DIRE:SINS (The Dire Saga Book 5)

by Andrew Seiple

  “Out there?” I stared into the darkness. “According to Lust there’s still wild fae out there, too. Dire’s a little concerned.”

  “Don’t be. He’s a big boy, and he knows when to run. Besides, he’s got a few boxes of old style nails along. Cold iron for the win, huh?”

  “Where’d we pick up those?” I didn’t remember ordering that.

  “Re-enactment village a few dozen miles from the lair. Seemed prudent.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “As for the others, Beta’s up there talking with the ghost and the tree guy,” he waved up at the poop deck, or whatever it was. “Delta’s down in the hold telling bad jokes with Punching Judy. And Gamma’s in the cabin with Maskelyne and Harrier, hammering out contingency plans.”

  “They’re still at it? Good to see they’re taking it seriously.”

  “She’s thought through the ramifications, all right. And the Harrier seems to be the sort of guy who takes on his defeat by planning to hit the next crisis twice as hard.”

  I nodded. “At least he’s channeling it in a good direction. People like that can be aggravating.”

  He tilted his head in that faint way I’d come to register as amusement. “Heh. Bit of irony there, coming from you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That’s exactly what you do.”

  I snorted.

  “Yeah, maybe you don’t see it like I do,” he said, plopping down on the deck with a few faint clanks and rattles. “It’s that drive. You have to keep moving forward, all the time, or you’re not happy.”

  “Is there any other way to live that’s worth living?”

  “I take things one day at a time, and it seems to work out for me. But that’s mainly because I know you’ve got the future planning covered.”

  I felt a smile tug at my lips. “Guess that’s why we work so well together.” And we did, when it came down to it. I’d tried working with people before, and been disappointed time and again. Sometimes it was their fault, other times it was mine, for having expectations that turned out to be unreasonable. But Alpha and the rest of the Greek Chorus, they were a solid steel back that I could lean against, knowing that they wouldn’t fail me at the worst possible moment, wouldn’t betray me without a major hack, or some seriously compromised code.

  I didn’t have to worry about them, and that was refreshing. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones along on this little jaunt.

  Ghost and Green Knight first, I decided, and headed to the aft deck.

  They turned to me as I climbed the wooden steps, headed up to where the wheel of the ship rolled and turned as the vessel swayed. Beta gave a small wave, and I returned it.

  “Evening Missus,” Rumjack doffed his cap, revealing long brown hair. “Late night walk? Couldn’t sleep?” He glanced up at the wooden-fleshed giant next to him, who looked down impassively, eyes gleaming faintly in the dark visor of his helm.

  “Always hard to sleep in this kind of situation,” I leaned on the railing. “Just burning nervous energy, Dire supposes.”

  “Cor! Ain’t that a proper pretty voice, now that it’s not hidin’ behind a lion wif a throat ailment.”

  I chuckled despite myself. He grinned a gap-toothed grin, and sidled closer. “Ow’s a pretty young thing like yerself get into the ne’er-do-well line o’ work anyhow?”

  “Oh, the usual. Murderous foes, dead friends, useless heroes, and the complete failure of society to aid the survivors or set matters right.” I stared at him until he blinked, and looked away. “But your team seems cut of a different cloth. Perhaps they’re up for the challenge that the Maestro presents.”

  The Green Knight shifted as I said that name, and I studied him as Beta moved quietly into position to his side. But the big man subsided, and groaned out incomprehensible moans.

  “Sorry, she doesn’t understand what you’re saying.” I glanced back to Rumjack. “Do you?”

  “Aye. He’s saying that name still makes him feel strange, like there’s summat he should be seeing to, but he can’t remember what. Reminds him o’ bad old times, it does.”

  “Ah. Apologies.”

  The Green Knight groaned more, and spread his hands. Mostly flesh, those, with streaks of wood-like stuff tracing up to the fingers in long, twisting lines. It wasn’t until the wood traced up his body that it broke out into larger patches.

