by Pam Uphoff
Forty-one was standing back, eyeing the unrepentant crowd uneasily.
Vlad looked around and spotted an empty crate. Turned it upside down and stepped up on it. "It has always been a tenet of our society that we had a right, and a duty, to protect ourselves, and to come to the assistance of anyone being victimized. Unfortunately our . . . invaders from Stuttgart come from a society with different rights. And privileges.
"Which we will not allow them to import.
"I suggest though, that you only 'defend yourself' when there is an actual crime in progress, in case you wind up in court. But we, the City Police, do realize that due to extenuating circumstances it may not be possible for you to stick around until the police arrive to get your report." He glanced back at Forty-one. "And do not attack City Police Cyborgs. Now move along, please, it's unseemly to stand and gawk."
He stepped off the crate and pulled out his phone. Called the people who were dealing with "the special cases" that were cropping up all over the city.
Forty-one shook his head. "I really thought the Stuttgart guys were just being controlled. But I swear they must be Cyborging all the violent criminals they can find—and sending them out to terrorize their conquests. They brag about the women they rape."
“Well, this makes eleven men they've lost, and we managed to cover up all but one, once we realized that everyone was going to fight back and we needed to dispose of evidence." Vlad walked back to the manager.
"At least this time they didn't write 'Igor' on the wall in blood."
The store manager's eyes widened.
Vlad nodded. "If anyone . . . threatens you, tell them a redheaded guy dressed all in black, told the Cyborgs he was Igor, and then he beat them to death."
They stuck around until the cleanup crew was done, and then headed back toward headquarters.
"So . . . are there any decent men among the Stutties?"
"Three out of the first twenty. One out of the second. The bad ones are starting to clump and not mix in. We don't want them, and they don't want us. They are rapists and violent criminals. They are absolutely not qualified to be policemen."
"Ouch. So ten percent might be reliable." Vlad shook his head. "And . . . how are you feeling after that three day bender?"
"Fantastic." Forty-one gave him a quick glance. Held out his right hand and squeezed down a bright handful of power.
"Hot Damn!"
His phone chimed with a message. Orders to attend a conference between Governor Berezin, Chief of Police Naoumov, a representative from the Research Center, and Colonel Lehr.
The plaza in front of City Hall was not quite surrounded by the Stuttgart army, but their presence was thick on the ground.
"Park facing in, between posts. I'll slash most of the way through a link as I step over. You stay with the car and . . . hopefully there will be no need for you to come fetch me."
Forty-one scowled, nodded.
The graceful drape of the thick chain between the stone posts looked reasonably decorative. Every year or so, someone learned they were hardened steel and very well anchored.
As Vlad stepped across the chain, he steadied himself with a hand on the last link of the chain at the ring bolt set in the post, and slashed through one side and most of the other. He strode across the plaza, and a Stutt Cyborg moved to intercept him.
"I'm Senior Detective Gagarin."
"You are on the list." He looked disappointed as he turned away.
Shit. Those things really worry me. What the hell is Stuttgart doing to the men they Cyborg?
Vlad reached the steps , but turned to look upward.
A high pitched whistle and a military aircar braked and dropped. A hatch lowered and Director Rasputin stalked down the ramp, eyed Vlad.
"Senior Detective Gagarin, sir."
A nod, and the man strode up the steps, his Exec following, his right arm showing a wrap under the classy cuffs of a high priced suit.
The ramp rose and the aircar lifted off.
Vlad followed them into a high energy environment.
Definitely a meeting of mentalists.
Rasputin stopped to survey the playing field. The Governor and Chief of Police were shoulder to shoulder, a raft of flunkies behind them. The Colonel was flanked by a quartet of men with lots of medals and ribbons, tough looking Cyborgs behind them.
Rasputin with a single Exec was a bit thin on entourage, even if Vlad probably looked like he was part of it, having arrived on his heels.
A dignified young man in an expensive suit stepped out of the shadows to the right. "Do you need another assistant today, sir?"
