Dire : Wars (The Dire Saga Book 4)

by Andrew Seiple

  “Hm.” El Jefe gestured with one hand. My fingers reached up once more as my will crumbled.

  But it was too late.

  “Verification failed,” my armor told me. “Initiating Mentat Protocols.”

  “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR PSYCHIC ATTACK.” My armor bellowed. “YOU HAVE TEMPORARILY DISABLED DIRE.”

  El Jefe took a step back, eyes widening. “Oh shit!”

  “FORTUNATELY FOR HER, SHE HAD THE FORESIGHT TO PROGRAM IN A SUBROUTINE FOR THIS VERY OCCURANCE.”

  He turned to run.

  He made it three feet before my auto-targeting locked on and particle beams lanced forth out of my gauntlets. I cried out in pain as the armor moved on its own, forcing my arms within their harness as they tracked and fired and killed every motherfucker in the room, just as I’d programmed them to.

  Then, when everyone was on the ground with smoldering holes in their corpses, it turned and started searching for the next group of victims, engaging different sight modes. But the brain freeze was gone, and I could think again.

  “Override six four swordfish Durandal!” I howled.

  “Verified. Welcome back, Doctor.” My armor pinged, and went out of homicidal rampage mode. “Manual control returned.”

  I toggled Suru’s channel on again. “Mind Controller confirmed, killed. Apologies for getting cocky there, that almost turned out bad.”

  “I told you!” Alpha managed to make his monotone voice synthesizer sound almost scolding. Cute, really.

  With a sigh, I slogged through the armory, amping up my audio sensors as I went. They sparked and one blew, but the other one was functional enough, I could hear water ahead... and the sound of a boat’s engine starting up.

  “Oh hell no!” I couldn’t just bash through the walls down here, they were converted rock caves, enlarged and carved out by the Spanish.

  “What?” Alpha asked.

  “He’s getting away!” I burst down into a long, low sea cave, with water filling a circular middle channel. Faux rock facing had been peeled away from the side of the cliff, letting daylight into the hidden cove. And just as I burst out into the middle of it, hovering over the water, I caught the back of a white yacht as it sped out into the bay.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “What are you talking about?” I pushed the suit, tried to get more speed out of it, but I was moving slowly, so slowly. The armor had been through the wringer up above, and some of the gravitics had been knocked out of alignment. Pushing gravitic thrusters when they’re damaged is a good way to launch your propulsion unit into orbit, and yourself into the Earth, with disastrous effects all around.

  “Is it a bad thing that he gets away?” Alpha asked. “You’ve driven him from his palace, maybe even into exile. Without him the army’s leaderless. Thanks to his micromanaging style, if he goes then rebels have a shot at winning. The Chamis will be off the target list, the loyalists will have other priorities. You’ve won. You can leave this nation behind, and move on with your agenda. Your friends will be safe, and you’ll avoid any further entanglements.”

  I considered it. I honestly did. He was correct, yes, and I did have other priorities to see to. With Alpha in my grasp and no longer a rogue element, the most unpredictable variable in my path had left the board.

  I could move on. Pack up my things and go, in the chaos of a country fighting a civil war. The only real friends I’d made here were out of the line of fire, and had sense enough to take care of themselves.

  But then I remembered Mally’s face as she laughed. I remembered how she’d looked on the beach; maimed, perhaps even dying or dead at this point, pointlessly, at the behest of a man who didn’t even know her. And I remembered the boast I’d made.

  “No,” I said, wringing what speed I could out of the armor. Just enough to nudge out of the cave, and then I switched into hover mode, as I realigned power to the railgun. “Wouldn’t fit her kayfabe. Dire said she was coming for Corazon. Backing down here would not match the image she’s striving for. No, she’s not letting this one go.”

  “Kayfabe?”

  “It began the second she stepped out of retirement,” I said, lining up the shot. Particle beams, fifty percent charge. One burst of golden light, and the back of the yacht ceased to be. The yacht tilted nose down, and started to sink. “She’s building a narrative about herself, playing to the world. From the point she started that narrative, she’s had the luxury of being in control of the story. Failing to be the implacable fist of justice here wouldn’t fit. It would break the narrative.” I crossed the distance leisurely, searching among the ruins, checking each flailing form, occasionally pulling them out of the water, then dropping them back in when I confirmed they weren’t my target.

