When my programmed dip in the zeppelin’s altitude brought me close to the top of the dam, I had Terrhi push the Slinky out with me inside it. It hit the smooth face of the concrete cliff and I threw my body against one side to start the giant spring’s oscillation. Murphy must have been out having coffee because the Slinky performed flawlessly, executing more than a dozen perfect flips walking down the side of the dam. I heard someone screaming—it was probably me—but ignored it. I arrived at the bottom on the roof of the Nevada power generation building with confused inner ears and bruised muscles, but wasn’t much the worse for wear.
I carefully untangled myself from the coils of flattened wire and made my way to the skylight in the roof that my phone had unlocked earlier. When I lifted it up to check below, I couldn’t believe what I saw—again. Shepherd, Martin, Poly and the Obi-Yu siblings were engaged in battle with the black and white garbed servers. CEO-types were milling around randomly, acting as obstacles for both sides.
The server-thugs outnumbered the good guys by four or five to one. From my vantage point on the roof I could see that most of the servers had their mini-sweeteners out. They were crouching behind the buffet and drinks tables, letting the roasts and punch bowls and ice sculptures protect them. Lizzie and A.J. were holding metal folding chairs in front of them like shields, blocking shots from sweeteners and advancing on the buffet line throwing silverware missiles. Martin was tossing highball glasses and champagne flutes at the servers’ heads, distracting their aim. He was bobbing and weaving around the CEOs, using them for cover. Shepherd was prone on Tomáso’s broad back, using his friend’s bulk to block servers’ attacks. The Pâkk took advantage of his elevated position, using a confiscated mini-sweetener to pick off servers who couldn’t think in three dimensions.
From time to time, I’d hear server-thugs scream and see them jump. They’d drop their mini-sweeteners and come back down clutching one of their feet in apparent agony. It took me a moment to realize my phone was also doing its part—with hotfoots.
Poly and Nettie were in among the CEOs, scanning the crowd. My bet was they were looking for Josephine Johnson and Scott Winfield. That pair had been on the raised platform the last time I’d seen them, but could be anywhere now. I knew Poly and Nettie could take care of themselves, so I took a second look at the situation inside the power generation station and figured out my best course of action for evening the odds. The good guys were making slow progress and avoiding injury, but there were still a lot more thugs to deal with.
I pulled the Dauushan Slinky over to the open skylight and fastened one coil of it securely around the hinges. Then I wrapped the other end of the Slinky around my waist, pulled my mini-sweetener, and jumped. My body fell at a slight angle. I nearly hit the floor and used my legs against its surface to give me more of a circular motion as the giant spring contracted, pulling me up and around the room. Every time my arc took me close to the goons at the buffet, I sprayed them with my mini-sweetener. Dozens of them went down. Between my wholesale attack and the rest of the team picking enemies off one by one, the server-thugs soon realized that they were outnumbered. The uninjured individuals surrendered—ones that hadn’t been frozen by Shepherd, bruised by Martin’s missiles, or pierced Lizzie and A.J.’s flying forks. They dropped their weapons and put their hands in the air. My phone collected the abandoned mini-sweeteners and distributed them to other members of our party.
I looked around for Poly and Nettie on my up-swings and couldn’t see them—but I did hear the sound of fists hitting flesh behind the raised platform. I timed my swing and detached myself from the Slinky just as I rotated close to the platform. I wasn’t that high off the ground and managed to run a few steps to soak up some momentum so I didn’t fall off the back. As I teetered on the edge, I saw Poly trading blows with Scott Winfield and Nettie grappling with Josephine Johnson. Winfield had ninety-five pounds on Poly, but he was slow. She was landing slices with the edges of her hands on the sides of his neck, trying to disrupt the flow of blood to his brain. Most of his punches went past Poly as she twisted and turned. Few landed solidly.
