by Pam Uphoff
"They'll be coming."
"They'd better. Whoever's inside there just slashed right through the concrete—I saw the puff of dust—and collapsed the crane they were using to get to the roof. I think those . . . people are getting pissed. But right now? Everyone's looking at the mess over there."
"Yeah. Umm, if things get . . . noisy . . . you might all want to get several houses away." Axel eyed the last fence. Wood. About a foot away from the wire mesh fence of the fairgrounds. A few trees, unkempt grass, greening up and growing in the late winter sun. He was going to be exposed all the way.
I hope they keep watching the mess. Until I need to get into the same building.
"They got that barbed wire stuff laid out all around." Pudgy Lady sniffed. "At least we haven't seen them putting in . . . laying mines."
I apologize for every bad thought I've ever had about nosey old ladies! Axel closed his eyes and felt for densities. They're right. No mines around the perimeter.
He pulled up the hood of the camos, grimaced and peeled off the wig. Dropped it and pulled the hood up over his head and down over his face.
"Oooohhhh! Red hair! Shaved a few weeks ago! You're HIM!"
Axel nodded. "Yep." He backed off for a running start, jumped and levitated, landed out fifteen feet, rolled into the scant cover of a thin leafless tree, and laid flat to see if he'd been seen.
Nyet.
He crawled to the tree trunk and clicked the camos over to the next setting. The black uniform of the Stuttie guards, the left sleeve patterned with the rods and wires of a cyborg soldier. A metallic ring around his left eye that wouldn't pass from the side, but straight on would work well enough. The hood all "bald scalp" with a Cyborg plate on the right.
He stepped out and marched briskly across what felt like a mile of open space to the nearest building. Across and around to the far side. There was the big music pavilion filled with the clutter of an army base. Flimsy walls of temporary quarters for the officers, some offices, a big field kitchen with folding tables and benches for the soldier's mess. Tents on the other side. He walked across, got behind the officer's quarters and turned to walk along. Just one more Cyborg. Stepping out like he had something to do.
At the far end of the Pavillion, he was opposite the Arts and Crafts building. Could see the double doors on this side.
I wonder how they locked them on the inside?
Snapped orders and a squad of Cyborgs forming up to head around to the far side.
The officer led the way and Axel formed up and followed the others. A solid concrete wall. A very big bulldozer, enclosed cab towering above the scene. Men putting breaching charges on the wall.
Not enough. They want their hostages alive. They'll crack the concrete then use the dozer.
Idiots, that's probably more dangerous than just blowing a small hole in the wall.
On the other hand, a nice big dozer just sitting there, waiting . . .
:: Dina? ::
:: Yes! ::
:: If I create a diversion on the Music Pavillion side, can you guys get out the doors on the other side? ::
:: Maybe. We'll have to slash them, I got too strong with the welding. But there are enough older boys here that Dad can form an octagon, and can probably get them open. ::
:: Can you shield? ::
:: Myself, but not everyone. ::
:: Then sit tight until the rest of the troops arrive. ::
Axel walked over to the bulldozer.
"Hey, you, get back in formation!"
Climbed up to the cab, raising a shield as he opened the cab door.
"What the fuck do you think you're . . . Ah!"
As he hauled the driver out and tossed him.
He closed the door and put the dozer in reverse. Pulled out his phone and hit the "N."
"Tasha, you're going to have to come get the hostages, they can't shield. Arts and Crafts Building, east entrance. Just pack them in one van and get the hell out of here."
"I can bring both vans. Vlad's here, and, well, the whole neighborhood is out on the street volunteering to help."
Axel backed the dozer away from the building. "God! A massive breach with dozens of cars . . . tell them to just zoom around to attract attention, then get out of there! You go first, slash the gate, and you'd better get your shields up!"
He turned the dozer and took aim at the soldiers. Shoved the hood back and clicked the camos to his "uniform" of black with red lightning bolts.
