With Robbins and the Efrafan Owsla hot on their tail, Jamie's group retreated back downstairs, as fast as their legs would carry them, heading towards the unexplored sections deep within the bowels of the HAB, hoping to lose their pursuers. Their little prank to make Woundwort and Robbins think they were all dead had backfired big time; now, the enemy was after them again, closing in fast. If they hit a dead end down there, it would all be over.
With the boys carrying Celandine's stretcher between them, they ran, making their way all the way down the stairwell, to Level 4 – to the engineering compartment. Although horribly burdened from carrying the sick doe, not to mention falling behind and increasing their chances of getting caught, they couldn't just leave her, not now that they knew the vaccine they had given her was working, slowly restoring her back to health.
Suddenly, at the foot of the stairs, Kenny tripped, sending the stretcher toppling over and smashing into the railings. Swearing at his friend for his clumsiness, Jamie tried to get the stretcher back upright and keep going, but found one of its wheels had become snagged between the railings. They were stuck.
"Stupid thing, come on, budge!"
Shouting at Hannah to keep the others moving along, the boys and Speedwell continued struggled with the stretcher. Try as they might, it wouldn't budge, leaving the unconscious Celandine trapped, with the Efrafans approaching fast. Sick dread built up inside Jamie, suddenly faced with a terrible dilemma: Celandine couldn't be moved without her stretcher; and if they tried carrying her, she'd slow them down too much, and they'd be caught for sure. So what were they supposed to do?
Speedwell seemed to come to terms with the harsh reality first, as he abandoned trying to help pull the stretcher free and turned to Jamie, "There's nothing we can do. We must leave her…"
"We're not leaving her! They'll kill her…!" Jamie tried protesting, the memory of Nildrohein still fresh in his mind, but the grim expression on Speedwell's face told him it was no use. They had done everything they could for Celandine and more; but this time, they had to finally accept bitter defeat. As Speedwell had said, she was never even meant to make it this far in her condition; but they still had a chance of saving themselves. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he turned to Kenny.
"Come on mate, we've got to make a run for it…"
"No way!" Kenny retorted, "Help me get her out of these! We can still carry her…!" He began hastily undoing the straps to pick Celandine up, but Jamie and Speedwell both grabbed him and ushered him away, just before their murderous pursuers finally caught up. Appearing on the overhead landing, Robbins paused to get a clear shot at them, and the group barely managed to dodge his bullet by darting through a nearby gangway door, which stood ajar at the foot of the stairs, shutting it behind them.
An instant later, Woundwort's Owsla came charging down the stairs. Completely ignoring the semiconscious Celandine still lying strapped onto the wreckage of her stretcher, the savage rabbits, on their Chief's command, moved in for the kill, only to find their way barred by the closed steel door, their angry clawing and pounding sounding from the other side. They had cut themselves off from the enemy once again; but only for a while. With no lock or any other kind of bolt to secure the door from the inside, Jamie realised they only had a moment before Robbins caught up and undid the latch from the other side.
"Keep running, you guys! Don't stop!"
Hurrying along a lengthy catwalk running the full length of the vast compartment they had entered, they saw they were in, what appeared to be, the HAB's engineering section. Towering high as the domed atrium upstairs, the facility's engine room was cluttered with all kinds of heavy machinery, including compressors, dynamos, hydraulic assemblies, reservoirs, and control banks, all connected together by endless lengths of wiring and piping. Rows of railed catwalks and ladders run between the different banks of machinery, providing easy access around for the facility's long-vanished crew. The equipment seemed to be of a very high quality, state-of-the-art technology, only used by government agencies, rarely found in the civilian sector. No doubt, for an engineer, this place would mean more than just a simple powerhouse!
In spite of its former elegance however, the engineering compartment, like the rest of the facility, had long since fallen into disuse; most of the machinery sat dead or broken down, much of it having been cannibalised for parts, covered in the dust and cobwebs of the ages. Only one in three lights were still functioning, running off a single working generator, producing a dim red light, which filled the place, creating shadows and mirages against the derelict machinery, giving it a really spooky atmosphere indeed. In other words, they had found a perfect hiding spot.
