Location: Lower Volcanic Peak, Dark Mountains
Sol: 20
Back in the Exile's lair, Castor, his second-in-command Tristian and the jailor Moe were sitting in their master's living quarters, waiting impatiently for news. It was nearly nightfall and still no sign of the party Castor had sent up there to retrieve the human's flying ship. What was taking them so long?
Castor sat in silence; Tristian was pacing around impatiently, muttering threats and curses, while Moe sinisterly caressed the razor-sharp blade of his dagger. He would be delighted to use it on the Brisby brats, slit their throats one by one, starting with that impudent eldest Brisby girl, but knew it was out of the question without his master's orders – an order that would be given if that accursed human failed to return soon.
The twin suns of Nimh-Beta were sinking on the horizon and the cold wind of the approaching night was sweeping across the fog-laden Dark Mountains, as Josh and Jonathan made their way back down the mountain, towards the Exiles' lair for their upcoming attack. Neither of them had said much since leaving the TEM-One landing site, each preferring to keep his thoughts to himself. They simply couldn't afford to get sidetracked right now; they had a dangerous mission ahead of them and the lives of Elizabeth's children depended on their success.
With them, they carried the tools for their mission: Josh's makeshift laser gun, the radio, as well as the Tem-One's remote-controlled rover and even a box containing one of the probe's payload parachutes, which they'd need for the infiltration and finally their getaway down the mountain.
As they came within site of the Exiles' compound, through Josh's inferred goggles, they saw there were more guards than usual standing watch at the gate – an entire garrison, numbering at least a dozen. Josh paled; perhaps Castor had gotten wind that they'd escaped? Could they already be too late? Reassuring himself that everything was fine, if not tight for time with the approaching sundown, after which the children would be executed, he and Jonathan took cover behind a rock to go over their plan one more time.
"All right, it's time to fish or cut bait," said Josh, "Remember, I lead the way forward and you cover my back. I trust you won't try and backstab me again?" Jonathan solemnly nodded, still feeling ashamed for his earlier attempt on Josh's life. "Good enough. Now, once we're in there, we'll have to move quickly; and we must leave no, I repeat no, survivors; if one of those goons gets away and sounds the alarm before we can get to them, the children are done for." Although the idea of engaging in a mass killing spree made Jonathan recoil, he knew they had no choice.
Exchanging glances one more time, the pair sprang into action. Josh typed a series of commands onto his suit's touch-pad, which he'd reprogrammed to link up with the probe's little rover they'd brought down with them from the mountain. The small six-wheeled machine, its rotating camera working as Josh's eyes, moved along the narrow footpath, towards the entrance, stopping right in the middle of the crowd of guards.
The Exiles were caught by surprise at the alien humming sound of the rover, which came riding lazily into their midst like a crawling tortoise and stopping at their feet, its rotating eye (or rather its camera) staring at each of them in turn. They all crowded around the strange machine, curiously prodding and nudging it with the tips of their swords.
"What kind of creature is this?" asked one, staring at the crystal solar panels protruding from the rover's back, which resembled wings, "Some kind of giant insect?"
"No, you fool, it's some kind of contraption," said another, noticing by the light of his flaming torch that the device was obviously artificial, the product of some advanced craftsmanship, the likes of which none of them had ever seen before. It was only then that the Exiles noticed the taunting message Josh had scribbled on the rover's cover in phosphorescent marker ink:
HOW DOES IT FEEL, KNOWING YOU ARE ABOUT TO DIE?
Too late, the Exiles realised the rover was just an elaborate decoy, a distraction to let their guard down for one moment. Without warning, Josh stepped out of the shadows, laser in hand, and pulled the trigger. The sweeping red beam found the Exiles at waist-height, cutting clean through flesh and bone like a knife through hot butter. The Rats never knew what hit them before their bisected and dismembered corpses fell to the ground in pieces. Although cauterised and sizzling, the wounds were still bleeding out torrents from ruptured arteries. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air.
Josh and Jonathan stepped forward, the latter trying not to puke at the sight of this carnage, while Josh made sure there were no survivors they may have overlooked. Their feet squelched in pools of blood coming from the corpses. Their victims' faces stared back at them with lifeless eyes, frozen forever in shock at the unknown force that had killed them. At that moment, another Exile, probably a relief guard, appeared at the gate. He froze in shock at the sight of the returned human and Jonathan Brisby standing over the slaughtered bodies of his comrades. But Josh didn't wait for him to come to his senses; with another sweep of his laser, he sent the Rat toppling over, headless, his decapitated head rolling away like some freak Halloween pumpkin.
But no sooner had the latest dead Rat dropped out of his line of vision than Josh noticed the shadow of yet another guard in the background running for his life, retreating back down into the hideout, screaming for help. Josh muttered a curse. In another minute, their cover would be blown.
"Damn it! Come on, move, move!" And they stormed the hideout. It was time to kill some Exiles – every last one of them. In another moment, all hell had broken loose...
