Scrambled, page 4
part #14 of Directorate Series
Wicked glared. "You could just tell us where he is."
"I haven't actually got the faintest idea. And with luck I'll be too busy elsewhere to actually help you."
"He's your friend."
"Not really. No more than that woman down in Montevideo is my mother. But I would move mountains to not hurt her. Knowing she'd look at me blankly and wonder who the One Hell this nosey punk thinks he is pushing into her business. And . . . well, she does have a way with words."
A snicker from the other bed, where Utterly lay, fully dressed. "Yeah. I'm from Montevideo. Madam Castellanos . . . is verbal. I remember when she ran for the City Council. She came pretty damned close to unseating Uhra."
"She ran for City Council? That must have been awesome."
Ebsa leaned on the window sill. A faint blush of predawn light to the east, all the tall modern buildings silhouetted against deep blue. "I don't remember hearing that Paris had many quakes."
Reflected in the window, he could see the guards exchange glances.
Wicked shrugged. "They say they used to be quite rare. The central French area got one or two a decade. After the nuke . . . everyplace had more, but mostly in the known fault zones. They settled down after a year, then continued at a low rate for five years. Until we tested the new gate."
"No, really, they started picking up before that. Statistically they're related to the gate tests, but they still started before."
Ebsa turned around. "Testing components perhaps? Umm . . . shooting off a nuke in a gate . . . maybe the problem is in the inbetween, not in the gate. Maybe running the gate lets the inbetween affect us . . . you . . . more strongly."
"Oh, listen to the scientist."
"But if the problems, call them dimensional turbulence, started earlier . . . I wonder if the Earth that caught some of the blast through a gate was affected. Maybe they're testing their gate too. And the two worlds are linked somehow. Or three, Granite Peak might have been affected too. I wonder if it split?"
"You should write for the vids." Utterly shoved himself upright and frowned at him. "Do you know what you're talking about?"
"One Hell, no. I had a single intro to dimensional theory class at the Directorate School. Just ignore me." Ebsa drummed his fingers, turned away. "Damn, I wish I had my computer and com. I'd like to sic Disco on the Nuked Earth. Get the dates and times of their gate tests, or gate openings, and their earthquakes. Have to calculate the time slip . . . Urf! I hate waiting for politicians, especially since there's a fifty-fifty chance my claims haven't gone beyond Interior."
***
The next day was more of the same. He talked himself hoarse to anyone and everyone. They seemed a bit skeptical of Disco.
Can’t blame them. Xen Wolfson just isn’t believable.
They sent him back to the hotel early.
For lack of anything better to do with himself, he washed his briefs and socks.
Wicked snorted. "You going to take a hair dryer to your tighty whities?"
"It's that or go commando tomorrow." Ebsa threw himself back in bed. "Wake me up for breakfast."
Chapter Seven
It’s a Trap
12 Jumada 1400 yp
Nick eased up the street, trying to be unnoticed without actually using any magic. Because everyone was alert, scanning the street in puzzlement, recognition, or repugnance.
"I just don't . . . want any." The pretty girl, woman, turned away from a baffled and furious dealer. "I don't know what happened."
Nick was fairly sure this was one of the pros he'd . . . known. Hard to say, with maybe a quarter of the amount of makeup and her improbable shade of red hair just brushed back behind her ears. And while she wasn't wearing much, it was a lot more than . . . two nights ago?
"You!"
Nick spun, ready to strike out . . .
The man was clean shaven, hair recently cut. He was clean. His raggedy clothing was clean. And familiar despite the current lack of grunge.
Nick eyed him, and the man behind him. The Winos. My first victims . . .
"What was that you gave us?" The first man frowned at him.
The second man stepped around to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Also cleaned up. "We're cured. Our alcoholism is gone. Just like that. Neither of us wants a drink, nor drugs."
"Best rehab ever, mind you." The first man smirked. "But I want to know what was in the wine."
