Other units of the II Corps fell around Red Square itself, taking out elements of the 3rd Battalion, Kremlin Regiment and propelling them through portals to various pastures and clearings scattered in rural areas well outside the Moscow city limits. All Oni were given immediate one-way-trips to the North Sea prison, as per policy.
The 3rd and 4th Battalions of 4th Brigade, 2nd Division hit the Presidium building, surging through all four floors, removing any and all personnel, especially concentrating on the offices of the FSO—the Federal Protective Service, similar to the United States Secret Service but with greater authority and responsibilities. All human occupants of the building were rendered unconscious and sent to the center of the Moscow Olympic Stadium 3.1 miles to the north-northeast.
In less than two minutes, the Presidium was entirely under Scottie control.
Four battalions of 4th Brigade, 1st Division of II Corps (1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 5th) plunged through the roofs of the Kremlin Senate building, flooding through all three floors, sweeping the building clean of all its inhabitants, including the Russian president and his family. In one corner of the triangular shaped building, the Scotties met stiff resistance from magical spells, later estimated to be the combined efforts of a wizard and two dozen Oni. The wizard’s talisman was evaluated to be nearly as potent as their own. Before the Scotties could trap him, however, the Errabêlu wizard escaped through a portal and could not be traced.
The Scotties did catch another wizard on the second floor of the residential section. She was asleep at the time of her capture and was stripped of her talismans. She was transferred, under guard, to the Stadium.
Paul could see, via the microportals he used to monitor the attack, that the objectives had been taken. Moscow was now in Scottie hands—uh, figuratively speaking, of course.
“It’s time, Daneels,” he said to Daneel 1 and 2. Paul formed a portal to the Stadium and marched through it.
Ω
Under the cold light of the stadium’s illumination, Paul could see bodies everywhere, all of them lying on the Astroturf. And all of them asleep.
Well, not quite. One feminine figure, surrounded by a ring of Scotties, still stood. This would be the wizard captured at the Senate building. A second figure, a large burly man a dozen yards away, argued with a Scottie, his voice thundering in the night air, the man’s arms gesturing wildly.
Two portals appeared a few yards away from Paul, discharging Irona 222 and Roberta 300.
“Dad,” Roberta 300 said. “Mission accomplished. All objectives taken. All the Kremlin Regimental soldiers have been returned to the Kremlin Arsenal. These,” and she waved a suddenly constructed arm from the side of her cube at all the forms sleeping on the ground around the area, “were all captured in the Senate and Presidium buildings.”
Paul nodded. “How many Oni were sent to Azkaban?”
“Our count is four hundred and seven tonight,” Irona 222 answered.
Turning to Daneel 1, Paul said, “I was hoping to take more wizards captive in this operation.”
Roberta 300 sighed. “They were too well prepared. I think they were anticipating our attack.”
Paul blinked in surprise at her words. “You think someone squealed on us?”
“No, not that,” the flustered Scottie argued. “It’s just that so far, we have won all the battles and with hardly any effort. I mean, we’ve taken almost no losses and they have yet to put up a credible defense against us. Under those conditions, if I were them, I think I would have had an escape plan well prepped and ready to go too.”
Paul recognized the truth of what she was saying. “That makes sense.” He looked over at the wizard. “I want to speak to her in a minute. But first, let’s get the Normals out of the way. I think you should send them all back to their beds. Hopefully, in the morning, they will think that this was all just a bad dream.”
It took a few minutes for the Scotties present to accomplish that task. Since almost all of the Normals were asleep, they weren’t very much trouble to deal with. Only the Russian president, Arkady Gaviil Chernov, was still awake. In his case, he was still arguing vehemently with Robbie 409. Paul watched from a safe distance as Robbie grew increasingly frustrated with the argument.
“Я не буду стоять здесь и читаться лекции потомком обезьяны (I will not stand here and be lectured to by a descendant of an ape!)” loudly shouted Robbie, as he finally cast a spell to put the man to sleep on the Astroturf. Paul chuckled, recognizing the quote from Max Evans on the TV show Roswell.