Good . . . is that Barf?
Vlad breathed. "Take him."
"Come along then . . ."
"Mr. Var, sir."
Mr. Mateev stiffened in offense, but didn't speak.
So Director Rasputin had a three man backup crew as he stepped up to form the third point in an equilateral triangle.
Colonel Lehr took a step forward. "Gentlemen. At the moment we stand on the brink of a war that will destroy this city. You need to admit that you lost the war before it started."
"Colonel," Rasputin sounded pretty chilly. "You have already loosed upon this city a horde of violent soldiers with zero respect for the law, or even decent behavior. We assisted you when you were attacked—important citizens kidnapped and replaced—by Budapest Reborn. You have repaid this with a—so far—minimally damaging invasion. Go away before we demonstrate what sort of research we carry out Up Top."
"You have such a nice family." The Colonel smiled nastily.
"Did I say something about zero respect for the law, or even decent behavior?" Rasputin looked toward the Governor. "I agree with you, that a war would be horrible, the death toll high. But what will the toll be if we hand power over to a monster like this?"
The Governor closed his eyes in pain. "Don't, Mikhail, don't start."
The Colonel shook his head. "Rasputin, you are a trouble maker. You see, the problem we have here is a matter of numbers. If I were to kill you, I would destroy half the command structure of 'Up Top.' In the unlikely event you could kill me?"
A casual wave over his shoulder at his junior officers. "And all of them. You would have destroyed less than ten percent of my little command's officers, and we're all easily replaced. How quickly can you be replaced, Rasputin?"
"Instantly. Like you, I have a chain of command, and . . . Up Top is a bit more complex than you seem to envision. Now why don't you stop with the personal threats and discuss your withdrawal. If at any time you wish to leave, we can call a ceasefire if you start waving large white flags and cease hostilities. Then you can withdraw to your beacon and wait for a portal."
Rasputin shook his head. "Don't look amused. I'm giving you an out, for when you realize you need it."
Lehr sneered. "I'm not giving you an out. I think you'll be the next example. Since I've got you out of your aerie. Pity I don't have any zivvy, I'll just have to kill you. Or maybe just cripple you."
Rasputin flicked his glance toward the Governor and Chief. "You two need to retreat, right now."
Vlad felt the air cooling and stepped far enough away to collect some power himself. Shit! This could get nasty because everyone here is stronger than me. Except maybe Mr. Mateev.
He could see the shield reaching across the room from Rasputin to the far wall, protecting the Governor and Chief.
He took two steps to the other side, and raised his voice. "Police! Nobody better lift any weapons. Colonel Lehr, after that death threat, you had better warn your people to make no threatening moves. There is not a single cause for you to initiate violence."
The Colonel snorted. "I see we're going to have to completely replace the police force." He glared after the fast retreating Governor and Chief of Police. "We'll drag him out of his hole later, and start with you, if you interfere again, Gagarin."
Lehr switched his gaze back to the Imperials. "So . . . are you going to come quietly, Rasputi
n?"
"Hell no. Get off my World, Lehr, and take every one of your special rape robots with you."
Robot. Worst insult you can give a Cyborg . . . and most of the soldier Cyborgs deserve it.
Mr. Var eased behind Vlad and past. Barely a breath, "I'll take the one on this side, if you can keep the next guy distracted."
Uniformed officer, no armor . . . probably shields.
Vlad opened his mouth to agree, but the colonel spoke first.
"Kill him."
Three shots spanged off Rasputin's shield before Vlad got his first shot off. Assuming a shield, he shot off center and the force of the bullet twisted the officer and staggered him . . . a flick of movement out of the corner of his eye, Barf throwing something that struck the nearest officer in the neck and dropped him in a flood of red.
A second flick, Lehr ducked. Backed a few steps.
Flashes of light bounced off Lehr's shield.
Vlad switched his attention to the Cyborg soldiers with three more shots, staggering them.