  “He says he forgives you. ’Ad a fair amount o’ bad times when he woke up in the wood, wiv no memories and no way to talk to the people who ran in fear. Prob’ly best th’ team found ’im when they did, and ’elped him. They’re family, they is, to ’im and me.” Rumjack turned back to face me full on. “So ifn’ you’re worryin’ about useless heroes, and havin’ to do ’orrible things because we can’t cut it, you can take that sent’ment and stuff it, me lady. We’re Queensguard. We’ve done ’arder things than this long before you ever made yer first set of iron petticoats, and we’ll be savin’ the day long after yer dust and rust.” He pulled a hip flask from his belt, waggled it at me, and took a long drink before passing it up to the Green Knight. “An’ that’s all I got ter say on that matter.”

  I nodded, and put my hands in my pockets. “Fair enough.” I turned to leave and Beta followed.

  “Nah, you can stay, mister machine. Got a few more ol’ stories of the Spanish Main if yer innerested.”

  “I am. So you were a privateer, then?”

  “Well, after th’ mutiny, an’ a stint o’ piracy that didn’t work out, the new Captain decided maybe England wasn’t quite so bad if we had a different sort o’ unnerstanding wiv’er...”

  I left them to their tall tales, and headed toward the lit cabin near the front of the vessel. I got maybe five meters from the door when it opened, and Maskelyne peered out. “Your minion mentioned that you might be coming.”

  “Her name’s Gamma. She didn’t mention that?”

  “She did.” Miss Maskelyne considered me for a moment, then moved aside. “I’ll assume you’re past the posturing, since you’ve dropped the overly sinister bit with your voice.”

  “For now. The night is young.” I stepped in, and Harrier and Gamma looked up at me from the holographic map of London they’d been poring over. “Everything in hand?” I asked Gamma.

  “Mostly. The culprits of no less than fifteen percent of last month’s metahuman crimes are as yet unidentified. We’ve been going over their case files to try and figure out what powers were involved, and if they fall within the ranges of existing villains.”

  “No easy task,” Harrier added. He was down to an undersuit, a tight-fitting one-piece garment with input ports exposing bare flesh along his torso, arms, and thighs. No mask... thanks to his public identity he didn’t really need one. Slate-gray eyes considered me from under a high-and-tight haircut. “London’s really a beat by itself. Tens of thousands of people passing through every week, hundreds of thousands commuting in. And this is just the metahuman crime, without even going into the non-powered stuff.”

  “That’s going to be where the Maestro does most of his business, at the heart of the mundane crimes,” I folded my arms. “He’s that sort of villain, the kind that gets off on how wicked he thinks he is.”

  Maskelyne gave me a funny look and turned back to the map. “At any rate, thanks to Lust, we’ve got the location of his headquarters, so that saves us some trouble. Hard as it is to believe, it makes a horrible sort of sense.”

  “That was a bit of a surprise,” I admitted. “With all the tourist traffic, it seemed rather implausible at first.”

  “Anyway, we’ve got another problem,” Gamma spoke up. “No matter how we slice it, we can’t account for all the metahumans he’s created. Even if only a fraction of them are in London, and I can’t imagine he doesn’t have a few dozen as backup, then he’s been keeping them out of sight. Something’s up here, something we can’t quite figure out.”

  “It would be easier if we could dismiss this as paranoid ravings o
r part of your sinister plots,” Miss Maskelyne threw in. “But Acertijo corroborated the story.” She massaged her temples. “Frankly, I’m terrified. With his powers, with his patience, the scope and scale of what he’s done is horrible. He’s turned pretty much every level of the system built to detect and protect against people like him into his armor. How many were silenced, how many quietly killed or mindraped to keep himself hidden? If I hadn’t gone off on you earlier today over one of those bloody triggers I wouldn’t believe it. Less painful that way.”

  “You realize what we’re going to have to do, when we get to him,” I said, stepping closer. “He’s simply too dangerous otherwise.”

  Miss Maskelyne glared at me. “Out of the question.”

  “You have a long-term solution? His powers work over electronic media. One phone call, one radio broadcast, and Britain’s back to being fucked again.”

  “This discussion is done. We’ll find a way. Prevailed against worse odds.”

  I looked to Gamma, and she nodded her mask toward the door. I nodded back. They were ready to fight, even if they were being a bit naive. I had the answers I needed, and would only provoke them more with my continued presence. “We shall see,” I said, turning to the door and leaving. “Good night.”

