by P. S. Power
Tabby, the cat, rubbed against his leg then, distracting him. She meowed once, telling him about her day so far. There had been a wily insect that had died earlier, attempting to invade Turner’s office. She’d eaten it, even if it wasn’t all that filling.
Richard smiled at her, as he picked her up, petting her.
“Good work, then. It’s important to keep us safe from bugs and things like that.”
Turner looked at the gray cat and then nodded. Seriously, as if she really meant it.
“That’s right. All kinds of bugs. If you pick anything up, get with me on it, right away.”
That got another meow, in return, which was just the little, rather young seeming cat letting the woman know that she had her back that way.
They all had to break up then in order to get things done. It really wasn’t even close enough to being enough time for it. By the time three hours had passed, thanks to the use of Infected powers, hard work and some Noram style magical clothing amulets, they had everyone there wearing identical clothing, which were black suits with maroon lace around the cuffs and collars, shiny black boots with the pant legs tucked in and round black hats with bills on them.
It looked a little fancy and girly to him, but it was his own fault. He’d asked for something military seeming without being too threatening. Tidy black with lace being visible would do the trick, he had to guess.
Even better, they were all going to be seen on television that way, since short notice or not, telling the world that a bunch of aliens were coming to talk about open relations and the travel system got attention pretty darned quick.
It wasn’t going to be seen globally or anything, but their own IPB alert system and several local stations would be covering it, with two of the four big twenty-four-hour news channels being there already, set up to watch everything.
Still, they were barely ready to do anything when the first people came out of the tiny red hut. That, because Cindy was a marvel, had been taken down and moved to just outside the conference room door. That was put back up with the tap of a glowing sigil. Almost as if planned out, the men and women of the IPB, mainly those from Team One, stood at attention and marched forward, in two lines. The lock step was incredible. Practiced even, which wasn’t real.
Then, when the first people came out, being Prince Alphonse, Tiera Baker and several other important seeming and mainly tall people, including Samantha and Eva, both in decorative and lightly glowing gowns, meant to catch attention, Richard found himself marching over to them. Very officially. A thing he hadn’t done in nearly seventy years or more. Back in World War Two, to be exact. So longer ago than that.
He bowed, just outside the box, with Eve Benson vanishing in front of him, on the inside. Probably off camera. She was tidied up nicely as well.
The people arrayed there bowed back, standing when he did.
“This way, if you please? We have facilities, if needed to refresh yourselves. Food and drink are available as well. We’ll be having a full meal in several hours, but things can be brought earlier than that with no trouble at all.” His words were in Standard, though didn’t sound like him much.
As they walked away Scott Chambers, Prime, did the next set of people. They didn’t get a bow, being human line walkers from a world that didn’t do that kind of thing. The words used were nearly identical, if in English.
That someone was controlling them was pretty clear. Richard just wasn’t certain who to thank for their timely assistance. Whoever it was had his thanks though, anyway. It turned the whole event from a near disaster into something that was going to seem planned and polished as it was showed on C-span. At least he thought they might be picking it up. That was the kind of boring thing they liked, as far as he knew.
There were chairs set up, with tables. They simply filled in, from the front left, moving right and then starting on the next row again, until they were nearly filled. It took about an hour and a half for everyone to arrive, with the people from Eve’s world being the ones in the very back. If that bothered them it didn’t show at all.
That was mainly Avery Rome, who was a darling seeming partially black girl with curly hair and a face made for the movies, Troy Lopez, who was right next to her, pretending not to be a god, if that was possible. Eve, a really attractive version of Marcia Turner and himself.
At least he thought he recognized the face, from having looked in the mirror at it for close to forty years. It was older than his own was now, of course, seeming to be about thirty, give or take a few years. Maybe a well kept forty. The man was just as lean though and smiled at him charmingly when they locked eyes.
Nothing had started yet, since no one had anything planned. He was about to go over to the table and meet with Eve again, when he found himself, quite without meaning to, marching very formally up to the front of the room. All of the IPB people did that. Again, in perfect lock step. They all ended up at the front, marching in a half circle, with Richard and Marcia Turner coming up through the center, ending at the podium. A bit goofily, Marcia stomped to a stop, allowing him to move up to the microphone.
Then he spoke, in English first.
“Welcome, all of you. This summit was called by the Tricksters, to bring us together and speed along our collective line walking program. We are proud to announce that several new volunteers are entering the ranks of the training program. We’re using the term volunteer loosely, of course. From our world, Rachel Chambers and Marcia Turner, the head of the IPB, will be taking that course of study. From the world of Eve Benson we have Bey Transmorguire. From the world of Ambassador Clemance Thomson, already a line walker in his own right, we have Tom, the Ysidril. Let’s show our appreciation of these good and brave souls and the hardships they will face for all of us.”
