Most of Connie’s childhood had been off adventuring, far from parental influence, but she still compulsively made her bed, a habit drilled into her by her mother. And she couldn’t throw away pennies because of her father. She’d carried fifty-eight cents halfway across the galaxy once, which worked out in the end when she found the blueprints for the cosmic decimator station array in a universal vending machine on Betelgeuse 7. She’d never gotten around to thanking him for helping her save seven inhabited worlds. She’d have to remember next time they had lunch.
“Larry isn’t wrong,” said Tia. “On paper, you two have a lot more in common than you and Byron.”
“That’s why it would never work,” said Connie. “I get in enough trouble as it is without having a sinister mastermind as a mother-in-law. It would make for some awkward holidays. Sorry about smashing your plans for world domination, Ms. Peril. Pass the potatoes, please.”
“At least nothing dangerous happened this time. We don’t have to worry about you straining your luck.”
“I wouldn’t say that just yet.”
A shadow moved in the nearby trees. Two more skulked from the woods on the opposite of the cabin. Connie kept them in her peripheral vision. Tia couldn’t see them, but she knew that look on Connie’s face.
“How many?” asked Tia.
“At least three. Probably more.”
Tia had enough experience to act casual. She threw another rock. “Three what?”
“I can’t get a good look, but their tactics are standard special ops. Soldiers of some sort, moving into position before striking. I’d say we have a few minutes before things go down.”
“Do we have a plan?”
“Working on it.”
They walked inside as nonchalantly as possible. Tia resisted the urge to cast a glance around. She wouldn’t have seen them.
Larry stood by the fireplace. The deer head had slid aside to reveal a monitor with a virtual map of the area surrounding the cabin. Red dots closed in.
“We might have a problem,” said Larry.
“What is that?” asked Tia.
“I might have taken some precautions.” He pushed the coffee table aside and lifted the bearskin rug. From there, he removed a secret panel and typed in a code on a hidden keypad. A rack of high-tech tools rose up from the floor.
“And you said you were no good as a mastermind,” said Connie, looking through the weapons.
“I am my mother’s son.”
“Wait a minute,” said Tia. “We don’t know if they’re bad guys. I mean, Siege Perilous is full of bad guys, but those bad guys are on your side. Some of them. How do we know these guys aren’t just here to take you back home?”
“Then why are they sneaking around?” asked Larry.
“They might think we’re bad guys. They could be under the impression this is a rescue mission. Damn, this is confusing.”
Connie took a misshapen weapon from the rack. “Where did you get a Rigellian stun rifle?”
Larry shrugged. “Does it matter? We could never figure out how to turn it on.”
She pushed a series of buttons on the device, and it hummed to life. “This should work.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” said Tia. “How do we know they’re hostile?”
“We don’t,” said Connie. “We’re going to play it safe and assume so. You two stay here. I’ll go take them out. We’ll sort this mess out later.”
“Connie, you can’t go out there,” said Tia.
“It’s just a few commandoes.”
Connie sounded as if she were talking about a spot of inconvenient weather. Under normal circumstances, she probably would’ve been right.
“Nine.” Larry pointed to the advancing blips on the monitor. “Also, looks like a BX12 power-armor operator.”
“Ninja or rhino class?” asked Connie.
“Ninja.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
She attempted to slip out a window, but Tia grabbed Connie by the shirt, pulling her back in.
“Are you serious?” asked Tia. “After Bonita’s warning, after all the stuff that’s happened to you over the last few days, you’re doing this?”
“It’s not that dangerous,” said Connie.
Tia didn’t let go. “I can’t let you go out there.”
“You can’t let me? I don’t recall asking you for permission.”
“Is something wrong?” asked Larry. “Estimating thirty seconds until enemy engagement.”
The blips on the monitor had spread around the cabin, with the big red blip representing the power armor bringing up the rear.
“The only way I’m letting go is if you make me,” said Tia. “And the only way—”
Tia didn’t see it happen, but somehow, she was thrown across the room to land gently on the sofa. It might not have hurt at all aside from a few springs poking her here and there. Cursing, she jumped to her feet, but Connie was already out the window, followed by the sound of gunfire and stun-rifle discharges.
The monitor played out the battle as the many blips shifted and zipped around from a bird’s eye view. It was like a video game but with her friend’s life at stake. She punched the sofa, just to hit something. The soft thump was unsatisfying.
“She’s going to get herself killed.”
Larry pushed another secret button and the couch tipped over as a cylinder extended from the floor. It held a black-and-silver suit of power armor. It stood nine feet tall. Mini-missile racks sat on its shoulders and chain guns were mounted on its gauntlets. The helmet was fashioned in the likeness of a grinning demon with oversized tusks and two horns spiraling from the sides.
“Not because of me, she won’t.”
He put his hand on the suit’s chest, and with a beep, it opened up so he could step inside.
“Why do you have that?” asked Tia.
“Mom gave it to me. It’s custom. She always said I could never defend myself, so she’d have to do it for me.”
Outside, a grenade exploded close enough to rattle the windows.
