Benton tried to hide his surprise, but he recognized these men. The man on the loader was, “Wasp”, the head of the shooters and bomb throwers arm of the Red Spear. The other man was known as “Bee”, a thug and assassin. Their presence here meant trouble, and there was no sign of the regular warehouse crew.
Benton looked toward Wasp’s hidden hands, and then out to the street to see how close Chobuc-re and the rest of the guards were.
Chobuc hadn’t finished positioning the troops, and the ones that were in place were all looking away from the warehouse, not in. The Sergeant would be back, but a lot could happen before then. Arkum-ra was still out of sight down the street.
He turned his attention back to the two men. “So, what are your intentions, gentlemen?”
Bee and Wasp turned their heads in unison. It was their turn to check out the proximity of Benton’s bodyguards. Wasp’s hands were still hidden.
Bee glanced at Wasp, who nodded.
Grabbing for his courage, Bee said, “Here’s the deal, Benton. We have reason to believe this crate and your pet mock might be attacked. I’m told we don’t want that to happen.” He cast a dirty look toward Wasp, who just smiled back. “We’re here to handle the problem. We didn’t expect you. We don’t need you.”
“Nor I, you,” Benton said.
Bee continued, “So, here’s the deal. You and those bodyguards of yours climb aboard that fancy transport and haul out of here. We’ll see that the mock and his crate of fucking posters get to the spaceport, safe and sound. No trouble from you; no trouble from us.”
“A tempting offer, Mr. Bee, but ... ”
Wasp cut in, “Benton ... ”, and was, himself, interrupted when Arkum-ra stepped through the door.
“The van’s on its way, it’ll be here momentarily. We should have ample time to get to the spaceport.”
Benton bobbed his head, watching the two terrorists. Arkum-ra’s presence complicated things, and Chobuc-re would be in soon, Benton needed to put a stop to this.
Arkum said, “Is something wrong?”
“Everything’s in order,” Benton said, “but these two gentlemen are concerned for the health and safety of you, and your shipment.”
“Really? Why?”
Bee’s exasperation boiled over, “Look, all we want to do is get Benton out of here, get you and this crate full of advertising crap out of here, and then get out of here ourselves. For Christ’s sake!”
It was an unfortunate choice of words, Benton thought. No one spoke to a member of the Mahk-Ra gentry like that, and certainly not regarding his artistic judgment.
“Crap?” Arkum-ra was outraged. “These works of art are priceless. The two Joe-the-Camel posters alone are worth a fortune; mint condition, pre-occupation examples of anthropomorphism, both. The Disney’s, the illustrated Aesop’s, the Bee selling breakfast cereal ... ,” Bee sputtered, “ ... are all worth substantial sums. Taken together, this lot is worth enough to purchase a small asteroid to retire on in the home system, and still leave enough to tow it into a nice stable orbit around one of our outer planets. The fact that you’re unable to appreciate the artistic irony of a pre-contact subject race depicting themselves as animals only proves the point! Crap?”
When Arkum-ra paused for a breath, Wasp spoke up, “Please, sir, forgive my feeble minded assistant. He’s fearful because we believe word of this transaction has leaked out,” Wasp glared at Benton, “and we anticipate unwelcome guests at any moment.”
Whatever Arkum-ra had been about to say choked off, and became, “Benton. Tamar-ra has tracked us.”
Chobuc-re had been attracted by the shouting and came in with his machine pistol drawn. Benton was beginning to lose track of the number of ways this could go wrong, when Chobuc hit the unit alarm in response to Arkum’s last statement.
Before Benton had time to explain the mistake and cancel the alarm, a large van glided up to the warehouse.
Bee shouted, “Too late!” and hurled himself behind the loader.
The back of the van burst open, and the sergeant practically threw Benton behind the metal track of the roll-up doors. He covered Benton with his own body-armored torso. Arkum-ra took up a similar position on the opposite side of the doorway.
A heavily armed mob rushed from the van, firing as they came. They weren’t Talon, they were humans. Humans with guns? What the hell was going on?
