The Empty Warrior (80 page)

“All right, we’ll wait. But not long.” Steenini clearly did not like the idea of spending any significant period of time in such close proximity to the dogs. But at Lindy’s insistence the two of them remained in the corridor, fidgeting, for several minutes. Then abruptly the dog did in fact reappear. It yelped once, and its two fellows blocking the passageway abruptly moved to either side, laying down with their heads resting submissively on their forepaws. The dog yelped again, and motioned for the humans to follow with a toss of its head before padding off the way it had come.

“I got to hand it to you, Willet,” Steenini said as he gingerly tiptoed between the two recumbent giants and then set off at a trot behind their guide. “When you’re right, you’re right.” Lindy nodded while jogging at Steenini’s side, but said nothing. His thoughts were with O’Keefe, for if he wasn’t dead already he surely would be if they didn’t get aid to him quickly.

The dog loped along in a four-legged canter that was obviously a slow pace for its species, but it was still a brutal stride for the men to match. Both were nearly spent after having worked for months in the mines, and neither was entirely sure of his own ability to keep up with the dog for anything resembling an extended period. Steenini voiced his fears in the matter and Lindy acknowledged him with a grunt, but there were no other words between them. Strangely, force of habit seemed to compel them to voluntarily implement the same protocol of silence enforced upon them by the guards during the daily trips to and from the mines. But at least the lack of conversation conserved some of their energy.

After several turns down different passageways, they took a left into a dimly lit tunnel permeated with the stale and dusty smell of disuse. They ran along for about fifty yards before entering a deep stairwell. The dog easily traversed each flight, and waited at each landing, turning impatiently as the men made their way down the stairs as quickly as they were able. After descending a half dozen flights, they found themselves at the entrance to another corridor, this one only about twenty feet long. It emptied into the side of yet another tunnel, where they turned right and trotted slightly uphill, passing the cell where, unknown to them, O’Keefe had recently been held.

Lindy could see the opening to the arena ahead. As they passed through it he and Steenini found themselves surrounded by chaos. The scene laid out before them was even more macabre than it had seemed from their vantage point high above. Tank hulls were spread randomly across the floor, some still idling, all stained crimson and devoid of their reptilian controllers. The lizards themselves had been torn to shreds by the dogs. Pieces of them lay everywhere. Amidst the carnage lay also the speared carcasses of the few dogs that had been killed in the uprising. The floor was viscid and sticky with agglutinating blood while the stench of death and diesels was overpowering. Some few men meandered around the floor alone or stood about in small clusters, at a loss at what to do with no one present to order them about.

But the two friends’ canine guide darted easily through the maze of gory destruction as the former prisoners still moved instinctively out of the way of any dog that approached them. The animal turned to look back only when it had reached the edge of the barrier the pack members had formed around O’Keefe. There the dog stood and waited patiently for its two human followers as they slowly picked their way across the floor, a slight pant the only outward sign of its exertion.

As the pair approached the living parapet some of the hounds began to growl and stir restlessly until a sharp canine retort from the center of the ring silenced them. At once several of them moved aside forming a gap in their protective circle, allowing Lindy and Steenini to approach O’Keefe, but the huge bulk of the big black hound lying next to him hid most of his form from their view.

As they moved left past the dog’s withers and carefully slipped around its head, their eyes glued fearfully to its teeth as they did so, they found, much to their surprise, that there was already a prisoner there ministering to Hill’s injuries. A wizened, gaunt old man with a ring of white hair around his balding pate knelt over him; methodically salving and bandaging the various gashes, welts, burns, and scrapes that covered the aberrant’s body. O’Keefe lay on his back, his legs propped up atop a small pile of wadded clothing, presumably collected from bystanders in the arena.

Presently the wiry old man noticed them standing to the side and turned his bespectacled face up to glance at them. A slight smile creased his weathered face. “Ah, Willet,” he said urgently. “You are most welcome. You and your friend, come quickly. You must help me. He has lost a great deal of blood. He is going into shock. You two must bandage him while I go back and stitch the worst of his wounds.” He roughly rolled O’Keefe onto his stomach and stripped away the temporary bandages covering one of the long gashes left by the lizard guard’s claws.