In Castor's quarters, the leader of the Exiles and his lieutenants were sitting quietly, toasting their soon-to-be success with a goblet of wine, when they were ever so rudely interrupted by a semi-hysteric Rat guard who came barging in without even knocking, his clothes all splattered with blood. Castor raised an eyebrow.
"What's the meaning of this?"
"It's the human and Brisby, sir!" screamed the Rat, his usual brutish and bloodthirsty expression, very distinct among the Exiles, completely gone and replaced with plain fear, which disgusted Castor, "They've got some kind of...weapon that's just hacked the entire garrison to pieces! Oh, you've finally provoked the wrath of the gods, Castor! That human is the avenger of the Great Owl Himself! He'll kill us all...!" But Castor never gave him a chance to finish and furiously run the Rat through with his sword, cutting off his pathetic hysteria. This cowardly worm had no doubt run from the fight and allowed the enemy to break in. But Castor wasn't born to be a good loser. He stood up.
So, the human and Brisby had dared defy him. No doubt they had tricked those fools he'd sent along to watch them by leading them into some death trap and had now they'd come back with some unheard-of lethal weapon to save those brats? But no matter, this outrage would have severe repercussions for both of them! And no weapon some filthy human could contrive was powerful enough for what he was about to serve up to them. He turned to Tristian.
"Get as many as you can to the safety point and barricade the doors. We're sending out Dragon!" In spite of his own ruthlessness, Tristian recoiled at the thought of such an insane plan – to turn a murderous cat loose inside their own hideout, to hunt down the human and Brisby. Whoever couldn't make it to safety in time, if not killed by the human, would almost certainly be killed by Dragon! His boss was clearly mad. And it got worse.
"Tristian, you're in charge of luring Dragon to the intruders. And I want that weapon the human is carrying brought back to me, undamaged – it could be very useful to our cause..."
"Sir, that's plain suicide...!" Tristian tried protesting, but seeing his master's drawn sword, still dripping with the blood of the slain guard who had disappointed Castor by bringing him bad news, he swallowed his tongue and hurried out to carry out his orders. After all, as second-in-command, he could sacrifice as many of his men as he needed from a distance of complete safety. Castor then turned to Moe.
"It's time for us to end this," he told the jailor coldly, "Kill the children!" Moe looked like his birthday had come early...
Josh and Jonathan made their way deep into the Exiles' lair, leaving more and more victims in their wake. Every few seconds they'd be set upon by the odd Exile hiding in a corner, all of which were instantly zapped to pieces by Josh's laser – the screams of those unlucky enough not to have died instantly, which they left in pools of their own blood to die slowly, filled the place.
Entering the torture cavern, they were attacked by yet another Exile, which Josh recognised as the cook who boiled Castor's expired torture victims into soup, who made a mad dash at Jonathan from behind with a cleaver. Josh barely managed to shove Jonathan out of his line of fire and give the cook a taste of the laser. The Rat sunk to the floor, as dead as the victims used in his soup, cradling his entrails that came spilling out of a gaping wound in his abdomen.
"It doesn't look like anyone will be enjoying his blood chow again anytime soon," Josh smirked at Jonathan who nodded grimly, glad to see this scoundrel, who'd cook and eat members of his own species, lying dead before them.
As they still had no idea where Castor might have the children locked up, they had planned to make for the dungeons first, where Josh had found Fievel and the other prisoners. They had almost made it to the stairs when their so far successful siege finally took a jot to the left. It was Jonathan who noticed the massive shadow looming over them, silent as a cat...
"Josh, watch out!"
For the rest of his life, Josh would wonder why Jonathan did what he did at that fatal moment, sacrificing himself in his place for what would have otherwise been a bloody stupid and horrible demise. It happened in the blink of an eye; suddenly, Josh felt himself being shoved forcefully out of the way and as he turned round, realising there was trouble, he saw poor Jonathan being snatched away by a pair of gigantic fang-lined jaws belonging to a familiar mountain of hissing fur – Dragon!
Jonathan screamed in agony as Dragon grabbed him, using one paw to pin his body down, the monstrous cat's jaws playing a tug-of-war with his upper torso, about to rip him in half and devour him. Josh whirled the laser on Dragon, zapping the cat on the side of the head. The ray grazed the cat, slashing off Dragon's left ear, but not killing him. Nonetheless, it did the trick; with a screech of pain, Dragon let go of Jonathan, dropping him, all bloodied and mangled. With a furious hiss at Josh, the gigantic cat abandoned its would-be meal, turned tail and fled.
Josh hurried over to Jonathan; his companion was miraculously still alive, but only barely. The cat's sabre-sized fangs had penetrated his torso all over like spears, severely damaging his internal organs. Cursing himself for not having spotted that blasted cat in time to prevent this, he dug into his survival kit, looking for his medical kit. He knew it was hopeless, but he couldn't just leave Jonathan to die!
