The Genie and the Engineer 3: Ravages of War (21 page)

They went feet dry over Latvia and soon afterward ceased to
accelerate, letting gravity take full control. Indeed, they shut down
all
magical spells, initiating emission control procedures. Now they were invisible
to detection by magic as well as being nearly invisible on radar.

As they re-entered the Earth’s atmosphere, their surfaces
began to heat from air friction. To prevent any one surface from heating too
much, every Scottie began to tumble and rotate, evenly distributing the heat
load of re-entry.

Their entry path curved downward, the air resistance
gradually slowing them. Steadily, they fell toward the downtown sectors of
Moscow, the city lights becoming brighter in the distance.

Also, increasingly, they began to move apart, spreading
outward in small groups, the better to hit their assigned target coordinates.
The cool night air helped to lower their elevated skin temperatures as they
fell closer to Earth. As their ballistic courses progressed, they eventually
found themselves falling nearly vertically, the city streets and highways
rushing upward to meet them.

The 2nd Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 2nd Division, II Corps
struck first, arriving at the intersection of ulitsa Novyy Arbat and Novinskiy
Bul’var. Their cubes hurdled downward through the air, the Scotties waiting
until they were a mere ten feet off the ground before unleashing a spell that
converted their downward momentum to a horizontal velocity. Overshooting the
Russian troops of the 2nd company, 4th battalion, the Scotties sent most of the
Russian soldiers through portals to a grassy field on the island of Bezdonnoye,
in the middle of the Moskva River. Other Russians were simply rendered
unconscious with a magic spell and allowed to drop to the pavement where they
curled up, sound asleep.

Circling back, the Scotties snared the six Oni soldiers
present and thrust them screaming and kicking through a portal to Azkaban
Prison. In less than thirty seconds, the intersection was cleared of all
Russian combatants, leaving only their equipment and vehicles behind.

Other Scottie companies hit other intersections of the
Garden Ring, performing the self-same tasks. The almost instantaneous
appearance by the Scotties precluded any serious opposition by the Russians or
even the Oni stationed with them. Unit by unit, the outer ring of the Kremlin
Guard was removed from the fight.

At Red Square, a few of the units of the II Corps swept down
on the Kremlin regiment at the Kremlin Arsenal, some of the Scotties plowing
straight through the roof of the building and into the dormitories, taking the
Russians in their beds while other Scotties dealt with the soldiers stationed
outside in the streets and on the sidewalks.

Other units of the II Corps fell around Red Square itself,
taking out elements of the 3rd Battalion, Kremlin Regiment and propelling them
through portals to various pastures and clearings scattered in rural areas well
outside the Moscow city limits. All Oni were given immediate one-way-trips to
the North Sea prison, as per policy.

The 3rd and 4th Battalions of 4th Brigade, 2nd Division hit
the Presidium building, surging through all four floors, removing any and all
personnel, especially concentrating on the offices of the FSO—the Federal
Protective Service, similar to the United States Secret Service but with
greater authority and responsibilities. All human occupants of the building
were rendered unconscious and sent to the center of the Moscow Olympic Stadium
3.1 miles to the north-northeast.

In less than two minutes, the Presidium was entirely under
Scottie control.

Four battalions of 4th Brigade, 1st Division of II Corps
(1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 5th) plunged through the roofs of the Kremlin Senate
building, flooding through all three floors, sweeping the building clean of all
its inhabitants, including the Russian president and his family. In one corner
of the triangular shaped building, the Scotties met stiff resistance from
magical spells, later estimated to be the combined efforts of a wizard and two
dozen Oni. The wizard’s talisman was evaluated to be nearly as potent as their
own. Before the Scotties could trap him, however, the
Errabêlu
wizard
escaped through a portal and could not be traced.

The Scotties did catch another wizard on the second floor of
the residential section. She was asleep at the time of her capture and was
stripped of her talismans. She was transferred, under guard, to the Stadium.

Paul could see, via the microportals he used to monitor the
attack, that the objectives had been taken. Moscow was now in Scottie hands—uh,
figuratively speaking, of course.

“It’s time, Daneels,” he said to Daneel 1 and 2. Paul formed
a portal to the Stadium and marched through it.

Ω

Under the cold light of the stadium’s illumination, Paul
could see bodies everywhere, all of them lying on the Astroturf. And all of
them asleep.

Well, not quite. One feminine figure, surrounded by a ring
of Scotties, still stood. This would be the wizard captured at the Senate
building. A second figure, a large burly man a dozen yards away, argued with a
Scottie, his voice thundering in the night air, the man’s arms gesturing
wildly.