Johnson and Nettie were both tall. Their reach was even, but Nettie was younger and had more muscle. Nettie slowly levered Johnson’s body down, her shoulders straining. Then Johnson stopped resisting and bent forward, leaving Nettie off balance. Johnson snapped her head back up, catching the point of Nettie’s chin with the back of her skull. Nettie’s bell had been rung and she shook her head gently from side to side to try and dispel the fog. Josephine Johnson moved toward Scott Winfield.
Poly had aimed a kick at Winfield’s groin, but he’d bent low and her foot hit his ample stomach instead. She recovered quickly and stood up, three feet away from her opponent. I was trying to figure out where, when and if to intervene, when matters were taken out of my hands. Winfield pulled a traditional slug-throwing gun out of his jacket and pointed it at Poly and Nettie. The plywood on the platform must have creaked as I shifted my weight before jumping down on Winfield, because he saw me out of the corner of his eye, flicked his gun in my direction, and pulled the trigger. It hit me in the torso but didn’t hurt—much. Thank you bulletproof Orishen pupa silk shirt.
The gunshot did knock me off my feet, however. I went down and stayed down for a minute. When I got up and looked back over the edge of the low platform, I saw Poly and Nettie on the floor. Their wrists were bound together with a red, white and blue scarf. Johnson and Winfield were gone.
“It’s about time you got here,” said Poly.
“A little help, please?” added Nettie.
“Sorry for the late arrival.”
I eased myself down from the platform and untied them. When she stood up, Poly gave me a peck on the cheek and a quick “Thanks!” Nettie, on the other hand, was showing off a vocabulary she must have learned from an eighteenth century sailor—with gout. We walked out from behind the platform and learned that everyone else in our crew had been busy dealing with our newly captive server-thugs. Nobody had seen the Chapultepec & Castle executives or where they’d gone.
“I don’t think they’ll be easy to find,” I said, “especially in the dark.”
“You’re probably right,” said Poly. “I had him, too, before he pulled that gun.”
Nettie just rubbed her chin and muttered more sailors’ vocabulary.
Martin and Shepherd had taken charge of our captives, tying them up with linen napkins and tablecloths. They were lining the bound servers up against the wall behind the buffet tables for future processing.
At the far end of the power generation room, I heard the unmistakable clanking whir of a roll-up door opening. Then I felt cool air. Lizzie and A.J. were organizing the CEOs and other dignitaries. They were slowly herding the business leaders through the large door and onto the broad, flat space that had been the staging area for bringing large equipment in and out. Soon, the human-sized bigwigs were in one large clump, while Queen Sherrhi, Tomáso and Diágo were off to the side with a couple of Tōdon executives. I saw Lizzie and A.J. embrace their parents and George. Nettie left us and rushed over to join them. Bits of their overheard conversation confirmed the rescued captives’ uncharacteristic suggestibility. I hoped A.J. didn’t try to take advantage of his parents’ condition. Roger Joe-Bob Bacon was bustling back and forth between clumps of movers and shakers like some sort of pyramidal humming bird hunting for nectar.
When Poly and I stepped outside, I saw that our rental blimp was overhead, tied off by the bungee cord to a water pipe. It felt like we were back where we’d started when we’d infiltrated the power generation station earlier in the evening—except the “festivities” had moved outside. I looked back through the large open door and saw the giant Slinky dangling from the skylight.
It had been fun springing into action.
Chapter 34
“It was easy to make fun of the marines
&nbs
p; when they weren’t listening.”
— James S. A. Corey
Now it was time to make sure everyone was okay, so Poly and I walked over to check on the Dauushans. Tomáso was closest.
“Hi, big guy,” I said. “Terrhi will be thrilled to have you back.”
“I hope she is doing well,” rumbled Tomáso. “I’m sorry I left in such a hurry, but I’m sure she understands. Defending our galaxy from The Scourge must be our highest priority.”
“Absolutely,” I said.
Now was not the time to try to deprogram a nine-ton alien. Queen Sherrhi and Diágo seemed physically fine, so we skipped finding out their thoughts about The Scourge.
We did a quick pass around the clump of human execs and didn’t see any injuries except for a sweetened arm, leg or chest here and there. I’m glad no one had been seriously injured. I doubted a battle had been part of EUA’s plans for the evening.
