SCUTA
LAURA
Of all the people with shield powers in the city, not even Derek could deflect an artillery barrage. He might manage one shell, perhaps, but it would have knocked his reservoir all the way into the red, like when he caught that building. And yet, we needed some way of blocking them. It was inevitable the city would be shelled, and our point-defenses would barely catch a fraction.
I was proud of my solution.
I was also terrified of it.
We sat in one of the war rooms of NHQ. It was a large and fortified chamber with countless computer screens on the wall and a real-time tactical table in the middle. The table was updated on the fly by MC’s programs, using information from all over the city. Akane and Flynn were there, in addition to myself, Butler, Clarke, and about a dozen of their aides.
And, of course, the Shield Wall.
That’s what we were calling them, because it was just the only thing we could think of. Thirty-six shield-producers like Derek were sitting on the floor in a ring around the war table. Each one had someone standing behind them, hands on the shielders’ temples, concentrating as hard as they could.
Those were telepaths, the best and most trustworthy ones we could find in the city. They used their powers to connect the shielders to themselves and each other, creating a hive mind. It was like what the pod-brains used, but this time made up of seventy-two people.
“Shield Wall,” I said. “What is the status of the barrier?”
One of the girls spoke in a flat tone without opening her eyes. “Barrier is stable. Sectors A-17, A-18, B-29, and C-09 are under fire, but holding. Enemy fire has been reduced, and is virtually non-existent in all other sectors.”
This hive mind was an invaluable field asset, but I was worried about side effects, both long-term and short-term. What would happen when we tried to untangle them? They could all die, or just refuse altogether. Would the other members of the hive remember Derek’s secrets even after they were separated? Would Derek even be the same person?
I touched the ring on my necklace. I had just got him. I had waited nearly my entire life, and I had finally got that idiot to pay attention to me as a woman. Had I just killed him, all for some momentary tactical advantage?
I closed my eyes. No matter what happened, I would not apologize for saving this city.
I opened my eyes and managed a smile. “So the Dagonites took down the fleet.”
“White-Cap Bay is their territory,” Butler said. “The fleet was an insult.”
I scanned the war table. “They’ve still got more ships afloat than I’d like. MC, what’s the status of those?”
“They’ve repulsed the Dagonites,” she said, her voice coming through the wall speakers. “I’m not sure how. Maybe they got lucky and saw them in the water before they set the bombs, started shooting or something. I don’t know. They’ll have to retreat once the Dagonites regroup, but that will be at least a few hours.”
I nodded. “Shield Wall. How long can the barrier last at current attack rate?”
A different shielder spoke up, with the exact some dull tone. “Approximately three-point-seven hours.”
I frowned. “Cutting it a little close.”
Clarke looked up. “Could the Atlanteans help?”
I scowled. “Yes, they could. But they won’t. They think they’re safe on the damn ocean floor. I half hope one of the sinking ships squashes them.” I tapped at the war table, and it reconfigured to overlay the location of the Atlantean cities. “Nope, they’ll be fine. I guess I should be happy.”
“Besides, they’re busy fighting off the Rahabs,” Butler said. “Blame them if you wish the Atlanteans could join the fight.” He thought for a moment. “MC, call up the kelpie warlords. Ask them the exact path the ships would be forced to flee on.”
I raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t elaborate. How would this help us drive them off faster? Whatever.
I sighed and turned back to the board. “Demon Gate is holding strong.”
One of Butler’s aides—a demon, funnily enough—stepped forward. “The Erlking reports that the stoneshapers are invaluable. He thanks the Gravers for organizing this so quickly. He also says…” She checked her pads. “’Ripping apart their silly robots is far too much fun.’”
I frowned. “Robots? The US has robots?”
“Mechanized heavy battle armor,” Butler said.
“Oh. Echoes.” I shrugged. “Not robots, but whatever. I imagine they’re sending those at every gate?”
Butler nodded. “West Gate isn’t quite as successful as South, but the giants are holding strong. At last report, Odin said they managed to cut the army in two. They’re actually capturing soldiers alive.”
“Excellent. That will play well on the news.” I tapped East Gate, which showed an angry red scar reaching nearly a mile into the city. “What about the vampires? I’m still worried they let the enemy get too far in.”
Butler smirked. “That’s the perfect word. ‘Let.’ They knew that ambushing at the gate itself would be too costly, so they drew them to spread their forces thin, and are now striking at targets of opportunity. The enemy seems to be terrified and demoralized.”