Two portals appeared a few yards away from Paul, discharging
Irona 222 and Roberta 300.

“Dad,” Roberta 300 said. “Mission accomplished. All
objectives taken. All the Kremlin Regimental soldiers have been returned to the
Kremlin Arsenal. These,” and she waved a suddenly constructed arm from the side
of her cube at all the forms sleeping on the ground around the area, “were all
captured in the Senate and Presidium buildings.”

Paul nodded. “How many Oni were sent to Azkaban?”

“Our count is four hundred and seven tonight,” Irona 222
answered.

Turning to Daneel 1, Paul said, “I was hoping to take more
wizards captive in this operation.”

Roberta 300 sighed. “They were too well prepared. I think
they were anticipating our attack.”

Paul blinked in surprise at her words. “You think someone
squealed on us?”

“No, not that,” the flustered Scottie argued. “It’s just
that so far, we have won all the battles and with hardly any effort. I mean,
we’ve taken almost no losses and they have yet to put up a credible defense
against us. Under those conditions, if I were them, I think I would have had an
escape plan well prepped and ready to go too.”

Paul recognized the truth of what she was saying. “That
makes sense.” He looked over at the wizard. “I want to speak to her in a
minute. But first, let’s get the Normals out of the way. I think you should
send them all back to their beds. Hopefully, in the morning, they will think
that this was all just a bad dream.”

It took a few minutes for the Scotties present to accomplish
that task. Since almost all of the Normals were asleep, they weren’t very much
trouble to deal with. Only the Russian president, Arkady Gaviil Chernov, was
still awake. In his case, he was still arguing vehemently with Robbie 409. Paul
watched from a safe distance as Robbie grew increasingly frustrated with the
argument.

“Я не буду
стоять здесь
и читаться
лекции потомком
обезьяны (
I will not stand
here and be lectured to by a descendant of an ape
!)” loudly shouted Robbie,
as he finally cast a spell to put the man to sleep on the Astroturf. Paul
chuckled, recognizing the quote from Max Evans on the TV show
Roswell
.

Less than a minute later, even the Russian president had
been returned to his bed.

“Are all Normals that stupid?” asked Daneel 1.

“All politicians are required to have frontal lobotomies
before running for public office,” Paul remarked, in an off-handed manner.

Daneel 1 scoffed in reply. “You’re joking again.”

Paul shrugged. “I used to think that was a joke. Now I am
not so sure.” He glanced over at the wizard. “Let’s at least go talk to someone
who is going to give us a slightly more intelligent response, shall we? Hopefully,
it will be better than talking to a wall!”

He walked over to the wizard prisoner. Tall, slim, blonde
and very attractive, her look was nevertheless full of daggers in Paul’s
direction. In return, he smiled and gave her a half bow.

“добрый
вечер (
Good evening
.)” Paul said, by way
of greeting.

“I can speak English,” she snarled back.

Paul nodded but kept his pleasant smile. “Thanks. I take it
you are not Oleg Nevsky.”

She glared at him, but refused to reply.

Daneel 1 floated closer. “We have identified her as Dusha
Nikia Belyaev.”

The wizard jerked in surprise, no doubt by the fact that a
floating cube could speak and also that the cube knew her name. Paul grinned in
amusement.

“Dusha, I am glad to meet you. Let’s go to a more private
location and have a little chat.”

“We have nothing to chat about,” Dusha responded icily.

“I think we do,” Paul countered. “My goal is to free the
Normals of this world, and I wouldn’t mind a little more information from you
to help me accomplish that before I send you to a small, gray prison cell in
the middle of the North Sea.”

Dusha glowered hostilely at him. “And your choice is to give
up this crazy scheme of yours or spend the rest of your life in a place worse
than hell itself.”

Paul’s smile was replaced by a frown. “What are you talking
about?”

She regarded him silently, her expression haughty and
disdainful.

Paul sighed and shook his head. With the wave of one hand,
he cast a new spell.

“In the names of Alexander II, Peter the Great, and Ivan the
Terrible, let there be an avatar of this wizard, to truthfully answer my
questions,” Paul cheerlessly chanted.

Startled, Dusha watched as her doppelganger formed a few
feet away. She jerked forward, as if to attack her own avatar but Paul froze
her in place with a mere raised eyebrow.

He glanced over at the avatar. “Do you swear to tell the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I do,” Dusha’s avatar emotionlessly said.

The real Dusha grimaced in distaste and anger, gritting her
teeth savagely but said nothing.

Paul nonchalantly smiled in her direction but addressed his
question to the avatar. “Tell me truthfully, what is this threat of a place
worse than hell itself?”

