On the Run (Wine of the Gods Book 28)

by Pam Uphoff

  "Hobby gardener. Remember? No reason a garden can't be both beautiful and productive." She nodded. "It's late in the year, if I can identify the trees, I'll mark them and transplant them this winter."

  ***

  By mid winter they were settled in. Comfortable and happy. Even Frost was enjoying her garden, adding plants whenever the weather cleared. Mirk suspected it was going to be spectacular, come spring.

  Mirk schmoozed regularly with his co-workers. Business lunches, after work barely alcoholic drinks. Worked his ass off and loved it. They had people over for dinner. Business associates of both genders, with . . . partners. Like witches they apparently didn't marry, just formed civil unions to raise children. Unlike witches, having children had nothing to do with sex.

  Not that there wasn't sex. Humans couldn't be trained out of hormonal impulses. But an awful lot of them seemed unclear on the concept and stuck to some sort of "Virtual Reality" stimulation. Mirk was afraid to try it.

  The kids had friends in and out, they had their parents over for dinner and card games several times.

  Nice people without any deep challenges, certainly not physical. Their exercise regimes were calculated for maximum health benefits, not hard labor. Sports competitions were as close to hostilities as was allowed. And their version of hostile bore a strong resemblance to grumpy irritation.

  Friends. I have . . . friends. How very unexpected.

  It's a stress-free, relaxing life. Exactly what we all need right now. But eventually . . . I wonder who will break first, me or Frost? I'll get bored, or too ambitious. Frost will start missing her children, wondering what happened to them . . . And the girls. When will they tire of a few magic exercises in the backyard and start showing off to their friends?

  Worry later. Enjoy everything we have, right now.

  "The only thing I really miss is a fireplace." Mirk looked at the vid screen, which was showing a montage of flames. "They don't even have proper vids of fires, let alone the sensual impact of . . . glowing coals, the radiant heat, the occasional snap, the faint smoky smell, no matter how well designed and built . . . "

  "Hot cocoa." Halberd sighed. "Eggnog. They didn't even have a Solstice celebration."

  Napalm sniffed. "Annie thought we were weird, giving presents. 'If you want it, why didn't you go buy it?' Like she'd never been surprised by something she'd never thought of."

  She plunked down in front of the screen and scowled. "Can we watch a movie?"

  "Might as well." Mirk got up and headed for his room. He couldn't stand the insipid entertainment, even with the three witches' sarcastic commentary.

  The windows rattled, a faint shake, a deep distant boom . . . "Thunder? That sounded almost more like an explosion."

  Chapter Four

  Winter 1400 px/15-2-3517

  St. Louis, Utopia

  Black clouds of smoke rising in the south. Another explosion rattled the city. Mirk could feel it though his boots.

  "Nexus, what is causing the emergency?"

  "Unknown."

  Mirk shivered. Hopefully this is an industrial accident. But does this computer understand anything about war? Heh. Finally something I'm an expert at.

  "Nexus, do aircars have exterior cameras? I recommend sending one—no passengers—to view the area of those explosions."

  "An excellent suggestion, Mirk Negue. Complying."

  Mirk turned and trotted back inside. "Display the pictures on my screen. I recommend you start at about a three hundred foot altitude."

  "Aircars require proximity to the ground to operate."

  Mirk sighed. And stood and watched the street level view of burning buildings, people running.

  Soldiers in dull black armor, brass . . . not helmets, more like oculars, over one eye and other brassy bits here and there, glued onto the shaven scalps.

  He squinted. The nearest soldier's left arm almost looked . . . robotic. The soldier raised his weapon, pointed it at the aircar . . . a flash and the screen blanked.

  "Nexus, that looked like an invasion. Do you have protocols for dealing with war?"

  "War is not permitted . . . "

  "And a very good idea that is. Unfortunately those people don't seem to care about your laws." Mirk bit his lip. A high tech war. I've only read about them. Swords and cavalry charges aren't going to work here . . . except I ought to be able to scale up the tech, the speed and range of weapons . . . "Do you have any weapons? Defensive weaponry?"

