by Pam Uphoff
“Not stationed here. But Intel wants me and Ra’d to help them with a little project . . .”
Arno started grinning. “Am I about to get into trouble?”
“Only if we get caught.” Ebsa grinned back. “You see . . . this sewer and storm drain system has pipes running into every single embassy. Intel seems to think we could get a passive vibration pickup, up into the Earth Embassy . . .”
Arno started snickering. “And listen to the Ambassador singing in the shower? And that’s the nicest thing you’d be hearing.”
A snicker from behind him. Ra’d, the second scariest man in the Multiverse, and . . . Nighthawk?
She grinned at him. “Don’t look so surprised, little brother. I’m almost married to Ra’d, and anything they do to the Earthers is fine with me. And no, I am not acting as a Disco Agent. This is off duty fun and games.”
“So . . . Why do you want me?”
“It’s those little pipes into the embassy.” Nighthawk looked embarrassed. “I got stuck.”
Arno swallowed. “I am a bit skinnier. But . . . climb up the sewer pipes!”
“That’s why we’re going to do it at two in the morning.” Ebsa grinned. “You game?”
“Of course.”
The tunnels were more than a little spooky at midnight-thirty.
Especially since they were starting from the river end.
“Dad is way too sensitive to corridor formation and teleporting to use either.” Nighthawk steered him over to a small open vehicle. Lots of batteries. Quiet. Easy to conceal.
Nighthawk nodded. “Exactly. Hop up there.”
Arno frowned at the odd holders. Blinked as it clicked. “It’s a golf cart!”
“Yep.” Ebsa came up behind him, a stranger in tow. “This is Azko. Our technical expert.”
The young man grinned. “And for once I’m not the junior man on the team.” He stepped up behind the driver’s seat, Ebsa took the controls, Nighthawk sat beside him, and Ra’d hung on the side beside her. Arno gulped and stepped up to play golf bag, and they were off, around the back of the tall buildings and around to a back gate.
Ra’d jumped off to open it, and closed it behind them. They were behind the hospital, and drove quietly north until they were well clear of it, then turned down a side street to the northwest diagonal road. And rather to his shock, instead of hiding the vehicle and walking in, Ebsa turned to drive over rough ground, downhill, and around to the tunnel entrance. And drove straight in.
The tunnel floor was almost flat, a slight slope from either side to the middle, where a bare trickle of water shone in the headlights.
At golf cart speeds, it seemed like forever to get to the right outlet, on the west side of the tall office building. They all climbed out, and the cart faded away behind an illusion.
“Now, Arno, let me explain.” Ebsa held out his hand and an illusion sprang up . . . the schematics of the building that was almost overhead. “Way up here on the thirtieth floor, there’s an executive bathroom between the ambassador’s office and his main briefing room.
“We need to run these two light cables up the main pipe, around these corners, and then up the ventilation pipe here. Then through the pipe wall and just barely through the walls—one looking at the office, the other looking into the briefing room. Don’t worry, we just need you to pull the cables though this nice big pipe and thread them up the first pipe here.”
Nighthawk held her hand out. “Can you stick things on walls? Excellent. See the arrow, put it inside the vertical pipe, arrow pointing up. That creates a temporary one way pipe spell, which will make getting this much cable that far, much much easier.”
“Once they’re in place, we’ll meld it all into the wall. You back up to where you can just barely reach the one way charm and remove it.”
“And then everything that wasn’t able to drop . . . will?”
Ra’d grinned. “We’ll put a rope around one of your feet and pull you out fast.”
“Oh man! Let’s do this fast, all right?” He took the charm and a light on a headband.
“Right.” Ebsa pulled two thin cords out of nowhere . . . or rather the two spools that were suddenly not hidden inside an illusion. The ends were joined by an odd contraption. “That’s how we’ll steer it into the right place.” He looped it over Arno’s shoulder, and they really did tie a rope around his ankle.
“We’ll measure out the distance, and give it two tugs when you’re the right distance in.”
“No telepathy?”
