As the room emptied, Sopos had no doubt many would be leaving the planet to confer with their handlers directly, not trusting the sacrosanct unhackability of Scalazar, up until now supported by all member galaxies and worlds. There was too much at stake now for someone not to be snooping, and to try and break the rules.
It didn’t matter.
None attempting to leave Scalazar ever would, ever again.
Sopos retreated from the main chamber the way he had entered, drifting outside with the two centurions flanking him.
Outside, remaining on the highest deck surrounding the summit meeting room, overlooking the many decks below with the spiraling arms extending from the hub of the many wheels which spun around the stem, Sopos met with a Shadow Warrior named Xenon.
Sopos lowered himself until his feet were actually on the ground, just not supporting his weight, so he wouldn’t be towering over the Shadow Warrior from a position of authority. It was not that kind of negotiation.
Sopos could defend himself quite ably, no doubt, even against one such as Xenon. He played up his feebleness even when away from his home planet, because he found nothing brought out the assassins and hunters than smelling the weakness on him.
But with his hand-to-hand combat training, on a world such as this, it would have been ridiculously easy to fight off slews of attackers single-handedly.
Still, something about this guy suggested he might not want to put that boast to the test. This was no ordinary spy or smuggler or pirate. He was clearly a highly-trained fighter himself, and hardly a generalist like Sopos, who could not afford to know too much about one thing, and not enough about everything else.
He bowed to Xenon respectfully. “I gather you are a special branch of the Shadow Warriors,” Sopos said.
Xenon bowed back—without taking his eyes off his mark. “Yes, Special Forces.”
“Assassins?”
“In a manner of speaking. How did your session go?”
“I believe we now know everything we need to know. My centurions vacuumed out what was inside their admittedly airy heads. More importantly, they know who the handlers are, and who will need extra persuading, and who cannot be persuaded.”
“Yes, I know. We hacked the faraday cage of the Dome. We have everything that’s inside the heads of your centurions.”
It took all of Sopos’s training to restrain a gasp. But he had no doubt the expression that had leaked out of his shifty eyes told the story nonetheless.
He bowed to Xenon. “I gather then that I may be allowed to leave.”
“Of course. You are now an invaluable member of The Shadow Warriors. Congratulations on surviving your initiation. You may take as many of your centurions with you as you like.”
Sopos’s expression changed almost imperceptibly. If he’d read Xenon right, that’s all it would take.
“Oh, I see,” Xenon said.
Reacting with reflexes even faster than his centurions—something Sopos did not think possible—he took out both the centurions. As far as Sopos could tell—with a thought. Xenon hadn’t flinched. The two centurions flanking Sopos—who had not surrendered their height advantage, and who were still hovering some feet off the ground—exploded. Their blood splattered across Sopos’s face and exposed hands, and his robes. But his skin and his garments came with blood-cleaning technology—a sad requirement in his business.
If Xenon had moved at all to do what he did, if it hadn’t been some power-of-mind thing, it meant he could move faster than Sopos’s upgraded humanoid body could process. He wasn’t sure which idea was more frightening.
“I doubt my ship will escape the blast radius of the planet in time,” Sopos said guardedly.
“No, it won’t, which is why I will assist you back to your home world of Entreati set aside for Pan Galactica federation meetings.” Xenon gestured with his hand. Lights sparkled from his fingertips, like a departing fighting force of microscopic rockets, opening a portal for Sopos to step through.
Once again, Sopos fought to maintain his poker face.
“We will soon be supplying Entreati with a planet-size mind amplifier,” Xenon said. “So your intellectual elite can grapple with bigger problems than they could before, and influence the thinking of the major players in distant galaxies with your far more progressive thinking.”
Despite years of diplomatic training, Sopos’s jaw fell slack. He covered it with the cough of an old man. Then smiled. “Thank you,” he said bowing to Xenon once again.
He stepped through the portal thinking, “Who are these people? If the Gypsy Galaxy’s spy network under Sonny can do all this on its own, hell, they might not need a military arm to escape The Collectors. Either way, if the military arm is every bit as resourceful as the spy network, what he said back in that lecture hall might well be more than total bullshit.”