"Stay with me, Jonathan! Don't move, don't talk, just stay awake!" he hissed, tearing open Jonathan's shirt to get a better look at his injures. The ribs were all crushed, his lungs ruptured and filling with blood. Josh didn't need to consult his HHC to know Jonathan wasn't going to make it. Sure enough, the young archaeologist, with great effort, grabbed Josh's shoulder.
"Just leave me...you've got to find my children...get them safely back to Elizabeth for me..."
"Like hell am I abandoning you here to die!" retorted Josh, grabbing Jonathan by the shoulders and trying to stand him up so he could carry him along, "You're going home, to your wife...!"
"No, you are going back, Josh..." Josh froze in surprise at those words; their earlier fight up on the mountain seemed like a lifetime ago. Was his companion accepting the fact that he was never meant to get off this godforsaken mountain after all and urging him, Josh, to return in his place? As he put Jonathan back down, the mouse's hollow face, still handsome after all those years of imprisonment and torture, twisted with pain. With his last breath, he mouthed, "Tell Elizabeth I love her and will continue to be with her in spirit..." Those were the last words of the great Jonathan Brisby, who then slumped back in Josh's arms, finally at peace.
Josh stared grief-stricken at his fallen companion - grief that then turned to fury. Although he'd lost numerous comrades in the line of duty before, including his crew, this felt different; he'd let a friend down, let Elizabeth down. Now Jonathan would never see his wife again, never even see his children again, all because of his carelessness! His miserable thoughts were cut short however, remembering he still had to find the children. He'd be damned if he let them down too! Getting back on his feet, he hurried away. As he descended the stairs, he heard the sickening sound of Dragon returning upstairs, devouring Jonathan's dead body.
Dashing along the corridor that led to the dungeons, he came to the cell where he'd met Bridget and Tony Toponi. Fievel was there too, all three of them back in chains, but, much to Josh's utmost relief, still alive and unharmed. Apparently, the Exiles, too preoccupied with him, hadn't bothered to punish them for their escape attempt. Fievel was the first to reach him.
"Josh! You're alive!" he cried with excitement, as Josh fired his laser into the lock of the dungeon door, causing it to melt away like a lump of hot candle-wax, and entering. In another minute he had freed them from their chains. Fievel embraced Josh.
"I rescued your hat," he said, passing Josh his cap bearing the Nimh-One's crest, which he'd lost during the fight with the Exiles. Josh smiled at the boy, "Gee, thanks. Say, would you like to keep it?" He placed it on Fievel's head. The cap was a little too big for him but Fievel seemed to like it anyway.
"We thought you were dead," said Brigit, as Tony helped her out of the cell, "How did you get away?"
"Long story," explained Josh, cutting the chit-chat short, "We've got to get moving. The Exiles have unleashed Dragon to hunt us down." Bridget gasped in fear. "Come on, we're out of here!"
Making their way upstairs, they found a whole army of Exiles waiting to ambush them. Ducking on either sides of a doorway to avoid the incoming barrage of arrows from their crossbows, Josh charged up his laser again before gesturing at Toponi to take Bridget and Fievel away. They didn't have to witness this.
Just as the Rats ceased fire for a brief second to reload, Josh sprang from his hiding place, the sweeping laser slashing through them like an invisible sword. Their iron armour plating proved totally useless against the lethal ray, which mowed them all down in a sea of bisected, beheaded, dismembered, disembowelled and mutilated Rats, their blood flooding the cavern floor. In ten seconds flat it was over.
"Come on!"
They moved on through the sea of slaughtered Rats, heading for a tunnel Josh knew led deeper into the hideout. Bridget, holding Fievel tightly against her dress, sparing him the sight of all this carnage, couldn't resist a glance – the sight of the massacre made her gasp in horror and shut her eyes tight again. Beside her, Tony, who had been staring in horrified amazement at what Josh had done, lost control of his stomach and retched. Josh pitied them for having to witness this; but this was a hard lesson of war. The Exiles were the enemy, who meant to kill or enslave them, as they had done countless others. They had damn well killed Jonathan... And as a soldier, Josh was dutifully eliminating the threat they posed to society. There was nothing unjustified about this mass killing.
At that moment, one of the supposedly dead Rats, who had hit the floor before the laser struck and had been fraying death by lying prone among his dead comrades, jumped to his feet and bolted down the tunnel. But he didn't get far, because Josh calmly whirled the laser on him, hacking his legs off at the knees. With a scream of pain, the Rat fell to the ground, both his legs severed from the knees down.
Running over to him, Josh saw it was Castor's second-in-command Tristian – the bastard who'd set Dragon on him and Jonathan. That was one mistake he wouldn't be making again anytime soon. The Exile lieutenant was clutching the bleeding, semi-cauterised stumps of his legs, yelling and cursing in agony. At the sight of Josh standing over him, laser trained in his face, he screamed.