The avatars shook its head before answering. “We don’t know,
not exactly. In the distant past, there were two insurrections by small groups
of wizards, both times in an attempt to take control of
Errabêlu
. The
wizards involved disappeared mysteriously, never to be heard from again. It has
been said that they were trapped in an awful prison, a place so bad that they
died there.”

The real Dusha could not restrain herself. Spitting on the
ground, she added “Do you really think that
Errabêlu
will just roll over
and let you take over the world? Oh, sure, you’ve kicked us out of mother
Russia. But your efforts end soon, understand? Very soon. I strongly advise you
to stop now, before it’s too late. If you surrender now, I will put in a good
word for you. You might spend a few years in a prison but eventually, on good
behavior, they’ll let you go. Surrendering now is your best option.”

Paul pressed his lips together in a white slash, his face
reddening.

“We’re not bluffing,” the real Dusha continued sincerely but
with smugness. “Those two rebellions really happened. Other wizards were made
to disappear. The same will happen to you. This may be the only warning you get.
Surrender. It’s the smart thing to do.”

Paul shook his head, convinced that he would get no more
information out of her. With a wave of his hand, the avatar disappeared.

“Daneel 1, please have her moved to Azkaban. I’m tired of
dealing with her.”

“With pleasure,” declared Daneel 1 with a grim smile on his
holographic face.

The Saint Elias Mountains, Canada

Mount Logan Facility

Paul’s office on the 5th floor

Monday, 8:53 a.m. PDT

June

P
aul returned
to Mount Logan and soon forgot about Dusha and her vague warning. Events were
picking up speed. The mobilization orders from the countries around the globe
ceased and two countries, Poland and Venezuela, even rescinded their directives,
returning their armed forces to their home military bases. Other countries,
including Ukraine, Cuba, and Bulgaria seemed embarrassed that they had ever
issued such orders to begin with and appeared on the verge of cancelling their
operations, as soon as they could come up with a legitimate excuse to do so.

The Scotties were making considerable inroads into various
capital cities of the world. Already, they had added the capital cities of
London, New Delhi, Brasilia, Paris, Mexico City, and Cairo to their list. In
every case so far, there were no reported signs of wizards or Oni, and no
indications of any magic used in the environs.

Paul was perplexed. Yes,
Errabêlu
did not control
every country in the world—only the richest and most powerful ones. But there
had been wizards in some of these countries before the Scotties had attacked.
Where had they gone?!

Something was going on. A sense of concern and yes, even
alarm touched him more and more often these days.
Errabêlu
was getting
ready to do something dreadful. He could sense it. But what?

Ω

It was just after lunch when a Scottie popped into the room
near the west wall and floated in Paul’s direction, toward his desk. He
recognized the face on the hologram above her cube, one of the Rommie series.
The number displayed in the cube’s corner was 451.

That was when he remembered. Rommie 451 was the Scottie that
he had assigned as team leader to Project Narcissus (named after the mythical
Greek hunter who fell in love with his own reflection). This was a small team
of Scotties selected to explore the best alternatives of how to deal with, on a
long term basis, the wizards of
Errabêlu
.

So far, Rommie 451 and her team had come up with a number of
ideas and then, after closer examination, discarded most of them. Thus far, her
team had not come up with any ideas that even Paul approved of, let alone what
Capie might find acceptable.

One of the least objectionable of their ideas was to strand
the evil wizards in deserted locations around the globe. Paul had placed Hamadi
and his Oni in such a location, in stasis fields under thirty feet of ocean. Still,
Paul considered such a solution to be temporary at best. He had read too many
books, seen too many movies where a danger from the past was accidently
revived. The 1956
Godzilla
movie came to mind, but there were scores of
other examples. No, he wanted something much more permanent—an ultimate
solution up to but not including murder. That far he would not go. And whatever
solution they came up with, Paul would somehow have to get Capie to agree with
the idea.

Paul raised his eyebrows on Rommie 451’s approach.

“Rommie 451? How are things going?” he asked, grateful for
the chance to take a break from the paperwork he was immersed in.

The image of the pretty brunette holograph poised above her
black cube produced a big smile. “Just peachy, Dad. Just peachy. For a change,
I actually have good news to report. So good, in fact, that I thought I would
come personally here to tell you about it.”

Daneel 1 floated closer to them but didn’t say anything.

Paul laid down his iPad. “By all means, please tell me about
it.”

“It was one of the wilder ideas we came up with. Talos 22
actually suggested it first, back when we were on Mars, but we weren’t able to
explore it properly or test it out until we came to Earth.”

