Armageddon Run

Chapter Nineteen

The Doktor strode from his tent and stared at the pair in front of him.

One was Thor. The other was a short man, standing slightly under five feet in height, who was covered with a coat of light brown hair. His body was well proportioned and muscular, but his face was a startling contrast to his physique. His nose was circular and protruded at a slant above his large oval mouth. Beady brown eyes were focused on his creator in abject fear. The corners of his mouth tended to chronically droop, exposing his oversized teeth.

The sun was just clearing the eastern horizon.

“What is it, Thor?” the Doktor demanded impatiently. “I told you not to awaken me unless it was absolutely necessary.”

Thor bowed deferentially. “I’m sorry, Doktor, but I felt this was important.”

“What is it?”

Thor extended his right arm. Clutched in his furry right hand was a bloodstained buckskin shirt.

The Doktor took the shirt and examined the fabric, noting the back of the garment had been torn to shreds. “What is this?”

Thor glanced at the one to his left. “Tell him. Boar.”

Boar went to speak, but hesitated.

Thor hefted the sledgehammer in his left hand. “Tell him!” he bellowed.

“Do you know where this shirt came from?” the Doktor asked in a calm tone of voice, smiling at the terrified Boar.

“Y… y… yes,” Boar stuttered.

“Tell me,” the Doktor coaxed him.

Boar began wringing his hands together. “You promise you won’t get mad?”

A steely gleam flickered across the Doktor’s features. “Mad? Why should I get mad?” He walked up to Boar and placed his right arm around his underling’s shoulders. “Tell the Doktor all about it.”

Boar took a deep breath. “I was going to tell you myself, really! Thor didn’t need to bring me.”

The Doktor held up the bloody shirt in his left hand. “I’m waiting.”

“I was going to tell you about it this morning,” Boar said nervously.

“When I saw him,” Thor interjected, “he was trying to bury it.”

“Oh?” The Doktor stared into Boar’s eyes. “Are you open to some unsolicited advice?”

Boar’s head bounced up and down.

“Talk to me. Boar,” the Doktor urged softly. “Talk to me right this instant and explain to me where you got this shirt.”

“I took it from the man,” Boar hastily blurted. “Last night I was assigned to patrol the area northeast of the town. I heard this sound, like someone coughing, and when I went to check I found a man hiding in a ravine. There was a horse with him.”

“What happened then?” the Doktor prompted.

“I tried to capture him, to take him alive for questioning,” Boar said.

“But during our struggle I accidentally killed him. The horse ran away.”

Boar paused.

“Where is this man now? Did you bury his body?” The Doktor suppressed an impulse to laugh; he already knew the answers to his questions.

“I… I… d… didn’t bury him,” Boar stammered.

“Oh? What did you do with him?”

“You’ve got to understand!” Boar whined. “We’ve been on short rations since we left the Citadel. I was hungry. No one else was around. What harm was done?”

“You still haven’t told me what you did with the body,” the Doktor said, toying with him.

Boar mumbled some words.

“What was that?” The Doktor grinned. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

Boar started trembling. “I ate it.”

“You ate the body?”

“Yes, Doktor.”

“And when Thor spotted you,” the Doktor deduced, “you were burying the evidence.”

“I brought one of his arms back with me wrapped in the shirt,” Boar said. “Sort of a snack.”

“Sort of a snack,” the Doktor said, mimicking him.

“Are you mad at me?” Boar asked, dreading the answer.

“No.”

“You’re not?” Boar brightened. “You’re really not?”

The Doktor smiled. “No, I’m not mad at you, but…” His right hand fell from Boar’s shoulder, then streaked upward, his fingers clamping on Boar’s throat. He squeezed and heaved, lifting Boar bodily from the ground.

Boar attempted to break the Doktor’s iron grip. He kicked and punched, to no avail.

“But although I’m not mad at you,” the Doktor went on, as if he were giving a lecture instead of strangling someone, “I am upset with you. Don’t you want to know why?”

Boar was gasping for air, his chest heaving.

“I can’t abide liars,” the Doktor commented. “And you are a liar. Don’t you want to know how I know?”

Boar gurgled and thrashed.

“Look at this shirt.” The Doktor held the buckskin shirt aloft. “Take a good look at it.”

Boar’s eyes were bulging from their sockets.

“Notice the back of the shirt,” the Doktor directed. “The man wearing this shirt was jumped from behind. You jumped him from the rear, didn’t you? You didn’t give him a chance to defend himself or surrender, did you?”

Boar wheezed, blood flowing from his nostrils.

“You never tried to take him alive for questioning,” the Doktor said.

“You were hungry. You thought you could kill him and eat him and no one would be the wiser. Am I right?”

Boar’s body was convulsing and quaking.

“Of course I’m right,” the Doktor stated. “If Thor hadn’t found you with the shirt, you wouldn’t have said a word. Correct?”

Blood was now running from Boar’s mouth, down his chin, and dripping on the Doktor’s hand.

“Well, you don’t disagree,” the Doktor remarked. “No, Boar, I’m not mad at you for consuming an impromptu meal. I might have satisfied my appetite too, given a similar set of circumstances. Had you only confessed the truth, I would have pardoned your monumental stupidity. But I can’t pardon a liar. When a person lies to another, it indicates a lack of respect. I’m saddened, Boar, to discover the low esteem in which you hold me.”

Boar’s eyes were glazing.

“I can’t trust a liar,” the Doktor said. “Whether predicated on respect or fear, trust is essential to any relationship. Without trust, there can’t be a mutual rapport. Without trust, how could I possibly rely on you? And if I can’t rely on you, then I don’t have any further need of you, do I?” The Doktor sighed. “You can see I’m right, can’t you?”

