Scrambled, page 20
part #14 of Directorate Series
Nick took a quick sweep around, reinforcing the sleep spell, then they were off. Stopping once to shoot an Auroch, field dress it and, with difficulty, get it into the truck.
Nick backed the truck up to the Main Accounting steps, and lowered the ramp. They had plenty of help to unload, and Nick took off quickly.
“I’ll be back in, oh, two days probably, to hook the pipes up to your building’s water supply.”
General Fu and his troops were starting to stir.
Nick parked the truck in line and walked up to the front.
"Right. You guys head back. I'll keep an eye on them for another half hour. Make sure they've changed their minds about attacking us."
Kirk nodded. "I wondered if they were after us, or going around to hit the other Oners from the rear."
Nick looked down at Fu. "Maybe I should ask him. Now you guys get."
He nudged Fu. Dammit . . . I ought to just kill him. He crouched in front of the semi-aware man. Reached and merged with him.
Picked out the plan to circle around and catch the Oner’s from the rear.
Not after us, this time. Just thousands of civilians in those towers. Who are not my responsibility, but I will not just stand by and watch them be slaughtered.
He leaned mentally on Fu, and thought in Mandarin. :: They had gas of some sort. Let it off upwind. Knocked us all out. Nothing uncanny, no magic. I will not attack them again, never touch this group of civilians—it couldn’t be magic, could it? ::
That will do for conscious thought. Now let’s see about the subconscious and emotions.
Nick reached for an old memory, fear, terror. Stripped off the context and sent the pure emotion deep into the man. Magic! Danger! Avoid!
He eased out of the merge.
"We'll just see if that works. Maybe I won't have to kill you."
He walked down the line of trucks, trying to broadcast the fear.
Walked back and sat deep into the grass, with an illusion of grass on himself to watch them wake, stagger about in alarm, load everyone back into their trucks, turn and depart.
Excellent. But I'll have to keep an eye on them.
Chapter Forty-eight
Don’t Do It Again!
Spring 1409 px
28 Jumada 1411 yp
28 Jumada 1400 nyp
19 April 3528 ce
19 April 3513 ne
Xen Wolfson rested his elbows on the lectern and eyed the belligerent parties. "At a bare minimum, I trust that you realize that nuking a working gate is a really bad idea, damaging both parties?"
He got glares in return.
"We have learned that there are interactions between membranes, and with the inbetween that WE DO NOT UNDERSTAND. Please stop before you destroy yourselves."
The Ambassador from Nuked Earth (Dear God we need to find better names for them!) turned and glared at Ambassador Montgomery, from Earth Prime (Not that they accept even that modification.)
"And we want our colonies back, and our mining worlds. All of them."
Montgomery raised an eyebrow. "They stayed with us, but by all means, go talk to them. If there's any interest, I'm sure they'll vote on the matter." His smirk was not terribly well concealed.
Xen resisted an impulse to thump his head—or better yet, theirs—on something hard. Lon and Inso had both stepped aside—"Interested parties, you know"—and dumped this all in his hands.
"Gentlemen, I assure you, there are plenty of worlds out there that will have all the colonization potential and all the mineral riches you could want, and that no one else has claimed. Now, Ambassador Kellogg? Am I correct in my understanding that Nuked Earth had one planet being studied prior to colonization but that you had no personnel on the world when everything went sideways?"
Glare. "What of the other people who are missing? Half a company of soldiers who went through the gate to One World before . . . " A glare at the ambassador from the familiar One World. "Before an Agent from that world sabotaged our gate. A piece of the army HQ has disappeared, with over a thousand people, both soldiers and civilian employees. And, of course, Main Accounting, which has gone missing, both the building and most of the staff. A lot of our personnel on two mining worlds. And so far, damn few of them have been found."
Xen nodded. "Q informed me this morning that she's located one of the Mining Worlds. So now there's only three we haven't tracked down."
"That's our world! We own it."
