99 Gods: Betrayer

by Randall Farmer

  Dubuque left the stage where he had given his pronouncement, and the cable news talking heads began their discussion. Alt savagely turned off the television. “We were going to wait!”

  “Portland was edging toward tyranny, Alt. We had to proclaim the compact today, before she was lost to us,” War said.

  “Well, crap. You didn’t even give us a chance to send a representative to Dubuque to talk about a compromise.”

  “The emissary idea wouldn’t have worked,” War said. “However, done is done. We had no way of predicting what Dubuque would do. This was actually in his…”

  “Save it for the more gullible,” Alt said. He strode over to War’s tall warrior goddess projection and got eye to eye with her. “War, this closes off all our offensive options. You’ve turned Portland’s Helping Hands into the goddamned UN General Assembly. This is as good as surrender. This is utterly stupid.”

  “No surrender. This is a Cold War,” War said. “Yes, this closes off our offensive options; the Divine Compact weakens us offensively, to where we can’t even snarl our way into another Siege of Dubuque. On the other hand, the Supported of the Divine Compact can defend better because of the backing of the unity of the Compact, far stronger than the so-called unity of the Helping Hands political faction. However, trust me, the conflict isn’t over. Covert actions are quite possible.”

  “Covert actions which just happen to be our specialty,” Alt said. “Dammit, War, this puts the whole thing on our shoulders.”

  Exactly.

  This would make her potential betrayal of them even the more spectacular.

  “You’ll have help,” War said. “We will be able to train Supported to work in a covert fashion. But you and your Telepaths will be better.”

  The Telepaths would need help, because only a very special and highly improbable ass-kicking defeat would win this war.

  Only if War didn’t talk herself out of the betrayal, though. Unfortunately, she needed to betray her first, tonight. Her first betrayal wouldn’t lock her into the rest of the betrayals, but, nevertheless, this betrayal still hurt.

  She needed to neutralize the Indigo and give Dubuque a handle on them. If she didn’t, all paths led the Indigo to serving Portland, and if they did so, they would be able to prevent her from closing off the religious dystopia, the Portland led City of God.

  The angel said: 'This place is the end of heaven and earth: this has become a prison for the stars and the host of heaven. And the stars which roll over the fire are they which have transgressed the commandment of the Lord in the beginning of their rising, because they did not come forth at their appointed times. And He was wroth with them, and bound them till the time when their guilt should be consummated (even) for ten thousand years.'

  And Uriel said to me: 'Here shall stand the angels who have connected themselves with women, and their spirits assuming many different forms are defiling mankind and shall lead them astray into sacrificing to demons as gods, (here shall they stand,) till the day of the great judgment in which they shall be judged till they are made an end of. And the women also of the angels who went astray shall become sirens.' And I, Enoch, alone saw the vision, the ends of all things: and no man shall see as I have seen.

  -- The Book of Enoch 18, 14:16 and 19, 1:3

  “Were we supposed to all die here?”

  36. (Nessa)

  Steven Benoit, the academic Portland and Alt provided, fidgeted. “What’s the hold-up?” he said. Nessa glowered. The guy was completely normal, no Telepathic anything, no funky other anything, no Supported anything, just a standard normal person. She kept having the urge to do things to him: have him undress, pick his nose, or something. Ken wouldn’t let her. He even made her memorize his name to emphasize the fact they wouldn’t be putting Benoit at risk.

  “Nairobi’s taking his time,” Ken said. He wore a black suit today, black sunglasses and a black fedora. He hadn’t slept last night, and from what little Nessa found in his mind he had spent his time picking up items in the hotel and outside, using his psychometry on them, and talking to the objects about their past as if they were alive. Nessa had done her best to calm Ken down, making slow love to him in the morning to take his mind off his own mental voices. “It wouldn’t be right for a God to be seen as coming at the beck and call of mere mortals.”

  Mere mortals indeed, Nessa thought. She wished her back didn’t ache from the plane trip and her pregnancy, the latter making her hesitant to banish the pain. Worse, she had Javier doing the ‘are you there yet’ routine in her mind every hour on the hour. Alt remained antsy, but wouldn’t say why. Portland did need to rebuild her Angelic Host support, but nudging Nessa to work faster didn’t speed things up and only aggravated her. Made her want to let loose some temper.

  Which wouldn’t do, here. She leaned her mind back on the soft thoughts of the bodyguard entourage, all nicely Mindbound. They thought, they reacted, they waited. Soothing. Nessa had given up on trying to tell them apart or keep track of their names. Some were men. Some were women. The only one with any individual identity to Nessa was one Nessa remembered as Soft Hand Lady. She was one of those others, like Uffie, and she couldn’t forget Soft Hand Lady simply because Uffie would call her on her mistake later.

  Javier sent.

  Nessa asked Javier. Javier could initiate and maintain a telepathic conversation all the way around the planet, much better than cell phones, which had a distressing tendency to be difficult to use in other countries. She had watched Ken’s gyrations with them repeatedly. International calling codes. Signal incompatibilities. Fiddly details Nessa didn’t want to think about.

