“They’re the company that engineered the ichthyosaurs and megalodons for the aquarium,” I said, remembering an article I’d read in the Atlanta Business Journal while I was recuperating from my injuries back in April.
“Woof,” said Poly respectfully.
The big prehistoric dog nodded at her. Spike looked at her sideways, keeping at least one of his three eyes on Bavarian’s new pet at all times.
“He seems well trained, anyway,” Poly noted.
“The company did that before I could get him,” said Bavarian. “They said it wouldn’t be safe otherwise.”
“I can believe that,” said Emma Ann.
“Your new companion explains why you don’t have bodyguards around, Terrhi,” said Poly.
“Sort of,” said the Dauushan girl. “Mom and Dad were kinda busy when we got to the capitol building and security there wasn’t happy about letting us in with an epicyon, so we didn’t stay.”
“Oh,” I said, sensing Bavarian’s influence at work.
“Terrhi’s parents expected us to be with you,” said Bavarian, “and we figured you’d be at the park, so here we are.”
That made sense, from a child’s perspective. I’m glad we were able to link back up with the girls. I’d need to give Tomáso a heads up on their whereabouts as soon as the photo op was over.
“What did you name your new pet?” I asked the human girl, not knowing what to expect.
“Looking at him, I think I know,” said Poly.
She let the beast smell the back of her hand then rubbed his mottled coat.
“His name is Spot,” said Bavarian.
Spot and Spike, I thought. How perfect.
“There you are,” said Pomy as she rushed up to join us. “I told you to wait for me while I paid for the autocab.”
“Sorry, Aunt Pomy,” said Terrhi.
“He started tugging and I had to follow him,” said Bavarian, indicating Spot.
I remembered what she’d said about her new pet being well-trained and smelled another one of Bavarian’s machinations. Spike rubbed his head against Pomy’s hip in sympathy and collected a few scritches.
“Woof,” said Spot.
My thoughts exactly.
We all turned back to watch the last delegation enter the park and lumber to the area in front of the stage. The four members of the Tōdon contingent positioned themselves behind the Dauushans at ground level. A delegate-wrangler with a bullhorn did her best to move all the dignitaries into good positions for publicity photographs.
One of the Musans rolled his or her ball-on-a-stick conveyance out onto the carapace of the Tōdon closest to the stage. There was a joker in every crowd. The wrangler convinced the Musan to return to position, then congruency-powered flash bulbs began to strobe.
I closed my eyes to prevent the bright lights from blinding me. When I opened them, hundreds of shock troops in black Macerator armor were pouring out of every manhole in the vicinity.
Chapter 43
“…the good thing about chaos is you don’t get time to think much.”
— Nomadic Wonderings Blog
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Poly, only half in jest.
“Pomy, Emma Ann, please get Terrhi and Bavarian to cover,” I said.
The armored shock troops were massing around the stage, confronting small contingents of city of Atlanta police. The space on the other side of the temporary metal barriers was a milling tangle of black and blue, while more Macerators and green-armored Homeplanet Security forces were moving toward us at high speed from the north. I estimated those two forces would collide close by, leaving us caught between hammer and anvil.
“Where should we go?” asked Pomy.
“We’re cut off,” said Emma Ann.
“Make for the trees,” said Poly.
Three tall oaks stood near our current position. Their crowns were vividly green with new spring leaves. It only took us a few seconds to reach them, but I quickly realized the oaks wouldn’t provide protection.
Bavarian pointed eight feet up the trunk of the nearest tree, where the branches began to split and, well, branch.
“Spike could climb up there,” she said, “and so could I, but I don’t think Terrhi or Spot could make it.”
The big cat leapt up into the lowest branches as if his body was made out of springs, just to prove Bavarian’s point. Spike hid his striped form in the shadows of the leaves.
I looked back at the metal barricades—they might work as ladders for differently shaped species, but there was no way we’d get Terrhi’s hexapod Shetland pony-sized form up one of the trees, even with a makeshift ladder.
