Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

lived in shifts so that progress was never slowed and they might never be caught napping. The Rejects had many enemies, from the world above to the wild creatures far below, and they had learned to be constantly prepared. Jack Random, Ruby Journey, and Alexander Storm were being taken on yet another tour by Specter Alice, to impress upon them the need for outside support.
    "We can feed and clothe ourselves, and we raid the upper world for whatever else we need, but there are always shortages," said Specter Alice. "Ours is not a life of comforts. We are born into the struggle, give our lives to it, and die for it in the end. Few of us live to old age. Unless they're crazy, like me. We are fighters, first and foremost. Even in our deepest, most protected places, there is little time for leisure. The tunnels must be maintained, food hunted and preserved, our territory protected. We have schools. We tap into the factory computers. We're not barbarians. But the struggle must always come first. We take it in turn to man the trenches and endure the changing weathers of the
    world above. You say you need our help to stop the factory's work. Then send us fighters and energy weapons. We'll do the rest."
    She broke off as Ruby Journey stopped abruptly. Everyone else stopped and looked back at her. The bounty hunter had made little attempt to hide her boredom, only there because Random had insisted, but now the sour blankness had left her face.
    She looked straight ahead, her dark eyes far away, seeming huge in her pale, pointed face.
    "Someone's coming," she said softly. "A large force from above."
    Storm looked quickly about him. "I can't hear anything."
    "I can feel it," said Ruby. "Jack?"
    "Yes. I feel it, too. One hell of a large force, headed this way. They've already broken through into the upper tunnels. Alice, sound the alarms. I have a strong feeling we are in a world of trouble. Ruby, lead the way."
    She was off and running, sword in hand, almost before he'd finished speaking.
    Jack charged after her, leaving Storm to hurry along in his wake as best he could. Soon men and women of the Rejects were joining them from side tunnels, running effortlessly beside them with all kinds of weapons in their hands. They had no time or breath for idle chatter. It was enough that the tunnels were under attack. They knew what to do. They'd trained for it all their lives. They ran silently, the only sound the growing thunder of the pounding of their feet on the steel floors. The thunder rose as more and more joined the charge, heading relentlessly toward the upper tunnels. Until finally they came upon their enemy, the Faithful, cutting a bloody path through the outnumbered defenders. The Rejects howled their fury and threw themselves upon the Church troops. Steel clashed and blood spilled, and soon the tunnels were packed with
    struggling fighters.
    The Faithful pressed steadily forward, screaming their chants and war cries, their eyes wide and fierce in their taut faces. The battle drug burned in their veins and fired their minds. They were more than human now, unbeatable emissaries of God, performing a holy duty. Victory was inevitable. They slammed into the rebels, swinging swords and axes, their drug-fueled strength beating aside the weapons of their enemies. There was neither room nor time for individual duels. Both sides fought where they could in the milling mass that seethed this way and that, spreading slowly out through the great maze of tunnels and caverns. Blades rose and fell, and men and women fell and were trampled underfoot. Some rebels tried to flee with the youngest children, but the Faithful seemed to be everywhere, blocking the exits with drawn swords. And the drug that burned within them showed no mercy to woman or child. There was running and fighting in the corridors, war cries and screams, and blood splashed the metal walls and floors. The air in the underground grew hot and oppressive and thick with the smells of sweat and blood and the stink of ruptured bodies.
    Random and Ruby fought back-to-back, surrounded by eager enemies like so many snapping dogs. Storm had been carried away in the press of fighting, and Random couldn't spare the time to worry about his fate. His enemies pressed forward from every side, searching for a moment's hesitation or weakness so that they could drag him down. He swung his sword as best he could in the confined space, putting all his strength behind short savage arcs and sudden