“Do you even know how to use that thing?” she asked.
“I’ve logged about a dozen simulator hours.”
She helped him into the armor. It shut him inside with a loud hiss as everything locked into place. He took one tentative step forward on its giant metal boots, clomping with the force of a minor earth tremor. He tilted forward, and she jumped back to avoid being crushed if he toppled over.
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” she said. “You’re likely to be a liability to Connie in that thing.”
His normal voice spat out of the monstrous skull. “I have it under control.” He moved his arms, knocking over a lamp with the barrel of his chain gun. “And I’m through relying on other people to protect me.”
On the monitor, the green dot that was Connie wove between the red dots of the enemy. Gunfire filled the air, and Tia waited for Connie’s blip to stop moving. Instead, it ran up to a red dot and did something that caused the red dot to blink off.
But the blinking red blip of the enemy power armor was closing in.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” said Tia.
He turned, nearly knocking her over. He clomped forward on uneasy legs, like a toddler who had only learned the art of walking a few days before. He tried to go around the rocking chair but ended up smashing it to pieces with a swing of his arm.
“I might be out of practice.”
Outside, something exploded. Most of the enemy blips were out of commission, but the big red one was following Connie, who weaved in serpentine fashion as machine gun fire echoed through the forest.
“Screw it.”
Larry moved forward, plowing through the cabin wall without slowing. Tia stood at the hole he’d left, watching as he tromped his way into the woods. He uprooted a few trees unfortunate enough to get in his way.
She’d learned to stay out of the way when things went down. She’d spent years mastering keep
ing her head down while Connie saved the day. Sometimes Tia helped, but mostly she survived on the sidelines.
She was a sidekick now. Officially. And Connie was living on borrowed luck. Tia shouldn’t just wait this one out.
There was a weird screeching sound, like a buzz saw made out of shrieking demons, followed by a bright silent flash. A plume of red flame shot into the sky over the tree line, and clouds of black smoke drifted toward the cabin.
Tia glanced back at the monitor. Whatever was happening out there had blown the sensor grid. It was only a blank, blue screen.
She went to the rack and grabbed an AK-47. Or maybe it was some other brand of assault rifle. She didn’t know. Connie would’ve known, would’ve known how to load it, how to fire effectively. She didn’t like guns, but she knew how to use the damned things. Tia had some time at the firing range. As Connie’s friend, it was common sense, but it’d been a few years.
She put it aside because common sense also said she’d be a liability. She picked out an automatic pistol. A Glock or a Smith & Wesson or something. Damn it, she needed to learn more about guns.
Outside, the sharp zap of lasers and weird science-fiction weapons pierced the air. She wouldn’t be much good against anything going out there. She’d only shoot herself. Or worse, she’d shoot Connie. There was a perfect irony to that, and if luck was out to get Connie, Tia walking around with a gun was probably tempting fate.
Power armor smashed through the wall. It wasn’t Larry’s but the BX12 Ninja. It was grossly misnamed, large and blocky, like a sumo wrestler with snapping pincer claws and an improbable number of guns mounted on its back, shoulders, and chest.
Larry charged in and unleashed a haymaker that sent the Ninja flying through the chimney and back outside. He tromped after his opponent, and the cabin rattled with the clang of clashing steel. The roof creaked, and Tia picked her way through the debris toward the door, just in case the roof fell in.
Then the roof fell in.
She wasn’t crushed, but she couldn’t move. Bits of light streamed through the rubble. She could only wait for rescue in the dark, dusty hole. She’d never felt more useless. It was only a few minutes before Connie threw aside a piece of roof.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better,” replied Tia, more annoyed than anything. “How’s Larry?”
“Still fighting.”
A series of small explosions raised dust, and Tia sneezed.
Connie started clearing the rubble.
“Don’t worry about me,” said Tia. “You have to help Larry.”
“Larry can hold out for a minute or two without me,” said Connie.
With some effort and some makeshift levers, Tia was extracted from the wreckage. Connie pulled her free.
“Anything broken?” asked Connie.
“Don’t think so.”
“You might have internal injuries. We’ll have to get you looked at.”
A blast sent nearby trees flying as the Ninja battlesuit came crashing out of the forest, shattering a crumbling picnic table. The power suit’s dented armor sparked at the joints. The operator struggled to stand, flailing ineffectively.
Larry stepped from the woods. His suit had its share of dings but it was mobile. The left leg was sticking, and he limped forward.
He said, “Oh, jeez, Tia. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think—”
“It’s fine,” said Tia. “I’m fine. Is that the last of them?”
He swept the area with the sophisticated sensor array built into his power armor. “I think so.”
“Are we still certain these were bad guys we’re dealing with?” asked Tia.
The Ninja power armor managed to rise to his feet. He flew forward via rocketpack toward Connie.
Tia pushed Connie out of the way.
Larry pushed Tia out of the way.
The Ninja tackled Larry, roaring across the lake. They skipped like stones across the water as they struggled. Larry fired his own jump jets and the pair flew high into the sky. They spiraled in midair combat for a few seconds.
And then they exploded.