"No, please, don't kill me! Don't kill me!"
"And why shouldn't I?" growled Josh, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just hack you into little pieces for what you did to Jonathan, you low-life scum!" Beside him, Tony smirked at the sadistic Exile lieutenant, who regularly took great pleasure in whipping him or offering up Bridget to his cronies for amusement, now cowering like a little girl.
"How the mighty have fallen," he smirked, "Kill him, Josh! Let's put some muck on the floor!" This kid and these scumbags sure aren't the best of chums, thought Josh as he poised to fire.
"Wait, I can tell you where the children are!" cried Tristian desperately, somehow managing to stay conscious despite the overwhelming pain and blood loss. Right now, he was willing to make any bargain with this human, if it meant saving his life. At that moment, they were interrupted by Fievel's screams.
"Cat! It's Dragon!"
Glancing over his shoulder, Josh saw the familiar shadow of Dragon approaching from just around the corner. The smell of Rat blood in the air had obviously attracted the cat to the waiting buffet of dead Rats. They had to get out of here. He turned back to Tristian.
"Where are the children? Quick, out with it, and maybe I'll let you live!"
"In Castor's chambers, the secret passage behind the fresco on the wall behind his desk! It leads down to the dungeons." At that moment, Dragon appeared at the door. Josh turned to leave. "No, please, you can't leave me here like this! You've got to help me...!"
"I said I wouldn't kill you – helping you wasn't part of the agreement," he told Tristian coldly, "You sons of bitches sealed your doom the moment you took Elisabeth's children!" Ushering Fievel, Bridget and Tony away, they abandoned the crippled Tristian to the mercy of Dragon, who devoured him a moment later, finally putting him out of his misery.
Moe lazily made his way down to the dungeons where the children were being held, gleaming dagger in hand, ignoring the commotion of the fight raging upstairs. Right now, he had some unfinished business to attend to with the eldest Brisby girl. A pretty little wretch like that mouse was too good to be wasted, at least not before being taught a lesson in submission first. While his master was busy with that wild human beast running loose upstairs, he could have his fun without being interrupted.
The children shrunk back in fear as their dreaded jailor entered their cell. Before any of them could do anything, the massive Rat had grabbed Teresa by the hair, lifting her off the ground, his cruel face looming into his little captive's terrified one.
"Let me go! You're hurting me!" screamed Teresa, feeling as if her scalp was about to be ripped off. No amount of struggling or kicking on her part could loosen Moe's gorilla-like grip. Moe laughed sadistically at her futile efforts.
"Time for you to be taught a little feminine submission, you little whore!" Teresa felt her blood curdle with fear, realising what Moe meant to do to her. The thought alone made her want to scream for death, any death, rather than this.
"Leave my sister alone, you varmint!" yelled Martin furiously, running forward and biting the Rat jailor in the calf. The thuggish Moe hardly registered the bite, but this impudent little tramp interrupting him was all that was needed to set off his explosive temper. Still grasping Teresa, with a roar of rage, he backhanded Martin, sending him slamming head-first into the far wall of the dungeon. There was a sickening thud and the boy lay prone on the dungeon floor, a small trickle of blood visible under his hair.
"Martin, no!" screamed Teresa, fearing the worst, "You've killed him...!" But Martin wasn't dead yet, as his eyes fluttered open, unfocused from a mild concussion, but otherwise still breathing and conscious.
"I told you to shut up, you little tramp!" Moe yelled, "But no matter, I'm saving your turn for last – so that you can watch the rest of your siblings die one by one! After I'm finished with your big sister, your baby sister's next, and finally your sickly runt of a brother!" Martin, nursing the nasty bump on his head and seeing stars, felt his tears start to fall from his eyes. He hated so much this feeling of utter helplessness, totally powerless to protect his siblings...
Upstairs, Josh and his party burst into Castor's quarters. Laser in hand, Josh did a brief reconnaissance, making sure the room was secure. There was nobody here. The fragment of the Rosetta Stone was still on the desk. No sign of Castor, who seemed to have fled to save his own neck.
Hurrying over to the fresco Tristian had described on the wall, he tapped his knuckles on it and sure enough, realised the wall was hollow on the other side. Josh needn't bother searching for a secret switch or lever; aiming his weapon, he cut a wide round hole in the wooden panel. A chunk of the fresco fell away, revealing a secret passage on the other side. Motioning to his companions to wait here, he hurried through the hole, down some stairs, making his way to the dungeons.
Teresa struggled in vain as Moe dragged her like a rag-doll into another dungeon and slammed her down onto a cot. Before she had a chance to do anything, the brutal Rat had tied her wrists above her head to the cot, before doing the same with her ankles immobilising her. Holding her by the neck with one hand, with the other, he drew his dagger. Teresa, nearly chocking from the iron grip about her throat, shut her eyes in terror.
"No! No, please, I beg you, don't...!"