“I didn’t think you’d . . . well.” :: Congratulations. That’ll be a lot easier than rope tugs and shouting. Now get going. ::
Arno grinned. I don’t believe I’m doing this! The pipe wasn’t comfy, and it was an elbow crawl, which took forever. Well it felt like it.
:: You’re almost there. ::
Arno cranked his head around to look up. :: Yeah, I see where the metal pipe sort of smears out into the rock. ::
He had a bit of trouble getting the charm out of his pocket in the cramped pipe, but he stuck it on, and felt the upward pull. Shrugged the steering thing off his shoulder and fed it in, made sure the cables were feeding in properly . . . and eased back, just in case “something” did make it down the pipe.
Thirty floors. How tall was a floor? Three meters or so? Not really that far at all, just . . . straight up. And no idea how fast the cables were being drawn up the pipe . . . except they were slowing.
:: Made the first corner, now the next, and then divert into the ventilation pipe . . . :: Ebsa sounded absent minded, and Arno wondered if they were steering by magic, or just monitoring the cable’s progress. :: All right, that’s all the cable we could possibly need. ::
Arno got the impression of pushing and pulling . . . something about sealing the pipe . . . gleeful triumph . . . The top of the pipe he was staring at sported a little square device.
Security? Or someone else trying to collect information? I don’t see any cables. In fact, ours seem to be oozing into the rock . . . I heard the purification spell wouldn’t harm electronics . . . but perhaps optical cables don’t register as electronic, which does make sense. Plus, of course, getting them out of sight.
And that’s why they needed someone in here. Because the spells turn off when a human is in the pipe. Well, and they needed to get the charm for a one way spell into the vertical, so they didn’t have to try to lift the cable from that far away.
:: OK Arno. :: Ra’d strong voice. :: When you remove the charm, the pieces of the steering mech will fall all the way down. Get out of the way. Then grab them, if you can. Remove the charm as soon as you are ready. ::
Arno edged further back and stretched to reach the charm. :: Right. Pulling the charm off. ::
He jerked it loose. Snatched his arm back . . . even as he felt the consternation of the others.
:: Someone’s coming. We’ll be right back :: Ebsa, sounding worried.
:: Turn off your light! :: Ra’d sharper thought.
Oh . . . crap.
An unfortunate thought, as water splatted down the pipe. Arno, who was lying on his back, squirmed over and tried to get up on his elbows and knees. Because . . . it didn’t smell like just water.
He reached up and turned off his light.
He thought about his mental mirror, and cleared up the outside one completely. And immediately felt the dim impact of the thoughts of the non-magical, coming from the west.
That’s the way we came in. I can’t feel Ebsa and friends . . . but I’ll bet that’s just their shields.
He concentrated on the newcomer’s thoughts. Worry and disgust at climbing around in the sewers. And a bit of consternation. A whispered conversation . . . what little echoed up his pipe was confused. But perhaps there were words like, small, and possible. Also, disgusting.
Arno could only agree. Then listen to the silence, as they retreated back to the west.
Then Ebsa was back. :: OK. They’re far enough away now. Look for the
pieces of the steering pod. There should be four. ::
Arno clicked on the light, found three pieces, and started easing backwards.
I need to get out of here and let the purification spells get to work.
The rope on his ankle tightened. :: Want us to pull you out? ::
:: Through this ! No thank you. ::
He backed through the pipe as fast as possible, slid out feet first and stepped on something . . . “Oh, here’s the fourth piece. And the rest.”
“Excellent.” Ra’d held out a bag and he dropped them all in. The empty spools were on the back of the cart already. The rope went in the bag.
They all crowded back aboard the golf cart . . . and drove off in the pitch dark.
Arno looked at the techie. “Azko, there was something stuck to the top of the pipe.”
“Really? Picture it.” Azko closed his eyes, and started grinning. “It’s a signal booster. I’ll bet someone’s got a bunch of very low power bugs in place. That little gizmo is close enough to pick up their signal, and boost it. All very directional, of course, otherwise they’d be discovered. Show me it again. How was it oriented, relative to the pipe? Hmm. South southwest. That could be the British Empire, Earth Bogota Nuke, Earth 1960 . . . Discordia’s that direction too, but would they have the equipment? Nuke One is still in trailers and tents. Doubt there’s much high tech espionage going on yet.”