Bee rose up from behind the loader with a rifle, and began to fire. He only got off a couple of rounds before his head exploded, and he fell back. He would not be getting up again.
Wasp also had a weapon. He brought the muzzle up and began to calmly and methodically lay down a field of fire. He was firing out the door at, what ... his own fellow terrorists? What was so important about those damned posters? It couldn’t just be the money.
The attacking terrorists were caught in a deadly crossfire. Between Wasp’s methodical firing pattern, Arkum-ra’s uncanny accuracy with his civilian model automatic, and Benton’s bodyguards, it wasn’t even a contest. The bastards had never had a chance beyond surprise, and Benton’s group had just been put on alert by Chobuc-re. It was over as soon as it started.
As the last body fell, Chobuc-re turned and pointed his pistol at Wasp. He said “Drop your weapon. Now.”
It didn’t matter that Wasp had just helped fight off an attack. The fact that he was human and had a gun made his life forfeit.
Wasp whipped the gun up to take aim at his would-be captors. Suicide by bodyguard? Didn’t matter. The sergeant had no trouble at all putting a round through Wasp’s elbow. The gun went flying, Wasp tipped over backwards, and Chobuc-re was on top of him before he hit the floor.
Benton stood looking down at the man as the others rushed in and began to stop the blood flow and improvise a bandage.
Arkum-ra walked up, “Well, that was exciting. I haven’t been in a good fire fight for a long time.”
Benton looked up. “Oh. Arkum,” he checked the time on his communicator, “now that your driver seems to have gotten himself killed do you think you can handle the van by yourself?”
“What?”
“I don’t think your contact aboard the passenger liner would be particularly happy to see me, or any of my bodyguards.”
“Good point. Yes.” He raised his voice, “Sergeant, recruit some help to get this container into the van.”
Chobuc-re looked at Benton, who nodded. The sergeant climbed aboard the loader and trundled away.
Arkum-ra said, “I’ll drop off the cargo, and then I’ll go ho ... Well, no, I don’t think it would be smart to go home. Maybe, I’ll just find a quiet little bar at the spaceport and await your call, shall I?
Benton nodded, and Arkum turned and strode out of the warehouse.
Benton walked out to the transport and watched as Arkum-ra squeezed into the van and drove off. Wasp was led out, handcuffed despite the useless arm, and brought over to him.
Chobuc-re stepped up, “Shall I call this in, sir, have someone else take charge of the scene, and the prisoner? We’ve stopped the bleeding and administered pain blockers, but he should seek medical care if you intend to have him treated.”
“No, Sergeant, not yet. I have reason to want to avoid unnecessary attention for just a bit longer, but I would like to get away from this mess.”
“We shouldn’t leave the area unsecured, sir. There are a lot of weapons lying around.”
“Quite right. I’ll tell you what, Sergeant; let’s take the transport up to the roof of that building at the end of the street. It’ll give you a clear view of the area and I can have an informal chat with our prisoner.”
“Sir.”
In short order, the transport set down amid the pipes, wires, antennas, and other junk that usually accumulates on top of large utilitarian structures. Chobuc-re stood by the open door of the transport while the rest of the guards fanned out to take up various vantage points among the clutter.
Benton leaned out, “Sergeant, why don’t you str
etch your legs for a bit. Maybe you could go over and keep an eye on the massacre scene down there in the street.”
“I should remain with the prisoner, sir.”
“Sergeant,” Benton let a sinister edge creep in, “while it is entirely possible that I’m growing feeble in my advancing years, I believe that even I can manage an essentially one armed man in handcuffs.”
While clearly unhappy with the idea, Chobuc-re couldn’t come up with a convincing counterargument. He strolled away to refine the positioning of his troops.
Benton sat back in his seat, looked at Wasp, and said, “Are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about down there? Who were those assholes with the guns?”