  A tap against my helmet, and my proximity sensors registered incoming fire. I swiveled, glanced to the right. “AH. THERE YOU ARE.”

  The dictator du jour was clinging to a life preserver with one hand, and firing a Walther PPK at me with the other. It was almost adorable.

  I flew over, scooped him out of the drink. Throughout the whole maneuver he kept firing at me, doing his damnedest to peg the mask every time. Once out of the water he shivered, his plump, aged form shaking from the top of his forage cap to the soles of his black, spit-polished boots.

  Once he’d fought for almost a decade in his native jungles to depose the worst dictator Mariposa had ever seen. He spent the four decades after his ascension aiming to beat the guy’s record for number of atrocities committed.

  “Who are you?” He barked. “Identify yourself!”

  “YOU HAVE THE HONOR OF BEING EXECUTED BY DOCTOR DIRE.” I said, holding him firm by his arm with one hand, and closing the other around his head.

  “Do it then! Get it over with!”

  An old monster, this one. I knew that he’d been expecting, if not this, some sort of violent death. Perhaps it was a relief?

  I stayed my hand. “Alpha, Suru, any outstanding warrants on this guy?”

  “I believe he’s wanted by the UN for war crimes,” Alpha chimed in.

  “Affirmative,” Suru spoke up.

  “Odds of conviction if delivered to a representative of the United Nations?” I inquired.

  “On American soil, twelve percent assuming he reaches trial.”

  “That low? Why?” I frowned.

  “Favorable trade agreements and past behavior have indicated a willingness among United States administrations to overlook Corazon’s crimes, in exchange for continued economic advantage and a reasonably stable regime in the area. Furthermore, the current popular opinion within the United States does not favor acceptance of the UN.”

  I gnawed my lip. I’d programmed a “big picture analysis” function into Suru. She was probably right. “Alternative governments able to prosecute him for his atrocities?”

  “Haiti, The Dominican Republic, Brazil, or Southern Mexico would be the closest probabilities with a seventy-percent chance of conviction rate the highest possible.”

  That would do. Even if he wasn’t convicted, it would tie him up for a year or so. In his absence, power would change hands, and he’d lose his little kingdom. And if he somehow managed to dodge all that and keep power, I could always come back and finish him off.

  More importantly, it would humiliate him in a way that simple execution could not. But first...

  I reversed course, holding tight to Corazon, heading back across the bay. Back to Mariposa City.

  “What are you doing?” He yelled.

  “SHOWING YOUR LOYAL POPULACE JUST HOW FAR YOU’VE FALLEN.”

  “Look, we can work something out.”

  “NO, WE REALLY CAN’T.”

  “Who are you? Where the hell did you come from? Are you American?”

  “POSSIBLY.”

  “I have money.”

  “YOU’RE TALKING TO THE ONE PERSON ON THIS ISLAND WHO PROBABLY DOESN’T CARE ABOUT MONEY.”

  “I have metahumans. Tamed ones. Broken ones. Ready to be t
rained, and shaped to your will...”

  “THREE LESS NOW. AND THE ANSWER’S STILL NO.”

  “What do you want? Surely there is something.”

  Anger bubbled in the back of my skull again.

  “SURE. THERE ARE ABOUT A DOZEN DEAD CHAMIS IN THE SOUTHERN VILLAGE, YOU KNOW, THE ONE YOU BOMBARDED? BRING THEM BACK AND WE’LL CALL IT EVEN.”

  We traveled in silence for a minute.

  “NO? WELL THEN, OFF TO THE HUMILIATION CONGA-LINE. CHOP CHOP, WE’VE GOT A BUSY DAY AHEAD.” My shadow passed over the beach, and the looky-loos gathered there pointed as we passed. I switched my grip to Corazon’s arms and paused, giving them a good look. They followed when I resumed my course toward the center of town.

  “You think the Chamis innocent?” He asked, looking at me with scorn.

  “HMM?”

  “No one on this island is innocent. You have no idea what secrets are here, what enemies you’ve made.”

  “ASK HER IF SHE CARES.” We flew across the Barrio del Flores, and people on the rooftops waved. Some of them bore rebel scarves and colors. Evidently the Army hadn’t gotten around to securing the entire city yet.

