New Olympus Saga (Book 3): Apocalypse Dance (12 page)

Assorted, March 29, 2014

“Oh, no! Which pole is it this time?”

Chastity Baal checked on her GPS. “North Pole. You’re still veering off course, but not as badly as before.”

Christine had two speeds, unfortunately. She could hover in place, more or less, if by hovering you meant enduring a trembling up-and-down motion as she constantly overcorrected. And she could move in short bursts of motion that ended up inflicting a lot of punishment on her passengers and featured non-existent steering.

After Chastity Baal’s stealth device got us out of the Ukraine, Christine had tried to go on a steady course west, at speeds that averaged something like fifteen thousand miles an hour, according to Chastity Baal’s calculations. Unfortunately, we’d moved more or less at random. We’d ended up somewhere over the South Pole after a particularly bad left turn, and now we were on the other side of the planet, but still with a lot of ice beneath us.

“Okay, let me hover for a bit and get our bearings.”

As flights went, it had been a lot less comfortable than our initial trip to Eurasia. Christine was holding me with one arm, Chastity Baal with the other, and that’s how we’d spent the last several hours. The woman who’d spared us from being blasted to bits by Ukraine’s air defenses had also been able to give us directions, thanks to her wrist-comp. Our wrist-comps, along with our clothes and everything we’d taken along for the trip, were somewhere in the Dominion, and we weren’t planning on coming back for them. Christine was only wearing some scraps of a hospital gown that only covered about half of her body. I wasn’t wearing even that much. We’d better land somewhere unpopulated or we’d get ticketed for indecent exposure.

“I read about you,” I told Chastity Baal while she looked up our coordinates. Christine’s flying speeds sort of messed up the readings. We hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk during most of the trip. “I read the Madeleine Brent novels that came out in the Sixties and Seventies,” I continued. “Were the stories made up, or the real thing?”

Chastity nodded without looking up from the wrist comp’s screen. “They were highly embellished accounts, but, yes, they were based somewhat on real stories. And Madeleine Brent was actually a rather nice British gentleman I met while living in England, who preferred to write under a pseudonym.”

“Sweet. Those were fun books. I wished the movies didn’t suck so badly.”

“Thank you. I enjoyed the novels myself. But Hollywood didn’t care for them; there was never much interest in the deeds of a low-power Neo,” she said before getting back to business. “Very well, I have our position. Not too badly off course, actually. We’re near the Canadian border, so we’ve reached the right continent, at least.”

“I’m sorry,” Christine replied. “I’ve got exactly zero flying lessons, okay? Not to mention fear of heights and of flying in general, which at least I’m cured of by now.”

“The hovering’s gotten a lot better,” I told her. “We’re hardly jumping around anymore.”

“Thanks, sweetie. Now, where should we go? The mansion in the Catskills, maybe?”

“I’d say yes, except Condor hasn’t answered the phone since we escaped,” I said. We’d had Chastity try him after we’d gotten far enough away, to no avail.

“I’m getting a general alert from the Legion,” Chastity announced. “There’s been an attack on Freedom Island.”

“Again?”

“A different type of attack. Rogue parahumans, including Janus, as well as Condor and Kestrel.”

“They’re breaking John out!” Christine said. “And Janus is back? That’s awesome.”

“It’s awesome if they get out alive,” I replied.

“Hey, we got out, didn’t we? Start being positive or I’ll drop you off at the North Pole and you can get all gloomy with Santa and the elves and the penguins and the bears.”

“Okay, okay.” She had a point. Condor wouldn’t have joined in the fun without a good plan. Ultimate was as good as free.

“So, do we go there and see if we can help out?”

“If it’s going down now, I don’t think we can help much,” I said. “Chastity?”

“The reports are confused right now. The alarm was raised five minutes ago. In theory we could get there in a few minutes…”

“But it’s going to be more like an hour while we bounce back and forth,” I finished for her, earning a little glare from my gal pal. “Hey, just being realistic, sweetie-pie.”

“In any case, my stealth field is no longer operational. The Legion sensors will spot us and their defenses will not react positively to an inbound object moving at ballistic speeds. They will assume we’re hostile and engage us.”

“Okay, that sounds bad,” Christine said. “I guess we can go to the Catskills and wait and see what happens.”

“I could contact the Legion and try to explain things,” Chastity added. “My main worry is that Daedalus will have a counter ready for that eventuality. He is famous for anticipating his opponents’ moves. Among other things, he put an explosive device inside my communication implants, and I don’t think I was the only one to get that surprise gift.”