  Javier didn’t answer, chowing down on a bacon cheeseburger and sending the taste of it along telepathically. Nessa nearly puked.

  Nessa shook her head. Lorenzi had named his groups using utterly random words, as if he was some sort of other. Barf.

  Javier didn’t answer.

  Nessa asked. She liked having open channels of communications with Alt and his crew. She had hated it when they had shut her out because of her and Ken’s vague friendship and support of Satan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  <…?>

  Nessa vaguely noticed Ken had taken her elbow and now lead her toward Nairobi’s throne room.

 

  “Sit, sit,” Nairobi said. Today he met them in a formal meeting room, at the head of a big shiny table.

  They sat and Ken introduced Benoit, giving his credentials. Professor of this, professor of that, published this, published that, sat on this or that Think Tank’s board, advisor to some such Governor of some such large state, blah blah blah. Nessa, who wanted to vomit due to her precognitive hunches, took the time to do a complete mind probe on every probe-able mind in the area. One obvious answer to Alt’s sudden equality of danger meant the danger level here must have gone up. Danger here could explain her distress.

  She found several criminal minds, one of whom did Nairobi’s books. The creep was skimming from Nairobi! That took balls. Nessa looked closer but found nothing heroic about this guy or even very sinister. He worked for or helped run, Nessa wasn’t sure which, some such local tribe or minor ethnic group different from Nairobi’s. Said group outwardly supported Na
irobi but wanted Nairobi weakened monetarily, but not enough to reduce the political pull of said tribe or ethnic group.

  Nessa flagged the thug and went on, making sure none of the dangers she had found posed real threats to her and Ken. She didn’t find any. Most of Nairobi’s people didn’t even realize she and Ken existed.

  She bet, though, that if she exposed the thieving accountant, Nairobi would look more kindly on them. How should she expose the crook, though? Well, since Nairobi emanated ‘businessman’ vibes today, she should copy him, right? Yes, she decided. This meant a report. How, though, could she write a report? Illusions. The report didn’t have to last. She could get the detail on an illusion fine enough to put about a hundred and twenty words on a piece of illusory paper, have the paper still readable, and create the illusion of multiple pieces of paper. She would create the illusion of them all bound into a report. The only question was how much of what she wrote in the report she would be able to keep in her memory. The answer was: not much.

  However, an ample memory resource sat right here at the table. Herr Doktor Professor Benoit had millions of words of various data memorized in his incredibly complex mind. Look. There. Short term memory, just waiting for Nessa to use. She composed the report in her mind, keeping all the words in Benoit’s short-term memory. When she finished, she had his mind play the report back to her.

  Her report sucked. Time to edit. She did. She played the memory back again, and this time the report sounded like a passable composition. The doc at least had all the details on the thieving accountant’s dirty tricks. Finished, she linked the words in Benoit’s mind to her illusion, stuck a fancy title on the report, and opened her eyes.

  Poor Professor Benoit looked a bit pale. He had a headache as well. Fancy that.

  “…and this is the Divine Compact itself,” Ken said.

  Nairobi read Portland’s professionally-done document. “I find this interesting. However, I’m not in a position to be the first non-North American to sign this. I’m well-disposed, though, to consider the Compact once Portland and her major allies solidify their position on this issue. Until the Compact gets more support, if you are willing, Professor, we can consider this the backing on your employment contract.”

  Nessa lowered her eyebrows and thought. Nairobi had agreed, kinda sorta, but she didn’t pick out anything meaningful out of what he had actually said. Must be a politician trick.

  “Nairobi, sir, I also have this to offer, a gift,” Nessa said. She stood and handed her illusory report to him. Ken’s mouth hung open for a moment. She should have told him she was doing this. She had forgotten.

  “I apologize, I wasn’t paying close enough attention to my partner, who isn’t having one of her better days,” Ken said. Uffie covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh.

  Nessa didn’t think this was at all funny. “Hey, I am trying to be of some help.”

  Nairobi looked over Nessa’s report and looked up at her. “Miss, may I ask what this is?”

  “A report about a thieving accountant.”

  “No, I mean ‘what is this made of?’ This isn’t paper.”

  “Oh, sorry, let me tighten this up a bit. Now is this more like paper?”

  Nairobi’s eyes boggled. “This is an illusion?”

  Nessa nodded.

  Nairobi focused on the report again. “Consider this a personal gift from me to you, to let you know we’re on the side of the good guys and want to help where we can,” Nessa said.

  “I appreciate the information, although I already knew Ahmed was skimming. However, I didn’t realize he was skimming this much. A canny trick – a little clumsy skimming serving as cover for major graft. I thank you, Nessa.” Nairobi put down the report, radiating ‘queasy’. Nessa couldn’t figure out why.

  “Thank you, Nessa,” Ken said.

  Nessa sat, grumpy. Ken had a hard time with her spontaneity at times. No, most of the time.

  “I think we can dispense with the rest, then,” Nairobi said, nervous. “Uffie, you’re free.”

  Uffie smiled and stood. “Nothing else?”

  “No. You are now on your own.”

