New Olympus Saga (Book 3): Apocalypse Dance (18 page)

“I shouldn’t have said those things happened to me, even though the memories are vivid enough. My perspective is very different, even if one discounts how insane I was back then.”

“This is way complicated, but I guess it’s not important right now. What you’re saying is that the rate of Neo creation is already too fast.”

“The Republic of China has quadrupled the number of Type Threes in its army in under two years. That means it’s very likely that there are over a dozen more Type Threes – and maybe one or two Type Fours, God help us – out in the world, each one with the potential to be an existential threat. Six months from now, those numbers could double. In a year, they might grow tenfold. At that point, Daedalus predicted millions of deaths just from casual interactions between inexperienced Neos of such power levels, and much worse if even a few of them become insane or lose control over their powers.”

“Okay, I hear you. At the very least, I need to put a moratorium on new Neo births or whatevs. I hope it’s as easy as telling the Source to chill the eff out for a bit. After that, maybe I can try to turn off the juice for any Neos that are too d-baggy to trust with that kind of power. The Iron Tsar and the Emperor, for one, or two, I guess.”

“If you do so, there will be consequences. Depowering either of those men will create a massive political vacuum, leading to chaos in their spheres of influence: civil war, or worse. Millions could die.”

“Crap. You do know the Tsar is not a nice guy at all, don’t you?”

“I know. He’s also maintained stability in the region for several decades. Even the Emperor was not the worst thing that could have happened to China. You’ve told me the about such atrocities in your world as the Great Leap Forward in Communist China, which led to almost fifty million deaths. Nothing the Dragon Empire has done comes close to that.”

“Yeah, it’s weird. I’ve done more reading since things settled down, and it looks like both Russia and China did a lot better than in my universe. Stalin didn’t get to kill anywhere near as many people here, because the Ukrainian rebellion kept him in check. And you had no Mao, no Cultural Revolution, and so on, and all the Asian Wars combined – including the Chinese Civil War, the Japanese occupation and so on – killed less than fifteen million people total, which isn’t great but it is, horribly enough, a lot less than what we got in my super-less world. Not sure what that says about humanity in general.”

“It does say one thing: you need to think carefully about what you do with your power.”

“Okay. So what if I do the ‘new hiring freeze’ bit and wait and see what happens before doing anything else?”

“I think that would be wise. After the immediate problem is dealt with, we can gather together the best minds on the planet, Neo and human, and try to come up with a proper solution. We can offer you advice, although the final decision is going to be in your hands.” And there will be many who object to that, he didn’t say out loud. Those objections might be quite lethal.

“Awesome, not. I still have nightmares about my glimpse of the future where I went evil. I killed
everybody
, Uncle Adam, except for a few million slaves I kept around as toys.”

“I know. I think your alternate self saved you from that fate merely by showing it to you, which wasn’t the case with the alternate that
she
faced.”

“Except I don’t know if the warning will be enough. I could still be on a similar course, thinking I’m doing the right thing and screwing up. Every morning, I spend fifteen minutes going over my aura, looking for any hints the Outside energy has contaminated me. I’m clean so far, but I still worry.”

“We can only wait and see. Keep an eye on Mr. Martinez, since according to your doppelganger you damned yourself by trying to save him.”

“I don’t know if I can stop myself from trying to save him, if it comes to that,” she said.

Then perhaps Mr. Martinez should be removed from the equation
. The cold thought elicited little enough emotion, so Christine didn’t sense it. Both his Trent and Slaughter sides understood that sacrifices were necessary. Perhaps an accident could be arranged.

And doing so risks unhinging her at a critical time. The sheer power she will soon have access to is corrupting enough, and Mark Martinez appears to serve as an anchor of sorts for her. Removing him might be as risky as letting him be.

“Penny for your thoughts, Uncle Adam.”

He shrugged. “I was trying to think about a solution, but we truly do not have enough information. For all we know, your actions since your visit to the alternate future have already derailed the chain of events leading to it. Chaos theory suggests that’s the case.”