“Oh my God, you have a bomb inside your head?”

“Not anymore. I had the implant removed when I struck out on my own. The device exploded shortly afterwards, severely injuring an old friend who had performed the operation. He will recover, fortunately, being a Neo himself, but that adds another mark to Daedalus’ tally. There will be a reckoning.”

“John’s implant was contaminated with Outsider energy,” Christine said. “Maybe there was a bomb inside it too, and Dad didn’t bother telling us when he took it apart.”

“Well, your father was a bit batshit crazy at the time, so that’s entirely possible.”

“I know. So maybe letting the Legion know what’s happening might not be a good idea. If Daedalus finds out…”

“About two hundred Neo heads go up in smoke,” I finished for her.

“How the heck does someone get bombs into everybody’s skull implants?”

“If you’re a Neo genius, and you’re one of the head honchos of your organization, you’ll find a way,” I said. “Although maybe he didn’t put bombs inside everyone’s heads. For one, that raises the chance of an accidental detonation. Maybe he just did it to a few people. But we don’t know, so assuming everyone in the Legion is a walking armed grenade is the safe thing to do.”

“Okay. Well, I guess it’s off to the Catskills, then.”

“There’s one more problem,” I said, and from the look in Chastity’s face, I wasn’t the only one who’d figured that out. “We don’t have a stealth field anymore, so US air defenses are going to spot us jumping all over the Eastern Seaboard on our way there.”

“Oh, crap. Where can we go, then? Land somewhere else and take a cab to the Catskills? With two us pretty much naked? Why don’t people in comic books ever have this kind of problem?”

“Because in comic books you can fix things from one panel to the next. Okay, how about swimming in? We hit the water, and then we can just skip along the surface until we hit land. Any thoughts, Chastity?”

“Yes, I think that will work.”

We got to the mansion eventually. It took a nice long soak in cold Atlantic water, a store break-in where a couple of sets of clothing went missing, one incident of grand theft auto, and a tense drive, but we got there.

* * *

We took turns showering and getting dressed, with one of us constantly monitoring Chastity’s wrist-comp in case Condor called back. We all ended up wearing the grey-and-black Condor Team uniforms he had in storage; Condor Team was the informal name of the illegal Neos my pal took under his wing, trained, and eventually released into the world, where most of them had done good and done well. The outfits were skin-tight but surprisingly comfortable, as well as tough and durable. I made hot chocolate, Chastity brewed herself some gourmet coffee and we sat down and compared notes while we waited to hear from our friends.

Chastity’s tale was pretty wild. At the end of it, she let us take a good look at her dagger. It looked like a nice fighting knife to me, not like a magical device that could suck a Neo’s powers and memories and pass them on to its wielder, but I was the resident ignoramus, so my opinion didn’t really count.

Christine was looking the weapon over, an intent expression on her face. “Ugh. That’s what I picked up when I saw your aura. That thing is lousy with Outsider energy, but it’s also imbued with Source juice. It’s a hybrid of the two, which is amazing, since the two forces are opposed to each other both physically and spiritually.”

“Has the contagion spread into me?” Chastity asked, and even though she looked outwardly calm I noticed a few tell-tale signs of tension in her; a narrowing of her eyes, a tightening of her lips. Even without my girlfriend’s empathy powers, I could tell she was very upset.

Christine shook her head. “No. It’s hard for the Outside to get into you, thank God, or we’d be totally effed up by now. Your aura is pretty messed up – you’ve got all these bits and pieces from the dead guy mixed in with your own stuff, and he wasn’t very nice at all – but I think you’ll be okay, for some values of okay, if I can figure out a way to break the link between it and you.”

“I’ll keep it until then,” Chastity said, and took the dagger back. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of having anything linked to the Outsiders near us, but I figured I was outvoted and kept my mouth shut.

“I’m sure things will work out. After this is over, I’ll take a much closer look at it,” Christine said before turning to me. “Come on, Mark, help me with the dishes.”

“Are you trying to domesticate me?” I replied glibly, but went along. It would give us a chance to have some alone time. We both could use it.

She obviously needed it. As soon as we’d set down the cups on the restaurant-sized kitchen sink, she hugged me tightly. “Oh, God, Mark!” She shuddered in my arms; she’d kept all her feelings pent up inside, during the breakout and the tense flight home, and they were finally pouring out of her. I undid my mental blocks and let myself share in her pain.

It was bad. Christine had almost died when the Iron Tsar turned the full power of his Dread Gaze on her. She’d managed to bring herself back, much like she’d done with me, and the process had been just as traumatic. The sweet, cheerful girl she’d been was getting tougher, growing a layer of callous and scar tissue with each wound she suffered.