  "No. Weapons are forbidden."

  "Surveillance. You spotted us in the middle of the savannah. Satellites? Can you get me an aerial view of the area of destruction?"

  The picture sprung up. Half obscured by smoke. "Five houses and two shopping centers have been damaged or destroyed. Fire suppression is not working very well. I diagnose a break in the water main supplying the area."

  "Zoom out . . . pan south slowly. I need to see where they are coming from."

  The view shrunk . . . drifted south. Miles of road full of ground vehicles. And a large encampment. Then nothing.

  Mirk bit his lip. "They must be coming through a dimensional gate. Zoom in and look for vehicles appearing from nowhere."

  A road. Vehicles rolling out of small building that couldn't hold more than one or two of them.

  "Right. The gate is in there. We need to close it, first, then deal with the forces that are already here. Zoom out a little, I'll need a path . . . there are plenty of cross streets in their camp."

  "They are not responding to my requests to cease their destructive actions."

  Mirk closed his eyes. Requests! "We need to evacuate the southern part of the city . . . Frost, can you coordinate that? Nexus, I need a large aircar, and I'm going to have to break a lot of safety rules."

  "Breaking safety . . . "

  "Nexus, shut up. Dig into your memory archives about the history of the Earth we left behind. Read what happens to people who can't fight back." He got up and headed for the door. "Aircar now. I'll need manual controls. And disengage the door locks, I'll be getting out while it's moving."

  "Vehicular mayhem is not a good idea, but . . . I calculate that it may be needed to close the 'gate' as you call it. I will guide it in."

  "They may . . . I have no idea why it is called 'jamming' but radio frequency interference may be in use."

  "I see. I am searching old archived programs . . . this is very alarming!"

  "Aircar. Quickly." Mirk spotted the movement and ran out to the road.

  A sporty convertible model sighed to a halt. He jumped in. It . . . moved away. At a moderate speed.

  "Nexus . . . manual controls?"

  "There are no aircars with those features. I have disabled the safety belt programming, and if my signal is jammed, emergency controls will pop out from a drop down panel so you can steer to a stop."

  "I need to keep going. I ought to go faster now, as . . . Nexus, I need to go wide around the invaders and approach at a high velocity from the side. Can you override the power controls and speed this thing up?"

  "I am . . . overwriting the control algorithms . . . and if jammed . . . the vehicle will stay at this velocity."

  The car sped up until it was at a horse's sprint speed.

  Thirty miles an hour! Mirk unclenched his fists. "Thank you. Now please get me out of town on the west or southwest as quickly as possible, then south."

  Information. I need more information. "We need to figure out who those people are, why they are attacking us, and what they want, and expect to get . . . There are no defenses, which they will figure out soon enough . . . Nexus . . . if they have any idea about how this world works, they will be trying to capture you."

  "I am a very widespread electromagnetic phenomenon . . . but half of my computing power is physically based here."

  Mirk sat up. "Is this the only point of attack? Are the other cities . . . "

  "All other cities are peaceful, the satellites show no other concentrations of unknown people."


  "Good. I suggest that anyone evacuating head for the nearest city . . . San Francisco, right?"

  The aircar passed the last houses and cruised on until the road ended. Then it turned south.

  I've been spoiled by the high tech worlds I've lived on the last two years. A horse would be exhausted and stumbling by now. But sixty miles an hour would be nice! And a hundred, much more useful.

  "Based on old programs, I approve what you are doing. I will continue to attempt to negotiate."

  Mirk hunched his shoulders. "May I suggest that you do not reveal that you are a machine. Keep them looking for a man and his high tech broadcast equipment, not just hunting down a computer."

  "I have already informed them that I am the Nexus . . . "

  "Stop it! Stop giving them information they can use against us." Mirk looked around the aircar and found nothing useful to hit with his head. "And make sure any critical information you have stored here is duplicated somewhere outside of the city. In fact start manufacturing replacement parts for yourself in other cities. If we can defeat these invaders . . ."

