Mt. Rushmore, Spring 2053
Two giant granite faces stared into the bright glare of the sun.
There had been more than two faces once, but a strong hand had spent time and effort to utterly destroy the left half of the monument.
Cal understood why the man had done it, even if it would ultimately prove to be a waste of time and effort.
After all, the old government could simply reclaim the territory and spend the points to have it returned to its prior state.
“Too expensive?” He gestured to the half-ruined monument.
The ambassador glanced up from the documents on the table, but declined to answer.
“A quaint edifice. If cost is a concern then I’m willing to provide. It can be said that a people’s history is one of their truest treasures.”
The speaker was a towering woman with pale skin and golden hair that shined with the same luminous light as her eyes. Her features were rather broad and round, beautiful, perfect. Similar to the demigod Cal had met once, standing beside the ambassador.
Suiteonemiades, whose skin was as dark as obsidian, yet with the same golden hair and eyes as his lighter cousins.
The black, bulbous helmet on the demigod’s head continued to stymie Cal’s ability to probe the contents of his mind.
The other demigods lacked the artifact and he had touched their thoughts gently and briefly.
Their so-called divine heritage provided a measure of resistance and he had refrained from going deeper lest he alert them.
The third demigod continued to stare at him with golden eyes silently, like a tiger gazes upon a jungle mouse.
It was an apt comparison, for the man was clad in armor made out of monster skins that Cal couldn’t identify. He held a fearsome helm in one ham-sized hand revealing flaming orange hair streaked and dotted with bits of dark gray and black. Natural coloring from what Cal had gleaned. Unlike, Suiteonemiades, this one kept his face shaved clean.
“Six Grandfathers is much cooler than four dead guys, anyways,” he said.
She ignored him.
“Well, Earth human, what say you to my generosity?”
He did the same as he gazed at the Earthian seated at the table.
The ambassador was an old man.
He had been on the staff of an ambassador back in the pre-spires days. He had plenty of experience moving around in the circles of the powerful and wealthy across several countries.
But they had all been merely humans.
Power derived from wealth, status, connections.
Without which, they would’ve just been old, weak men and women.
Not suited to scrapping in the dirt with only their strength and skill.
The demigod could’ve twisted his head right off his shoulders with the same ease as opening a water bottle.
The ambassador swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Honored Aehrone, you bless us with your light. I’m a humble messenger and I shall relay the boundless generosity of your offer to the president as soon as I return.”
The demigod deemed the words adequate and she turned her gaze down to Cal.
He had debated floating up so that they could all be on the same eye level, but decided that would’ve been the move of an insecure man.
Still, standing in the shade of a massive canopy tent with three demigods that had the height of the tallest basketball players, but with the powerful physiques of… well… demigods had a way of making him feel like he was a kid again trying to dodge careless adults at a backyard family BBQ.
Aehrone crossed bare arms underneath her chest.
A purposeful maneuver to draw his attention to the impressive nature of four assets.
Unlike the two demigod men clad in armor or functional clothing, she wore nothing aside from a thin tunic belted at the waist and falling well short of her knees.
He gazed up at her golden eyes, unblinking.
The divine light engendered feelings of awe and intimidation in lesser beings.
The physical perfection practically on display in its entirety seemed like overkill, but he supposed she was counting on it to tip the scales in her favor since the partial divinity wasn’t enough.
“I’m not interested.”
He cut the offer off on her lips before she could utter it.
“Cousin, how could you?” Suiteonemiades chided.
“Cousin,” Aehrone brought her head up to look down her nose at the other demigod, “you’ve made the same offer several times. You can’t take up that tone with me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say the offer was exactly the same.”
“Yeah. I’m taken,” Cal said flatly.
“And he prefers females,” Suiteonemiades said with the ease that suggested friendly familiarity.
A lie.
They weren’t friends, nor were they friendly.
They both knew that politeness was drawing to a close.
“It’s not really theirs.” He gestured toward the half monument. “Stolen from the original inhabitants of this land.”