He honestly didn’t think the resistance could pull off the prison break. He was just happy to use any argument to put an end to the transgalactic war, which had already cost him his son, who was, by all accounts, an even greater diplomat.
He turned to give Xenon a final look before the portal sealed. Xenon looked as unflappable as ever. That guy was even harder to get a rise out of than Sopos himself.
Yes, there might well be hope for the resistance.
After a million years of captivity, could it really be possible?
He dared to dream, a luxury diplomats seldom allowed themselves, even in the addled-years of their semi-retirement.
The planet exploded behind Xenon.
The portal holding the shrapnel fast.
Even as it showed him the blast radius escaping the planet—and taking out all the fleeing ships of the intergalactic dignitaries.
Even the ones reaching the wormholes, who appeared like they might just escape the blast radius, found the wormholes closing down ahead of them, eliminating any possibility of escape.
In the aftermath of the fireworks, even as those fireworks continued to expand so planets far and wide could appreciate the eruption, Xenon came back into view, riding the blast radius.
He gave one final bow to Sopos, before disappearing.
The arrogant bastard wanted to show him that he’d just survived a planet erupting as if its entire core had been turned into one tremendous explosive.
But maybe there was a point to his showing off.
Sopos’s last thought as the portal closed behind him was, “Hell, yes, we’re escaping The Collectors!”
***
THE NAUTILUS, LEON’S PRIVATE SUITE
The Omega Force members sitting in the vicinity of Leon’s Samadhi tank, with him still in it, their eyes glued to the mindwave television broadcasting his findings from across time and space, pretty much all had the same response at the same time. “Whoa!”
They’d seen Sopos in full form speaking before the enclosed coliseum.
And then they’d spied the true nature of his and Xenon’s subterfuge.
DeWitt was shaking his head in disbelief. “These Shadow Warriors Special Forces guys are seriously bad ass.” He pivoted his attention to Leon in the tank. “I’m not sure Leon and his Omega Force has the patent on cool anymore.”
Crumley growled. “I believe the proper response to all this is rage and indignation, not pass the popcorn, unless my EQ took a real nosedive.”
“Oh, don’t get me going about the Rage and Indignation channel,” Ajax interjected. “That’s where I put all the stuff I’m not inured to yet.”
Cronos sauntered in, walking his war horse. Cronos looked beat. His broadsword was trailing on the floor like the loose muffler of a car, and it sounded acoustically like nails on a chalkboard.
He collapsed into a beanbag he synthesized out of thin air, adjusting his broadsword so it could traipse from his waist more comfortably. And he tossed the still burning cross of incense, a tad taller than him, into “the dumpster.” The atmospheric nanites, responding to his thoughts, handled the cleanup. “I’m whipped,” he said
. “What’s on the tele?”
“You missed Xenon’s floor show.”
“That guy? He’s not bad. Personally I prefer Neon. Now that guy shines. Especially at night.” Cronos belched after taking a swig of the Coors beer he’d manifested out of thin air, drinking straight out of the can. “Pardon the pun.”
“Coors?” Ajax objected. “I can’t believe you’re drinking that piss.”
“I’m getting a company kickback for pushing the brand,” Cronos said deadpan.
“No shit?” DeWitt sat up abruptly. “We can do that? Why didn’t I think of that? I have my kid’s future to think about.”
“Dude, it’s not like you have to pay for his education. He can suck off the tit of supersentience like the rest of us.” Cronos belched some more before taking another swig of his beer.
DeWitt was shaking his head adamantly. “You have to be prepared for the economy going tits up at any moment. Living in Singularity State as we are, well, proximate to it anyway… The whole house of cards is so damn unstable, I could be selling mangoes at a street corner tomorrow to pay for my kid’s education, on some backwater of a planet that’s never heard of mangoes. Which is why I have the seeds stowed under my bed.”
Everyone glared at him, eyebrows tented just enough for those tents to qualify as military-grade. Cronos belched more beer. “And I thought I had the market cornered on weird.”