  "We cannot fight them! That will just escalate the amount of damage they will do. I have run a gaming simulation. They should stop the attack soon, now that they have demonstrated their aggression. They will parley now and demand our surrender."

  "If we surrender, they will use our resources to attack the next city." Mirk craned his neck. Was it time to angle in toward their camp?

  "Once they see that we are no threat to them, they will no longer fear us, and will cease hostilities."

  "I . . . think you are incorrect in assuming they are acting out of fear." Crap. That hunk of rust is an idiot!

  And my most valuable asset.

  "I am reconsidering the wisdom of your mission."

  Time to start lying to my ally! Mirk nodded slowly. "Yes. I suppose we need to approach cautiously, peacefully, I should not have assumed that they were brutal killers. My first impulse was hasty." He held his breath. The aircar continued south.

  Thank Gods! The Nexus is equally naïve about me, and these soldiers.

  He heaved a sigh of relief, and kept lying. "I will try to contact them, and explain that we are not threatening them. However, talking to the people in control back at their headquarters is probably a better idea than approaching the underlings doing the intimidating."

  Bloody fucking hell. Those people had better jam the Nexus's control of this car or nothing is going to stop the invaders from moving in so many soldiers they outnumber the population of the World! And this city is . . . probably already a lost cause.

  "I am sending a peace delegation, now. So your mission may not be necessary."

  Fat bloody chance. "Oh, I hope so."

  I'm talking to it like it's an utter moron . . . not far off the truth. "May I see vid of the meeting? Perhaps it should be public."

  "Yes. The delegation is approaching the strangers now. Vid is on channel 56."

  Mirk eyed the control panel. Nothing to steer with, but of course there's a small screen.

  He winced as he spotted the long shot of the aircars approaching the fires. The figures in black and bronze setting up a line of large guns . . . The aircars grounded and people emerged. Men and women in business suits. An even dozen . . . Old Gods! Is that Felix? Why did the Nexus send a finance manager into a battle zone . . . Because it has no diplomats and Felix Pierce gets along well with everyone . . .

  The soldiers stepped out from behind their line of weapons and walked forward to meet them. And from a close range, the strangers suddenly sprinted forward, drawing hand weapons and firing.

  Men and women fell. Some ran . . . were pursued and dragged back.

  "They are not responding to my informing them that non-voluntary physical contact is forbidden by law."

  "Nexus." Mirk tried hard to keep the horror and fury out of his voice. "Do you have protocols for dealing with dangerous animals and defective, dangerous machinery? Because that appears to be what we are faced with."

  Chapter Five

  Winter 1400 px/15-2-3517

  St. Louis, Utopia

  "They are not animals."

  Mirk grit his teeth. This is not the time to antagonize the moronic . . . "They appear to be human, but their behavior is in line with the worst of the disrecommended games. Is my vision mistaken, or did they have considerable bionic . . . replacement parts?"

  "They did. The left arm has been replaced with an electromechanical prosthesis. Very versatile and strong. It demonstrates impressive medical engineering abilities."

  Mirk boggled. "I doubt this is a club for accidental left arm amputees. I suspect their doctors are removing perfectly healthy left arms, possibly something with the eye, and the plates on the skull may indicate brain implants. You might analyze their actions, looking for programmed behavior that might indicate the level of control from a single source."

  "Mirk Negue, your current actions are unsafe."

  Switch tactics, Prince Mirk. This calls for diplomatic doublespeak. "I know. But we need to try to talk to these people. I will observe and determine if the leaders are also mechanically augmented."

  "This knowledge would be useful. No doubt there was insufficient communications between the leaders of these people and the people at the forefront of their encroachment."

  Encroachment. Lovely. A synonym of invasion, but not actually saying we're being attacked.