Xen nodded. "It sounds very inhospitable. I doubt anyone stranded there has any interest in keeping it. A Disco team is organizing the movement of people. You should, we all should, have better information shortly."
The Nuked One representative scowled. "We have also lost personnel. Most of the Ministry of War, with, we believe, the Minister. More importantly, we've lost a slice of land containing four apartment towers. Nearly six-thousand of our citizens live there, and most were home at the time." He hesitated, shrugged. "You can keep the Red Zone."
Xen scowled at him. "We don't have it, Ambassador Ipit. We will keep searching for the three lost worlds. Hopefully we will find your lost personnel."
He glanced at his agenda. "We have designated an Empty World as the halfway point for refugees, from which they can head home or homestead there. Most of the non-Earthers we've found have opted to settle there. That world will not belong to anyone, and we'll leave up the gate to here, and close the gates to Nuked Earth and Nuked One, when we shut down the Rescue operations."
Ipit shifted, scowled . . . "We've lost . . . well . . . President Agni's youngest child."
Xen winced. "By now he's either joined a group, or . . . well . . . "
"We need to know. The president is . . . distraught."
"We're looking."
Old Gods, I didn't think about children separated from their parents.
Chapter Forty-nine
Bartering
1 Rajab 1400 ne
Nick eyed the delegation, and turned to look behind him. "Karima? Go find Enuf, tell him there are people here who want to buy gasoline. We'll be in the bar."
He looked back at the Guards. My enemies. Except . . . this batch always thought before they shot. And never shot at me. And then there's Dipper. "Come up, then, and we'll talk."
The black horses thought nothing of a mere meter's leap up to Rouge Street.
There were still ears laid back, but not pinned.
"The hormones must be wearing off."
Captain Ahco shot an exasperated look at the horses. "Sort of. Or maybe they've just learned to deal with it." They dismounted and tied the horses to the thin trees in front of the Red Zone Bar and Grill.
"Let's grab a table." Nick led the way inside. "And talk trade. Macy told us all about the coin making. A good idea, but someone or something has to guarantee its value or it is dead-on-arrival. So how are we going to do this?"
"Decide what we have that's needed by other groups?" Dipper was looking cautiously around.
Never been in a low class dive?
"A reasonable place to start. I suspect you all know I'm Nick. Captain Ahco and Deip I've met."
"Princess Zwiz and Lieutenant Ukhe. Ifki and Ojyc are out with the horses."
Nick caught the sound of motorcycles. Show offs.
Enuf, Yipes, and Pits walked in. At least one of the others stayed outside, chatting with the guards out there. Approaching auras, childish voices. The kids have come to see what's going on. Must get some tables for the school and get that underway.
Ahco sat up and eyed the cans the Skinners were carrying.
Enuf didn't waste any time. "Twenty liters of gasoline. We want a horse."
Ahco blinked. "A . . . horse."
"Yep. Eventually we'll run out of gas and the bikes will be grounded forever." Enuf shrugged. "We want mobility, and that means we need horses. We'll start with one, see how it goes, how the prices . . . how the value of horses and gasoline vary."
"I . . . technically don't own those horses. The government does."
"I technically don't own the gasoline. I suppose if we get rescued, the value of the horses will drop like a rock, but I can get fuel for the bikes, so I won't want them any longer. Shall we start with twenty liters and one horse?"
Ahco sighed. "Right, twenty liters for one horse."
Fuzzy stuck his head through the door. "We want the one they're calling Blotto."
Ahco raised his eyebrows. "Interesting choice. I wonder why?"
Pits laughed. "New View's out there looking at their auras. He must be the nicest one."
"Well, he was until he had some zowie juice. Good reliable horse." Ahco put his elbows on the table. "Now let's talk about the value of a saddle and bridle . . . "
Once Enuf had departed to get another ten liters, Nick took the Guards across to the grasslands on the other side. They all cringed at the sight of the mare.