“Oh shit,” whispered Tia. “Oh shit.”
The flaming debris of the power armors arced through the blue sky like a terrible firework. Connie and Tia ran toward the lake, like there was anything they could do. “Look out!” shouted Tia, although she was already pushing Connie to the ground, more from reflex than anything. Larry’s demon helmet rocketed like a cannonball and bounced off the ground at their feet, barely missing their heads, embedding itself in a tree trunk.
Larry and the Ninja hit the water with a splash.
“Oh shit,” said Tia. She was aware she was repeating herself, but it was the only thing that came to mind.
Connie jumped in the lake. She swam to the center and dove beneath the depths. Tia could only watch from the shore.
A pair of soldiers came up behind her. They pointed their weapons at her, and she raised her hands. This was the part where the bad guys took her hostage. Or maybe Connie would rescue her before that happened.
The soldiers lowered their guns, nodded to one another, and retreated into the forest.
23
Connie spent half an hour dredging the lake for any signs of Larry. She only found pieces of his battlesuit.
Agent Ellington was called, and she brought in divers to carry on the search. Connie put on a wetsuit herself and joined them.
The sun had set hours earlier. Tia and Ellington stood on the shore, watching the boat spotlights dance across the water.
“We don’t have a lot on this Larry Peril,” said Ellington. “Last we’d heard, he’d given up on being an evil mastermind.”
“He had,” replied Tia. “And he wasn’t evil.”
“Then what the hell happened here?”
“He was trying to reform Siege Perilous. Guess not everyone liked the idea.”
An agent approached. “Our divers haven’t found anything yet, ma’am. The explosion might have disintegrated the bodies beyond recovery.”
“Pack it up,” said Ellington.
“You aren’t going to keep looking?” asked Tia.
“What for? It’s not important enough to waste more resources on.”
“He was our friend.”
Ellington nodded to the agent, who walked away.
“My condolences, but this is done. I’m not Verity’s personal government valet. Don’t see a reason to spend taxpayer money recovering a finger or two. If Connie wants to keep looking, she can hold on to the wetsuit and diving gear. I’ll send along a bill.”
Ellington and her agents left. Tia sat on the shore, staring across the lonely lake lit by the stars and moon, waiting for Connie. It was around nine thirty that she emerged from the water. Exhausted, she dragged herself up the shore and sat beside Tia.
“Where’s your air tank?” asked Tia.
“Ran empty hours ago,” said Connie. “I ditched it. It was only slowing me down.”
“Find anything?” It was a dumb question, but Tia asked it anyway.
“Just pieces of armor.”
“That’s good, right?” asked Tia. “Larry was a mastermind, right? No body means he might not be dead. Right? Like his mom?”
Connie rested her arms across her knees, her head against her arms. “Larry wasn’t much of a mastermind.”
“But he could’ve faked his death.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Maybe he was in over his head and thought this was the best way to get out from under it.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he was in over his head and paid the price for it.”
Tia put her arm around Connie. “It’s not your fault.”
“I was right here, and I didn’t save him.”
“You can’t save everyone.”
“I was right here.”
“Connie—”
“Screw this. Let’s go home.”
“What about Larry?”
“What about him?
He’s either dead or he’s not. Either way, it’s not our problem anymore.”
“But Siege Perilous—”
“Don’t give a damn.”
Connie removed her flippers and stood. Her body language was different. For the first time ever, Constance Verity looked defeated. Not simply tired or discouraged. Not disinterested in the good fight. Not annoyed by it. But beaten by it. As if the weight of every previous adventure was too much to bear.
“Let somebody else save the world. I just want some sleep.” She trudged away.
Tia cast one glance at the lake before turning away and following.
24
The last time Connie remembered crying was when Frankenstein’s creature had died in her arms. She’d been twenty-three.
She’d cried since from physical pain, but when it came to emotional turmoil, she made it a practice to shove that crap aside. She didn’t have time for it.
She didn’t cry as she shared the news with Byron, but her eyes watered a little. She wiped them. “He’s dead. I screwed up, and now Larry’s dead.”
Byron hugged her. “I’m sorry, but I’m sure you did everything you could.”
“No, I could’ve done more. I could’ve done something. The right thing. Whatever that was.” She moved to the couch and sat, grabbing a throw pillow and smacking it with her fist. “Why don’t I know what that is? I always know the right thing.”
He sat beside her. “Connie, nobody expects you to be perfect.”
“That’s just it. I don’t need to be perfect, Byron. But I need to be good enough, and I wasn’t.”
“You can’t tell me you’ve saved everyone every time,” he said.
“No, but I always felt like I did everything I could when I didn’t. This time feels different.”
“You knew Larry a long time, didn’t you?” asked Byron.
She nodded. “We were close-ish once.”
“It’s only natural that it’d hit you harder than usual, then.”
“That’s just it. I’ve lost people before. People I was much closer to, that meant more to me. It might sound terrible to say, but . . .” She sighed. “Never mind.”
He pulled her toward him and took her in his arms. “It’s okay.”
Constance Verity Saves the World Page 20
