by Pam Uphoff
"Important? I never heard about him doing anything?" The man looked puzzled. "Maybe it just wasn't newsworthy?
"Good Heavens!" Mom sounded affronted. "The great-grandson of both Ivan the Founder and Dr. Axel von Richter! It would have been all over the news! Not important! Humph!" She turned, nose in the air and strode away.
Dina snickered.
The man looked at her and shrugged. "I didn't mean to be offensive. Umm, if you see him, could you give him my card? I'd like to talk to him."
She took the proffered card and trotted away. And around the corner, before she looked at it. Evgeny Chernov, Imports, Exports. With two addresses and phone numbers. Here and Regulus.
Oh! A spy from Regulus. Now that makes sense.
Now if only I had a way to contact Axel.
She bit her lip. Can I use this sense of Axel to contact him? I don't think he "feels" me the way I feel him. But I could experiment. Try to contact him.
She barely glanced at the book rack, and followed her mother to the check out.
And of course she had no training at all, since she was a girl. But she curled up comfortably in her reading chair and reached for that feel.
Concentrating, writing a report . . . four widows they were going to use in an experiment to extract living zivvy . . .
:: Evgeny Chernov, Imports, Exports. Regulus. 345-957. 2534 Ozero Street. ::
And felt his consternation as he realized what he just written.
:: Love you, Red and Brown. ::
And laughter, and in return a flood of something happy and very hug-like.
:: Dina! You always surprise me. Have you found a spy for me? ::
:: He found us, followed us to a store. Mom snubbed him, so he handed me his card. ::
Another mental hug. :: I'll check him out. Be careful! ::
Everything faded out then and she was just sitting in her chair, shaky with hunger.
I can telepath!
She grinned and headed for the kitchen.
Where she could see her mother glowing. And humming happily. Dina gave her a hug and frowned. Grabbed a bottle of apple juice from the fridge and sat down to analyze what was different about her mother's glow. Other than brighter . . . "Mom, how much of my medicine did you take?"
Her mother looked around and grinned. "Oh, I diluted it and had just a bit for seven days."
Dina sipped juice and shook her head. "You have this weird effect, like double shadows, when there's light from two directions?"
Her Mom frowned at her.
"Sorry. I'm just getting used to this all over again."
"Me too. Not that I had much. Dina . . . you have a shadow too. Only it's not a shadow . . . it's like a reverse of a shadow, an extra spot of glow . . . Oh . . ."
"Oh what?" Dina eyed her Mom's growing shock.
Her mom gulped. "Oh, that's how doctors diagnose pregnancies. Dina did that man . . ."
Dina got her mouth closed. "Actually, I sort of ambushed him . . . but I get my shot every quarter . . . except . . ."
"Everything got so strange, I didn't take you down for it, didn't even think about it." Mom looked down at her belly. "I'm too old for this to be happening."
"And I'm too unmarried for this to be happening . . . but it looks like we are anyway."
"Mitty is going to . . ."
Dina sputtered a laugh, then sobered. And what is Axel going to think?
A ding at the door.
Mom popped the security screen on . . . A man in a delivery uniform carrying a box. "If that's more books, you're going to have to drop a hint about book cases . . ." She headed for the door.
Dina giggled . . . glanced at the screen . . . "Mom . . . that's not the usual delivery guy . . ."
Chapter Fifty-one
Siege
December 21, 3739
"So Mr. Var, what do you think of that?"
Barf pulled his eyes down and away from the hulking "industrial sized" capacitors, and the long rails. All under a big tent-like structure to keep it hidden from surveillance drones and satellites.
"I'd heard that rail guns weren't terribly useful, due to their very high energy needs . . . and I don't think they used to make them that big?"
Murph grinned. "Yeah, but this collection of Mad Scientists . . ." The big Cyborg strolled out in front of the . . . monstrous thing and parted the tarps to look down the road that climbed the side of the massif.