Less than a minute later, even the Russian president had been returned to his bed.
“Are all Normals that stupid?” asked Daneel 1.
“All politicians are required to have frontal lobotomies before running for public office,” Paul remarked, in an off-handed manner.
Daneel 1 scoffed in reply. “You’re joking again.”
Paul shrugged. “I used to think that was a joke. Now I am not so sure.” He glanced over at the wizard. “Let’s at least go talk to someone who is going to give us a slightly more intelligent response, shall we? Hopefully, it will be better than talking to a wall!”
He walked over to the wizard prisoner. Tall, slim, blonde and very attractive, her look was nevertheless full of daggers in Paul’s direction. In return, he smiled and gave her a half bow.
“добрый вечер (Good evening.)” Paul said, by way of greeting.
“I can speak English,” she snarled back.
Paul nodded but kept his pleasant smile. “Thanks. I take it you are not Oleg Nevsky.”
She glared at him, but refused to reply.
Daneel 1 floated closer. “We have identified her as Dusha Nikia Belyaev.”
The wizard jerked in surprise, no doubt by the fact that a floating cube could speak and also that the cube knew her name. Paul grinned in amusement.
“Dusha, I am glad to meet you. Let’s go to a more private location and have a little chat.”
“We have nothing to chat about,” Dusha responded icily.
“I think we do,” Paul countered. “My goal is to free the Normals of this world, and I wouldn’t mind a little more information from you to help me accomplish that before I send you to a small, gray prison cell in the middle of the North Sea.”
Dusha glowered hostilely at him. “And your choice is to give up this crazy scheme of yours or spend the rest of your life in a place worse than hell itself.”
Paul’s smile was replaced by a frown. “What are you talking about?”
She regarded him silently, her expression haughty and disdainful.
Paul sighed and shook his head. With the wave of one hand, he cast a new spell.
“In the names of Alexander II, Peter the Great, and Ivan the Terrible, let there be an avatar of this wizard, to truthfully answer my questions,” Paul cheerlessly chanted.
Startled, Dusha watched as her doppelganger formed a few feet away. She jerked forward, as if to attack her own avatar but Paul froze her in place with a mere raised eyebrow.
He glanced over at the avatar. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do,” Dusha’s avatar emotionlessly said.
The real Dusha grimaced in distaste and anger, gritting her teeth savagely but said nothing.
Paul nonchalantly smiled in her direction but addressed his question to the avatar. “Tell me truthfully, what is this threat of a place worse than hell itself?”
The avatars shook its head before answering. “We don’t know, not exactly. In the distant past, there were two insurrections by small groups of wizards, both times in an attempt to take control of Errabêlu. The wizards involved disappeared mysteriously, never to be heard from again. It has been said that they were trapped in an awful prison, a place so bad that they died there.”
The real Dusha could not restrain herself. Spitting on the ground, she added “Do you really think that Errabêlu will just rol
l over and let you take over the world? Oh, sure, you’ve kicked us out of mother Russia. But your efforts end soon, understand? Very soon. I strongly advise you to stop now, before it’s too late. If you surrender now, I will put in a good word for you. You might spend a few years in a prison but eventually, on good behavior, they’ll let you go. Surrendering now is your best option.”
Paul pressed his lips together in a white slash, his face reddening.
“We’re not bluffing,” the real Dusha continued sincerely but with smugness. “Those two rebellions really happened. Other wizards were made to disappear. The same will happen to you. This may be the only warning you get. Surrender. It’s the smart thing to do.”
Paul shook his head, convinced that he would get no more information out of her. With a wave of his hand, the avatar disappeared.
“Daneel 1, please have her moved to Azkaban. I’m tired of dealing with her.”
“With pleasure,” declared Daneel 1 with a grim smile on his holographic face.
