Ranger

by William Stacey

  "What do you mean, 'mutations'?"

  "Think demonic bears that can pull off a vehicle's doors."

  "Jesus."

  "Even here," said Helena, "where we're relatively protected, time is against us. The dam has an inexhaustible fuel source, but each year, more mollusks block the pipes feeding the turbines. It's becoming a challenge to scour them clean—and that's without those Children of Gaia idiots sabotaging the infrastructure."

  Alex leaned forward. "Who?"

  "Nature fanatics," said McKnight, "the same hard-core ecoterrorists that used to spike trees or burn mining equipment. Now they've become much more violent. They think we are responsible for the damage done to the planet."

  "What do you mean, 'we'?"

  "'We' as in humanity." McKnight sat back and waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, they understand the dark elves attacked us, but they claim we drove the gentle elves to violence for the good of the forest creatures. They insist humans have been so destructive that, in our absence, the planet is still in upheaval. They say Earth is better off without us. All of us."

  "Are they wrong?" Alex asked.

  "The dark elves attacked us," said McKnight. "Maybe we are flawed, but we'd have sorted ourselves out without destroying the planet. Eventually, we'd have fixed everything—climate change, overpopulation… wars. It's possible."

  It sounded like delusion, but Alex didn't challenge him. "What is it you plan to do, exactly?"

  "Even if the children weren't sick," said Helena, "this planet will be unsustainable for decades. The cities are flooded, the petroleum refineries and chemical plants are burning—hell, there are pockets of gas in the Gulf of Mexico and Kuwait that may burn for hundreds of years." She sighed. "And even where there weren't fires, the metal storage containers filled with toxic chemicals leaked into the water supply. There are even clouds of hydrogen cyanide in the air in Texas-Louisiana following the trade winds."

  "Then there's the thirty thousand intact nuclear warheads out there," said McKnight. "And don't think the Children of Gaia haven't already tried to get their hands on one."

  "You think these ecoterrorists would try to set off a nuclear bomb in the only city left on the Earth?" Alex asked. But the moment he voiced his question, he knew the answer was yes. People couldn't surprise him anymore.

  "We can't stay, Alex," insisted McKnight, "not anymore. The planet can't support us. We will be the last generation."

  "We need to move," said Helena.

  "And you think Faerum is the right place?" he asked in disbelief. "Did you not read my recon reports?"

  "We don't know," said McKnight. "No one knows what happened on Faerum after Elizabeth destroyed the Culling Machine. But we do know what that world doesn't have—hundreds of burned-out reactors, petrochemical factories, poisoned ground water, and a fatal overdose of mana-radiation altering the DNA of our children. Our choice is simple: relocate humanity or face extermination in a generation."

  Alex looked about the room, seeing the same acceptance on their faces. "How? Kargin said these… gateway rigs can only do local portals."

  "A new phenomenon… appeared following Elizabeth's attack on the Culling Machine," said Helena, "something profoundly different and unimaginably powerful. We didn't notice at first because we were so focused on our own survival."

  "What phenomenon?"

  Kargin cleared his throat. "My father never intended the Culling Machine to hold so much raw mana. The backlash when Elizabeth destroyed it was… well, there are no words. Something happened, something new. I think it sent reverberations cascading through the Red Ether between both worlds."

  "I don't know what that means."

  "None of us do," answered Helena. "But the simplest explanation is that the machine's destruction was like a depth charge underwater. The shock wave travels farther and does more damage than seems possible. Here, it ruptured the inter-dimensional space-time continuum, creating unintentional quantum feedback loops."

  Alex glared at her. "Jesus Christ, Helena, speak English."

  "There are unintended, natural rifts opening between Faerum and Earth. So far, all have been centered on prior dark-elf incursion sites, where they erected their towers or brought their invading armies through."

  "Ley lines," said Kargin. "Cosmic power focuses. Think of them as the penetrable part of the skin between the two worlds."

  "Sounds like bullshit."

  "We missed the first ones," continued Helena. "But once we realized what was happening, we learned how to predict them. Gamma spiking and lightning storms are the early indicators."