Putting a finger up to his mouth, gesturing at his remaining companions to keep quiet, Jamie ushered them into the shadows behind a large water reservoir, and out of sight. Ducking low to hide, the group paused to catch their breaths, their hearts heavy with their latest loss. Although they hadn't actually seen Celandine being killed, now she was undoubtedly back in the hands of the savage Efrafans, from which nobody could possibly expect mercy. As far as logic went, she was as good as lost.
A sniffling Kenny turned to glare at Jamie and Speedwell in silent fury and grief; his friends lowered their heads sadly, not daring to utter a word. There was no point arguing about it; it was either Celandine or all of them. Even Kenny, deep down, knew they had done the right thing; but it still didn't help relieve the anguish and shame of abandoning the doe he can come to love almost like a surrogate mother to her fate, to save themselves. And it still wasn't over.
Peeping from around the edge of the reservoir, they saw the access door slide open slowly; Robbins appeared, aiming his gun, flanked by Woundwort and Vervain. Jamie felt a chill run down his spine; had they found Celandine and were going to use her as a hostage to lure the rest of them out? For an instant, he expected some thuggish Efrafan to appear, dragging their friend by the ears, for Robbins to finish her off in plain view. But it didn't happen. Instead, the murderer cast one more glance around and, seeing nobody, slid the door shut.
Robbins turned to Woundwort, who was calling his Owsla to order. Several rabbits had spotted Celandine and had sprang over to seize her, but stopped dead in their tracks, realising she was infected, giving her a wide birth, weary of supposed contamination. None of them realised she had been treated and was safe, in spite of the strong scent of the disease still lingering about her.
"Keep away from her, you fools! You want to give us all White Blindness?" shrieked Vervain, keeping as far away from Celandine as he could, almost as if afraid the disease would get him first. The Owsla seemed fearful and eager to pull out, but Woundwort's thunderous voice snapped them all back to full attention, their fear of him outweighing their fear of the disease.
"Never mind her, you incompetent fools!" he barked furiously, "The outsiders are in there! Regroup at once and get after them, or so help me, I'll…!" But Robbins interrupted his boss's threats.
"You're playing right into those miserable brats' little game, General," the man scoffed, "Can't you see they're trying to lead us round in circles like little children? Look here…" he continued, taking out some scraps of crumpled paper he had picked up from the control room, which were the schematics of the engine room. Marked clearly on the yellowing diagram were three ways in or out of the engine room: through the stairwell they were standing in; another access door in the opposite stairwell on the far side of the facility; and finally an emergency escape hatch through the elevator shaft.
"Get your gang to circle round and cover all the exits," he said, indicating the two access doors on the diagram, deliberately not mentioning the escape hatch, which he intended to use to make his own escape once he was out of Woundwort's sight. But first, he had to recover his prize the McEwen boy had stolen from him, "I'll go down there myself and chase them out, right into your Owsla's grasp – or I'll kill them on sight if I have to. You just make sure these cretins don't muck it up again." Woundwort nodded in approval.
"Right then, you heard the man," he bellowed, turning to his Owsla, "Split up and station a Patrol at every exit. Kill anyone who tries to escape from below. And anyone who disappoints me this time will be answering to the Black Rabbit of Inle!" One of Woundwort's ways of inspiring constant courage and ruthlessness among his troops was by suppressing their fear with his own terrorising leadership. It was common knowledge in the Efrafan Owsla that falling short in your duties or showing weakness was a punishable offence; and, currently, these meddlesome ithel and their outsider friends escaping them at every turn, was quickly wearing down on the Chief's already thin patience.
Wasting no time, the officers called their Patrols to order and split up, each taking up a guard post at every entrance to the engine compartment, leaving only Woundwort, Vervain, Coltsfoot and Robbins. Robbins turned to his associates.
"All right, I'm going in. The rest of you stay here and cover my back. Anyone comes out besides me, kill him." But Woundwort held him back.
"Wait, Corporal Coltsfoot, you escort him," Woundwort ordered, "Vervain and I will guard this entrance."