Then he repeated the same message in Standard and Ysidril. When he looked out there was, indeed a table filled with such beings, including Tom and Area under the Arc.
He bowed then and spoke again.
“Now, we have Marcia Turner, Director of the IPB, to begin the conversation about how to increase participation in the very taxing and difficult to master field of line walking.”
He moved back. Standing there as Turner moved in. Speaking as easily as if she’d had a speech prepared on the topic. More so than that, really.
Rich still didn’t know who was controlling them all. He was still very grateful, but the idea of not knowing was also bothering him a bit. At least it was until words flashed up behind his eyes. He didn't flinch when it happened, since they faded in slowly.
Saying only Christian Pours.
She was one of the best telepaths in the world, if not someone that he’d worked with much. Still, there they were, in front of the world, with the woman backing them all up, like they were crew. The rest of the IPB was there as well. Each doing their part, or at least not screaming about mind control yet, which was close to being the same thing. Even the ones he didn't know were off in the kitchens, getting things ready for a fancy meal, even if that had to seem like it didn't make any sense at all at the moment.
Even better, after the first five minutes of talking, Marcia got to sit down at the head table, as other people moved to the podium to speak about their ideas. When Bey the vampire did it, the man didn’t even whine about being ordered into service, even if it was going to be hard to manage.
“This is a great and wonderous day! For several years, we of the vampire council have wished to improve our world’s ability to travel from place to place. We have managed with some success. Now we have that skill to share with the worlds outside our own. We offer our full aid and support in this endeavor. To this end, we offer our friends, Eve Benson, and Troy Lopez to aid in such training until such time as we have enough line walkers for each world to feel well represented.” He seemed happy enough about saying the words.
Even if Eve frowned at them a bit. Interestingly. Troy didn’t, just nodding along from next to Avery Rome. He took her hand and held it for
a bit.
When Bey stepped down, one of the Ysidril, this one being Hess, moved into place. He spoke in standard first, which had Rish making his name appear on the front of his clothing, even if it broke up the uniformity and then translating for the man. Using the same mic, which meant placing a hand on the four-armed alien’s back for stability as he leaned in.
“When asked to serve, it is the duty of each of us to do our parts. The greatest serve most. We of the Ysidril and separately but with equal fervor, we of Mars, also give the full weight of our efforts and work to this project, for the good of us all. We have one thousand volunteers standing ready for testing in this. That should lead to six beings able to perform the task. We all hope that the response will be the same from this and all other worlds, if not better.” Then, carefully, the alien man bowed.
That had everyone from the IPB in the room doing it back, with the Noram contingent doing exactly the same. Not everyone managed it, but enough did for it to look real for the cameras.
They went on that way, with funds being offered by the people from Noram, which included a full sized and too pretty looking Tor Baker, who offered a sizable amount of gold as well as magics to feed, clothe and house those learning.
Hartley the Human Line Walker offered his people to aid in training, in order to speed things up, which had Troy standing in the back of the room, clapping loudly. Alone at first, though soon everyone was doing it. It was a bigger deal than it probably seemed at first, being that the man saying it was the first real line walker, as far as anyone knew. The one who had trained most of the others, originally.
Then, just as Samantha the energy being was moving forward to add something of her own, a clamor started on the edges of the room. With the news people. One of them, a bit rudely, moved forward. His voice was both baffled and pretentious.
“We… Something is going on. We’re off the air. Still recording, so we should do that… but…” he clutched his ear then and listened for a while. “Okay… Got it Brad… That…”
After about a minute the man moved to the front of the room, acting as if history were about to be made.
“Ladies and gentlemen. The internet, all television programming and all radio have been taken over. It seems that this is some sort of terrorist attack.” He actually seemed scared.
For his part, his voice being calm and for the first time that evening, his own, Richard moved to the microphone himself.
“Can we get a television in here? What do they want? We should secure the diplomats here. Can we ready transport to their worlds?” He looked at Hartley then, the man standing up while nodding.
His voice was strong, even if he looked fairly average really. Thin and hard working. That was a good look for a man.
“We’ll do that directly. Then come back here, in case you need help, fighting.” Those words, interestingly enough, had most of the people staying put. The Ysidril, being wise and totally nonviolent like they were, all left. The rest of them either pulled weapons or seemed to be ready to rush head long into battle for the strange world they were in.
It was both a danger and a good thing to see happening. A great one. After all, having friends was a plus in life, most of the time. These were, at least so far, some of the best pals he’d ever had.
Chapter fifteen
Marcia Turner, following the long held IPB tradition, went on the air live as soon as possible. That was after eight hours of every television station, radio broadcast and the entire world’s internet having been totally co-opted. Except for the cartoon network. That one had been Bridget Chamber’s idea, so that the little kids of the world would have at least one thing to see that didn't involve some of the most gruesome footage and stories that anyone had ever heard.