Moe lazily caressed her all over with the tip of his dagger, casually slipping it between the laces of her dress, preparing to strip her. His evil face was not unlike Dragon's when presented with easy prey; and Teresa was the prey, only not for food. Tears of fear and despair rolling down her cheeks, Teresa could only hope that death would come soon and spare her the terrible ordeal. The psychotic rapist and murderer grinned sadistically down at her with his yellow, rotting teeth. He was going to enjoy this so much...
Suddenly, before Moe could proceed, he was caught off-guard by a pair of strong hands which grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him to the floor. Looking up, he saw it was that miserable human again. Josh's face was a mask of pure fury and disgust.
"Keep your filthy hands off her, you bloody bastard!" he growled, "Touch her again and I'll kill you!" Moe, furious at being interrupted and determined to teach this interfering human a lesson, retrieved his dagger and got back to his feet, advancing like a snake about to strike.
"Stay out of this, human, or I'll rip you to pieces! You don't stand a chance against me!" Josh could have laughed at Moe's words, who obviously didn't realise, neither his bulging muscles or his cheese-slicer were any match against the laser in his hands. The man smirked.
"I eat scum like you for breakfast, mate," he said, "And right now, the frying pan's on the stove!"
Moe had barely taken a step closer, before the laser fired, hacking off his dagger arm at the shoulder. Yelling in agony, Moe slumped to the ground, clutching the bloody stump of his missing arm, which now lay severed at his feet, the dagger still clutched in his rigid fingers.
"You human beast! What have you done to me?!" Moe groaned, feeling about to pass out from blood loss. Josh merely glared at him, unmoved by his suffering, not after what he'd seen him try and do to Teresa.
"Only given you what you deserve, you bastard," he told Moe coldly, "That's for all the women and children you've raped and murdered! Don't you feel any remorse for their suffering?" Moe's sadistic, unrepentant glare returned; if he was going to die, he wasn't about to let this human have the satisfaction.
"I enjoyed it every single time, human..."
That was the wrong thing to say. Josh fired his laser again, slicing Moe clean in half. He stared down at the jailor's corpse, "What a shame; I might have spared your life if you'd lied." With Moe sliced and diced and out of the way, Josh hurried over to Teresa. Undoing her binds, he picked her up into his arms, holding her close to comfort her. Teresa was trembling violently, as Josh let her sob into his shoulder. Although luckily Moe hadn't managed to force himself on her, the experience had left her in a bad state of shock.
"Josh...Oh, Josh, thank you. Thank you..."
"It's all right, sweetheart. It's over now," he said, tenderly stroking her cheeks, which were bruised and battered from Moe slapping her. Teresa continued to cling to him as if for protection, refusing to let go. Meanwhile, time was running out.
"Teresa, listen to me," said Josh, "I know it's been a terrible ordeal for you, but I need you to pull yourself together now. We still have some way to go before we're off this mountain. I need you to be strong and thinking clearly. Can you do that?" Teresa, although still shaken but not willing to break down in front of Josh, finally managed to calm down enough. Josh smiled at her.
"That's my girl. Just keep taking deep breaths and you'll be fine. Now, where are the others?"
Teresa led Josh back to the dungeon where Martin, Cynthia and Timmy were. At the sight of Josh, the children were on their feet with joy and relief (all except for Timmy who was in a coma), realising they were going to be rescued!
"Josh, you've come to save us!" cheered Martin, as the astronaut cut the lock out of the dungeon door with his laser and entered. The children lovingly embraced him, "We thought you were going back to your own planet..."
"Well, I kind of...missed my ride," said Josh, not keen on explaining what he and his party had discovered at Thorn Valley just yet, "Oh, Jesus," he muttered, noticing the bloody ribbons from Moe's whip on Martin's back, as well as the bloody bump on his head, feeling his anger flaring up again. He should have left that bastard back there to slowly bleed to death, rather than finish him off nice and quick. Then he noticed Timmy.
"I... I don't think he's breathing," said Martin sadly. Beside him, Teresa and Cynthia began to cry; after all this, it seemed their youngest brother would never be getting out of here alive. But Josh, a trained first-aider, examining the boy's vitals, reassured them Timmy was incredibly still alive, just comatose, but in critical condition. Whatever treatment they'd given him back at the Lee of the Stone had been ruined, his pneumonia now in the final stages. This wasn't good.
Reaching into his pack, Josh took out the fresh supply of penicillin ampoules and prepared the syringe-gun. Doping up Timmy with a triple-dose of penicillin and another shot of emergency morphine to keep him comfortably sedated, he wrapped the boy up in a space-blanket, to keep him warm for the trek down the mountain. If he could just hold on for a few more hours, he might have a chance.
"All right, guys, it's time we got out of Dodge. Now, it's going to be dangerous getting out, so stick close to me at all times. Teresa, make sure you hold Cynthia's hand and don't let go; Martin, you're in charge of carrying Timmy. And when I give an order, you follow it immediately and without question. Understood?" The children all nodded, Martin included – for the first in his life, he'd obey orders exactly as instructed.