Dozens of Macerators were running past the oaks, charging toward the stage, and larger numbers of Homeplanet Security troops were catching up to them. So far, none of the Macerators had attacked us, but it was only a matter of time until we were noticed.
“You’re right,” I said, scanning frantically for a way to escape.
“Look out, Uncle Jack!” shouted Terrhi.
I turned and saw a couple of figures in black Macerator armor trotting toward us. They were stragglers from the main group and one of them must have spotted us—or more likely, spotted Terrhi. I suspected they had orders to look for her. Pomy and Emma Ann positioned themselves in front of the girls, with Spot crouched behind Bavarian. Poly and I stood side-by-side and drew our mini-sweeteners. They wouldn’t be much good against anyone in armor, but they were all we had for weapons.
Our attackers weren’t so limited. They carried dual-barreled over-under slug-thrower and sweetener rifles and came in under the trees with us, their weapons pointed our way. With our Orishen pupa-silk shirts, Poly and I might be able to survive a slug to the torso or shrug off a shot from a sweetener’s molasses chill field, but none of the rest of our party could.
“Hands up,” grunted the lead Macerator.
“Yeah,” said the second one, sounding like he would have been challenged by two syllable words.
I dropped my mini-sweetener and raised my hands. So did Poly and Emma Ann. Pomy, however, remained frozen in place for a couple of heartbeats. The two Macerator operators stared at Poly’s sister—or at least their heads faced in her direction. It was hard to tell because of their opaque visors.
Pomy began to whimper and wring her hands, imploring the Macerators not to hurt her. Emma Ann played along and did the same. The young women had a good act. Once Pomy was sure she had their attention, she fell to her knees, feigning terror. Emma Ann, with all her Remote Hands training, mimicked Pomy’s movements. They both bowed low until their heads touched the grass. It seemed like they were performing an obeisance to Allah or doing a yoga pose named after some contorted animal.
With Pomy and Emma Ann’s screening bodies out of the way, Spot made a flying leap over Bavarian and Terrhi, striking the lead Macerator with significant force, the product of his two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of mass and all the acceleration his muscular legs could impart. I remembered that Macerator armor had a stability problem, and this unit was no exception.
The lead Macerator fell on his back with Spot’s full weight on top of him. The weapon he’d been holding flew into the air. The second man couldn’t react fast enough before a similar fate befell him. Spike jumped down from his concealed perch in the tree, turning the second armored attacker into an overturned turtle as well.
Poly caught the first attacker’s weapon before it hit the ground. She pointed it at the second man, who was still holding his double-barreled rifle. It was awkwardly wedged between his chest plates and a hundred and fifty pounds of unhappy trisabertooth. I extricated the weapon from his grasp and removed the man’s helmet. He was a real loser, probably plucked from a prison somewhere. His face was covered in Chinese character tattoos and I didn’t have the heart to tell him what the tattoo artist had pulled on him.
Pomy came over with our mini-sweeteners and zapped the man, freezing him in place for at least an hour. I shoved him on
his side and Emma Ann removed his power pack cylinders, turning his armor into an effective prison. We repeated the process with the other attacker. It seemed that The General hadn’t improved his hiring practices in the past fortnight. The forces of Good will always triumph over the forces of Evil so long as Evil insists on only paying its minions minimum wage.
“Everybody okay?” asked Poly.
“Yes,” said Bavarian, a bit more subdued than usual.
“That was fun!” exclaimed Terrhi. She was excited enough for both of them.
“Maybe for some definitions of the word,” I said.
“Don’t be a stick in the mud, Uncle Jack,” said Terrhi.
“He has to be a stick in the mud,” said Pomy. “So does Poly, so does Emma Ann, so do I. We’re adults. We protect kids.”
Bavarian pulled a shiny metal tube that looked like a toy fife from her pants pocket.
“This kid can protect herself,” she said.
She pushed a small button on the tube and a beam of red light sliced off a branch above us, sending a dozen leaves to the ground. I realized her toy fife must be a variable beam congruency-powered laser and felt both more and less worried for Bavarian’s safety.
