That earned me another hug.
“Did you learn anything?”
“More, and less than I wanted to know.”
“We need to alert Shepherd and the rest of the team and put together a rescue.”
“Already on it,” said my phone. “Shepherd, Martin, Mimi, and the Obi-Yu siblings have been contacted.”
“What about Terrhi and her bodyguards?” I asked.
“Them, too,” said my phone.
“Crap,” I said. “That means a hundred and fifty Dauushan Royal Drop Marines could be coming in from orbit, ready to rescue their queen.”
“How is that a problem?” asked Poly.
“Dauushan Drop Marines are not a subtle, surgical strike force. If they come crashing into the power station searching for Queen Sherrhi with blood in their eyes, I’m afraid there will be a lot of collateral damage. I don’t want Roger Joe-Bob, Dr. Obi, Dr. Yu, or any of the other CEO-types getting shot, incinerated or stepped on.”
“Good point,” said Poly.
“We also have no details about what defensive forces EUA Corporation has on call, if any,” I said. “They could have a dozen pods of giant krakens armed with pulse cannons just under the surface of Lake Mead, for all we know.”
“Another good point,” said Poly. “Though the scenario you mentioned seems unlikely.”
“Not really,” I quipped. “Krakens are always well armed.”
Poly grimaced to appreciate the pun, then smiled at me affectionately. I was glad we were in this together. She continued.
“Along those lines, we have no idea what The General’s contingency plans might be if the kidnapped bigwigs are discovered, right?”
Poly took a breath and looked at me before speaking.
“So what do we do now?”
“Great question,” I said, wondering how we’d ever come up with an answer.
Chapter 32
“I knew I shouldda made a left toin at Albukoykee…”
— Bugs Bunny
“First,” I said, “we need to get out of this dam place and reconnect with the rest of the team.”
“What’s the fastest way out of here?” Poly asked my phone.
“The observation window at the end of the corridor, if you’ve got something to cut steel bars,” it answered.
“Quit sounding like Microsoft tech support by giving an accurate but useless answer.”
“Sorry,” said my phone. “There’s an elevator two hundred feet from here that will take you to the visitor’s center at the top of the dam.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Was that so hard?”
“No. Message received. Skip the whimsy and stick to practical, concrete answers,” it said.
“Especially regarding the dam,” I replied.
My phone made a rude noise and directed us to the elevator. A few seconds and several hundred feet of increased elevation later, Poly and I were in the lobby of the visitor’s center. At this hour, it was dark and deserted. With my phone’s assistance we made it through the standard glass doors and the external security checkpoint made of rotating metal bars. It was nice to be out in the fresh air again. I was surprised that there weren’t any security guards or state police around, but chalked that up to federal budget cuts or EUA’s far from benign influence.
“When will the others get here?” asked Poly.
I looked down over the edge of the dam and saw our small rental dirigible still tied up above the mothballed Nevada-side power station. While our attention was focused below, my phone extended a long pseudopod with an arrow on the end pointing up. Poly and I looked. Above our heads was a huge advertising blimp from DOW Jones Fox Corp. It was just sailing in from the northwest, displaying a giant chart with lines showing the rise and fall of the Dow Jones Industrial Average and other key tracking indices in millions of tiny LEDS on the side of its gasbag.
“What’s the airship?” I asked.
“The Graph Zeppelin,” it answered.
“Ouch,” said Poly. “Ten points for your phone.”
“It’s just a flesh wound,” I said. “Friend or foe?”
“Not friend, friends,” said my phone. “Chit let everyone know that Cornell was headed to Hoover Dam, so they commandeered the Graph from a friend of the Obi-Yu siblings and headed this way.”
“Everybody’s on board?” asked Poly. “Including Terrhi and Spike?”
“The latest update from Shepherd indicated that everyone is present, including the princess and her pet,” said my phone, “except for Mimi.”
“Terrhi’s bodyguards are okay with that?” I said.
“Terrhi’s bodyguards will be here shortly with The Matriarch of the Skies,” said my phone.
That meant things would be getting even more out of hand. The Matriarch was armed and its gondola was sovereign Dauushan soil. My understanding was that Queen Sherrhi always traveled with the Sky Mum so she could “remain above the fray” if any conflict broke out. The big blimp had been under repair earlier, back in Atlanta, after a forklift accident when the dirigible was being unloaded at Hartsfield Port. The arms of a forklift had gone through twenty-eight layers of folded gasbag and the forklift operator was lucky he’d only lost his job instead of facing her Matriarchal Majesty’s imperial wrath.
“Let’s connect with everybody on the Graph and figure out what to do next,” I said.
As I spoke, the glowing zeppelin descended until its gondola was even with the top of the dam near the visitor’s center. A ramp extended and Poly and I walked up it, earning a welcoming hug from Terrhi and head-butt from Spike. The hugs from Nettie and Lizzie were even nicer. A.J. and I traded fist bumps. Shepherd, Martin and I just looked at each other and nodded manfully. The Graph rose a few hundred feet while Poly and I gave everyone a summary of what we’d seen and heard in the power generation station.