“I think it’s time we admit post-traumatic stress is taking its toll on everyone,” Crumley declared.
“Spare me the sage perspectives and call something up on the TV, ha?” Cronos was still blowing his nose from the soot he’d inhaled from all the incense burning earlier. “Can we hop over to the righteous rage and indignation channel? Not to be too on the nose.”
“No!” the rest of the room lit up. “We’re still getting a feel for these Shadow Warriors,” Crumley said.
DeWitt pointed to the corner of the big screen flashing, “This Timeline.” “Isn’t it time somebody asked why Leon is suddenly so focused on our timeline?” DeWitt asked. “I mean, he’s supposed to be pulling intelligence in from alternative timelines that can keep us one step ahead in this one.”
The others regarded one another. “It is a good question,” Crumley confessed.
“Maybe it’s got something to do with The Collectors,” Cronos suggested. “I’m reasonably sure we’ve lost connection to the other Nautili as well.”
“How do you know?” Ajax asked, his skin prickling with goosebumps.
“Dude, I just spent the day galloping across the Nautilus, and Mother didn’t try to shut me down once. That tells me she doesn’t have the mind power to spare, and can’t be bothered, and that tells me, no more parallel-arrayed Nautili, and something big is going on that demands all of her attention.”
Crumley thought about it.
“I can’t believe you turned that break from reality into an intelligence gathering mission,” Ajax mumbled at Cronos. “Some people have all the luck. I whine and bitch and nothing positive ever comes of it.”
“What do you mean? We bang your head silly with our fists, like restarting one of those old tube TVs with snowy reception,” Cronos quipped, squeezing his beer can, letting it dissolve back into the atmosphere, and materializing another one for himself.
“Shit, I think I know what’s going on,” DeWitt said. “It’s Sonny. He’s figured out a way to hack the mindwave TV, so Leon’s intel can’t get to us, at least not the stuff that can put too serious a crimp on his operations.”
Crumley nodded, standing, and tossing the tub of popcorn aside for the atmospheric nanites to disintegrate. “It makes sense. For the record, DeWitt, good work. Your constantly overreaching yourself to come up with an idea even semi-worthy of Leon is finally paying off. You won’t have to be embarrassed any longer over your son’s prospects if you keep this up.”
“Thanks,” DeWitt said after a bit, sounding whipped.
Crumley supposed he had unmasked him. Poor guy probably hoped no one was on to him all this time. It was time for Crumley to consider his next move. Addressing the group, he said, “We have a decision to make. Wake Leon up, fish him the hell out of that tank. Or, find Solo. Someone has to counterhack whoever got inside Mother’s head. And that sure as hell isn’t going to be any of us.”
The group considered the matter, alternating staring at nothing in particular, at Leon in the tank, and at one another.
“Not yet,” DeWitt said. “We don’t fish Leon out just yet. Not when we’re getting so close to busting out of here and he could be fishing out the intel we need to make all the difference. So what if Sonny is editing what pertains to him? Whatever Leon finds to get us clear of The Collectors is likely to have little to do with Sonny. I vote we find Solo.”
The others nodded.
“Besides,” Ajax said. “If Sonny got this far, who knows what else he’s done to the Nautilus? His own thirst for control could be doing as much to advance our joint quest as to sabotage it. If Leon’s time hasn’t yet come, Solo is definitely the man of the hour.”
“Leave it to you to make a spooky situation spookier,” Cronos said, tossing the beer. That time he let the self-repairing, self-cleaning floor absorb it. “Stick to the jokes.”
“I’ve come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass,” Ajax jibed. “And I’m all out of bubblegum.”
They all laughed.
A pregnant pause.
“What movie is that from?” Cronos asked, sounding as if he was straining his brain.
“They Live,” Ajax replied.
“How apropos,” Crumley mumbled.
They were all headed for the sliding doors and for Solo. Solo wasn’t answering Crumley’s COMMS, so Ajax may well be right. Sonny might be up to more no-good than they could fathom.