"Yeah, me too, honey." The redhead had come up behind him, making his nerves crawl. "What the hell happened? Everybody's . . . cleaned up. It's freakin' me out, here."
"Ah, Macy, you weren't ever dirty."
"Hush now, Inty, you know what I mean. I was hungry this morning . . . and I ate food. It's g’un to ruin mah figure."
Giggle. A blonde woman, this time. "Like, you know, you could use a few more curves." This one batted perfectly normal eyelashes at him. It beat the hell out of the creepy long gummed together ones of two nights ago.
She leaned on him. "And what I want to know is, how long will it last? I gave some to my sick old mama, just to cheer her up a bit, and she's, like, up running around, cleaning her apartment, you know?"
Nick swallowed. "It wasn't supposed to . . . escape into the wild. It's a whole collection of healing spells in potion form, and well, obviously an aphrodisiac as well. I think it must . . . spread."
"Oh Honey, it very definitely spread." Macy leaned in and leered at him.
And his dick twitched.
"And, umm, it takes awhile for the effects to wear off." And what if it doesn't wear off. All these former drunks and prostitutes . . . are they now law abiding citizens? Am I going to turn myself in to the One? Or . . . will Gamer turn me in . . . get herself killed.
He closed his eyes, trying to not remember that particular nightmare. A small earthquake, an aftershock of a big one a week earlier. The building swaying creaking, snapping . . . Holding . . . as he hustled the family out, everyone in the old apartment building fleeing. They'd run out the front door and there was Gamer, hands up and out, a shield plastered across half the building front, stabilizing it.
He'd yelled at everyone to get out into the street, away from the building. Police had come, people screaming and running, except for Gamer . . . standing there. Nick had ducked his head and hustled his people away from the building and away from the police.
One of them had recognized her, shot her, nearly missed, but he'd broken her concentration.
The building fell. Nick had doubled back through the chaos and clouds of dust and found her. Fainted from the strain on her power, not that he hadn't seen red when he'd spotted the blood on her shoulder.. He'd gotten her away, met up with the family at the preplanned spot, and started looking for a new home.
And the next day the headlines had screamed "Zoar Kills Five!"
They actually thought she'd damaged the building, not stabilized it long enough for nearly everyone to escape.
Another dye job, and with concentration, a slight shift of features, add a few years to her apparent age. A brief meditation every morning to maintain it, and she could hold down an assembly line job. A quarter of the family income depended on her.
Meisha had a part time secretarial job, Umaya bought and sold, repaired, and cleaned small electronics, mechanical things, and small electric motors . . . Car window motors alone brought in a steady trickle of cash. Nick worked construction, odd jobs, and when that failed, as it often did, stole.
We need to get enough ahead to buy fake ID for Abbas next. And then Hakim. The brothers were fourteen and twelve.
Nick rubbed the smooth edge of his ear. Maybe it's time for me to claim an identity. Bleach my hair just a bit. Pity I can't grow a beard. And if the cops are waiting for me, it'll all be a waste of time.
He stepped away from the winos and pros, walked down a street with people cleaning windows, sweeping sidewalks, one man was painting his storefront . . .
"Half the Red Zone's like this, Dude. That was a pretty damn potent potion." Blondie was following . . . oh hell, they all were.
"Go away."
"You're him, aren't you?"
"Go away."
"We could, like, use someone who can really kick ass to keep those foreign gangs away, you know."
Macy shook her head. "Cain’t be him, Seuz, on account of he didn't act like no eunuch."
Nick hoped he wasn't blushing. "And I'm not going to run around beating up Al Iadrah's goons, nor Fresco's. One of them will chase the other out of here soon enough, and you'll know who to pay your protection money to."
"But you're, like, you know, a rebel, a real freedom fighter. You could keep them both out of here." Blondie, Seuz, whoever, took his arm.
Nick shrugged away from unfamiliar sensations. "And then the police would descend like a flock of locusts and examine every crack and crevice of the Red Zone. I'd be gone, one way or the other, and the gangs would be back, feeling grudgy." Did I just say that? Practically admit who I am? "There's one of me and hundreds of them."
