DIRE : BORN

by Andrew Seiple

  “NO REAL CHOICE IN THE MATTER.” I gestured at the two feet of spear sticking out of the road.

  Siegebreaker snorted, an electronic 'blat' that took me a second to decipher. “You mind if I look him over?”

  “PLEASE DO. SHE HAD TO CHOKE HIM OUT. HE'S STILL BREATHING, THOUGH.”

  I forced myself not to flinch as he moved forward, visor trained on me. Those biceps were bigger than my torso. He could probably rip my armor apart with only his hands, and I didn't have a single thing that could even inconvenience him. But he stopped at Ballista, knelt, and his hands were gentle as he poked, and observed the man. Finally he nodded. “Huh. Not bad.”

  Kinetica was taking the opportunity to study me. “You know, the third-person thing sounds really weird.”

  “IT IS DIRE'S METHOD OF SPEECH.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “THOSE WHO DISLIKE ITS DISSONANCE CAN DEAL.” I wasn't about to admit to her that I couldn't help it. Show no weakness, not to these predators.

  She shrugged, but moved on to a different topic. “Why did Ballista attack you?”

  “HE SEEMED TO THINK THAT DIRE KILLED SCRAPPER.”

  “Shoot.” She seemed to reign herself in. “That would do it. Scrapper was his mentor, when he started out. He's been going nuts over the search for him, these last few weeks.”

  “FRUITLESS, DIRE FEARS.” I sighed. “THE BLACK BLOODS CAUSED SCRAPPER'S DEATH WHEN WE ATTEMPTED TO ESCAPE THEIR CUSTODY TOGETHER. DIRE DID SALVAGE HIS ARMOR, AND WEARS IT NOW FOR THE NEED IS GREAT.”

  Siegebreaker rose, with Ballista in his arms. “Hey K, put me back up there, huh? It's not bad, but chokeouts can cause complications, I wanna make sure he gets proper treatment until we can drop him off.” She nodded, and raised a hand in a lifting motion. I watched as Siegebreaker rose through the air, back into the hatch.

  I nodded, and bent to pick up the crates. As I did so, a speaker snapped to life on the outside of the craft. A man's voice, calm and pleasant, spoke from it. “Doctor, would you mind a few more questions?”

  I recognized the voice. Doc Quantum.

  “SHE HAS LITTLE TIME FOR SUCH. HER PEOPLE ARE IN DANGER.”

  “You're also standing in front of the destroyed residence of a known drug dealer, with crates full of explosive chemicals, and what appears to be a kilo of highly illegal psionically-enhanced cocaine hidden in your armor. Even discounting the bodies littering the residence, our scans are turning up a lot of disturbing things.”

  “What?” shouted Kinetica. “That shit again? That goddamn psychic drug stuff? I thought we cut off the last source of that back in July! Dammit, dammit—”

  “Language, dear.” Quantum's voice was chiding, now.

  “Right, right, sorry. Alright. So, are we taking her in after all?”

  “YOU SPEAK AS IF IT'S A FOREGONE CONCLUSION.”

  A new voice came down from the aircraft's speakers. “I'm afraid that it is, sorry.” Ah. This would be the one who'd spotted my drone. The unknown quantity.

  “AND YOU ARE?” I asked.

  “Hm. I suppose our PR department has much to answer for. I'm Schrodinger, how do you do? Oh, by the way, I control fate.”

  “A BOLD CLAIM.”

  “One I can prove. Allow me to demonstrate. Point at somewhere in the street, not too close to you.”

  I chose a random spot. “NOW WHAT?”

  “Now it's lampshade time. Wait for it... ah, there.”

  A 'POP' from the direction of the house, as it groaned and fell in. A spray of fire as a facing window gave, and with a crash, a lamp was blown into the air... Falling to rest at the exact place I was pointing.

  I pulled my arm back. Okay, that was impressive.

  “So, with respect, I think we'd like to ask you a few questions.”

  “UPON CONSIDERATION, DIRE CAN SPARE YOU A FEW MINUTES. BUT THERE ARE PEOPLE'S LIVES ON THE LINE, HERE.”

  Kinetica nodded. “That's actually about our situation, too.”

  “ALL RIGHT. DIRE MIGHT HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS OF HER OWN.”

  “We've heard reports of a power armored warlord in the northeast,” Quantum said. “Would you be her?”

  “WITHOUT KNOWING THE RUMORS, SHE CAN'T REALLY CONFIRM THEM,” I said. “SHE IS TRYING TO ORGANIZE A DEFENSE OF HER CURRENT AREA AGAINST THE GANG WHO CALL THEMSELVES THE BLACK BLOODS.”

