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zzambrosius_02
“Now,” said Voukli, an hour later: “Time to start on Line Shifting. Look down near the floor in front of you.”
He did it: “I can see a small holotank, and...” he blinked: “It’s active.”
“Good. Think about Europe, in a Quiet USIT Line...”
“Okay. Whoa!”
“Now choose USIT twenty-three, and lock that in.”
“Got it!”
“Right, now fly forward, slowly at first. As you accelerate, will the Shift.”
The Gate that opened was no bigger than the forward profile of the aircraft, and he actually felt it close behind him, as the machine passed through.
“Okay, that’s creepy,” he said.
“Yes it is,” she said: “And the ATLs do not have this technology, so they have to manufacture—or steal—aircraft in every Line they control.”
Ambros very deliberately did not nod, but he said: “Because it’s very hard to get a fighter plane through a Gate. Even the geologically-based Gates, the original ones, they are almost never large enough to take anything wider than a tank.”
“Yes. So the Commonwealth Coalition has air superiority, almost always. So let’s Shift back and forth a few times, till you master the skill...”
Six hours later, Ambros leaned this way and that, tipped his head, blinked at icons, and whooped in exhilaration.
Voukli cried out in the same way, as he swooped the machine around in the air above Europe. A very Quiet Europe.
“Whooo!” she said: “Okay, it’s becoming second nature to you. That’s good! Hover it for a bit.”
He obeyed. He felt a little dizzy anyway.
She said: “Look to your controls. There’s a green icon of an APS at top center. Blink it on.”
He did, and found a set of “universal” cross-hairs on his windscreen.
“The fuck?”
“Pick a target,” she said.
He slowly turned the aircraft until it pointed down at an angle. The ruins of a high-rise apartment building stood there, the cross-hairs centered on it. He saw what he needed to do before Voukli could instruct him: he extended a double-sized APS ‘blade’ from the nose of the ship, and by turning his head side to side he cut the ruin in two. The upper half slowly slid sideways down the slight angle his cut made, and crashed to the ground. The lower half of the building shuddered and collapsed. A cloud of dust obscured the scene. The rumbling made the aircraft shudder.
His eyes widened: “No wonder the ATL planes never get a kill on these things.”
“No wonder,” Voukli agreed: “To the left of the APS icon there’s a control for beam weapons that are mounted under the wings. To the right, controls for a...you’d say a .58 caliber slug thrower that points backwards. In case...”
“...in case somebody gets behind us. Right.”
“Okay,” she said: “Let’s visit low-earth orbit!”
“Ummm...is there an icon to seal this thing up?”
“It’s all automatic, Spathos. Just fly!”
“Right,” he said. “I always wanted to go to space...” He tipped the nose back and leaned forward just a bit.
**********************************************************************************************************************
St Valentine’s Day arrived. Kim’s plans had been falling into place for the last week, and her invitees had each accepted.
Ambros stood at the door to the back patio at the country house used by Estelli’s Line, the extended family that had brought Magistri Arrenji Athenini into the world. ‘Her among many other truly amazing people,’ he mused: ‘Though I doubt that even that family has produced many like her.’
‘It’s my position as her student that gets me access to this place, on an occasional basis.’ He grinned to himself: ‘”Gormenghast-ian” is the only adjective that really applies to the building.’
He watched the road from Athens, waiting for the bus from that City.
At length it appeared, bouncing a little over the hilltop. He strolled down to the road and waved.
The bus eased to a stop and the door opened. Randy stepped out, looking a bit stunned.
“How ya doin’, man?” Ambros took his young friend’s arm, guiding him away from the machine. Its door closed and it whined in a high-pitched way as it powered up again. The driver guided it into the mountains, headed for Parnassus and points north.
Randy shook his head: “Sir? This place?”
Ambros raised his eyebrows and said: “What about it?”
“It’s...incredible.”
“Tell me about it.” Ambros led the way up the rocky pathway to the back patio: “I assume you mean the Timeline, and the City of Athino, not the house.”
Randy looked around as they approached the back door: “Well, the house is kinda out there, too, but I meant...”
Ambros filled the pause: “I get you. At least you had a little warning. How’d it go?” He led Randy through the gigantic kitchen and down a hall to a small sitting room. “Let’s wait here.”
“How’d it go? Well...So I was beating on the heavy bag with a shinai, just, you know, thinking about the way you’ve been trying to teach me to relax and all...And Kim comes dancing into the Salon, and blithely asks me if I’d be willing to come to an orgy, y’know? I was kinda...surprised? Shocked?”
“But you said ‘Yes’?”
“Oh hell yeah, Sir. She’s hot, right?
Ambros smiled wryly: “I had noticed.”
Randy blushed a little: “But I did wonder if you knew about it, I mean I know she’s...”
Ambros sighed. Using the American handsign for the quotes he said: “Not ‘mine’, Randy, if that’s where you’re heading.”
“Well yeah, sorta.” Randy paused. Then he said: “I mean, I read those articles you sent me about the whole ‘polyamory’ thing. I guess I sorta get it. You and Kim and the other ladies, I mean, that’s obvious...but why me?”
Ambros just stared, an ever-so-subtle trace of a crooked smile on his face, until Randy saw it.
“Oh. Oh boy. Umm.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Ambros reassured him: “And you don’t have all the information you need to say no or yes just yet. Here’s one thing: Kim also invited a guy you don’t know: you have to decide if you trust her and then you need to meet Jimmy, and then we will all get together for a snack and a drink, and then you’ll decide yes or no. Or ‘Not now’ or ‘Maybe later’...”
“Well. I really like Kim. I trust her, and you. But there’s one thing?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I’m seventeen...but I’m an Emancipated Minor, so...I asked your lawyer...Mr Castle says this is a gray area in the law...”
“He would, and it is.” Ambros nodded, smiling reassuringly: “Do you feel too young to consent?”
“Oh, no, not at all.”
“Well, good. Because we are a long way out of the jurisdiction of any Line Seventeen police department. Right?”
“Oh. That’s why we’re doing this...this orgy here? In this other Timeline?” Randy had become convinced of the existence of other Lines much the way Ambros had, by visiting them.
“Correct in one guess.” Ambros did not say that there was no such thing as an “age of consent” in the Commonwealth, nor that a person who attained the age of twelve was considered a provisional adult: ‘Let him pick that info up as he goes along...’
Randy grinned nervously: “Okay I trust Kim, and I trust you. Sir.”
“Okay, that’s good to know. And ‘Sir’ is really way too formal for an orgy. Well, this kind of orgy anyway.”