The ambassador didn’t even flinch at the jab from where he sat, pouring over the documents.
“History is important, like you said,” he regarded Aehrone. “Well, that’s indisputable history. You want to pay for its reconstruction? Then you should really pay them. I’m sure there’s descendants of the Lakota still around somewhere out there.”
“I’m aware,” Aehrone said. “History is written by the conquerors. And what is won belongs to the victors by natural right.”
Cal gazed at the gray parking lot they stood on.
The buildings filled with soldiers and weapon emplacements.
Visitor’s center, gift shop, cafe and ice cream shop.
The amphitheater.
Mount Rushmore itself looming beyond.
More eyes on Keystone a couple of miles to the northeast.
Once a tourist town in the distant past. Now a military fort with artillery pieces and a pair of attack helicopters.
Further northeast sat Rapid City.
Populated with more than just the military.
A handful of ancient jets sat at the airport. Upgraded with magitech to compensate for the rough conditions they had to operate in.
He hadn’t known much about cutting edge tech back in the old days, but he had known that they could be temperamental.
The stress of high speeds and hard landings on the planes wasn’t something the laymen really thought about.
Speaking of stress, all the soldiers in the area were wound as tightly as an antique clock.
The feeling filtered down to the handful of civilian support staff at both the nearby town and the distant city.
However, the greater population of the latter knew nothing was amiss. To them it was just another Saturday. Their freest day of the week.
Parents took children out to spend time together as a family. They played at the park. Ate at the handful of restaurants. Watched old movies at the movie theater or live performances at the theatre.
Happy laughter.
Fun music.
Good food.
Loving families living their lives with hope for their futures despite the monsters clawing at the walls.
If he had to give the old government one thing it was that, at least in this city and a handful of the larger ones to the east, people could almost live without thinking about the monsters outside when they weren’t putting in their mandatory time on the wall.
He saw it in their minds.
The dare to dream that had been missing for so long after the spires appeared.
He glanced at the demigods and for the second time since he had landed he stifled the urge to kill them.
Instead he remained silent in his mental exploration, searching and failing to find a way for those that didn’t deserve their coming fates.
An hour of silence was broken by the ambassador.
Cal felt for the man.
A decent sort.
One that believed in doing his job to the best of his ability without falling to the temptation of abusing his status and power like so many of his peers.
“Mr. Cruces, I’ve reviewed your proposed changes.”
“Completely unacceptable?”
The ambassador nodded.
“Not willing to bend even the slightest are you?” he sighed. “Are you even representing the will of the American people?” he eyed the demigods.
“I assure you, everything has passed through both houses of Congress and the president’s desk without undue influence from…” the ambassador hesitated.
“You are free to speak freely, as I assured you, always.” Suiteonemiades smiled down as though the old, experienced ambassador was a small child giving a book report.
To be fair, the demigod claimed to be hundreds of years, if not closing in on a millennia old.
The black, bulbous helmet prevented Cal from verifying the truth, but the other two demigods lacked the same psychic protection and they were both several centuries old so he was inclined to believe.
“That is to say, the honored ones have not dictated or influenced the Come Home Bill, well, law… as of this morning.”
“Laws only apply to citizens of said nation, right, ambassador?”
“Yes, I’m aware of your position on whether you and the rest count as American citizens. Regardless of outside circumstances, it is the position of the rightful American government that, essentially, once a citizen, always a citizen.”
“Unless, stripped of course, I believe there was a provision in the bill for that.”
“That is correct.”
“But only as punishment or leverage-seeking?”
“I can only point you to the provision in regards to that.”
“So, refusal to ‘come home’ makes me a criminal?”
“That is correct. However,” the ambassador took a deep breath, “I was instructed to secure your cooperation by any means necessary.” He activated his Skills.
Cal sighed. “Ambassador, if the president ordered you to shoot yourself in the head, would you do it? Please don’t try that on me. Bad faith negotiation is no negotiation at all.”
