising at a rate that pushed him back in the seat with G-force.

Then he hit.

Springs and belts cus.h.i.+oned the impact, but still Evanston almost lost his breath.

The door whooshed open.

No time to waste.

There was but one hope for escape, and it was beyond that door. He struggled up and hurried there, grabbing the handle and pulling it open.

Night air rushed in, smelling of burned flesh and other less savory things.

Evanston didn't notice. His attention was on the sleek vehicle below the ramp above which he was now perched. The limo. And there was a figure inside, slouched down so as not to draw any attention from anything that might emerge from the violence that flamed just a few hundred meters away.

Evanston puffed down toward it.