They laughed, Randy still a little nervous.
“So, you stay here, please,” said Ambros: “and I’ll fetch Jimmy. It’ll be only a minute or two.”
“Right...”
Ambros went out, and down the hall a few doors, and leaned into another room: “Hey vato. C’mon, he’s ready.”
Jimmy slouched into the hallway, limping a bit.
“Hurt yourself?” Ambros spoke lightly.
“No,” Jimmy replied, then grinned, somewhat abashed: “That Magistri Anni can move like a demon when she gets irritated.”
“Yes, she can.” Ambros wondered what Jimmy had done to irritate the unflappable Anni. He put that out of mind.
He tapped at the door and waited. Randy said: “Yeah?’
He led Jimmy into the room. Randy appeared to be embarrassed and little flushed. Ambros said only: “Randy, Jimmy, Jimmy, Randy.” The two shook hands.
At a gesture from Ambros they all sat down in big comfy chairs around a low table.
“I met Jimmy in Guatemala a while back. He’s formerly a member of an anarcho-syndicalist affinity group in Guatemala City that got into a disagreement with the Mob.” Ambros smiled: “Jimmy Asuajay is his name now. Jimmy, I met Randy for the first time when I visited the Oregon Country Fair last summer. He studies swordplay with me.”
Ambros drew each man out, getting them to talk about their lives and opinions. It took a while; they were each a little shy of the other, and spoke more comfortably to Ambros than to each other.
‘Yes, of course,’ he thought: ‘But if they both join in tonight, they’ll know each other rather better...even intimately, one might say. At least it’s not a case of “hate at first sight”. That would have been awkward.’
Then his MPS pinged him. He grinned at the two younger men and said: “Time to mingle, if you’re both still in.”
“I am.” “You bet!” Randy spoke more enthusiastically than Jimmy.
Ambros led the way down the long hallway, past the room where Jimmy had waited. The hallway opened into a large room, a combination library and sitting room. The far wall had a distinct curve to it. A staircase clung to that wall, creating an inward arc to the stairs. An ornate, rococo-style balustrade guarded the outer edge.
Ambros led the way across the room and up. At the top of that flight they found a wide landing; they faced a huge window, with a medieval style ogee and stained glass panels in various colors.
Ambros U-turned there and led them up a long straight staircase. Halfway up they found another landing, this one narrow. Doors opened to either side, revealing long straight hallways with doors on both sides. The posts and lintels showed raw, roughly finished stone, in places old and worn down by years of touch.
At the top they found a small lobby; the only way forward was by elevator. Ambros gestured at the door and it opened. He ushered his guests within.
The elevator let them out into the great room in the western half of the penthouse. Ambros heard the women’s voices coming from the largest bedroom.
“We’ve arrived,” said Ambros, in a rather loud voice.
After a short wait, the women came out into the great room. By the look of them, Ambros figured they’d been getting a head start. He raised an eyebrow.
Marie swished over to him in a green silk dress that molded to her body and showed her curves to good effect. Commonwealth Medical Guild treatments had solved several of her more painful problems in past few months and—apparently—vastly increased her libido. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss.
Kim strolled over and kissed Jimmy, and then drew Randy in for a kiss, too. Ambros watched Jimmy’s reaction to that, and then looked away
‘I hate to be checking on him all the time, but I need to know how he’s dealing with this.” He shook his head, minimally: ‘He’s not reacting at all, which is good...or at least not bad.’
Each woman made it a point to embrace each man. Jimmy’s eyes opened wider when Marie snuggled up to him. Ambros winked and Jimmy blushed,
Luisa took a tablecloth off the sideboard and they all gathered round for some food and drink.
The sexual tension in the room started out high and rose slowly but steadily.
Finally Kim stood up. She said: “The ground rules. Nobody has to do anything they don’t want to do. No means no. Yes means yes, and don’t say yes unless you mean it. Silence means maybe, but don’t push. If two of us are doing something we both want to do, nobody gets to interrupt, and the same if three of us are involved. All of that said, I promise that no one will go away unsatisfied. My choice.”
She grabbed Jimmy and Randy by their hands and led them into the bedroom. Ambros gestured to Luisa and Marie, and they preceded him. The room was as Ambros recalled it: warm and dim, with hangings of rich dark reds and brocaded blacks and deep greens as if in a glade in the forest far from civilization. All of the light shone gold or yellow and came from hidden sources.
By the time he was in and shutting the door, Kim had stripped out of the lightweight robe she’d worn and begun alternately kissing and undressing Jimmy. Jimmy touched and stroked her, eyes half closed. Marie and Luisa had already begun making out, though neither had disrobed. Randy looked nervous, and uncertain. He glanced around the room.
Ambros smiled at him: “Your first orgy, friend?”
Randy laughed uncertainly: “Ummm...”
Ambros eyebrows went up as high as they’d go: “Your first time ever?”
“Mmm...yeah.”
Kim said: ‘Well, this is obviously not the time to inquire how a handsome and well-built fellow like you can be so inexperienced. Let’s just deal with that problem, shall we?” She moved from now-naked Jimmy and began taking Randy’s clothes off. Randy was obviously nervous but eager. He kept touching her, and then pulling his hands away like she burned him.
She took his hands and placed them on herself: “You can touch...aaahh.”
Ambros unbuckled his belt and set it aside; he stripped off his Warrior-red tunic and toed his way out of his boots.
“Hold it right there, old man,” said Luisa. She stepped to him and began to kiss him. Marie dropped her dress on the floor and walked towards Jimmy:
“Well,” Jimmy said, as she pulled away from their first kiss. She stroked his chest, grabbed his wrists and, hesitantly, raised his hands to her breasts.
“Is this all right?” She opened her eyes wide and tipped her head inquiringly.
“Yes,” said Jimmy, somewhat hesitant himself: “Yes, it is.”
Marie led him to a bed and soon they were deeply engaged in exploring one another. Luisa dragged Ambros to another bed and he allowed her to lead him through the preliminaries.
He heard Kim say: “We need this, you and I.” he heard the wrapper of a condom ripped open.
He heard Randy’s voice: “Oh my god. Oh wow. Oh fuck.”
“That’s right,” said Kim: “Do that, right now. As hard as you want...Oh!”
Luisa stopped what she was doing and the two of them looked over at the chaise lounge. Luisa’s mouth opened a bit and she said: “That’s impressive.”
Privately, Ambros agreed: Randy’s larger-than-average peos, still encased in latex, and still erect after what had clearly been an enormous ejaculation, was indeed fairly impressive.
Luisa went back to kissing Ambros’ peos.
