The Genie and the Engineer 3: Ravages of War (24 page)

“Where is Ulysses 18?” Paul shouted anxiously.

“Here, sir,” Ulysses 18 replied, floating quickly across the
grass in Paul’s direction.

He jerked a finger in the direction of the map. “How far
east along the railroad embankment did “Stonewall” Jackson position his
troops?”

“Up to the intersection of the railroad with the
Manassas-Sudley Road,” Ulysses replied. “The same place that Roberta 300 was
attacked.”

Just wonderful
! Paul inwardly screamed.
Now he
tells me
!

“Daneel!” he howled. “Tell Lisa 486 she has found the left
flank of the enemy. Tell her to attack with everything she’s got and to push
forward as hard as she can. Get Roberta 300 evacuated back to Mount Logan! And
tell Lisa to keep us informed!”

Ω

At 7:40 hours, 68 miles due east of downtown Washington DC,
on the empty beaches north of the small town of Claiborne, Maryland, Jarvis 186
waited with the Scotties of I Corps, 1st Division, 1st and 2nd Brigades
watching the sun go down over the black waters of Chesapeake Bay.

“People, listen up!” he yelled, with a magically amplified
voice. “Now all of you know the plan but let me go over it again, just for my
peace of mind, shall we? Pay attention. We are here, on the east side of the
Chesapeake Bay because it puts us far enough over the curve of the Earth that
Errabêlu
,
near Manassas Battlefield National Park, cannot detect our portals. In short,
they don’t know we are here. We will string out along the beach to the north
and south and then launch in a few minutes, using a low magic energy path upward
to 80 miles in altitude. Hopefully, as we rise above the curve of the Earth, we
will be using so little energy and we will be so widely spread out, that they
can’t detect us. Once we reach target altitude, we will further reduce our
energy emissions and drift westward, until we are over the Potomac. From there,
we will let gravity take over, which will bring us down in a parabolic path
down on top of Stony Ridge. If we do this right, they will never see us
coming.” He paused. “Are there any questions? No? Good. You all know your
assignments. Don’t mess this up people or you will not like the consequences.
Fear me more than the enemy. Got it? Dad is counting on us and the I Corps will
not let him down! Is that clear?”

In unison, they all screamed, “Clear, Sir!”

A large clock appeared in mid-air in front of Jarvis 186.

“Lift off in ten minutes!” he screamed. “It’s time to get
into your positions. Assume launch formation! And run final diagnostics!”

He watched closely as over 6,000 Scotties arranged
themselves into a north-south line, spaced roughly ten feet apart.

Internally, he checked bus voltages, core temperatures, and
event logs. Everything looked clean. Nervously, he watched his internal clock
click down.

At 7:49 p.m., he turned back to I Corps, 1st Division.

“Standby!” he yelled. “Thirty seconds to launch!…Twenty!…Ten!”

“Lift-off!” screamed Jarvis 186, and all 6,000 Scotties
began accelerating straight up at exactly 1.5 gee.

With growing speed they continued upward, accelerating
swiftly into the twilight. They passed 1 mile in just 20 seconds, 5 miles in 45
seconds, 30 miles in 110 seconds and began to arch their path over slightly to
the west.

With a gravity assisted turn completed, they stopped
accelerating, now moving at 2,000 feet per second, slowly pulling together to
form a disc formation. They went feet dry just north of Galesville, Virginia
still heading due west.

In another two minutes, they would shut-down all their magic
spells, becoming virtually undetectable.

Or so they hoped.

Ω

The time was 7:59 p.m. Less than one minute to go before the
attack was to have begun. No one west of Stony Ridge knew that the battle was
already underway on the east side, near Sudley Springs. Twiki 586 with 3rd
Brigade and Alpha 505 with 4th Brigade were spread out along a line southwest
of Stony Ridge, using what tree cover was available.