With the children following him, Josh led the way back upstairs to Castor's quarters, where Fievel, Bridget and Tony were waiting for them. Before turning to leave, Josh went to retrieve the fragment of the Stone from Castor's desk. Jonathan had given his life for this thing and Josh would see to it that it would reach the hands of Nicodemus where it belonged. This way, at least Jonathan's sacrifice wouldn't be for naught. He also pocketed the unexploded grenade Brutus had dropped, which the Exiles had retrieved, figuring it might come in handy. Beside him, Tony heaved a sack containing a bundle of parchments and scrolls he'd policed up from Castor's office on Josh's request over his shoulder – potential information on the Exiles' plans, their secret allies and informants, and the Stone itself, which they couldn't let fall into the wrong hands.
"All right, just one more stop and we're home-free. Let's go!"
Josh led his escape party over to another cavern, where the Exiles kept their arsenal of gunpowder, which they meant to use for their intended aerial strike against Rosebush City. Now, this old-fashioned weapon of man, which had changed the course of human warfare almost a millennium before Josh was even born, could now be used to destroy the Exiles' hideout. Josh nearly had to drag a mesmerised Tony away from an open vault of gold he'd discovered next door, one of the Exile's many treasuries – right now, they had more important things to do than waste time on stolen treasure.
Instructing Tony and Bridget to grab a keg of powder each, with Josh carrying a third one, they made their way past all the scattered bodies of dead Rats lying around and made their way back to the cave's entrance. The former prisoners breathed a sigh of relief at the lovely sight of the open sky that greeted them outside – at long last, they were free of their imprisonment!
On Josh's instructions, they planted the gunpowder in the tunnel, just beyond the cave entrance. The ensuing detonation would seal off the Exile's old hideout forever, along with all the memories of the horrors that had transpired here. Someone however didn't think that was such a good idea.
"Wait, what about all the treasure?" Tony argued with Josh. Despite being born poor, not to mention a servant, he'd always dreamt of asking for his beloved Bridget's hand in marriage from Countess Mausheimer, something impossible, given the strict social barriers of polite society. But if he came back with a fortune, now lying literarily at his fingertips, it would be a very different story, "Think about it! There's enough gold down there to make us all filthy rich! We can't let it go to waste...!"
"That gold's blood money, young Mr Toponi," said Josh sternly, "We leave it lying around, someone else might use it to finance his own dirty work. Trust me, we're far better off without it. Now, shut up, and give me a hand here!"
Apart from destroying the Exiles, Josh had a legitimate reason to ensure nobody could use their hideout or its resources again, including the gold and gunpowder they'd left behind. There was too much corruption in this world and anyone could pick up where the Exiles had left off, if he left the fruits of their dirty labour lying around. No, despite Tony Toponi's objections, this foul place was going ka-booey.
"All right, everybody stand back!"
Taking out the grenade, Josh twisted the arming cap and chucked it down the tunnel entrance, where the gunpowder was planted. They all ducked for cover behind the rocks, as the seconds ticked off on Josh's watch.
BOOM!
The ensuing blast set off the kegs of gunpowder, triggering a catastrophic cave-in. Within seconds, where the entrance to the bandits' lair had been, now there was nothing but a landslide of fallen boulders. The hideout had been sealed off for good and all of its treasures buried with it. Tony looked away in disappointment. For a few brief moments he'd had dreams of getting off this mountain a rich mouse – now, he was going back as a simple garden-boy. Bridget put her arms around him.
"Never mind, Tony," she told him, kissing his cheek, "I still love you, even if you're the lowliest pauper in the world." Toni smiled gratefully, feeling touched, albeit only slightly because, although Bridget's heart was true, unfortunately it still came down to Countess Mausheimer's consent for them to be together, which he'd never get now.
With Josh in the lead, they made their way down the mountain. It wasn't easy; the path was narrow and treacherous all the way and Josh's suit lights offered little help for navigating the terrain in the dark. Even downhill, the cold and the thinness of the air were quickly getting to them. Then they came to a dead end on the edge of the cliff, where the sky-bridge had been. Someone had cut the ropes keeping the bridge anchored to the cliff on the other side, which now hung uselessly over the edge. There was no way down.
"Now what do we do?" asked Teresa, staring helplessly at the misty abyss below, "We'll never get off this mountain!" Beside her, Fievel placed a comforting arm around her. Teresa smiled gratefully at the friendly gesture, causing Fievel to blush with embarrassment. But Josh, who had expected this, calmly unpacked the yellow metal box he'd cannibalised from the unmanned probe, containing the parachute. With the bridge out, they'd have to parachute down the mountain – and unfortunately the majority of Josh's companions were all but keen on such a plan.