He put everything else out of his mind and concentrated on her.
They changed partners several times. Luisa did nothing more than embrace the other two men, taking only Ambros in; that did nothing to discourage the younger men. When the men’s erections began to flag a bit, Marie ushered them over to the chairs and said: “You boys rest up for a while. We’ll just entertain ourselves for a bit.”
The women then set to each other. Ambros watched with interest; Randy with the fascination that any neophyte would bring to such an experience; and Jimmy with apparent discomfort.
Ambos laughed, in friendly way: “The woman on woman thing bugging you, Jimmy? Be honest!”
“Yeah. I guess I didn’t...”
“I warned you not to make assumptions.”
“Yeah...”
Randy, it was clear, had a different reaction. He seemed ready to go again, in spite of his earlier labors.
Ambros commented on that. Randy blushed again. Jimmy laughed, nervously.
Ambros reflected on the complex interaction between the three of them: ‘Randy’s young, and ready to go almost as soon as he’s done. Jimmy is what? Thirty-five, and past the peak of his libido. I’m as old as the two of them together, but I’ve had some—help—Commonwealth medical treatments—and I’m almost keeping up with Randy here. And then there’s the peos-size neurosis. It’s gotta be messing with Jimmy’s head to be the smallest cock on this block.’
He examined the scene before him, trying to see it as the younger men would. Blond Kim stood perhaps five feet tall, and kept a slim, very girlish figure, with small breasts and narrow waist. Her hips were slightly broader than her shoulders, which was all that gave away her age: ‘Twenty-four now, I guess.’
Marie stood a bit taller than Kim, but not much. She had wide, inviting hips and an attractive bottom. ‘Her breasts have been surgically reduced, or they’d be as big as Luisa’s,’ he thought. She’d lost about twenty pounds in the time since she’d first visited the Commonwealth. Her waist was more visible, her back less painful, and as he’d noted: she had much higher libido.
Luisa had about the same height, and large breasts, and darker hair than Marie’s auburn. At thirty-six, she was three years younger than Marie, and had a very sexually mature body. ‘It excited me from the first time I put my arms around her waist. But that cognate thing drew us together, too.’
He allowed all that to flow away; he relaxed and enjoyed the show.
“Don’t let it bug you too much, Randy. They’ll be ready for us again soon.”
“Yeah,” Randy replied “...or, we could, you know, I guess...” He made a tentative motion in Ambros’ direction.
Ambros intercepted it, then put his arm around Randy in a companionable way.
Jimmy stared at them, appalled.
Ambros said: “Now that’s something I’m not ready for yet. I have had such adventures, but I’m really almost entirely straight. For that, I’d say you’ll have to wait a few years. If you stick with the group, and if we get close enough...” He kissed Randy lightly on the mouth.
“It’s cool,” said Randy, shrugging out of Ambros’ embrace and frowning thoughtfully at Jimmy’s reaction. “I’m not in a hurry.” He tipped his head at the squirming women on the biggest bed: “Especially since...”
“So,” Ambros changed the subject: “How is it no young ladies ever jumped your bones, kid?”
Randy shook his head; “My mom is terrified that I’ll get myself lynched. She from Alabama...She say I’m too good-lookin’, I should please stay away from white girls...except Eugene is a damn white town, y’know?”
“Yeah, I’d noticed.”
“Well, it puts a damper on a guy’s enthusiasm, right? Hearin’ that every day?”
“I can see how it would,” said Ambros.
Luisa pulled herself out of the pile and said: “Sorry folks, but I am done. I want a shower.
Marie agreed with her, and the two of them went out.
“Hey Randy,” said Kim: “Ready?”
He lunged towards the bed; she stopped him long enough to roll another rubber on, then said: “Go to it!”
That condom and two more landed in the trash can before she sent him off: “You’re smelly. Go shower.”
He grinned happily as he obeyed; he stopped in the doorway long enough to watch Jimmy mount her. He frowned for a moment, then continued on his way.
After a quarter hour or so, Kim invited Ambros to join them. Jimmy made room, very nervously; Kim laughed at him, not at all cruelly.
He flinched anyway.
Kim took his hands in hers: “We talked about this, Jimmy.”
“I know...”
“No, I get it, I’m going to give you a lot of time to get over the BS, but...I love Ambros every bit as much as I love you...”
“And I love her,” Ambros put in.
“Well, I do too,” Jimmy said, diffidently.
“Then you need to relax and believe that we love you,” said Kim.
“Ambros doesn’t. The others...the other women don’t.” Jimmy looked a little defiant.
“They could, though,” said Ambros: “We could. You have really good qualities, Jimmy.”
Kim spoke, overriding Jimmy: “But you need to be worthy of the whole family’s love! You need to work hard to get over your possessiveness. And I won’t even tolerate a bit of visible jealousy. Not a bit! You can’t let that show! For my sake and for your own...not to mention for Randy’s. You mustn’t model that behavior around that young man, who has such promise. Equal to your own!”
She took one of his hands and placed it on her hip, and put her other hand on his cheek: “Jaime, my love: I’ll do everything I can to reassure you...Don’t even think of saying it, sweetheart. Envy, and jealousy, and possessiveness: they grow out of fear and insecurity, notout of love.
“I’ll do anything I need to do to make you feel secure, except I won’t give up my freedom. Agency, Jimmy! Do you know what that means? Your American is good now, you do know what that means! Take a walk around any part of Athino, listen to what people say and watch what they do...understand how truly free people interact.
“I am a free woman, I won’t be constrained by the outdated ideas you learned as a child.”
She kissed him, and drew him down on top of her: “You are getting something today that no other man has ever had from me. Make this work, sweetheart.” She kept him moving slowly, for a long time.
Ambros being where he was meant the only place he could comfortably place his hand was on the small of Jimmy’s back. Jimmy flinched at first, but then settled.
When at length she pushed him away and took Ambros in again, Jimmy did well enough. He sat briefly with his hand over his eyes, then hesitantly lay down beside them, his hand on Ambros’ back.
Eventually even Kim showed her exhaustion. Ambros and Jimmy helped her to her feet and took her to the shower.
Ambros rinsed himself and then went back to the great room for some food. Marie and Luisa sat in adjacent chairs, napping. Randy seemed to be brooding.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ambros.
“She was making me wear a condom. I don’t mind, I guess, there’s diseases and all, but...”
“But?”
“She wasn’t making you or Jimmy wear one. I get that you and she are...but Jimmy’s new in this group, too, right?”