  Then it was down below decks again, and looking for the last few members of our crew.

  I got down to the second deck, and a rustle of cloth behind me told me I was no longer alone. “Acertijo,” I said, stopping and glancing over my shoulder.

  “Dire.”

  “You have something to say?”

  The seconds stretched. “I am sorry.”

  “So is she. You shouldn’t have lied about your name.”

  “I knew that the day would come when we would be at odds once more.”

  “Oh shut up.” Silence again. “You know the truth of her. She seeks a better world.”

  “You think you do, yes.”

  “She will make a better world. Until that day, let them call her villain. She cares not.”

  “Then why are your knuckles white?”

  I looked down at my clenched hands, barely visible in the lamplight. I hadn’t even noticed. I unclenched my fingers, flexed them. “You hurt Dire.”

  “I am sorry. I held out as long as I could—”

  “Not like that. That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you couldn’t even trust Dire with your goddamn real name. We were done the moment that lie came to light, Manuel.”

  He looked away. “I am sorry.”

  “Damned right you are.” I turned my back to him and left him at the lamps, headed down into the darkness of the hold, mask flipping over to nightsight as the ambient light grew too faint to see. “Good luck with your bruja,” I said, into the silence. “May you both get everything you deserve.”

  Acertijo didn’t answer.

  I followed the sound of laughter, down to the bilges. Bilges? Yes, that was the proper term.

  “Stop me if you’ve heard this one before,” Delta said, as I rounded the corner. “A guy goes golfing with his preacher, and on the first hole he takes a swing at the ball, and goes ‘God fucking damn it shit I missed—’ Oh, hey boss!”

  “Don’t stop on her account,” I leaned against the wall, looking between them. Incongruously, there was a ping pong table set up in the bilges, next to a generator and a television set, with a few video game systems sitting next to it. The heroes had made a lounge of this place, it seemed.

  Hanging from a ceiling support beam by her bare feet, Punching Judy regarded me from a bat’s eye perspective. Her makeup was a bit smudged, and she was wearing a sweat suit, but her eyes were sharp and alert as she tracked my movements. “Ey there, Delta’s boss. Crackin’ minion you’ve got here. Fab at table tennis.”

  “Going to assume that’s good,” I said. I’d been in London for months but some of the slang was still beyond me.

  “Yeah, don’t listen to her; she beat my ass like a dominatrix. Seriously, it was all like ‘clang clang clang’ down here just before you arrived.” Delta snickered. “Telling me I was a naughty little bot. Gettin’ me all overheated and bothered.”

  “You feckin’ wish, tinhead.” Judy stuck out her tongue. “Get ya some real skin and we’ll talk, otherwise I ent makin’ out with no toaster.”

  “Okay, sure. Hey boss, can I flay somebody and ride around in their rotting skinsuit?”

  “No! Not like that, like that one movie with the hunky time traveling robot guy with the gun fetish. Y’know, wossname...”

  “Ah.” I took a step backward. “So you’re ah, good for the assault tomorrow?”

  “Pssh. Poncy villain wossname with a thing for being all creepy and mindrapey? Gits like that always fall down wi’ one punch.” Judy fired off a rapid volley of jabs, rocking back and forth on the beam. “To you it’s maybe the result o’ months of work. To us it’s Tuesday.”

  “Maybe I can talk to Vector, see about getting some real skin,” Delta tapped her mask thoughtfully. “Like fungus, or something like that...”

  “Yer mom’s fungus.”

  “I don’t have a mom!”

  “Oooohh, lookit the orphan...”

  I retreated while I still had dignity, and made my way back to the cabin, and my hammock. We’d done our best to prepare, and morale was good. Tomorrow we’d get to see the fruits of our labor.

  CHAPTER 19: BREACHING

  “We came this close to firing the Tridents. No, I don't really care about the reason, I want Doctor Dire behind bars or dead. This isn't the first time she's almost caused World War Three, and until she's dealt with I doubt it'll be the last.”