  “Hm. No plans to fight anyone else? Or collect tribute, or forcibly recruit anyone?”

  “SHE DOESN'T PLAN TO FIGHT ANYONE ELSE UNLESS THEY START IT.” I waved at the spear stuck in the ground. “CASE IN POINT. AS TO TRIBUTE OR CONSCRIPTION, NEITHER SEEM LIKE A GOOD WAY TO RESTORE ORDER TO THE AREA.”

  “All right. What are you doing here?”

  “INITIALLY, ATTEMPTING TO TRADE THE KILO OF SUBSTANCE YOU DETECTED FOR AMMUNITION. BUT—” I indicated the house.

  “—THE DEALER PRESENT WAS DEAD WHEN DIRE ARRIVED. SO SHE SETTLED FOR SCAVENGING THE MATERIALS HERE.”

  “I see. We're going to have to confiscate the poisoned cocaine, you understand. The stuff causes amazing amounts of trouble, we've had three villains get origins from it within the last half a year or so. Not to mention the fatalities...”

  I unsealed the compartment and tossed it over, fanny pack and all. “FINE. DIRE HAS WHAT SHE CAME FOR IN ANY CASE. TRADE WITH A DEALER OR TRADE WITH YOU, IT'S ALL THE SAME.”

  Doc Quantum caught the pack and nodded. “You might want to be careful about that. Given your aesthetics, people are already going to be thinking you're a villain. I really can't fault Ballista for jumping to conclusions.”

  What? He was lecturing me? I was sitting here, wasting time while my people were working themselves sick to prepare for a life-or-death struggle, and he was lecturing me? The arrogance, the sheer gall of the man!

  “DIRE CARES LITTLE FOR SUCH THINGS. SHE IS DIRE, AND LABELS ARE THE FORTE OF THE SIMPLEMINDED. DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO RATTLE ON ABOUT?”

  Kinetica chuckled. “Aw, that touched a nerve.”

  “YOUR CONDESCENSION IS NOTED AND TREATED WITH THE RESPECT IT DESERVES. THAT IS TO SAY, NONE.”

  Her grin turned into a sour look. But Quantum's voice cut back in before she could respond. “Several days back, there were several explosions in a building in the northeast, in the Brownstones district, known formally as the Leroy Russ housing project. They resulted in the collapse of that building. Do you know anything about that event?”

  Hm. Truth or die time. Did I trust them enough to give them the full story? No. Did I believe that they could tell if I was lying? I couldn't rule it out, thus I had to treat it as if they could. On the other hand, I believed that I'd answered their previous questions to their satisfaction. They probably wouldn't attempt to fight or stop me at this juncture. My leg twinged again, and I shuddered. It was a good thing, that this was going peacefully.

  “YES. THAT BUILDING CONTAINED DIRE'S SECRET LAIR.”

  That got their attention. Kinetica straightened up, and punched the air. “Yes! Finally, a clue!”

  “Maybe.” Quantum was more reserved. “You were attacked, yes?”

  “SOMEONE ATTEMPTED A BREACH. THEY WERE STUBBORN ENOUGH TO START CARVING THROUGH SOME FRANKLY LUDICROUS LAYERS OF DEFENSES. DIRE DEPARTED MIDWAY THROUGH.”

  “Hm. You realize that you're going to be held liable for this once we sort the city out?”

  I raised a hand, let it fall. “AND HER ATTACKERS WILL NOT?”

  “That's why it'll be a matter for the courts, most likely. I can recommend a good lawyer, property damage is his specialty. Do you know why WEB was attacking you?”

  “NO IDEA.”

  “Interesting. Thank you for your time—”

  “WAIT.” Dammit, no, now I deserved some questions. “TELL HER OF WEB.”

  “That would take a long time. It's complicated.”

  Kinetica shook her head. “It's actually really simple if you give her the short version. A bunch of techno-terrorists with a yen to rule the world, and the resources to afford to hire lots of s
tupid people and give them lots of advanced weapons and armor they can barely use. They're as- bad folks.”

  “And they've got power,” Quantum said. “Alone in this city, their power armored troops are operating just fine regardless of their location. That's suspicious.”

  “FUNNY YOU SHOULD MENTION THAT. FOUR OF THEM AMBUSHED HER HERE. NOT POWER ARMORED, MIND YOU.”

  I indicated their staging point. “THE FIGHT WAS WHAT DREW BALLISTA, BUT THEY ESCAPED IN THE CONFUSION ONCE HE ATTACKED.”