Ambros nodded: “I see what you mean.” He pondered things for a moment, then smiled: “I have one piece of information that you don’t. I’m sterile. It’s reversible. But it’s something that...my Guild recommends for people of any gender who are in dangerous jobs. But anyway...think about it.”
It took the young man a while, but he figured it out: “Oh. I get it. She wants to get preg...oh. Wow.”
“Yeah, I just figured that out myself.” Ambros grinned: “She set this date herself, y’know. We might just have watched it happen. How do you feel about that?”
“Umm. I don’t know. Honored, I guess. That’s kinda cool, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed,” he said. He thought: ‘Jimmy still has issues, but I think Randy is adapting very well to this—this ‘whole new world’ thing.’
*******************************************************************************************************************************************************
The sun was not yet above the horizon.
Ambros gestured and Randy climbed up the extended ramp into the bus. Ambros followed. The driver smiled and nodded as Randy thanked him in a clumsy version of RH. They took seats across the aisle from each other; the bus lurched and then moved smoothly along the granite-paved roadway.
‘Kid looks a little bit hung-over...I tried to make sure he didn’t drink too much of that sweet wine in between the afternoon and evening hijinks.’
Ambros pointed out various landmarks as they went, speaking American: “...and that’s an old Turkish watchtower, pre-Revolution. See how the inhabitants have maintained the appearance while adapting it for their own use? The fields hereabouts are watered by condensers...see them along the hill there...and there is a wind farm, as we’d call it...”
“It’s a really strange contrast,” said Randy.
“What is?”
“Between the valley bottom, like on either side of the road here, and the hills.”
“Yes, it is. The hills are the ‘natural’ state of this landscape. Goatherds and an occasional hunter live up there, and a few other people who dislike crowds. The valley bottoms show you what more sociable country people do: build villages, irrigate fields, grow food, raise kids.”
“Yeah...”
The bus eased to a stop and extended the ramp. The driver exited the vehicle; Ambros looked to see what he was doing.
“C’mon, Randy, let’s help.”
They got off the bus and Ambros led Randy to the back. There they found the bus driver unloading empty boxes from a rear compartment.
They pitched in. Soon people bearing boxes of produce arrived. They stacked the cargo carefully, and then took the empty cases and departed, bantering tersely the while.
Ambros plucked a root from one of the boxes. When they were seated again, he cut the root in two and offered a piece to Randy.
“What is it?”
“Rutabaga. I like these better than turnips or beets, which is what most of the stuff headed to the City is, in February.”
They munched a while.
The bus moved left, and a truck passed them by, bearing odd machinery and a rack of bicycles.
Randy tipped his head at the freight and said: “Where’s that going?”
“Probably near where we just stopped, among other such villages. The machinery is mostly farm equipment...like Roombas, but they chew up noxious weeds. And everybody on the planet uses bicycles, so those could be going anywhere.”
At length the bus rolled around a wide curve in the road, following the valley bottom, and they could see Athino in the distance. The weak sunlight of February—what Hellenes called ‘mid-Greening’—shone upon the white marble columns of temples and the many-colored roofs and walls of stoas and houses and apartment blocks. They looked down upon a City of pastels, with highlights of lime and pink and orange. They approached the southeast Gate in the outer walls of Athens via a road that passed by the Arena.
Ambros said: “Anything from a big sporting event to a poetry slam—which the Hellenes would consider equally prestigious— to most duels, to big Polis meetings, and even global debates...it all happens there, in the Arena.”
“Huh. That where you fought your duel with that guy...Reg?”
“Regulos. Yeah.”
“He still around?”
“Yeah. And he has friends who aren’t happy with me.”
Randy nodded: “That’s why you’re going armed. With the shortsword, and the pistol and that...um...”
“Adjustable-range Plasma Sword. Yes, that is exactly why I am armed, in a City where no-one ordinarily is.”
“But there are no laws...or...rules that say you can’t go armed?”
“None at all.”
“No rules at all?” Randy seemed nonplussed.
Ambros pndered: “Not set in stone. But yeah, there’s...what you might call firm customs. One would be: ‘Don’t annoy other people’ and another would be: ‘Don’t be too easily annoyed’.”
The bus pulled into a huge roundabout, where a dozen others of the same type sat silent. No two looked exactly alike: their drivers had painted and decorated them variously and colorfully.
They disembarked, and Ambros said: “Let’s check the Arena. There’s usually something going on there.”
It was a short walk around to the open end of the U-shaped stands. Nearest the broad opening were people with brooms and rakes, who were working their way out of the Arena. All had various levels of Down’s Syndrome, and they had a “straw boss’ who had just a touch of that malady. She directed the clumsier and less adept workers, and gently kept the work going.
Beyond the sweepers they could see a dais with a podium, and a small crowd in the bleachers near at hand. The woman at the podium swayed back and forth as she chanted.
“Poetry recital,” said Ambros: “Listen a bit.”
After a few minutes, Ambros said: “She’s a famous poet, well known for her Dissenter sympathies...sorry, you’ll learn about factions and movements inside the Commonwealth soon enough.”
“I can’t understand it, of course,” said Randy: “But it sounds neat. The beat keeps changing...”
“Yes, it would, considering her reputation.” He tipped his head: “Let’s go. I gotta get you home soon.”
“Okay...”
They strolled at their leisure through the “markets”: thenoma plataeae, where goods available for distribution lay on counters or hung along the street in booths festooned with every kind of handicraft.
“So,” said Randy: “I know y’all don’t use money here. Could I take stuff, if I wanted it?”
“Mostly, sorta,” laughed Ambros: “With me as an escort, in this belt, red with five chevrons, you could have nearly anything in this cul-de-sac. On your own, unable to speak the language and lacking any sign of Status to tip the craftspeople as to your contribution to the Whole...? Most of the cooks would feed you. Some low-ranking craftspeople would probably acquiesce. That’s about it. But there would be plenty of exceptions. If you had no shoes, somebody would let you take some.”
“Huh.”
“Each person has individual agency, Randy. Individual liberty and collective action for the good of the Whole. That’s the Commonwealth in a nutshell.”
At length they approached the front of the War Guilds’ Command Complex. Randy had passed through on his way to the orgy, but he’d been escorted by an Archaros who had other things to do that day. He hadn’t got a good look around.
Ambros escorted Randy through the small door to the right of the main entrance.
He explained what Randy could see in brief phrases: “This is the Main Hall. Hang on while I pick up my Shifter...this is the machine that moved you to and from the different Timelines I took you to...the Main Hall is the original center of the Complex...they built it back when they thought it might be attacked by artillery and infantry, so it’s pretty sturdy...The underground parts they dug later...a series of natural limestone caves...granite in the foundations...this way...This is a very fancy elevator, goes sideways as well as down...”
