~~~~~~
The cruiser rounded a curve, and the autopilot slammed on the breaks. Ahead of them, a barricade of crates, and pallets blocked the road. An overturned semi-trailer truck lay on its side beyond the barricade. A robotic tunnel drill had rolled off the trailer when it flipped over and smashed into a convenience store. Flames poured out of the cab.
On the street were knots of roving men. An elf and a pair of goblins stood on the burning trailer. The elf egged on the mob.
Jack silently thanked the Crown for the armored cruiser. None but a fool would dare attack a machine emblazoned with the Crown’s coat of arms. Shielded with bullet proof armor, force fields against energy weapons and armed with automatic weapons, the cruiser was Nodlon’s basic light mobile infantry weapon. Though limited in maneuverability on the ground, the cruiser was effective in Nodlon’s tubular streets and level-ways. Many of the thugs ran at the sight.
Gumshoe stabbed his caster console, and Marcie appeared on the cruiser’s vid. “Marcie, I’ve just driven into a riot in the Halls of Industry. I need back up now. We’re going to need ambulances, fire support, and plenty of officers. Got all that?”
A beer bottle shattered on the cruiser’s force shields.
“Babe, I’ve got you in Moab at Angeles and Houston. Is that right?”
“Yeah, and it’s getting ugly.”
Stones and bricks and bottles pelted the cruiser. The improvised artillery bounced off the force shields, but the cruiser shook under the impact.
Marcie punched her own console. “Help is on the way dear, just hang on.” Marcie’s image popped, sizzled, and the vid screen went blue. A warning in friendly letters told them the signal was unavailable.
“We’ve lost the signal! They’re jamming us!”
Bottles burst on the street. Bricks smashed the glass, and the glass crunched. Stones struck the cruiser thumped against the cab and bounced off the shields.
“Autopilot, passcode Horace, set all weapons to stun, and initiate auto defense,” said Gumshoe. “And get us out of here!”
An unseen assailant threw a Molotov cocktail. The burning fuel slid off the shields, and flames erupted on the pavement.
The autopilot reversed hard and threw them against their harnesses. The hood parted and the cruiser deployed an anti-personnel blaster. The cruiser fired at the ruffians throwing stones.
Stunned, an elf fell from the top of the barricade. Men throwing bricks collapsed, a goblin on top of a truck dropped out of sight. The rest ducked for cover. Safe from the stun blaster, the thugs blindly catapulted stones over their barricade.
The cruiser surged away from the barrier, and the hail of bric-a-brac landed harmlessly in front of them.
The autopilot slammed on the brakes throwing them all against their seats. Gumshoe twisted around his seat and looked backwards.
A black airship blocked their path. It stretched across all four lanes of Houston Street.
Dwarves in black baseball caps and uniforms streamed out of the airship. They carried lightning guns and wore mirrored sunglasses to protect their eyes. They fanned out between the barricade and the airship, and fired at the cruiser.
Lightning bolts hit the cruiser’s shields and ricocheted wildly in all directions. Stray bolts struck the barricade, and the tunnel walls.
A center block thrown over the barrier bounced off the cruiser’s shields, and rocked the car. Shotgun ducked. “What the heck is going on out there?”
The black dwarves fired heedless of the risk of stray bolts. The cruiser’s blaster stunned a dwarf. The dwarf fell spread eagle, and his lightning gun skittered away.
Jack turned to Gumshoe who was jabbing at his console trying to communicate with the dispatcher. “Those black dwarves are shooting at us!”
Bolts flew wildly. A bolt hit a fence strung across a stack of pallets, and a wise guy collapsed.
Seeing the folly of risking the deadly hail, the ruffians lost their courage. Men, elves, and goblins hoofed it down the street and darted into the alleys and corners.
The cruiser stunned another dwarf. Hit by the blaster, the dwarf staggered. A second strike sent him to his knees and a third knocked him to the ground.
Jack tried to count the remaining dwarves, and saw one struck by a bolt. The dwarf’s tunic flared and the dwarf dropped in his tracks. His weapon clattered on the pavement.
Gumshoe watched the airship in his rearview mirror. The airship’s side door parted. “They’re doing something. Where’s our backup?” He drew his pistol and set it to stun, “Jack, open the dashboard panel.”
Jack popped a panel. “It’s just medical supplies!”
“Open the other one!”
The airship’s cargo bay opened and a cantilevered arm swung from out of the ship. A pod separated into two segments and unfolded. The pieces began assembling themselves.
The arm swung around to point at the cruiser.
“Too late, they’ve got a lightning cannon!” Gumshoe seized the wheel, and mashed the accelerator to the floor.
The cannon telescoped into a barrel. A blue-green glow ran up the cantilever, up the cannon, and down the barrel. Light radiated from the barrel’s rings. A vibration drummed the air.
Gumshoe searched for a softer section of the barricade. He spotted a metal fence, and veered. The cruiser hit the fence, and splattered pallets, crates, and concrete blocks over the pavement. The nose sank into the fence.
Traveling at low speed, a broken wire slipped through the shields and caught a crack between the wheel and fender. One side gave way. The fence flopped off its hinges, and swung away from its anchorage. Concrete blocks toppled over the cruiser slithering off the shields.