Shields up, lower the blade and hit the throttle. The lasers bounced off his energy shield, then the soldiers bolted out of the way and tried to hit him from the side. Then a turn and straight down the line of the officers' quarters.
The prefab temporary offices were no match for any bulldozer, let alone one of this size.
Most of the officers got out in time. But there were a few death flashes. And then a couple from the far right. Natasha at the back gate.
He swung the dozer around in a wide circle to run down the other side of the Arts and Crafts building. Spotted the two vans leading a crowd of vehicles that were spreading out and . . . chasing Cyborgs.
No! You'll get yourselves killed!
They didn't seem to care, roaring around in big circles and raising dust.
He plowed down to the truck that something had fallen on—a crane perhaps? Had to back up to go around it, then onward . . . not that he could catch the fleeing men . . . A car pulled past the end of the building just as he got there . . . Big, black, Stuttie crest . . . He couldn't see who was in it as the dozer blade hit it but he felt the officer's anger change to alarm, so he kept going, shoving it under the pavilion and on across it, through the field kitchen, water spraying as he plowed through pipes . . . then a steep drop . . . the car and assorted debris tumbled down the hill.
He backed around and went to see if the hostage rescue was working . . . Cyborgs turned to shoot at him, the laser splatting on his shield, then ceasing as the Cyborgs ran out of power.
Did someone cut the broadcast power? That would explain a lot . . .
A huge wallowing sedan accelerated toward them. He couldn't see the driver . . . or was that gray hair in a bun sticking up over the steering wheel?
The Cyborgs spotted her coming too late. They scattered, but one flew into the air, and he heard a faint cackle. "Got you!"
"Oh. My. God." Axel turned to run along the building and caught a glimpse of the vans, hard shields covering the area as people climbed in.
A Cyborg running at them . . . or away from a zippy red sports car.
"I see you, you Cyborg bastard!" A dull thud and the Cyborg flew completely over the car. "That's three!"
Another Granny zipped past the dozer, wild hair flying. The car turned suddenly as she spotted Cyborgs and headed straight for them. If the Cyborgs were firing their lasers . . . could they even see the undersized driver hunched down? He could see the steam from the punctured radiator, but that wasn't going to stop the car soon enough.
A rusty old truck was hot on her bumper and split to the side to get all the soldiers who were giving up on shooting at them and running for their lives.
Axel waved at the vans and headed for the back gate . . . more cars zipping around, gray-hairs or baldies, they all seemed to be determined to rack up their score of Cyborgs . . . there were two cars, obviously wrecked . . . Dammit, but . . .
The vans roared past him and through the back gate. He turned again, and headed for the front gates.
Must be something else worth crushing around here somewhere . . . He spotted activity around . . . whatever the hell building that one was . . . Cyborgs were shoving at recalcitrant sliding doors, size extra large . . .
Is that where their portal beacon is located?
He turned the dozer and headed for the building. If I can crush their beacon before Stuttgart opens to them . . .
Too late! He could see the flickering light, typical of the lightning wreath of the portal. He turned to drive across the big op
ening. Pulled power. Abandoned the controls to open the door. Shielded hard and spotted the tank on Stuttgart charging up the ramp and into the portal. Three thin openings in his shield, three hard, angled, slashes through them, eyes squeezed shut . . . multiple impacts on his shield, slamming it back to rock the dozer, then he was blinking watering eyes and looking around for something else to destroy . . .
Behind some berms, muzzles of big guns showing . . .
He raised the blade about five feet and took off the top third of the berm as the treads caught and shoved the dirt into the gun pit, careened down to clip the gun breech and twist it, then up and over to see if he could do it again.
His phone rang. Rory, yelling. "Pauli's going to blow them up! Get out of the WAY!!!!"
Axel hauled the left tread into reverse, for a slewing turn, then both forward. :: THIS IS IGOR! ALL CIVILIANS RUN LIKE HELL! THINGS ARE GOING TO BLOW UP! ::
Then he pulled up a broadcast impression, shoved power into it, opened the door of the dozer and yelled it out loud.