  “You think removing me will make a difference?” Corazon burst out. “Ha! I was the only one holding the wolves at bay! Kill me, exile me, whatever, you’ll be dead before the month is out. And they’ll put a puppet on the throne.”

  “YOU ASSUME SHE WANTS THE THRONE.”

  “You’re a fool if you don’t. You won’t survive without it.”

  “HUSH NOW. HERE WE ARE.”

  Below me rose the center of town, and the arched form of the Cabildo.

  The Spanish Conquistadors had conquest and Colonialism down to an art form, back in the day. When they built a government center, the Cabildo was the second building up, following the church. Always two stories, with a tower in the center of it, and arched porches with many doors inside. It was used for council meetings, administration, and all sorts of official business.

  So it was only fitting that I landed on the roof, hovering an inch above it to avoid damaging the tiled surface, holding El Presidente high in one arm. I displayed my trophy for all to see, and the mob gathered below, low and hungry. Already some of them were calling for his blood, or cursing him.

  “HOW THEY HATE YOU,” I mused.

  “The fools!” He spat to the side. “They don’t know what I’ve done for them. What I’ve done for my country!”

  “NO, SHE RATHER THINKS THEY DO. THEY DO KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO THIS COUNTRY. TO YOUR OWN PEOPLE.” I turned up my volume, so all could hear. “JORGE CORAZON! YOU ARE BROKEN! YOU HAVE COMMITTED THE CARDINAL SIN OF OPPOSING DIRE!”

  Suru chimed. “Sniper at ten o’clock.”

  What? I checked my HUD. Nothing. I lifted my gaze upward, to the corporate towers across the square. Empty roofs, all. “Check again Suru,” I muttered. I turned my attention back to the scene I was building.

  “PEOPLE OF MARIPOSA!” I roared. “WITNESS HOW THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN! CORAZON, THE DEVIL WHO HAS HOUNDED YOU FOR YEARS, FELL IN MINUTES TO THE WRATH OF DIRE!”

  Corazon’s head exploded.

  I whipped my view up again, and the next bullet caught me square in the mask. Damage alerts howled, going from green to yellow. I didn’t know what the hell those bullets were, but they had some serious penetration to them.

  Below me the mob’s screams rose to a crescendo. And in a split-second, I knew what I had to do.

  I forced myself to stand still, pretended to ignore the shots that crashed into my mask. I turned my gaze back into the crowd like they were of no consequence at all. And sure enough, after two more rounds the unseen sniper ceased fire.

  Which was good, because I was running out of structural integrity. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead as the seconds passed... and eventually I deemed myself out of danger.

  The next part would be the hard part. And I’d have to see it through, if I wanted a happy ending out of this mess.

  I dropped Corazon’s twitching shell at my feet, and put my gauntlets to the armor’s hips. “FOR TOO LONG YOU WERE SLAVES TO CORAZON’S WILL. NO LONGER!”

  Gods, I didn’t want to do this. And yet...

  “FEAST YOUR EYES UPON YOUR NEW OVERLORD!” I lifted my arm high into the air, punching at the sky. “ALL HAIL DOCTOR DIRE!”

  And as they chorused it back to me, I have to admit that some small, petty part of me rejoiced.

  CHAPTER 7: DICTATORSHIP FOR DUMMIES

  “On the one hand, she’s a homicidal wanted criminal and probably insane. On the other hand, she hasn’t raised taxes yet.”

  --Random man on the street interviewed by del Mundo reporters on September 22, 2003

  I fired up the gravitics, and jumped off the Cabildo, landing in a clear patch of street to the East. The mob gave me plenty of space, even as they kept cheering. I walked leisurely, taking stock of my damage. Not undoable, I thought.

  “Suru?”

  “Yes, Doctor?”

  “Restore the gridnet, would you?”

  “Affirmative. It will take some time to restore functionality.”

  “That’s fine.” One didn’t simply cut the cable, then expect a simple re-connection to negate the effects. The computers on both ends would have to synch up again.

  “So what now?” Alpha asked. “And why did you ignore that sniper?”

  “That’s a very good question. The answer to the second is probably shenanigans.”

  “Shenanigans?”

  “Powers, tech, some sort of mystical voodoo-what-have-you. In any case the sniper’s not a threat to Dire unless she gets out of the armor.”

  “You’ll have to some time.”