The world reacted in a strange way. True, most of them were horrified by what they were seeing. The rest had divided almost instantly into two camps. First, about ten percent of people simply refused to think that what had been shown could be real at all. Even if the video feeds were all solid and untampered with. They simply showed too many high-powered people, doing far too many monstrous things.
There was a second, larger group that, as soon as the internet was back, simply agreed that it was all real. Worse, that they’d heard tales of that kind of thing for decades in some cases and had done nothing about it. Which was what they all figured would be happening to the very powerful then, as well.
That was, that no prosecution could touch some of the worst offenders. They were, as they no doubt liked to tell people, simply above the law. Like the ex-secretary of state, who actually muttered that on television, even if there had been video playing of her and her girlfriend skinning a girl’s face and wearing it around while mocking the kid.
Going live on television was a mistake, of course.
As she stood there, claiming that the world was seeing lies and that she couldn’t be touched for it, actually foaming at the mouth, she caught on fire. The flames were a brilliant green and not anything that Richard had expected as well. The screams were terrible, of course.
That happened to every single person who had been called out on the net or television that day who dared to be seen in public trying to defend themselves.
Rich didn’t run to Mableton for answers, though the woman put some letters behind his eyes to explain it all. That part was a bit surprising. He’d figured that, if it wasn’t her doing, directly, then it was some Infected person striking back, knowing that the evil people of the world really were almost totally untouchable.
It wasn’t. Instead it seemed that it was an eleven-year-old boy and several of his friends who had escaped from people like that. Only after learning magic enough to keep themselves safe.
As the highly powered creepers died, the video of what they’d done, mainly censored, went live on the web. Not just the deep portions of it, the whole thing. Which meant that by three in the morning, with a room full of dignitaries still with them, ready to defend the world from whatever they could, even if it hadn’t been needed so far, the net was taken down.
The hard way. Thirteen facilities were blown up, all at the same time, by what seemed to be military teams.
Director Turner nodded at the idea.
“It will be called terrorism, even if the only groups that can pull that sort of thing off are all special forces. Then, the earlier event had to be as well. I don’t know who could manage that sort of thing. These two events don’t seem related.”
She was speaking to the press, most of whom were either totally out of touch with their own people, or already live. Not that the world would really be watching, since it was so early in the day. No one there had even bothered trying to sleep.
Rich doubted that they’d get to for a few days, given how tense the world was. At seven, the President, who niftily enough didn’t have a horror tape that had been released, even if some of his public enemies had them all over the net, in ways that would be impossible to hide, made a speech.
They all watched it, wondering if the man was going to burst into green flame like so many others had. Instead the rather orange looking fellow who spoke like an educated dock worker, managed to make his face seem grim. There was a closeup of it, making the man seem kind of menacing. Some of the news stations even played sinister music under it.
Which worked, given the statement being made.
“Our country is facing a massive crisis. I just signed an emergency powers act that will allow us to place all resources into punishing the wrong doers and to restore our infrastructure. We will have trial by military tribunal, starting in thirty days. I urge everyone to stay calm and remember that we are a land ruled by laws, not men and not those who would harm the most innocent amongst us.” Then, having made the shortest speech of his career, the man practically stormed off the stage.
When the rather flabbergasted funny boy from CNN spoke next, the darker skinned one who had made his chops attacking anyone that didn't think like he did, the man made a mistake
.
“Did… I really just hear that? The President of the United States is planning to declare martial law and take over as dictator for life? We all know what emergency powers means! This is… This is it. We need to rise up in the streets and fight. Get out of your houses and attack the racist conservatives! Now is the time, the last that we have. If we don’t fight this evil now, fight these blatant lies and liars, then all is lost. Go and take action now. This is the revolution! Go and kill them all!”
Don, which turned out to be the man’s name, managed to go on in that vein for about ten minutes, before Richard excused himself and entered into the mirror in the restroom of the main office.
It took ten seconds to find the man in a reflection, since he had a mirror under the news desk. Then it took ten minutes more to deliver the man to the DHS, directly. He didn't really know who he needed to be packed away to, after all, so it took a while to get it done.
That meant the man had called for violence for nearly twenty minutes. In a way that clearly looked like he was backing up the abusers and killers of the world. Which even Richard was willing to guess wasn’t actually the case. The man was just blinded by his own ideology and couldn’t see that good people could disagree with him without actually being racist, sexist or a homophobe at all.
Instead of talking about the news, or even people running for the borders, most of the news stations started to cover that. A vanishing newsman was thought to be the big crime of the day, for some reason.
At noon, Cindy and Marcia both came out to the front space of the packed office. Certain people were gone, of course. Brian Yi was nowhere to be found, for instance. Neither was Lydia or Team Four. Riggs was still there, actually working in the kitchen like he normally did. His imaginary friends were all gone, however.
Cin looked at him then, with a wave.