They passed along the halls; dark wooden paneling alternated with brightly lit niches, where people studied and socialized.
Randy looked around wide-eyed at the War Room. Ambros recalled his own first glimpse of Commonwealth Tech, standing under a Halo as Voukli and Arrenji dissected his whole life and graded his accomplishments.
“This is a War Room, one of several in the this Complex,” Ambros explained: “This particular War Room caters to Sacred Band demands, and uses its extra capacity to help out the other War Guilds when they are overwhelmed...Magistros Megálos here will see to getting you home...stand and watch a minute.”
Randy boggled as a small group of SB operatives dropped in on the landing pad. They all wore Sacred Band’s standard blue-black armor and carried various weapons. One of the women limped as the group cleared the pad. She also winked at Randy, saying: “Hi there, hot stuff,” in Rational Hellenic.
Ambros translated; Randy blushed.
“She’s injured, but she’s hitting on me? I mean...”
“Well, it happens,” said Ambros: “SB tends to a wicked sense of humor, and they—we—aren’t very prudish. The Commonwealth in general is pretty libertine, but everyone will respect your personal boundaries. If you’re visiting here and someone makes an unwelcome pass, just say ‘no’ and the exchange will end.” He grinned: “The word in Hellenic is ‘Okhi’ or ‘Okhou’ depending on how ceremonial you are feeling.”
“I guess I better learn the language...Rational Hellenic, huh?”
“It’s a good idea, if you are gonna come and go from here very much at all.”
“Well, I hope I am,” said Randy, glancing shyly at Ambros.
Ambros gripped his shoulder and said: “If you want to, we’ll arrange it. Next time I bring you across, we’ll get you speaking Hellenic
fluently.” He grinned: “It’s called ‘four-strand memory-RNA training’. It’ll take a couple hours.”
“Oh...” Randy looked hopeful.
“No time today. You need to be back at the Salon, and I have a meeting to attend.”
“Oh, okay. So, see you tonight?”
“This evening, yes. Probably about seven.”
“Okay.”
Ambros introduced Randy to Megálos, and stayed until Randy vanished from the launch pad.
Then he heaved a sigh and headed for Combat Medical, a couple floors down from the War Room.
He arrived, and got his bearings. The Med Junior at the information desk sent him to an exam room, where he found Iatri Alaisi working with Averos and Kim to set up a Halo in the space. When it activated and the room became as if enshrouded in fog, Ambros stepped into the Halo’s influence.
At once he found himself immobile. That is, he could turn his head, or speak, but not otherwise move.
Kim said: “Try to stay completely still, and don’t talk, okay sweetie? We have to get a deep reading here, I expect.”
He smiled a tightlipped smile and stood still.
In minutes, the walls lit up with holographic views of his brain.
“Hmm. There are several peculiarities here, compared to the base scan Arrenji did the first time she Haloed you...” Alaisi compared things, muttering: “...just ordinary development...axon growth...here’s some better reflexes...more robust muscle control...some strange developments in the corpus callosum, nothing to do with what we’re looking for...”
Averos’ eyebrow twitched in Ambros’ direction.
“Ah! There we are,” said Alaisi.
Ambros could see the part of his brain that Alaisi had highlighted. He nearly laughed aloud. That made parts of the image activate, flickering.
“What’s funny?” said Kim, as she studied a three-D display of equations, some using symbols Ambros didn’t understand at all.
He spoke: “I figured you’d find the anomaly, and that it wouldn’t do any of us any good at all. I was right, by the look of it.”
“Only a little good,” said Averos: “I think this is an information implant; there are no signs of a compulsion of any kind implanted in your brain.”
“You can tell that? That implies that you’ve dealt with this sort of thing in the past!” Ambros felt the Halo shut down, and he shook himself a bit to limber up.
“Rarely, but we recorded it. It came from an Authoritarian Line, where they were doing advanced brainwashing. But we learned to recognize certain kinds of...post-hypnotic compulsion. There’s nothing like that here,” Averos gestured at the scan.
“Well, that’s good.”
Averos said: “I’m sending a copy of this to my lab, by your leave Ambros.”
“Sure, that’s okay.’
“Yes, it is,” said Kim: “I think it’s lunchtime, how about you?”
Ambros woke from a nap with a start, as Sylvester the Cat landed on his chest with a thump.
“Dude,” he groaned: “Nineteen pound cat...” He rubbed his sternum.
The cat hopped down, launching from the general area of his bladder.
“Okay, I’m up. What’s the fuss?” He visited the urinal in the men’s shower, then checked the cat’s food and water dishes: “Everything’s shipshape, Sly.” He looked around and the cat was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged and headed towards his office. The cat came charging in through the cat door and ran to cut him off.
“What? The hell do you want?”
He followed the beast as it ran towards the cat door again. He shrugged, got his cloak and boots on, and followed. Exiting through the person door next to the cat door, he saw Sly waiting at the gate to the nursery.
Sly led him out the gate. He contemplated the disheveled plants and sagging boxes and buckets of soil and compost. “I oughtta get some work in out here. That what you’re trying to tell me? Well, it can wait for Spring. Nobody is looking for shrubberies this time of year.”
The cat looked back from halfway up the alley, tail high.
He grinned: “All right, sure, I’m coming.” He followed the animal around a corner into the north-south alley behind Ronald Bradley’s dojo.
Sly stopped there and pointed with his nose.
A tunnel led into the blackberry brambles, far too small for a man to enter. A ratty-looking female cat stuck her head out, then retreated. Ambros stood still as a stone, waiting. Nothing more happened.
Sly led on, showing him a homeless man sleeping under an abandoned shower stall, a broken-down auto with sleeping bags laid out on both seats, and several places where people’s belongings lay stashed in dry spots among the detritus and debris along the alleys.
“You know every homeless person in this part of town. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Mrrrow,”
They stayed mostly in the alleys, but eventually turned for home along the street just south of the one his Salon fronted on. As they passed Bradley’s dojo, Ambros saw the sensei out front, welcoming students.
Bradley bowed, as did Ambros. The cat chirped at them and trotted ahead to the Salon, jumping through the cat door with a swish.
“About to start a class of high-schoolers, Sir. We’ll start sparring in half an hour or so...”
Ambros grinned: “Are you inviting me?”
“Absolutely. We’d love to have you!”
“I’ll go change, and be along soon.”
Bradley bowed again.