All they could detect up the slope was cleared fields and a
couple of homes. Everything else seemed to be hidden by the downpour of rain
and the darkness. Even the street lights in the area seemed ineffective at
illuminating the neighborhood.

It was time.

“Attack!” they yelled in unison, unleashing a spell in front
of them that would have rendered a flock of bull elephants unconscious. Then
they and their brigades advanced.

Without warning, a barrage of plasma fire met them head on.

Ω

Two thousand feet further north, Daneel 7, Lenore 86, and
1st Brigade of 2nd Division advanced from the west, out of the creek-bed of the
Little Bull Run. They too made little progress across the open fields before
meeting a horrendous wave of plasma fire.

Ω

Jarvis 186 and 1st Division had followed their ballistic
course, passing back into the lower atmosphere almost directly above Stony
Ridge. They played the part of dumb falling rocks really well, rapidly
approaching ground level at the top of the ridge, falling straight into the
dense black clouds of the raging storm.

And then, suddenly, before they could react, a huge maw of
nothingness opened up before them inside the cloud bank and swallowed 1,234
Scotties of I Corps, mostly from the center of the group. The rest emerged from
the clouds directly above the ridge into a huge volley of plasma fire.

Neither Jarvis 186 nor Dorian 223 was among them.

Ω

“Dad!” shrieked Daneel 1, above the noise of the now howling
wind and thunder. “2nd Division of I Corps reports very heavy plasma fire on
the northwest and southwest approaches to Stony Ridge! 1st Division of I Corps
reports some sort of portal opened up and swallowed almost a third of their
Division! Sir, Jarvis 186 is not answering! All communication with him has been
lost!”

To the northwest, Paul could see the storm swiftly
intensifying, lightning flashing through the black clouds continuously now, the
roll of thunder a constant roar, like an old steam locomotive at breakneck
speed.

“Who’s left in charge?” Paul roared.

“Jenny 199,” (TV series
My Life As a Teenage Robot)
“reports very heavy plasma fire as well!” he shouted. “They are unable to
descend below 500 feet above the ridge!”

It made no sense! How was
Errabêlu
able to put up
this much of a fight? A couple of hundred wizards and a few thousand Oni? They
couldn’t possibly have the talismans necessary for the magic needed. The
Scotties should have crushed them within the first few seconds of the battle!
And a third of I Corps, 1st Division gone! Just like that?! How? A profound
sense of panic gripped him as he struggled to understand what was happening.
Paul pressed his palms hard up against his temples, trying to stop the
throbbing headache that had suddenly developed.

“Sir, do you want us to withdraw?” yelled Daneel 1.

Paul was on the verge of ordering just that. After all, it
was his beloved Scotties that were disappearing, maybe dying.

But the stakes here were incredibly high. If he withdrew the
Scotties, the war might actually be lost altogether. The lives of millions of
Normals depended on his getting this decision right. So he instead held up a
hand. He needed time to
think
!

“Get a report from Lisa 486 first!” he shouted, above the
noise of the constant thunder.

Ω

After dealing with the five Oni that had attacked them and
knocked out Roberta 300, Lisa 486 had quickly formed the Scotties into a broad
formation and ordered them to advance with shields raised. The trees and forest
growth was an impediment but they made steady progress, breaking free and over
the Sudley Road less than a minute later.

The far side was mostly an open field for 600 feet. Lisa
took an instant dislike for the open ground.

“Portal across!” she sternly transmitted.

She popped through a portal, emerging just shy of the forest
on the west side.

Her shields were instantly hit with plasma fire. Instantly,
she fired back, doing her best to render the enemy unconscious, as per standing
orders. For whatever reason, it was taking the combined magical energy of
multiple Scotties to render even this one single Oni insensible. From the five
Oni that they had already captured, she knew that the enemy’s talismans were
inferior to her own. How in the blue blazes did they resist the Scottie’s
spells with inferior talismans?

The Scotties’ shields held and Lisa 486, with the 1st
Division, advanced relentlessly, yard-by-yard disposing of the Oni in their
path.