Boar was limp in the Doktor’s grasp.

“Our relationship, therefore, is officially severed,” the Doktor stated, and released his hold.

Boar’s lifeless body sank to the hard ground.

“Why didn’t you just fry the turkey?” Thor asked, referring to the slim metal collar around Boar’s neck. All of the Doktor’s genetically engineered offspring wore the collars; it was his infallible technique for insuring obedience. Thor had seen a number of malcontents subjected to the electrocution treatment over the years, their flesh crisped from the neck up by the collars.

The Doktor was inspecting the buckskin shirt. “Applying the personal touch always boosts one’s morale. I needed that.”

“Who do you think the guy was Boar ate?” Thor queried.

“There’s no way of telling from this,” the Doktor replied, waving the shirt in the air. “Buckskins are commonplace apparel outside the Civilized Zone.” The Doktor thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Are you still sending out regular patrols as I ordered?”

“Every quadrant is covered at least once every four hours,” Thor responded.

“And they haven’t seen anything?”

“Not a sign,” Thor verified.

“How odd,” the Doktor commented. “And yet Boar finds a man with a horse hiding in a ravine. Why? What was this man doing there?”

“Maybe,” Thor suggested, “this guy was passing through and had bedded down for the night in the ravine.”

“A possibility,” the Doktor said doubtfully. “But why was he so close to Catlow? Surely he heard the battle waged yesterday.”

“Maybe he came to see what all the racket was about.”

“Another possibility,” the Doktor acknowledged. “But I can’t accept his presence as a mere coincidence. Was he a messenger of some sort? If so, was he carrying a message to the defenders in Catlow? Or was he taking a report from them to someone else?”

“Does it matter?” Thor asked. “Either way, the message didn’t get through. And today we’ll finish off those bastards in Catlow.”

“I find it difficult to believe there are only six of them,” the Doktor mentioned.

“I saw Blade myself,” Thor mentioned, “and some woman behind a tree.

From the descriptions given by some of our troops, we know Hickok and Geronimo are in Catlow too. Two others were also seen. Some fat guy with a beard and another one who wears all black.”

“But there was no sign of Lynx?”

“No one reported seeing him.”

“What are they trying to pull?” the Doktor mused aloud. “Why hasn’t Lynx shown his face? If Lynx is in Catlow, that still means there are only seven of them. Where are the rest?”

“The rest?” Thor repeated quizzically.

“Use your brain, Thor,” the Doktor said testily. “Blade isn’t a moron. He wouldn’t place himself and the others in jeopardy without a sound reason. Catlow is obviously a trap. The question remains: why haven’t they sprung it?”

“There could only be the seven of them,” Thor stressed.

The Doktor glanced at Thor and sighed. “I can see where she was right. Leaving you in charge would be a grievous mistake.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Suffice it to say there must be more of them. Reinforcements must be nearby.”

“Why haven’t our patrols seen any sign of them?” Thor asked.

“How far afield have our patrols been ranging?”

“About two or three miles in every direction,” Thor said.

The Doktor ran his right hand through his shock of dark hair. “Logic would dictate reinforcements be close to Catlow so they could assist Blade as promptly as possible. But if the reinforcements are beyond the three-mile limit, they couldn’t hope to reach Catlow before we…” The Doktor’s face brightened and he snapped his fingers. “Of course!”

“What?” Thor inquired.

“That must be it!” The Doktor started laughing.

“What?” Thor persisted.

“It’s the classic fencing ploy! The feint and thrust!”

“The what?” Thor’s confusion was evident.

“Catlow is a feint,” the Doktor said. He saw the consternation on Thor’s features and decided to elaborate. “In fencing, in boxing, or in any type of combat, you feint when you make a move in one direction, hoping your opponent will concentrate on that move, when all the time you were simply setting up your foe for the real thrust. The Warriors initiated a foray into the Civilized Zone by taking Catlow. But the move is a feint, designed to draw me out so they can launch their main thrust. That’s what the rider was doing hiding in the ravine.”

“The rider?”

“Certainly. He was the one who would contact the reinforcements at the proper time. There’s no other rational explanation!”

Thor pondered the Doktor’s words.

The Doktor laughed triumphantly. “The fools! They have unwittingly played into our hands! Without their messenger, they are stranded in Catlow. They are at our mercy!”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Thor complimented the Doktor. “I would never have figured it out.”

The Doktor’s chest puffed outward. “This is a valuable object lesson. Remember it always. The Genetic Research Division wouldn’t last two seconds without me at its helm.”

“I will always remember,” Thor promised, “and be loyal to you.”

The Doktor placed his hand on Thor’s shoulder. “I appreciate your devotion. It’s why I made you my second in command.”

“Do we attack soon?” Thor asked eagerly.

“After my breakfast.”

“Can I lead the charge today?” Thor requested.

“No.”

“But you didn’t let me lead it yes—” Thor began, and then caught himself before he aroused the Doktor’s volatile temper.

“I did not allow you to participate yesterday because I wanted to observe their defenses before committing my best men,” the Doktor elucidated.

“I held you and the twenty-four members of my personal guard in reserve. Today, though, everybody goes in. All of my G.R.D.’s and the Auxiliaries.”

“Why can’t I lead?” Thor inquired, pouting.

“Somebody else will be leading today,” the Doktor said.

“Who?” Thor questioned, peeved, annoyed at the prospect of the Doktor favoring someone else over him.

“I am personally commanding our troops today,” the Doktor revealed, grinning. “You will ride with me in the half-track.”

“We will crush them!” Thor enthusiastically cried.

The Doktor gazed in the general direction of Catlow. “I hope Blade is enjoying a hearty morning meal. It’s the last one he will ever eat.”