She was becoming like me, in other words. Soon the girl I’d fallen in love with would fade away, and she’d be somebody else. Not worse, or better, but different. Christine Dark, college student and geek girl, would be dead and gone. And that realization hurt me, hurt me more than I’d expected. It wasn’t the same as losing Fay, my teenage love, dead in my arms, but it was a loss I didn’t want to experience.
The world didn’t care what I wanted. She was changing, and there was nothing I could do about that, except hope the new Christine would be someone I could love – and who could love me back.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s okay. It was bad, but we made it through, you made it through. We escaped from a Neo-proof prison, and threw down with the Iron-Fucking Tsar and kicked his ass, okay? We’re heroes. We can deal with all this shit, have pancakes after midnight, and save the world again the next day.”
“We-we are the champions, m-my friends,” she stuttered between sobs, sounding like she was quoting or maybe singing something. “I was so scared, Mark. I don’t think I can handle being that scared again.”
“You handled it like a champ, Christine. The fear never goes away, unless you go numb, and then you can’t feel anything. Just let the fear come, and set it aside and do whatever you’ve got to do. Which, by the way, is exactly what you’ve been doing all along, so I’m just wasting my breath. You already know what to do.”
“I guess. There is the part of me that is getting off from all the adrenaline, and there is the rest of me, just about ready to die just so I can stop being scared. It’s crazy.”
“Well, at least you’re getting the Neo rush out of it,” I said. So was I, for that matter. I made a face and our eyes met; she kissed me.
“Oh, my God,” she said in a very different tone of voice when we took a break. “I really, really want to… you know.”
“Me too.”
“I noticed, Captain Is-That-A-Gun-In-Your-Pocket. Do you think we have time?”
“We’ll make time.”
I swept the cups and dishes off the kitchen island and they went crashing to the floor; Condor would probably send me a bill for a couple grand, but I didn’t care. We hopped onto it, fumbling for the fastenings in our costumes.
We only had thirty minutes or so, before Chastity politely interrupted us with news, but we made the most of it.
The Freedom Legion
Freedom Island, Caribbean Sea, March 29, 2013
Ali Fiori arrived just in time to see the last of the watch detail go down. Nothing stood between the raiders and John Clarke but a force field. And her.
Except she wasn’t sure if she should try to stop them. “Cassius!”
Janus turned toward her. “We’re here to save John, Ali.”
“I know. I also know Daedalus is the traitor.”
That surprised him, she could see. “Then you will let us through?”
She came to a decision. “I will, but we have to make it look good. I’m glad nobody’s badly hurt,” she added. None of the Legionnaires lying around the prison facility were conscious, but they were all tough boys and girls, and they’d recover eventually. “Daedalus has booby-trapped at least some if not all our implants. Nebiru is working on it, but it’s going to take time. Until that happens, we’ve got to make it look like we still believe Daedalus’ lies.”
While they talked, Condor and a man in a black-and-bronze costume she didn’t recognize were dismantling the force field surrounding John’s comatose body. “Very well,” Janus said. “What do you want me to do?”
“Give me your best shot, big boy,” Ali replied with a savage grin. “That way, it will look like I tried to stop you and failed.” She’d been on the receiving end of a Janus Yamato Special before; it wasn’t going to be fun.
“As you wish. Do you want to say ‘when’ or should I surprise you?”
“Surp…”
The word exploded in golden light.
Ali opened her eyes. She was partially embedded into one of the walls; Janus had concentrated the power of his blast very carefully to reduce collateral damage to a minimum, but she’d still gone through several walls. The raid was going to cost a pretty penny, but at least this time no civilians had died.
She was in about as much pain as when John had punched her lights out, but she was still mobile. “Give me a casualty report,” she said into her wrist-comp, which had survived the blast, barely.