"She's healing." Nick hesitated, and didn't mention how very well she was healing, how much worse she'd been on the first day. "But she's still having trouble eating. The girls are chopping up grass and hand feeding her."
Half of those girls abandoned Blotto and climbed through the fence to hug Black Beauty. "She needs us!" "Don't take her away!" "We love her!" in a chorus.
Dipper looked at the girls petting the mare and shook her head. "I can't believe she survived that."
Ahco nodded. "Poor Zombie. Now she looks like her name."
Indignant denials from the girls, and repudiation of the name.
"You've got water pipes laid out to here?" Zwiz turned on the faucet by the big bucket. "And good water pressure. How do you manage that?"
Nick grinned. "Oh, now there's another thing to trade . . . I took a look at your water system the last time I was over there. I can set you up with something much better that will use a whole lot less fuel . . . "
***
He loaded the truck with pipe and gave a ride to Captain Ahco with his cans of gasoline. Marco and Abbas came to help. Hakim and Zog were nowhere to be seen, but they were too young anyway.
By the time they had a well delivering water to the upper floors of all the apartment buildings, he ex-officially owned "Zombie" and was trying to figure out how to negotiate with the Ministry to supply water there.
"At the rate my relationship with Ijje is deteriorating, you really don't want me to help." Ahco shrugged. "The Minister is about healed, then we'll see if some sense has been knocked into his head."
"I won't hold my breath." Nick looked around. "I never ran the numbers. You have seventeen people to guard several thousand civilians?"
"Five thousand three hundred and forty-two. I'm trying to teach them to hunt. At least a few of them show some interest."
"Don't you have gardeners?" He looked up at the tall buildings. "Farm girls who moved to the big city? We need to share knowledge. And do you have a school? We've got a couple of hundred kids."
"Ninety-three. Mostly teenagers. Another thing I hadn't considered."
"We'll have to get a cross-grasslands school rivalry going. That I know of, the Earthers don't have any children."
"Do they have civilians?"
"Oh yes. Their Main Accounting building came through intact. Three hundred office workers, many old, a few in wheelchairs. Two security guards. Nice people actually. If your Minister tries to attack civilians, I'll stop him. You."
On which threat, he climbed back into the truck and drove off.
Back at the camp, Nick eyed the roasts over the glowing coals. "So . . . looks like we don’t need to hunt. You guys up for some more demolition work? That hardware store's got metal roof panels, and solar cells as well. And a garden department, with a nursery.”
“Are there any books? Someone said a mall had collapsed.” Miss Boot marched up and folded her arms. “I need books, paper, pencils and pens for the school. And, in fact, tables and chairs. And for you lot to finish the pavilion.”
Nick nodded. “It’ll be easier to raid the Tower offices and apartments. Want to come with us?”
Yes! Miss Boot to the rescue! One thing I am not responsible for.
Other than moving furniture, but that’s the easy part.
Chapter Fifty
Priests and Ministers
3 Rajab 1400 ne
Captain Ahco turned away from the cycling docbox and eyed the priest. Finally on his feet, six days after being prematurely cycled out of that same docbox.
"Feeling better, sir?"
The man eyed him. Shrugged. "It's rather hard to say. Physically I'm much better, but I'm still having trouble emotional and mentally. Without the presence of the One, I feel like the ten year old boy they kidnapped over a hundred years ago. I have memories that are . . . like the memory of a book I've read. Not a life I've lived. And . . . I can't tell what is my life and what is someone else's. I keep finding memories of things that happened before I was born." His voice was high and soft, vague and detached.
Ahco thought that over. "That's . . ." terrifying. "That would be . . . "
"This is what they do to the children they steal. Some boys are tougher minded, not as submerged in the one mind. But most of us . . . are never allowed to have an adulthood, to mature and grow." He looked away. "I think I hate them."
Ahco felt a chill, the quiet unemotional delivery . . . was not even close to normal.
"One . . . "
"No, not any longer. I am Izpo Withione Alcairo. Call me Poe. I need to find a place to live, a job to do." He looked down at himself. "Clothes."