Barf ran forward and scooped up the fallen man's pistol. Fired three shots, probing Lehr's shield, and finding it solid.
Outside the front doors, a shriek of brakes, thuds of impact. Gunfire. Shattering glass.
Colonel Lehr backed a few more steps, with his junior officers, and even with the gunfire, Vlad could hear the troops coming from the corridor on the right. Barf trotted forward to look, "Whole bunch of armored Cyborgs incoming!" He darted in to snatch something off the floor, then retreated, stooping to pull his knife out of the officer's throat in passing.
More running footsteps from the left. The Governor and Chief Naoumov, the soldiers behind them closing fast. Vlad aimed at legs and the first two men tripped and brought down another. An empty click. He dropped his mag, slapped his reserve in.
And Rasputin's voice. "Time to leave!"
Vlad backed away, shot the soldier getting too close to the Governor, then turned to take a look out the front entrance. All the glass was gone, gritting underfoot, a police squad car was sideways, tight up against the steps, Forty-one with a shotgun. Watching a confused melee of Stuttgart Cyborg soldiers and Fast Response Teams.
There was a shield across the far side of the squad car . . . From Forty-one?
Vlad galloped down the stairs, an itch between his shoulder blades . . . He turned and raised his gun, a soldier on the roof twenty feet up . . . Not much showing . . . He aimed at the hand. A scream. The soldier fell back, the gun dropped . . . Vlad grabbed to cushion its fall, holstered his pistol and aimed the rifle up at the roof as Rasputin, Mateev, and Barf joined them.
Barf veered to the far side to shoot a trio of soldiers charging in . . .
Vlad spotted a soldier on his side and started shooting. His fourth shot found a chink in the body armor and the Cyborg curled up screaming.
Beyond him more soldiers rounded the far end of the building. "Lehr's out of the building." Vlad fired off three shots with no effect. Cussed when a soldier trotted up to Lehr with a red box.
Rasputin hissed and stepped up beside him. "Kill switch!" The air temperature dropped and Vlad backed hastily away from the glowing man.
Who sagged suddenly, the glow gone. "Couldn't reach him. Dammit Igor, where are you when I need you?"
Across the plaza, Lehr flipped up a cover and jabbed.
Vlad turned to eye the fight . . . where nothing much had changed.
"Hot Damn." Rasputin staggered over to lean on the squad car. "It didn't work!"
Vlad jerked back into motion. Popped the trunk of the car and brought out the heavy weaponry. Handed one to Rasputin and the other to Forty-one.
Pulled out the air cannon and contemplated the array. "Tear gas, smoke, or flash?"
A gleeful Barf pointed, "Can you hit those AGC's up there? I know they won't do much damage, but there they are, sitting, waiting for orders, with their top hatches open . . ."
"They aren't that accurate, but if you want to try . . ."
He took it with a grin. "Let's try a flash. Not that I suppose it could set off the ammo inside . . . Eight second fuse? Awesome."
He started glowing with power. Primed the chamber, took the grenade, and dropped it down the muzzle, counting as he aimed way high. Pulled the trigger at three.
Set the gun down and held his hands out in a cone, and stared at an AGC, air cooling around him . . . "Six, seven . . . and in she goes."
There might have been a flash of light out the hatch before the AGC leaped into the air, the top shell spinning off while the rest went sideway in pieces that took out the infantry all around it.
Vlad swallowed. "Then again, maybe it was hot enough."
After the final thump of falling debris, Rasputin raised his voice. "Lehr! You may send in medical assistance for your people as soon as you and any soldiers who are still on their feet depart. Do not import any replacements."
The colonel replied with a rude gesture, but the soldiers were retreating, taking their wounded, leaving their dead.
The Fast Response teams had drawn back and now made a line between the soldiers and the squad car.
Vlad stepped over to Forty-one. "Relax, now, I'll keep a shield up." The old Cyborg nodded, and leaned on the car for a moment. Fumbled with the door and collapsed on the seat.