The central computer replied, its pleasant baritone based on Doc Slaughter’s voice. I miss you, Doc, she thought as the computer went over the list of injured – and, as she’d hoped, without reporting a single fatality. The worst off were the Faerie Godfather, who’d been partially shredded by some incredible force, and Berserker, who’d been in the middle of beating one of the intruders half to death when someone had put him through the same wringer as the Godfather. Whoever was doing that was pretty dangerous; she was glad he or she was on her side.
John was gone, of course, carried off by the raiders. At least he would be safe now. The trial would resume soon enough, with or without a defendant, of course. And Neo conspiracy theorists would start bombarding the blogosphere with claims the escape had been aided and abetted by the Legion itself, protecting its own. The fact the accusations contained more than a kernel of truth did not make them any less outrageous.
That was nicely done, Jason Merrill said in her head.
Thanks to you, she replied.
I’ll be in touch. I just need to go say hi to the wife and kids. The mental voice faded away, leaving behind a pang of regret. Jason’s new existence as a disembodied ghost inside a mental construct would be a shock to his wife, but it would be better than dealing with his death, she supposed. Or maybe not; it wasn’t as if he was going to be all that available in his current state. Oh, well, not her problem, and she had plenty of problems of her own.
At least it looked like things would be over soon. All she had to do was keep up appearances until Nebiru defused the booby traps threatening the Legion.
Then it would be time to settle accounts.
Dragon Wall, Republic of China/Empire of China, March 29, 2013
Olivia O’Brien was going to stop a war – or start it. Either way, the current state of affairs would come to an end.
She flew alongside the Dragon Wall, a huge white flag in her hands. Olivia had picked her spot with care, a sector of wall that covered an area thoroughly unsuited for the movement of troops, which meant only light forces would be covering it. Nobody from her side knew she was gone, at least not yet. When they did, there would be hell to pay.
It didn’t matter. She’d fight a war if need be, but not because people on her side thought it was convenient to have one.
Lightly-guarded sector or not, her nearness to the Wall did not go unnoticed for long. Three flying figures appeared over the horizon and rushed toward her, pausing on the Imperial side of the frontier. Two Celestial Warriors and one Noyan, an Imperial Knight in ornate golden armor.
“I seek an audience with the Emperor!” Olivia called out in Mandarin as soon as they were within shouting distance. “I ask for permission to cross the Wall and enter the Empire.”
“Go back where you came from, woman!” one of the Celestials shouted back. “Or we will cross the wall and enter you!”
She ignored the crude remark – Imperial views on women were far from enlightened – and spoke to the Noyan directly. “I have information that may prevent this war, a war that will benefit no one. I must speak to your ruler.”
The Noyan remained silent, content to let his loud-mouthed underling do the talking. “Bare your breasts, and maybe we’ll let you pass,” the Celestial said contemptuously.
“Why is the head of a turtle allowed to speak?” Olivia asked in an insulting tone; the term could also mean the tip of a penis. “Fornicate yourself, and your ancestors unto eight generations, and let humans talk.”
“I will kill you and fuck your headless corpse!”
She turn
ed back to the Noyan. “Have I your permission to cross over to your side of the wall? If so, I will grant your yipping dog the chance to fuck my headless corpse.”
The Imperial Knight considered the request for a moment, then nodded curtly. Olivia floated over the energy wall, feeling it thrum with power as she passed over it. Blasts of pure heat could erupt from the Wall without warning – any air raid crossing into Imperial territory at any altitude below sixty thousand feet could expect twenty to forty percent casualties, just from going over the Wall – but the Noyan’s permission was enough to let her pass unharmed.
The chatty Celestial Warrior had no interest in letting her remain unharmed, however. As soon as she crossed over, he launched himself at her; crackling electrical arcs emerged from his clenched fists and he wielded them like a combination of whip and sword. Her fire shield and spear appeared in her hands – she’d dropped her white flag before flying over the wall – as she calmly waited for him. The simple choice – kill or be killed – and the rush she felt as she went into motion were welcome.