The cruiser’s nose caught in the frame, and the mesh flipped over the hood. Momentum slung Shotgun’s door against a stack of crates. The stack rolled over the cruiser and down the trunk.
A white flash and a thunderclap struck, and the cruiser quaked. They shut their eyes, and threw up their hands to shield their faces.
Gumshoe unbuckled his harness and pushed Jack, yelling something inaudible over the pounding in his ears. The cruiser rocked. Smoke billowed from its instrument panel. The Inspector pounded Jack and pointed.
Jack unbuckled his harness, and threw open his door. Diving out of the cruiser, he scrambled behind a crate and looked back for his companions.
Gumshoe crawled over the passenger seat, and rolled out of the cruiser. He crawled on his elbows to avoid being a target. Still, there was no sign of Shotgun.
Recovering his wits, Jack’s Army days came back to him. From long ago, he remembered his drill sergeant yelling at him as he low crawled through an obstacle course. One strike of a lightning gun and he was a dead man.
The dwarves ran. They dove for cover. He guessed fear of the lightning cannon kept them at bay.
A dwarf ran up the sidewalk to the barricade. The dwarf flung himself into the pile.
In the military, he trained with personal shields. A shield pack offered a quarter hour of protection against energy weapons, and conventional kinetic weapons. After that you were on your own.
None of them wore a personal combat shield.
If he used his telekinetic power as a shield, would it stop lightning bolts? He had no idea. It had never been tested against a lightning gun. New spells took time and often went awry until he understood how the spell worked. Time he did not have.
Jack, time to get your act together showman, this is life and death! Envisioning his shield, he fashioned a new spell. The shields had to stop lightning, flame, high velocity projectiles and heavy objects. He summoned his magic, and he cast shields around himself and his companions.
His confidence returned, and he broke cover to peek at the airship. Two dwarves manned the lightning cannon. One sat behind the cannon on the gunner’s seat. The other manned the cantilever controls next to the cannon. They both carried lightning guns slung from shoulder belts.
&n
bsp; Gumshoe was nowhere to be seen.
The black dwarves had taken cover.
The airship was no more than thirty yards away, and the red glow of the fire warning light flashed on the gunner’s face. He was waiting for the capacitors to cool. When the cannon cooled, he would fire again.
Jack recalled firing a lightning cannon once during infantry training. The cannon looked like an air cooled model designed for light infantry support. They were powerful cannons but fired slowly without spare capacitors or backup cooling units. They forgot to bring spare capacitors.
He was furious. He summoned a lightning bolt. Jumping up, he broke his cover. He put his fists together and aimed at the cannon.
The dwarf manning the cantilever pushed away from the controls, and brought his lightning gun up to aim at Jack.
Jack fired. The lightning discharged from his hands. Stars flash in his eyes, and his arms were thrown apart.
Jack’s bolt hit the generator, and the capacitors detonated. The gunner fell over backwards and the cantilever operator was blown against the airship’s jamb and thrown prostrate to the street. The cannon’s barrel ruptured and sparks flew out of the lightning generator. Fire spurted from the capacitors. Oil sprayed from the cannon’s transformer blowing a mist onto the airship.
He staggered backwards, blindly trying to remain on his feet and blundered into a stack of crates. The stack rolled over the cruiser. Without its shields, a pallet shattered the disabled cruiser’s windshield. He crouched low behind a crate and rubbed his eyes. He tried to restore his vision. Blinking, the stars dissolved and the pavement gray returned. He glanced in all directions looking for friends and foes.
The cannon quivered and the barrel snapped. The barrel struck the cannon’s mount and a spark spat out of its mouth striking the cantilever. The spark backfired and the oil burst into flames. The flames ran into the cargo bay, and the airship exploded in a fireball. The ball of fire rose over the airship, and a cloud of greasy smoke mushroomed over the machine.
Jack flinched as debris whizzed by him. He threw up a hand to protect his face from the heat radiating from the fireball. Smoke crawled over the artificial clouds, and set off the fire alarms. The fire extinguishers sprayed gas, and doused the fire. The airship’s ruin smoldered. He searched for Gumshoe.
The Inspector was on the ground not far away. A lump jumped into his throat. Then Gumshoe pushed himself off the ground.
The Inspector reached into his trench coat and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He donned these, and tried to rise.
Jack ran to Gumshoe and helped him stand.
“Magic shields,” he shouted. He thumped his chest, “personal shields.”
The Inspector gave him thumbs up, and waved at the cruiser. His lips moved. All Jack heard was a tinny ringing, but he understood. Shotgun was still in the cruiser.
The cruiser was immobile. Its rear end blackened and its trunk was partially smelted. He could not see Shotgun. He ran to the cruiser’s window and stooped to peer inside.
The dwarf was on the back seat. He was still and his eyes were closed.
In the corner of his eye, a black dwarf moved. He ducked behind the cruiser, and shut his eyes. He hit the asphalt at full speed, and he bounced as his shield slapped the pavement. He saw the flash through his eyelids, and felt the crack of thunder.
Jack rolled off the pavement, and ran for the barricade, still wary of his shield’s power.
He saw Gumshoe hiding behind a crate.
A dwarf leapt from the barricade, not seeing the policeman. He raised his lightning gun to aim at Jack, and the policeman fired. The stun bolt popped, and the flash was hardly brighter than a torch. The dwarf staggered and dropped his lightning gun. Gumshoe fired again, and the dwarf fell to the pavement unconscious.
