by Jaspre Bark
Johnny went quiet for a moment. Moosehead had seen that look on his face before, with his jaw clenched and his eyes burning with determination.
"You know what this means," he said at last. "If we're going to bring Kit in and collect seven hundred thousand credits, we're going to have to take down the whole Miltonian government."
"Aye," said Middenface. "And fight some of oor oldest comrades alongside a bunch o' norms and misfit mutants."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
REVOLUTION NOW
"Pardon me for staring," said the Consoler. "You look so much like my brother, as he would look now. So much like the man I once was myself." He passed a tired flipper-like appendage over his eyes and sighed. "I know it was foolish of me, but when I thought you were Kit, when I thought he had come here to find me, I allowed myself to hope. I thought we could put the past behind us, at last. Now you tell me he was our enemy all along. Minister McGuffin, the man most responsible for all of Miltonia's troubles, is actually my own twin brother!"
"Kit was McGuffin," Johnny reminded him. "Now he's Nose Job."
"I should have seen it," the Consoler lamented.
Johnny had never seen the Consoler like this. During their previous encounters, he had been so composed, but now he was completely miserable.
"I should have realised when I couldn't feel our psychic bond. And this new ability of his, to alter the appearances of other mutants... It's so like my own."
"You weren't the only one fooled by Kit's tricks," muttered the man in Identi Kit's body. Johnny still found it hard to think of him as Moosehead. It wasn't just his appearance; he also seemed so subdued, like his old fire had been extinguished. "I knew what he could do, and I still let him play me. He easily manipulated me and sent me after you. I guess that's what five years in prison will do to you: it dulls the senses by teaching you not to think too hard if you want to get by."
"I cannot apologise enough for what my brother has done to you, Mr McGuffin," the Consoler said quietly.
"The important thing now," said Johnny, "is to see that Identi Kit pays for his crimes."
Doubletalk, the fourth and final occupant of the Consoler's hut, had kept his own counsel so far. It was likely, thought Johnny, that he felt embarrassed by his boss's discomfort. Now, however, his eyes widened in excitement and his two mouths blurted: "Are you saying you've reconsidered? You'll join us after all?"
Johnny chose his words carefully. "It seems we have the same goals."
He had thought long and hard about his next move as he and Middenface had led Moosehead back to the Salvationist camp. He could have kicked himself for being so close to the real Kit without realising it, but they had been unarmed and were watched over by the menacing presence of General Rising. Even if they could get that close to Nose Job again, it would be no simple matter to take him into custody. Too many people would give their lives for the man they thought he was.
It was dark when they reached the entrance to the volcano; it was the one they had first come across. The guards regarded them with a mixture of awe and resentment, but let them pass without any argument. Someone had evidently warned them that the S/D agents may return with a prisoner.
At the end of the entrance passageway - the last point at which they could talk without being overheard - Johnny had taken a deep breath and told his partner what he had concluded. Middenface wasn't happy, but he had bowed to Johnny's tactical expertise. He had drawn the line, however, at having another conference with the Consoler.
"Ah'm afeared he might talk ma ears off, Johnny. Ah'm gonna go see if there's any o' that booze left fer us. Ah reckon we deserve a drop now."
Johnny allowed Middenface his escape. It was the least he could do after all that he'd been through recently.
The Consoler had been asleep but Johnny had persuaded Doubletalk to wake him up. Refusing the offer of purple tea, Johnny had Moosehead repeat his sorry tale, and watched as the Salvationists' leader sunk ever deeper into a pall of gloom.
"We need to talk tactics," said Johnny brusquely. "I need to know how many people you've got, and what resources other than the ones we've seen."
"You have seen everything," said the Consoler. "It is a small army, but we are growing day by day. In a few short months-"
"We don't have months. You know the damage Kit did when he was posing as Moosehead. Now, he's the president's mouthpiece and quite possibly the most powerful person on this world. We have to act now."
"No!" The Consoler said sharply. "I understand your motives, Mr Alpha. You told me yourself that you have no interest in our politics. You come to us now because you need our help. Well, I tell you, I will not let you take my people into a war for which we are ill-prepared, simply because you are impatient for your bounty."
Johnny smarted at the harsh words. They stung all the more because they were true. Even so, he wasn't prepared to give up. "The longer you take to build up your forces, the longer you give Kit to do the same," he insisted. "Rising is slowly zeroing in on your location. He's already sent us after you. Do you think he'll stop at that?"
"The Consoler's right. Under his leadership, we've achieved so much in so short a time. If we act too hastily, it will all be for nothing."
No sooner did Johnny realise that only one of Doubletalk's mouths had spoken than the other chimed in with a completely different point of view. "We've waited long enough. There may be few of us, but we're ready. Delay any longer and our people will lose the will to fight."
"This is not up for discussion, gentlemen," said the Consoler darkly. "It was agreed that I, and I alone, would decide when we are ready, and that moment has not yet come. Mr Alpha, you know how happy I would be for you and your partner to join our cause, but you must realise that you must also abide by our timetable. If you can see a faster way to achieve your aims, then do as you must without us. I will not lead my people to slaughter at your whim." He hung his misshapen head and added quietly, "I have done them enough harm."