Olivia moved as he came into range. She slapped his lightning strike aside with her shield and in the same motion drove her flame spear into the Celestial’s snarling face. His protective aura crackled briefly before the fiery weapon smashed through it and the bone and flesh behind it. The man’s head exploded as superheated brain matter sublimated into gas.
The smoking corpse fell to the ground below, and Olivia turned toward the remaining Celestial and his Noyan leader.
The Imperials were laughing. “Well, I guess he did end up with a headless corpse to fuck!” the Celestial said. “Hey, Xi!” he called to the unmoving body below. “Go fuck yourself, you pig scrotum!”
The Noyan spoke at last. “You are truly Artemis, the living goddess. The Emperor himself has spoken highly of your prowess. Come. I will take you to him.”
* * *
Olivia had expected to be led to the capital city of Baotou, but the Emperor had taken to the field, and was far closer to the Wall than she’d realized. Her escorts guided her over a small tent city, protected by hover-tanks and energy weapon batteries, most of them purchased or copied from the Dominion. A quick glance showed that at least one mechanized infantry corps was bivouacking here, some thirty miles from the border, where they could meet any thrust that broke through the Dragon Wall – or launch their own attack on the Republic of China.
The Emperor was waiting for her, standing alone in an empty clearing, although she could see several score Celestials waiting at a respectful distance. He must have watched the entire episode at the Wall through the eyes of the Noyan knight. It was strange that he’d thrown away one of his Celestials just for entertainment purposes, but that was further evidence that his ‘Neos’ were for the most part humans granted superpowers, so numerous he considered them disposable. How many warriors was he prepared to throw at the Republic? Thousands? Enough to match the combined allied forces? She wished she knew.
“It is good to see you again, Mrs. O’Brien,” the Emperor said when she landed in front of him. He was wearing a practical silk outfit, richly embroidered but far simpler than his normal robes of office. It was identical to the one he’d worn during the previous war. “The last time we met we were unable to exchange many pleasantries.”
The last time they’d met, she’d hit him with everything she’d got, shortly after he’d tossed a multi-kiloton yield energy ball at several of her friends and colleagues, killing them and thousands of others. She’d hurt him, but not badly enough. If she tried to do so again, she’d last all of fifteen seconds before he destroyed her, and that was possibly an optimistic estimate. “Good evening, Your Radiant Highness, Son of Heaven, and all that,” she greeted him in a deadpan tone.
The Emperor chuckled. “Such impudence is refreshing, in small doses. You Westerners are utterly incapable of showing respect for rank; sometimes I despair that teaching you manners, after the Conquest is complete, will be an ultimately futile endeavor.”
“On the other hand, the Han citizens of the Republic of China have become accustomed to a society bereft of static hierarchies,” Olivia replied evenly. “I’m sure your subjects will adapt after the inevitable regime change.”
“And the time when those regrettable differences of opinion will be resolved appears to be at hand. Or have you come here hoping otherwise?”
“This war has been arranged by a third party,” Olivia said. “I know the Empire did not launch the attack on Freedom Island. Neither did the Republic. I don’t know who was responsible, but if given time to investigate, we will uncover the truth.”
“Ah. And yet, despite your belief I am innocent in all of this, the Republic and her American and Western running dogs have massed their armies on my borders, like so many spears pointing towards my heart. One would suspect that my guilt or innocence are no longer a concern. President Lao and his tame Yuan are eager to end my reign.”
“They are,” Olivia admitted. “But they won’t move without a pretext. All you have to do is refrain from striking first and providing them with one. Public opinion both in the ROC and the US will not allow the alliance to fire the first shot.”
“Pretexts can always be manufactured,” the Emperor replied. “The Japanese did so in Manchuria; the Germans, in Poland. I remember those actions well, Mrs. O’Brien. History may not repeat itself, but it does follow familiar patterns.”
“You know the Legion doesn’t want war,” she said. “We won’t allow the ROC to create an excuse to attack. Again, as long as you don’t provoke a response, we can defuse the situation.”