Jack focused and recast his shield spell over Gumshoe. In a crouch, he scrambled back to the cruiser. Focusing his energy, he recast a shield to protect Shotgun.
He left the cruiser, and darted to the barricade to watch Gumshoe’s back. He saw two dwarves sneaking along the barricade. They had found a breach and were darting towards Gumshoe using the crates as cover.
“Behind you,” he shouted. Gumshoe spun around but he was too slow. One of the younger dwarves dropped a bead on him and fired his lightning gun point blank. The bolt flashed and thunder cracked the air.
Blinking, he fought to restore his vision. As the pavement came into focus, he searched for the detective. The dwarf was lying on the pavement. His uniform was scorched and the lightning gun beside him was twisted and smoldering.
The other dwarf attacked, and Gumshoe fired.
The dwarf staggered, firing wildly, and fell to the ground stunned. Not waiting, the detective ran up the barricade, and worked his way away through the debris looking for attackers.
Gumshoe had survived a lightning gun blast at point blank range. His shield had saved the detective’s life. Jack took no pleasure in the sight of the fallen dwarf, but he was glad the Inspector was alive.
“Next time,” Clay chastised himself, “I need to think of these spells ahead of time.”
The fallen dwarf’s sunglasses had fallen to the pavement. Jack envisioned his traction spell, and cast a tether on the sunglasses. The glasses snapped in two. Jack caught a half piece, and put it on.
Lying not far away was the lightning gun that had nearly killed him. He cast a traction spell. Using the traction, he cast a tether on the gun, and it flew into his arms. Recalling his military training, he armed the gun, checked the power, and set the weapon on stun.
Circling the end of the cruiser with one eye closed, his cloak caught on the fence mesh. He spun round and shed his cloak.
A red dwarf seized the opportunity, and bore down on him.
Freed from the fence, he raised his own weapon. The dwarf fired first and the bolt bounced off his shield and blasted a crate. The crate exploded showering them both in wooden shrapnel. Surprised, the startled dwarf glanced at the crate. Jack fired his weapon point blank, and the stunned dwarf fell to the pavement.
Gumshoe ran down the left flank.
Jack darted the other way. He risked a peek over the cruiser’s melted trunk, and saw a dwarf break cover. From the new vantage, he saw three dwarves in front of him.
All three spotted him and fired at him. He counted on his shield for protection, and kept running. He fired at the nearest dwarf. The dwarf dropped his weapon and fell unconscious.
Jack instinctively dove to one side to evade the other dwarf. Lightning bolts whizzed past him. A bolt flashed over his shoulder, and another shattered a pallet. He raised his weapon to fire, and a bolt struck him.
Stars flashed in his unprotected eye. The nearest dwarf flew up as he twirled away from Jack. The dwarf’s weapon spun out of his hand, and he fell. His head bounced on the pavement.
The remaining dwarf aimed again at Jack. Relying on his shield, Jack raised his weapon. The dwarf fired first.
Expecting the flash and the clap, he blinked and held his position. The bolt ricocheted off his shield and backfired. The ricochet hit the asphalt and bounced.
The bolt grazed the dwarf and he flinched. He jumped aside, and he spun to turn his weapon on Jack.
He stunned him and the dwarf fell. The dwarf hit the ground, and he charged. He ran down the barricade searching for dwarves.
Finding a breach, he ducked through the hole and spun about looking for more dwarves. Seeing none, he ran up the barricade on the back side. He reached the cruiser without encountering resistance. He avoided the mesh, kicked aside a crate and broke back through the barricade.
Gumshoe ran down the front of the barricade holding his pistol. He searched for dwarves hiding in the crates. Then, he pointed at the airship.
Jack followed the Inspector’s direction and saw the cantilever operator recovering. He ran towards the dwarf, held up his weapon, and cried, “On the ground!”
The red dwarf pushed the pavemen
t and sat up. He dove for his lightning gun. He landed in a belly flop and snatched his weapon.
Jack brought up his weapon and skidded to a halt. The dwarf gripped the gun’s handle and rolled on the asphalt to swing the barrel. Clay aimed at the prone dwarf, and fired. Stunned, the dwarf dropped his weapon and went back to sleep.
Searching for more foes, Jack saw Gumshoe whirling his finger. He understood and circled the airship looking for more combatants. The airship still smoldered and wisps of smoke wafted from the interior. He checked the cargo bay, and saw the gunner. The dwarf was beyond any help. The passenger doors were too hot to touch. Using his traction spell, he tried to open them, but succeeded only in causing the doors to jerk in their frames. Going forward, he found the driver’s cab empty. He jogged around the airship and saw no more dwarves.
A Bad Mole
Up Houston Street a green airship approached fast. Ambulances and other vehicles sped down the center of the road.
Jack finished his reconnaissance, and circled the airship.
Gumshoe helped Shotgun out of the cruiser. Shotgun leaned on the cruiser’s bumper, and the detective steadied the dwarf.
Jack jogged back to the cruiser. “The cavalry’s arrived. They’re coming up Houston.” He threw the lightning gun into the cruiser’s trunk and sat on the bumper next to Shotgun.