“Jack and I still have to get you kids out of here,” said Poly.
“But we want to help!” said Terrhi.
“The best thing you two can do to help is get to someplace safe so we don’t have to worry about you,” I said. “Once that’s accomplished, Poly and I can pitch in to help Martin’s people save the G70 dignitaries.”
“Jack,” said Pomy, tugging on my sleeve. “We may be in for more trouble.”
Emma Ann had seen something, too. She was pointing at a white van speeding our way from the north. Poly and I put our captured rifles to our shoulders and stood tensely at the ready, awaiting the new threat, while Pomy, the girls, and their pets hid behind tree trunks. I knew it wasn’t my white van, which meant the unknown vehicle could be trouble. When it got close enough for me to read the letters printed in reverse on its hood, I put my hand on Poly’s forearm.
“We can stand down,” I said. “I think it’s friends of ours.”
Poly smiled when she recognized the van. She slung her rifle out of the way over her shoulder. Bavarian put away her laser.
“What’s a Teleport Inn catering van doing at Centennial Olympic Park?” asked Bavarian.
“They’re probably setting up a buffet for the G70 attendees and their guests,” I guessed. “I saw the tables near the World of Coke.”
“Kijanna!” shouted Poly when the van reached our deciduous refuge. “Pierre! And François!”
The young human woman at the wheel hopped out and gave Poly a quick hug. She was wearing an elegantly cut little black dress that I assumed was her working uniform as a greeter.
“Good to see you, Mademoiselle Poly—and Monsieur Jack,” said Pierre Auguste Escoffier, the tuxedo-wearing Pyr and maître d’hôtel of the Teleport Inn where Poly had once worked translating menus. He’d descended from the passenger seat and flowed over to us on his mobility cilia.
“It is a pleasure to be of service to you and your associates,” said François, the Inn’s top waiter. He was always a consummate service professional. François had come from the back of the van and left its double doors open.
“Thanks for your help,” said Poly. “This is Emma Ann, a friend and business associate of Jack’s.
Emma Ann curtsied, putting a finger to her chin at the end.
“Enchanté, dear lady,” said Pierre, bowing in return.
Poly continued. “You remember my sister, Pomy, and Terrhi the royal princess of Dauush?”
“But of course,” said Pierre, “and her clever cat, Spike, as well.”
Spike acknowledged the complement with a bob of his massive head.
“This is Terrhi’s friend, Bavarian and her pet, Spot,” continued Poly.
“Mademoiselle and nice doggy,” said Pierre, diffidently.
Spot had moved closer to check out the little alien. His broad shoulders were higher above the ground than the top of the Pyr’s pointy head.
“I’m glad we brought enough ubercow steaks to feed an army,” muttered François softly.
“What was that?” asked the Pyr.
“Nothing,” said François.
“How did you know we needed you?” asked Poly.
Kijanna looked puzzled.
“Jack sent me a text.”
“Right,” I confirmed, giving my phone an appreciative squeeze. I loved its initiative.
“Can you get my sister, the girls, and their pets out of harm’s way?” asked Poly.
“We can get them to our buffet location,” said Kijanna.
“That will have to do,” said Poly with a thin-lipped smile.
“Wait a second,” said Pomy. “I want to help, not be out of the action.”
“Me too,” said Emma Ann.
“You can both help by making sure the girls are safe,” I said.
Then I remembered a famous quote. “They also serve who only stand and wait.”
“Don’t I know it,” said François under his breath.
We reclaimed our mini-sweeteners from Pomy—they had plenty of firepower with Bavarian’s laser and Emma Anne’s weapons. They also had plenty of muscle with Spot and Spike. Terrhi used her arms to lever herself into the back of the van. The rear compartment was crowded with two large animals, a juvenile Dauushan, and four humans, but they fit. We waved as Kijanna shut the loading doors and they drove away, the G-below-Middle-C drone of their van sounding like a mellow cello, not my van’s familiar bassoon.
