by P. S. Power
Also, chances were good that the river wasn’t going to be dredged any time soon. That was expensive and he’d acted fairly randomly. The only people that would be able to track him were the ones that had sent him out in the first place. The government, who had access to all the correct data, showing him going there.
The rest of the trip back was slow, silent and focused on things that almost didn’t make sense. The ball of flame in the air, for instance, was incredibly impressive. It had lasted for a while too, which was hard to understand. Regina had told him that Wizards could only do that kind of thing about once an hour, but he’d envisioned it as being a bit more like starting a single item of fire. What he’d seen could be used to kill nearly a hundred people in the time that it had been there, hovering and frying the world around it.
Three, or possibly four, men doing that every hour would be a real problem. If they coordinated the attacks correctly, it could be even more devastating. Use the flames on the edges to cause the Stena soldiers to recoil toward the center, then set off a simple bomb there, taking out thousands at once.
Doing that once, possibly twice, would set the forces to fleeing, he didn’t doubt. No one had training to even prepare them for that kind of thing.
George was a freaking Weapons Master and Cleot hadn’t even mentioned what to do if you were attacked by a Wizard like that. The clear plan, now that he thought about it, was running and hiding until they couldn’t act, then hunting the Wizard down and killing them. In personal combat that probably wasn’t going to really work, however. Worse, it wasn’t just flame, either. They could control any of the elements, supposedly.
That was, he knew, the states of matter, not elements at all, but that probably wasn’t going to help him in the moment. George didn’t let that get him down though. After all, he had a few edges that the other side didn’t. For one, he knew that the terrorist, at least part of the time, could do magic in his world. The next time they met that would have to end. Hopefully from a distance.
He also knew that the Chief of the Tollan, who was clearly playing Shaka Zulu, and bringing all the tribes together under his banner, was able to do things that normal barbarians couldn’t. Magic, but also get things like bombs put together.
The trick of course was finding a way to take the man and his crew down, before they could kill his friends in Stena. That one was clear for once to him. It wasn’t good, but misguided people on one side, coming for them due to ideology. Not there. It was a group of bloodthirsty bandits coming for innocent people who largely would have preferred being left alone.
The U.S. had a tendency to screw with a lot of people behind the scenes, so there was resistance to it. Some of it was even earned, if a bit misplaced by the ones attacking. Street cops weren’t responsible for bombing small villages overseas, after all. That could be understood however, when they got angry and tried to give some of that back to the infidels.
Sure, they would have eventually attacked anyway, but the idea of being innocent of wrongdoing at the start of it was ludicrous. For America.
Stena however was just existing and not seeking expansion or to take things from the people to the south. They even had all the land and resources they needed to keep their lifestyles going well, as far as he could tell. There were no economic pressures put on them, they just loved to rape women and kill people for their goods. Raiders, who were much like the Vikings of old, at a guess. They probably had some cultural tradition that explained it.
If your culture allowed the harming of others however, then it was innately wrong. Bad, evil and needed to be stopped.
So, for once, he was on the side of the good guys. There was no gray area to it for him either. Yes, he knew that each Tollan wasn’t responsible for the decisions of others or how they were born, but they were still part of the plan to kill him and his friends. That meant doing it to them first was fine, in his book.
The Mullah that he’d just, hopefully, killed with a solid bit of brain stem destruction, well that man might have what he thought of as moral reasons for what he was doing. Some of them, if exposed, George might even have agreed with. After all, if the States had killed his family or something, then of course the man would seek revenge. That had to be stopped, but it was part of a cycle that wasn’t good or right, really.
An eye for an eye made everyone blind.
This other problem was simpler than that. Not that he was losing sleep over killing the terror leader. If you got yourself into a war with anyone, you were announcing yourself as a fair target. George was now himself, which he accepted. The people around him would be in danger, if he were found out, so he took pains to hide that, so that Gary, Wendy, their kids and even Gina, wouldn’t be at risk.
Not more than was needed.
Even with everything, the drive back home was less tense for him. The roads had been clear of cars, since there was a curfew on, but no one had tried to even stop him, since of course, there was a pass for official vehicles and even private citizens who had a reason to be out, for legitimate business. If stopped, he had an FBI badge in his pocket, but it was so cold that not even the cops wanted to stand out in it. He didn’t blame them. Really, if it had been him and he’d had that job, sitting in a warm station house or whatever they called it would have been his primary goal for the night.
Even the terrorists had just been moving a few hundred feet to pray. They’d bundled up for it, too.
The only dangerous thing out that night had been him and while the police probably would have tried to stop him, they would have been in the wrong to do so. For once their laziness and soft, cushy insides had worked out for the best.
Some crimes were needed, for the good of the country.
“Hold on to that thought, when they sell you down the river, George.” He spoke to himself, but didn’t answer. After all, he wasn’t that kind of insane.