Wasp gave a sad shake of his head, “Those brave patriots were another cell of the Red Spear, whose only fault lay in bad timing.” He hesitated before continuing, “They’d seen your mock buddy hanging around the warehouse inspecting his artwork and planned a short, unpleasant, surprise party for him if he came back. We heard about their plans too late to stop them. We came to warn you about the attack.”
Benton snorted, “Despite the fact you didn’t know I was going to be there?”
“Bee didn’t know you were going to be there.”
“Ah, and of course, you didn’t tell him. You wouldn’t tell your ring finger what your fuck-you finger was up to.”
Wasp clucked his tongue, “Watch your language, Kenny. You know I can still kick your ass, even in my present condition.”
“You know, Arthur, after I’ve killed someone it’s kind of hard for me to take their threat to kick my ass seriously.”
“But I’ve been a pretty active ghost.”
They smiled at each other.
Benton said, “You know, I still regret that.”
“What?”
“The poor bastard whose head you made me blow off out there at Barnard’s Star. In my nightmares he’s got your face.”
“Well, I’ve got his name--fair enough.”
Benton said, “I wish it could have been you in this uniform instead of me. I’m just not made for this.”
Arthur shook his head, “I’d say you were doing pretty well. Besides, it could never have been me. You were the Mahk-Ra hero.”
“But I didn’t do it for them. Barnard’s Star is less than six light years from here. If the Mahk-Ra had fallen there, that whole bloody slaughter would have come here next. I fought that battle for us. I was fighting for Earth.”
“You still are. Having you on the inside is worth more than a thousand bombs. The people out there may never know it, but you are probably the greatest hero in human history.”
“The greatest monster in history, you mean.” There was sudden anguish in Benton’s voice, “I’m not a hero, Arthur, I’m a ... a ... sometimes I don’t know when I’m pretending and when I really am a ... . I don’t have a choice. Being a monster buys me power. But it’s so dirty. It hurts so much. It scares the shit out of me.”
Arthur said, “I’m sorry about that, but no one’s hands are clean, kiddo. It’s a time for dirty hands. The historians will apply soap where it’s needed later.”
“But you don’t know what it’s like to take people down into those cells below Talon HQ and pretend that I enjoy doing the things I have to do to them; torturing people in their own living rooms in front of their kids and smiling while I do it; other things. I’m not even sure it’s for a good cause anymore.” Benton lowered his head and whispered, “I’m afraid all the time. I wake up every morning shivering with fear at what I’m becoming.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes.
Arthur said, “About this monster thing ... I know for sure that you’re not a monster. Foolproof way of telling.”
Benton leaned forward. “Tell me.”
“The fear. You said you were afraid you were becoming a monster. That’s not something monsters worry about, Kenny. As long as that fear is there you’re as human as ... I was going to say as I am, but I’d hope better for you than that. Now, if you mention it again I’m going to ignore you.” Arthur smiled, “I used to be pretty good at that--drove you crazy.”
Benton said, “If I could have gotten you into one of those dark little cells back then ... ,” and the two brothers laughed together for the first time in nearly two decades. They both knew it would be for the last time, it had to be, but it felt good.
After a while Benton said, “Okay. Okay, then tell me what’s up with that container full of posters.”
Arthur smiled, “This is something brand new. It’s never been tried before. It’s the brainchild of an agent I’ve only recently become aware of, though I suspect she’s been active for a decade or more. You met her this morning.”
Benton nodded, “I thought so. I’m sorry, Arthur, but I decked her and had her arrested. She was tapping out the recognition code so hard I was tempted to give her a snare drum.”
“Really?” Arthur said, “She didn’t mention ... Oh, I think I see the confusion. The woman you hit was not the agent, Kenny. She was handpicked to attract your attention, by the agent. Who else was there at the time?”
“Only that disturbing little girl.”
“More disturbing than you know. First of all, not little, well, not young; at least twenty-six, maybe older. Proportional dwarf. Probably should have been receiving hormone treatments about the time the mocks showed up, and didn’t get them.”
“But ...”
“I’ve seen her as both boys and girls ranging from three or four up to about nine or ten. Totally convincing. She’s most often a girl, so that’s what I’m going with, but who knows? Twisty brain inside that little head.”