“Apologies. We’re ready to offer you a blank check so to speak. My Skill tells me you know what that means. Ah, excuse me for the usage. It is strictly to benefit my ability to conduct this negotiation. It isn’t one to influence you in any direct way.”
“I’ve never written nor received one before, but, yes, I know what you mean.”
The ambassador’s face remained a study in calm, professionalism, never revealing the swirl of the storm in his thoughts.
Fear mingled with distaste at what he viewed as an insolent traitor and the desire to do his duty to the nation he loved.
A thread of confusion ran through it all.
Before the ambassador stood a man that looked as though he had been born after the spires had appeared or perhaps a handful of years before at the earliest, yet he spoke like a much older man. That was all he had to go on. His Skills normally gave him the ability to get a sense of the person on the other side of the table. What they wanted, what they were willing to give. All the things that went into a negotiation.
“I wrote in and crossed out what I want for our agreement. It’s a lot more… streamlined… than all the legalese. Easier to stick to for both sides. No risks of misunderstandings and such.”
“It’s impossible.”
“You’re not going to take it back for Congress to look at?”
“My instructions—”
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“Yeah, I know, they want a definitive answer here and now. But, I’m asking you to do it anyway. Use those ambassador Skills of yours. I’m sure they’ll tell you that what’s best for the citizens of your country is to keep this dialogue going. Don’t we all have more important things to worry about than each other? World Events keep popping up. Outworld invaders,” he regarded the trio of demigods, “are turning up the heat on their invasions. Did you know, ambassador, that no less than 5 different pantheons of so-called gods—”
“Insolence,” Aehrone said lazily.
The slight grin never left Suiteonemiades’ face.
The third demigod said and did nothing, except continued to stare.
“They have come to an agreement to carve up our planet, at least for as long as it takes to take full control of the territories so that they can set up for the real war to control it all.”
“I…” the ambassador swallowed. “Without independent verification…” he shook his head.
“That’s not counting all the countless others trying to take what is ours.”
“We really got the short end of the stick, didn’t we?” the ambassador looked up bleakly from his chair.
“I only have a sample size of 2, but the non-Terminus world is doing a lot better.”
“The Threnosh world?”
“I understand you’ve started a dialogue. How’s it going?”
“Difficult. It seems that someone has poisoned that well.”
“I only told them what I knew from my perspective and passed over some historical information,” Cal nodded to Aehrone, “it’s important, history, I mean.”
She returned a mirthless smile.
“Besides,” he nodded to the ambassador, “Murderhobos don’t make good ambassadors. I’d say it was lucky that I was the first Earthian to make my way there. My warnings combined with my good behavior was enough to counterbalance those issues. They should’ve sent people like you first instead of soldiers. Honestly, you’re lucky that the Threnosh take my calls. They would’ve wiped your guys out otherwise.”
“Ah, yes. Why don’t we go over your proposed changes?” The ambassador sensed something Cal already knew. He glanced at the demigod looming next to him.
Suiteonemiades said nothing.
The next hour flowed like a swift stream.
Their positions on the nature of the agreement refused to budge like great boulders in said stream.
Old America wanted a return to how it was before the spires.
Citizens obeyed the laws or were hit with the consequences of failure to do so.
For Cal and other likewise powerful people that meant conscription, though they were willing to give him a fairly high rank.
Things like the skyships and other advanced magic, technology or both would belong to the government.
The same applied to homes, buildings and territories.
Back taxes would, naturally, need to be paid… with interest… and in Universal Points.
He had briefly considered playing along to shape the Old American government from within.
Sure they would’ve made him swear magical and Skill-backed oaths, but none of them were strong enough to hold him to those.
The eidolons couldn’t, Ms. Teacher couldn’t.
And if she couldn’t, then the demigods couldn’t.
Ultimately, he had rejected the idea without much anguish.
It would’ve required doing things he didn’t want to do.
And it would’ve required dealing with the demigods in a way he was reluctant to.