  I'd lost a chance to find answers. Damn it Ballista! He couldn't have listened...

  “Well. That is interesting. Do you know why they might be after you?” Quantum asked.

  I shook my head. “ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA. PERHAPS THEY DESIRE HER TECHNOLOGICAL SKILL?”

  “It's possible, I suppose. But given the timing, I doubt it. Watch yourself in the future, Doctor, they're nothing if they're not persistent. Well, if that's all, I think we're done here. Good luck and behave yourself.”

  Kinetica floated back up into the hatch, and it closed. I weighed my options, swallowed my pride, and held out a hand. “WAIT.”

  “I'm sorry, but we're all very busy here, I don't—”

  “WILL YOU HELP AGAINST THE BLACK BLOODS?” I tried to make my tone polite. It sounded no different.

  A sigh crackled over the speaker. “I wish we could. But the entire nation's in trouble, not just the city or the district you're in. The sooner we can find the cause, the sooner we can fix it. The answers you gave us here helped with that. And if WEB troopers were here, we need to go track them now, to have a shot at fixing this. Good luck, Doctor, and keep hope.”

  “LOOK! EVEN A DAY OR TWO CAN HELP SAVE THE LIVES WITHIN THE CAMP—”

  They departed, leaving me hovering in the street.

  “IT'S YOUR CITY TOO! THEY'RE YOUR PEOPLE TOO!” I shouted at their departing craft. But they were gone, and I was left by myself, among the ash drifting down as the fire burned itself out.

  I picked up the crates with much difficulty, and flew back to the camp. Some times you just have to cut your losses and move on.

  At least I'd gotten some answers, even if they'd only led to more questions

  I noticed the difference in the camp as I approached. Several new tents in a ring, around the shacks and the original tents. More barrels and more fires, burning hot enough to send up plumes of gray smoke. More people, too. By the look of it, at least fifty more had shown up in the couple of hours I'd been away. Children shrieked, pointed, and scrambled away as I came in. After waiting for the zone to clear, I landed in front of the sickbay. I put my burdens down next to the shack, and beckoned one of the new people over. “YOU THERE, DO YOU KNOW ANY OF THE PEOPLE IN CHARGE AROUND HERE?”

  “Um. There's the wheelchair guy,” the unassuming young man replied, tugging on the hood of his hoodie.

  “GO TELL HIM TO ASK MINNA OR MARTIN OR JOAN TO TAKE CHARGE OF THIS STUFF, THEN COME BACK AND WATCH IT UNTIL SOMEONE COMES TO PICK IT UP.”

  He headed off. I headed into the sickbay, stooping a bit to do so. The power armor added half a foot to my height, and the doorway was already fairly low after all. I limped and favored my right leg as much as possible, but I couldn't help jarring the left one with each step, sending pain straight up it. I bit my lip to prevent screaming. This was going to suck.

  Khalid hurried up, putting his hands on his hips after he reached up and steadied the swaying lantern. The weight of my advance on the floor had set it rocking. “What are you doing, bringing that thing in here? You are too heavy.”

  I triggered the manual release, and he stepped back as it unfolded. After the hissing stopped I stared at him, my sweat—clumped bangs across my left eye. I must have looked like hell, because he put his hand to his mouth.

  “She did it because this is probably going to hurt, a lot, and she'll need your help to get out of it without making the damage worse.”

  “What in god's name happened?”

  “A hero decided to pick a fight.”

  He shook his head, offered me his arms. I took them, and tried to lever out without using my legs. It didn't happen. I grunted in agony as I jolted my foot, flashes of red filled my vision because the pain was so bad. Finally with a yank I was out, but despite myself I couldn't help stumbling and putting weight on my left leg. I felt it bend below the knee, just before a howling agony swept me into merciful unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 13: War's Bloody Stigmata

  “If there's one good thing to this mess, it's the fact it got people asking how the hell did they smuggle THAT into the city, and keep it hidden for so long?”

  --Phillip Guzman, survivor of the Y2K blackout, and former confidant of Doctor Dire

  I came back to myself, with my brain feeling like ten miles of bad road. My eyelids fluttered, and I stared at a cloth ceiling. I lay still and concentrated on breathing, until I heard a sound I couldn't identify. A slurping noise? My legs were mismatched in their comfort. The right one felt fine as ever, and I wiggled the toes on my right foot without trouble. My left leg was numb to the hip, however, and felt oddly warm. There was pain, but it was muted. What was going on?