SIXTY-EIGHT
ABOARD THE NAUTILUS
SOLO’S QUARTERS
Omega Force had Solo surrounded. For most adversaries, this would have been a distinctly uncomfortable situation filled with dread. Solo merely looked irritated. “Gentlemen, I’m quite busy.”
“Mother has been hacked,” DeWitt said with the force of a bullet.
“We think Sonny is responsible.” Cronos mumbled the rest, “Even if ‘judgement is mine’ sayeth the lord, I think he will allow us this one exception.”
“Sonny wouldn’t risk my recalling the Blue from his protection detail,” Solo sighed and, leaning on his cane to help him think, said, “nor would he risk Leon’s wrath, making null and void any deal between them. Your perpetrator lies elsewhere. I suggest you recruit the young girl, Hailey. Now if you don’t mind…”
Omega Force eyed one another dumbfounded.
“You want us to put the future of the free multiverse in the hands of an eleven-year-old girl?” Ajax asked. “I’m sorry, I must have missed that episode of Mad Magazine. And for the record, I never miss an episode of Mad Magazine!”
Losing all composure, Solo did an about face and blurted, “I know you’d rather put it in the hands of a standing, talking, sentient serpent, but beggars can’t be choosers. Now, for the last time, get out of my lab, or I assure you, you action figure toys will be all too happy to be put back in the toy box when I’m through with you!”
Omega Force opted for a strategic retreat.
***
Back in the hall again, the sliding doors to Solo’s chamber closed behind them, DeWitt asked, “What the hell? I’ve never seen Solo so worked up.”
“Cut the guy some slack,” Crumley said. “First he’s tasked with providing the brain power to sustain a teleporting galaxy. Then, typical project creep, and equally typical Leon, Leon now wants to teleport a TGC, using the Gypsy Galaxy as the tip of the arrow, and the other galactic empires as his supply chain. Oh, and there’s the relatively minor task of the supersentiences Solo was forced to procure on a dime to make the most of the Kang Dynasty finds of legacy tech in our coffers, and to fast-track Leon’s searches of The Collectors’ Menagerie for useful keys
to unlock the doors on their multiverse prison.”
“Leon’s got all sorts of people helping him with that!” DeWitt protested.
Crumley glared at him. “And they might just give Leon the teleporting TGC war machine he has in mind. But who do you think is really going to hold that thing together? All the cracks that can’t be filled by humanoid minds and existing supersentient AIs?”
“Fine!” DeWitt blared. “Who isn’t having a bad day around here?”
“Maybe I should have gone with one of my jokes to cut the ice, you know?” Ajax suggested. “I found an ugly creature in my son’s bedroom,” Ajax said in the altered voice of the character he was doing. “My son said it was a brain sucker.” He waited a moment to deliver the punch line. “Apparently it starved to death.”
Hailey materialized in front of the marching unit, stopping them dead in their tracks. “It’s come to my attention that you’re so desperate for my help that I finally have the leverage I need around here.”
“For what?” Crumley said smiling at the toe-tapping, arms-crossed eleven-year-old.
“My namesake stuck on Earth is getting bored out of her mind. And she’s quite pissed she hasn’t been allowed into the game, considering all she’s done for the cause. I find it hard not to sympathize with her.”
Crumley was losing his fight restraining his smile. “And you want us to beam her aboard?”
“Why? I’m already here. No, she wants her own planet where she can conduct her war games with her new boyfriend, Thor, and with her surrogate grandfather figure, General Schopenhauer. He has taken over parenting for the two out-to-lunch parents who are both dealing with shock over the whole Moving Earth drama. Little do they know that Moving Earth was the least of it.”
Crumley could only manage an “Ah…”
“Give the girl her own galaxy for all I care!” Ajax blurted at Crumley. “I live for my premium channels and I’m missing out on Xenon’s latest adventures while we stand here blabbering. To say nothing of the rest of The Shadow Warriors.”
Crumley craned his head to him. “Leon will have to deal with Corin, who I’m guessing is not going to be terribly thrilled to find out we’ve given her son his own galaxy to conduct his wargames!”
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