“Are you all right?” yelled Gumshoe. He faced Jack and yelled, “Can you hear me?”
“Ringing in my ears,” said Jack.
Gumshoe touched his ear. “Let the medics help you.”
The Moab Surete arrived in riot gear carrying lightning guns. Molemen deployed over the impromptu battlefield.
A sergeant jogged up to them, “Inspector Lestrayed?”
“Yes, son,” said Gumshoe. “You need to secure the area, Sergeant.”
“I’m Sergeant York, and we’re securing the area now. Are you all right?”
“We need a medic,” said Gumshoe.
“I’ll have a medic here soon.” The Sergeant barked into the caster hooked on his uniform. The police flanked the barricade and encircled the truck. They deployed portable barriers and began setting up a perimeter.
“Sergeant, are you in charge?”
“No, sir, Constable Wiggles is in charge. He’s just a few minutes away.”
“Then I suggest you carry on.”
The Sergeant fingered his lightning gun. More policemen in riot gear began collecting the lightning guns near the fallen dwarves. Sergeant York’s men checked the dwarves. They bound the living and tagged the dead with red tags.
The sergeant’s caster squawked and he cocked his head to listen. Then he barked into the caster again.
“Constable Wiggles is here. I’ve cleared the medics and techs to enter. The medics should be here in a jiffy.”
Medics jogged around the airship, and began checking the fallen. All of them carried scanners, backpacks and bags. A robot carried a defibrillator, an oxygen pump, and a pack with a dozen cardiopulmonary resuscitation robots.
The Sergeant moved off to take charge of his team.
A mature moleman raced up to them with a pressure cuff, a medic’s kit, and a stethoscope around his neck.
“Are any of you injured?”
“Check the others,” said Gumshoe, “we can wait.”
Constable Wiggles circled the airship and the portly moleman changed course to meet them.
The medic left them to their own devices, and checked the fallen dwarves.
“Gumshoe,” said Wiggles. “Had a rough bit of luck, hey?”
“We were ambushed,” said Gumshoe. “I’ve told York to secure the area and the stunned dwarves, and I see his men are on it. Good man.”
“Yes, York’s reliable. He’s a solid, honest, hard-working, and not very imaginative policeman. In short, he’s a typical moleman. What happened?”
“You said it,” said Gumshoe. “We were headed back to the Yard. The level-way was jammed, so I came down to the Halls to avoid the traffic. When we turned the corner here, we nearly ran into this barricade.
“The usual suspects manned the barricades, and they pelted us with stones and bricks. I called for backup. But when I tried to retreat, the airship blocked our path.”
Gumshoe left Shotgun with Clay, and led Wiggles to the airship.
The moleman’s belly jiggled as he strutted to keep up with the taller man.
“When the airship arrived we lost all communications. They must have jammed us. The dwarves here jumped out of the back of the airship armed with lightning guns. They fired wildly as if they’d been trained in an arcade. Bolts bounced off the cruiser’s shield and ricocheted everywhere. The hoodlums disappeared in a hurry, probably afraid of a stray shot.
“The dwarves pinned us down with the lightning guns. I wasn’t too worried. Help was on the way, and shooting at my cruiser they were doing more damage to each other than to us. Then I saw them unloading this.”
They stopped at the cannon’s ruins.
“The Black Dwarf knew the guns couldn’t penetrate the cruiser’s shields. They brought the cannon to finish the job.”
“It’s a setup,” said Wiggles. “They organized the riot for you. It must have been staged for your benefit.”
“That’s why I like you, Wiggles,” said Gumshoe. “You have a suspicious mind.”
“Coming from you, that’s a compliment.”
“Someone planned this, and we need an informer to give us a lead. Find out who put up this barricade. Interrogate the survivors, and round up usual suspects in the neighborhood. The hooligans know who started this riot. And if we can get one of the dwarves to talk, maybe we can find out where we can find the Black Dwarf.”
“We’re on it. York’s rounding up the survivors as we speak.”
Gumshoe waved at the fallen dwarves. “I stunned most of these chaps myself. When they wake up they may not be in the mood to be taken into custody. They were poorly trained, and easy to pick off. Worse, they inflicted most of their own casualties.”
“While I’m glad you’re alive, friend, my suspicious mind cannot figure out how you destroyed a lightning cannon without even a blaster or a military grade personal shield?”
“Not sure, Wiggles, I was on the ground low-crawling for my life when the airship blew up.”
“And you’d rather not speculate?”
“Beats me, I was busy trying not to be cannon fodder.”
“Just trying to figure out how to explain it, Mole News will demand a statement, and I’ve got a report to write.”
“If you need a story, we suspect a malfunction due to operator error. That’ll do for the vultures and your creative writing assignments. And it’s plausible.”
“Gotcha, old man,” Wiggles chuckled, “but why keep it under wraps?”
“No one knew which way I was going. I didn’t even know. We ran into a traffic jam, and I decided to cut through the Halls.” Gumshoe eyed the scene with suspicion. “Right now, I think I can count my friends on one hand. And I don’t want them coming after you, either.”
“We may have a bad mole, though I hate the pun.”
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t be so sure it’s a moleman. The leader is a black dwarf, and so far all of his known followers have been dwarves. I have one goblin suspect, but I think he’s an outlier. Have a mole you can trust check the remains of the cruiser for a tracking device. Nothing in your report should hint that we have other assets.”