Ambros changed into fighting clothes and put his cup on. He added his white cloth Knight’s belt to the ensemble, grinning at the intended double meaning. He grabbed a bag of light pads and put his cloak back on, plus some boots for the trip across the parking lots.
He bowed in to the front door of the dojo, stashed his cloak and boots on a shelf with others’ outdoor clothes, then bowed again as he entered the main room, where students were following Bradley through a standard Taekwondo form.
He loosened up beside the mats, doing his usual stretching exercises and breathing for a few minutes in his usual meditation routine.
When Bradley sent the class to prepare for sparring, Ambros bowed on to the mat.
Bradley offered a hand and Ambros shook it.
“I have no idea how to rank you in this sparring session,” said Bradley.
“Place me all the way at the bottom, if you like,” said Ambros, grinning and touching his belt: “I fully qualify for this belt in Taekwondo.”
Bradley laughed: “Well, if you say so. We do this in modified traditional style, with the least ranked students fighting up to the highest.”
“And that highest would be you, huh?”
“Well...”
“Yes, obviously,” said Ambros. “Place me wherever you like. It’s years since I did any TKD. This should be fun.”
An hour and a half later Ambros bowed to the brown belt who’d just defeated him, three points to one. He stepped out of the circle and stood beside it to watch, breathing hard.
A woman in a brown belt, whom he had defeated in the previous round came to stand by him. They watched as Bradley dismantled the previous winner’s defense, getting a clean hit and two kicks, plus a throw.
Everyone applauded.
Ms Brown Belt nudged Ambros and said: “Your footwork is really peculiar.”
“Yeah, I guess it would be.”
“Where’s it come from? Western style swordplay?”
“Mostly,” he admitted: “Though I was quite a dojo rat back in my misspent youth. I don’t even know how to describe how I put my style together.”
Bradley came over, wiping his face on a towel: “How about: ‘Absorb what is useful, discard what is useless, and add that which is uniquely your own.’?”
“That’s pretty spot on,” Ambros agreed.
“From a book by Bruce Lee,” Bradley laughed.
“Well, he would know,” said Ms Brown Belt. “Now show me what you were doing. I don’t guess I care where it comes from...”
“Well, if you think of the standard crescent step as an arc, a section of a circle, the outward part of the circle is implied. George Silver speaks of ‘stepping back a little circularly’ and Fiore shows big circular steps used to change the angle of a fight...forward or backward...my big toe and the inside of the ball of my foot drag lightly...I can put my foot down instantly in any place along the circle, without being off balance...kempo...wingchun...open you with a step, rolling punches...” Ambros went on for a few minutes, demonstrating the utility of outward circles in hand-to-hand combat as well as swordplay. Others joined in, kibbitzing.
Eventually he excused himself. As he gathered up his things, Bradley approached.
The Sensei said: “I hope you’re not upset...”
“Whatever about?” Ambros asked, astonished.
“Well...I didn’t think the point that eliminated you ought to have been awarded. Mickey is...kinda green.”
Ambros laughed: “I’m way too old to have my ego wrapped up in stuff like that. I had fun. Did you?”
“Yes I did. Thank you, sir.
“You’re welcome, sensei,” said Ambros, and headed home.
Ambros returned to his Salon, sweaty and happy. He hung his cloak on a peg by the door.
“A good workout,” he said to the cat.
“Rrrow,” Sly replied, and stumped off toward the garage area and his food and water dishes.
Ambros went to his office and through it to his bedroom. He picked out fresh trousers and a black sweatshirt, socks and other necessities, and went back the way he’d come, and into the shower room.
As he dressed, he could hear someone knocking on the door. He stuck his head out of the half-doors that blocked the showers from casual view and saw Chief Black of the EPD standing at the door, peering in with his hands shielding his eyes.
Ambros waved and made a ‘just a minute’ gesture. He finished dressing, and snagged a sweater from the shelves by the door.
He strolled over and unlocked the entryway: “You can put your coat and hat on those pegs, Chief.” It was raining out, hard enough to justify Black’s anonymous-looking topcoat and broad-brimmed hat.
He led the way to his office, seating Black in the comfy chair. He went on into the bedroom, unsnapped the thigh pocket of his trousers and slipped his smaller pistol into place.
“You’re here incognito again, Chief,” he commented as he closed the door and palm locked it.
“Yeah,” said the top cop: “Don’t make it a public thing.”
Ambros waved nonchalantly: “Keep it as secret as you like, I don’t care.”
“I felt like we should touch base...” Black looked like he’d bitten something nasty and bitter.
Ambros didn’t mention his ace in the hole to Black: ‘That envelope—and the implied data files—with all the evidence of bad hires and violent cops unpunished.’ But Black had surely not forgotten, which gave Ambros an advantage, and the confidence to defy an otherwise very powerful and dangerous man.
“I can see you’re not happy with me,” said Ambros: “I ain’t exactly overwhelmed with joy about you. Do you think we can speak the truth to one another while remaining civil? Relatively civil, anyway?”
Black nodded, still unhappy: “I’ll give it a go if you will.”
“Okay. Why don’t you tell me which particular thing brought you to my doorstep today.”
“That video...”
Ambros grinned: “Which one?”
“You know the one,” Black said, his voice rising. He breathed deeply: “The one that shows the eviction of the trespassers from the swamp.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“It’s linked to your Webz-site!”
“So? I link to lots of stuff!”
Black had half stood. He sat back down visibly trembling: “About that ‘speaking truth to each other’ part: I can’t prove it, but I’m sure it’s your video. So no BS.”
“I admit nothing, but I take your point. What exactly is your objection?”
Black shook his head: “Makes me and the entire department look like thugs.”
“Is it deceptive? Or did your boys do a bunch of thuggish shit that day, and someone caught it on camera? The video showed a fair amount of violence from the Swampers, too. Didn’t it?”
Black sat chewing on that for a while. Then he said: “I did discipline a dozen officers after the video...got posted.”
“I read that,” said Ambros. “Explain your complaint. About the video.”
“The way it’s edited makes my guys look...worse than they had to look.”
Ambros stared for a moment: “The original post was unedited, as far as I could see. There was a link that showed the full recordings from all three of the...drones, or whatever they were. The flying cameras. Then combined footage, showing the entire field of—play, let’s say—including the Army Reserve’s actions. I don’t accept your critique.”
“You know what I’m talking about!”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“That edited version on the CopWatch Webz-site...”
Ambros shook his head, emphatically: “I am not a member of that organization. I am not responsible for their actions. Even if the original footage had been mine...”
“I want you to talk them into taking it down.” said Black.