TWENTY
The Saint Elias Mountains, Canada
Mount Logan Facility
Paul’s office on the 5th floor
Monday, 8:53 a.m. PDT
June
Paul returned to Mount Logan and soon forgot about Dusha and her vague warning. Events were picking up speed. The mobilization orders from the countries around the globe ceased and two countries, Poland and Venezuela, even rescinded their directives, returning their armed forces to their home military bases. Other countries, including Ukraine, Cuba, and Bulgaria seemed embarrassed that they had ever issued such orders to begin with and appeared on the verge of cancelling their operations, as soon as they could come up with a legitimate excuse to do so.
The Scotties were making considerable inroads into various capital cities of the world. Already, they had added the capital cities of London, New Delhi, Brasilia, Paris, Mexico City, and Cairo to their list. In every case so far, there were no reported signs of wizards or Oni, and no indications of any magic used in the environs.
Paul was perplexed. Yes, Errabêlu did not control every country in the world—only the richest and most powerful ones. But there had been wizards in some of these countries before the Scotties had attacked. Where had they gone?!
Something was going on. A sense of concern and yes, even alarm touched him more and more often these days. Errabêlu was getting ready to do something dreadful. He could sense it. But what?
Ω
It was just after lunch when a Scottie popped into the room near the west wall and floated in Paul’s direction, toward his desk. He recognized the face on the hologram above her cube, one of the Rommie series. The number displayed in the cube’s corner was 451.
That was when he remembered. Rommie 451 was the Scottie that he had assigned as team leader to Project Narcissus (named after the mythical Greek hunter who fell in love with his own reflection). This was a small team of Scotties selected to explore the best alternatives of how to deal with, on a long term basis, the wizards of Errabêlu.
So far, Rommie 451 and her team had come up with a number of ideas and then, after closer examination, discarded most of them. Thus far, her team had not come up with any ideas that even Paul approved of, let alone what Capie might find acceptable.
One of the least objectionable of their ideas was to strand the evil wizards in deserted locations around the globe. Paul had placed Hamadi and his Oni in such a location, in stasis fields under thirty feet of ocean. Still, Paul considered such a solution to be temporary at best. He had read too many books, seen too many movies where a danger from the past was accidently revived. The 1956 Godzilla movie came to mind, but there were scores of other examples. No, he wanted something much more permanent—an ultimate solution up to but not including murder. That far he would not go. And whatever solution they came up with, Paul would somehow have to get Capie to agree with the idea.
Paul raised his eyebrows on Rommie 451’s approach.
“Rommie 451? How are things going?” he asked, grateful for the chance to take a break from the paperwork he was immersed in.
The image of the pretty brunette holograph poised above her black cube produced a big smile. “Just peachy, Dad. Just peachy. For a change, I actually have good news to report. So good, in fact, that I thought I would come personally here to tell you about it.”
Daneel 1 floated closer to them but didn’t say anything.
Paul laid down his iPad. “By all means, please tell me about it.”
“It was one of the wilder ideas we came up with. Talos 22 actually suggested it first, back when we were on Mars, but we weren’t able to explore it properly or test it out until we came to Earth.”
Some people just loved to drag things out as much as possible. Paul nodded patiently, waiting for Rommie 451 to continue.
Which, after another smile, she did. “You see, back on Mars, we only had two human beings to observe: you and Mom. And both of you were wizards. So we couldn’t really look at the so-called mental barrier, the one that keeps Normals from using their magical powers because neither one of you had one. It was only after we came to Earth that the opportunity to examine the barriers of Normals really arose. And we have done so! We’ve looked at thousands of Normals! Or more specifically, their mental barriers. And we have compared them with the mental pathways used by the wizards of Errabêlu and of course, you and Mom.”
Paul cocked his head to one side. “Are you suggesting that we might somehow be able to reinstall the mental barriers in a wizard’s brain, to turn him back into a Normal again? Jaret told me that was impossible.”
“And we agree. Re-establishing the mental barriers appears to be impossible,” Rommie responded smugly. “At least, not without killing the wizard involved. But there is another option. You see, we have identified a hundred or so key neural links associated with the use of magic. Synapses that are common to every wizard we’ve checked so far.”
