Storm Breakers by James Axler

Author:James Axler
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

By the blue-white light of a spotlight powered by a growling portable generator, J.B. squinted down into the tray of parts on the folding table and frowned. We’ve got a problem here, he thought.

“Trader,” he said. “You need to come look at this.”

Part of him, not too deep down, either, felt a thrill to be talking to the great man that way. Then again, that was implicit in the thrill of being put in a position, too.

Trader stood at one end of the table talking to the representative of the Science Brothers, who through some perverseness that bothered J.B.’s sense of rightness, was a woman. Her two companions, like the other Science Brothers who could properly be called Brothers, had shaved their heads egg-bald and wore round wire-rimmed specs whether they needed them or not.

The woman had hair. And not just hair—hair piled up on her head in a sort of swirl with what was probably a dyed-in white streak running up from the left side of her forehead. She also had outrageously made-up eyes and dark lipstick that might have been black. Or it may’ve been green, as the odd highlight struck off her hair suggested her’s was.

She scowled dangerously at his interruption, but Trader came right over.

J.B. was doing the very job Trader had brought him along for, which was why he was so swelled-up with pride it felt as if his chest and gut would just burst.

His skills and his resourcefulness at employing them—whether in improvising repairs and replacement parts out of damn near nothing or his diabolical booby traps—had won the respect of most of Trader’s hard-bitten, cynical crew. And even the cautiously qualified approval from The Man himself.

He was doing. That was the key thing. He always felt good when he did things—made things, fixed things.

Even better—he was learning. Though a stern taskmistress, Rance Weeden was an excellent teacher, always willing to show J.B. where he’d gone wrong—and give him just enough information to figure out the right way to do something on his own.

And Ace DeGuello also proved a master worthy of following. After actually working under the man on the long and winding run across the Deathlands, J.B. had abandoned thoughts of supplanting Trader’s weapons master. At least, anytime soon. More patient than Rance, Ace showed a breadth and depth of knowledge of metalworking and just plain weapons that made J.B.’s breath run short just to think about. And he treated J.B. as a sort of prize pupil.

To cap it off, tonight Ace had suggested J.B. go in his place to meet with the Science Brothers and evaluate their offerings as pertained to blasters and rocket launchers. Ace himself was tied up putting the last touches on Trader’s new pet 20 mm quick-firer, the recently installed hardpoint atop the prow of War Wag One.

And Trader had agreed without a pause. So here he was, glasses pushed in tight over his eyes and his heart in his throat, conscious that he held the literal future of Trader, his convoy and his people in his hands.

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