"Lined up perfectly."
Barf eyed the set up. "I really hope that eight tanks . . ."
"Armored Gun Carriers. Their armor isn't quite thick enough to call them tanks."
"And the rock outcrop behind them is enough to stop it, because there's a whole lot of city behind that."
Murphy chuckled. "The Boss asked the same thing, and Dr. Mikhailov assured him it was perfectly safe. He's talked to the police and they're evacuating the area."
"Ah, I see." Var squinted across the distance, compared it to the map in his mind . . . well, the electronics screwed to his skull . . . "And with just a little elevation . . . the fairgrounds where they've parked their munitions is . . . possibly in range?"
"Yep. The problem being that they've started collecting hostages."
"Umm . . . Lord Axel had plans to move the Boss's family . . ."
"Yep." Director Rasputin walked up beside them. “They’re as safe as I can make them.”
Inquisitor Gorbachev a step behind him, looked like an ordinary middle-aged man without the red robe. "And my family is visiting my wife’s family on Regulus. Unfortunately Governor Berezin's family are now guests of Colonel Lehr, along with several other Councilmen's families."
Barf winced. "Planned well, did he?"
"No, but he did manage operational secrecy." Director Rasputin's lips tightened. "Mr. Var? Please call Lord Axel and inform him that his neighbors, Lord Mitrofan Gagarin, his wife and daughter are missing, and may be among the hostages."
Barf swallowed. "Hostages for Senior Detective Gagarin or for Lord Axel?"
The Boss shrugged. "They must be on Lehr's list of who might have helped Axel when he escaped. They're certainly on mine."
Murphy slanted a look at Barf. "And do you know?"
"His Lordship might have said something about Miss Dina saving his ass." He cleared his throat. "That is, something about cleverly sneaking him past all the guards at his own house."
Murphy elbowed him. "Stop enjoying the snobbery. What's he likely to do, and what sort of help does he need."
"Dunno, this is the first time I've seen him in anything but practice." Barf pulled out the phone and tapped the "A" button.
"The Stutties are collecting hostages. Your neighbors are missing, and may be among them."
A long cold silence. Then, "Tell the boss I'll check on that."
The connection died before he even got his mouth open.
Murph nudged him. "What did he say?"
"That he'd check on that." Barf looked from one to the other. "What does that mean?"
"That we should draw out any negotiations as long as possible."
"Oh. So he has plenty of time to . . . check." Barf looked out over the city. That's the warehouse district, and our warehouse would be about there . . . Not too far from the fairgrounds.
But what can one man do?
Chapter Fifty-two
Always be Polite to Policemen
December 21, 3739
Vlad stared up at the Malta massif. Almost thirty miles long, running northwest to southeast, the city wrapped around the southeastern end, and spread westward for about ten miles, and sprawled out over the valley floor for another five miles, to Long Lake.
"Only two vehicular entries. I wonder how long the siege will last."
Forty-one snorted. "They don't want to risk damaging the zivvy, otherwise they'd have brought in tanks already." He turned into the back police lot and pulled up to check the car back in.
"Much safer to starve them out, I suppose." Vlad got out and stretched. "I
wish Axel would contact us."
"Dina still thinks he's Across?"
"No, she said he was back. How, I don't want to think about."
Forty-one nodded. "I feel so different . . . I'm practicing mentalist powers. And I thought I was perfectly normal, before I drank that wine. Same with Dina. She's got her brain back, along with the talent."
"And she's suddenly smart, and suddenly . . . aware of so many things."
"And so happy." Forty-one gave him a casual wave and headed inside.
Vlad strode across the parking lot and then up to his office. It feels so strange not writing a report about the death of the two Cyborgs. But it looks like I have some memos to catch up on.
"You!"
Vlad looked up and frowned. "Problem, Schweiger?" Oh, my. Whoever roughed him up deserves a medal.
"You are in control of your police cyborgs, and you'd better stop letting them run wild!"
