by Pam Uphoff
Crap. I hope he means that I didn't piss my pants in terror. But it is time to revert to Good-boy-mayor.
"This . . . isn't one of the emergencies I've trained for." Mirk looked the animal over. "In fact, I'm trained to not cause emergencies."
Glare.
Oops. Let's talk about the elephant.
"How many bullets did it take to bring him down?"
Von Cratz eyed the animal. "A dozen. Or more. I hit it at least five times, but . . . I didn't bring the sort of ammunition one needs for this sort of target. Armor piercing rounds don't fragment enough to do widespread damage to tissue, and I suspect that if I dissected this fellow, I'd find his heart and brain were not where I thought they would be."
Mirk nodded. "Indeed. Umm, do I need to demonstrate some first aid training on your troops?"
Von Cratz frowned at his injured. His eyes especially narrowed as he studied the one with the bent mechanical arm.
Dammit, it was one of the honest ones.
Mirk kept his voice indifferent. "If the damage is simply mechanical, we can fix it. Not sure about the electronics. In either case, it'll have to wait until we get back to St. Louis."
"Indeed." Von Cratz frowned at the healthy cyborgs and they formed up and approached. He pointed at the elephant. "Get those tusks. And dig graves."
Mirk opened his mouth to suggest they might want spare parts . . . and then shut it.
I need to play nurse to the living to stay in character, but I have no cause to help them with repairs later.
He got two of the slightly injured to help him tip the aircar back upright. He fetched his kit from the back and checked the prone men first. Four dead. One with a head injury, a bad one. With luck he'd die. One in shock, probably internal damage. He slipped him a sip of the joy juice. Then turned to the lesser injuries. Splinted and immobilized the injured limbs—two arms, two legs, one finger.
Two improvised stretchers and they loaded up to head home.
"The damaged aircar is not safe for use."
The Nexus had been fortunately quiet for some time.
Mirk groaned. "We'll swap the load around. Baggage and tusks in the damaged one. Passengers in the undamaged four. The flat car will work best as an ambulance anyway."
"Mirk Negue . . . " The Nexus trailed off. "I will override the safety features that prohibit riding in the back of the flat car."
Mirk glanced over at Von Cratz.
The big cyborg grinned. "I think it's finally getting used to the new order."
Chapter Twenty-three
Winter 1400 px/01-3-3517
St. Louis, Utopia
Halberd bubbled her bicycle riding cyborg friends.
Pinned them on the wall beside Robert.
The other wall was for the bad cyborgs. The total there was building up nicely. And Sokalov was running about trying to find his lost cyborgs so much that he was leaving the people at the reproduction center alone. To everyone's relief.
"Even Dr. Haruki doesn't come around much. After all, Sokalov did say to do nothing." Frost smirked. "So we aren't."
"So with this much lead time, you won't have to dump any babies?" Napalm thumped plates of something on the table. Always a guessing game when it was her turn to "cook."
Frost nodded. "Toward the end we may need to deliver some a bit early, but I think we can do it."
Halberd nodded. She'd been raised by a mother and grandmother with no respect for life at all, let alone any respect for a mere fetus. So I suppose this is a good thing. We won't . . . I won't be like Teri. Arrow just did what she was told . . . and I pretended to . . . because I knew what would happen if I didn't.
I remember the night we fled. Most of the witches went one way, through the nearest gate. So I went the other way. On purpose.
I hope we never get discovered. I hope I never see Teri, Jade, or Arrow ever again.
"May I come to the reproduction center tomorrow? I've never actually seen it and this could be my last chance for a while. Nexus said we needed to learn, even while we're an occupied city, so we're starting classes again the day after tomorrow."
"Von Cratz has completed his hunting trip and is returning. He should arrive around midnight."
"Is Mirk all right?" Frost looked worried.
"Mirk Negue is well. He remained in character for the entire trip, and assisted the injured."
Frost sniffed. "Men! Going out and deliberately killing that poor animal!"
