~~~~~~
The moleman parked his cruiser in the loading zone in front of Nodlon Yard. “Here you are sir. Will you need me to wait?”
Gumshoe climbed out of the cruiser. “No thank you. Have a safe trip home. Avoid the level-ways, and watch out for anyone tailing you. Good night.”
“Good night, sir.”
Goodbyes
Jack and Shotgun sailed over the traffic jam in the streets below. Semi-trailer tractors, cargo vans, and ground cars crawled. Near pandemonium reigned below them. Tempers flared, horns honked, and panicky drivers shook their fists.
Flying in the low altitude lanes, they bypassed the angry drivers, but not the traffic. Wealthy citizens jammed the flying lanes. Flyers, orbiters, recreational spacecraft joined an odd assortment of rentals headed towards the northwest corridor. Despite the traffic, the sky above was empty. Only a few fighters flew high above the city. He steered the Andromeda for Babel Tower and pushed the hot little flyer as fast as he dared.
“What a day,” Shotgun ignored the view. “I’m looking forward to dinner.”
“What do we have?” asked Jack.
Shotgun closed his eyes and leaned back in the leather seat. Upper Nodlon flashed by below.
“Snuffies’ ribs and salads. I always pick up some backup meals if I can’t cook or if I’m tired. Will that work?”
“No, actually I expect a seven course French dinner with home-made flan.” Clay licked his chops.
Shotgun opened an eyelid and peeked at Jack.
“I love ribs,” Jack grinned, “Yum, yum.”
Twilight fell on the mountainside. Jack guided the flyer home. Nodlon’s blue streetlights quilted the city. The log homes and futuristic dwellings of Nodlon’s well-to-do sat in the shadow of the mountains. Lights burned from only a few windows in Babel Tower. Jack was glad to be home.
They rode the lift up to Jack’s floor. His door was wide open.
Faith and Hope giggled. An animated dog chased a cat on his vid. Shotgun’s daughters laughed. The cat escaped through a hole in a fence, and the dog slammed into the fence boards leaving an impression.
Jasmine and Goldie sat at the dining room table in front of a stack of plates and a pile of flatware. A small path wove across his foyer through suitcases, bags, boxes, coats, backpacks and Jack’s computer case.
“There you are!” called Jazz.
The girls squealed, “Daddy!” The children jumped up, the cartoon forgotten, and bounded through the packing.
“Hi, guys!” Shotgun said.
The girls darted passed Jack. Each tackled one of Shotgun’s legs. Shotgun laid his satchel down, and patted their heads with his free hand. He knelt, and picked up the little girls.
“Hello, everybody,” Jack asked. “Shouldn’t you all be on your way?”
“We’ve been worried sick about you,” said Goldie. “You’ve been on the news all day. Jazz got home late this morning, and we planned to leave when we finished packing. We saw you on the Mercury News, and they said were in Moab. And then, they said you were ambushed in the Halls.” The dwarf girl looked at the elf girl for support.
“Goldie’s right,” said Jazz, assuming a schoolmarm’s air. “We watched Mercury News for an hour after the ambush, not knowing if you were still alive! And you never called! We’re worried sick, and you didn’t call. When they finally ran footage of you alive, you’re flirting with a mole woman.”
Jack searched his track lights for an answer to the mystery of women. Her tenor was not quite shrill, but Clay knew he had blown it.
“Jazz, please, I’m sorry. We both thought you guys had left for Iron Mountain. And I wasn’t talking to a mole woman. I was talking to a medic. I lost my hearing when the lightning cannon went off, and she treated me.”
“I thought I lost you,” Jazz choked, “you idiot.” She grabbed him in a bear hug.
He put his arms around her and squeezed her gently.
“They said a dozen dwarves died,” said Jazz. “We were hysterical, and you didn’t answer your caster. Goldie cried and cried.”
“Mercury News showed dwarves lying on the ground,” said Goldie. “Chesterton said the police blockaded the area, and they didn’t know if anyone had survived.”
“We were ambushed,” said Jack, stroking Jasmine’s hair. “And I’m glad they kept the press out. We didn’t have time for foolish questions. They had to secure the area first anyway, and arrest the hoodlums, and figure out what happened before letting the press in.”
“Jack Clay,” said Jasmine. “Tell us what really happened?”