“Got it, old man, Jack Jack was just an innocent by-stander. But it’s not hard to guess Jack Clay saved your hide, and I’ll have to play super stupid to cover that up.”
“You’re a better actor than Jack, you old fraud,” Gumshoe winked. “If we can get these dwarves to talk, I want to interrogate them.” He put a hand to his head. “And then I need to get going. I’m getting too old for this.”
“And I’m honored, you think I’m not.”
“What? Oh, I’m just tired Wiggl
es. I’ve already worked a scene today, and this is your turf.”
“And I’m honored to be counted among your friends,” the Constable chuckled. “If you suspected a moleman, I doubt you’d be talking to old Wiggles.”
“Caught in my own trap. And you’re half-right, any friend of mine is in danger. Be careful, Wiggles.”
Wiggles patted Gumshoe’s arm. “Let me see if I can round up a few survivors for you to talk to.”
Hear No Evil
Gumshoe walked back to the cruiser.
The medics roused the stunned dwarves using a spray. Policemen bound the dwarves.
A comely medic worked on a stunned dwarf. She put away a pressure cuff, and a torch rolled out of her tool pouch. She picked up the torch and tested the dwarf’s eyes, and looked down his throat. She switched to a scanner.
Gumshoe wondered what she expected to find.
She scanned him head to toe. Setting down the scanner and reaching into her bag, she pulled out an ointment which she daubed on a scrape on his face. Working quickly, she bandaged the wound. Finished with the bandage, the medic collected her tools and moved to the next dwarf. A policeman helped the dwarf to his feet and led him away.
Jack and Shotgun were both disheveled. Jack’s fashionable costume was torn, dirty, and his coif was out of place.
Shotgun looked little better. His eyes were bloodshot, and his tuxedo torn.
Gumshoe hooked both his thumbs in his holster. “How are you guys doing?”
Shotgun hooked a thumb at Jack, “I’m better Inspector, but the boss can’t hear a thing.”
“Good thing we like him,” said Gumshoe, “or we’d be talking behind his back right now.” They shared a chuckle.
Jack looked back and forth at them both. “What’s the joke?”
Gumshoe just held up his hands in mock surprise.
The comely medic approached them and said, “Gentlemen, I can help you out now. Who’s first?” She was short and petite even for a mole woman. Her body armor dwarfed her and the straps on her breast plate dangled to her waist.
“Who’s first?” she repeated.
“Him,” Gumshoe pointed at Jack. “He can’t hear a thing. Can you give him something?”
She pulled a torch from her pouch and attached a cone.
“Maybe, let me check his ears.” Letting her examine his ears, Clay docilely complied as she pulled his head until she had a good view of his ear. Pulling his ear, she inserted the torch in his ear canal. She twisted his head and repeated the procedure on his other ear.
Standing in front of him, she asked, “Can you hear anything yet, Mr. Clay?”
Jack shrugged, and shouted, “What did you say?”
“Looks normal,” the medic spoke to the others. “His eardrums haven’t burst. I’ve got just the thing. We use it on kids who’ve lost their hearing at concerts. Works wonders.” Kneeling next to one of her cases, she unlatched the clasps and opened it up. Rummaging through the trays of pills, vials, bandages, and other medical paraphernalia, she selected a tiny canister. She snapped a plastic cone on top and stood up.
Taking his jaw, she gently twisted Jack’s head to one side, and shouted, “Hold still, and stay that way until I tell you, you can move.” She plunged the plastic cone in his ear, and pressed on a clip on the canister’s side. With a hiss, the canister discharged medication. Cocking her own head, she grabbed his jaw. “Hold it.”
Turning to the others, both of them pointed at each other.
“Brave guys, but who needs me?” she asked.
“Shotgun let her take a look at you.” Acceding to the request, Shotgun submitted to another brief examination.
“Does it hurt anywhere?” The medic took his signs and scanned his head for any sign of a concussion.
“Other than a headache, I’m fine.”
“You are fine,” the medic agreed. “Here’s a painkiller and some water.” She handed him a bottle of water, and a packet of pills.
“No sense in not checking,” said Gumshoe.
“Absolutely,” said the medic, and turned to Jack. “Now, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” he said, “But I can hear ringing, and you sound like you’re coming in through a tin can. It’s better than it was.”
“Good, let’s do the other side, and then you can go.” Taking his jaw again, the medic twisted his head and repeated the procedure with the mist canister.
“Thanks miss. We’re planning to do roadshows in Iron Mountain, and I’d like you to be my guest.”
“Thank you Mr. Clay. My boyfriend and I saw your show a few weeks ago. I really like the Rockhounds. Bingo is great!”
“Great!”
She turned away, and checked the Inspector.
Jack smiled, thinking of the good times. Girls loved the Rockhounds, and each had his own fan club. Originally, he had auditioned several friends who were studio musicians. He hired Nick, Ralph, Animal, and a guy named Tom. After their first season, Tom had left for greener pastures.
Meanwhile a vaudevillian minstrel named Bingo had created a fan video parodying the Rockhounds. No one had given him any thought until Mercury News featured his one man band parody on a Saturday morning after Tom left.