Poly and I tried to make out what was going on down by the stage. It was a blur of black and green dotted with blue. I could see the Tōdon delegates—they were hard to miss—and a knot of three or four Dauushans, but we didn’t have the right angle or enough altitude to see more.
“Climb one of the trees to get a better view?” I suggested.
“Too many leaves in your way to be useful,” said Poly. “Why not ask your phone to play drone?”
“That’s why,” I said, pointing at a dozen camouflaged Homeplanet Security hunter-killer drones painted to look like turkey buzzards. “They have air-to-air missiles.”
“Got it,” said Poly. “So why did you encourage Chit to go airborne?”
“She’s not big enough to attract their interest,” I said.
I hope, I thought. I wished I had my backpack tool bag. If I had my climbing tools, I could shimmy up one of the nearby light poles.
Then something tickled. My phone was crawling up the front of my torso along the strap of my spoils-of-war rifle until it got to my shoulder.
“Binoculars-mode is a specialty,” it said in a voice imitating C-3PO.
Poly gave me a you-should-have-known-that look and we both checked out my phone’s screen as it showed us more details of the confusion near the stage. Now we could see what was happening in the pink blur. Tomáso and Diágo, the head of the queen’s security team, were on either side of Queen Sherrhi, trying to protect her from attacking Macerators. They’d used one of the Tōdon delegates as a substitute for a wall, so they had one less side to defend.
I watched as an attacker slipped past Diágo, requiring Sherrhi to grab him in her sub-trunks and send him sailing back twenty yards or more into the milling mass of Macerators. Homeplanet Security’s forces were much better trained, and were trying to help the queen, but they were outnumbered by four to one and had to protect all the delegates, not just the ones from Dauush.
“We’ve got to get down there,” I said. “Our friends need us.”
“I agree,” said Poly, “but how? We can’t fight our way through that meat grinder.”
“There is a way,” said my phone.
“Enlighten us,” I requested.
“Before congruencies changed things, all the attractions at the north end of the park were heated by steam from a generating plant a few blocks south,” it said.
“I don’t see any more Macerators coming out of manholes,” said Poly. “The tunnels are probably empty now.”
“What sort of probability do you attach to that probably?” I asked.
“He never wants to be told the odds,” said my phone to Poly, still using C-3PO’s voice.
Poly laughed. I made a Grumpy Cat face.
“Where’s the nearest entrance to the steam tunnels?” I asked.
“Five feet ahead of you,” said my phone. “Look down.”
I did. It was grate.
“Mutakey service, please,” I requested.
My phone jumped down to the six-foot steel grate installed flush with the ground. It was secured by a simple padlock hanging down at the near side. I assumed the grate was originally placed here to help moderate the temperature in the park during the winter by allowing some steam to escape. In seconds, the padlock was open and my phone was happily congratulating itself on its own resourcefulness.
I had to tug extra-hard to get the grate to move. I think the hinges had rusted in the past decade or so since the widespread use of congruent energy. Finally, it moved, with a sound a lot like those ominous creaks you hear when doors that should remain closed are opened in horror movies. At least now it was daylight.
I put my fears aside and located the metal rungs of a ladder made from bent reinforcing rods embedded in the wall of the shaft leading down into the steam tunnel.
Hadn’t they made a Dungeons & Dragons movie about adventures in steam tunnels?
“Flip you for who goes first,” I offered.
“You’re standing there,” said Poly. “Just go.”
I had a foot on the first rung when Chit came buzzing in, gesticulating wildly with her forelegs. She settled on my shoulder so I could only see her using my peripheral vision.
“Jack! Poly! You’ve gotta look,” Chit shouted.
Poly turned and followed where Chit’s forelegs were pointing. I looked where she looked—it was easier than trying to figure out what Chit intended when I could barely glimpse her out of the corner of my eye. She was pointing to the southwest. I could see a collection of large, black, vaguely-humanoid shapes a thousand feet up, approaching at high speed.
Xenotech General Mayhem: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 4) Page 36