Hopefully he wasn’t the type of crazy that imagined fire balls in the air either.
“That bit is going to be fun to report.”
It kind of had to be mentioned, because it was a factor in the event, at least for him, but suggesting that one of the people on the other side had super human powers would probably fly as well as him letting drop that he lived in two worlds. One way or the other the things went hand in hand, no doubt.
Either he was gone in the head, the most likely answer, or it was real and had to be spoken of. Instead of worrying about it, he slowly got himself home, getting in just in time to meet a team of people in civilian clothing, standing on his doorstep. Getting ready to knock. He waved at them, since it was kind of clear they were the team coming to get Gina. They looked ready to fight, with one of them having restraints in his hand. That made sense for most of the things that this kind of special crew had to do. The drug addled and resistant family members of secret agents didn’t get a choice about being fixed, by the time this crowd was brought in. Hopefully it wouldn’t be needed this time.
“Hello?”
It was his door, so they were the ones who had to announce themselves. After all, they might have been there to arrest him. In that case… Well, he was armed. They were too, but if he moved first, at those ranges, he could win.
The woman, who was pleasant looking once she smiled, had short blonde hair and green eyes. They were so bright they nearly had to be contacts.
“George Elder? We’re from Link Recovery… Here for Gina Nevins? We don’t know what to expect from her, so…” She was leading him, but he smiled at her.
“Cooperation. This is her idea. She’s all in on it. Not that she won’t do drugs if they’re in front of her. Here, let’s see if she ran away while I was out?”
She hadn’t. She didn’t have anything to pack, but smiled when he came in. Her face fell a bit seeing the other people, but that was mainly due to the woman being there with him, and changed, brightening when the large men also walked into the medium sized apartment.
“Hey! Um, are these the people?”
; He got to nod then, smiling.
“That they are. Forgive the dour looks. They just weren’t sure if they had to wrestle you into the van. I haven’t gotten their names. This is Gina, though.”
Rather than tackle the small dark haired ex-stripper the blonde woman smiled, which seemed to be actually containing some interpersonal warmth.
“Holly Verinous. These are Rick and Gene. Do you need to get anything? We should try and get going, while we still have some light. There’s a bit of a drive to the airport.”
Gina took a deep breath, then nodded.
“I’m good. You’re going to take everything when I get there anyway, right? Here, like, pat me down now. I don’t have anything on me. I’m not holding…”
Holly nodded at her, but actually did a good job on the search. Which turned up nothing at all. Instead of pretending to be stupid, she also checked the coat and gloves that were going to be put on, as well as the hat.
“Perfect! You’d be shocked at how many people think they’re going to sneak in with something, even if they’re coming in on their own. When we get there, you’ll get the whole search of course. You don’t mind if we finger your behind, do you?”
That got a smile which seemed real enough.
“You know, at my last job I got tips if I let someone do that…”
They all laughed, getting it. Which meant that Gina had undergone a solid background check already. That was impressive. George walked them to the unmarked SUV they were driving, but only waved at the end, not touching the woman.
“Now, I need to get back to my real job. Killing Wizards.”
Even to him that sounded crazy.
In both worlds.
Chapter eleven
The point George came back into the world was only about ten minutes after he left, even though that literally didn't make any sense at all. Much like the part where he’d lost a month, a couple of times, it had to count toward the column that said the whole thing, in both realities, simply wasn’t real. Rather than worry over it, he moved along with Captain Renner and Captain Herret, toward the men that they needed to try and get to go along with them.
That was going to be needed, but it wasn’t going to go over well, he didn’t think.
Renner looked at him as they moved, the man seeming thinner than he’d been all those months before. George was as well, after his weeklong exercise and fasting experience. So far he hadn’t even gotten to relax or eat there. The times just didn’t work out. Plus, refeeding like that had to be done carefully. Not just by stuffing his face with gruel or anything like that. His digestive system had pretty much turned itself off, not being needed.
Getting it started again was a real trick. It would happen, if he ate, but needing to double over in pain from doing it wrong would lower his fighting capability by too much at the moment. Interestingly, the older man, Captain Renner, cleared his throat.
“I don’t think you should be going, Captain Elder. You can’t add to this, as for skills right now, and frankly, your best speed is going to slow us down. None here will doubt your bravery.” He shut up then, his lips tight, as if he expected a real fight on the idea.
Instead of backing George up, Captain Herret nodded.
“Agreed. We can’t stop you, given our orders, but sneaking into the enemy camp isn’t going to go better taking a starving and exhausted man who is also wounded in with us. Unless you have some skill or magic that you haven’t mentioned before? If you’re a secret Wizard, then don’t hold back. We won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He seemed to mean it, and actually looked slightly hopeful about the idea.
George was limping along, his feet so sore that it was legitimately hard to keep up with the slow walk the other men had going on. He could go in, of course, but they were both correct. He didn’t add anything of note to the plan.