Arno could feel the man’s glee.
“Yeah. I love puzzles. And Intel’s full of them.” He cleared his throat. “And we certainly didn’t pick up any intel that led us to believe Earth was going to install camera monitors in those tunnels tomorrow.”
Ra’d snuck Arno into Building Three, the offices and apartments for the Directorate people assigned there, and into his bathroom. Arno scrubbed thoroughly. Twice. And received clean clothes, still warm from the fabricator.
The black T shirt had golden writing on it. Junior Intel Agent. Arno grinned. “And my job, should I choose to accept it, is to never let anyone see it.”
“Exactly. So, let’s get you back to your room, so you can nab an hour of sleep before it’s time to rise and run.”
Arno groaned.
***
Memorizing "charms" was easy enough. Activating them by pushing a tiny bit of power into them . . . was a learning experience. One that Arno excelled at, to his sister’s irritation. At least her rude grumblings were helping him stay awake.
They only started a couple of tiny fires in the classroom half of the main room. Master Xen didn’t seem the least bit alarmed, and simply snuffed them as they happened.
“Now, let’s look at a common dimensional phenomena.”
“Arno, your control is going to pay off with this.” Xen reached out and grabbed one of those insubstantial bubbles. A small one.
“They haven’t actually got size. They don’t . . . sort of exist in this world. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say they don’t interact with this world unless we make them. You just visualize them any size that’s handy for your needs. Once you’ve poked a hole in one without popping it, they sort of toughen up, and it’s easier to attach them, stretch them or poke another hole in them.”
Arno eyed another bubble floating by . . . reached out . . . it bounced off his fingertips.
“Excellent. Picture it smaller and get a hand on either side.”
Arno tried to visualize it as a soap bubble, shrinking . . . and it did. At football sized, he put his hands on either side, fingers spread wide.
“You’re not getting away from me this time!” It popped. “Oops.”
Master Xen just grinned. “Try again.”
The other kids started chasing bubbles all over the room. Arno sat quietly in a corner and caught one. Held it carefully and poked a finger into it. Widened the hole.
Master Xen nodded his approval. “Imagine pushing it up against the wall. And make the edge of your hole stick there. Perfect. Now stretch the hole out and pin down the corners.”
Silence in the rest of the room, as the others closed in to watch. He pulled the opening wide and stuck another bit of the edge on the wall two feet away. Grabbed another spot and stuck it on low down . . . making a triangle of metallic bronze. Rubbery . . . he could shove his arm all the way in, but as soon as he relaxed, he was shoved back. Rubbery indeed. Elastic. Or maybe surface tension, like water.
He grabbed another spot and stretched that out for a larger, irregular bronze patch.
By the time he was done, the poor bubble was spread and pinned in a dozen places, a bronzy torture victim sprawled against the wall.
He staggered back and Master Xen steered him to a chair and handed him a bottle of boost.
Set a box of donuts on the table, and sat down himself to watch the others—kids and chaperones—poke at his bubble.
“If I put it on the floor, could it be a trampoline?”
“Not quite stiff enough. They do make comfy beds, but they’re hard to get out of. Low friction.”
“Oh.” Arno tied to picture wallowing around in a bed he couldn’t get any traction on . . . I could give myself nightmares. “What happens if the bubble pops when someone, like Yrno there has managed to shove half his body inside?”
“He gets shoved out back into 3D space at the interface. So long as nothing’s in the way, he‘d just get tossed back a bit. If there’s not enough room, he’d get squished into whatever room there was.” Master Xen grinned at the kids who’d turned to listen to him. “So there are circumstances where the bubbles are dangerous.”
Diuc stomped up and glared at him.
“Like I said when we first met. I’ll make you guys a lot more dangerous than you were. And I trust you to be careful with these mental weapons I’m handing you.”