The fans took it as a sign, and he felt the pressure. After the news spot, Jack was inundated with questions. The band auditioned him, first in the studio, and then at a pub. Jack feared he would be a creep, or a nut, or a prima donna. Well, worse than most musicians anyway. He took a chance and hired Bingo.
Bingo had lived up to his name from the start. Funny, charming, always happy to ham it up, and a working musical machine in the studio, He made himself part of the show. Jack had to admit, Bingo was a great team player on the Clay-Player team.
“You’re fine Inspector,” said the medic, “You must live a charmed life. It’s incredible you survived that cannon blast.” She pointed to the cruiser.
“Yes it is.”
She knelt beside her cases, and repacked her gear. “Mr. Clay can you hear me?”
“Yes ma’am, good as new. Amazing drug you used.”
“Well, we do live in the fourth century you know. Do me a favor and see an audiologist as soon as you can. I’m not an audiologist, got it?”
“Of course, and come see our roadshow in Iron Mountain.”
She threw her backpack over her shoulder, struggled under its weight, and rearranged the straps to achieve a balance. Kneeling slightly she picked up her cases and her scanner.
“We’ll do that Mr. Clay. Good luck, gentlemen. Hope you catch your killer before he catches you.” Not looking back, she strode off.
The Prodigal Son Returns
The medic passed Constable Wiggles. As she turned around the airship, a news cameraman and a reporter veered out of her way.
Clay recognized the reporter, “Chesterton’s here.” They had met, and he liked the old eccentric. But an interview was not what he wanted right now.
“Yeah, I see him,” said Gumshoe. “If Wiggles can’t get rid of him, I’ll give it a try. If he gets to us Jack keep a tight lip. Don’t say anything about magic, whatever you do.”
“My lips are zipped.” Jack zipped his lip. “So what’s our story?”
“The cannon malfunctioned while we ran for cover. I’ll explain later.”
Wiggles argued with the reporter. He raised his arm and waved for the newsmen to leave. Stubbornly acceding to their requests, the newsmen retreated. After dispatching the newsmen, the Constable patted his hands.
“Pests,” said Wiggles. “I told them no comment right now. If I don’t say anything soon enough, they’ll make it up. But if I have to correct it later, they’ll assume I’m covering it up and invent a conspiracy theory.”
“Not much we can do about the airship though,” said Gumshoe. “They know this is big, and we can’t hide it.”
“Yeah, and I’m afraid they caught a look at that cannon,” said Wiggles. “That’ll raise an alarm
.”
“What’s the status report?”
“We found the truck driver. The hooligans beat him badly, and we’ve taken him to Moab Charity.
“A gang blocked the road. When he slowed down, they surrounded the truck. He tried to drive through them without running any of them over, and they jumped on the truck. They busted his windows with bats and dragged him out of the cab. The next thing he remembers is seeing the medic. He’s lucky to be alive.
“York has already picked up some of the hoodlums. A few were shot by your cruiser’s defense system. We caught the rest on the security cameras. But they aren’t talking yet. We’ll keep them on ice until we find out who recruited them, and who the leader was.
“In all, we’ve got fourteen dwarves. Nine survived, and five dead counting the gunner. One took a bolt, but he’s hanging on somehow. We sent him to Moab Charity too. The medics said it didn’t look good for him. The others are physically fit, but York says they don’t remember anything. Want to go see them?”
“After you,” said Gumshoe.
Wiggles led them through the barricade. Police vans stood parked beyond the overturned truck. Molemen guarded the vans, and the doors stood open with folding steps lowered to the asphalt. They followed the Constable around the end of the tunnel drill, and walked up the steps of a Moab police van.
Inside, dwarves sat shackled to prisoner’s chairs near the front of the van’s hold. The Constable winked at Gumshoe and waddled through the tight van to the prisoner’s chairs. “Anybody want to change his story?” The dwarves gave them a bewildered expression.
One dwarf said, “Officer, what’s going on here? Why are we here?”
Jack recognized the dwarf who had tried to shoot him.
“Well, if you’re willing to talk, let’s talk,” said Wiggles. He held up a finger. “Don’t say it, Gumshoe, I’ll get us some privacy.”
He waddled to the back of the van, leaned out, and spoke to one of the uniformed officers. A policeman entered the van, and squeezed past Wiggles. He left the red dwarf, but he released the other prisoners, and led them out of the van.
Shotgun came to a decision. “Inspector, I’d better retrieve my satchel from the cruiser, if I can.”
“Yeah, the cruiser is toast. We’re at Wiggle’s mercy to get home tonight.”
Shotgun sidled past the Constable, and jogged away.
Wiggles returned to the prisoner’s seats opposite the red dwarf. Taking off his jacket, he threw it over a chair, and leaned on the chair holding the dwarf. “What’s your name, son?”
“Billy Long, I’m a corrosion technician for the Ministry of Manna. I’m on contract with Adaptable Dwarf Partners.”
“Billy, I’m Constable Wiggles, and I’m only going to tell you this once. Whatever you tell me had better be the truth. We have probes and scanners and I will find out if you’re lying. Do you understand?”
Rolling his head, the red dwarf nodded and his chin dropped to his chest.
“Can you answer me verbally Billy?”
“Yes sir, I understand.”
“Who are you working for now Billy?”