“Sure be nice if we knew for sure.”

“If the future were knowable, it would by definition be immutable. I don’t think that’s a desirable state.”

“True dat.”

New York City, New York, May 22, 2013

I said the words and swore the oath again, and after the ceremony was over, I paraded around for the paparazzo in my new costume, which was based off the Legion Auxiliary Forces’ battle fatigues, with a few flourishes added on, nothing too exciting. The whole thing only took an hour or so, but it bored me to tears.

After the induction ceremony, I kissed Christine goodbye and flew off to New York to visit Condor and Kestrel before my interviews. I could have flown there on my own, but my top speed was just under four hundred miles per hour, which meant it would have taken me over four hours, and the mental effort to continuously push myself through the air was not something I’d enjoy doing for four hours. Instead, I took a ride on a nice anti-grav orbital shuttle that dropped me off in the Big Apple in seventy minutes, and then I flew from the landing pad in LaGuardia to the new Condor’s Perch, on top of the Guardian Building.

It was my first time flying by myself over New York, and my first time in the city since the whole bomb mess. A news chopper came a little too close for my liking; they must have been having a slow enough day that some footage of flying faceless me was worth their trouble. I waved politely at them, repressing my impulse to give them the finger, and flew on.

Another flying figure came up to meet me: Star Eagle of the Empire State Guardians. Last time I’d seen him, he’d been beaten into a coma and hogtied with his own handcuffs. Since I’d been the responsible party for both those things, I wondered if he was going to do something about it. A Guardian would probably not be stupid enough to assault a Legionnaire in full view of God and radar, but Star Eagle had never been the sharpest crayon in the box.

My comm implant beeped, alerting me of an incoming call from the Guardian. Against my better judgment, I accepted it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” It was Star Eagle, all right.

“Just dropping by to visit Condor,” I replied pleasantly.
Asshole
.

“You’ve got balls, showing your face around here after all the shit you pulled.”

“Big misunderstanding. Didn’t you get my signed apology letter? I sent a personalized copy to each and every one of you.”

The prick was flying alongside me now, close enough I could see his glaring eyes behind his golden helmet. “Fuck your apologies. You’re not welcome at the Guardian Building.”

“I was invited by your newest member, bud. So unless you’re going to stop me, and trust me, you’re going to need a lot more than you’ve got to do that, I’ll see ya there. Do you want me to drop by your landing pad or just fly directly into Condor’s crib?”

“I don’t know how you bastards pulled it off but…”

We’d reached the Guardian Tower by that point, and I figured it was pointless to continue that conversation, so I hung up on him and flew towards the Condor Perch. Star Eagle didn’t try to stop me, which showed more sense than I’d given him credit for; if he made the first move he’d be guilty of assaulting a Legionnaire, not exactly a good career move. He’d probably hoped I would start a fight so he could have an excuse. Star Prick and the rest of the Guardians didn’t have to be friendly towards me, not in private at least; in public all costumed supers were supposed to be a big happy family. The hypocrisy of the whole setup was proving to be damn annoying.

I forgot about the Guardian and flew towards the Condor’s Perch. The high-tech thirty foot tall spire on the roof of Guardian Tower had been finished two weeks ago. As I approached, a door slid open, and I let himself in.

Both from the inside and outside, the Perch looked much like the old Lair, which was still operational after the FBI and NYPD gave it back, although supposedly they had trashed a lot of it during their no-knock raid on the premises. The Perch was all metal surfaces and high-tech furnishings, just the way its builder and resident liked it.

“Good to see you, man,” Condor said as I came to a stop and landed somewhat awkwardly on my feet. I still hadn’t worked all the kinks involved in flying. We shook hands and traded shoulder slaps. “I overheard Star Eagle. Sorry about that.”

He led me to a nicely-furnished rec room, complete with a well-stocked bar. “The prick’s still sore about the two beatings he’s taken from me,” I said as I helped myself to some fancy beer. “No big deal.” We sat down and relaxed while we talked.

