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this? No, I'd be going forth like the dutiful daughter and getting screwed by
every man in
Summerfield."
"Okay, I get it," Claudette replied reluctantly, "so I'll say it again without
the sarcasm. Won't Baron Al have orders to give over the radio when we get
near?"
"I'd guess so," Ayesha replied thoughtfully. "Is that what he's told you?" she
directed toward the driver.
The two sec men stayed silent for a moment, considering whether they should
answer, before the man riding shotgun said reluctantly, "He told us that we'd
get a call from him when we were within ten minutes' drive. That way we'd be
prepared when we get there."
"And you know what 'there' looks like?" Ayesha pressed.
"Yeah," the sec man replied without elaborating.
Claudette spared a glance at Ayesha; it was a glance filled with surprise:
"You're shitting me," she whispered. "He never told you what was going to
happen?"
Ayesha turned on Claudette angrily. "In case it's escaped your notice, I'm a
piece of meat just like you, babe. I didn't get fuck all of a say in what
happened to me, and I'm damn sure that under the circumstances there was no
way my lovely father was going to tell me anything that was going on. You
understand that now?"
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"Yeah, I think I do," Claudette said quietly, "Good, well, let's just get it
together here, because we really need to get some kind of a plan together.
You," she snapped at the sec man who was riding shotgun, and who had been
turned uncomfortably toward them for some time, frightened to move in case he
got blown to pieces, "what happens when we get to the rendezvous?"
"You get exchanged for the seed crops and the food supplies," the man replied
simply.
Ayesha sighed heavily. "Don't be a stupe, or else I'll just get Claudette to
blow you away, okay? I mean tell me exactly what happens, and mebbe you'll get
out of here in one piece."
The sec man paused for a second, unsure as to whether he should say anything.
"Okay, I'll tell you. The plan is that we rendezvous at a bunch of rocks that
form an enclosure, kinda like the field where we primed the wags. That means
that we're covered on all sides, and there's only us and the guys from
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Summerfield in the middle, with no way of anyone sneaking around from the
sides, 'cause there's only one exit at each end. So when we're there, we wait
for them and then we get ourselves into the middle of the space, and we make
the trade. If all goes well, and we get to do it, then you get led out in
those shackles " he inclined his head to the chains and cuffs that were spread
on the floor of the wag " and then we exchange you. They load you up, we load
up the trade and we both back out slowly, keeping an eye on each other."
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"You're not just handing over the wag?" Ayesha asked, a sudden wave of nausea
riding up her throat.
"Hell, no," the sec man replied, "you think we'd hand over something as good
as this? Anyway, they might think that it's booby-trapped. We'd suspect it of
them, right?"
"Oh, shit," Ayesha said softly.
"What do you mean, 'oh shit' ?" Claudette asked. Ayesha looked at her. "I
thought they'd just swap wags. I told the others that we'd hold this wag and
stop these bastards blasting them as long as they left us alone. But what the
fuck are we going to do if we have to leave the wag? Especially if we have to
wear those stupe things," she added, indicating the shackles.
"Okay, girl, don't panic about it," Claudette said, a look crossing her face
that showed she was deep in thought. A thought that was interrupted by Anita,
who still after all this time hadn't stopped crying.
"I told you that it was useless. We're all just meat, and we're going to be
used by those vile bastards."
"Will you shut the fuck up, you irritating bitch?" Claudette snapped, taking a
step back and swinging the barrel of the Uzi so that it caught the heavy
blonde full across the face, leaving her mouth a smear of blood and saliva,
stunning her so much that she couldn't even squeal or cry anymore. Before the
sec man had a chance to move, the iron-faced young woman had the blaster
trained back on him.
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"We're going to have to go through with it at least part of the way," Ayesha
said softly. "No matter what the plan was, we're going to have to go out there
with these shackles on."
"We can't do that," Claudette answered. "If we even make an effort to do that,
then we're in the shit. We can't step out of here holding blasters, and these
mothers will have to have some to make it look convincing, otherwise we bring
the whole of the sec down on us."
"There has to be a way around this," Ayesha said, picking up the shackles and
looking at them. On a close inspection, she could see that the cuffs could be
left unlocked and uncoupled without it appearing too obvious. She looked at
the other women. "Are you with us or against us?" she asked.
The majority of them agreed, glad of any opportunity to try to escape. Those
who were initially unwilling reluctantly agreed when they saw they were
outvoted. Even Anita grudgingly agreed between spitting out mouthfuls of blood
and sobbing.
"Okay, here's what we do," Ayesha said. "We take the blasters and conceal
them, leaving these assholes with one empty blaster that they can wave around.
We go out with the shackles undone, and when it all goes down we head back for
the wag and secure it. That sound good?"
"It sounds risky," Claudette stated, "but it's better than anything I've come
up with, so it'll have to do."
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"Ya know, babe, I don't think we're in any position to worry about it," Ayesha
said. "We'll just have to roll with it."
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Claudette shrugged, and was just about to comment when the voice of Baron Al
crackled over the radio. "The rendezvous point is in sight. The Summerfield
convoy is there, and it looks like we've got a dust storm brewing."
Chapter Eighteen
Correll looked up and sniffed the air. He was standing beside his wag, and had
been there ever since the distant rumble of an approaching convoy had been
detected. The rumble had gotten nearer and finally ground to a halt, the wag
engines just ticking over as the Summerfield convoy stood inert at the
entrance to the arena, waiting for the rival convoy to arrive. From the
opposite direction, a different pitch of noise signaled the approach of the
Charity convoy.
Ryan joined Correll and looked up at the skies.
"Storm," he said simply.
Correll nodded assent. "That'll be good. We may be determined, but we are
outnumbered. Mebbe the confusion will even the odds for us."
Ryan agreed. "We know who we're attacking. They won't be sure what the hell is
going on."
Correll allowed himself the ghost of a smile, which seemed oddly out of place
on his gaunt countenance, and for one second gave the one-eyed man an insight
into the man Correll may once have been.
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