"You mean we jump over the edge, holding onto this...this piece of cloth?" yelled Tony, clearly thinking Josh had flipped his marbles, "Are you crazy?!" Beside him, Bridget shuddered at the thought; like Elizabeth, she was scared stiff of heights. Then, someone came to Josh's defence: Martin.
"We've seen Josh built a working flying-ship," he told them, "If he says this thing will work, it'll work." Josh gratefully ruffled the boy's hair. With the others agreeing to his plan, albeit half-heartedly, he unpacked the folded parachute and attached its cords to his suit harness. Then, he instructed his reluctant companions to hold onto him tightly, preparing to jump. Josh took Timmy, who was too weak to hold on by himself, while Bridget and Tony each took the rest of the children.
"All right, on the count of three – one, two, three, go!"
Taking a run, the group of eight went flying right over the edge of the ledge, going into a freefall down the side of the mountain. The mice screamed in terror, thinking they were all going to die; then the parachute opened up like a gigantic umbrella, slowing their fall. The mice were absolutely gobsmacked, clinging onto the parachute cords for dear life, as they flew down the mountain like birds – something which, until a minute ago, couldn't exist beyond their imagination.
Pretty soon, the parachute and its shaky passengers came to rest at the foot of the mountain, close to the canyon river, less than a hundred yards from the pod's landing site. Their ride home stood there waiting, undisturbed, the glider alongside. Untangling themselves from the parachute, Josh led the way over to the waiting Scout and the Jeremy. The mice all stared in awe at the spacecraft, the likes of which they had never seen before. Their human friend was definitely full of surprises!
Then came time for the tricky part of the operation. The pod was only designed to carry one pilot, and no passengers; the glider could take up to six passengers, but none of the mice had the faintest idea about flying it. That left them with no alternative but to rig the glider so that it could be towed by the pod for the flight back to Rosebush City. For this, Josh had made sure to bring along a length of sturdy rope for a tether, which they secured to the glider's nose, while the other end was tied to the O-ring inside the empty panel where the pod's drogue chute was originally fitted (that, of course, had been removed and used to build the glider). Although neither the pod, nor the glider had been tested for such a flight, Josh was fairly confident they could pull this off.
The adults helped the children onto the glider, making sure they were firmly strapped down. Josh then helped Tony and Bridget on as well. Timmy, who was in no condition to fly on an open-air glider, much less in the freezing temperatures of high altitude, would instead hitch a ride on Josh's lap onboard the pod. They were just about ready to depart, when trouble finally struck.
"Josh, behind you!"
Josh had no time to defend himself, before a Rat's hand clutching a dagger came swinging out of nowhere, stabbing him in the abdomen. White-hot pain burst from his lower torso as the dagger penetrated clean through his spacesuit and overalls, burrowing deep into his flesh. The next thing Josh felt was his attacker forcibly snatch away the laser he'd been carrying. The children and Bridget screamed.
Crumpling to the ground bleeding out, the dagger still protruding from the wound, Josh saw it was Castor, who had fled the cave before they'd sealed it off and had been waiting down here to ambush them. The maniac Exile leader held them all at gunpoint, the laser aiming on each of them in turn, as if considering whom to kill first. An insane gleam shone in his evil eyes.
"You scum human murdered all of my boys," he snarled at Josh, "But now I'm taking my revenge – revenge against you, against Nicodemus, and any other fool who will dare stand in my way!" Tony was about to spring at Castor and bash his face in, but froze as Castor trained the weapon threateningly on him. Brutus' ironically correct foresight of what might happen if any of his dangerous weapons ended up in the wrong hands crossed Josh's mind – now, thanks to him letting his guard down, they would all be killed without mercy, after which Castor would have the power to unleash a wave of terror and death against Nicodemus and his people. How he wished he'd taken that warning a bit more seriously.
The laser charged and armed, Castor took aim, preparing to fire, "Well, human, I'm giving you a choice: do you want the children to be first, or would you rather they watch you die first instead?" It was definitely all over for them, Josh thought, bracing for the agony of being hacked to pieces by that laser, cursing his stupidity for letting this happen in the first place. But some divine power was still watching over them.
Castor was only a second away from pulling the trigger, gloating about how he would enjoy killing them and many others too, when a familiar gigantic form suddenly looked out of the mist. A massive furry paw came slamming down on the unsuspecting Castor, before the villainous bandit was devoured alive, laser and all. Dragon, who had somehow escaped the collapsing cave, had made his way down the mountain in the nick of time. Ironically, Castor, who'd spent a lifetime feeding his gorgeous pet any prisoners who were of no further use to him, including Jonathan, had now ended up food himself.
Dragon momentarily turned to stare at them, perhaps considering whether to go for another rodent snack, but then turned around and disappeared into the mist, his stomach full. Bridget collapsed in a dead faint. Although relieved at their lucky break, Josh could only think in dismay about the probe's URTG now lost in Dragon's stomach, along with Castor; without it, his last ride home was grounded for good. His last chance of ever returning to Earth was history...not that it really mattered because, right now, it seemed he might be needing a grave instead.
