New Olympus Saga (Book 3): Apocalypse Dance (14 page)

Catskill Mountains, New York, March 29, 2013

John Clarke kept punching the featureless white walls of his prison, ignoring the agony the impacts sent through him. Neither his body nor the walls were real; his mind was trapped in a mental construct. His struggle was real, however; if he could shatter the walls, his mind would be released. Unfortunately, it was taking time he feared he didn’t have to spare.

“Relax, Johnny; it’s all over.”

The familiar voice brought him around. Daedalus Smith was standing in the middle of the room, wearing his trademark Myrmidon armor, except for the helmet, leaving his smirking face uncovered.

John hurled himself at his tormentor – and sailed harmlessly through him, smashing into the wall behind his target.

“I said, relax. Do you think I’d drop by in any form you could hurt?”

“It was worth a try. Anything, just to get my hands on you.”

“Well, pally, you needn’t bother. Your friends took you out of your cell in what I’m told was a very dramatic breakout right from Freedom Hall. A wholly unnecessary breakout, it turns out, since that bimbo carbon copy of yours, Hyperia the Ultimate Blonde, uncovered enough evidence to exonerate you and went public with it about an hour after your escape. Sometimes even the dumb get lucky.”

“Why haven’t I woken up, then?”

“Your mind, such as it is, got buried very deeply indeed. Even without the mental locks, it’s going to take a bit for you to claw your way out, as it were. It won’t be much longer, but I figured I’d take the opportunity to have a last chat with you.”

John didn’t trust anything the traitor had to say. “Very well, say your piece and get the hell out.”

“So surly; it’s rather unbecoming, coming from a role model. Oh, well. You won’t have me to kick around anymore. I made contingency plans in case things blew up in face, which they literally did a couple of times in the last twenty-four hours. You could waste time chasing after me, or you can deal with a more urgent matter.”

Daedalus paused, but John didn’t give him the pleasure of asking him to go on. “All right, I’ll just tell you. My ex-partners in the Humanity Foundation are sailing a freighter carrying a thermonuclear device to the Big Apple. In case that’s too many big words for you, that means it’s a big fucking bomb, John. They’re going to blow New York to save the world from us parahumans. If the attack is successful, Neolympian powers will be disrupted all around the planet. Type Threes like you will likely not survive the power loss; your metabolism depends too much on the Source.”

“If what you say is true, why are you telling me? I’d think getting rid of us would serve your purposes. You’ve always been jealous of me and others like me.”

“Well, yeah. That’s why I helped those wealthy idiots. Unfortunately, something else has come up. You know there are about half a dozen halfway-decent precogs in the whole planet. The Legion has two, but neither of them is all that sharp, although I figure they’ll hear the news eventually, just not in time to do you any good. I’ve got three, and they just let me know that if the Humanity Foundation manages to depower parahumanity, the planet is toast in just under a year. As in, everyone will die if that bomb goes off. Now, losing the planet would not suit me, John. Everything I did, I did to save the world, believe it or not. So I suggest you get cracking and find that bomb. You’ve got maybe thirty hours before they set it off. And no, I don’t know where they’re taking it; they didn’t tell me, the little bastards. Tick-tock.”

John tried to say something in reply, but everything became hazy and indistinct, and when he managed to focus his vision, he was lying on a sofa in fancy parlor.

“John! You made it!” Christine Dark said, leaning over him. “I sensed you were waking up. Glad to see your mind is in one piece, although I know something is worrying you.”

“Yes. We have a problem,” he said, sitting up. “But I’m glad to see you’re all right and among friends.” Cassius was there as well; he grinned at John as he walked up to him.

“It’s good to see you again,” Cassius said. “But there are a few things you should know…”

A number of people were crowding the room, including a man who looked eerily familiar and yet remained a stranger. Another one of the guests was hanging back, and as soon as John got a good luck at him, he knew why. “What the hell is this?” he growled; his muscles tensed, ready to pounce on his archenemy.