“The Legion. The vaunted defenders of humankind. What you fail to realize, my dear lady, is that your organization harbors the very mastermind of this entire situation. What you fail to realize is that you have long clutched a viper to your bosom. A viper by the name of Daedalus Smith.”
It felt as if an icy fist had gripped her heart. “What are you insinuating?”
“I do not insinuate. I speak plainly, and deal in facts. The man in the Myrmidon armor has been a traitor to your Legion, and to humanity itself, from the start. I learned as much while he was my guest at the capital, and since then he has colluded with the Dominion, my ‘peace-loving trading partner.’” He filled the phrase with scorn. “They plot to become the rulers of Parahumanity, in a misguided attempt to save the world, a duty that belongs solely to me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. You have no idea what forces have been set in motion, since the day the Source arrived to this world and started handing out its gifts willy-nilly, like some drunken or perhaps insane version of your Santa Claus. I do, I and a handful of others, except that, other than myself, they were all warped and driven mad by the truth. That is why it is my duty and my destiny to bring the world to heel, before it destroys itself, or is destroyed by those madmen.”
“I…” A sudden burst of pain on both sides of her head silenced her. Her implants tore free from their bone housing and floated away. “What are you doing?” she shouted, calling for her fiery shield.
The Emperor didn’t move or react, although she saw the Celestials surrounding the meeting tensing up at her hostile gesture. “I assure you, young lady, that this is not my doing. In fact, the energy signature of the force that just struck you is well-known to me, and to you: it belongs to your fellow Legionnaire, Nebiru. A talented fellow: he is nearly my equal in versatility, if not in raw power. Oh, and you might want to step back; your devices are about to…”
The explosions were bright and loud, and she felt the impacts even through her protective aura. The surrounding Celestials were in motion a fraction of a second later, and only a barked order from the Emperor saved Olivia from a barrage of Neo attacks. “What the hell was that?”
The Emperor laughed. “Oh, my dear Mrs. O’Brien! It appears Nebiru has saved you from Daedalus’ treachery, which means he has finally been exposed.” He smiled widely at her. “I will restrain m
y eager stallions. The Empire will start no wars this time around. Tell Lao that if he dares to attack, his Republic will serve as his funeral pyre. Let there be peace between us, so you may tend to your affairs. I believe you are going to be rather busy cleaning your own house.”
He laughed again.
Chapter Ten
Christine Dark
Catskill Mountains, New York, March 29, 2013
“They got out?”
Chastity nodded as she shut off the wrist-comm. “Condor wasn’t happy to hear from me when he returned your call, but he said as much. He also said they’d be arriving shortly to the manor, and that it’d be nice to have hot coffee waiting for them.”
“Guy’s too cheap to have a butler on call,” Mark said, but the grumbling was all for show. He was happy as a clam to hear his buddy was alive and well. He was even happy for Kestrel. Oh well, Christine was happy for her too. “Guess I’ll make coffee for everyone.”
“I’ll help you,” she offered. She felt so giddy he could have asked her to make him a sandwich and she wouldn’t have been terribly offended.
Neither of them really knew how to work the industrial size espresso machine Condor had, but Chastity Baal, after pointedly knocking to make sure they were making coffee and not whoopee, rescued them and ended up doing most of the brewing. A few minutes later Christine felt a flare of power she’d come to recognize as someone teleporting in; she guessed they’d arrived to the hangar and were making their way to the mansion proper. “They’re here,” she announced.
Armed with trays of coffee cups and munchies, they met the new arrivals in the big living room. It was some reunion. Condor and Kestrel and Janus, of course; John was still unconscious, which seemed to happen to him quite a bit, poor guy. Janus was carrying him this time. Lady Shi was tagging along, looking like she’d gone several rounds with Godzilla, but her aura was still nice and nauseatingly psychopathic. She had been helpful, but Christine knew that as soon as it was convenient the assassin would turn on them.
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