Sadly, it reached that end anyways.
“They really did you dirty, ambassador.”
As they both expected, there was no agreement.
They couldn’t delay that conclusion any longer.
“Excuse me?” the ambassador frowned.
“I can tell you already know, or at least suspect. All your loyal service and this is what they reward you with.”
Suiteonemiades shook his head sadly.
Cal thought it looked genuine.
Aehrone’s golden eyes seemed to gleam brighter. While the silent third remained as still as a statue.
“I know this isn’t much consolation, but I’ll make them pay. And I’ll tell your story accurately. I really tried, but it’s in you too deeply. In your organs and… your soul, spirit, whatever you believe it to be.”
Aehrone’s eyes shot to Suiteonemiades.
“He knows!”
“I told you,” the demigod shrugged boulder shoulders. “The archives on the world you were just on should’ve had everything we had on Psionic Primes.”
“Stories from ancient days. Florid poetry and indulgent prose!” she snapped.
“Listen,” Cal grabbed their attention, literally forcing them to look at him. They struggled with strength enough to shatter the two remaining faces on the mountain to rubble with a handful of blows. “You already got what you really wanted. There’s no need to involve the ambassador and all the innocent people in the city.”
“I find it distasteful as well,” Suiteonemiades said.
“Then don’t. You’ve got seniority. I know for a fact that you can call it off. Let’s keep it between us.
3 on 1… fine. Winner gets their way. Surely, you aren’t that scared of me?”
The obsidian-skinned demigod held up a hand to forestall Aehrone’s angry retort. “No. Not fear. Never that. Aware. Wary. That’s the word you mean to say.”
“In my experience fear tends to precipitate violence.”
“You talk as if you don’t fear. In my experience there are many types of fear. And you are gripped as firmly as anyone and anything in existence. Perhaps only the spires is free. No. Your words don’t matter. Even if we found accord. Those above will simply replace me.”
“Then set up a meeting.”
Suiteonemiades laughed. “We are as insects to our fathers and mothers.” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t earn the Gods’ respect. You can only force it and you can’t do that without touching them.”
“Fine, I’ll take your word for it, but that doesn’t make a difference. We keep this between us. They send more and I’ll do the same. I imagine there’s a lot of you demigods, but they’ll run eventually. Then I’ll get my meeting.”
The demigod’s golden beard was split by a wide smile. “You can’t verify this, but I would be thrilled to see that occur. My one request is that you start with my father. I might be biased, but there isn’t a more deserving God in the pantheon.”
“War helps no one. People will die. You need them to hold territory. Otherwise all that’ll be left are the monsters.” He tried to appeal to their desires. In vain, he knew because—
“The Gods don’t care about the individual or even millions of individuals. There are more than enough sapients in their dominion with which to repopulate this world after,” Suiteonemiades said.
“Why involve them if they can’t affect the outcome between us?”
“Because it hurts you more than anything else,” Suiteonemiades said. “Distasteful? I agree, but I am my father’s son after all. Innocence? Gods don’t care. If they even notice. True war requires the fervor of wholehearted commitment. What binds a population in the unity of purpose? Great tragedy the likes to devastate everyone for generations to follow. You know the history of your world. It is much the same across the vast expanse of existence in the web of the spires. A vile enemy attack recorded for all to see.”
“What is going on?” the ambassador sputtered.
“Apologies. You’ve served your nation well. Your name will be remembered at the forefront of the list,” Suiteonemiades said.
Over 3 kilometers away, artillery crews began the firing sequence having already pre-aimed, while attack helicopters spun to life to join the handful of drones taking off from the main street cutting through the small town.
30 kilometers away, pilots taxied fighter jets and ground attack aircraft from hangers to runway while missile launchers waited for the order to rain hell down on a simple parking lot in the shadow of a half-ruined monument to their nation’s history.
“They’re making you and everyone in Rapid City into a false flag, ambassador. You know how it is.”
The old man paled.