“Not at all. Some information, but you have that. The thing with the man from the other world leading the barbarians.” Part of him wanted to feel bad about using that kind of term, but it fit so well, in this case. The Tollan simply weren’t great people as a group. Certainly, not ones to feel a need to go all PC over.
Renner grinned, but it was a dark thing that seemed a bit hard, underneath.
“Good then. I know that you would go. We all do. Also, that it would get you and probably some of us, killed. We’ll like as not half die anyway. Let’s not hand them a total victory. Besides, this way you can always come in and save the day after we fail.”
He nodded, but then shook his head.
“You won’t. The hard part will be forcing the Wizards to attack first thing. We have catapults with us, right?” Those weren’t normally used in battle, being too hard to aim, as well as slow, but they might work at the moment. They were there after all.
The older Captain huffed a bit as they moved. He was in fine shape, but it was conditioned for a man in his fifties, which had some drawbacks. It wasn’t bad though, so the man might have just been thinking and expressing it with a heavy sigh.
“You want to goad the Wizards to hit those first? I can see that working. They’re men after all. They have limits, if pressed and scared enough. If we can get the devices far enough from the others, then one of the barbarian magic users can’t take out more than one in an hour or two. Mayhap more. We’ll have to toss rocks all the way to the back of their fighting lines, which isn’t the normal way. Those magic devices that are coming, how long will those take to make the front of battle?” It was clear he meant the bombs, even if they weren’t magic at all.
George shrugged, which got Herret to do the same thing, as if he might know the answer.
“We don’t even know the size, do we? The Witch said that much. Things carried by six men each, so if we see clusters of bodies we’ll know what is coming. Before then? I doubt we can actually do anything to stop them from coming. My guess is that we won’t have long after the start of conflict. If we can get them to use their powers first thing, that might take the Wizards out for a while. The time will be tight, from one thing to the next.”
That was about what George was thinking, so he didn’t add anything. It wasn’t like he had a real part in the plan now. Even on the battle line he was going to be more than half useless. He was just too beaten up for the time being. That didn't mean being useless however. Not as long as he could still think. If anyone at all would let him add any ideas to things.
Renner clapped him on the back.
“Toward the command line to get those set. Marcus, you have the troops selected for this? Let them know that it’s an order from the highest. We don’t have time for a two-week discussion on the honor involved in this.” The way he said the words, it was kind of clear that was what he expected.
In the end the men were fighters though. Soldiers of Stena. If they had to die, or kill a leader using trickery, then it was their job. Even if they didn’t feel all that great about it later. That was the lot of soldiers everywhere. The problem was that sending in people too resistant to doing the task might be dooming them to death. If you hesitated for too long, you could die, even if you were willing to get the job done in theory.
George had no clue who was going to be going. Not him, which was actually sensible. Then, he’d been in the war before. Even the week before it had happened. He’d had enough time to learn how to not be the kid his body looked like there in Stena. Rather than bitch and moan over his glory being stolen, he turned his mind toward figuring out how to survive.
Rather than get to do that, he was waved over by several men who were standing next to the large log constructions that had been turned into levers. On wheels. Which was the current problem. He jogged over, being on the far-right side of the battle line, seeing that one of the things had broken an axle. Without waiting he worked out what was going to be needed as he came over.
They didn’t have time to fix anything. No one even thought to ask about that. Pointing he yelled.
“Aim it to the south! Get that second catapult at le
ast three hundred feet away from it.” The magical fireball in his own world hadn’t moved that fast, so if that held out with the other Wizards, having some distance might make a difference. Then again, it might not. One sample wasn’t enough to really tell him much. Plus, the rules of physics might be different in Springfield.
There was no way at all to tell that part of things. Not in the time they had. They had to scramble, pulling at the ropes attached to the wooden weapon of war. The things were thick, twisted fibers. Tan and stabbing as his callused hands worked on them. He probably wasn’t doing his part, aching too much, but George heaved when the Sergeant in command of the squad ordered it done.
“Pull!” The man grunted, since he was on a rope as well. There were about twenty men working on the thing and it was just enough to shift the aiming point. Now they just had to hope that the Tollan played by their rules and came straight at them up the low hill. They had the rivers on either side, so it looked promising.
If they actually did it, George was going to be shocked.
Thinking about it, he would have gone around them and forced the fight to be in a different location, instead of anyone else’s chosen battlefield position. The Tollan weren’t great soldiers though. Their customs and traditions were being changed, but that could be all about the new trick that the terrorist was bringing to them. The thing with the bomb really only worked if they bunched up and fought in a line.
If they weren’t trapped, he would have suggested any of six different options that might have worked nearly as well. They were however, so it was time to get ready. On the fun side, they could hear drums in the distance. He could at least. That hadn’t happened before. Next to him, Captain Renner winked at him.