Some people just loved to drag things out as much as
possible. Paul nodded patiently, waiting for Rommie 451 to continue.

Which, after another smile, she did. “You see, back on Mars,
we only had two human beings to observe: you and Mom. And both of you were
wizards. So we couldn’t really look at the so-called mental barrier, the one
that keeps Normals from using their magical powers because neither one of you
had one. It was only after we came to Earth that the opportunity to examine the
barriers of Normals really arose. And we have done so! We’ve looked at
thousands of Normals! Or more specifically, their mental barriers. And we have
compared them with the mental pathways used by the wizards of
Errabêlu
and of course, you and Mom.”

Paul cocked his head to one side. “Are you suggesting that
we might somehow be able to reinstall the mental barriers in a wizard’s brain,
to turn him back into a Normal again? Jaret told me that was impossible.”

“And we agree. Re-establishing the mental barriers appears
to be impossible,” Rommie responded smugly. “At least, not without killing the
wizard involved. But there is another option. You see, we have identified a
hundred or so key neural links associated with the use of magic. Synapses that
are common to every wizard we’ve checked so far.”

Paul blinked. If what Rommie was saying was true enough… “Are
you suggesting that you can burn out those neural links?”

Rommie giggled pleasantly. “Yeah, that is exactly what we
propose. We’ve mapped the links in question, just to be sure they don’t involve
autonomic functions like breathing or cardiac activity. And they don’t. They
don’t seem to be involved in functions of intelligence either, such as memory,
imagination, speech generation or such. So taking the key neural paths out that
we’ve identified shouldn’t impact a wizard in any other way. Just permanently
turn him into a Normie.”

Stunned, Paul sat back in his seat blinking and then
abruptly barked with laughter. When he managed to get control of himself again,
he asked. “Can you really do it? When will you be ready to try it?”

“We think we can,” Rommie cautiously replied. “It will not
be easy. We must first reduce the wizard in question to a temporary comatose
state and use a team of Scotties to implement the procedure, flash burning out
the synapses all at once. But yes, once we have established the correct
procedure, perhaps in a week or two, we should be ready to test it on our first
subject and with a high chance of success.”

Paul grinned wildly. “What perfect poetic justice! After all
their arrogance! All the murders of Normals that they have committed! To have
their powers of magic stripped of them, to turn them back into
Normals
again! Rommie, that is sheer genius! Daneel, make a note of this. I want Rommie
here and Talos 022 to be promoted, at the first opportunity. I absolutely
love
this option!”

Daneel 1 seemed a little less than delighted. “It hasn’t
been tested yet, obviously.”

Paul sobered somewhat. “Yeah, true, not yet. Daneel, let’s
make Hamadi and that Chinese wizard, what’s his name, the first two guinea
pigs. Send a small team to the Indian Ocean, to Cartier Island. Recover Hamadi
and his Oni. Take them to Azkaban and set up the test. Ooh, Capie is going to
love this idea too!”

“Yuan Wu is the name of the other wizard,” Daneel 1 muttered
to the ceiling.

“Ah, Dad?” Rommie 451 interrupted. “There are two little
details I should mention first.”

Paul calmed down, forcing himself to wait patiently again.
“Two details?”

“Yes. First, the effect will be permanent,” she explained,
in an apologetic manner. “Even re-growing the neurons shouldn’t be enough to
re-establish the pathways. Once a wizard is turned into a Normal again, there
is no way on Earth to reverse the process.”

Paul responded to his information with a chuckle.
“Excellent. I actually prefer that end result. What is the second detail?”

“You once told us that you employed a spell to help yourself
become smarter,” Rommie explained, with a tight smile. “And that it hurt like
the dickens too. Well, when we burn out these neural links and the wizard wakes
up, he’s going to have the king of all headaches. It’ll make the ones you had
look like a long pleasant soak in a bubble bath by comparison!”

Paul laughed and slapped a knee. “That’s just great, Rommie!”
he cried. “It’s perfect! It couldn’t be any better than that! Daneel, arrange
with Daryl 71 for Rommie and Talos 22 to have access to Hamadi and Wu at the
prison for evaluation as soon as possible.”

Paul turned back to Rommie. “Take a careful look at both of
them. Don’t tell them what you are doing. Oh, and don’t burn out their neural
links just yet. I want to talk to both of them first before you turn them into
Normals.” He positively cackled with glee, rubbing both hands together
joyfully.

“Thanks, Dad!” Rommie 451 replied enthusiastically. “It will
work!”

“Keep me apprised,” Paul said, picking up his iPad again, a
big silly grin on his face. “Let me know when you are ready to do it for real.”