“He’s right on one thing. They won’t forget you. I promise everyone will know the truth of what they did. I just wish that I could be more confident about your people believing it.”
Time slowed to a crawl for the two of them.
A trick of perception for a conversation between the seconds.
“What—” the ambassador stared at the motionless demigods.
Cal explained.
The ambassador went from shock, to denial, to acceptance in quick succession with a little mental help.
“You’re a decent dude. Do you have any words for your family? Say them as if they were standing right in front of you. I’ll deliver them perfectly.”
Haltingly, the ambassador spoke with tears in his eyes.
When the old man was finished all that remained was hope.
“Will they— these demigods— will they do what they did to me to my family?”
“That’s one bit of good news. They used up their supply and from what I’ve gathered there won’t be anymore for the foreseeable future. They’re playing by rules. Think of the old Cold War.”
“MAD.” The ambassador nodded. “I’ve thought about my place in history… this wasn’t how I pictured it ending.”
“I’ll make sure you’re remembered for you efforts in good faith when those above you proved faithless.”
“Will it be quick?”
“In a way, you’re lucky. You won’t feel a thing. Most… well, you don’t really need to know, do you?”
“No. I suppose it doesn’t matter now. If you can… I know I can’t ask this, but… if you can, please keep my family safe from them.” The ambassador glared at the demigods.
“I can only do that if they agree and I won’t force them. Hopefully, your words are enough to convince them.”
“Okay. Thank you.” The ambassador took a deep breath and slumped, bending over in his chair, looking every bit his age. “No point in delaying it. I’m sorry. I had no idea it was a trap.”
“I hold no grudge. Well, Ambassador David Rylance. We aren’t on the same side and we never will be, but you’re better than most in the upper echelons of your government and that should be remembered and appreciated.”
Cal ended the temporary reprieve.
Suiteonemiades’ eyes narrowed.
“I suppose that’s it.”
A portal opened behind the demigod.
“All that talk only for you to run.”
“Retreat. I don’t need to fight you myself to achieve my aims. At least at this moment. They, however,” he gestured to the other two demigods, “are filled with the arrogance and false sense of invincibility that all callow youth hold.”
“You want war? Death accompanies it.”
“We understand that better than you ever could. They might be young, but you are as unto a child straight from the mother’s womb in comparison. You think you know violence and blood? They’ve been steeped in it for longer than this America has existed.”
Cal reached out with an invisible hand.
Suiteonemiades surged with golden energy tracing the veins beneath his obsidian flesh.
The moment saw the demigod break free and leap back into the bright portal.
The ambassador grunted.
Light flashed underneath the canopy as the world exploded.
----------------------------------------
Southern California, Spring 2053
“What’re you wearing? Why’s it so tight? Where’d you get it?”
“My mom says you have a nice butt.”
Tiny voices giggled.
Alin glanced back at the kids.
From atop her robot horse, Kat snickered.
“You all are interested in what I’m wearing, but not the awesome robot horse? I mean… it’s a robot horse that’s smarter than an actual horse.”
“We know Razorwind. Miss Kat brought him to our school before.”
“I drew that!”
A little boy pointed to a painted rainbow across its left flank? Haunch? Alin forgot the technical term. It wasn’t a bad rainbow, though he silently questioned the boy’s aesthetic choice of painting an explosion instead of a pot of gold at the end. Then again, with what he knew about how leprechauns tended to react to that sort of thing it was for the best.
“Cool painting, little dude!” he shot the boy double finger guns.
“My dad says it’s not good to pretend to do that.” A little girl sniffed. “You’re only supposed to point your gun at a monster or bad person you want to kill.” She recited the words with all the seriousness and intonation of a priest reading from one of the gospels.
It was too much for Kat. She burst out laughing. “She’s got you there.”
“My mom says she can almost see everything,” another little girl said. “I don’t get it.” She looked to him as if he owed her an explanation.
“First of all, no one can see almost everything,” he said flatly. “That is just factually incorrect.”