Vlad opened the back door and waved an invitation to the governor. The Chief just stayed sitting on the steps.
Director Rasputin's Executive secretary stood up shakily, and nodded at Barf. "Sir? Can we keep him? He seems like a really useful secretary."
Rasputin snorted. "Mr. Var, I think a more detailed introduction is in order. Who the hell are you?"
Barf straightened and brushed at his sleeve. "I am Mr. Varfolomey House Vinogradov."
Mister meaning servant, and House meaning a bastard, fathered by and born to a servant owned by the lord, of that house.
"Owner Lord Axel Ivan Vinogradov. Who trained me from a rather young age."
"That explains a lot. Do you actually have an Exec plate and how old are you?"
"I do sir." He brushed at his hair to show it. "I received it a year and a half ago, shortly before I turned eighteen."
Rasputin looked over at the debris of the AGC. "You’re nineteen. And would you happen to know where Lord Axel is at the moment?"
And Barf damned well raised his nose and drawled in a high class accent. "M’lord is on a business trip to Stuttgart. He should return in three more days."
"I see. And knowing him, he has planned for difficulties in returning."
"I'm certain of that, sir." Barf bit his lip. "And while one of our portals might happen to be working . . . is there anything else critical that ought to be moved?"
"No . . . we'll be short on food sooner than I'd like, but right now the Stutts need to depend on their own portals . . . if for no other reason than we might be able to figure out if Igor's damaged any of them."
Chapter Forty-nine
Action!
Wednesday, December 18, 3739
Night of the sixth day, and I have this last facility to scout. Then I'll think about how much I can realistically do.
Just driving by on the highway, a glimpse showed a whole lot more lights on at Number Three. Mostly at the Museum end.
I hope they think that was a daring raid to rescue the Merry Widows. Not a scouting trip to check out how to liberate a portalmaker . . . because what idiot scout would care about four women in a holding cell?
Portal Facility Four looked like business as usual. Not much cover on the south side where the trucks were departing, but on the west side, a narrow side street, with a not-really-a-park, just a roughly maintained bank of a concrete lined drainage with some trees sticking up out of the brush where they'd stopped mowing.
A quick slash and levitate, then he backed the car down the slope into the cleared spot and dropped the cut brush on the car
Probably just scratched my paint. He trotted up the slope to the road and walked to the road tha
t paralleled the security fence, and along it to the point closest to the building. Closed his eyes so he could see the density points of pressure plates, the wire loops of circuit detectors . . . half of them not working.
Overconfident, lazy. Not keeping up the maintenance
He mapped a path through all the sensors, backed off to let a car drive past, stayed back to watch two patrol vehicles inside drive by, one each way. Used the time to set his camo to "medium mown grass."
Then he ran and jumped. Levitated. Rolled the landing and held still. No alarm, no under the surface detectors on this side. He trotted for the building spotting doors . . . a blank one over there . . . no outside handles. Well, finally an emergency exit! He leaned to feel for alarms . . . reached a hand up and rested it near the alarm on the other side of the wall . . . reached mentally and bent a few wires. Checked, no one near . . . he pulled out the worker's overalls he'd snagged from the first Portal, and climbed into them. Switched his camo to solid tan, and walked down the hall, heading toward the portal machinery.
Stepped into an empty office and opened his shields to feel for the portalmaker . . . close, good he was on this side of the big bay where the portal actually formed. And as the portal closed, he could feel the effort and mental reach for the next destination, the . . . challenge, the interest in seeing the multiverse . . . the pop of pain to remind the youngster to go to this specific place . . .
This kid's going to get along with Henrik just fine.
:: Who is Henrik? ::
Axel swallowed. :: A free portalist. Finish your shift. We'll talk then. ::
Axel closed his shield tight, and moved away. Found stairs and climbed a level, peeked out, too many people. He dropped down to the basement and found the computers, a chemistry lab . . . A lavatory right under the control room. It looked unused.
Who wants to feel the mental screams of a portalmaker when they're sitting on the toilet?