  “Between the catheter, waste-eliminating disintegration chamber, feeding ports, water-collection reservoir, and sleeping harness, Dire figures she can put that off for oh, a week or two at most.” I sniffed. “Rather not have to. It’d get pretty ripe in here.”

  “What exactly did you build this suit for?” Alpha asked.

  “Pretty much anything. Well, not Crusader.” I grimaced. “Need more dakka for that.”

  “Dakka?”

  “Obscure gaming geek reference. Anyway, shush, it’s on to step two of her cunning plan.”

  “Oh, this’ll be good.”

  “Shoosh!” The palace was just up ahead, and the men manning the walls did not seem happy to see me. A bullet pinged off the ground near me.

  “Get back!” A man with a megaphone shouted.

  “YOU KNOW SHE JUST KILLED CORAZON, RIGHT?”

  The mob behind me cheered. I saw the soldiers look at each other.

  “HE DEFIED DIRE. DO YOU WANT TO DEFY DIRE AS WELL?”

  Heads started going down, disappearing behind the wall. I switched to thermal sight, watched several of them withdraw back into the towers, and down.

  “MARIPOSA IS NOW THE DOMAIN OF DOCTOR DIRE! SHE IS YOUR NEW EMPRESS-FOR-LIFE!”

  Heads poked cautiously back up. The few that hadn’t fled looked to the corpse, looked back to me.

  “AND THOSE OF YOU WHO STILL POSSESS THE COURAGE TO STAND ON THAT WALL MAY RETAIN YOUR JOBS. HAIL DIRE!” I punched the air above my head.

  “Hail Dire!” The mob behind me cheered.

  “Hail Dire!” One officer up on the walls responded, and the rest of the soldiers did their damnedest to outpunch him.

  The mob followed me up to the gates. I tossed Corazon’s corpse back over my shoulder, and they fell upon it like angry dogs, beating it with whatever they had handy. While they were thus distracted, I shut the gates behind me. The old wood groaned... it hadn’t been closed for decades. More decoration than anything, really. The heavy machine guns up on the walls made a better defense than a few inches of studded wood.

  I turned from the gates to see the officer approaching. “YOU, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

  He swallowed, slowing as he looked up. “Garcia, señora... Empress.”

  “DIRE. EMPRESS DIRE.”

  “Ye
s, Empress Dire.”

  “WHO WAS CORAZON’S STEWARD?”

  “Pardon, please? I do not understand.”

  “WHO DID HE PICK TO BOTHER WITH THINGS HE COULDN’T BE BOTHERED WITH?”

  “Ah!” Clarity dawned.

  Two minutes later I was in Corazon’s spacious luxury suite of an office, looking over his secretary.

  She was a small, mousy-looking woman with big glasses, brown poofy hair, and a light brown skin. My suit’s sensors informed me she was precisely five feet and three inches tall, and two inches of that came from the heels she wore. A bit on the chubby side, she hid her figure with a simple white blouse and black skirt.

  Her fingers were stained with ink, and the notebook in her hands trembled, as she held a pen over it. The mouse comparison seemed apt now, going by the naked fear in her face as she stared up at me.

  My feet were doing a number on the tiled floor, so I stopped moving, peered down. I dialed down my voice to its lowest setting.

  “YOUR NAME?”

  “Ah! Señorita Spetta.”

  “SEÑORITA?” That was a term for younger women, girls mostly. She didn’t look old, but if she was under thirty I’d eat my railgun.

  “He... the President used to call me señorita.”

  “AND NOW HE IS DEAD.”

  She swallowed, hard. “Y-yes.”

  “DOES THAT UPSET YOU?”

  “A little, yes.” She flinched, looked away. Looked back when I didn’t react.

  “DIRE CAN SEE THAT IT WOULD BE A LITTLE UPSETTING. WELL, HOPEFULLY THAT SHOULD BE ALL THE BLOODSHED YOU’LL SEE HERE IN THE FUTURE.”

  “That’ll be a neat trick,” Alpha snarked. “The whole ‘now the tyrant of an island nation right in the middle of a civil war’ thing? Did you forget that?”

  “On the contrary, it’s foremost in mind.” I whispered. “But even if it takes a little violence, this lady shouldn’t see that.”

  “Which reminds me, the back of your suit’s been sparking for the last few minutes. You going to do something about that?” I checked the HUD’s. Yep, we had a neat little cascade failure going on.