"That's typical of the Consoler," said Elephant Head after Johnny had told her the news. "He's a good man, but an idealist. He formed the Salvationists to offer refuge to those who were mistreated by Leadbetter and his cronies."
"By Kit," Johnny reminded her, "not Leadbetter."
She nodded brusquely. "It took us months to make him see that this is war, and you don't win wars by hiding in caves and sending polite letters to the media. Even now he talks about fighting, but I always knew he'd bulk at the idea when it came to it." She clenched her fists in frustration and Johnny smiled to himself.
A little groan emerged from the space between the crates on which they sat. Middenface lay there, a wet towel draped over his face. He claimed to be just "resting his eyes" after the all-night party he had instigated - the party that had drained every drop of liquor from the camp.
"Is that how most of you feel?" asked Johnny.
"Many of us. You saw the excitement when you and your friend turned up. We thought this was it; that it was finally time to get out of this cave and do something! We're beginning to fragment, to turn against each other. Our worst enemy isn't Leadbetter's government anymore; it's boredom. People are starting to say that if the Consoler won't act, they will."
"The terrorist attacks in Clacton Fuzzville? The hoverbus bomb?"
Elephant Head's eyes clouded. "The official word is that they were faked by Lead... umm, Kit himself. Unofficially... I don't know. It's not the sort of thing you can talk about openly."
"If you were in charge," said Johnny, "what would you do?"
She answered without hesitation. "You saw the immigration camp. We've been watching it for weeks. The Consoler says we need to learn more, but every day the reports are the same. We know the camp's routine to the second. We'll never be more ready to make our move than we are now."
"And when you've liberated the camp?"
"We'll have the numbers to make a real difference. We could storm the presidential palace!"
"With bows and arr
ows?"
Elephant Head scowled. "Liberating the camp would be the first step. After that, we'd take stock of the situation and see how many recruits we've got and what skills they have, and then we'd plan our next move. If nothing else, it'd give morale a boost."
But it'd get us no closer to Kit, thought Johnny. "Why do you think the Consoler won't give the order? I didn't have him pegged as a coward," Johnny said.
"Guilt!" said Elephant Head firmly. "I believe he'd give his life for Miltonia, but to sacrifice other people's lives and send them to their deaths? I just don't think he can. And you can't fight a war without casualties."
"Last night he said he'd 'done enough harm'."
"The Consoler sees himself as a martyr, a pariah. You told me his brother can reshape his own DNA. Well, ask yourself, why can't the Consoler do that, too? Why does he have to bear the mutations he takes from others?"
Johnny frowned. "You're saying he could look normal if he wanted to?"
"I don't think it's that simple. He told us his powers and his brother's were the same, but they developed in different ways. I don't think the Consoler consciously makes himself suffer."
"But subconsciously," muttered Johnny.
Elephant Head glanced around to make sure nobody was listening, then leaned in closer to him and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "He told me something once. The Consoler was a criminal, a gangster. It's true," she insisted as Johnny's eyes betrayed his disbelief. "Back on some dustball of a planet where he grew up. He ran the biggest, most vicious gang there. Went to prison for it. He said the experience changed him."
"I think I'm beginning to see," said Johnny.
"The Consoler's brother looked up to him. It was he who introduced Kit to a life of crime, and he's had to live with that ever since. He blames himself for all the crimes that Kit commits, and he's spent the whole of his adult life trying to atone for it."
"By fighting against injustice on Miltonia," concluded Johnny. "Only he's just learned that everything he's fighting against, that was all Kit's doing, too."
"I'm disappointed," said the Consoler. "I am very disappointed. I invited you into my home, I have treated you as allies and this is how you repay me."
It was late afternoon and Middenface and Johnny were back in the Consoler's hut. Middenface's hangover had cleared up, but he almost wished it hadn't because at least it had blotted out the tedium of being underground for so long. It had been his fondest hope that the Consoler had summoned them to give the word, to say it was time to prepare for battle. But, of course, he had only wanted to talk. Again.
"I don't know what you mean," said Johnny.
"No? Then perhaps you can explain the rumours I have been hearing all day, that you are poised to lead the Salvationists to victory. You have been fomenting dissent; turning my people against me for your own purposes."
"We've been talking to them, that's all. And they've been asking us to help them, not the other way round. They're sick of waiting."
Amen to that, thought Middenface.
"And I share their impatience," the Consoler insisted. "Of course I want to see an end to Miltonia's troubles, but to act prematurely would be worse than not to act at all. We are our world's last chance, Mr Alpha. We cannot afford to fail."
"Who said anything about failing?" said Johnny. "I've been talking to Elephant Head. We've been drawing up plans to attack the immigration camp."
"We need more people, more training and more resources."
"We can do it now. We can bust that camp wide open, Consoler, with the minimum of casualties."
"But there will be casualties. People will die on both sides."
"Of course they will!"
"Innocents will be caught in the crossfire. I don't know if I can be responsible for that. I don't know if I can bear the blood on my hands," the Consoler admitted.