I gave Poly a hug and apologized for being so distracted earlier.
“You were like a mongoose staring at a cobra,” she said, “afraid to look away in case something bad happened.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’d never seen a Dauushan amphibious landing before.”
“Things are in good shape down here,” said Poly. “What’s happening topside?”
She waved behind her toward the top of the dam.
“When did you leave?” I asked.
“When the first Drop Marines turned into marshmallows.”
“Right,” I said. “So you missed the Jules Verne submarines and H. G. Wells’ Martian tripods?”
“You’re kidding? Sounds like I left too soon.”
“Eight full-sized subs and dozens of tripods, just like the Verne Wells & Company models we saw at GALTEX. When I left they were mopping up the marshmallows.”
“EUA?”
“Verne Wells is a wholly owned subsidiary. And the Matriarch of the Skies is floating just northwest of the dam.”
“That’s good news,” said Poly. “I wasn’t sure how we were going to get the Dauushans and Tōdons and the CEOs back to town. Do you think they’d have room?”
“The Matriarch of the Skies is only slightly smaller than Rhode Island,” I said. “With congruency-powered turbine assist it could probably raise the Titanic. The gondola looks big enough to hold a Quidditch pitch.”
“If you’re not exaggerating—much—that sounds perfect,” said Poly. “We’ve got to get these bigwigs an antidote for Vonaduzit before they sign over all their companies’ intellectual property to EUA and start building weapons systems to fight The Scourge—which I’m sure EUA will use for its own ends.”
“Where can we take them to get treatment?” I asked.
Shepherd almost magically appeared at my shoulder. He made a habit of popping up and knowing what I’d been saying.
“We can drop them off at Nellis Air Force Base northeast of Las Vegas,” he said. “I have contacts in their Intelligence unit. There’s a large hospital on base with an isolation wing and empty hangars nearby where we can set up quarters for the Dauushans and Tōdons.”
“Great,” I said. “Were you able to confirm that invasion fleet we saw was a fake?”
Poly answered instead of Shepherd.
“We’re a hundred percent sure. Your phone contacted the rendering cluster controller at ILM-Weta and confirmed it. The sequence is from the upcoming Galactic Patrol movie.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “One less thing to worry about. Have you seen my phone, by the way?”
That must have been a cue because my phone picked that moment to slide down the bungee cord from our rented blimp. It scuttled over to me and jumped up into my outstretched hand.
“Jack, Terrhi’s on the line and she sounds frantic.”
“Put her on.”
“Uncle Jack,” said Terrhi in a small, frightened voice, “Momma’s marines look like they’re in big trouble. Can you help?”
What other sort of trouble could elephant-sized Dauushans be in, I wondered?
“Is that my girl?” asked Queen Sherrhi from nearby. Dauushans have large ears and acute hearing.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said.
“Tell her The Scourge is coming and we have to mobilize our planets to prepare.”
“Mom?” asked Terrhi.
Then my phone turned off its speaker. I put it to my ear.
“Your mom’s not herself right now,” I said. “Poly and I are on our way.”
“Okay,” said my young friend. “Hurry.”
“Will do,” I said. “See you soon.”
I ended the call and ran over to the bungee cord, then positioned my hands to begin to climb.
“Jack,” said Poly and my phone simultaneously. They continued in unison but the result was a jumble.
“One at a time, please.”
“We overloaded the four-seater rental blimp transporting six people,” said Poly.
“Both of its turbines are in auto-maintenance cycles now,” said my phone. “They won’t be back in service for an hour.”
“Drat,” I said. “It would take too long to make our way back going inside the dam and taking the elevator.”
“How did you get down?” asked Poly. “Maybe we could try that mode of transportation?”
“Trust me,” I said, “it was a one way trip.”
“How did…”
“It was just something that sprang to mind,” I said. “I’ll tell you the details later.”
“Can Terrhi come down and get us in the Graph?” Poly asked.