At first Lindy stood dumbfounded, even as Steenini knelt beside O’Keefe and began to assist. He did not recognize the emaciated, white haired man at all, and yet that man had called him by name, and in a voice that was somehow so very familiar. At last recognition crept into his brain. “Beccassit,” he breathed. And then louder, “By the Rock, it is you. What have they done to you?” Lindy had to restrain himself from falling to his knees next to the doctor and embracing him.

“We’ll have time to talk later, Willet,” Beccassit said calmly, not looking up. He was already stitching closed the wound that he had bared. “Right now Hill’s life hangs in the balance, and time is of the essence. Now please help your friend bandage any spot where he is losing blood.”

“Yes, of course,” Lindy said, reddening as he knelt beside Steenini. He began to unroll bandages and tear off strips of tape, handing them to Steenini as fast as the scarred man could apply them. “Where did you come by these medical supplies?” he asked as he worked.

“From the infirmary,” Beccassit answered. “As hard as it is to believe, Elorak’s favored actually received some primitive medical care in this sewer. That was my job.” As he spoke, he continued deftly sewing up O’Keefe, quickly starting on a second gash.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Lindy asked, still amazed to find the doctor inside the ring of canines.

“One of the dogs brought me. I thought they meant to harm me at first, but apparently they knew I was a doctor. As soon as I was released from the arena, I rushed back to the infirmary for my bag and some supplies. Several dogs were already there. They seem to be much more intelligent than they have let on. In any case, one held my kit in its mouth, as if it were waiting for me. Then it led me here. I only wish I was more adequately stocked. I don’t know how much I can do for him with only these crude implements.”

Immediately O’Keefe’s protector, the big black beast, rose and was at the doctor’s side, gently pawing at his arm. “Stop it!” the doctor ordered. The dog ceased but stayed standing closely by. The doctor continued to stitch, but in a few moments was unnerved by the nearness of the animal. “Willet, the dog wants something,” he said. “See if you can take it aside and communicate with it in some way.”

Lindy stood and moved off a short distance, mildly surprised that the dog followed him. He turned to face the animal, his own eyes slightly lower than the top of the hound’s massive cranium. “What did Hill say its name was?” he shouted to Steenini.

“Regulus,” Steenini called back. Lindy was in no way surprised that his friend had been so readily able to supply him with the answer. The man never forgot anything, or so it seemed.

Lindy turned back to the dog. “Okay, Regulus,” he said slowly, “if you understand me, nod your head like this.” He demonstrated. The dog dutifully nodded in return. “All right. So nodding your head means yes is the answer to any question. Do you understand?” Lindy continued to speak very slowly and clearly, like a tutor addressing an underachieving child. The black hound reciprocated with another nod. “Great,” Lindy said, mildly excited now, but still using the same tone and cadence. “If the answer to a question is no, paw the ground. Do you understand?” The dog nodded again, but only after rolling his eyes mightily. The gesture was not lost on Lindy. “All right, sorry,” he said defensively, “but I’m not used to speaking with members of the animal kingdom.” He began to question the dog anew, only this time with greater rapidity and in his normal voice.

After a short session he found that Regulus knew where more medical supplies could be found and wanted to take Beccassit to them. Lindy communicated his findings to the doctor, who readily agreed to accompany the dog but refused to leave until he had stanched O’Keefe’s bleeding as much as possible with the supplies at hand. Lindy turned to inform the animal but it had obviously heard every word. The canine nodded and gave Lindy another sarcastic look before the pilot could even begin to speak. Lindy struggled to find an appropriate retort to the dog’s silent deprecation, started to say something uncharitable, but at length merely muttered, “Yeah,” and turned back to Beccassit.