  --Captain Sudman, of the RN Cuttlefish

  We rode the storm, catching the wind between the worlds and ascending up into the clouds on Gallowglass, leaving logic and physics behind as the ghostly vessel trumped the wall between faerie and reality, hauling us through rain that fell upward and striated bands of purple lightning that crackled past us, drawing blue St. Elmo’s fire out of the mast. It was glorious to see from the safety of my armor, even if the lightning did throw weird error results to my sensory analysis suite.

  Then, with a clap of thunder like a mountain falling on its side, the weirdling stars below us gave way to the lights of London, and the sky above us showed stars and moon kissing the horizon.

  We had returned. It was 3 AM, Faerie lay behind us, our enemies were ahead of us, and we were ready to kick some ass.

  For a moment we considered the city below. We’d come in at the outskirts to the east, past East End. If I looked carefully, I could probably trace the route I’d run with my remote drone body, a few days ago.

  But I had no time for that. Almost immediately, air raid sirens fired to life around the city.

  “FASTER RESPONSE TIME THAN WE’D HOPED. ALPHA, SHUT HER DOWN.”

  I’d set up contingencies upon contingencies, while I was preparing for a final showdown. This wasn’t the way I’d expected it to go, but nonetheless, some of my preparations had not been in vain.

  “On it boss,” Alpha said, and below us, the lights of the city began to wink out. Subtle hacks, weeks of infiltration, all paying off in a hot heartbeat. Oh, some things would still have power... hospitals, biomedical storage, emergency services at Heathrow... but as for the rest of it, darkness took back her crown from glittering London. And the damned sirens stopped.

  For about two seconds, then a few of them came back in the distance.

  “GENERATORS. NOT MUCH WE CAN DO ABOUT THOSE.”

  “You’ve done enough,” Miss Maskelyne said, pulling her gloves on and opening a portal to street-level. “Now it’s our turn.”

  “OH, SHE’S JUST GETTING STARTED.” I hopped the railing, kicked on my gravitics, and flew into the night, arrowing straight for the center of the city.

  We were up against a clairvoyant, with no way to block him that allowed us to accomplish our objectives. Our tactics reflected that. We’d split up, attack from multiple directi
ons, and require Sloth to split his focus between us in an area that was dark as hell, where his normal human vision couldn’t make out any real details.

  At least, the others would. I had a different role to play.

  As I flew static hissed and feedback reverberated, while the city’s emergency comm system flickered to life. No way to stop that, no way to hack it, it was all hardwired. I gritted my teeth, as a voice I’d heard far too often for my liking spoke.

  “Well well well! I was wondering when you’d screw your courage to the sticking place, Dire!”

  “DOUBT MANY THINGS, YOU SNIVELING VERMIN, BUT DOUBT NOT HER COURAGE.” The arches of Tower Bridge beckoned me, and I landed on the catwalk between them, turning my mask toward the Tower of London.

  “Stopping to sightsee, Doctor? You don’t have time for that.” Was that a hint of uncertainty in his voice?

  “OH DROP IT YOU FESTERING BOIL. SHE KNOWS YOU’RE IN THERE. YOU’VE GOT THREE MINUTES TO COME OUT AND SURRENDER BEFORE SHE RIPS IT APART AND FINDS YOU.”

  He laughed, but it was unsteady. “Such delusions you have. Well, if you’re going to persist in them, I shan’t let you leave empty-handed.” Around me, lights flickered to life, searchlights pinpointing me where I stood, arms crossed, surveying the ancient bastion. And as more lights rose up to find me, so did four caped figures soar out of the night, to surround me in a loose semi-circle. I recognized Lady Thrush, but the others were strangers. Minor heroes, perhaps, or villains. My nightsight showed me every detail of their glaring faces, their accusing eyes... and their clenched fists.

  “You murderer!” Lady Thrush shrieked.

  “Minions? Kill.” Maestro commanded.

  Lady Thrush and the most muscular of the four closed on me as I flew back. A third started throwing lightning bolts that scattered off my forcefield. The fourth gestured and cables ripped free of the Tower Bridge, swiped upward toward me as I dodged frantically.

  “You know the really unfair thing about this part?” Maestro chortled. “I can say pretty much any bloody thing I want, and they’ll only hear the screams of random phantom civilians you murdered, that they’re hallucinating on the ground below. I’ve got them that programmed. Really, if I were up against me I’d cry foul.”