“Boss, you’d better tell her. I’d like to know too. I was in the cruiser when the cannon hit us. Another shot and I’d be dead. I know Gumshoe wanted you to keep it a secret, but I don’t see why. It’s obvious you saved us.” Shotgun hugged Goldie and his daughters.
“Looks like I’m outvoted, I’ll tell you what happened if someone will feed me. And can we shut the door? It’s supposed to be a secret. I don’t want to share it with the neighbors. If Mable overhears it, the whole tower will know.”
Soon, the table was set with barbecued pork ribs dripping with a hickory and molasses sauce, potato salad, coleslaw, and baked beans. Goldie baked a small pizza for the girls, and they munched on the toasted cheese with gusto. She made sweet tea and served it in tall glasses with ice, a lemon slice and little parasols with Japanese cherry blossoms.
A pile of paper napkins rose in the center of the table as Snuffie’s ribs disappeared. Clay worked through a pile of ribs smacking his lips and licking his fingers. He sipped his tea, and wistfully longed for an end to the tension and fear of war.
He wished for many more evenings like this one. Why do bad things happen, he wondered? He wanted to go back to his normal routine of shows and rehearsals.
Goldie put the girls to bed. If not for the packed clothes and supplies, it was just a slumber party.
“The girls are in bed,” said Goldie. She scooted her chair up next to Shotgun and took his arm. She gazed at Jasmine, and Jasmine poked at Jack.
“When are you leaving?” asked Jack. “The longer you stay, the more likely a Martian strike will fall on Nodlon. We’re still vulnerable. The shields are not perfect. I’m no expert, but I recall what they taught me.”
“The hospital staff is supposed to be there Saturday. So we’ll leave in the morning. A company of reservists is helping the advance party set up.” Jasmine gulped, and put her head in her hands. “I’m scared, Jack. What happens if Mars destroys Nodlon? What happens if they invade? Half the city is abandoned now, we barely have enough people to maintain the city. If they destroy it, how will we rebuild it?”
Jack set his tea on his table, and spun the parasol. “If they destroy Nodlon, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about rebuilding it.”
Tears welled in Jasmine’s eyes, and Goldie started weeping. Shotgun rolled his eyes, and Clay bit his lip.
“We’re not going to have to rebuild Nodlon though,” he continued, trying to rectify his error and bolster their confidence. “Our Navy is the most powerful in the solar system. Even if Mars lands a lucky blow, the Navy will annihilate the Martian’s war machine and hang that dictator, Nogora. The whole reason for this mess is the Baron’s incompetence. He vacillates hot and cold, and they sense weakness.”
“Mr. Clay,” Goldie asked, “why doesn’t the King just replace him?”
“King Justin’s popular, but he’s a figurehead. As the President of the House of Lords, and a Member of Parliament representing the palace’s district he has some power. As King though, he just shows up at events and looks handsome. He’s the grandson of Colonel Justin; the same Colonel who led Nodlon to victory during the Aftershock War a hundred years ago. His grandfather defeated the House of Ur and their allies and ended the Regressive Wars.”
“How do you know everything, Mr. Clay?”
“I don’t know everything Goldie. It just seems that way because I read
books. Tollmerak teaches us biots only the bare minimum. And half of it is false and the other half is wrong. My mother insisted I read to broaden my education, and I discovered I enjoyed it. If you want to know how Nodlon works, you have to learn it yourself.”
Jasmine regained her composure, and rested her head on his shoulder. “Honey bear, what happened? And don’t try fibbing. We saw the barricade, the burned airship, and the lightning cannon on Mercury News. It’s a miracle you’re alive.”
“Don’t let the news frighten you,” said Jack. “Chesterton exaggerates. They all do. They make half of it up.” Jack put his fingertips together.
“There’s not much to tell that you don’t know. Hooligans put up a barricade to stop us, and the riot started when we showed up. Before we could escape, a black airship blocked our exit. Dwarves poured out of it firing lightning guns.”
“Were they waiting for you?”
“Yes, and they were prepared to take out a cruiser. The dwarves brought a cannon to put our cruiser’s shields out of commission. Lucky for us, we survived the first shot and they didn’t bring any spare capacitors. They had to wait for the cannon to cool to take a second shot. That’s what saved our lives. I threw up a magical shield around each of us. Then I blasted the cannon with a lightning bolt.”
“Can you do that, Mr. Clay?” Goldie asked.
“Yes, but my spell magic doesn’t have a stun setting yet. My bolts are deadly. I have to figure that one out.