"I think that can be arranged." Ahco turned for the outer doors. Spotted Booze—Princess Zoob—and waved her down. "Have you guys got a list of empty apartments? Poe needs a place to stay and clothing."
Booze looked the former priest over, and nodded. "We've got a list, including the sizes of clothing abandoned there. Looks like you'll need one of the lower floors."
The pale man nodded. "At least until my legs have finished healing and my muscles built up more strength. And . . . is there anything anyone needs doing? I need to work, to . . . earn a place in the community."
An elderly couple turned and stared. "But you’re a Priest!" the man sounded horrified. "You shouldn't have to do anything."
Poe looked baffled. "But we always had tasks. Things that needed to be done. On top of . . . of listening to the people, to everyone. I will help here as well. What do you do?"
"We're retired. We have our pensions." The woman frowned at Ahco. "The government takes care of us."
Ahco boggled. One! She's right. We've been doing entirely too much for too many people.
"But we're marooned here. There are no pensions, nor, for that matter, a government." Still in that soft mild voice. "I think that tomorrow I will walk out and see what edible plants I can find."
The sputtering couple looked at the priest and then turned on Ahco.
"Surely you don't intend to make us . . . do what? Pick berries?" The woman was clearly aghast. "I am Former Subminister of Finance Zeux Neartuone New York, and my husband is Doctor Wjdi Withione Caracas, Professor Emeritus of the Paris Institute of Technology."
Ahco eyed them. Active looking, healthy. Clearly well into their second century, but with no obvious infirmities. "Berries would be nice. But I recommend going in a group, with a guard."
"What!"
"In case of predators." Ahco looked back at Booze. "Find Poe an apartment. I've got to see if the Minister is . . . To see how the Minister is doing."
Booze had her lips pressed firmly together, but the laughter shone in her eyes.
Yeah, funny the first time, but there are going to be a lot of upset people when word of this gets around.
Heh. Maybe I can refer all complaints about the lack of government pension guarantees to MacU. Keep him too pestered to restart his miniature war.
***
Ahco stood well back and watched the Minister of War being manhandled like a baby. Rather like a Royal Heir being born with plenty of witnesses.
Ijje hovered, grumbling about how they ought to have left him in longer, as the man coughed and spat to clear his lungs of the repair matrix fluids.
"What . . . " Hack, cough, spit, "happened?"
"We retreated in good order, and got you into the docbox." Ijje edged forward. "You can read the repor . . . " He stopped at a snarl from the minister.
"Retreated! Where's Major Atzw?"
"Dead, and forty other men. We were outnumbered, and not trained for the mission."
"You are Army!" Cough, retch, spit.
"Retired. Half the Guards are over sixty, and even the young ones aren't as fit as we ought to be. And we've trained as guards, not soldiers."
"Don't give me excuses." The minister managed a credible snarl before he started coughing again. He glared at Dr. Edrw. "Do something about this!"
The doctor shook his head. "No. Coughing is the most efficient, least damaging, and least painful way to clear your lungs. Keep it up. You'll be fine in another ten minutes."
More coughing and spitting. "I feel like the One’s own Hell!"
"Yes. The docbox has done all it can. You'll need to rest quietly for another week at a minimum, and then gradually build your strength up to normal."
The minster spat, sat up, and looked around the makeshift ICU. Eyed Ijje, frowned. Eyed Ahco.
"Captain Ahco, what would you recommend to eliminate the Earthers?"
"At the moment we are badly outnumbered. We need to recruit from the civilian population, and also start some specialized training among your current guards."
Ijje glared. "What?"
"Shields. Your people didn't have even rudimentary physical shields to protect the Minister, let alone themselves. That has to be addressed immediately. If there are insufficient men capable of shielding, we'll see about the recruits. A lot of the residents of the apartment towers are With' and Near'."
Ahco looked the Minister in the eye. "The next battle, we need to fight like Oners."