Ω

“1st Division, II Corps is advancing down the railroad bed!”
Daneel 1 shouted. “Apparently, you were correct about it being the
Errabêlu
left flank! But Lisa 486 reports that the individual Oni are incredibly
resistant!”

Paul watched as a funnel cloud formed northwest of Manassas,
the spiraling shape barely discernible against the horizon. Beneath him, he
could feel the trembling of the Earth itself.

And
still
it made no sense to him! Where was the
power coming from?
Errabêlu
couldn’t have enough talismans to do this!
Not without rare isotopes! And Paul felt certain that they didn’t have that
secret, not yet anyway! Without the power of rare isotopes, it would take a
talisman the size of—”

Without warning, the answer leapt suddenly into his head.
Oh, what an
idiot
he was! How stupid could a man
get
?

“Daneel! They must be using the Earth itself as a talisman!”
he shouted, confident that he had finally latched onto the right answer.

“The Earth? But how? It’s not homogeneous enough!” the
Scottie shouted back. “The lithosphere or crust is badly segmented and there
aren’t any really large rocks here. They would have to…oh…oh…I think I see! The
upper
mantle
!”

Paul nodded as it all came together for him. The wizards of
Errabêlu
must have drilled a hole down through the Earth, past the lithosphere. Most
likely they were tapping the upper mantle also known as the Asthenosphere
which, according to the one geology class he’d taken as a college elective, was
fifty or sixty miles down. Great Lords of Kobol, if they could do that, then
the power they could wield would greatly dwarf the Scotties’ own!

How did they fight that? Overwhelming panic stalked him
openly, threatening to drown him in a sea of insanity.

“Dad!” Daneel yelled. “Lenore 86 reports that a huge portal
opened up and swallowed hundreds of her Scotties and even a few Oni! Sir, she
requests permission to withdraw!”

What to do? There seemed nowhere to turn! All of their plans
and schemes, all the simulations that they had run on Mars…nothing had prepared
them for anything like this! His Scotties were being swept from the battlefield
in group lots! The war was lost! Paul’s body froze in place and he found
himself gripped by panic, unable to speak a word. Disaster loomed before him, a
bottomless pit of blackness at his feet.

But his mind was still active, spinning like a dynamo as it
continued to search frantically for an answer, his thoughts flashing wild ideas
out by the score. True, there might not be many
Errabêlu
wizards, but if
they had tapped the upper mantle of the Earth, then the Scotties were doomed!
They stood no chance of winning this battle. Not unless they had a talisman as
potent—

The sudden idea slammed him upside the head. It was stunning
in its simplicity. Would it really work? Could it be as simple as all that?

“Daneel! Gort!” Paul yelled frantically, suddenly able to
use his voice again. “Get 4th Brigade of 1st Division to start a hole toward
the center of the Earth, now! Right here! It doesn’t have to be large! And
weave a series of carbon nanotubes down through the hole to the Earth’s lower
mantle!”

“But Dad! That’s hundreds of miles down!” protested Daneel
1. “It could take days! And what good would that do us, if they are using the
lower mantle instead of the upper one against us?”

Paul turned to the cube, gesturing wildly. “And why should
they use the one that is more difficult to reach? No, I’m sure I’m right! Go
for the lower mantle!”

Daneel blinked and considered the issue. “Yeah, sure, Dad!
We’ll start immediately!”

“Tell them to hurry!” Paul bellowed hysterically. “We have
to buy time for this to work! Arcee 77! 3rd Brigade is with me!”

Ω

Vincent 286 and 3rd Brigade, 2nd Division, I Corps were
running nine minutes late, mostly due to their slow progress through the thick
rocky ground between the Quarry and Stony Ridge. They emerged into the center
of a scene straight from Dante’s Inferno itself.