  "Through some rifts," said McKnight, "we've seen Faerum wildlife cross over on their own—although this was the first time something as large as a dragon accidentally came through."

  "Great dragons don't accidentally go anywhere," insisted Kargin. "They're not animals. They're entities of unfathomable magical power, and they're far cleverer and more devious than anyone in this room."

  "Point understood," said Helena. "The rifts are temporary. They degrade and close on their own, sometimes within hours, but other times they've remained stable for several days. We've sent UAVs with keying devices through them."

  "Why?"

  "To find my people," said Kargin. "Deep Terlingas, the last remaining dwarven city. If we can find coordinates close enough to the city, we can send a contact team—you, me, and a handful of others to make contact with my people."

  "So far, the other rifts were unsuitable," said McKnight. "Several even opened over Faerum's ocean, which makes sense. Faerum is a single large landmass, like Australia. Most of the world is water. But that changed today. With the new measurements from the Rift in British Columbia, we can send a team within striking distance of Kargin's people."

  "To what end?"

  "To get help," McKnight answered. "We've moved the Gateway Machine here from the Magic Kingdom. With Kargin's help, we've even rebuilt the Jump Tube. The dam will provide more than enough power to send a team to the coordinates of the keying device on the UAV. From there, one of the mag-sens will go with you with a gateway rig. You can make the trip to Deep Terlingas in two or three quick jumps, less than an hour."

  "Kargin's people lost their war with the dark elves. That's why they're hiding. How are they going to help anyone, let alone all of us? How do you expect to move five hundred thousand people?"

  "We don't," said Helena. "Not right away, at least."

  "Do you know how the colonists survived their first winter in Jamestown, Virginia, in 1607?" McKnight asked.

  "The natives kept them alive."

  McKnight nodded. "And in order for us to stay alive, we'll need help."

  "That evil witch Tuatha culled my people first," said Kargin. "So we've got that in common. We can be your natives."

  Alex snorted. "Oscar didn't tell you what happened to those helpful natives in Jamestown after the colonists no longer needed them, did he?"

  Kargin cocked his head, glancing at McKnight.

  "That won't happen, not this time," McKnight insisted. "We're not the same people anymore."

  "The monster you know," said Kargin with a sigh. "The fae seelie will destroy my people if they find Deep Terlingas—and they will find it in time. If I can barter an alliance between manlings and dwarves… well, we can save each other."

  "If," stressed Alex.

  "The contact team will bring a second keying device and several solar-powered laptops containing blueprints to build a second Gateway Machine," said Helena. "Once Kargin has bartered an alliance, you can activate the device, and we'll bring over teams of technicians and supplies."

  "You're planning on building another Gateway Machine?"

  "It's the only way to create a stable gateway," said Helena.

  "I don't understand."

  "I helped build the new Gateway Machine and Jump Tube," said Kargin. "Marvelous technology. Helped me create the Shatkur Crystals and Gateway-Rigs for Snow White and Long Bow. But the hard, pointy thrust of wh
at I'm saying is that if we build a second Gateway Machine in Deep Terlingas, I can configure it to work in tandem with the machine here, the same as the suits."

  "With two machines linked," said Helena, "we can keep them open indefinitely. Think about it, Alex, a nearly permanent portal between worlds. The children can breathe clean air. Maybe Cassie can even cure them. We can bring everything we need to start over again: supplies, technology, animals, grain—"

  "And weapons," said Kargin. "Enough firepower to help my people hold back the fae seelie. Just imagine how dangerous a dwarven gyro-dragon would be with 30mm miniguns firing depleted uranium rounds… maybe a rocket or three." Kargin grinned maniacally as he rubbed his large hands together.

  "Everything but nuclear weapons and other banned weapons," said McKnight. "If Helena is right, and the interaction of radiation and mana is mutating the children, we'd just be making the same mistakes again."

  "Wait," said Alex, shaking his head. "You're missing something important, the power necessary to run the Gateway Machine. That's why we're sitting in a dam, why Task Force Devil built the power station over the Peace River. There's no way Kargin's people can generate that much electricity."

