Gulliver's Fugitives - Keith Sharee [77]
He looked at her and knew, on some level, what she meant.
He left her there and ran toward Lomov and the hovercraft at the far end of the bridge. The craft door opened and a cameraman leaned out.
In front of Odysseus, a head and shoulders came up into view above the edge of the bridge—a CS officer climbing up from the lower level.
The officer pointed a gun at Lomov.
“Niki! Behind you!” shouted Odysseus.
Lomov turned and saw the tableau in an instant, but there was nowhere to duck. Instead he threw his body against the door, bloodying himself on the unyielding metal.
The CS officer fired.
Lomov fell. Odysseus ran toward him, and so did the officer.
But before they reached him, Lomov staggered back upright. Again he made his own body into a projectile and smashed once more against the door. This time its lock burst and it banged open. But Lomov lay unconscious on the pavement.
The CS officer stopped before he reached Lomov, and turned to face Odysseus. Holding his weapon in one hand, he pulled off his helmet with the other and cast it away.
Odysseus froze when he saw the man’s face.
“Ferris,” he said in astonishment.
“Powell.” Ferris seemed equally surprised. “Long time no see. I’ve been waiting ten years for this. Now I’m going to need some payback for all the men I’ve lost to your Dissenters’ Allpox. Yeah, I think it’s time for some payback.”
Ferris holstered his gun, then lunged at Odysseus. The two men fought, pounding each other, wrestling, and trying to push each other over the edge. They were closely matched but Ferris seemed to have the slight advantage in size and strength.
The hovercraft circled overhead, blowing both men’s hair wildly. Its cameraman tilted and panned his camera to keep both men composed in his frame, the one garbed in sleek white uniform, the other in a street-bum’s rags. There were no other CS men on the bridge, and no one-eyes, nothing else in sight to detract from the image that would be seen on millions of Rampartian television screens. Just Ferris in manly combat with the chief of the criminals.
Ferris used a karate kick on Odysseus, who lost his balance and had to hook his arm over a metal post to keep from falling off the bridge.
“Powell,” said Ferris, “maybe you should have stayed with the CS after all. Your physical condition seems to have slid a bit.”
“My name isn’t Powell.”
Odysseus leapt up, swinging fiercely at Ferris, finally connecting with a stunning blow.
Ferris stumbled back, dazed, and dropped to his knees.
Both men were now nearly right in front of Troi. She could sense something dangerous happening to Ferris. The controlled mien of the CS military officer was giving way to unfettered fury, a blood lust, a need for consummation.
In that instant Troi knew Ferris would disobey orders, whatever those orders were. She distinctly felt something snap inside him.
He thumbed a button on his weapon. She sensed his grim animal satisfaction and knew he was going to kill Odysseus instead of stun him.
“No!” shouted Troi.
He fired.
The radiation pattern hit Odysseus square in the chest. The bearded man yelled something unintelligible at the sky as red stains bloomed all over his muddy tunic. Then he fell heavily on his back.
Ferris stood over him. Troi felt Ferris get himself back under control. Ferris became once again the operational military man.
Odysseus was still alive, for the moment. Troi could sense that as well.
Fifty one-eyes suddenly rose from under the bridge, where they had hovered in hiding, and now surrounded the scene. The camera-hovercraft flew away.
A squad of helmeted CS men came up behind Troi. One put handcuffs on her.
Ferris bent over Odysseus, slapped his face. Odysseus mumbled.
Ferris was going to follow proper procedure to the letter. He unclipped a small case from his belt and removed a squeeze bottle. He squirted some of the CS-developed pharmaceutical up both of Odysseus’ nostrils.
He slapped Odysseus’ face repeatedly as he waited for the combination of drugs to elicit a state of absolute, involuntary