The doctor was by now almost finished sewing up O’Keefe, with Steenini following behind him bandaging the long gashes. Immediately after he tightly taped a dressing over O’Keefe’s last visible wound he sprang to his feet as quickly as his maltreated body would allow and spoke urgently to Regulus. “I need access to the colony network,” he said to the dog. “If I can get into the system, I think I can arrange for us to get out of here. But I need an interface. I assume there is one in Elorak’s quarters, but I don’t know how to get there. Can you help me?”

The big alpha nodded and almost immediately one of the larger dogs, one with a dusty, golden coat, broke from the circle around them. It trotted over and sat attentively before Regulus. After a moment, it moved to lie down on the floor beside Steenini with its head on its forepaws, just as the hounds in the corridor had done previously. There it remained while Steenini stood waiting and unsure of what to do.

“What does this mean? What does it want?” he finally asked in exasperation. At that, Regulus stepped behind him and unceremoniously grabbed Steenini’s waistband in his teeth, hoisting the Akadean’s scrawny body into the air. The dog then deposited him onto the back of the other hound.

The animal was up and moving before Steenini was fully aware of what was happening. He grabbed at the beast’s thick coat in a panic, seeking handholds and gradually pulling himself further up the dog’s back until he was able to wrap his arms tightly around its neck. The dog then broke into a dead run across the arena and disappeared into the access tunnel, Steenini holding on for dear life, his howls of protest at their speed echoing from the mouth of the exit.

Lindy shook his head in wonder. He would have laughed at the sight if there had been any laughter left in him. But before he could ponder the implications of that thought the doctor was up and at his side. He motioned toward O’Keefe, whom he had turned to once more lie on his back. “Stay with him,” he said. “I believe he is stable now. If he comes to, just keep him still and his legs elevated until I get back.” Lindy nodded his understanding.

Beccassit turned to Regulus. “Let’s get those supplies,” he said. “And if you don’t mind and it’s not too far, I’ll walk. I’m too frail to be bounced around on the back of a sprinting dog if it is not absolutely necessary.” The dog nodded its acceptance and the two of them walked away together, Regulus anxious for more celerity and the doctor huffing and puffing along as quickly as he was able. Lindy was left alone with O’Keefe inside the ring of overwrought canines, all of them still taut from battle.

He took a seat on the floor next to his unconscious friend, wishing to help him, but not knowing anything further to do. At length, he simply took one of O’Keefe’s limp hands in his own and held it, patting the top of it every so often. Minutes passed, stretching into over a half hour, and still the doctor did not return. Lindy began to wonder if something had gone wrong but quickly put those thoughts aside as the ring of dogs still sat looking outward vigilantly, apparently no more agitated that before. He sensed that if something did go awry, his first hint of it would be increasing turmoil within their ranks.

As he watched, the beasts on one side all turned their eyes in a single direction. Lindy followed their gaze, standing and hopping up and down to catch glimpses of the arena floor between the dogs’ shoulders. Beccassit and Regulus were making their way quickly toward him. The dog carried a large leather bag gently between his teeth while the doctor held what appeared to be a rolled up stretcher in his arms. Seconds later Beccassit was yet again kneeling beside O’Keefe.

“I’m sorry to have been gone for so long,” he muttered to Lindy, “but I needed to type and collect some blood. The dog took me to an automated clinic that I knew nothing about. It was hidden in Elorak’s quarters. It looks as if it was one of the first places on the dogs’ list of areas to secure and guard once they disposed of the lizards. Your friend was already there, working at a computer terminal; he helped us gain entry into the infirmary. There is everything we need in there and more. I’ll have Hill here as good as new in no time. But first I need to get some blood into him.”

As he was speaking Beccassit had been pulling various components out of the bag that the dog had been carrying and was busily attaching one to another. A hook to a telescoping shaft of metal, the shaft to a tripod base, some clear tubing to a needle, and a transparent bag of bright red blood to the tubing. Beccassit hung the bag from the now elevated hook and quickly inserted the needle into O’Keefe’s arm. Shortly, the life-giving serum was dripping slowly into O’Keefe’s veins. Next Beccassit pulled a pistol-grip injector from the bag and began shooting measured doses of antibiotics and painkillers through the aberrant’s skin.