She was becoming like me, in other words. Soon the girl I’d fallen in love with would fade away, and she’d be somebody else. Not worse, or better, but different. Christine Dark, college student and geek girl, would be dead and gone. And that realization hurt me, hurt me more than I’d expected. It wasn’t the same as losing Fay, my teenage love, dead in my arms, but it was a loss I didn’t want to experience.

The world didn’t care what I wanted. She was changing, and there was nothing I could do about that, except hope the new Christine would be someone I could love – and who could love me back.

“Hey,” I said. “It’s okay. It was bad, but we made it through, you made it through. We escaped from a Neo-proof prison, and threw down with the Iron-Fucking Tsar and kicked his ass, okay? We’re heroes. We can deal with all this shit, have pancakes after midnight, and save the world again the next day.”

“We-we are the champions, m-my friends,” she stuttered between sobs, sounding like she was quoting or maybe singing something. “I was so scared, Mark. I don’t think I can handle being that scared again.”

“You handled it like a champ, Christine. The fear never goes away, unless you go numb, and then you can’t feel anything. Just let the fear come, and set it aside and do whatever you’ve got to do. Which, by the way, is exactly what you’ve been doing all along, so I’m just wasting my breath. You already know what to do.”

“I guess. There is the part of me that is getting off from all the adrenaline, and there is the rest of me, just about ready to die just so I can stop being scared. It’s crazy.”

“Well, at least you’re getting the Neo rush out of it,” I said. So was I, for that matter. I made a face and our eyes met; she kissed me.

“Oh, my God,” she said in a very different tone of voice when we took a break. “I really, really want to… you know.”

“Me too.”

“I noticed, Captain Is-That-A-Gun-In-Your-Pocket. Do you think we have time?”

“We’ll make time.”

I swept the cups and dishes off the kitchen island and they went crashing to the floor; Condor would probably send me a bill for a couple grand, but I didn’t care. We hopped onto it, fumbling for the fastenings in our costumes.

We only had thirty minutes or so, before Chastity politely interrupted us with news, but we made the most of it.

Freedom Island, Caribbean Sea, March 29, 2013

Ali Fiori arrived just in time to see the last of the watch detail go down. Nothing stood between the raiders and John Clarke but a force field. And her.

Except she wasn’t sure if she should try to stop them. “Cassius!”

Janus turned toward her. “We’re here to save John, Ali.”

“I know. I also know Daedalus is the traitor.”

That surprised him, she could see. “Then you will let us through?”

She came to a decision. “I will, but we have to make it look good. I’m glad nobody’s badly hurt,” she added. None of the Legionnaires lying around the prison facility were conscious, but they were all tough boys and girls, and they’d recover eventually. “Daedalus has booby-trapped at least some if not all our implants. Nebiru is working on it, but it’s going to take time. Until that happens, we’ve got to make it look like we still believe Daedalus’ lies.”

While they talked, Condor and a man in a black-and-bronze costume she didn’t recognize were dismantling the force field surrounding John’s comatose body. “Very well,” Janus said. “What do you want me to do?”

“Give me your best shot, big boy,” Ali replied with a savage grin. “That way, it will look like I tried to stop you and failed.” She’d been on the receiving end of a Janus
Yamato
Special before; it wasn’t going to be fun.

“As you wish. Do you want to say ‘when’ or should I surprise you?”

“Surp…”

The word exploded in golden light.

Ali opened her eyes. She was partially embedded into one of the walls; Janus had concentrated the power of his blast very carefully to reduce collateral damage to a minimum, but she’d still gone through several walls. The raid was going to cost a pretty penny, but at least this time no civilians had died.

She was in about as much pain as when John had punched her lights out, but she was still mobile. “Give me a casualty report,” she said into her wrist-comp, which had survived the blast, barely.

The central computer replied, its pleasant baritone based on Doc Slaughter’s voice.
I miss you, Doc
, she thought as the computer went over the list of injured – and, as she’d hoped, without reporting a single fatality. The worst off were the Faerie Godfather, who’d been partially
shredded
by some incredible force, and Berserker, who’d been in the middle of beating one of the intruders half to death when someone had put him through the same wringer as the Godfather. Whoever was doing that was pretty dangerous; she was glad he or she was on her side.