Although Robbins had hoped Woundwort would send him down there solo, so he could slip away unnoticed, he knew better than to argue about it and raise his boss's suspicions. Besides, skittish, incompetent Coltsfoot was no big deal; he would simply have to deal with him first once they were out of earshot, and then take care of young McEwen's party. By the time Woundwort would send a reconnaissance party, he would be long gone, and on his way home with his prize. He mind flashed back to when he had tried pulling a similar ploy, trying to escape from Efrafa, only for his plan to be foiled by Alan' party, who had escaped instead. This time there would be no mistakes.
With a nervous Coltsfoot at his side, Robbins led the way into the engineering compartment, brandishing his revolver as he went, leaving Woundwort and Vervain behind to cover their backs. Following the crumpled schematic in his hand, he soon spotted the ladder leading up to the escape hatch at the bottom of the elevator shaft. The time had come to fish or cut bait. He turned to Coltsfoot.
"You go that way and see if you can sniff anyone out, and I'll check the other end. Well, jump to it!" Hesitantly, Coltsfoot obeyed, not realising Robbins was setting him up. Sure enough, no sooner was the young Corporal's back turned, sniffing the grillwork floor for any traces of scent, than his associate was upon him. With lightning speed, Robbins turned his revolver up, grasping it by the nozzle, and walloped the unsuspecting Coltsfoot hard over the head, sending him crumpling to the floor stiff as a board.
Smirking at his success, he stared at Coltsfoot's rigid body at his feet, a trickle of blood running from the back of the buck's head where he had struck him, glad that he had not been forced to fire a shot – not that he cared about not killing Coltsfoot, but to conserve his limited remaining ammunition, which he might need to make it out of here. Reminding himself that he was on borrowed time, and that there was no turning back anymore, he pushed the unconscious Coltsfoot off the edge of the catwalk, behind an inoperative dynamo and out of site, and moved on. One bird down; one more to go, and I'm home-free…
Meanwhile, Jamie and his party weren't just sitting idle; unbeknownst to Robbins and Woundwort, their voices carried through the ventilation system, so the group could hear everything that was being said behind the door. Realising the Efrafans would try and circle round and trap them, Jamie and Kenny had quietly scurried around, looking for anything they could use as a weapon. Kenny now stood armed with a heavy monkey wrench he had found in a nearby cabinet, muttering vengeful threats under his breath; if any Efrafan came their way, it would be his pleasure to break every bone in his body, to avenge his beloved Celandine.
Jamie, meanwhile, had improvised a better weapon; by unscrewing the power feed cable from a nearby control bank, he stood beneath the overhead catwalk, waiting to zap the steel grillwork flooring, and electrocute the Efrafans as they came along. Although he had no idea if there was enough power to kill, he hoped it would enough to at least stun their pursuers and snatch away Robbins' gun. If it worked, then, they'd have a chance. Hannah sat perched on an overhead gantry, keeping a sharp lookout
Outlining his plan, Speedwell, Hickory and Marigold had broken cover, standing in plain view at the far end of the catwalk alongside Kenny, his ratchet-club hidden behind a pipe within his reach, in case things got out of hand, as the 'bait'. The haversack with the kittens also lay beside the Owsla buck, which would serve as their 'life insurance'. They didn't have to wait long before Jamie saw Hannah giving him the thumbs up, signalling that the enemy was coming. Not a moment too soon, they heard footsteps approaching, and Robbins came into view. Watching from his hiding spot, Jamie couldn't suppress a smile, noticing he was alone; with only one opponent to deal with, the odds were on their side.
At the sight of the group, Robbins raised his gun, "Small world, isn't it? And I was beginning to enjoy watching your little evasion games trying Woundwort's temper… Now line up so I can see you and don't move!" On Speedwell's reassurance, the rabbits half-heartedly obeyed, cringing at the sight of the deranged man holding them at gunpoint, thinking he was about to do them in any second now. But, as Speedwell had assumed, he didn't, not while they still had his prize.
Sure enough, Robbins' eyes fell upon the haversack and he slowly began making his way towards them to retrieve it. Although, he hadn't failed to notice the suspicious absence of Jamie, he couldn't care less, not when he had his precious prize within reach. Most likely, the boy was hiding somewhere else, scared stiff. He would just leave them all to Woundwort and his Owsla, while he snuck away in the confusion. Unfortunately, like many others of his type, he was seriously underestimating the fact that, in dire circumstances, even children sometimes have a fighting spirit in them. Therefore, little did he realise that he was walking straight into a trap until it was too late.
