He'd managed to catch up to them before the Security Service finally showed up. Even then, not a bystander was doing anything but standing by—and most of them had just speeded up their walk a little, heads down, shoulders hunched.
But the Security Service finally did come swerving around a corner, and the ones in front dropped to one knee, aiming blasters.
"That's no good!" Rod yelped, and Gwen glared at the blasters long enough for her companions to charge.
The armsmen almost started to retreat, taken by surprise—but then reflex took over as Yorick slammed a fist into an armsman's belly, and Chornoi aimed a chop at another's collarbone. They blocked out of sheer reflex, and their mates joined in.
Gwen caught up and spun, back-to-back with Rod, as he furiously blocked and punched. She managed to stop every blow aimed at his back, and if a slender lady's forearm shouldn't have been able to stop a blaster swung by the barrel, who noticed?
Chomoi was chopping and kicking for all she was worth, and three guardsmen surrounded her at a respectful distance; but they were watching for an opening, and kept leaping in for a quick jab. Sometimes she caught them, but they were professionals, too.
Yorick grabbed an arm and a strap and threw an armsmen into one of his mates, but a third caught him with a forearm around the throat and yanked back. Yorick dropped to one knee and lurched back up, bowing, too fast for the armsman to counter. He sailed over Yorick's head, but another armsman slammed a haymaker into Yorick's face as he stood up.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rod saw Chornoi crumple. Apprehension gripped his belly as he thought, This is it, dear. Remember, knock 'em out if they try to kill us—or if they even get fresh!
Aye, my lord, her thought answered. She dropped her guard, closing her eyes, and started to fall just before the blow caught her. Then a sap cracked into Rod's skull, and searing pain heralded darkness.
He came to with a raging headache and a dry-sand thirst. He cracked his eyelids open in a squint, and looked around. All he saw was white tile, and the surface under him was cold, very cold. He rolled his head to the side, and saw Yorick and Chornoi strapped to steel slabs, wrists manacled up next to their heads. As he did, Chornoi blinked, squeezed her eyes shut, then strained them open. Beyond her, Yorick was watching him, looking surly.
Rod took a second while a huge burst of relief washed through him. Then he stared at Chornoi and raised one eyebrow in question. She squinted against pain, but she nodded. Beyond her, Yorick shrugged.
So. They were okay. Now the apprehension could claw loose. Where was Gwen? She was supposed to have stayed awake the whole time, faking unconsciousness.
He heard a soft moan behind him.
Rod turned his head quickly and winced at the pain, but opened his eyes wider.
He saw Gwen with her eyes closed. Frantically, he felt for her mind, and found it lulled, buffered, adrift on a sea of drugs.
Rage erupted in him, but he fought to hold it in. Not yet. Soon—but not yet. Not quite.
The anger abated a little, enough for him to notice a nearby voice saying, "But why didn't any of them use any of those tricks we've been hearing about?"
"They did," another voice snapped. "They froze the blasters."
"All right, so they did pull one. But just one! From what I've been hearing about this gang, they had a hundred gimmicks like that in their arsenal!"
"So they panicked," the second voice snarled. "Or maybe their tricks really were just a bunch of gadgets, no matter what superstitious claptrap you've been hearing!"
"Then where are they?"
"In a trash cycler, dodo! They ran out of power, and these yahoos threw them away! Now will you shut up and get busy finding out what they know about those gadgets?"
The other man grumbled and turned. He saw three out of four looking at him, and stopped short. "Bruno!"
Bruno turned. "What? Oh, they've come around! Well, isn't that cozy? Okay, folks, let me explain—you're going to tell us everything you know about those gadgets you used, especially that force-field generator and the invisibility field. And, of course, everything about this revolutionary underground you're working for. If you don't want to, you're going to go through an awful lot of pain, but you'll wind up telling us, don't doubt it."
"Wwwhy… why not use drugs?" Chornoi still squinted against a headache.
"Because it isn't as much fun." Bruno grinned. He looked up, and saw the direction of Rod's gaze. "No, don't go looking for any help from her! We got our doubts about her, so we did use drugs to knock her out. She won't wake up for another dozen hours." He fell silent, eyes narrowing as he stared at Rod. Then he nodded and moved forward. "We'll start with you—and the old-fashioned methods."
Rod felt hands undoing his manacles. Frantically, he retreated inside his own mind, remembering the analog-appearance his mind had given him for the inter-universal realm they'd traveled from Tir Chlis. He knew he only had a few seconds before the beating started, and with that kind of sensory stimulation, he'd never achieve a trance.
But he made it—awareness of his body faded out as it was being lifted upright. Through the limbo about him, he reached out for the feel of Gwen's mind. There it was, a fragile hull on waters of Nepenthe, slumbering, removed. Gently, he moved closer, merged, melded, and moved inside. Waken, he thought. We're all done for if you don't. I might be able to handle them alone—but I might not. It hurt him to say it, but he had to.
Dimly, he felt a stirring; but she lapsed.
They could kill us, he thought. We might never waken.
This time, there was response—the single thought, Together.
Rod hauled back on the reins of exasperation, reminding himself that women's romanticism wasn't completely incurable. If that basic drive could be met in oblivion, there was one that couldn't. Grimly, he conjured up a vision of Magnus hugging a weeping Cordelia to him, while a glum-looking Geoffrey sat by, holding a dry-eyed but fearful Gregory. Alone, without us, he thought. Can you bear to leave them to strangers?
He had the impression of a titan, roaring up from the waters to look around. Then it clambered up, rage building into an avalanche.
Rod got out, and got out fast. Limbo seemed very safe suddenly.
But Gwen would awaken, and fight those sadists alone.
He pulled himself back down, forced himself to become aware of his body…
And it hit. Pain. Every square inch of his body ached, and some of it seemed to burn. Instantly he was aware, seeing, as Bruno threw him back against the steel slab in disgust. "This is getting us nowhere! You'd swear the guy doesn't even have a mind! Go get the probes, Harry!"
Rage built, at two brutes who would so maltreat a helpless body—Rod's helpless body! And they meant to do it to his friends, too—and his wife! The rage rose, and Rod welcomed it, reaching down into it for the power he needed…
But beside him, manacles burst like grenades, and Gwen stepped away from her slab, fury fairly flaming from her.
Bruno and Harry slammed into the wall, their bodies actually seeming to grow thinner for a moment before they slid to the ground.
Gwen turned, glaring in wrath. "They have hurt thee!" she cried, and began to touch and probe Rod's body. Wherever she laid her hand, the pain abated as the neurons stopped firing. But even as she did it, howls of agony filled the air, then were still.
Chornoi stared in horror. "What the hell was that?"