Vlad blinked. "Excuse me? I'm coordinating the integration of forces. I may be in command, but I don't control anyone. What exactly is the problem?"
"We're collecting the families of dissidents so they don't have any support structures . . ."
Vlad felt a chill all down his spine. "I dismissed as just a silly rumor that Lehr was pressuring the Councilmen who voted to order the Stutten off our World."
"Don't call us mares!"
"Are you 'collecting' the families of politicians in order to influence their vote?" Vlad heard the growl in his voice.
"We are simply assisting in pacifying a small number of troublemakers . . . and I'd advise you to moderate your tone with me. We already have your family."
Vlad went cold.
"Hopefully this will get your precious Igor under control."
"Get out of my office before I kill you."
A snort of contempt. "Threatening an Agent of Stuttgart is a capital offense. If you so much as glance at a weapon, you're as good as dead."
Vlad had just enough control to realize that he was an average Mentalist, with a reach of five or six feet . . . before he planted both hands flat on his desk, stood up and leaned toward Schweiger.
"Please go back to Colonel Lehr and tell him that kidnapping is a capital offense, and that while he has us outgunned, that just means it'll be costly to get rid of him, not that it won't happen."
Schweiger grinned and leaned to get in his face. "It's too disgusting to do myself, so I'll have one of the Cyborgs rape your sister."
Pure reflex.
The needle punch through the skull.
The hard snap of a Mentalist's death.
Schweiger collapsed across his desk, and slid back out of sight.
Chief Detective Bychkov stood in the doorway looking flummoxed.
Chief of Police Nestor Naoumov elbowed him out of the way. "Damn. I wanted to be the one who got to do that."
Vlad nodded. "But I think I may have just done something very foolish. And perhaps Mr. Agent of Stuttgart should disappear."
The two chiefs rounded up the deputies who were staring at Vlad's office and took them off to a conference room for a briefing on the new situation.
The clean-up squad took one look at the not-a-Cyborg-this-time and started grinning. "About time someone took out that son of a bitch. Can I give the word that it's on?"
Vlad nodded. "Yeah. It's on."
Chapter Fifty-three
Hostages
December 21, 3739
"And to think I used to hate this building."
Dina looked over at her father and grinned. "But Dad! It's a historical treasure! The first Power generator on Siberia Max! Well, the building. And so strongly built, too! It was like they expected a gas turbine to explode or something."
Her dad snorted. "Like it did? But it's built like a bunker. I suppose it worked as the fair's Arts and Crafts building, despite the lousy windows and so forth." He glanced at the dark corner.
Where we put the bodies. Dina shivered. But after what everyone said they did to that girl they took away, we couldn't let them take another. The other hostages all felt, those of them with any talent, her terror and pain. And soon enough they'll stop trying to open the doors the nice way and either bring in someone who can slash them open, or bring in a cutting torch, or something.
Maybe I shouldn't have welded them shut . . . Axel's coming and we'll need to leave pretty soon. But nothing else would have kept them out for long enough.
She closed her eyes and checked . . . they were going to try the roof again. She pointed and Dad collected the older boys again for an Octagon of power.
They keep threatening to chip the boys and rape the girls. I wish I was strong enough to kill the officers . . . and those Cyborgs of theirs aren't much like Forty-one. Or any of the other police Cyborgs I met before I was chipped.
I guess Vlad knew what he was talking about when he told me they were just men, with a few replacement parts. Good or bad, honorable or untrustworthy, polite or rude.
And these guys are just flat nasty excuses for human beings.
"Damn, they've got a truck mounted lift this time . . . everything's metal."
Dina gulped. "Is there really a rust impression, like in my books?"
"Not that I know of." Dad turned to the watchers. "All right boys, let's see about a slash, right through the concrete and hard enough to still do some damage out there."
The boys, sixteen and seventeen years olds, with a tiny bit of training, reached out their hands to form an octagon.