John was gone, of course, carried off by the raiders. At least he would be safe now. The trial would resume soon enough, with or without a defendant, of course. And Neo conspiracy theorists would start bombarding the blogosphere with claims the escape had been aided and abetted by the Legion itself, protecting its own. The fact the accusations contained more than a kernel of truth did not make them any less outrageous.

That was nicely done
, Jason Merrill said in her head.

Thanks to you
, she replied.

I’ll be in touch. I just need to go say hi to the wife and kids.
The mental voice faded away, leaving behind a pang of regret. Jason’s new existence as a disembodied ghost inside a mental construct would be a shock to his wife, but it would be better than dealing with his death, she supposed. Or maybe not; it wasn’t as if he was going to be all that available in his current state. Oh, well, not her problem, and she had plenty of problems of her own.

At least it looked like things would be over soon. All she had to do was keep up appearances until Nebiru defused the booby traps threatening the Legion.

Then it would be time to settle accounts.

Dragon Wall, Republic of China/Empire of China, March 29, 2013

Olivia O’Brien was going to stop a war – or start it. Either way, the current state of affairs would come to an end.

She flew alongside the Dragon Wall, a huge white flag in her hands. Olivia had picked her spot with care, a sector of wall that covered an area thoroughly unsuited for the movement of troops, which meant only light forces would be covering it. Nobody from her side knew she was gone, at least not yet. When they did, there would be hell to pay.

It didn’t matter. She’d fight a war if need be, but not because people on her side thought it was
convenient
to have one.

Lightly-guarded sector or not, her nearness to the Wall did not go unnoticed for long. Three flying figures appeared over the horizon and rushed toward her, pausing on the Imperial side of the frontier. Two Celestial Warriors and one Noyan, an Imperial Knight in ornate golden armor.

“I seek an audience with the Emperor!” Olivia called out in Mandarin as soon as they were within shouting distance. “I ask for permission to cross the Wall and enter the Empire.”

“Go back where you came from, woman!” one of the Celestials shouted back. “Or we will cross the wall and enter
you
!”

She ignored the crude remark – Imperial views on women were far from enlightened – and spoke to the Noyan directly. “I have information that may prevent this war, a war that will benefit no one. I must speak to your ruler.”

The Noyan remained silent, content to let his loud-mouthed underling do the talking. “Bare your breasts, and maybe we’ll let you pass,” the Celestial said contemptuously.

“Why is the head of a turtle allowed to speak?” Olivia asked in an insulting tone; the term could also mean the tip of a penis. “Fornicate yourself, and your ancestors unto eight generations, and let humans talk.”

“I will kill you and fuck your headless corpse!”

She turned back to the Noyan. “Have I your permission to cross over to your side of the wall? If so, I will grant your yipping dog the chance to fuck my headless corpse.”

The Imperial Knight considered the request for a moment, then nodded curtly. Olivia floated over the energy wall, feeling it thrum with power as she passed over it. Blasts of pure heat could erupt from the Wall without warning – any air raid crossing into Imperial territory at any altitude below sixty thousand feet could expect twenty to forty percent casualties, just from going over the Wall – but the Noyan’s permission was enough to let her pass unharmed.

The chatty Celestial Warrior had no interest in letting her remain unharmed, however. As soon as she crossed over, he launched himself at her; crackling electrical arcs emerged from his clenched fists and he wielded them like a combination of whip and sword. Her fire shield and spear appeared in her hands – she’d dropped her white flag before flying over the wall – as she calmly waited for him. The simple choice – kill or be killed – and the rush she felt as she went into motion were welcome.

Olivia moved as he came into range. She slapped his lightning strike aside with her shield and in the same motion drove her flame spear into the Celestial’s snarling face. His protective aura crackled briefly before the fiery weapon smashed through it and the bone and flesh behind it. The man’s head exploded as superheated brain matter sublimated into gas.

The smoking corpse fell to the ground below, and Olivia turned toward the remaining Celestial and his Noyan leader.

The Imperials were laughing. “Well, I guess he did end up with a headless corpse to fuck!” the Celestial said. “Hey, Xi!” he called to the unmoving body below. “Go fuck yourself, you pig scrotum!”

The Noyan spoke at last. “You are truly Artemis, the living goddess. The Emperor himself has spoken highly of your prowess. Come. I will take you to him.”

* * *

Olivia had expected to be led to the capital city of Baotou, but the Emperor had taken to the field, and was far closer to the Wall than she’d realized. Her escorts guided her over a small tent city, protected by hover-tanks and energy weapon batteries, most of them purchased or copied from the Dominion. A quick glance showed that at least one mechanized infantry corps was bivouacking here, some thirty miles from the border, where they could meet any thrust that broke through the Dragon Wall – or launch their own attack on the Republic of China.