The miscellany of vehicles turned and headed for the back gate . . . detouring only to run down a few last Cyborgs. The poor things weren't even trying to shoot back . . .
He toughened up the shields behind him. "I've got shields up, fire at will, Pauli."
He pulled around on to the crest of a small decorative rise to watch the fireworks and watch for signs of organization . . . but as the debris stopped falling, the only coordinated activity was the Cyborgs in blue police uniforms driving up and looking around at the chaos.
An aircar zipped around, then landed close to the mostly demolished building that had once housed their beacon.
:: Why we even bother rushing to your aid . . . now that the broadcast power is back on . . . and if you or these "Rangers" of yours turned it off the Boss is going to speak to you. ::
Oh Dear God, did Pauli do that?
:: Well, I never spotted Lehr. You might check for pieces of him . . . but since I'm still technically a dangerous and insane fugitive, I'll take myself off to avoid any unfortunate incidents. ::
He got mental laughter in return. :: Technically? ::
Axel turned off the dozer and gave it a fond pat, before he headed for the back fence.
Where he found his gleeful fan club.
"Recorded it all!" The old guy on the balcony crowed.
The women forced drink and food on him and kept hugging him.
And asking if he was married, they all had granddaughters, nieces . . .
He finally made it back to his car and headed for the warehouse.
Called Var.
"What's happening Up Top?"
"Well, Colonel Lehr started recalling his AGCs when something happened at the fairgrounds, so we fired the rail gun . . ."
"Good God! Not Doctor Mikhailov's monster!"
". . . which worked really well, once. Then the colonel made some nasty threats about how his people were already on the way to grab the Director's family and we said 'Oh you mean the fellows our sniper took out from over a mile away?' and he sort of started hissing things about missiles, so I talked to Pauli and he said he could blow them up as soon as you stopped playing with a bulldozer . . ."
"And then he did. Have you heard from Natasha?"
"Yep. She's got all the hostages except a girl they took away a few days ago and never brought back. Took them to Vinogradov House, to feed them all and wait for news about whether it was safe to go to their homes, or not."
"Well . . . Right. Guess I'll go there myself. Any word on Colonel Lehr's whereabouts?"
"Yeah. Murphy's got him. A little the worse for wear." Snicker. "Between being rolled in his car down a hill and then having the portal blow up just before he got there . . . while he was on the phone making threats." A pause. "The Director will meet you at Vinogradov House."
Chapter Fifty-five
The Hostess with the Mostest
December 21, 3739
Natasha shook her head. "No. Think! You helped rescue the hostages the Evil Stuttgartians were holding. After his Lordship's treason, you need all the good deeds you can possibly gather. Three Councilmen's families, the Governor's, the Chief of Police's, and Lord Axel's girlfriend and her parents."
Anastaciya smiled, a little glassy-eyed. "Six good credits. Right . . . so why haven't we ever met this girlfriend?"
Veronika snorted. "Because Lord Vladimir would have crushed them. Axel wouldn't ever give that man a handle. Ever."
Anastaciya winced. "Oh. Of course."
Behind them, Andre and Nikoli exchanged glances and nods.
Veronika glanced over her shoulder. "It would be nice if our husbands had half the restraint."
The hostages had come close to filling up the formal dining room, where the swarms of servants had descended on them, bringing hot towels, hot soup, sandwiches, drinks, and then showers and changes of clothes . . . Half of them were split between the parlors now, most of the little kids asleep.
Natasha looked around as the front door opened for Governor Berezin. She nudged Veronika and pointed. "Help the Governor get his family out of here and home to safety."
Veronika jolted into action and hustled to help. Anastaciya trailed . . . and met Councilman Meknikov as he rushed through the door.