“It was damn stupid for him to try and pick a fight with you, now that you’re a Type Three. From your score, you could take down the entire Guardian roster, myself included.”

I shrugged. “Maybe we can do some friendly sparring at some point. How about you, bud? How are the Guardians treating you?”

He shrugged right back. “Nobody likes the way the Mayor shoved me down their throats. The
Post
is up in arms about it; they have been trumpeting the fact I was a major contributor to the guy’s campaign last election, among other things. Kestrel got a full pictorial in the same issue they accused me of buying my way into the Guardians; they were nice pics, including some very naughty shots they had to cover up with those little black squares. It sort of backfired on them, because she actually enjoyed the publicity and she’s got more fans than ever. But yeah, there’s been a lot of ruffled feathers.”

“Self-righteous pricks,” I grumbled. “You and I have put away more criminals than all the Guardians combined.”

“Ah, but you see, the Guardian’s mandate is not to fight street crime. Our job is to stand by for major emergencies and otherwise look pretty for the cameras.”

“Which means sitting on your collective asses twenty-nine days a month while murderers and rapists do their thing. What a great gig.”

“You’re in the same boat, Face. Do you think the Legion’s going to let you sweep the streets? Any streets? New York is nowhere near the worst crime spot out there. But they aren’t going to have you patrol Bogota looking for purse snatchers, either.”

“Maybe I should do it anyway, clean up New York once and for all. I could pick up every dope dealer in the city and dump them on Hudson Bay – from five hundred feet up – in one night. Then do the same in Detroit, Chicago, Bogota, wherever.”

“Yeah, and they’d all be replaced the next night.”

“So I’ll rinse and repeat till they get message.”

“And you’ll end up with a few hundred first-degree murder charges to deal with,” Condor said. “Not going to happen, Face. And you know what? It’s probably for the best. At your power level, you can do too much damage by accident. When we were on the streets, we could take our time and make sure the people we were putting away had it coming. You try to do it wholesale, civilians are going to get caught in the crossfire. Not a good idea, man.”

“Yeah, I supposed you’re right,” I admitted. “And Christine wouldn’t like it anyway.”

Condor made a whipping motion with one hand.

“Fuck you, and look who’s talking,” I told him. “Speaking of whips, how’s your better half?”

“She’s having more issues than me. I couldn’t get the Mayor to shove her down the Guardians’ collective throat, and she wouldn’t have wanted to join up, either. Melanie just doesn’t play well with others. So we’re not seeing each other as much as we’d like; she just hates coming up here.”

That didn’t sound good at all. Left to her own devices, Kestrel would find ways to amuse herself, ways that would invariably lead to trouble. “Give her my best,” I told Condor.

“Will do. Anything else on your mind? I figure you didn’t drop by just to be social.”

“Well, I’ve got to do the news shows all day and night, so I figured I could do them in person instead of via vid-comm. And I wanted to see if you’d made any progress tracking down Mr. Night or Daedalus Smith.” The Legion was on the case, but Condor had his own contacts, including Lady Shi.

“Smith has fallen off the face of the Earth. Given his resources, his ‘Go to Hell’ plan must have been even fancier than mine. He won’t be found unless he does something stupid.”

“And Mr. Night?”

“There’s been a couple of rumored sightings, but they could be bullshit. Lady Shi’s been hopping all over the world, looking for him. As it turns out, she’s something of a psychic hound on top of her other abilities. One thing is sure: we’re not the only ones looking for him. The Iron Tsar is, too: there is a contract out for Mr. Night, and for Medved, sponsored by the Dominion and valid all over the world; fifty million dollars, by the way.”

“Nice. Not that anybody’s going to live to collect a bounty on a guy who went
mano a mano
with Janus and walked away.”

“There is that. Although if you get lucky, you might end up being set for life.”