Hiram Hades looked back at him; his unflinching stare showed no fear, but lacked the feverish brightness that usually sparkled in the mad genius’ eyes.

“Wait, John,” Cassius said, interposing himself between the two.

“Not Hiram Hades!” Christine added. “He’s a clone and he tots disapproves of his creator’s life choices! For real, I scanned him thoroughly, and he’s not a bad guy!”

A lifetime spent controlling any sudden impulses and urges helped stay his hand, as much as the words of Cassius and Christine did, if not more so. He was Ultimate, and he did not act without thought; one of the symptoms of his induced madness had been the breaking of that covenant he’d made with himself long ago. The fact that he could stop himself was the best indication that he had finally been cured, and the rushing relief he felt helped staunch his initial burst of rage.

“Very well,” he said. “In any case, we all have more important things to worry about. I received a parting gift from Daedalus Smith before I woke up…”

Freedom Island, Caribbean Sea, March 29, 2013

“Do you think he was lying?” Ali Fiori asked John over the vid-com. The joy at seeing her friend up and about had been quickly doused by his announcement of yet a new crisis. “And why didn’t he give you the name of the vessel, or something useful?”

“I think he was being truthful, but he figured that devoting most of our resources trying to find the bomb will give him more time to hide.”

“Well, we’re going to try and do both,” Ali replied. “Interpol is looking for him, but he was right about one thing; we only have so many clairvoyants and psychics available, and we need to put them all to work trying to find the bomb.”

“It must be shielded from all forms of scrying,” John said. “Otherwise, all the precogs on the planet would have sensed the coming of a catastrophe of this magnitude.”

“PSI-INT is mostly a matter of quantity over quality. Now that we know what we’re looking for, between the Legion and MK-Ultra we’ll burn through their shielding sooner or later.”

“I’m worried about what happens if it’s later,” John replied. The Coast Guard and the Navy were stopping and searching every vessel on the shores of the Eastern US, a monumental task. “My worry is that the device may have been offloaded already; it might already be in New York. If Daedalus’ games result in the deaths of millions…”

“We won’t let that happen, John,” Ali said with more certainty than she really felt. “Meanwhile, we really could use you back at the Island.”

“Not quite yet, Ali,” John said. “I think I can do more good on my own right now, rather than jumping through bureaucratic hoops until I can fully clear my name. Once New York is safe, I’ll be happy to do all the paperwork. You’ll be fine; you handled the crisis better than most regular Councilors would have. I wish you’d joined the Council sooner, and come next election I’ll be happy to endorse you.”

“Just what I always wanted,” Ali said, rather unconvincingly. “But you’re right, all that crap can wait. Just try to save the world without getting yourself into more trouble.”

“I will. Take care, Ali.” John hung up.

Ali got back to work. They had a bomb to find and two thirds of the Legion, including most of its intelligence assets, were still halfway around the world thanks to the now-cancelled Third Asian War. That had clearly been part of the plan, and even with Daedalus’ warnings, the plan had a good chance of success. If the bomb had arrived to New York, it could go off at any time.

Time was running out, if it hadn’t run out already.

Catskill Mountains, New York, March 30, 2013

Adam Slaughter-Trent listened and considered a course of action.

“Thaddeus Twist,” Lady Shi said. “He’s at the very least one of the leaders of the Foundation.”

Piecing together the puzzle that was the Humanity Foundation had taken them two hours. Condor’s computer system had been a big help, even after getting access to the Legion’s own networks. The vigilante’s files covered some areas where the Legion’s intelligence had been inadequate – or possibly deliberately altered. But Lady Shi had been the most helpful asset they had. The former Smith operative had acted as a courier and go-between for Daedalus. After comparing notes there was little doubt who their target was.