“How did you figure it out at all?” asked Jazz.
“Don’t know, it just came to me. I concentrate, I feel a ‘ping’ in my head, and then I know how.”
They looked at him with bewildered expressions and he shrugged.
“After I destroyed the cannon, we just mopped up. Gumshoe stunned most of them with his pistol. I took a lightning gun from one of the fallen dwarves and used it to help stun the rest. I’m not used to using magic as a weapon.”
“But the news said the dwarves died,” said Goldie.
“Friendly fire, Goldie. The dwarves shot each other. The dwarves barely understood shooting with energy weapons. Lightning bolts ricocheted off of our shields and hit their mates. All of the casualties were friendly fire except one.”
“Except one?” asked Jazz.
“I’d rather not say, sweet pea.” Jack frowned. His audience went silent for a moment and he sighed in relief.
“I like Gumshoe,” said Jasmine. “But even I know an old man with a pistol can’t defeat a dozen dwarves armed with lightning guns and a cannon. If he thinks anyone will believe a cockamamie story like that, he’s gotta be losing his marbles.”
“Gumshoe didn’t explain, but he wants me to keep it under my hat,” Jack looked at the little group. “So let’s keep it to ourselves until we get clearance from him. Understood?”
Everyone at the table fell silent.
“I would have been killed if they had fired that cannon again.” Shotgun took Goldie’s hand and hugged her. “I owe you my life, boss. Thank you doesn’t even cut it.”
“Don’t take it as an obligation, Shotgun. I just did what I had to do and I’m glad I had the magic to do it. I’m just glad Faith and Hope still have a father.”
“Yeah, well I won’t forget it boss.”
After bussing the table and cleaning the kitchen, they all made ready for bed. Jack and Shotgun slept in his living room again. Shotgun collapsed on the love seat. He stretched out over the couch in his pajamas with his logo embroidered on the front, and his feet dangled over his coffee table.
Jazz and Goldie are going in the morning. Then they’ll be safe. Exhaustion overcame discomfort, and he fell asleep.
If You Want It Done Right
“Yes, my lord,” said Sargon. “Sumuqan led the attack. The black dwarves ambushed the detective, the magician, and his companion.” As expected our lightning cannon destroyed the policeman’s cruiser. Unexpectedly, the magician used a spell to ward off the bolts of our lightning guns, and he summoned a lightning strike to destroy our cannon.”
“A magic spell?” glowered the Black Dwarf. “Or a new toy?”
“Sumuqan saw the magician’s Kirlian aura, my lord. He burned with the inner fire of one who has seen the light. Somehow he taps the true power without an intercessor or device. May I speculate my lord?”
“Speculate away Sargon, though I know your thought.”
“He commands supernatural power across the differential, and he travels with a black dwarf. Maybe he’s Phaedra’s child? Maybe he’s the missing champion?”
“The missing champion he may be. An elf of thirty years whose life force taps the inner fire without an intercessor or device fits. The dwarf is of no account. He is merely a servant. The Dragon’s spies poison his hopes and play in his dreams.”
The Black Dwarf twiddled his toes, and sighed. He waved away the Amazon working on his nails. “The elf must be Phaedra’s son to be so fortunate. Alert Helter and Skelter, Sargon, and ready my airship.” The Black Dwarf scowled. “I shall deal with this elf myself.”
Phaedra’s Son
Heavy metal riffs shattered the quiet. Startled, Jack sucked in a deep breath. He wheezed. His hands were clammy and his forehead was wet. His pulse pounded in his ears. He crossed his arms and hugged himself. He tried to forget the nightmares. He really needed to change his caster ring. He threw off his blankets, and searched his nightstand for the caster.
“Yeah, buddy,” he muttered. “But if I switch you to Fur Elise, you’ll just wind up missing my calls.”
“Clay here,” he croaked.
“Jack, are you up?” said the Inspector without a hint of irony.
“Yeah, I am now. We were up late with Jazz and Goldie packing. They left early this morning in Jazz’s roadster.”
“Oh, sorry,” said Gumshoe, with even less sincerity. “Can you be ready in a quarter?”
“No problem, where are we headed?”
“Meet me on the River Walk, at the Low-town Park, got that?”
“Yeah, Low-town, we’ll be there in a few minutes. “What’s up?”
“A sanitation engineer saw something. Wiggles called, and he wants us to meet York at the park. I think we need to check this out.”