"So, what's your plan?" challenged Johnny. "To talk about change but not act on it? How many more camps are there, Consoler? How many more are being built each day? Word is that people are dying out there through malnutrition, exposure and mistreatment. But that's okay with you, is it? Their blood doesn't matter? You said yourself that if you let these things happen, you share responsibility for them. How many more deaths, Consoler?"
Middenface let out a cheer at Johnny's impassioned words and then wished he hadn't as all eyes turned towards him. He looked away with an embarrassed shrug. As Johnny and the Consoler locked stares again, Middenface exchanged a chagrined glance with Doubletalk. Like him, the Consoler's adviser was reduced to watching and waiting for the outcome of this contest of wills. Middenface was backing his partner to win, of course.
The Consoler was already on the ropes. He looked tired and far less sure of himself than normal. "I need to think about this," he pleaded. "The information you brought me last night has changed everything."
"So, you know who your enemy is now," said Johnny. "That should make your decision easier, not more difficult. It makes you even more responsible for what's happening on Miltonia, and you need to put a stop to it!"
It was clear from the Consoler's resentful glare that he knew what Johnny was trying to do. That made the ploy no less effective, however.
"I can't help thinking," the Consoler said, "that if I could only see my brother, speak to him..."
"Has talking to Kit ever helped in the past?" asked Johnny, mercilessly.
"Our psychic bond used to be so strong. When he was hurt, I felt his pain, and vice versa. We were inseparable. Then, Kit changed. No, that's not right. It was I who changed."
"Kit doesn't want to talk," said Johnny.
Middenface had expected him to take advantage of his foe's weakness and go in for the kill. Instead, Johnny had softened his voice as if in sympathy. He would never get the hang of this diplomacy business, Middenface thought.
"He sent Moosehead here to assassinate you, and then when he failed to do the job, he sent us," Johnny continued. "If you hadn't been so well-hidden and well-guarded, we'd have had you trussed up and halfway back to Clacton Fuzzville before we even smelled a rat."
"Still, I have to try."
To Middenface's surprise, Johnny nodded, seeming to accept the point. "Then I have a proposal to put to you."
"One that ends, no doubt, with my brother in your custody."
"It isn't just about that anymore," said Johnny with quiet anger. "Leonard Leadbetter was a Mutant War hero and a colleague of mine. It's bad enough that Kit took his dream of equality and perverted it. Think how he must feel, confined to that vat: his senses working but unable to communicate; watching as your brother runs this world as he pleases while claiming to speak for him. And I was there, with Middenface. We were standing beside him, taken in by that usurper's lies, and he couldn't reach us, couldn't warn us. He must have been screaming inside!"
"Very well," the Consoler said wearily. "Tell me your plan and I will give it my due consideration. That is, if I am to have a say in the matter."
"Nobody's turned against you," said Johnny. "You command a great deal of respect around here. Your people would follow you to hell and back if you asked them to. They're just waiting for the order."
The Consoler nodded and smiled sadly.
"Does this mean we've got whit we wanted, Johnny?" Middenface piped up. "Braw!"
Johnny slept soundly that night, but he was one of the few who did. He woke up four hours before dawn to the same sounds to which he had dozed off: the whisper of hushed conversation and the clatter of activity, much of it to no end. It was as if the camp had been charged with electricity from the moment the Consoler had called all its occupants together to explain what was about to happen.
The Salvationists' leader had given a short speech, mostly emphasising the fact that he didn't expect anyone to do anything that made them feel uncomfortable. Then he handed over the reigns to Elephant Head who had given an expert mission briefing. It was concise and yet so thorough that Johnny hadn't felt the need to interrupt once.
"I've waited a long time for this, Johnny," he said stubbornly. "Now the wind's blowing my way again at last. Trust me. Even in this body I still got a nose for these things." Johnny smiled at that but the smile froze as Moosehead continued. "Anyway, who's gonna be fool enough to mess with us? You, me and Middenface: brave heroes of the Mutant War, and the meanest, toughest agents the Doghouse ever produced. This is gonna be like old times, eh?"
And in that moment, Johnny was transported back to his youth, to his home world, to a time when he had fought not for money, but for simple survival.
It was the atmosphere in the camp that reminded him of those days, although the circumstances now were very different. Still, it was the same heady mixture of apprehension and excitement, of fear and camaraderie. Suddenly, he felt a strong kinship with each and every one of the Consoler's guerrillas. It was the bond that came from knowing they were about to fight together, and possibly die together, and that they would have to rely on each other implicitly. It occurred to him that, terrible though the Mutant War had been, he had never made better friends than on the blood-soaked fields of Earth.
Only, back then, he hadn't been the one sending those friends to their deaths.
He felt a new respect for the mutant generals who had had to make such decisions on a daily basis: brave leaders like Clacton Fuzz, the Ooze, the Torso from Newcastle and Middenface McNulty.
He found Middenface in his element surrounded by admiring Salvationists as they begged him to recount details of his exploits and impart a few last-minute pointers in the art of dishing out laldy. It hit Johnny once again that many of the eager audience were norms, but norms who knew what it was like to be persecuted.