Ambros sat silently for a minute, breathing, saying silently: ‘calm, relax’. Then he said: “No, I don’t have to do that.”
Black sighed. He said: “We had a deal...”
“A very limited deal. I told you something you wanted to know, and I cautioned you that the information would be of little use to you, at least in the case of Masters. You agreed to lay off of me and my family.”
Black sighed again: “Yeah, that’s true.”
“Did you think that made us friends?” Ambros made a gesture like an oversized shrug: “Was I supposed to be on your side, now?”
“Nah, I guess I didn’t really expect that. I had five guys injured when that pallet of tear gas and pepper spray mysteriously exploded. One guy got it bad.”
“Mysteriously?”
Black laughed bitterly: “Well, the video didn’t show much of that part of the incident. It was still pretty dark.”
“Huh.” Ambros remained non-committal.
“I’m not happy about my injured guys.”
Ambros looked bleak: “As far as I’m concerned tear gas and pepper spray are chemical weapons. If something is banned by the Geneva Conventions for use as a battlefield weapon, should you be using it on civilians?”
“Tear gas is not technically...”
“I said ‘as far as I am concerned’. And you were gonna use the stuff on the Swampers.”
“Well, only if they resisted the eviction.”
Ambros waved dismissively: “You knew they would.”
“My guys got a much more concentrated dose. They...”
“Compared to who? One of those canisters could have gone off right at the feet of some Swamper!”
After a moment of tense silence, Ambros said: “Y’know, when we made our deal, I let something slide. Since we’re speaking truth here,,,”
“...yeah?”
“I suspect you came to me back then about that wreck out by the Orenhauser place because you had a cop or two on scene. As in: they were tailing me, and Kim Mallory. So...”
Black nodded: “You wanna know why they didn’t intervene when Dillon and his boys tried to kill you. You and Miss Mallory.”
Ambros merely stared.
“Not much I can say about that,” said Black: “The men reported that it was raining hard, and on a dark stretch of road; they heard gunfire and didn’t dare make a closer approach.”
Black grinned nastily and finished: “Also...there’s a fair portion of the department wouldn’t weep if you came to an unpleasant end. I can’t fire them all.”
“Why not?”
“They got a union.” Black laughed bitterly: “I still want to know how you did that...vanishing the evidence, and all the bodies.”
Ambros snorted: “Just think of it as magic.”
The Chief snorted in his turn. They sat glaring at one another for a minute.
Then Ambros grinned: “We done here? Feeling like you did your duty?”
“Yeah,” said Chief Black: “Yeah, I guess. We still on speaking terms?”
Ambros nodded: “But not in the handshake mode.”
“Okay. The Mayor wants a meeting with you.”
“What for?”
Black shrugged: “I dunno. He wants me there.”
“Set up a time. I can probably spare fifteen minutes, maybe a half-hour.”
‘Right. I’ll be in touch.” The Chief stood up and stomped out of the office, and shortly thereafter, out the door.
Ambros got up and checked the chair the Chief had been sitting in: “Huh. No bug?” His tech declared the chair clean. He shrugged and set to work on an essay.
An hour later he heard a ping. He looked at his MPS and saw a message from Arrenji: “Better tune in, Red Warrior Guild Main Hall.”
He made a face, saved the essay and checked the live feed from the place mentioned. He saw a group of RWG Spathae and Magistrae sitting in a half-circle of folding chairs. Regulos, looking wan and uncomfortable, stood before them.
“Whatever is happening,” he thought: ‘...looks as though it’s been going on for some time.” He waved a hand, turning the sound up a notch.
“...citizen of Athino, by birthright. You can’t force me out.”
One of the Magistrae said: “We realize that. We are trying to persuade you...”
“Why should I be exiled?”
“Self exiled,” a Spathos corrected: “For the good of the Guild and your own safety.”
Regulos waved away the correction: “How is it for my safety? I can defend mys...”
“No, you can’t,” said another Magistre: “Spathos Ambros proved that quite convincingly, to everyone. Except, apparently, to you.”
Regulos snarled, defiant.
“One rarely sees such poor judgement in a person born and raised in the Commonwealth,” murmured another Spathe.
The Magistri in the center of the arc of seats waved a hand and a holotank lit up. It ran a recording of the duel Ambros had fought with Regulos. Ambros winced as he saw himself cut deeply into Reg’s inner thigh.
Regulos looked even paler, but stood his ground.
The holo changed to one in Regulos’ hospital room. Ambros listened as Regulos threatened him, and as he counter-threatened Reg.
The Magistri spoke again: “As Spathos Ambros asked: why would you threaten a man who had already killed you once?”
“Explain to us how you will survive your next encounter with that man,” said a Spathisi: “Can you give us a reason why he shouldn’t kill you out of hand the next time he sees you?”
Regulos remained silent, scowling, thoughtful.
The Magistri in the center of the jury, evidently presiding, looked to her left at the Spathisi sitting at that end of the arc. She nodded.
“Yes, Magistri.” She drew a heavy leather glove from her belt and tossed it at Reg’s feet: “I hereby challenge you to a duel.”
The man to her right followed suit: “I issue challenge as well.”
They continued, one after the other until Regulos said: “Stop! Stop! What in Hades are you doing?”
“We are maintaining the peace of Athino,” said the Magistri: “You will be so busy fighting us, one by one, that you will never be able to approach Spathos Ambros again. By that means we are preserving your life as well...” She set the video of the duel running again. Regulos watched, weeping.
At last Regulos said: “I’ll go. I get it. I’m sorry...”
The Magistri sighed loudly: “You will have a choice of Allied Lines for your exile. Try to be less of a fool in the future. If they in turn exile you...”
“I will have to go to a Quiet Line next,” Regulos finished: “Endaxi.”
“You will turn in your wrist-makina before you we Shift you.”
Ambros shut the video down as Regulos acceded to that further humiliation: “I never wanted him humiliated, or exiled. He did it to himself.”
“And he accepted the justice of his own exile, at the end.” Arrenji’s voice in his ear showed that she’d also watched the proceedings.
“Yeah,” said Ambros: “He understood that the punishment was just.”
“We rarely punish anyone in the Commonwealth. The person we sanction must see—and feel—the fairness, the *justice* of the punishment...and se must also see that it is for both the good of the Commonwealth and for their own good as well.”
“We’re doing this for your own good...?” Ambros let a bit of irony into his voice.
“What would happen the next time you saw Reg face-to-face?”
“I’d have killed him,” Ambros answered without thinking. “Oh. Huh.”
After a silence, he continued: “Thing is, I never met a guy who acted like Regulos who was not a victim of really abusive child-rearing. And that doesn’t make sense, in the Commonwealth...”
