Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

archly, "I always said the Wolfes were a pain in the ass."
    Jack Random, Ruby Journey, and Alexander Storm followed their guides down through a maze of tunnels, away from the open trenches and the fury of the rising blizzard. The tunnels sloped sharply downward, their walls revealing the many layers of compacted trash and metal that made up the history of the planet's surface. The air was warmer underground, but the three newcomers were still shivering. Light came from metal lanterns hanging from the low ceiling, a pale yellow glow that was hard on their unaccustomed eyes. People bustled around them as they descended deeper, always in too much of a hurry to do more than stare or very occasionally nod a greeting. They were all heavily muscled, with little covering fat to blur the hard edges. Their eyes were stern and concentrated on the matter in hand, and none of them smiled or uttered an unnecessary word. Tall John and Throat-slitter Mary led the way down in silence, the stiffness of their backs rejecting the possibility of questions. Random and Ruby and Storm stuck close together, as much for shared warmth as mutual support.
    "How the hell did they build all these tunnels and trenches in the first place?"
    said Ruby, scowling at the metal walls. "I can't see whoever the opposition was
    at the time agreeing to a truce while the rebels brought in digging equipment."
    "They probably used captured energy weapons to blast out the original tunnels and then widened them over the years by hand," said Random. "We're looking at the end result of decades of hard work. Maybe longer."
    "Damn right," said Tall John without looking back at them. "The original work happened so long ago that no one now even remembers the names of those involved.
    We've been building our tunnels for centuries, each generation adding what was needed at the time. We have to live underground. It's all that's left to us. In the old days, there were the military satellites, with their tracking systems and weaponry. These days, there's the weather. And besides, the factory complex has its own force Screen. We've always known the only way past the Screen was under it. The Wolfes know it, too. That's why they have their own people digging tunnels, too."
    "But you're safe down here, aren't you?" said Storm.
    "There's safe, and then there's safe," said Throat-slitter Mary. "Technos III's other life-forms live underground, too. They live in the deep down, where we rarely go, but they come up from time to time, and then we get to argue as to whose territory these tunnels are. We hunt them for food, and they hunt us for food. We win, more often than not. And it helps weed out the weak. See those old stains on the floor? When we make a kill, we splash the beast's blood around, to mark the territory. It keeps the bastards at bay for a while."
    "You mean they get up this far?" said Ruby.
    "Oh, sure," said Tall John. "In the spring, sometimes there's hardly room to move in here for fangs and claws and nasty dispositions."
    "Good," said Ruby. "I could use some exercise."
    "Well, that explains the bloodstains," said Storm quickly. "But what about the
    leg?"
    Tall John and Throat-slitter Mary stopped and looked back at him. "What leg?"
    said Tall John.
    Storm pointed silently, and they all looked up at the human leg, complete with trousers and boot, protruding from where the right-hand wall met the ceiling.
    Tall John scowled. "Mason Elliot! This is your area! Where are you?"
    A short stocky man bundled in furs up to his chin stepped out of a side tunnel, an ugly black cigar in one comer of his mouth. "No need to shout, I'm not deaf.
    All right, gracious leader. I'm here. What is it this time? Lost your keys again?"
    "What is that leg doing there?"
    "Holding up the ceiling. We had to rebuild part of the wall after the last bloodworm attack, and we were a bit pushed for time. We were short of materials, the body was handy… and no one liked him much anyway. Give it a few weeks and the bloodworms will break through again. We can always remove the body then."
    "By which time it'll be stinking to high heaven," said Tall John. "I want that leg brought down now. Get an ax and hack it off. Move it!"
    "Certainly, gracious leader of us all." The short man squeezed the end of his cigar out with his fingers and put it hehind his ear. He stood glaring up at the protruding leg as Tall John led his party past. Random brought up the rear and was perhaps the only one to hear the