  "Don't ye worry about power," said Kargin. "I'm a technomancer. And so is Ylra," he said, sharing a smile with her, "in all but title. Besides, my people are fair hands at building complex things. We work with magic, but what we build works forever." To punctuate his point, he lifted his fighting ax, and its broad, sharp head turned red-hot in a single moment. "We'll run the damned machine, just you watch. I've already got me ideas."

  "Which brings us back to you, Major," said McKnight. "You're the last member of Task Force Devil, a former Special Forces officer who's actually operated on Faerum."

  "And," said Kargin with a smile, "you can pay me back that favor you promised me six years ago. Our people will be kin, like you and me."

  "The dark elves didn't just murder us. They stole our world, our future," said Helena bitterly. "It's only fair we take theirs."

  They watched him, the hope shining on their faces.

  All Alex saw was his son's grave.

  He shook his head. "You said it yourself, Oscar—I'm not the man I was, not even a shadow of that man. I couldn't save… I can't save anyone. I'm sorry, no."

  Disappointment flooded through McKnight's face, and he sank in upon himself, looking even older. "Major, you're exactly the man I'm looking for."

  Alex stood, holding Witch-Bane by the sheath, staring them all down. Yet despite his defiance, he felt thickness in his throat. "Thanks for your help up north, but my war is over. I'll die on the same world as my son."

  "Alex, please. Consider everything I've said, then—"

  "I wish you luck, Oscar, but I'm going to take a shower, check on my wife, then get stinking drunk. After that, I'll go on an extended walkabout, maybe even head back to Newfoundland. I guess I'll have the rock all to myself now."

  McKnight watched him for several moments, his disappointment clear, but then he nodded sadly. "I understand, Major… Alex. Thank you for your service. Heather will arrange to bring you back to the base then fly you anywhere you want to go."

  "No gateways this time, Oscar?"

  "Military use only."

  Alex rested his sword against his shoulder and walked out.

  14

  The officer's mess was just like every other military bar Alex had gotten drunk in, dimly lit with country music playing over tinny speakers. It was nearly empty, still early afternoon, and Alex sat on a wooden stool, his feet resting on a brass rail as he nursed his tequila.

  The lone bartender, a peroxide blonde with her cleavage barely constrained by a too-tight sleeveless pink T-shirt, had given up trying to engage him in conversation. After visiting Leela in the base hospital, Alex wanted to drink not chat. She was fine, thank God, but now that the danger was past, the chasm between them was as wide as ever. Dr. Ireland was planning on releasing her shortly, and Leela had muttered something about getting some sleep in a real bed, which Alex took to mean she wanted him to leave.

  A flat-screen television affixed above the bar played local news—everything was local these days—commentators discussing predicted food growth for the quarter. The discussion was heated, with McKnight's name mentioned more than once, and not flatteringly. It seemed not everyone thought the chairman a hero.

  How quickly they turn on you, Oscar.

  Heather had arranged quarters for him, with clean clothing, blue jeans, a green polo shirt, and wonder of wonders—new underwear and socks. He had left his weapons—except Witch-Bane, which leaned against the brass railing near his feet—in his quarters. This wasn't the North, and he had lived on enough military bases to understand the MPs would lose their shit if he walked about with weapons, especially given the heightened security on the base. It seemed their eco-terrorists, the ridiculous-sounding Children of Gaia, were a valid threat and responsible for some deaths. He sipped his tequila, marveling at the stupidity of fighting when there were so few people left.

  He waved his nearly empty shot glass at the bartender, who nodded and refilled it. The base, and Boulder City, operated on a chit system, with everyone working for credits they could use to buy goods and services—like tequila, not that there'd ever be a shortage of booze in a world without people. Heather had given Alex his own chit card to purchase whatever he wanted while he was here.

  When he left, he'd toss it in the garbage along with the rest of humanity.

  A bell over the door tinkled. The wooden floor behind him squeaked in protest, and he saw Kargin reflected in the bar's mirror before he hopped onto a stool beside Alex, his feet not quite reaching the brass rail. "Gladys." He waved at the bartender.