He flashed a grin around the room. “Half the teenagers on Embassy are outside, trying to listen in. Why don’t you take a break, grab lunch, map the maze, whatever you want.” He tapped a spot on his shoulder, and the big brown dog jumped out of nowhere. “If you go in the Maze, take Pig with you. He’ll take care of any predators you encounter.”
Arno looked at the dog. Moderately large, but hardly giant. I don’t think he could fight a bear. The dog grinned back.
Right. Let’s head for the Maze, and avoid all these irritating adults.
Chapter Twenty-six
The Monsters in the Maze
It wasn’t all the local teenagers, just the five Purps and the four Discordians.
“Our parents let us skip school because they think we might have dimensional abilities. ‘Pay attention to what Wolfson’s teaching those . . . kids of his,’ is all we heard all day.” Chris Puma, the youngest of the Purps, grinned and led the way toward the Maze. “C’mon. What the parents don’t know won’t hurt them.”
Ha! I caught that pause. Did they call us bastards, monsters or both?
Mahmud, the oldest of the Discordians was spiking excitement all around his aura. “That was cool, the bronze thing. Can you teach us how you did it?”
Arno shrugged. “Can you see things like that?” He pointed at a bubble.
Most of them looked past it. Marion Aquila squinted. “It’s almost like a bubble.”
Ryol grinned. “You should take lessons with us. That’s the sort of thing they use for bags and corridors. Gates are harder, and use something else. Something they call a cone.”
Joel scowled at Marion. “Your Mom’s just a power, not a Purp. You shouldn’t be able to . . . to . . .”
“Do something you can’t? A mere female showing you up?” Marion tossed her head and skipped up to walk with Ryol.
Yrno eyed Joel. “Do you lot keep women all locked up like they do?” He nodded at the Discordians.
The Discordians glared at him. “Once a woman is married, of course, she retires to the inner courtyard. And only goes out in public with her husband or a grown son.” Rashad sniffed. “They aren’t locked up. They’re modest and loyal. The opposite of those Witch Whores, with their bastard
children.”
Arno blinked at him. “You know, I wouldn’t recommend saying that to a Witch’s face. I‘ve heard they’ve got some great physical transformation spells.”
“Ha! Like I believe that?” Rashad glanced over his shoulder. “Oh great the Intel Officer and his pet agent have found us.”
Arno glanced back and spotted the two men watching them. One redhead, one blond. “Are they with Disco?”
“Nah. They’re with our embassy. Spies. They always want us to talk about everything you guys say about what Captain Wolfson’s teaching you.”
Erek snorted. “As if I’d tell them anything.”
Mahmud frowned at him. “Careful. You Sea Wolves still have to prove yourselves.”
Erek’s twin brother Max jerked his thumb back at the spies. “They’re Sea Wolves. Our mum’s Discordian.”
“Your Mum’s harem trash, her mother was kicked out as an adulterer when our uncle took over as Amma. I’m surprised even a Sea Wolf would marry her.”
The twins rounded on him, and the two purple boys jumped in and shoved them apart.
Joel looked at Mahmud in disgust. “Must you start this every stinkin’ time? Let’s get moving. Maybe we can lose your spies in the Maze.”
Arno contemplated what he’d do if someone called his Mother . . . Of course, that’s going to happen when the news finally leaks. Unless Aunt Rael jumps in and claims us. And she’d just laugh at being called a whore. And they’ll call Ryol and me bastards . . . well, we get a low level of that with old rumors.
And we finally found out the truth about all that, didn’t we?
No, our problems will involve being called “half-native” “Not really Oners at all” “genetically engineered monsters” and things like that. I wonder if I could carry off Ebsa’s cool “That’s Upcomer Closey Bastard, sheesh, get the insult right” response to insults?
I’ll have to practice. “That’s Wolfson’s Withione Bastard Monster. Sheesh. Get it right, will’ya?”
He turned and walked past the end of the pavement and up the dirt track. “We’ve mapped out to the Lake Camp. Shall we start there and see what comes next?”