Darkness reigned everywhere except when bolts of lightning
lit the landscape, like a series of giant strobes. The storm was raging
ferociously, hailstones the size of softballs careening through the hurricane
force winds. Half a dozen tornadoes were dancing around the ridge, wildly
flinging debris and hard stinging rain like bullets in all directions. The
ground shook continuously in a constant earthquake. The Scotties of I and II
Corps were flying madly around, dodging a colossal number of impossibly large and
potent plasma bolts. A few Oni bodies lay motionless on the ground, surrounded
by a much larger number of immobile black cubes.

Vincent 286 and his troops entered the fray, fighting back
tenaciously.

A huge portal opened up on the southwest corner of the
ridge, swallowing another 789 Scotties and a dozen Oni, before collapsing
inward.

Vincent 286 didn’t notice, the battle too intense, too loud
and too disorganized. He and the remainder of 3rd Brigade, 2nd Division, I
Corps fought on.

Manassas Battlefield National Park, Virginia

Stony Ridge

Wednesday, 8:15 p.m. EDT

June

“B
ut sir! You
can’t go!” adamantly shouted Daneel 1.

“I agree!” Gort 737 yelled, adding his two cents.

“‘The avalanche has started! It is too late for the pebbles
to vote!’” Paul screamed back at them madly, quoting Kosh of
Babylon 5
.
“This time I am needed there! Drill that hole, Daneel. We’re buying time with
the lives of Scotties here!” Paul turned to Arcee 77. “Move it, Commander or
I’ll find a Scottie that will!”

3rd Brigade of 1st Division did indeed follow him through
several portals, emerging onto the narrow blacktop of Featherbed Lane, east
southeast of Stony Ridge. Even here, the wind was blowing at gale force
strength, the rain moving horizontally like bullets from an army of machine
guns, the earth quivering like Jell-O.

Why had Paul brought 3rd Brigade here? The answer was that
this section of road was north of the unfinished railroad, the one that Lisa
was making such decent progress advancing down. It was his belief that
Errabêlu
had taken a page from history and positioned defensive troops all along the
railroad, hoping that the Scotties would move in from Washington DC and attack
along the same path as General John Pope, specifically from Lee’s Highway
towards the northwest, across the open fields on the south side of the railroad
bed. If true, there were Oni just to the south of Paul’s location now but
facing in the other direction.

By coming here, it was his hope to bypass the
Errabêlu
defenses on the railroad and approach Stony Ridge from an undefended quarter.
Lisa 486 and 1st Division could deal with the Oni on the railroad.

Paul spun in place, turning toward the west-northwest,
toward what they could see was the worst of the storm. The scope and violence
of it gave even him pause. But only for a moment. His Scotties were in there,
fighting for their lives. Paul could not let them down. They needed him!

“This way, everybody!” he screamed above the roar of the
wind.

For 300 yards, their progress was unimpeded by
Errabêlu
but contested every step of the way by the increasingly violent weather. Paul
had trouble envisioning how his Scotties were coping up there on Stony Ridge,
in the thick of the fighting.

The small voice in the back of his mind screamed at him in
total hysteria. Had he made yet another mistake? Perhaps he should have pulled
everybody out of the area?
Errabêlu
could not have followed, not if Paul
were correct about the tap deep through the Earth’s lithosphere down to the upper
mantle. They could hardly drag that with them in order to chase the Scotties.
Paul could have withdrawn to a safe distance, drilled his own tap to the lower mantle,
negated their advantage and then attacked at the time of his own choosing.