Arrenji’s spoke: “He comes from a family background not conducive to good child-rearing. His parents are from Churchtown, and one set of grandparents were refugees to this Line. So I wager you’re correct: he could have been badly damaged as a child, and escaped from Churchtown into the wider Commonwealth at 12 years old or so.”
“Younger than that,” Ambros said; “according to his best friend.”
“Hmm. I’ll look into it. He may have siblings who would appreciate an intervention.”
“Akuo sas.”
He saved the essay he’d been working on and moved to another document, a blank one. He sat for a moment and then wrote the following:
As some of you know, I have been very concerned about the War Guilds’ general appearance in regards to common soldiers on the other side: that is, fighting on behalf of the various Authoritarian Lines whose often precarious coalition we and our allies oppose.
‘As Magistri Arrenji pointed out last dhekamera, the enemy is using their Legionnaires and other special forces as usual in raids and attacks on our outposts. These attacks have been increasing in number and frequency, which suggests better intelligence on their part. They are also bringing increasing numbers of conscript troops along on such raids. Magistri Arrenji asked me to think about that, and what it might mean. I think it means they’ve taken a lot of casualties among the Legions. They can no longer support putting continuous pressure on our “perimeter” without using draftees. This is an opportunity for our side.
‘I have several thoughts about this, including the following:
‘1. The enemy has a huge problem with morale; they must monitor their military all the way down to squad level, just to forestall continued mutinies. The vast majority of their fighting power consists of draftees, often rebellious, and unhappy with their lot even when obeying their officers. We ought to be able to turn far more of their troops, induce them to surrender, and re-settle them in habitable Quiet Lines. That is, after all, our considered policy; we ought to get better at making it happen that way.
‘2. To that end, I have several suggestions: first, everyone keep your visors clear. The blackened helms ought only to be used in those specific circumstances where we need to be intimidating.
‘3. We ought to press the Ambassadors Vree, Virgilos, and René to get us more infiltrators, people from their Lines willing to enter the Authoritarian militaries as moles. They ought to be able to move larger units to group desertion and surrender to our forces. That should not be difficult, though it will obviously be dangerous.
‘4. Tech Guild could explore the idea of sabotaging Gates in Authoritarian Lines. Fix it so any army passing through goes to a Quiet Line instead of the target chosen by the army’s commanders. Then shut the Gate, block it somehow...and send in our own people to offer re-settlement to the Authoritarian Line troops.
‘I look forward to a vigorous debate about these suggestions. Feel free to contact me personally if you feel the need.
—Ambros Rothakis
Spathos 5 Phalango Iera
Athino, Keenafthono Prima’
He sent that to the war Guild’s Kyklo, and sent a copy to Magistro Skavo at the Pacifist Deme’s Kyklo.
Voukli raised a hand and made some signs; Ambros slowly lowered himself to the ground.
The sun shone upon the scene, though they two were in the shade, deep in the giant bracken that covered the upland moors of that particular Quiet England. Ambros crawled forward to see what had halted his mentor.
When he lay side-by-side with her, he shook his head in dismay. He guessed from her expression that she agreed with his assessment of the situation.
They looked down from the hills at the edge of the moor. A huge grid of walkways made of crushed and rolled limestone and
marble lay glittering in the noon sun. Gangs of workmen lay about at each intersection.
Voukli signed for him to activate his “radio”.
Her voice whispered in his ear: “This is going to be the camp for the second wave of Jean IV’s invasion? It’s three times the size of the first wave. Is this standard for the set-up, as you’ve scouted it?”
“Yeah...first wave camped right outside the Gates, the second wave about an hour away, three thousand well-drilled troops in each first wave, led by his Legionnaires, ten times that in the second wave.”
“Where is he going to get that many soldiers?”
“I don’t know. But once they are camped here, they can quick-march in an hour to the Gate near Whitby. They could reach a couple other Gates in a day’s walk.”
“Well, he wouldn’t be setting all this up if he didn’t intend some serious mischief,” Voukli said grimly.
“You got that right. Here, let’s check the map...Gulsborough Road. I guess this is their intended route to the Gate.”
“It’d be the quickest, on foot.”
“They have to use it: see, they have to cross the river somewhere, and the best and widest remaining bridge is here, on Gulsborough: what later times called the A171.”
“I see where you are going...” Voukli grinned.
He nodded: “I’m gonna hang out by that bridge for a day or two, see if I can get a satchel charge on it, like the one that Vree used last year. I’ll have Averos set it up so it goes off simultaneously with his EMP bursts.”
The sound of horns and whistles drifted up to them. The slaves rose and returned to their labors, shoveling rock or rolling it with gigantic cylindrical rollers that took twelve men to pull.
The groans of a thousand men came to them where they lay, and the sound of whips cracking and the buzz of electric prods. Ambros found himself grinding his teeth.
Voukli nudged him: “Nothing we can do about it right now. If your plan works, we can free all of them, and billions more besides.”
“Yeah. But Vree’s part of the plan is almost more important.” He tipped his head towards the construction site: “They have to free themselves, you know. In their minds.”
She agreed. They crawled backwards through the ferns until they could stand without being observed from the camp.
She saluted him; he returned the salute. She said: “I’ll Saltate you a satchel charge; will you wait here for it, or Jump to the bridge first?”
“I’m gonna walk to the bridge, paralleling the road, so I can make sure there are no surprises waiting in the shrubbery. It’ll give me a chance to scope out the traffic, too. Figure out when would be a good time to plant the bomb without being seen. Drop the satchel...here.” He indicated a place on the map.
“Endaxi. See you tomorrow then?”
“Maybe...I also have a request from Averos to place a sensor near the Whitby Gate. He wants to see if he can re-set it when the first wave starts to pass through, maybe send them across the ocean to someplace in Europe, in this Line. If we’re successful with Operation Spartacus, the armies would then be stranded without orders, the Authoritarian military decapitated. That’s the plan, anyway.”
‘It’s a good plan, Spathos. It just takes a lot of work beforehand to set it up. It’ll be worth it, though, if it works.” She grinned: “Okay, two days. Then I want you back for more training.”
He gazed seriously at her: “Smarter, not harder,” he said, pointedly.
She narrowed her eyes and raised her chin a little sideways; then she nodded, saying: “Smarter. See ya.”
She saluted, then vanished even as he returned the salute.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-01 02:56 am (UTC)I don't like the reference to Down's Syndrome as a 'malady'. While that's technically true, it implies they are to be pitied. I think of them as differently abled.