Halberd eyed her. I hadn't realized how much Frost liked it here. Even though she didn't have a job, I guess maybe she still fit in really well. Napalm has her biker gang, Mirk liked working in the office. And . . . I enjoyed learning about stuff.
We really do belong here. It really is home.
If we can keep it.
***
Frost got a frantic late morning call from Norma and rushed to the Reproduction center.
She'd slept poorly, and gotten up to talk to Mirk when he returned. Gone early to the hospital to observe the injured cyborgs. The head injury was especially interesting, the inset panel knocked loose. The cyborg with crushing abdominal injuries had obviously been given one dose of joy juice.
The call from Norma interrupted her attempts to get the doctors to dose him again.
And maybe I ought to let him die. But if Mirk dosed him, he must be worth saving.
At the rep center Norma had a hand to her face and was cowering in the corner. Dr. Haruki was unconscious on the floor. Two ordinary cyborgs stood at rigid attention, doing nothing.
Von Cratz and Solokov were face to face and yelling in German.
Frost couldn't catch much . . . well, Von Cratz was angry over the lack of mentalist embryos. That she caught. And Sokalov . . . what about two hundred cyborgs? She opened her shield to incoming thoughts and reeled backwards as the language and the emotions hit her.
"You!" Sokalov pounced on her. Shook her. "Why have you not started any mentalist embryos?"
"You ordered me to do nothing. You did something to my head!" Frost put both fear and resentment into her voice. "Every time I think of doing something I freeze. I can't even think!"
Von Cratz bellowed with laughter. "There! You idiot. If you use mental command you'd better watch what you say. I told them I should be the commander of the entire expedition, not just the military operations."
"You? You with your blustering stupidity? You killed four men because you were too bored to just do your job!" Sokalov's lips peeled back from his teeth. "So go do your job. Go to the troops and see what is happening to them. Check the beacon. The techs said it lit up twice today, they're searching for us. Go. Now!"
Von Cratz straightened. "The gate! Excellent!" He turned and stalked out.
Sokalov spun back to her. "And you! You just started speaking perfect Hochdeutsch. You have some bit of mentalist ability, and you've hidden it from me. But now we're going to have a very nice little chat. Mind-to-mind. No lying, no hiding."
Frost stared at him, wide-eyed. "What? I don't . . . " her hand went to her lips. "I . . . what did you do to me?"
The two cyborgs started forward, reaching for her.
"Ha! Caught it! He controls the cyborgs through a way, way high frequency." Halberd stepped out of the back hallway, as Sokalov turned, eyes narrowing.
Halberd grinned. "Cyborgs? Go to your barracks. Now!" The verbal order backed up with a high mental command.
The two cyborgs turned and walked out the door.
Frost could feel the mental echo, dim, too high to really get . . . She reached for it. As high as she could, and reached mentally for Sokalov. Threw power at his barriers and found no way in.
Damn, damn, damn!
Sokalov spun from Halberd to Frost. "Mentalists! Both of you! Trained mentalists! Foreign mentalists!"
He pounced, hands going for her neck.
Halberd hit him from the back, kicking the backs of his knees. He landed on his butt, scrambled to his feet, and backed up to the wall, staring from one to the other . . . men
tal pressure built.
Halberd stepped closer and dropped her voice. "Frost? He said the gate was opening. We have to stop it, and you have the best slice. Get there as fast as you can and slice up the beacon. Do whatever you have to do, to break it."
"Halberd! I can't leave you here with him!"
"Oh yes you can. After all, I have to advance sometime."
"Halberd!" Frost backed away as Sokalov frowned and increased the pressure.
"You vill go nowhere."
Stupid fool lurched toward her, shoving past Halberd. Never underestimate a witch just because she's young!
Halberd jumped and got an arm around his neck, jerked him back . . . "Go!"
Frost cursed, and went. "Nexus, I need an aircar, fast, and this is an emergency, please override the speed controls."
"Frost Witch! Mentalist Sokalov has gotten loose and is attacking Halberd Arrowdaut . . . He says he knows how to tame her!"