Suddenly, Robbins' military instinct, developed after many years of harsh training in the top terrorist forces in the world, told him something was wrong. Glancing down at the floor between his shoes, he saw Jamie's grinning face grinning up at him, the sparking cable clutched in the boy's hand. Before he could react, Jamie touched the live wire to the catwalk, causing it to burst into a shower of sparks as the uninsulated steel grillwork conducted the current like an electric fence. The voltage regulators on a nearby circuit panel, where the cable was attached to, exploded, as the system shorted out.
Robbins screamed, erupting into spasms, before crumpling to the floor, electrocuted. A shot flew from his gun as his twitching finger squeezed the trigger, harmlessly bouncing off some nearby machinery, before the weapon slipped from his limp hand. Although the current had indeed not been high enough to fry him, it had stunned him like with an electric baton – and, in their joy of seeing Robbins go down, Jamie's group hadn't noticed.
Jamie wasted no time; discarding the smoking cable, he hurried for the fallen gun, which had landed between some pipes a short distance away from its owner, while Kenny, wrench in hand, sprang at Robbins to clobber him, but stopped when he saw him limp and unmoving, thinking he was dead. Picking the weapon up with shaky hands, Jamie struggled to figure out how to discharge it. He had never handled a gun before in his life and only had a hazy idea of how it worked. As it had just been fired, he knew he knew that the safety catch had to be off, and so all he had to do was load a new bullet from the magazine. Or was it the type with an automatic reloading mechanism?
Before he could figure it out, suddenly, Robbins, as quickly as he had collapsed, was wide-awake and on his feet again. Drawing a concealed knife from his belt, he sprang for his nearest prey: Marigold. Jamie tried shooting at Robbins but the gun, with its disengaged repeater, didn't fire. The doe screamed in terror as the man seized her by the ears, holding her as a shield, the six-inch blade of the knife pressed hard against her throat. Hickory was about to lunge forward to help his mate, but Speedwell held him back, before he could do something he'd regret.
"Very cunning move; and very stupid too," sneered Robbins, slowly backing away from the group, using Marigold as a hostage, "You dumb little brats, you really think I'd fall to some pitiful amateur's booby trap…? Now then, game's over. I'll only say something once and anyone who disobeys or tries anything at all will get to see this charming girl be given a live autopsy! You, boy, put the gun on the floor and toss it towards me. And no tricks."
Although hesitant to comply with this madman's demands, one who was out to kill them anyway, his fear for Marigold's life won out and he did as he was told. The revolver came sliding across the floor towards Robbins, who put his foot on it, making sure nobody tried to make a grab for it when he wasn't looking, while Kenny dropped his wrench on the floor. Smirking triumphantly, he turned to Speedwell.
"Now, you, pick up that haversack and pass it over. Nice and slowly." Speedwell looked appalled; Robbins wanting them all dead to settle his old grudge with Alan was bad enough, but now he was above killing newborn kittens too? Those that happened to be the last remaining link to his beloved Violet? Or was he up to something else? Desperate for some way to keep him preoccupied long enough until he made some mistake that might allow them to regain the upper hand, Speedwell tried talking.
"What do you want them for? Frith of Inle, haven't you done enough already? They mean nothing to you…" But Robbins only sneered nastily.
That's where you're very wrong, my dear fellow," he chuckled, a hungry look in his insane eyes, "You'd think I'd willingly join that brainless Woundwort's forces on a lifelong commitment? Not at all. I merely needed his muscle on my side long enough for me to put your friend Alan in his proper place as he deserved, and then take my leave with my spoils from this escapade. Such a pity I'll be disappointing Woundwort with my 'resignation', after having made such a good impression…"
Jamie's mind flashed back to those solar charger components they had seen in the machine shop upstairs. So that's what Robbins had been working on; he meant to get his glider airborne again and escape back to the 21st century, bringing a sample of this crazy future world back with him, with which he would undoubtedly make an enormous – and dirty – profit. They all glared back at Robbins in disgust, realising he was even willing to double-cross his own associates for his own gain.