“Constable, I’m sorry, but I work for Adaptable Dwarf Partners. I don’t know why I’m here. I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”
“Billy, do you want to try me again?” Pushing himself off Billy’s chair, Wiggles turned around, and glanced at Gumshoe.
“Sir, I told you, I work for Adaptable Dwarf Partners. I’m a corrosion technician. I work at Rickover Station.”
Quietly, Shotgun reentered the van with his backpack. Sitting in an officer’s chair, he took out his tablet. Gumshoe caught Shotgun’s eye, and put a finger up to his lips.
“No, Billy,” said Wiggles. He pointed to the dwarf’s torn uniform, “You’re lying. Today in Moab, you and your friends ambushed an officer of Nodlon Yard and two police consultants. Five of your friends died, and one is hanging on with his life. Even though the dwarves you killed are your own partners in crime, it’s still murder. You’re looking at living the rest of your life on the Moon. Now, do you want to try me again?”
Tears ran down the dwarf’s cheeks, and he began sobbing. “I’ve never hurt anyone,” he blurted.
“You and your friends tried murdering friends of mine with lightning guns. If you hadn’t been so incompetent, you might have succeeded.”
Rocking back and forth, the dwarf cried, “I don’t know what’s happening!”
“Billy, Billy, Billy,” said Wiggles. “You’re wearing a uniform. You ran away, and joined a paramilitary terrorist group.”
The blood drained from Billy’s face and his eyes reddened. “I’ve never done anything wrong in my whole life. How can I? How can I run away? I’ve got a microchip in my forehead!” He sniffled.
“Stinkin’ little coward! You’re gonna bawl? Man up, little baby and tell me what’s goin’ on!”
The dwarf swayed in his chair and openly wept. “Why are you doing this?” The dwarf choked between sobs.
Wiggles winked at Gumshoe. Edging forward, Gumshoe put a hand on Wiggles shoulder.
“Why don’t you take a break Constable?”
Wiggles scowled and turned away. “Yeah, thanks, I might forget myself.” Turning his back on the prisoner, Wiggles retreated.
Wiggles patted Jack’s shoulder.
Stopping opposite Shotgun, Wiggles carefully managed to fit his girth into one of the empty chairs. Shotgun stared at the dwarf. He sat frozen with a creased brow, and taut lips. Wiggles looked at him, but the dwarf avoided his gaze. Wiggles caught Shotgun’s attention and gave him a wink.
Taking over the interrogation, Gumshoe took off his fedora and laid it on an empty chair. He parted his trench coat, and stuck his thumbs in his holster straps.
“Get a hold of yourself, son,” said Gumshoe. “My friend Constable Wiggles is pretty upset. I would be too if I had to fill out a homicide report for five hooligans who off’d themselves on my beat. You can understand that can’t you?” Gumshoe let the dwarf compose himself.
The dwarf nodded, and muttered, “Yeah.”
“Now, I want you to meet someone,” Gumshoe waved at Jack. “This is Jack Clay. Do you recognize him?”
Looking up, the dwarf’s red spot and bloodshot eyes gave him a ferocious stare. Tears streamed down his face, and his lips quivered, “Yeah, sir, I know you. You’re Cretaceous Clay, the magician. I, I, I saw your show once awhile back. Good fun.” He stammered, and swallowed. “I mean what, what are you doing here? Is this for fun or something?”
Jack glanced at Gumshoe. The Inspector signaled for him to go ahead. “No, Billy. I’m working for Inspector Lestrayed as a consultant. We’re trying to find missing dwarves. And you were one of those missing dwarves.”
“No way, sir, I am not missing. I was at work yesterday, and I’ve got a pass for today.” He looked at them defiantly, “I’m telling you I have a pass.”
“Not many minutes ago, you tried to kill me with a lightning gun? Do you remember that?”
Moaning, the distraught dwarf twisted on the chair, but his hands were bound. “No way, sir please, I haven’t seen you since that show years ago.”
“Do you remember when I shot you? I stunned you with a lightning gun. Do you remember that Billy?”
Vigorously, he shook his head and moaned. “No.”
“What’s the last thing you do remember?”
Tears welled in his eyes, and the dwarf looked at each of them. “I, I, I had an, an appointment with a doctor,” he stammered. “I just wanted to be handsome. I wanted a chick to dig me.”
A thought struck Jack, and he asked, “Billy, what day is today?”
“Tuesday.”
He glanced at Gumshoe. “The full date son, what is today’s date?”
“February twelfth.”
“No,” said Jack, “it’s March twenty-first. How can you make an error like that? Would tampering with your chip cause you to be co
nfused?”
“No way, I’m telling you sir. I’d never tamper with my chip. It’s got to come out right, or you can lose your mind.” The dwarf cried and bounced a little twisting in his bracelets.
“Inspector?” said Shotgun.
Wiggles patted Shotgun’s knee and held a finger to his lips.
“Quiet, Shotgun,” said Gumshoe. “Look him up, but keep it mum ‘till I ask.”
The Inspector bent over and looked Billy in the eye. “Billy, do you remember the doctor’s name, or the name of the clinic?”
The dwarf rolled his head, and pursed his lips. “I remember a pretty girl. A goblin, she was gray and tall and mysterious like they all are, and shaped just right. I think her name was Sally. I had to go a long way. It was on the other side of the city, near the Pale. I’ve never been that far. New you, new blue, new something, I think? It’s all fuzzy.”