"But you'd have help." A deep voice, a man stepping out of the store ahead of him. Bulky, mostly with muscle, head shaved. More men behind him.
The Skinners. Bloody hell, they're all cleaned up too.
"We've having trouble with our garage . . . they won't leave us alone. They shot and killed Oggy. But if we all stand together, if we had that . . ." a raised finger dropped and pointed at him, "mystique. A rebel priest, possibly a Warrior, lives in our neighborhood, keep out!"
"There's a chance, you know. We could make it work." The little old man with the paintbrush still in hand had joined them.
"Oh. God. You people are all insane."
"And what about yer sister?" He pointed with the brush.
Nick looked . . . Gamer had followed him. "Oh . . . that's . . . dammit, she was trying to brace the building so everyone could get out. She wasn't knocking it down, there was an earthquake. Everyone felt it!"
They all looked at the lanky girl leaning casually on a wall and studying them.
And further down the street, cars . . .
"Run!" He yelled, and bolted past the paintbrush man. Glanced back. Gamer was gone, probably down an alley. He turned down one himself and sprinted. This isn't good . . .
Chapter Eight
Rescuing Maidens, etc.
12 Jumada 1400 yp
Ebsa rubbed his forehead. Reached high, felt the panicky attempts to think and not just blindly run . . . Southeast somewhere. Less than ten kilometers, else he wouldn't be able to grab those undirected thoughts.
He sauntered into the bathroom. "Gotta blow dry my undies. Have we got a schedule for today?"
Panic still building.
He grabbed the hair dryer and hung it over the rail, aimed it at his briefs and turned it on.
Felt the marble floor, the steel rails of the elevator shafts, the shape of the building . . . and stepped forward into the panic. Was knocked flat. By a familiar figure.
"Qamar?" He scrambled up, snatching at his towel. "Wait! I'm a friend, not exactly of Ra'd's . . . Where is he? Never mind . . . " He could feel men approaching at a run. Reached carefully and bent the light around them. He waved the wild-eyed girl to the side of the alley.
"Quiet. They can't see us."
She opened her mouth, shut it. The policemen ran past, slowing to look both ways at the cross alley. Consultations on their coms as they split up and hurried off.
"Who are you and why are you not dressed?"
"I'm Ebsa Clostuone and I met your brother two days ago. I was about to take a shower . . . we can't be too far from my, umm, safe house, so to speak. May I take you there?"
"The same way you popped out of nowhere?"
"Well, umm, no. I think we'd better walk. Umm, the first intersection I found was 281 and Potternoir street."
She eyed him under threatening brows. She looked even younger than when Ebsa'd first met her doppelganger. She shrugged and pointed. "That way."
Two alleys, only one . . . interesting . . . street crossing. Then down Potters whatever and down a familiar alley . . . where the dumpster was sitting right next to the puddle. Ebsa looked at the puddle. If anything it was smaller than when he arrived. Marks on the ground showed that this was not the first time the dumpster had been moved. He stepped and looked behind the dumpster. He reached behind, and felt the tingle of the gate. But he really couldn't squeeze in . . . Have to find a pry bar.
He looked at Qamar. "You're pretty skinny. Can you squeeze in? Just a meter. Tell Azko I'm still trying to talk to politicians."
"Azko?"
Ebsa pointed. "You'll find him. On the other side of the gate. Now this light warp is giving me a hideous headache. Please?"
She glowered . . . and squeezed in. Shoved deeper.
"Eep!" And she was gone.
Ebsa soaked up the feel . . . remembered marble tiles cold on his feet, the elevators . . . stepped back.
Hair dryer blowing. Cursing and thumping at the locked door.
He turned off the dryer, reached and opened the door. "Geeze guys, relax, I was just running around town having adventures and rescuing maidens."
They glared.
"I'll be right out." He closed the door and turned on the shower. His feet were filthy and he was leaving black footprints.