“Are my mom and dad and Uncle Diágo down there?” piped Terrhi, who was looking out a window toward the base of the dam.
“Yes,” I said, “in a big building on the Nevada side of the river. Everybody inside has been drugged. They’re all mesmerized into obeying their kidnappers.”
“My mommy’s Royal Drop Marines will save them!” she said.
“I’m worried they might hurt people if they land on the roof and break in,” I told her. “Aunt Poly and I think it might be better if we figure out a safer way to get them and everybody else out. You don’t want Nettie and Lizzie and A.J.’s mom and dad or Roger Joe-Bob Bacon getting hurt, do you?”
The Shetland pony-sized little girl shook her head.
“No. No. I don’t want that at all,” she said, looking at the Obi-Yu sibs. “That would be really bad. But…”
“But?” asked Poly.
“They’re already on their way down from orbit,” said Terrhi.
“I was afraid of that,” I said. “Can Lohrri or Naddéo stop them?”
“I don’t think so, Uncle Jack,” she said, sounding worried. “Drop Marines are really hard to stop once they get started.”
“How much time do we have?” I asked my phone.
“About ten minutes, based on atmospheric drag in the troposphere.”
“Ideas, anybody?” asked Poly. She was looking at Nettie.
“Did we sell the Dauushan military their new Galactic Positioning System hardware?” Nettie asked her sister.
“Last year,” replied her Lizzie. “With special features for their elite units.”
“Perfect,” said Nettie. “A.J., can you take care of things or do I have to handle it?”
“Reprogramming now,” said her brother. “Retargeting them northwest half a mile.”
“That’s in Lake Mead,” said Martin.
“Can Dauushans swim?” asked Poly, furrowing her eyebrows as if tr
ying to remember.
“They’re a lot better at wading,” said Shepherd, “but I remember Diágo mentioning new features in the Drop Marines’ armor designed for amphibious operations that should make things quite interesting.”
Given the grizzled Long Pâkk’s previous definitions of interesting, I wasn’t sure if I was intrigued or terrified.
“That should buy us more time,” I said.
“Uncle Jack,” said Terrhi, tugging me over to look out one of the gondola’s windows. “I don’t think we have any time after all.”
Glowing pink dots were descending from the northeastern sky.
“Crap,” I said. “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.”
“Cut the crap, Jack,” said Poly. “Let’s get everybody out of the power station before anybody gets hurt.”
My brain was spinning, trying to figure out a plan of action, but my attention remained focused on the pink lights, like a moth fixated on the headlights on an interstate. I have vague kinetic memories of Poly and Terrhi nudging me, but my attention was not diverted from the descending Drop Marines until I saw more pink lights approaching from the northwest—the Matriarch of the Skies. The huge dirigible was approaching at high speed. Within seconds it had reached our vicinity and took up a station above the Lake Mead marina.
Eight giant congruency-powered floodlights mounted on the flanks of the Sky Mum’s gondola snapped on, illuminating the surface of the lake and surrounding shore. In their reflection I could see that the dirigible’s gasbag was made from a bright Dauushan-pink fabric, in contrast to the shimmering silver of the Graph Zeppelin’s envelope.
“They’re hailing us,” said Nettie, standing at the communications console. “Lohrri wants to know where Queen Sherrhi is.”
“Tell her we’re about to stage a rescue,” I said. “Give us half an hour and Queen Sherrhi will be safe.”
“She says we’ve got until the marines land. Or else.”
I didn’t want to speculate about what the or else might entail. It would just depress me.
The Royal Drop Marines were now close enough that I could make out details. Each African bull elephant-sized adult Dauushan hung suspended from a wedge-shaped pink hang glider. I think they’d doubled as heat shields for reentry. The marines were covered from tails to trunks in heavy pink metallic battle armor and had dozens of weapons slung across their bodies or strapped to their limbs. Over a hundred and fifty wedges were drifting down to the surface of the lake.
The first of the marines was about to hit the water. I knew that Dauushans loved mud wallows and enjoyed playing in streams and shallow ponds, but I couldn’t see how Dauushan marines in full combat gear could manage in ninety feet of liquid, well out from shore. I was reminded of Poly’s question from earlier.
Can Dauushans swim?
It looked like we were about to find out.
“Jack,” said Poly. “Time to go, Jack.”
My phone was also buzzing insistently, but I couldn’t turn my head away.
A marine struck the water and immediately sank out of sight. Five others in the initial wave did the same. I hoped the Matriarch of the Skies had the ropes and winches needed to rescue them. It turned out I didn’t need to worry.
Seconds after they hit and went under, all six marines bobbed back to the surface, their combat armor transformed from intimidating to ludicrous. Inflatable compartments had triggered, like enormous air bags, turning the marines into giant pink floating marshmallows. They bobbed up and down like so many fishing floats. I tried to suppress a chortle, without much success. Terrhi was next to me, laughing her little girl high pitched giggles.
“Uncle Jack,” said Terrhi, tugging at my sleeve.
“Not now,” I said. “I want to make sure they’re safe.”