  A large smile lit up her face, and she took an oversized silver beer mug from beneath the counter and filled it with draft beer until foam spilled over the top. "Ylra know you're here?"

  "She's my apprentice, not my boss."

  "Keep tellin' yourself that, hon." She left them alone.

  Kargin sipped his beer, the silence heavy.

  "I'm sorry," Alex whispered, staring into his shot glass. "I made a promise and—"

  Kargin clapped him on the shoulder. "Not 'nuther word. I release you from your oath. Never shoulda asked, forcin' you to give it while the queen was culling your people. In my defense, I was a wee bit desperate. Besides, Lee is going. Good man, as good a warrior as you, I'd wager."

  "Lee Costner?"

  "Aye. Cassie won't be too pleased, but women never are when the men-folk do men-folk stuff."

  "Lee and Cassie?"

  "Married, with a li’l un. A girl, as cute as a redcap but…"

  "But she's a ghost?"

  Kargin inclined his head, his expression somber. "Worse, 'cause she's a mage like her mother. Her symptoms are stronger."

  "A mage? Really? How old?"

  "Four."

  "I've never heard of a mag-sens that young."

  "Only a handful survive the change, those that are strong—or lucky."

  Noah's face flashed through Alex's memory, and he changed the subject. "When you going?"

  "Tomorrow. Already used my crowns to teach Lee, Boko, and the others how to speak Empire Common and Dwarvish—just like I did for you and Leela in Doig River."

  "That fast, huh?"

  "Aye. McKnight says he doesn't want to wait, but…" Kargin paused, glancing to make sure no one else had entered the bar and that the bartender was too far away to hear him. He lowered his voice. "But the old man's hold on the council isn't what it was even a year ago, and he knows if we don't go now, his rivals might move against him, stop the mission."

  "Rivals? What rivals?"

  "Politics, Alex, politics. And McKnight's enemies are gaining power, not just the Children of Gaia. There are them on the council who'd be thrilled if no one ever returned to Faerum. They think the ghost-children can be healed… with enough research."

  "And you don't?"

 
; "I believe Cassie. This world has turned sour on your kind. Might as well come live on mine."

  "That's neighborly of you," Alex said and drank another mouthful of tequila. "But what if your brothers and sisters aren't so welcoming?"

  Kargin grunted, downed the last of his beer, and motioned for the bartender to bring him another. Only Ylra drank more beer than Kargin. He waited until the bartender moved away again before speaking. "They will. They need allies. Deep Terlingas has only lasted this long because the fae seelie don't know it exists. That can't last."

  "And how is that?"

  "Location. It's in a desert called the Char. Fae don't like the desert, too hot for the prissy elves, but we dwarves can live anywhere, and the city is buried beneath a mesa, underground."

  "A mesa?"

  "Aye. Big mountain. Looks like a table." Kargin wiped foam from his beard with his fingers. He paused then lowered his voice. "There's something else, a special deposit, like a mineral, near the city—actually, city is a misnomer. Deep Terlingas is more of a mining outpost, albeit a large one."

  "Just before Elizabeth and I assaulted the Culling Machine, you mentioned something that protected Deep Terlingas from the Culling wave."

  Kargin glanced down and nudged Witch-Bane with his boot. "Ever wonder where the red metal for that blade came from? I know, and I also know there's more of it beneath Deep Terlingas, a lot more. The metal shielded the outpost from the Culling."

  "An anti-magic mineral might be handy against the dark elves."

  "Aye, but there's the fly in the ale. We're sure it's there, but we only ever found the little bit my father used to forge Witch-Bane. Had we found the rest, the Secession Wars would have ended very differently." Kargin finished his beer. "That's it for me. There'll be no living with Ylra if I show up stinking of beer just before this mission." He climbed from his bar stool and held his hand out to Alex.

  Alex stood and found he was unsteady. He shook Kargin's hand. "Good luck, old friend," he whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

  Kargin pulled him into a fierce hug. "I don't need luck. I'll have my fighting ax and that wonderful Smith and Wesson." He flashed Alex a smile before turning and sauntering out of the bar, whistling a tune that sounded surprisingly like an old Newfoundland sea shanty.