"Woundwort will skin you alive when he finds out you've been using him," blurted out Speedwell, who, being Owsla, regarded such a tactic as utterly disgraceful. But Robbins didn't seem the least cornered about the prospect of being discovered as he coolly replied, "What that oaf doesn't know won't hurt him. He never realised I tried double-crossing him back at Efrafa - until your friends came along and spoiled everything. Only I had the brains to salvage the situation before I could lose it, and that idiot Campion took the fall instead when he let his tender heart get the better of him…"
Little did Robbins realise that he was, unknowingly, making a big mistake. Thinking he was safely out of earshot of Woundwort and free to brag about his accomplishments to Jamie's group out of sheer malice before he finished them off, he had no idea that his voice carried through the ventilation ducts, much like through a voice tube, all the way back to the stairwell, loud and clear for his associates to hear his every word…
Meanwhile, Woundwort and Vervain, hearing Robbins's voice from the acoustic effect created by the ventilation ducts, were listening intently, their ears hungry for the outsiders' death cries as Robbins finished them off like the worthless vermin they were.
With Woundwort sitting idly, a faint smile on his face, Vervain looked extremely sulky, overcome by jealousy and spite. No doubt that human would be handsomely rewarded for his latest success by his master, pushing him, Woundwort's favourite – at least, as far as he was concerned –, even further away from the spotlight. Although even he was beginning to accept that Robbins might actually be a great advantage to them, he just couldn't accept any competition. Campion was finally out of the picture; but now, Robbins had taken up his place as Woundwort's right paw ally, rather than him. Why did life have to always be so unfair? Personally, Vervain felt tempted to even sell his soul to the Black Rabbit of Inle, for a chance for glory…
The traitorous confession caught them both completely by surprise. Vervain snapped back to his senses first, his sly mind shouting at him to seize this opportunity of making his way back into the spotlight by having suspected a traitor when no one else had, "You see, General? I told you Robbins was playing us false! He's just another traitor, like Campion!" These words seemed to literally hit Woundwort like bullets, realising his mistake, and feeling his anger skyrocketing. How dare that ungrateful human double-cross him! If word of this got out… With a roar of rage, he rounded on Vervain, who flinched, expecting his master to explode.
"You are not to breath a word of this to anyone, Captain Vervain! Am I clear?" he hissed, giving his skittish officer a murderous stare, "I don't care if you suspected him all along, but I will not be made a fool of, so keep your mouth shut!" Vervain, trembling, still weary of Woundwort giving him a beating out of sheer petulance, nodded, "Y…yes, Sire."
"So, we have two traitors then," Woundwort went on, struggling to calm his nerves and think straight, "But no matter; I will deal with Robbins myself. If he thinks he's one step ahead of me, I'll show him just how wrong it is to challenge the mighty General Woundwort…just as I should have done from the start!" Vervain couldn't help but utter a triumphant smirk at those words. Knowing his master, he'd take care of Robbins nice and quietly, and then he, Vervain, would be the General's favourite once again!
"…All right, enough chitchat," barked Robbins, still holding the terrified Marigold hostage, Alan's Johnson's stolen knife pressed hard against her throat, "Last chance; hand over the kittens or she dies!"
Seeing no other way out of this, Jamie gently took the haversack from the reluctant Speedwell, muttering that they'd get them back later somehow, and slowly passed it to Robbins's outstretched hand. The man swung the sack over his shoulder, a sickening look of success in his eyes. Then, still holding Marigold hostage, he bent down with one hand and picked up his revolver. Jamie froze.
"You've got what you wanted from us. Just let us go, please…" he pleaded, but Robbins only chuckled nastily, aiming his gun at them. As Jamie had feared, this butcher meant to put them up against the wall anyway. His first thought was to shout at his friends to run - only there was nowhere to run. They were surrounded by towering machinery on either side of the catwalk, and by the time either of them could make it to the nearest corner, to duck out of the range of fire, Robbins would have mowed them down.
"Sorry, fellas and girls," he sneered maliciously, "But you've caused a too big a headache to let you walk away. Anyhow, I can't risk you exposing my defection to Woundwort until I'm safely out of here." He turned to Jamie, disengaging the safety catch, "So, you first, young Mr McEwen. How's it going to be? You want to see it coming, or would you rather turn around first…?"