“She’s not a pilot and the autopilot is pretty dim-witted,” I said. “Maybe if my phone tries to override it?”
“Aircraft detected coming in from the south,” said my phone. “Fast and hot.”
I spent a few seconds worrying, then recognized the Horus One. Given the circumstances, I should probably refer to it as the Screaming Mimi, since I had a pretty good guess who was at the controls. The plane made a close approach and hovered just above our end of the power generation building.
“Incoming communication from the aircraft,” said my phone.
“Put her through,” I said.
“Jack? Poly?” asked Mimi. “How’s my Honey Bear?”
“Not so good,” said Poly. “He’s been drugged, but is otherwise unharmed. We’re taking everyone to Nellis AFB for treatment.”
“That’s a darned shame,” said Mimi. “Wait until I catch the son of a…”
“Hang on a minute,” I said. “We need to get up to the top of the dam ASAP to rescue Queen Sherrhi’s marines. Can you give us a lift and not spare the horsepower?”
“So long as my Roger Joe-Bob’s in good hands, we can make that happen,” said Mimi via my phone.
The nose of the Screaming Mimi poked over the edge of the roof while its fans kept running. Tomáso and Diágo lifted Poly and me up a level and the two of us climbed on board the custom private jet. When we were strapped in, Mimi said something that sounded like “Yee hah!” in Pyrish-4 and waved a ten gallon hat from the console between the pilot and co-pilot’s stations. Maybe the hat was Roger Joe-Bob’s?
Our bodies changed elevation faster than I’d ever recalled and my stomach, liver and spleen were lucky to keep up. Soon we were even with the Graph and waved to Terrhi.
Mimi saw what was going on below in Lake Mead and took a reconnaissance pass to get a better look. Things weren’t going well for the marines. As I’d feared, once their flotation chambers were punctured, their buoyancy decreased rapidly. The eight Nautilus-style submarines had circled the wagons, so to speak, and formed a bow to stern octagonal steel cordon around the sinking Dauushans. Constrained in space, with nowhere to go, Martian tripods were able to pick off individual marines and blast the
m with jumbo-sized sweeteners. Dozens of chilled Dauushan marine-sicles bobbed mostly below the waterline, like pathetic pink icebergs.
“Can you get us to the Matriarch of the Skies?” I asked Mimi.
“I’d have to be tryin’ hard not to catch a target that big,” said our pilot.
My phone connected Poly to Terrhi and explained what we needed. My honorary niece put on her metaphorical Princess of Dauush tiara and gave a royal command for Lohrri and Naddéo to lower the rear ramp on the Sky Mum so we could board. Given the size of the ramp and Mimi’s expert piloting, Poly and I had no trouble jumping from aircraft to airship five hundred feet above the lake. Holding hands, we ran through the Dauushan-sized main corridor of the dirigible to the control room at the front end of the gondola, avoiding mastodon-sized crew members. At last, we reached Lohrri and Naddéo in the airship’s nerve center.
“Why aren’t you helping the marines?” I shouted. “They’re being frozen left and right down there.”
“Royal Dauushan Drop Marines are military,” said Lohrri, “and the Royal Bodyguards are a separate, civilian branch of government.”
“Marines don’t want help from Bodyguards,” said Naddéo. “The conflict goes back generations.”
“You’re going to let your queen’s marines freeze out there?” said Poly.
“Or die,” I said upping the stakes, “over an inter-service turf battle?” I looked disgusted.
Lohrri and Naddéo looked sheepish.
“Shove over,” I said, trying to get Lohrri to step away from her command console.
As you might imagine, someone my size wasn’t very good at shoving an eight-ton Dauushan. Poly had a better idea. She climbed on Naddéo’s neck and stood ready to direct the bodyguard to manipulate the definitely not human-sized controls. I did the same with Lohrri. We had to lean forward to see much—Dauushans’ heads are that big—and the vertical ear rising up from the center of their skulls was another obstacle to our observation, but Poly leaned left and I leaned right and we were well-situated.
Xenotech What Happens: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 3) Page 27