She listened in as Governor Berezin hugged his wife and the two children. "No, no, Yeli's in the hospital, one of those people actually had the compassion and the nerve to sneak her out . . . after. But she's badly traumatized."
Natasha looked around as a man stepped closer. Director Rasputin.
The governor turned his head, and met the director's gaze. "They called me. Sent the live stream of . . . what they were doing to Yeli and said they'd do the same to Anya . . . I gave them the kill switch."
"I didn't know you had one."
Shrug, "It had been in the office safe for decades; I don't know why anyone thought the governor back then needed it."
Rasputin nodded. "The protocol for the switches is changed, occasionally."
"So nothing happened, thank god." His grip tightened.
Vlad was still hovering over his parents, but his sister twisted around and bolted out the front doors to tackle Axel as he stepped out of his car.
Of all the women I ever thought would be worthy of him . . . An enthusiastic bookworm never occurred to me.
She smiled and walked out to report. Spotted the movement across the driveway, the black uniforms . . .
She'd shot three of them before consciously identifying the threat, drew her left hand gun and shot the guy behind her . . . as her brain caught up with her instincts.
She gulped. "I . . . really hope those were bad guys."
An incredulous laugh behind her. Vlad rolled the last fellow over. "A Stuttie officer . . . with a couple of grenades on his belt. And I swear you didn't even look that way."
A snort from Axel, as he lowered his hands, glow fading. "I told you to trust your instincts. Your mentalist talent—working at a subconscious level—knew they were here to kill. But only from about twenty feet. We'll work on that. And I do hope that was their last shot. We need to send what's left of their army home. And hope they stay there."
Dina rose on her toes to peer across the car at the three bodies on the other side. "Stuttgart uniforms. Officers. They have grenades too. I think I need to learn to shoot."
Natasha nodded. "If you're going to hang around Axel, definitely."
The Director was just shaking his head. "How many of these Rangers do you have, Axel?"
"Four. And some even younger trainees. You can't steal them until they're grown up."
"Want to bet?"
Bonus Scene # 1
"This is Ivan Ivanov, live at Vinogradov House, where the hostages were brought after their incredible escape!
"Despite the Fast Response Teams still claiming that Igor is a totally fictional mascot, I was able to get a brief interview with Councilman Zhabin as he escorted his rescued family out of Vinogradov House."
"Thank God for Igor! Those filthy Stutts dragged one hostage off and never brought her back. Poor girl! But Igor and the Citizens of the City rescued the rest."
"Councilman! How did you vote . . ."
"I voted against letting them in the first place, and to kick them out after my worst fears were realized . . . well, then they took my family and I found a whole new level of fear, as I got a call telling me I'd better think hard before the next vote! We should just kill all the prisoners, and to hell with human rights! They didn't respect ours!" He nodded and followed his family into the limo.
"This is Ivan Ivanov, reporting from Vinogradov house. Back to you, Artemy."
Artemy Gusev put on his grim look. "The Authorities have not released the name of the missing hostage, but all the rescued hostages have been checked by medics and apart from bad food, a bit of dehydration, and a bad scare, the terror reign of the Stuttgardian Army appears to be over."
"In other news," Darya Antonov, the sole female deemed to look authoritative enough to be allowed on screen, took a turn, "the citywide loss of broadcast power that turned the streets into a parking lot for nearly an hour is still unexplained. City Works Manager Volya Baranov says his crews have found no explanation . . . and Up Top . . . Director Rasputin claims the firing of an experimental railgun that destroyed eight Armored Gun Carriers with a single shot could not possibly be connected."
Gusev jumped back in. "But in lighter news, the victory party of the group of retirees calling themselves Igor's Volunteers has spread out over the whole ten block 'senior community' area," the news reporter was trying to be blasé about it, but a bit of bogglement was showing through, "And while several cars were destroyed, and the drivers injured, these old folks aren't letting a few laser burns stop the celebration. And let me tell you, those old folk sure know how to party!"
Bonus Scene # 2