nted
in the power cars produced electricity for the drive ?motors attached
to each of the sixty-four wheels.
Camouflaged in black, brown and two shades of red, the wagon train's
moulded SuperCon shell was lined with lead to provide protection
against radiation. Each car had several small shielded periscope ports
fitted with armoured glass that could be uncovered in an emergency but
under normal conditions external vision was via clusters of remotely
controlled tv cameras. Long-range surveillance was provided by a
section of ten Skyhawks flown by wingmen like Steve. The train was
also equipped with air guns, laser weapons plus a variety of other
electronic devices and - for close-quarter defence - invisible
superheated steam jets that could blast human flesh straight off the
bone in seconds.
Gus White joined Steve by the side of The Lady. He was still as mad as
hell at not having been assigned to Big Red One but he was doing his
best not to show it. 'What do you think?"
Steve shook his head in wonderment. 'Even though we trained all year
on a full-sized mock-up of the launch car and lived inside that
simulator for a week, when you finally see it all in one piece it's
..." Words failed him.
'... big,' said Gus.
'You can say that again,' agreed Steve. 'No wonder the goddam Mutes
head for the hills when they see one of these things coming."
'Yeah,' grinned Gus. 'They call 'em "iron snakes". I can't wait to
see their faces when this little o" snake starts breathing on them with
some of that superheated steam."
Side by side, they wandered along the length of the train, noting the
multi-barrelled weapon turrets mounted on the sides and the roofs of
the cars. Squads of engineers were checking out the motors on the huge
wheels, and testing the movement of power controls.
Gus edged under the wagon train and glanced warily at the evil-looking
jets on the sloping underside of the car which blasted out the
super-heated steam. 'What a way to go,' he muttered. He rejoined
Steve and together they walked around one of the huge wheels,
inspecting the interlinked slabs of tungsten steel that made up the
tread on the massive tyre.
'Can't be much fun getting run over, either,' observed Steve.
'Hey, you two!" said a flat, hard voice.
Steve and Gus turned to fred themselves looking down at a stocky,
tight-lipped girl in a blue wingman's jumpsuit.
She had dark, close-cut hair, a smooth, oval, not unattractive, face;
the peak of her cap was pulled down over deep set grey eyes that looked
half closed but missed nothing. She wore the triple red stripes of a
section leader on her sleeve. Above her left breast pocket was a pair
of golden wings with five gold stars underneath; the printed tag over
her right breast pocket identified her as 7571
KAZAN.J.
'Finished your tour of inspection?" asked KAZAN J. in a voice that
meant business.
'Yess-surr!" chorussed Gus and Steve. They snapped rigidly to
attention and saluted with synchronised movements.
Kazan's return salute rivalled theirs for zeal and correctness.
As they stared blankly into the middle-distance, Kazan read off their
name tags and eyed them in turn. 'White and Brickman ... Ahh, yes
...
the smart ones." She walked a slow circle of inspection round them but
could not fault their turnout. 'Where's Fazetti and Webber?"
'We haven't seen them, sir,' said Steve."They weren't around when we
booked in,' said Gus.
'I'll tell you where they are,' said Kazan. 'They're in the briefing
room where the wagon master is about to deliver his pre-embarkation
address!" 'B-But sir,' stammered Gus. 'That's scheduled for ten
fifteen hours."
'It's been moved forward thirty minutes,' snapped Kazan. 'Don't either
of you watch the screens?" She pointed to the nearest overhead tv
monitor. An announcement about the revised time was being flashed on
the screen in sync with the usual red prompt light beneath the
console.
Ordinarily, there was no way either of them should have missed it.
Steve and Gus stared at the monitor with embarrassment.
'No, obviously not,' concluded Kazan. She adopted an air of bitter