Yes, the Threnosh onesie was indeed skin tight. Although, it did, indeed, feel like wearing nothing at all, it didn’t mold itself to the body like a second skin. It did not outline his cheeks. Not a hint of crack. It did have good bulge control. All in all it provided more modesty than the things he wore underneath regular clothes when he was training.
Naturally, he wasn’t going to mention those topics to 5 year old’s.
“And you tell your moms,” his eyes darted to the handful of young moms chatting at the benches surrounding the playground a good distance away with beverages in hands, “that they shouldn’t be looking at other peoples’ butts. Yeah, you guys don’t look at butts either.” He rolled his eyes. Those yoga pants and tight tops were way more revealing than his tactical, super science onesie. A sudden urge to deploy his undersuit from the flat backpack rose from the depths of his embarrassment. It was like unto a kraken’s tentacle seeking to drag him down to the monster’s steel-rending beak.
“Miss Kat…” a little boy glanced up shyly, red tinging his chubby cheeks.
“Yeah, Roland?”
“I’m going to be a ranger when I grow up.”
“You can do whatever you want as long as you try your hardest!”
Alin would’ve discouraged it.
Life expectancy was statistically lower for rangers.
Maiming was statistically higher.
He supposed there was a doubled-edged blade to the advancements in magitech and healing abilities in that people tended to get reckless when they could always get a fancy prosthetic with all sorts of features or a full, natural replacement if they were willing to wait longer.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a lightsaber,” another little boy whispered.
Eyes lit up.
“Turn it on!”
The cry was taken up across the gaggle.
His eyes darted across the street to the block of homes where Ranger Captain Mouthy and other high level rangers were in a tense stand-off with the old American government’s ambassador.
Only three houses were occupied.
One each for the ambassador, her civilian support staff and her security detail.
From what he understood, this neighborhood had been assigned to be a diplomatic quarter of sorts.
It was empty aside from the old Americans.
He listened in on the comms.
It wasn’t going well.
Not that he had expected it to go differently.
He shifted his gaze to take stock of the other rangers positioned in the park. They formed a loose line between the stand-off and the people enjoying the sunny, but cool day. They were still close enough to the beach to feel the caress of that ocean breeze.
Shield generators were in place. All green in his faceplate.
From his understanding it had been a bit contentious in the planning session as ranger command argued over the need to avoid tipping off the old Americans weighed against the peoples’ safety.
They could’ve closed the park, kept the people from using it.
Then again if the hidden bomb was allowed to exploded unimpeded it would take out everything in just under a kilometer radius.
The kids and their moms probably lived well within.
“Goldenspoon, copy?” Ranger Captain Hardhat’s voice, sharp as a blade, came in over the comms.
“I copy.”
“Oracular warnings just spiked.”
“I’m not reading any buildup.”
“Just get ready.”
Frustratingly, that demigod’s weird helmet had continued to keep his dad from piercing those crucial thoughts.
No one else had known anything about the things hidden inside the old Americans. Not the eidolons. Not even the other demigods.
Alin didn’t know if even just pushing the gray too close could set everything off.
Worst of all, they didn’t know which old Americans contained bombs and which contained the other thing.
His dad had failed to discern a noticeable difference.
Just like all the surreptitious methods they had tried.
“Copy that.”
The gray crossed the street at his will, coming to a halt at the midway point.
He wouldn’t sense anything, affect anyone until he enveloped them.
“Can I try it? I promise I won’t cut anyone.”
The little girl’s voice reminded him that a gaggle of children were way too close.
“No, sorry. Now’s not a good time.”
“Why?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Alright, kids. Time to go back to the playground. Ranger business.” Kat gave them a knowing look.
What that was… who knew?
But, it worked and though disappointed they waved and ran back to their yoga moms.
Timing was perfect because the spires chimed in their ears a split-second before the alert blared over the comms.
With a thought, Alin surged the gray forward like a sudden, rogue wave on a beach filled with revelers.