“I’ll have to check the bylaws, but I don’t think the Legion allows us peons to collect bounties from foreign powers. That’s fine; I just got my own official action figure
and
Bobblehead Doll, and the first advance check was five times bigger than my monthly Legion stipend. Money’s not a problem anymore. Anyway, keep looking. I’ll be doing the same from my end. And when we find him, we make sure he won’t walk away.” Mr. Night was one perp I wasn’t going to even try to arrest, Legion bylaws or not.

“I hope Lady Shi gets the chance to skin him alive. She’s really got a hard-on for him.”

“How is that going, by the way?” After beating up, imprisoning and considering torturing Lady Shi, Condor and Kestrel had ended up sort of dating her, the kind of stuff that normally only happens on the letters section of BDSM magazines.

Condor actually blushed. “Do you really want to know, Face?”

“Not the gory details. Just whether or not you think she will try to kill you as soon as she has her revenge.”

“Not sure. We’re not really holding hands and exchanging gift baskets with her. It’s just sex.” Something about the way he said the words made me suspect it wasn’t just sex for him, not anymore. Along the way, she’d become a human being for him, and that could only end in tears.

“Just watch your back, and don’t ever let her tie up both of you at the same time. I don’t think she believes in safe words.”

“Neither do we, but I get your point.”

I mentally shook my head, but didn’t push the issue.

“And how is Christine?” Condor asked me, pointedly changing the subject.

“She’s good. Doing some testifying in court today, then probably hanging out with Uncle Creepy after that. She’s also doing the Top Ten List on Letterman tonight, too, via remote.”

“Neat. What’s the list?”

“Top Ten Ways to Become a Legionnaire.”

“That should be a hoot.”

“She wouldn’t show me the full list, but I’m sure it’ll be funny. I’ll get to watch the skit from the guests’ room, then I guess I’ll have to try and say something amusing about it.”

“Don’t try to be funny, Face. Just let Dave do his thing, and keep a straight no-face. And only do impressions if he asks you to.”

“I know. Other than Letterman, I’m just doing boring news shows. I got all my talking points downloaded into my comm implant; I’m going to try and bore them to death, so hopefully they’ll leave me alone after that.”

“That’s not going to help your comic book sales.”

I shrugged.
Face-Off #1
had made its glorious debut that month, and sold an underwhelming quarter of a million copies. I had a guaranteed twelve-issue run, but my royalties from the comic weren’t going to make me rich. People might buy my Bobblehead, but didn’t want to read about me. I’d looked at the galleys, and the story had been ninety percent bullshit, too. “About the only thing that’s going to help my comic book sales is a few pages of full frontal nudity featuring Hyperia.”

“Yeah; that would help anyone’s sales. What’s she like, by the way? Hyperia?”

“Actually, she’s good people. Somebody I’d like to hang out with, but she gives off a vibe Christine doesn’t like; I think Ali might be attracted to me.”

“Look at you, name-dropping and claiming Hyperia’s hot for you.”

“Hey, Christine’s the one who’s acting jealous around her. I don’t care. I’ll admit, Ali’s the kind of woman I’d like to see if I was single; she’s tough, and she doesn’t take shit from anybody. But I’m not single, so it’s irrelevant.”

“So nice of you. And boring. If you played your cards right, you’d end up in a little
ménage
with the three of you.”

“Yeah, no.” I wasn’t sure I liked how Condor was being more like himself around me.

“Boring.”

“At this point, boring is what I’m hoping for. I’ve had enough excitement to last me a lifetime.”

* * *

“You have been accused of murdering dozens of people during your years as a vigilante. How do you respond to those allegations?”

Jennie Hernandez – she made sure to roll that ‘r’ like a champ – wanted desperately to be the next Barbara Walters, Latino version. The ABC newswoman had decided to go off-script early on and play hardball. I probably should have walked out of the interview, but that would look bad, so I stayed.

“There have been no charges filed or indictments made against me, let alone any convictions,” I said in a mild tone. “I think the facts answer those allegations well enough.” Translation: nobody had linked any of a hundred and thirty-odd deaths and disappearances to me, and it was going to stay that way. So bite me.