Thaddeus Twist. His Kenneth-self had met the man personally several times over the years. The billionaire had been a very active philanthropist, and the two of them had run in the same rarefied circles. Twist had always been an unabashed anti-Neo bigot, although his activities had always seemed to be legal and non-violent. In a way, the connection was so obvious it almost rang false, until you added the suspicious coincidences: several deliveries of intelligence documents and Neo devices had occurred at times and places where Twist had been nearby. Chastity Baal’s hard-earned information, obtained from the Dominion’s own computer systems, also showed links to Twist-owned subsidiaries and deliveries linked to the construction of the flying fortress that had attacked Freedom Island. It all fit.

Legally, it would be impossible to touch the man, however. The paper trail linking the suspicious activities to Twist himself was circumstantial at best, even discounting the dubious provenance of the information itself. A halfway-competent lawyer would get the accusations laughed off any court. Passing on the evidence to the US government would be unlikely to produce any results, not in time to do any good. Twist had too many friends there: not among the party currently in power, nor with the Neo US President, but with the permanent government, the men and women manning the diverse agencies and departments; those underlings would drag their feet and warn Twist of the accusations against him. His Kenneth-self found himself facing an impossible set of choices.

Kenneth Slaughter was only half of who he was, however.

“Where is Twist now?” he asked.

Condor had the information at his fingertips. “He’s in D.C., as a matter of fact. His schedule is not a matter of public record, but it’s out there in several poorly-secured systems, including his secretary’s private calendar. He’s got a meeting with some lobbyists on K-Street until… oh, twenty minutes from now. What..?”

Jump.
The Word became reality, and Adam vanished into the dark before Condor could finish his question.

Washington, DC, March 30, 2013

Something had gone wrong. Thaddeus Twist kept up with appearances and hoped whatever it was wouldn’t derail the final stage of the Plan.

His silent partner had suddenly gone from renowned Legion leader to wanted fugitive, and had dropped off the face of the Earth. That knowledge wasn’t public yet, but quiet bulletins had gone to the Interpol, FBI and MK-Ultra, and Thaddeus had contacts within all three agencies, all of which were full of humans who resented the false gods who’d usurped their rightful place. He’d read copies of the bulletins within minutes of their issuing. Daedalus was suspected of murder, terrorism, conspiracy and a myriad other charges. He’d been named as a co-conspirator in the murder of Doctor Martin Cohen, the man that Ultimate had been accused of killing, which meant the Invincible Man would soon be exonerated. Close scrutiny of Smith’s activities might link him to Thaddeus and his own secret conspiracy. It would only take one mistake along the way, and it would all come out; it was all but impossible to completely erase one’s tracks in today’s age. Even more worrisome, Mr. Night had not returned any calls for quite some time now. He feared the worst.

Hopefully none of that would matter. The device would be ready within the hour. A casually-worded readiness report, hidden in an innocuous-looking e-mail, had confirmed things were on schedule. The wheels of justice couldn’t turn fast enough to stop the Plan, not when its fulfillment was mere minutes away.

Daedalus Smith had connived at the destruction of his own kind. The Neo had met with him some years ago, and confirmed everything Thaddeus had feared: parahuman numbers and power levels were growing at increasing rates. Sooner or later, they would destroy the world, by accident or design. Such an eventuality was all but inevitable, unless something was done to stop it. Daedalus was willing to risk his own life to avert such an outcome.

They had agreed to a plan designed to cull Neolympian numbers by instigating a Third Asian War. As the plan progressed, however, Daedalus had revealed he’d discovered the location of the Source, the alien artifact that had created the Neo Problem in the first place. He suggested that a nuclear device set off in proximity to the Source would temporarily shut it down, buying them some time, if nothing else.

Thaddeus had decided to up the ante, of course. If a mere multi-kiloton device could cause a disruption, why not try for a more drastic result? He’d used a significant percentage of his fortune and combined human and parahuman technology to build the most powerful bomb in history, a bomb that would be used as the trigger for a channeled energy discharge that would pierce the Source with astronomical levels of radiant energy. Given how little they knew about the alien creation, it was anybody’s guess as to whether the explosion would permanently destroy it, but at the very least the disruption might last long enough for humanity to wipe out the weakened monsters and try to figure out a permanent solution.