“Wiggles would you hand me a towel, and some water, I think we’re done for the moment.” Gumshoe stood up, and released one of Billy’s hands.
The Constable reached into an overhead bin and pulled out a small box of facial tissue and tossed it to the Inspector. From another bin, he took a bottle of water and a straw and passed those to Jack who handed them to Gumshoe.
“Thank you, Billy,” said Gumshoe. “If you’ve told me the truth, everything will be as right as rain before you know it.”
Carefully, the Inspector wiped the young man’s face. He opened the water bottle, dropped in the straw, and set it in a cup holder on the dwarf’s chair.
Waving, Gumshoe drew Jack and Wiggles into a huddle. Working feverishly on his tablet Shotgun was not paying attention. “You too, Shotgun,” said Gumshoe. The dwarf stowed his tablet and joined the detective, the constable, and the magician.
“What are you thinking old boy?” Wiggles asked.
“We have reason to believe a gene therapy outfit called New Gem is involved,” said Gumshoe. “You may have seen it in my reports.”
“Yes, I did, but that’s about all,” said Wiggles. “You had to go and start a riot just as I sat down to read it.”
“We were thinking New Gem might be a recruiting station. Yesterday, we tried penetrating the clinic, and they slipped Shotgun a mickey. Today, we’re ambushed by dwarves, and one of them thinks he’s lost a month. If the clinic uses mind-altering drugs to control their patients, maybe the drugs altered their memories.”
“Maybe he’s faking,” said Wiggles.
“Either he’s telling the truth or that’s the worst acting job I’ve ever seen,” said Gumshoe. “He seems to believe his story.”
“I’ll give you that, old boy,” Wiggles nodded.
“Shotgun,” said Gumshoe, “what do you have for us?”
“Clean record, same story as the others. We know Billy went missing in February. He was last seen at his dorm on the eleventh. It’s not far from the Octagon, by the way. He had a medical pass for the twelfth, but he failed to show up on the thirteenth, and he was reported the next day.” Shotgun glanced at Gumshoe, then Wiggles, and then Jack.
“Go ahead Shotgun, Wiggles is in this up to his eyeballs. If they’re trying to kill us, he should know. Just stick to your analysis.”
“Billy Long is a New Gem client. He had an appointment on the twelfth. It was his second treatment. His file is clean and unremarkable except for one handwritten comment, which reads, ‘Selected.’ That’s it. That’s all I’ve got, but I’ve got a gut feeling he’s telling the truth.”
“If he’s telling the truth,” Wiggles asked, “how is it possible?” The Constable looked worried. “How can they mess with the minds of dwarves and turn harmless, peaceful dwarves into murderers? And how can we stop them from using it on elves, goblins and molemen?”
“Drugs,” said Jack. “They drugged Shotgun. Maybe they have other more potent pharmaceuticals.”
“What drug lasts a month?” The Inspector shook his head. “And what drug wears off when you’re stunned? Give me something Jack. You’re the occult specialist.”
“I am,” said Jack. “Zombie legends tell of drugs overcoming the will. Cruel voodoo witch doctors chose a victim and drugged him. The drugs left the victim paralyzed in a death-like trance. After the family brought the victim to the witch doctor for a cure, he pronounced the victim dead. The family buried the victim.
“Later when the coast was clear, the witch doctor’s henchmen dug up the grave and took the victim back to the witch doctor. He gave the victim an antidote for the paralysis but the drug or drugs kept the victim in a zombie-like state. The witch doctor then abused the hapless zombie, or sold him into slavery.
“Most authorities consider zombie legends to be a myth, and I’m inclined to agree. We do live in the fourth century. Maybe they have new psychotropic meds.”
“Call it a hunch,” said Gumshoe, “but I don’t think Billy’s faking. Regardless, we need these dwarves kept on ice. If New Gem used mind control technology on them, they may still be susceptible. They may be able to switch it on and off at will.”
“Yeah,” said Wiggles. “We need to keep the dwarves under wraps for our safety and theirs until we know what’s going on. They’re expendables. This Black Dwarf you talk about may want to eliminate his henchmen to prevent leaks.”
“We can verify Billy’s story later. With his chip wired up to a probe, he won’t be faking anything, and we can clear him if he’s on the up and up.”
“If New Gem drugged him, or used some other technology,” said Shotgun, “he’s a victim of foul play. How can you keep him locked up?”
“Right you are Shotgun,” said Wiggles. “But we can’t be sure and until we are I’ll make sure the dwarves are treated well. If the fiends messed with their minds, I don’t want it said we were inhospitable to crime victims in Moab. We still have to take precautions. Even if he’s telling the truth, we don’t know what damage has been done to his mind.”
“Wiggles, can you send us the names of the dwarves you’ve arrested here today? Shotgun can run those and tell us if they match. I think they will.”
“Don’t want to wait for my report, hey?”
“By then, we’ll all be in Iron Mountain, if the case is solved or not.”
“Am I being insulted, old boy?” Wiggles grinned.
“Yes,” said Gumshoe. He patted the portly officer on the shoulder. “And we need a ride out of here. If I don’t get back soon, and call the missus, she’ll be beside herself.”
“I’ll have one of York’s men give you a lift.”