"You, traitor…!"
The unexpected sound of an angry voice caught them all by surprise; turning, they saw a battered and staggering Coltsfoot, whom Robbins had left for dead, glaring at his former associate. After regaining consciousness, having only suffered a minor head wound, rather than going back to the General to report what had happened, fearful that Vervain might accuse him of running and letting the traitor escape, revoking his promotion, in a foolhardy act of utmost desperation, the young corporal had instead resorted to going after Robbins himself. "I'm turning you in to the General…!"
But Robbins, annoyed at the interruption, drew his gun away from Jamie and turned it on Coltsfoot, preparing to finish him off, as he should have done earlier. This, however, gave Jamie's group that second of distraction they needed, and sprang into action.
Jamie lunged at Robbins, grabbing his gun hand, while Kenny, hastily retrieving the wrench, came charging, swinging his weapon at their attacker. The ensuing shot meant for Coltsfoot sailed over his head in a near-miss, as Robbins was thrown off-balance from the heavy wrench connecting with his left shoulder. Marigold slipped from his grip and run, just as Kenny, in a fit of vengeful rage, struck the man again, this time in the groin. With a howl of pain, he sunk to the floor.
"That's for Celandine, you bastard!"
Before any further action could be taken however, suddenly, the scuffle was interrupted by a new noise: an explosion. The fighting instantly ceased, as they all turned and saw Robbins' 'missed' bullet had actually found another target – one no gunman in his right mind would ever dare fire at.
Extending from the large water reservoir hiding them from sight was a large pipe, the size of a sewer tunnel, leading out through the outer wall, to, where Jamie figured was, the river, pumping water back into the reservoir, which, in turn, fed the HAB's water supply system. At midsection was a rack of propane cylinders, used to power some of the machinery. In the midst of his obsession to retrieve his prize, Robbins had negated all sense of caution, forgetting that an engine compartment – even a derelict one like this – was a dangerous place for a shootout, filled with equipment not meant to be disturbed. And his bullet had just struck one the cylinders, shattering the valve, and causing the flammable gas to be unleashed in a fiery torrent, like a flamethrower out of control.
"Run, that thing's going to blow…!"
In an instant, the whole group were scampering to their feet, desperate to get away from that ticking firebomb, before it happened. The burning cylinder suddenly exploded, setting off several more cylinders alongside it in the process, creating a massive fireball and flying shrapnel, which swept the room. The group were all swept off their feet in the blast, as they. Jamie barely managed to roll behind a control bank, shielding him from the shrapnel, hardly registering the form of Coltsfoot sent flying by the explosion. Then the flames began to die down. Just when it seemed the worse was over, a new disaster struck.
With a loud thud, the massive water pipe above the propane cylinder rack, damaged by the explosion, split open, as one of the ancient gaskets between two flanges gave way. Then came gushing out from the split a roaring torrent of water. As the HAB was built several feet below ground level, the engine compartment being the lowest section of all, the water was coming in at dangerously high pressure, like a breach in a ship's hull.
Without having even fully recovered from the explosion, the group found themselves facing a new danger: an underground tsunami. Within seconds, the water was sweeping the room, swamping them all. Like bilge rats on a sinking ship, they all turned round to flee, running for the exits, realising the place would soon be flooded. But nature's forces always exceed those of man; before they knew it, the water was carrying them all along, slamming them against the obstructing machinery, or swallowing them up into whirlpools created by the water rushing in to fill up any air pockets in its path.
Robbins struggled against the wrath of the water, grabbing onto anything solid he could reach, struggling to make his way back to the gangway door. Any minute now, this room would be completely submerged; he had to reach the exit and seal that damn door, otherwise the whole HAB would soon be lost…along with his only means of escaping from this world!
Pulling himself frantically along a pipe, he saw the flight of stairs leading up to the door, Woundwort and Vervain still waiting for him where he'd left them. Although he had hoped to have made it out through the escape hatch, and be home-free, at least he had made it out alive, and with his prize. He could always wait for the next opportunity to escape Woundwort's clutches. With great effort, he managed to reach out and grab hold of the railing. But the suction against his legs was too strong for him to pull himself out of the water. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a massive whirlpool, caused by a flooding air duct below, swallowing up anything floating. Struggling not to lose his grip, he saw Woundwort tower over him.