Dina backed away, tightening her shields. Eight men working together is awesome!
There was a bright flash of power, screams, barely heard inside, and multiple death flashes, that no mere concrete could soften.
Now it's just a matter of them starving us out, or they stop worrying about killing some of us to get ahold of the rest of us.
Chapter Fifty-four
Igor Goes To The Fair
December 21, 3739
"I have no idea how many hostages they're holding, which is why I had you drive one of the big extended vans and Rory the other." Axel eyed her glower. "No, you can not come into their encampment. It's very much an all male establishment."
Natasha's scowl faded and she nodded. "Cover your exit route, and drive the hostages to someplace safe. Got it. I can't believe you let Rory drive!"
The sixteen year old grinned.
"He'll be in the next round of Rangers. But once you're in place, send him home. Autocab. One of the hostages—or I—will drive the other. Got it?"
She nodded, her glum expression fading as he handed her his own rifle, and reached for more. "I'll show you the two places that look like the best lines of retreat. I'll phone you—because if it has gotten wild I'll have all my shields up and tight—when to leave the bus to cover our retreat, or move to another spot."
Now Rory was scowling. "I should at least come back here to help Pauli."
Axel paused. It would keep him from bailing at the first corner and sneaking back to the buses. "That's actually a good idea. Right. Assistant to the Master of Remote Warfare."
"So, Tash, look at the satellite feed. You're going to come around from the north. Into this neighborhood."
"The retirement village?"
"Yes. The ground rises to this spot here, and there's a gate into the fairgrounds half a block further on. Don't show yourself. Turn so you're facing out for a fast getaway and park there. You may want to turn the rear van across the road, so the people fleeing can get around behind it to get on.
"Also, you can shoot from the roof." He put on his confident face. "Don't forget shields. Worst comes to worst you may need to drive one of the vans closer. With shields on the front and top."
"W-we think the h-hostages are in one of these two buildings. Or both." Pauli shot a glance at Axel. "But until you're close enough to sense them . . ."
Axel nodded. "But from either, exiting to the east looks to be the easiest."
He eyed her. "You have a very good slash. If I'm runnin
g rear guard, I may need you to cut the gate and shove it out of the way so the hostages can get out. For God's sake! Have all of your shields up hard!"
Rory bounced, eyes wide. "A second driver . . ."
"No. If it gets hot, Pauli will need you here watching half the screens and warning me about where the soldiers are going. Or all the screens while he hacks whatever seems handy at the time."
A sniff from Pauli. "I own their m-missiles. And I'm r-ready to loop their surveillance c-cams. It's j-just those pesky humans I c-can't hack. And the AGCs, unfortunately. H-hurry back, Rory. I'll g-get you up to speed on m-my new setup."
Axel took his car, and parked it a quarter of the way around the fairgrounds from where Tasha would be waiting.
Two in the afternoon, a brisk wind from the north, but bright sunshine.
Not the best time to stage a raid, but I've got a horrible itch to hurry . . .
He turned the car and parked it. Hopped out. Black wig and the camos set to casual wear. He sauntered up the street and walked up to a door that couldn't be seen from the guarded gates. He switched to suburban pattern, to blend in with the shrubberies as he reversed course . . . snapped around as the door opened.
A pudgy little woman. "You can go through the backyards. They mostly watch the streets."
"Well . . . Right." Axel followed her through her home to the backyard. And around past garbage cans, through a gate beside the far side of her garage, then through the adjacent gate to the neighbor's yard . . . squeeze through loose boards to the next yard . . . "Is the whole neighborhood watching them?"
"You better believe it, Sonny."
Axel looked up, an old man on a second floor balcony, with binoculars.
"About time someone showed up to rescue those people. They've barricaded themselves inside the Arts and Crafts building, and those Stutten are beside themselves, trying to get them out." The old guy frowned, scanning behind Axel. "Where's the rest of your Team?"