"Poor fool is going to regret it if he rapes her!" Frost leaped into the aircar and it zipped off with more than usual speed. "Where's Mirk? I'm not sure I can handle Von Cratz alone."
"He has been summoned to join Von Cratz."
Chapter Twenty-four
Winter 1400 px/09-3-3517
St. Louis, Utopia
There were dancing lights above the scorched patch where he'd destroyed the gate.
Not. Good.
Mirk stared at the ground. I wonder how deeply buried their beacon is? I could try punching holes . . .
"Zo, zoon you will see the true might of the Drei. Not just this pathetic little scouting mission. We vill take all the cities, and put you soft slaves to proper verk making goods for the Drei while ve plan vurther conquests." Von Cratz turned to watch the lights.
Damn. I'll have to deal with him first. Not to mention his two pet goons and the dozen guards stationed to protect the gate.
Then he caught Frost's mental voice.
:: Mirk! Time to start the war. Halberd is fighting Sokalov and you need to deal with Von Cratz while I destroy the beacon. ::
Right. Just the two of us. No. Problem.
Mirk looked around at the bulldozed piles of rubbish from the demolished camp. Stepped and pulled a metal bar out. Too short, bent at both ends . . . actually it might work for fighting an over-sized cyborg . . . another bar, this one straighter and longer. He hefted it, left-handed. Too heavy, but about as long as the swords he'd used all his life.
Excellent.
Shields, mental and energy, to start.
Something in his stance, or perhaps the crude weapons alerted Von Cratz's guards.
As the one to the left started to turn, he brought the long bar down on his head. The cyborg dropped.
Weak skull, with that plate in it.
He absorbed the wash of energy as a laser hit his shield. A right-handed lunge. The bent bar couldn't pierce, but it could crush the second guard's trachea. Mirk stepped back from a furious swing by Von Cratz.
He faced the big cyborg. "So. Looks like the opportunity for a peaceful resolution has ended. I won't allow you to open that gate again."
"Zo. You haf fooled me all along. I believed you ver a coward." Von Cratz grinned. "But now, vinally I haf a proper fight."
Mirk grinned back. "No. Finally, I get to kill you."
Not a word from the Nexus.
Haven't fenced in years. Hope I haven't lost it . . . He settled mentally into his center, even as he danced away from Von Cratz's roundhouse swing and leaped to bring the short bar down across the laser. Almost dodged the return backhand, rode it and managed to stay on his feet.
Lunge with the straight bar. Von Cratz grabbed it with his cyber hand. Mirk struck with the short, bent bar. Between the bars of the mechanical forearm. Twist and jerk. Held on as he was thrown, the bar ripping out the wires . . .
He rolled, kept rolling as Von Cratz thumped toward him, all the guards trailing, spreading out to circle them. He got to his feet, backing. Had he done enough damage to even the odds?
Out of the corner of his eye an aircar stopping, Frost ducking low and making for the gate site.
Mirk fended off blows, backing to keep out of reach . . . and draw as many cyborgs as possible away from the gate.
***
"That was disgusting! And it hurt!" Halberd drew her foot back and kicked the flaccid body on the floor. Tripped over her pants, still trapping one foot. Swiped sweat, tears and snot from her face with an angry gesture.
"And slimy. It's disgusting!" She found her ripped panties and wiped her crotch. "And I'm bleeding!"
She got her pants back on and limped out the door. Threw the power she'd saved up while learning to channel into that high-frequency mental communication. "Go to your barracks! Now! All cyborgs go to your barracks!" She broadcast it as far as she could.
"Nexus. I need an aircar. Can you observe the cyborgs? Are they obeying? How near to them do I need to be for them to get my orders?"
"They all appear to be moving toward the army camp. Halberd Arrowdaut, do you require medical help?"
"Not yet. I'm mostly just bruised from the fighting part of that mess." She swiped her sleeve across her face. "I still need to deal with the cyborgs, and I probably won't be able to order Von Cratz around."
***
Frost darted from trash heap to trash heap. Trying to watch for cyborgs, trying to not watch the deadly fight beyond them. Two cyborgs were hanging back. Watching the fight, but still bracketing the lights dancing above the scorched ground. She worked her way around behind them.