“But ...”
“I know, it’s hard to get your mind around. Oh, by the way, don’t let her play ‘guess my age’ with you. She’ll crawl into your brain and turn it into a pretzel. Always, and I mean always, remember she’s an adult and any of that shifting age crap is purely for effect. Welcome to my world, she’s your new contact.”
“I don’t think I’m following this.”
“You’ll get used to it. The girl’s a genius, the best tactical and strategic thinker I’ve ever seen, with the possible exception of you at Barnard’s Star, but she seems to think sideways, and upside-down. I think you two will get along.”
Benton decided he would decipher that compliment later, and asked, “So, what is this plan?”
“Long before I became aware of her, Ranny had developed a web of scientists, engineers, theorists; some of the brightest human minds on the planet. She refers to them as her ‘Boffins’.”
“Ah,” Benton said, “World War Two England. Bletchley Park, etc.”
Arthur shrugged, “If you say so. Anyway, she put a simple question to them: instead of using the makeshift arsenal the resistance has at present to fight the enemy, was there anything inherent in Mahk-Ra technology that could be used as a weapon, or as a trigger for a weapon? Today we’re going to test what they came up with.”
“Test?”
“Well, yeah. We needed a Mahk-Ra gravity drive for the thing to work, and we don’t have one of those. The first time we get to use the weapon is also the first chance we have to test it.”
Benton sat back in his seat, “And that’s the brilliant plan? Test a weapon? How exactly is this thing supposed to work?”
“I’m not in the ‘need to know loop’, Kenny, but this is the gist. The Boffins came up with this combination of inks, papers, plastics, and so on; impregnated with whatever magic juju chemists and physicists play with, and then made a bunch of perfectly ordinary counterfeit pre-invasion anthropomorphic artwork.”
“Counterfeit?”
“Well, some of it’s real, but you miss my point. This stuff can get past any detector the Mahk-Ra have, they’re just posters. But, when they’re packed together in a certain configuration, and then subjected to a gravitic field like the one our theorists think the Mahk-Ra use ... well, something interesting should happen.” Arthur sat back and s
miled.
Benton said, “Have you been spending a lot of time in the sun lately, Arthur?”
“I said it was a test. The worst that can happen is the ship will take off normally, and you and your friend will be filthy rich. The best we’re hoping for is that when the crate self-annihilates it will cripple the ship and cause a crash. And in case you missed it, the important word in there was, ‘self-annihilate’. It leaves absolutely no trace of itself. The thing that brings the ship down will be a malfunction of the gravitic field.”
“Okay,” Benton said, “so we’re rooting for interesting. Let’s hope it works.”
Arthur smiled, “Time will tell,” he said.
Benton laughed out loud at the echo of his father in Arthur’s voice. “It always does,” he said in response.
Benton checked the time on his communicator. “I hope Arkum made it, that passenger liner is going to be taking off any minute now.”
Arthur said, “We should have a pretty good view from here.”
As Benton turned to look out the open door, Arthur slammed his cuffed hands into to the back of his brother’s head. The pain to his shattered elbow was excruciating, but the blow served its purpose. Benton fell through the door, sprawling face first onto the roof of the building. Arthur sprinted for the low wall at the roof’s edge.
There was a shout, and the Mahk-Re bodyguards raced to intercept him. He leaped to the top of the wall, seemed about to jump, and then paused looking toward the spaceport.
Benton propped up on his elbow, staring across at his brother. As Arthur turned around to face the approaching Mahk-Re, Benton could see the Ra-Prime passenger liner rising in the distance behind him. Gravity waves began to build around the ship, but instead of resolving into a smooth heat-shimmer, the field seemed to fragment. It twisted, clumped, separated. The roiling gravity waves began to emit visible light; stronger and stronger; shining brightly. Benton could feel the gravitic distortion. Arthur swayed on the wall, thrust his cuffed fists into the air and shouted, “Resistance is al--”
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