Wave after wave of Drop Marines hit the water and puffed up. Several were maneuvering their parasail wedges, linking them together and triggering air bags underneath them to create an artificial island. I relaxed, realizing that the hundred and fifty Royal troops would be fine and it was time for me to get the Queen, her entourage, and the other bigwigs out of the power station before the marines got better organized. A wolf howled in the distance, but I barely noticed. Shepherd?
Then things really got crazy. The opposition did have defenders in place. Instead of dozens of pods of giant krakens with pulse cannons, eight Nautilus-style submarines rose from the lake, surrounding the Dauushan marines. The sides of the submersibles were dotted with rows of metallic hemispheres that detached, grew three long legs, and became tall Martian tripods extending at least forty feet above the surface of the lake. Maybe I didn’t want any souvenirs from Verne Wells & Company after all?
“Are they…?” I asked
“Verne Wells is an EUA Company,” it answered.
I just shook my head back and forth. Of course they were.
I felt something press against my knees, but couldn’t spare any attention for it.
The submarines started to maneuver and reconfigure themselves. Heavy weapons now bristled on their decks as they formed an octagonal perimeter around the Dauushan marines. Towering tripods kicked the royal troops into the center like strikers guiding so many fluorescent pink soccer balls. Heat rays from the tripods boiled the water around the floating marines, discouraging them from escaping.
The marines weren’t passively accepting their fate. They shot high-powered explosive rounds at the hemispheres atop several tripods, destroying five, and took down three more using plasma torches to cut off their legs, but on the whole, the Dauushans were losing. I was sure the results would be different if the Royal Drop Marines had been on solid ground, but working from water had them at a disadvantage.
Projectile weapons on the submarines’ decks were shooting holes in the Dauushans’ artificial island and personal pink air bags, while Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor and other organ classics were playing on supersized speakers attached to the subs’ conning towers. I wondered if The General was as mad as Captain Nemo? Odds were good.
Queen Sherrhi’s elite combat detachment was slowly sinking into Lake Mead. They were going down with style, but they were going down—though it seemed like the process would take a while. It was past time for me to strategize with Poly and rescue the kidnap victims.
I looked around. Terrhi was still tugging at my sleeve. The two of us—and Spike—were the only ones on the Graph. I reached for my phone. It was gone, too.
“Where is everybody?” I asked Terrhi.
“They went to rescue my mom and dad.”
That explained why Poly and Terrhi had been trying to get my attention. Spike was the likely reason I’d felt something big press against the back of my knees. Sometimes I wondered if I shouldn’t change my name from Buckston to Oblivious?
“Did they say anything about their plan?” I asked.
“Just that they were getting your little blimp to take them down there,” said Terrhi.
“But it was tied up to the power station building.”
“Your phone had a good idea after watching the Drop Marines descend. It turned its mutacase into a hang glider and rode the air currents in front of the dam down to the power station,” she said. “It untied your rented blimp and brought it back to the Graph.”
Terrhi smiled at me and dimpled, which is not easy for a Dauushan. Spike sat on his haunches, looking at me reproachfully.
“I have a video on my phone, if you want to see it. My camera is great in low light.”
“That’s okay, I believe you,” I said. “Martin and Shepherd and Poly and the Obi-Yu siblings are down there now?”
“Uh huh,” said Terrhi. “They went down in your rental.”
“Why didn’t they just fly down in the Graph?”
“Poly said they wanted me to be safe,” said Terrhi. �
��But if you’re going down to the power station, let’s just go. I want to come help.”
“Poly is a wise person,” I said. “Keeping my friend Terrhi and the Princess of Dauush safe is important, right Spike?”
The big tri-sabertooth yawned, showing off his namesake incisors, then nodded.
“That’s settled, then. I’ll have to find another way down.” Using my gecko gloves would take too long and I didn’t have anywhere near enough rope in my backpack tool bag to rappel down.
I didn’t want to bring the Graph too close to the dam in case the EUA forces sent a few tripods in this direction, but I was able to program the zeppelin’s rudimentary autopilot to do a dip and rise, then reestablish hovering in its current location. That would get me to the top of the dam, but it wouldn’t get me to the power station at the bottom. Without the mutakey in my phone, I’d never be able to open the doors to the visitors’ center or control the elevator. I needed another idea.
I knew if I thought about it hard enough, I’d fall into something.
Chapter 33
“Watch out for that first step, it’s a doozy.”
– Stephen Tobolowsky
Spike stretched. I watched him press his shoulders against something that looked like a coil of wire three feet across and a little more than four feet tall. He rubbed his fur on the coils while the stack of wire leaned away from him.
“Spike! Stop playing with my Slinky!” said Terrhi.
I’d had one of the toys when I was a kid, but hadn’t realized what the scale would be on a Dauushan-sized model. It gave me an idea. I tried climbing inside the coils and found it was just wide enough for me to curl myself up inside. If this worked, I’d be in for a wild ride. If I’d had my phone I would have asked it to calculate the slope of the dam, but given current circumstances, I’d just have to wing it.
Xenotech What Happens: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 3) Page 26