  Uffie walked over to Nessa, who stood to give her friend a hug.

 

  Javier interrupted Ken’s telepathic message by a scream of . Nessa stopped, as did Uffie. Uffie looked like she had run into a brick wall, Ken’s telekinesis at work.

  Nessa asked, peeved.

 

  Nessa saw red and readied a mental blast that would leave Nairobi in a million pieces.

  Ken said.

  She ever so wanted to splatter Nairobi.

  “Nairobi, we’ve just been informed that Uffie has a dangerous trap on her.”

  “Are you accusing me?” Nairobi said.

  “No,” Ken said. “Still, there is a trap. I can sense the trap, now that I know to look. This would suck the life out of Nessa or me if we touched Uffie.”

  Ken had been studying 99 God magic for weeks, learning from the magic covering their Supported guards. The ability to learn came from his psychometric ability, which allowed him to touch things and pick up mental images of their past. Now he could pick up what magic did.

  “I had nothing to do with this,” Nairobi said, radiating truth.

  Amazing. Nessa relaxed, realizing she wouldn’t have to blast Nairobi to cinders, or at least try to blast Nairobi to cinders. Without the anger, she realized how iffy her attack might have been. And how sick she was. She wanted to pass out. Nessa sent. Aloud, she said: “If you remove your divine whatsis from Uffie, we should be able to see which whatsis isn’t yours.”

  Nairobi took a few moments to figure out what Nessa meant. Once he did, he concentrated and removed all of his divine whatsis tricks ( Ken sent; Nessa ignored him) from Uffie.

  Even Nessa sensed some leftovers on Uffie after Nairobi finished.

  “Verona,” Ken said. His water glass shattered and Nessa’s chair skittered around under her, Ken’s anger-loosed teek working its own.

  “Yes. I entertained a Verona ambassador two days after our last meeting,” Nairobi said. “I’m ashamed to admit that yes, I didn’t notice his betrayal at the time. If you want, I can remove the trap from Uffie.”

  “We don’t mind at all,” Ken said. He cracked his knuckles, raising dust throughout Nairobi’s room.

  “Get this crap off of me!” Uffie said. “The nerve of that God!”

  Nairobi concentrated for far too long, in Nessa’s estimation. Nairobi took just under a minute to strip the trap off Uffie.

  “After due deliberation, I find the Divine Compact far more inviting,” Nairobi said. Some sense, finally.

  Nessa picked up some telepathic sideband chatter to Ken, from Javier. “Divine Nairobi,” she said, “one of our Supported, uh, uh, Loser Lady #1, can call in a projection of Portland if you wish to talk details.” Loser Lady #1 frowned from beneath her black mourning veil.

  “I accept your offer,” Nairobi said to Ken, baffled by Nessa’s name for the woman. “Perhaps you can rest here, relax, enjoy my hospitality, while Portland and I discuss this. I find I owe many debts of gratitude to you and Nessa.” The ‘Nessa’ sounded a bit forced, in Nessa’s opinion, and there had been a noticeable pause before the ‘and Nessa’.

  “Thank you, but we must refuse. We have another mission, another plane to catch. Lives are at stake,” Ken said.

  “Then, with my permission, you may be on your way,” Nairobi said. “I wouldn’t want to stand between you and any of your goals.”

  Smart man, Nessa thought.

  “This isn’t one of your good days, is it?” Uffie said.

  Nessa frowned. “Well, I’m exhausted and ready to pass out, n
erves and premonitions I think, but it’s not a bad one. I’m actually not having memory fugues, psychotic attacks, or…” She noticed right sock was on her right hand. It winked at her. “…hmm. Okay, that’s one. Perhaps this is worse than I thought.” Pause. “Ken’s not having a good day, either.”

  “Any idea why? Are you and Ken afraid I’m going to be a problem?”

  “I was hoping you’d save us from this nasty precipice we’ve been running towards for weeks and weeks now,” Nessa said. “The precipice is getting close and I’m sure it’s messing up my mind and my body.”

  “Oh darn,” Uffie said. “I’ve been sensing something dark and dangerous stalking me and I was hoping the rescue would save me.”

  “Crap,” Nessa said. She looked around. Airplane, again. At least they flew at night, given the darkness and lack of sun and all that. Which did mean memory fugues, but she swore she and Uffie had been chattering for hours and hours about what she and Uffie had been through since the 99 Gods appeared. Perhaps this wasn’t a memory fugue but an inattention state. She forced memories and managed to pull out of her own mind they were flying from Nairobi, Kenya to Ankara, Turkey. They were over the eastern Mediterranean; they would be landing in a little more than an hour.

  Definitely nothing worse than an inattention state.

  “One thing, though, Uffie. I’m surprised you haven’t called me on my oops with Soft Hand Lady, or on the fact Ken’s figured out a bit about what’s going on.”

  “I was saving the first for when you were more coherent, and I didn’t realize the latter.” Uffie sighed. “I guess it was inevitable, with you two married. At some point I’m going to have to give him the talk, although he’s not going to like what I say. He’s not one my people will ever trust, though he isn’t much of a danger to us, either.”