The Emperor was waiting for her, standing alone in an empty clearing, although she could see several score Celestials waiting at a respectful distance. He must have watched the entire episode at the Wall through the eyes of the Noyan knight. It was strange that he’d thrown away one of his Celestials just for entertainment purposes, but that was further evidence that his ‘Neos’ were for the most part humans granted superpowers, so numerous he considered them disposable. How many warriors was he prepared to throw at the Republic? Thousands? Enough to match the combined allied forces? She wished she knew.

“It is good to see you again, Mrs. O’Brien,” the Emperor said when she landed in front of him. He was wearing a practical silk outfit, richly embroidered but far simpler than his normal robes of office. It was identical to the one he’d worn during the previous war. “The last time we met we were unable to exchange many pleasantries.”

The last time they’d met, she’d hit him with everything she’d got, shortly after he’d tossed a multi-kiloton yield energy ball at several of her friends and colleagues, killing them and thousands of others. She’d hurt him, but not badly enough. If she tried to do so again, she’d last all of fifteen seconds before he destroyed her, and that was possibly an optimistic estimate. “Good evening, Your Radiant Highness, Son of Heaven, and all that,” she greeted him in a deadpan tone.

The Emperor chuckled. “Such impudence is refreshing, in small doses. You Westerners are utterly incapable of showing respect for rank; sometimes I despair that teaching you manners, after the Conquest is complete, will be an ultimately futile endeavor.”

“On the other hand, the Han citizens of the Republic of China have become accustomed to a society bereft of static hierarchies,” Olivia replied evenly. “I’m sure your subjects will adapt after the inevitable regime change.”

“And the time when those regrettable differences of opinion will be resolved appears to be at hand. Or have you come here hoping otherwise?”

“This war has been arranged by a third party,” Olivia said. “I know the Empire did not launch the attack on Freedom Island. Neither did the Republic. I don’t know who was responsible, but if given time to investigate, we will uncover the truth.”

“Ah. And yet, despite your belief I am innocent in all of this, the Republic and her American and Western running dogs have massed their armies on my borders, like so many spears pointing towards my heart. One would suspect that my guilt or innocence are no longer a concern. President Lao and his tame
Yuan
are eager to end my reign.”

“They are,” Olivia admitted. “But they won’t move without a pretext. All you have to do is refrain from striking first and providing them with one. Public opinion both in the ROC and the US will not allow the alliance to fire the first shot.”

“Pretexts can always be manufactured,” the Emperor replied. “The Japanese did so in Manchuria; the Germans, in Poland. I remember those actions well, Mrs. O’Brien. History may not repeat itself, but it does follow familiar patterns.”

“You know the Legion doesn’t want war,” she said. “We won’t allow the ROC to create an excuse to attack. Again, as long as you don’t provoke a response, we can defuse the situation.”

“The Legion. The vaunted defenders of humankind. What you fail to realize, my dear lady, is that your organization harbors the very mastermind of this entire situation. What you fail to realize is that you have long clutched a viper to your bosom. A viper by the name of Daedalus Smith.”

It felt as if an icy fist had gripped her heart. “What are you insinuating?”

“I do not insinuate. I speak plainly, and deal in facts. The man in the Myrmidon armor has been a traitor to your Legion, and to humanity itself, from the start. I learned as much while he was my guest at the capital, and since then he has colluded with the Dominion, my ‘peace-loving trading partner.’” He filled the phrase with scorn. “They plot to become the rulers of Parahumanity, in a misguided attempt to save the world, a duty that belongs solely to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. You have no idea what forces have been set in motion, since the day the Source arrived to this world and started handing out its gifts willy-nilly, like some drunken or perhaps insane version of your Santa Claus. I do, I and a handful of others, except that, other than myself, they were all warped and driven mad by the truth. That is why it is my duty and my destiny to bring the world to heel, before it destroys itself, or is destroyed by those madmen.”

“I…” A sudden burst of pain on both sides of her head silenced her. Her implants tore free from their bone housing and floated away. “What are you doing?” she shouted, calling for her fiery shield.

The Emperor didn’t move or react, although she saw the Celestials surrounding the meeting tensing up at her hostile gesture. “I assure you, young lady, that this is not my doing. In fact, the energy signature of the force that just struck you is well-known to me, and to you: it belongs to your fellow Legionnaire, Nebiru. A talented fellow: he is nearly my equal in versatility, if not in raw power. Oh, and you might want to step back; your devices are about to…”