  I craned my head up a bit, and Khalid came into view. I was on one of the sickbay cots, and he was crouched over my leg. The pants had been cut away to the knee, and he was rubbing a green gel into the flesh. I tried to wiggle the toes on my left foot, and the pain put me out again. Just before I went, I heard him say “No! Hold still, don't move yet—”

  When I awoke again the light had shifted, and the shadows were longer on the wall. Khalid was not in sight. I craned my neck, found my lower body covered with a sheet. I lifted it, looked down at my leg. A brace had been set there, with two slim metal rods and bandages binding between them. Green goo crusted the bandages.

  I felt no pain at all, and that worried me. Gritting my teeth, I wiggled my left foot's toes. They wiggled with neither problem nor pain. I tried lifting my leg. It lifted. I tried clambering out of bed, and strings tied to my brace prevented me from going anywhere. Bells attached to them jangled.

  Noise came from outside, and after half a minute, Khalid came in. He caught me sitting up and untying the strings from my brace. “Lie down and stop fussing,” he commanded.

  “Too much to do.”

  He grabbed my shoulder. “The bone is still weak. Lie down and let it work.”

  “The bone was broken. Dire remembers that much. How-”

  He shook his head. “Not broken. Looked worse than it was. Nearly broken, though. You damaged the tendon. Rest, and let it heal.”

  I gnawed my lip. It had certainly looked broken to me. But it looked straight now, and a few flexes demonstrated a good range of movement. There were only a few twinges of pain. It was nothing like the screaming agony I'd had earlier.

  “You did something,” I mused. “What?”

  Khalid sighed. “It does not matter. Listen, your people will need you soon. You must rest.”

  “The bullet press, has it been taken? Is it being used properly?”

  “I will send someone to ask. For the love of god, woman, lie down. Do not make me sedate you.”

  “You wouldn't.”

  “You made me the doctor in charge of medicine here, no? So listen to me.”

  Couldn't argue with that. But still... “Compromise?” I suggested.

  He took off his spectacles, rubbed them against his shirt. “What?”

  “Do you have anyone else to take care of yet?”

  “Through the grace of the angels, somehow, no. Despite people's best efforts to injure themselves and give themselves hypothermia by camping on a New England beach in January, we are as yet unafflicted by the dead and dying. I am sure that people will do their level best to change this fact as time goes on.”

  “So no, then.”

  “So no,” he confirmed.

  “Perfect!” I smiled. “You're now Dire's runner until more pressing matters draw you back. Please go visit the followin
g people, and ask them to stop by when they get a second...”

  A minute later he was exiting the sickbay, grumbling under his breath in a language I didn't know. I chuckled and lay back, glancing about. He'd left a bottle of water near my head, along with a sandwich of some sort. I drank the one and ate the other, and found my mood much improved by the time Khalid returned with Martin.

  “Shiiiit,” Martin gaped at me. I leaned back, grinned, and saluted him with the water bottle.

  “Your acquaintance was dead when Dire got there.”

  “Someone got Willis? Fuck, wish I could say I was surprised. Now that I think of it, sumbitch musta shown his guns to like dozens of people. Things go to shit, I'm not the only one who'd think 'hey, that jackass has bullets and guns to spare'.” He pulled up a chair, shook his head. “Sorry, shoulda expected that I guess.”

  “Quite alright,” I affirmed. “Did you see the bullet press?”

  “Yeah. Abes knew what that was. We got some of the layabouts workin' that shit now. Wish we had more brass, but this'll be good for maybe a thousand or so nine mil, and that kind of bullet fits most our guns. Guzman and Sparky got guns to everyone who can shoot now. Maybe thirty people.”

  “Thirty.” I bit my lip. Not much, not with a vicious, brutal gang after us. “Well, it's a start.”

  “Yeah. So, uh, what happened?”

  “Ballista happened. Seemed to think that Dire killed his old mentor, Scrapper.”

  “Well. You kinda did.”

  Behind Martin, I saw Khalid straighten up, and take a short breath. His eyes flicked to me, and I closed my own.

  “True, but Ballista didn't know it was self-defense. Which leads Dire to wonder who told him about it, and left out pertinent details.”

  “Militia, probably,” Martin shrugged. “Fuckers practically worship heroes. Slip them intel and help, supplies and shit whenever they can. Wannabes and asskissers, all of 'em.”

  I studied his face, spotted no deception that I could tell. Didn't mean he wasn’t a good liar, though. “It doesn't make sense for the Militia to point Ballista at her, to weaken us in the face of the Black Bloods. They should be strengthening us instead, that's the logical move.”