Ω

That evening, as Paul was working on additional paperwork, a
microportal opened in the room above his head. Across the table from him,
Daneel 1 rotated slightly in place, as if listening to something.

“What’s up, Daneel?” Paul asked.

“Daneel 7 reports from Washington DC that there is something
mysterious going on in the state of Virginia. Oh, my! Dad! He reports that he
sent 1st platoon, 2nd Company, 3rd Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 1st Division out on
reconnaissance. They were cut off in mid-communication and now cannot be
raised! He fears that they might have been taken prisoner. Or worse!” Daneel
paused. “He wants to know what you want him to do.”

A whole platoon. Gone. The words struck like a dagger into
Paul’s heart. He knew from the beginning that taking on
Errabêlu
might
not be easy, that there might be dangers involved. He also knew that not all
his Scotties might make it through the war alive. But all that knowledge was an
intellectual exercise. His heart told him something totally different.

“Tell Daneel 7 that we want him here in Mount Logan, as fast
as he can get here,” Paul told the Scottie, a degree of panic already
descending upon him.

Daneel 7, when he arrived, was escorted straight to the
Situation Room, where Paul and Daneel 1 were waiting for him.

“I was sending out patrols around the Beltway, just to keep
an eye on things,” reported Daneel 7, commanding officer of the I Corps, 1st Division,
2nd Brigade. “One of those patrols, commanded by Bishop 911, reported sensing
strong magic spells being used to the southwest of the city.” Daneel 7 paused a
moment before continuing. “I…sent them to investigate. The closer they got to
Centreville, the more magic they detected in use. Lots of portals but other
spells too.”

He paused again, finding it difficult to relate the story.

“I should have sent more Scotties. At least a Battalion. But
instead, I thought a small group, if they were sneaky enough…”

“Daneel 7,” Paul said sympathetically. “Don’t second guess
yourself. You don’t know if even a Battalion would have been enough. We might
have lost a lot more Scotties. Don’t blame yourself.”

Daneel 7 sighed unhappily. “They were following US Highway
29, Lee’s Highway. As best we can tell, they had just passed Cub Run Stream
when…when communications were cut off suddenly.”

“Any sign of alarm, any warning at all?” Daneel 1 asked.

“None at all,” responded Daneel 7 sullenly. “No indication
that they knew anything bad was about to happen.”

Paul walked over to the map display on the north wall and
called up the map of the Greater Washington DC area, including the Virginia
countryside. 

“And the magic spells being used in Virginia?” Paul asked.

“Still there, only stronger now,” Daneel 7 answered. “I have
the 4th Battalion, positioned just east of Fairfax, monitoring the situation.
There has been a steady increase in magical energy expended. As best we can
tell, it is coming from near the Manassas National Battlefield Park.”

The name ‘Manassas’ rang a bell but Paul didn’t seem able to
place the significance thereof.

“Manassas?” Paul asked.

“United States Civil War,” Daneel 1 answered. “As I’m sure
you remember, you asked us to study the history of warfare. I believe Ulysses
18,” (1987 film
Making Mr. Right
) “is our best expert on that particular
conflict.”

Paul rubbed his jaw. “Please find out if he is available.”

“Acknowledged.” He paused a moment to relay the request then
said, “He will be with us in a few moments. In the meantime, Dad, since this
involves questions of magic, may I suggest you ask Merlin if he would help us
out too?”

“Hmm, I guess when I was on Mars, I got out of the habit of
calling on Merlin. But in this case, it’s a good idea,” Paul agreed. “I haven’t
seen him in quite a while. Merlin? Are you available?”

Merlin popped into the center of the room, wearing a Union
blue, brigadier general’s Civil War uniform complete with blouse and all the
gold braid and the double row of buttons. He was also fully armed with a .58
caliber Model 1861 Springfield rifle musket, a .44 caliber Colt Army Model 1860
pistol tucked into his wide leather belt, and a curved sword hanging in a
scabbard at his left side. On his belt on his right side hung a cartridge pouch
and a smaller percussion cap pouch. On his head was perched a blue kepi hat.

“It’s about time you called for my help,” Merlin admonished him.
“I’m ready to fight, as you can see. Where do we start?”

“We need to understand what’s going on, Merlin,” Paul said,
suddenly remembering the conversation with Dusha. Was this event somehow
related to her fuzzy warning? “Somehow,
Errabêlu
took out a platoon of
Scotties and did it so quickly that they had no clue it was about to happen. If
they could do that to a platoon, could they do that to a company? Or a brigade?
Perhaps an entire Corps?”