I sighed. “There’s going to be a lot of property damage once this is over. They still haven’t finished repairing from the Rampage.”
“I’ll offer tax breaks to anyone who helps rebuild at reduced rates. I should extend that to the rest of the city…” He sighed. “Worries for another time. Right now, my bigger concern is North Gate.”
North Gate, also known as Beast Gate, Kemo Gate, and the Sprawl. It was a maze of tiny alleys and confused buildings, some of which had managed to partially collapse into each other over the years. The place barely had any streets, because the kemos of the area preferred to travel by rooftops.
We had expected that it would be easy to hold, but that was proving incorrect.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, as I observed the glowing red wound on the city. It was spreading farther and wider than it should. At least the vampires were keeping the intruders confined to a few single streets. “The kemos should never have let them run free like this.”
“Here, miss,” an aide said, as she handed me a pad.
I glanced through it. “Field report from Delia. She’s crediting the echoes.”
Butler sighed. “They were designed for urban warfare. Superheavy infantry, capable of breaching buildings and weathering moderately heavy fire. We should have seen this coming.”
I shook my head. “They shouldn’t even be able to get inside the buildings. What are the kemos doing, throwing rocks at them? Bottle them up and pour fire at them until they go away.” I read a bit more. “Ah, here’s the problem: A bunch of idiots tried to take them out hand-to-hand.”
“It worked in South Gate,” Clarke said.
“For the Erlking,” I said. “None of the kemos have that kind of raw physical power.” I paged through it a bit more. “Let’s see… yes, they fell back and started using ambush tactics, but by that point the invaders had a foothold.” I sighed. “The kemos are winning, but slowly and expensively.”
Another aide handed Butler a pad. “The Gatorcroc says he can drop a building on them, if necessary.”
I closed my eyes. “Does he even understand the phrase ‘collateral damage?’”
“Probably not.”
I thought about it. “Akane.”
She perked up. “Yes?”
“How fast can your kensei get to North Gate?”
“I can have ten men there in ten minutes.”
I nodded. “It will do. Send them. Tell them to focus on the echoes, then retreat to the warlords and request further instructions. They’re a fire team, we need them at hotspots the kemos can’t handle on their own.”
She nodded and stepped aside for some privacy as she pulled out her phone.
“We should have sent the kensei up earlier,” Butler said.
“You agreed to keep displays of powers to a minimum.”
“They should have been ready, though.” He turned back to the map. “But that’s not an issue any more. We need to figure out what to do with North Gate. They’re too dug in. The kemos will take heavy losses if they attack.”
“Bomb them,” I suggested. “Soften them up for the kemos to finish them off.”
He shook his head. “Not with the shield up. I don’t want to worry about them hitting it.”
I took a deep breath. “We have some people with invisibility. Not many, but—”
“Closest is an hour away.” He showed me a green dot on the map, moving towards North Gate. “She was supposed to be there half an hour ago, but she’s running late for some reason. We don’t have anything else in the area. All the civilians have evacuated.”
“If Obox-ob was around, we could surprise them through the sewers.”
“Still no sign of him. The only other thing that uses the sewers is…” He trailed off.
“The fey,” I finished.
Clarke looked thoughtful. “They did offer…”
“No,” Butler said sharply. “Only as a last resort. They promised to stay out of this unless we asked. I want to see if they can hold to that.”
“Oh, of course we could,” a pleasant female voice said. Every gun in the room immediately turned to point at Maeve, who was standing at the door, smiling. “If you ask, Mister Butler, we’ll stay hidden until this city is nothing but cold ash in the wind. But we would like to offer you some other options.”
Behind her, one of her Princes walked in, holding a small plastic box in her arms. It was the winged girl from the Wild Hunt, Aitil Péine. She blinked in the light—harsh to her nighteyes—but otherwise just stood quietly next to her Princess.
“Lady Maeve,” Butler said, a little stiffly. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Maeve smirked. “Just doing my duty for the city, Mister Butler.” She nodded at her Prince.
Aitil strode up and plopped the box on the war table, before opening it up to reveal… a radio. A radio with perhaps a larger antenna than normal, but nothing else particularly remarkable about it. I had built better radios than that.
There was a pause.
“I’m not playing along, Maeve,” Butler growled. “Explain.”