"General, help me! I can't hold on…!" But, to Robbins' utmost shock, Woundwort, instead of rushing to the aid of his most prized servant and ally, glared down at him.
"You sought to betray me, Robbins," he said coldly, his red eye burning with silent rage, "When you came into my service, I made it absolutely clear that if you ever decided to double-cross me, I'd kill you myself! Well, you lies won't help you now!" Despite facing death by drowning on one end and a killer giant rabbit on the other, Robbins didn't lose his nerve. His shocked expression, wondering how could have Woundwort found out, turned to one of cold sneering, as he finally revealed his true colours.
"Yes, that's right, you dumb oaf, I always intended to desert you in the end. I never had any loyalty for your so-call rule to begin with. Such a shame you should figure out now; I had hoped we would part ways on friendly terms. Guess we'll have to do this the hard way…" His hand reached for his revolver in his belt, about to shoot his boss-turned-opponent dead. But Woundwort, having anticipated this move, acted first. With one powerful blow, he cuffed Robbins across the face, sending him plummeting back into the water.
He and Vervain watched as their associate-turned-traitor was swallowed up by the whirlpool, Robbins barely managing to keep his head above water long enough to shout a last threat, "You'll pay for this, Woundwort! I swear it!" Then his head went under and he was gone.
With the water rising fast, Woundwort and Vervain slipped back outside and nudged the bulkhead door shut, keeping the water from entering the stairwell. The rest of the Owsla, hearing the explosion, had also retreated and were fleeing upstairs, yelling that the place was flooding. This time Woundwort didn't even bother chastise them for deserting their posts in supposed cowardice. They were finished here and it was time to pull out.
"What about her, General?" asked Vervain, gesturing at Celandine still lying semiconscious at the foot of the stairs, seemingly dying, "She's still alive…"
"Well, that's unfortunate, because we're leaving her here," said Woundwort coldly. There were also a few of the original outsiders still held locked up below, but the Owsla needn't waste their time evacuating them. They would drown soon, like that little ithe and his friends, and they'd be rid of them. Right now, they had more pressing matters, "Get everyone assembled and ready to pull out. We're returning to Efrafa, Captain Vervain."
"But, Sire," protested Vervain, "What about mankind's legacy? We still haven't found it…" But Woundwort, remembering the three canisters of nitroglycerine Robbins had salvaged, was satisfied. Although this escapade was obviously not an ultimate triumph as he had hoped, the nitroglycerine would still present him with a great advantage in his endless war of conquest. His power to destroy and enslave now definitely surpassed the strength of any enemy Owsla, and that was enough for now. Someday, the moment for his ultimate rise to absolute power would arrive as well, and he would be waiting.
"I said, we're done here," he barked at Vervain, who nodded in acknowledgement, "We still have to find the leader ithe and the outsider Chief. Once we're back in Efrafa, I want all the prisoners interrogated all over again by your Owslafa, one by one, until they tell you what I want to know. Make sure you don't miss anything…"
"Sire, I think I have a way to get information out of those scum," said Vervain, remembering something, "That mad prisoner we picked up here, Cowslip's mystic, Silverweed is rumoured to have the power to read minds, not unlike that troublemaker runt, Fiver. With your permission, I can make him work for us…with some persuasion perhaps…" Woundwort's sinister face curled into a broad smile.
"You've got more intelligence than I gave you credit for, Captain Vervain," he said smoothly, "If this theory of your works, you can expect a promotion as my personal second-in-command." Vervain's sinister laugh of triumph echoed throughout the deserted HAB, as they followed the Owsla back upstairs, towards the elevator shaft, leaving Jamie's party to their watery tomb. Nobody noticed the doe they had left for dead slowly open her eyes, coming out of her fever-induced coma. Celandine was finally waking up…
Author's note: Sorry for the long delay, but my military service had allowed me extremely limited writing time. However, now I've been transferred to the Pentagon and I might have weekends off. We shall see. Anyway, enjoy and PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!