Logically, that would have been the correct course to have
taken. But in his heart, Paul knew it would have been the wrong decision. Even
during a withdrawal, more Scotties would have been snatched up before they
could have gotten clear. And then, after a withdrawal, all the Scotties that
had been taken might never be recovered. It was a gamble on his part, the
largest gamble he had ever made in his entire life. He was risking that by
staying in the fight, he and the remaining Scotties could buy enough time for
Daneel 1 to negate
Errabêlu
’s power and, at the same time, allow Paul
the chance to find and rescue the missing Scotties. Sure, the engineer in him
said that those Scotties were probably gone forever, destroyed by the evil
powers of
Errabêlu
. But his heart said no, that he had to hold on to
hope, that he needed to take the chance for their sake, even if it endangered
more Scotties in the process. Paul had to try to rescue the missing ones—or at
least know for sure what had happened to them. He owed them that, as their
creator and father. They deserved not to be left behind. More, they deserved
his very best effort to save them, if it was even remotely possible.

And, most important, Paul knew that his place was here, in
the center of this battle. Oh, no doubt, Capie would have demanded that he not
go, that he keep himself safe behind the lines, directing the battle as its
commander-in-chief. Yet, somehow Paul instinctively knew that if he had stayed
at the Manassas Regional Airport, the cost of success would have been much
greater. Again, this decision made no sense in the light of reason or logic. He
only knew, in his heart that it was true. It was a matter of life or death that
he be here, now, in the thick of the battle. There were decisions to be made,
actions to take, and the only way to make absolutely certain that everything
humanly possible had been tried was to go himself.

It was the ultimate in commitment, to himself, to his
Scotties and to the Normals of Earth. They were going to win this battle or he
was going to die trying.

Ω

With shields raised, Paul led 3rd Brigade through the woods
and up the east side of Stony Ridge.

Except for flashes provided by the lightning, the light was
non-existent. With the torrential rain, huge hailstones, and winds exceeding
most category five hurricanes, Paul knew that no unprotected Normal could
survive such conditions for more than a few seconds.

Boosting the shields around him, Paul launched himself
forward into the battle.

Arcee 77 stayed with him, guarding his right side. As Paul
cast a spell to enhance his ability to see, he immediately saw two Oni almost
directly in front of him, battling three Scotties.

The sight of that confrontation made him gasp. Three
Scotties should have quickly made mincemeat out of two Oni yet these two were
easily standing their ground. Somehow they were tapping into the energy of the
Earth’s upper mantle, though how they were doing so mystified Paul to no end.
But that problem was for later. Act now, analyze later!

Raising his arm, Paul screamed the Rebel Yell at the top of
his lungs and cast a spell to render the two Oni unconscious. He saw them
stagger then turn to face him. He repeated the spell again and was gratified to
see the Oni on the right buckle to his knees. The wind caught that Oni,
throwing him through the air. Then Arcee 77 launched her spell, simultaneously
with the other three Scotties. The other Oni too succumbed, the wind lifting
him off the ground and tossing him through the air like a rag-doll.

Dodging the hail and plasma bursts, they quickly moved on to
the next set of targets.

Thus began Paul’s nightmare in the Third Battle of Manassas.
For what seemed like hours, he and the Scotties waged a seemingly hopeless
battle against impossible odds. And as they did, Paul’s anger grew. Each
Scottie was a living person to him, one that he had helped bring into the
universe. How dare the evil of
Errabêlu
attack them or damage them in
any way!

It may have seemed like hours but was in reality only
minutes, as they fought the Oni tenaciously and, at the same time, fighting the
weather. There was little chance for a concerted coordinated action, the sheer
chaos and speed of the battle just didn’t permit it. Instead, it was pretty
much each individual on his own, defending himself while doing his best to
attack the enemy.

Paul saw hundreds of Scotties on the ground and hundreds
more struck from the skies, sometimes by hailstones but more often from flying
plasma bolts. And each time Paul saw an injured Scottie, a deep sense of loss
and pain stabbed him in the heart. With every step, he questioned his judgment.
Had he made the right decision? Even now, should he cut their losses and
withdraw, before they lost even more Scotties?

The utter pandemonium of the battle, the rapid casting of
high energy spells to both defend and attack worked to exhaust him. With
growing weariness, he savagely fought on.

And then, without the least degree of warning, a huge black
portal opened up in front of him and snapped up everyone in the vicinity.