“It looks like the radios the US uses,” I said.
Maeve smiled. “I’m sure MC has already hacked the enemy communications.”
“Of course,” MC said from the speakers. “Though honestly it’s not very useful at the moment. The battlefield is nearly small enough that everyone can see what is happening. Several ambushes have been foiled, but—”
“Mary Christina,” Butler said, admonishing her. He turned back to Maeve. “Continue. Please.”
“This is something else. It is tied to their explosives.”
The room was silent. I thought I heard someone choking in surprise.
I blinked. “You managed to hack their bombs? How is that possible?”
She smiled. “Some of our feyborn have that invisibility. Such a useful talent. We simply had them slip into the camp and make a few adjustments to the equipment. Not everything has a remote trigger, of course, but those that don’t should go up in a chain-reaction when the rest blow. The base camp will be destroyed, and all that will be left is to hunt down any stragglers.”
Butler narrowed his eyes and loomed over her. “What is the price?”
Maeve smirked. “You’ll owe me a favor?”
“No,” Butler said instantly. “Name a firm, specific price, or the deal is off and you have to replace a homunculus.”
“Speaking of homunculi, did you know that there are a few scattered among the enemy troops? Very interesting—”
“Your price, fey.”
Maeve’s smile finally faded. “We want to go to New York.”
Butler rocked back on his heels. “I see.”
“I don’t,” I said. “Even assuming your homunculi can operate that far from your real bodies, what would you want there?”
“Legitimacy,” Butler said.
Maeve nodded. “Once this little war is over, one way or another, negotiations will need to occur. Many warlords will wish to send their ambassadors to represent the greatest cultures of the city, and Butler will of course agree. We just want to be remembered as one of those great cultures.”
“Instead of a bunch of insane monster makers.”
Maeve smirked. “Do I look insane, Honored Paladin? Does my dear Aitil look like a monster?” She shook her head. “Did you ever consider that perhaps the fey have moved on from their darker origins?”
None of that was a lie—but then, none of it was really a statement of fact, either.
“What about the gargant?”
Maeve raised an eyebrow. “What? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“The one at Acheron.”
Maeve’s smile disappeared.
“That is not relevant to this discussion.”
“You have a gargant hunting down people like dogs, and it seems to have a power—”
“Laura,” Butler said. “Now is not the time.”
I scowled, but stepped back.
“So,” Maeve said, as if nothing had happened. “Do we have a deal? The radio for the position?”
“No,” Butler said. “We have a deal—if this works. I’m not promising you anything in exchange for a broken radio.”
She smirked. “Come now Butler, give us some credit. Funny as that would be, it would gain us nothing in the end. The bombs will explode. Anything that happens after that, I cannot guarantee. So, deal?” She held out her hand to shake.
Butler stared at it for a moment like it was a poisonous snake, before grudgingly shaking it.
“Deal,” he said tiredly. “Miss Medina. If you would.”
I nodded. “MC, order any troops near the enemy base camp to retreat.”
“Done,” she said. “There weren’t many.”
“All right,” I said. I picked up the radio, looked at it for a moment, and then found that the ‘talk’ button had been crudely taped with red duct tape as a label. Its purpose was obvious. I took a deep breath, then pressed the button.
I imagined I could feel the shaking from here.
“Reports coming in,” one of the aides said immediately, hand to her earbud. “Big explosion at the gate… lot of smoke and confusion… enemy echoes seem to be down… no friendly casualties reported.”
“Tell the kemos to send in the best they have,” I said. “Retake that gate immediately, and hold it. Everything else is secondary.”
Maeve clapped her hands, just once, to get everyone’s attention.
“Well, that was fun,” she said cheerily. “Who’s up for Chinese?”
Behind the Scenes (scene 288)
One of the interesting things about writing these war scenes is the power difference. America could wipe Domina City off the map, shield or no, and there’s nothing anyone could do about it. But the thing is, with their powers and toys and sheer bull-headed stubbornness, Domina can defeat any army America sends at them. They outnumber the enemy at least ten to one, and that’s before civilian militias come into play.
So the biggest difficulty here is finding ways to justify keeping things difficult for the city. I’m proud of the echoes, but most higher-level warlords can beat one in a fair fight (though there are far more echoes than there are warlords of that level). So what other advantages does America have? Short of giving up and nuking the place, of course.
Domina Urbana 