Time to clean up before they realize I need to clean up.
His socks were still a bit damp. He turned the hair dryer back on and left it running while he ate. And watched the news.
"Multiple simultaneous earthquakes worldwide while testing the gate?" He eyed the two agents. "I really think you guys need to talk to the experts about this. And that would be Dr. Quail Quicksilver of Disco. Please. This seems very odd, and apparently it's happened before, right?"
They gave back silence.
He shoveled in the last of the ersatz scrambled eggs, and dressed.
I really hope I'm bugged, and somebody is paying attention.
And probably a good thing I was running around town in nothing but a towel.
There were two small quakes while he sat and watched the news.
Utterly got a call and they headed out.
Urfa was back, with scientific backup. And then another familiar man walked in. Axti the Ax? Minister of Audits?
"And Presidential Director, Axti Withone Black Point."
Axti looked him over dyspeptically. "We have two problems and you seem to be mixed up with both of them. We'll leave the Azhole for now. We seem to have a dimensional gate problem that might be related to the worrisome uptick in earthquakes."
He looked Ebsa up-and-down. Frowned in disapproval. "What can you tell us about them?"
Ebsa bit his lip. "My specific assignment was to look this world over and report back as to whether we should contact you or not. But the context of the orders were that Disco—the Department of Interdimensional Security and Cooperation—umm, Disco's science branch reported that there was something weird going on.
"Specifically, several membranes orbiting each other. A behavior apparently not seen before. Q—Dr. Quail Quicksilver—was investigating the phenomenon. Other people were going to be exploring the other worlds, while we checked out this close relative." Ebsa leaned back and eyed them. "I think I need to go back to Disco and talk to them about this, and I see no reason I shouldn't take some scientists and diplomats with me."
That got suspicious looks from everyone in the room.
"That is . . . " The Ax broke off as the room shivered . . . started shaking hard . . . a picture crashed to the floor . . . the suspended ceiling warped, tiles popping loose, starting to drop . . .
"Urfa!"
Urfa looked over to where the Ax was standing braced, shielded. "I talked to Eggo earlier. The test gate is shut down. We're not doing this." He grabbed the door knob, jerked. Put both hands on the knob and pulled again, wrenched it open.
A crash of glass from out there, yells and screams.
"A gate! There's a gate opening!"
Everyone rushed the door, and in this crowd, Ebsa had no height advantage. He kept a shield overhead as ceiling tiles kept falling, the floor kept shaking.
And out the door into the two stories tall entry, formerly all glassed in, he could see the open plaza across the street. A vertical circle showing desert rock and sand, pavement, vehicles lined up and ready to cross . . .
Ebsa was grabbed and shoved up against the wall.
Furious Urfa in his face. "So, you're invading, are you?"
"No, sir. But I believe Earth's Gate complex is in the desert, and if you could return my com, I can call for help."
:: Azko! Can you hear me? ::
Nothing.
Other than being slammed back into the wall. "Calling your friend?"
"Azko, not Azho. A teammate who unfortunately is not within range."
Over Urfa's shoulder, he could see Axti being hustled away.
And the gate.
Best way to close it . . . "We need a large vehicle to jam in the gate. Is there a bus . . . "
Urfa jerked him away from the wall and threw him toward the street. What little discipline had been in the evacuation of the building evaporated as the last people bolted out and the building started crumbling. Urfa staggered, Ebsa grabbed his arm and staggered with him out into the street and kept going.
"So what's more dangerous, a falling building or an armed invasion?" Ebsa spotted Wicked and Utterly, and steered Urfa that direction. He flicked a glance back as the police building folded, collapsing mostly inward. Ebsa pulled his shirt up over his mouth as dust billowed.
A black car, covered with dust. Looks like a government vehicle . . . Ebsa jitter-stepped over to it. The quakes aren't stopping. I suspect they won't stop until the gate is shut. A glance at the gate. No vehicles had come through it yet . . . was the column starting to move?