  "Yes. It would be a nightmare to think the leaders ordered that appalling behavior." Gods! The diplomatic pabulum just rolls off my tongue. Old training dies hard.

  "It is time to turn the aircar toward the encampment. I am having to fight my own protocols, now that I know how dangerous it is to approach these people."

  "But I am a single person, much less threatening. And I am more able to take precautions, being suspicious of these . . . is the term cyborg? I think I read a story . . . Umm, I am suspicious of the cyborgs, and will approach with caution. Keeping near objects I can duck behind." While I find out if my magic shields are hard enough to stop bullets, how far I can stun and slice when fighting for my life, and whether an unnoticeable spell works on cyborgs.

  "I compute that . . ."

  Silence.

  The panel with the screen swung down. A five inch circle clearly labeled "To steer: rotate the circle right to turn right" with a arrow pointing right and curving down. "To turn left rotate the circle left" with the left arrow curving . . .

  Mirk grinned and put his hand on the circle and turned east. "Time to see what we can do about that gate."

  He frowned and remembered the "unnoticeable" spell.

  It's been what, two years? A bit less? Since I let Jade change my Negue family power gene to a regular mage gene. And add a wizard gene. Like the rest of the royal family, I could exude charisma and form a mental shield to keep my thoughts in and others out. But that's all it was good for. I've picked up a few things since . . . now I wish I'd been less of a snotty noble and more of a good magic student.

  He shoved jitters aside. Pulled power from the sun and applied it to the unnoticeable spell. Envisioned it ballooning out and covering the whole aircar.

  Lumps on the horizon. Enemy camp in sight. Last he'd seen the gate building had been roughly central, the vehicles exiting to the north.

  So he needed to get into the encampment north of the middle, so he could turn south for the gate.

  In a few minutes he was close enough to see the ends of the streets, some with ongoing construction of buildings, extending the enemy camp. He steered for one with no construction . . . just gravel, not a real street. He swerved to miss a wheeled vehicle that apparently couldn't see him . . .

  Excellent!

  He veered away from another, around a third . . .

  This would be a lot easier if I could control my speed . . .

  He slewed around a corner onto a broad street . . . small building dead ahead, across the road . . . Empty. Nothing but the back of the building showing. A sh
ort line of trucks waiting on the right side of the street.

  Crap! The gate isn't turned on.

  A quick turn down a side street. Large tents, small plywood buildings looking not much sturdier. Another car to dodge and those pedestrians . . .

  Damn it all to hell. What do I do now? Drive in circles, pop back through and see if it's on? There are trucks waiting, so it can't be days until it opens.

  He caught a glimpse of something . . . circled the block and cruised by. A large building. Better built than the rest, but still looking raw and unfinished. Writing in an unfamiliar alphabet across the front. Double doors propped open.

  Headquarters, maybe?

  Cyborgs unloading bodies. Carrying them into a building through the front doors.

  Dead or stunned? Must be alive . . . unless they use dead bodies to create the cyborgs.

  What controls the cyborgs? A computer like the Nexus?

  Hospital, morgue, or prison?

  He cut south, then east, he didn't want to lose track of the gate . . . swerved and skidded to miss a truck coming up the gate road, turned onto a side road, cut further south and then back . . . Turned early to squeeze the left side of the road.

  "Timing, timing, Old Gods damn these remote controlled vehicles . . . "

  A truck was pulling away from the building and he swerved straight for the back of it.

  Must not hit the door frame, nor the truck . . .

  He stood up, stooped over to steer. One foot on the side of the aircar.

  The truck kept going. He steered right then left. The aircar's nose entered the doorway.

  He jumped.

  Chapter Six

  Winter 1400 px/15-2-3517

  St. Louis, Utopia

  Mirk staggered, ran.

  Was thrown through the air, hit a tent that folded, was hit by a large sheet of plywood. He could feel things hitting the panel, so he stayed under it . . . assessing . . .

  Hearing's dull. Got all my bodyparts. Bruised, but I don't think anything's broken.