Paul blinked. If what Rommie was saying was true enough… “Are you suggesting that you can burn out those neural links?”
Rommie giggled pleasantly. “Yeah, that is exactly what we propose. We’ve mapped the links in question, just to be sure they don’t involve autonomic functions like breathing or cardiac activity. And they don’t. They don’t seem to be involved in functions of intelligence either, such as memory, imagination, speech generation or such. So taking the key neural paths out that we’ve identified shouldn’t impact a wizard in any other way. Just permanently turn him into a Normie.”
Stunned, Paul sat back in his seat blinking and then abruptly barked with laughter. When he managed to get control of himself again, he asked. “Can you really do it? When will you be ready to try it?”
“We think we can,” Rommie cautiously replied. “It will not be easy. We must first reduce the wizard in question to a temporary comatose state and use a team of Scotties to implement the procedure, flash burning out the synapses all at once. But yes, once we have established the correct procedure, perhaps in a week or two, we should be ready to test it on our first subject and with a high chance of success.”
Paul grinned wildly. “What perfect poetic justice! After all their arrogance! All the murders of Normals that they have committed! To have their powers of magic stripped of them, to turn them back into Normals again! Rommie, that is sheer genius! Daneel, make a note of this. I want Rommie here and Talos 022 to be promoted, at the first opportunity. I absolutely love this option!”
Daneel 1 seemed a little less than delighted. “It hasn’t been tested yet, obviously.”
Paul sobered somewhat. “Yeah, true, not yet. Daneel, let’s make Hamadi and that Chinese wizard, what’s his name, the first two guinea pigs. Send a small team to the Indian Ocean, to Cartier Island. Recover Hamadi and his Oni. Take them to Azkaban and set up the test. Ooh, Capie is going to love this idea too!”
“Yuan Wu is the name of the other wizard,” Daneel 1 muttered to the ceiling.
“Ah, Dad?” Rommie 4
51 interrupted. “There are two little details I should mention first.”
Paul calmed down, forcing himself to wait patiently again. “Two details?”
“Yes. First, the effect will be permanent,” she explained, in an apologetic manner. “Even re-growing the neurons shouldn’t be enough to re-establish the pathways. Once a wizard is turned into a Normal again, there is no way on Earth to reverse the process.”
Paul responded to his information with a chuckle. “Excellent. I actually prefer that end result. What is the second detail?”
“You once told us that you employed a spell to help yourself become smarter,” Rommie explained, with a tight smile. “And that it hurt like the dickens too. Well, when we burn out these neural links and the wizard wakes up, he’s going to have the king of all headaches. It’ll make the ones you had look like a long pleasant soak in a bubble bath by comparison!”
Paul laughed and slapped a knee. “That’s just great, Rommie!” he cried. “It’s perfect! It couldn’t be any better than that! Daneel, arrange with Daryl 71 for Rommie and Talos 22 to have access to Hamadi and Wu at the prison for evaluation as soon as possible.”
Paul turned back to Rommie. “Take a careful look at both of them. Don’t tell them what you are doing. Oh, and don’t burn out their neural links just yet. I want to talk to both of them first before you turn them into Normals.” He positively cackled with glee, rubbing both hands together joyfully.
“Thanks, Dad!” Rommie 451 replied enthusiastically. “It will work!”
“Keep me apprised,” Paul said, picking up his iPad again, a big silly grin on his face. “Let me know when you are ready to do it for real.”
Ω
That evening, as Paul was working on additional paperwork, a microportal opened in the room above his head. Across the table from him, Daneel 1 rotated slightly in place, as if listening to something.
“What’s up, Daneel?” Paul asked.
“Daneel 7 reports from Washington DC that there is something mysterious going on in the state of Virginia. Oh, my! Dad! He reports that he sent 1st platoon, 2nd Company, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 1st Division out on reconnaissance. They were cut off in mid-communication and now cannot be raised! He fears that they might have been taken prisoner. Or worse!” Daneel paused. “He wants to know what you want him to do.”
The Genie and the Engineer 3: Ravages of War Page 21