They all crowded around Josh, who lay bleeding and panting on the ground. The children were sobbing at the sight of the dagger handle protruding from the wound. Would their friend be all right? With Tony bracing him, Bridget grasped the dagger firmly with both hands and pulled hard. The dagger came out, its blade crimson with dripping blood, causing Josh to yell in agony. Undoing his spacesuit down to his waist, they saw his overalls were soaked with blood flowing freely from a gaping wound. Using his HHC, Josh saw the blade had gone deep inside, stopping by his pelvis. Although luckily not a fatal wound, it was still pretty bad.
At least he didn't get my stomach or liver, or else I'd be a goner...
"Oh, Josh, look what he did to you!" cried Teresa, as she and Bridget tore strips from their dresses for makeshift bandages, which they slapped over the wound with some duct-tape from Josh's kit. This stopped the bleeding somewhat and they helped him back on his feet. But Josh knew from experience that a deep wound like this needed stitches and he had no surgical stapler; and with him now injured, they had to get moving fast, while he was still well enough to fly the pod. Without a pilot, they'd be stranded up in this godforsaken mountain for good...assuming, of course, he didn't succumb in mid-flight, in which case they'd crash and die. It was a dangerous gamble, but they had no choice.
Tony and Bridget helped him climb into the Scout and strapped him in; Teresa and Martin then passed him the comatose Timmy, still wrapped in his space blanket. The boy remained non-responsive, seemingly dead, yet Josh could feel his tiny fingers squeeze his hand, indicating he was still alive. But for how much longer? Minutes? Seconds? Feeling his own strength slowly ebbing away, he gave his companions the okay sign, sealed the hatch and prepared for take-off.
Through his aft-view camera, he saw his companions were all securely strapped down onto the glider and ready. Starting up the pod's engines, Josh put the spacecraft in a hovering mode, causing it to rise just a few feet off the ground, by means of its vertical blast-tubes; then, he punched in the main ignition sequence, making sure to do it on as low thrust as possible; if those atomic jets fired on full, the blast wave would incinerate the glider and all its passengers trailing in his baffles like a flamethrower.
The pod hovered forward like some awkward helicopter, slowly picking up speed; Josh watched as the tether stretched tight and the glider began to slide forward along the side of the cliff, also gathering speed, until it finally left the ground and was airborne too. Carefully watching his instruments, retaining an optimum forward speed for the glider, Josh set course for Rosebush City.
Only able to fly at a maximum cruising speed of a sluggish 80 miles an hour, beyond which the fragile glider he was towing would disintegrate, the return flight seemed to take forever. Red warning lights buzzed on his console, indicating the thrusters were close to seizing up from their constant firing to keep the pod from falling out of the sky like a stone. Soon, temperature gauges were in the red, but the engines held.
Suddenly, the lights of Rosebush City loomed into view ahead. What a sweet sight to behold! But he might not live long enough to rejoice, thought Josh, because with safety only about ten minutes away, things finally started going downhill again. Glancing down at his stab wound, Josh noticed the bleeding had turned into a severe haemorrhage, which would soon cause him to go into shock. He could feel the warm wet trickle which was his own blood flooding the left pant-leg of his spacesuit, feel the rapidly worsening light-headedness that threatened to make him pass out. Desperately, he looked out at the city but they were still too far out to make it there before he lost control. Only one thing for it then.
With the last of his strength going fast, he hurryingly turned to the landing procedures. A stretch of desert on the edge of the City looked favourable enough for a runway landing. Fighting the black spots of imminent unconsciousness obscuring his vision, he manoeuvred the pod downwards, preparing for touchdown. His hands felt sluggish on the controls, his reflexes poor. His life and those of his companions seemed to hang in the balance; one mistake and the pod would smash up on touchdown, taking the unpiloted glider with it.
All right, he had a green light for the undercarriage; what was the next part of the procedure? Reverse thrusters? No, not until he was on the ground...What the hell was it? Oh, yes, trim lock...! Struggling to stay conscious, he clumsily levelled out the pod for landing. He felt the wheels slam down hard, the pod overshooting and ploughing into the desert floor. Frantically, he hit the reverse thrusters, holding Timmy protectively against him as he did, bracing for a crash...but then the pod slowed down until she came to a dead stop, still in one piece. Through the aft view camera, he saw the glider also come to a gentle stop, likewise undamaged. Out of the Dark Mountains came seven mice and a human.
Blowing the hatch, he saw several figures with flaming torches approaching from the City, alerted by the noise of his incoming pod. Help was on the way! Then, he caught sight of his pale, battered face reflected in the windshield, white as the corpse he might soon become. Then, the blood loss became too overwhelming and he blacked out...
Author's note: The rescue is complete! Coming up next, the aftermath. We're entering a whole new part in Josh's story from here on! Please remember to leave a comment – I need all the feedback I can get to continue with this work!