Unnoticeable.
Physical shield. Pouring off me, all pouring down my arm and extending like a blade. Long, thin.
She stabbed the ground. And the world exploded.
***
Mirk was slowing. Tiring.
Damn my age, damn his untiring mechanical legs.
Even without use of his hand, Von Cratz was able to use his left arm like a cudgel. Mirk lunged in again, withdrew as quickly. If I had a sword I'd have cut him to ribbons. But brute force is his style, not mine, and . . .
A brilliant flare of light and heat. The blast knocked him off his feet, but he'd been pulling in the power for shielding and took it all in. The surge of power made him feel like his head was going to explode. He rolled over. And as Von Cratz charged at him, he compacted the heat and threw it all at him.
Screaming, flaming. Mirk rolled out of the way of the cyborg, still on its feet. Computer controls for balance? The electromechanical arm swung and knocked him away, but it was just flailing, falling as the organics charred . . .twitching on the ground as the last of what was the original van Cratz crumpled.
Mirk swayed and eyed the guards around him.
Lasers started pointing his direction and he hardened his energy shields . . .
"No. There's no need." One of the guards turned to the rest. "Can you feel it? Sokalov is dead. We're free."
Two others nodded. The rest disagreed. Mirk ducked away as they rounded on each other.
:: Go to your barracks! :: A thin high mental command, barely within his mental "hearing" range. Female . . . Halberd!
The cyborgs turned toward the barracks, staggered, stopped, fighting the orders. Mirk circled, keeping his eyes on them.
The gate site was now a crater spitting sparks and smoke. No light dancing above it. A broken slab of glass, or perhaps something else, shattered and scattered. As he watched the last lights died and a last snap ended with a puff of smoke.
Frost was curled on the ground, panting. Burns. Red and blistering, a bit of charring, but not much . . .
Mirk could feel her spells, healing and pain control. He patted his pockets and found the flask. Dribbled a bit into her mouth. Her left side had taken the worst damage, face and arm.
An aircar swooped up. Mirk eyed the milling cyborgs. "You! You three who want to be free? Come here." He tried to reach for that high mental range. :: You, you and you. Come here. ::
They came, and lifted Frost into t
he aircar.
Mirk eyed the cyborgs. "You three go with her. Wait at the hospital. Do not go to the barracks." A high tickle of :: orders. ::
They crammed into the aircar, trying to not jostle the silently crying Frost and the car zipped away, not a word about seat belts.
"Nexus? You are still here, aren't you?"
"Yes, Mark Negue. I see the necessity . . . but I am frozen and unable to assist in killing."
"Good. That's good. We'll have a long talk later, after I see what Napalm and her bicycle buddies are doing."
"They are employing a transdimensional phenomena to . . . place the cyborgs in a time dilated . . . state."
Mirk limped closer and eyed the kids. Two with long sticks, raised above the roof level of the barracks building, two with shorter sticks, lower to run along the raised gravel and sand foundation pad. And obviously with a bubble attached to the ends of all four poles. As they walked along, the building disappeared.
A second group of kids, early teens at the most, some of them looked as young as Napalm, started in on a second building. Four cyborgs left the building.
"I hope those are the friendly ones."
"Yes. I have been watching and analyzing them. Four thousand three hundred and twenty-eight cyborgs are welcome to remain and become citizens, not just visitors. Halberd is giving them permission to stay. About a quarter of them are accepting."
Mirk spotted Halberd getting out of an aircar. She met the pole carriers at the end of the barracks. They lowered the poles and she . . . collected absolutely nothing and closed it up. Bent and picked up a piece of gravel. Pressed her thumb on it and dropped it into a pocket.
Mirk snorted. "I take it you just pocketed a barracks full of cyborgs?"
"Hi Mirk. Yep." She was grubby and looked to have more bruises than he had. "We're going to bubble them all. Well, except the friendly ones. And even the ones who stayed with the army, well, I'll double bubble them and . . . keep them until we figure out what to do with them."