“Captain Gregory, we’ve heard a great deal about you.” The man in uniform offered Orson his hand. “Colonel Allen Musgrove.”
The Pacific Alliance officials were using a former storage room for an office. It had mostly been cleared of farming equipment, but a back corner still held a stack of fertilizer bags. A collection of tables stood against one wall. The rest of the space – easily as large as the Aesir’s living area, was almost empty. Musgrove stood beside a table and chairs, near the room’s entrance.
The Colonel’s unnamed compatriot sat in another seat, at the rear of the room. Orson guessed him to be in his early forties, but he couldn’t say why, looking at his face. The man wore a shirt and tie, a jacket draped over the back of his seat, and he did nothing to acknowledge Orson’s presence.
Orson shook the Colonel’s hand. “It’s a relief that you’re here to defend Littlefield.”
“We have some big shoes to fill, Captain,” Musgrove said. “I don’t think anyone has illusions about the real victor of yesterday’s battle. You fought the Knight. Your ship destroyed the illegitimate Governor. Your defenses defeated his army. This was your victory.”
“I was happy to help Littlefield,” Orson said. “And I’m always more than happy to take on would-be conquerors.”
“Please, feel free to sit down.” Musgrove sat.
“Thank you.” Orson took the seat across from Musgrove. “How’s the cleanup? I’m sorry I couldn’t offer any assistance.”
“We are hoping to have the road cleared in the next few days,” Musgrove said. “It will be a complicated process – days to clear the road and much longer for the forensics teams to do their work identifying remains. But the Liberty Corps and some good fortune made the job somewhat easier. One of their few undamaged vehicles was a freezer truck filled with body bags.”
“I’m surprised they went to so much trouble.” Orson snuck another glance at No Name. The other man was leafing through papers in his lap. “The War Force didn’t seem like the kind to respectfully bury their enemies.”
“They weren’t.” Musgrove reached under the table to a collection of his own materials. He placed a tablet device on the table and selected an image, before pushing the device toward Orson. The screen showed a blurry view of a gray-clad man in a barred cell.
“That’s Captain Wiggin,” Musgrove continued. “He drove with his Liberty Corps Chapter all the way from upstate New York. His men crewed the refrigerator truck, and he made it very clear that Mr. Sloan had no intention of using these body bags for the people of Littlefield. This was for the Liberty Corps fallen. The dead of Littlefield were to be placed together in a mass grave.”
“That sounds like him. He wanted to make a public example of Littlefield.” Orson suppressed the urge to joke about the wannabe governor’s demise, but not everyone shared his jarring sense of humor. “You wasted no time.” Orson pointed to the tablet. “Are you that nice or that scary, that you already have their men talking?”
Musgrove smiled to his eyes, but he didn’t laugh. “We have far less information than we’d like.” He slid the tablet to another image. It now displayed a symbol that Orson wore every day, his mentor’s symbol – the Castle at the Crescent Moon – his Dreamside Road key. “That’s why we’d like to talk with you. We would like to work alongside you in a formal capacity.”
“I think we definitely have some information we should share with each other.” Orson had expected pleasantries and talk of the battle and talk of the world. He’d expected to circle the point for a lot longer than a single exchange. “I have some files from the League of Nations post-Kappa reparations that I can send to you, and a few of my own records from the last few years. I traveled pretty extensively through the rebuilding EU and Mediterranean Middle East. That might help you.”
“That’s very generous,” Musgrove said. “Thank you. If I’m being honest, given your history, we didn’t expect you to be so welcoming.”
“Well.” Orson placed both of his hands on the table in front of him. He’d heard somewhere that this was an open gesture. “If I’m being honest, that help is conditional. I need a couple simple assurances about your work here, in Littlefield.”
“I see,” Musgrove said. The other official looked up from his papers. “I hope you understand that I obviously can’t make any promises until I know what you’re referring to.”
“I do understand,” Orson said. “The locals here are sharing their IHSA information with you, but I need your word that you will do nothing to continue Kappa’s biological experiments or conduct any exploratory testing on the domesticated animals Kappa bred locally.”
“Domesticated animals?” Musgrove looked perplexed. “I’m afraid I’m not aware of this.”
“I can assure you, Captain Gregory,” the unnamed official called across the room. “We have no interest in troubling your friend’s dog or any other pooches with radar dishes on their necks. We’re not in here to be pet thieves.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.” Orson made a show of leaning around Musgrove to take a look at the other man. The Colonel, brow furrowed, also turned back toward the official. “And what’s your name? Are you the secretary or the stenographer or…”
“I’m Agent Bacri,” the man said. “Pacific Alliance Investigation Bureau. I can show you my badge, if necessary. I’m operating here as an observer. I apologize if this troubles you, Captain.”
“You’re giving off a cloak-and-dagger sort of vibe, but you’ll have to forgive my paranoia. It keeps me alive. I’m sure you’ll understand.” Bacri nodded. Musgrove chuckled.
“Do me a favor,” Orson continued. “If it isn’t already in the written agreement with Littlefield, please add resolutions not to continue Kappa’s research. Once that’s done, and my second condition is figured out, I’ll have the materials sent on to you. I actually think the second condition will be useful for everyone. We’ll get to that in a minute, but I have something I want you to hear, first. It’s a recording of the Liberty Corps Western Baron, whatever that means, talking about the men who warned us before Sloan’s attack. That’s the other thing…”
“We’re aware of the message,” Musgrove said. “I’m surprised you are, Captain. You’re younger than I expected, and I didn’t think you’d be a shortwave radio enthusiast.” The Colonel smiled again, and Orson hoped the moment of necessary tension had passed.
“I’m not,” Orson admitted. “But I have knowledgeable friends. Why do you think this Helmont was broadcasting openly? That’s the only reason I have the recording, he kept playing it, over and over.”
“We don’t know,” Musgrove said. “We’re afraid it’s some kind of power move on his part. He had the ability to use the old communications networks, and he’s flaunting it.”
“What about the Maros group?” Orson asked. “That’s my other condition. Anyone who sent the warning deserves asylum or any protection you can give them. I can’t believe I’m here worrying about Maros, but I owe him one.”
“Their asylum request has been approved,” Musgrove said. “The terms will be sent to them later today, with their pickup before the end of the week.” He took two boxes from beneath his chair and placed them on the table. “The older Maros brother, Maxwell, was a field-promoted naval captain in the Thunderworks Campaign. He’d contacted an old friend of his, who is now an officer with us. They knew each other since their Naval Academy days. We don’t believe Maxwell had any connection to the Liberty Corps.”
“The younger brother, uh, Kolben?” Orson said. Musgrove nodded. “He has a lot to answer for. His Liberty Corps Chapter, or Division, or whatever the terminology is – they destroyed the property of one of my crewmembers. They illegally detained hundreds of people in Nimauk, Pennsylvania. He and his men chased me and my ship and tried to shoot us down, multiple times. He needs to be held accountable for those things, but I also want to vouch for him, in this situation. If he will put himself at personal risk to save this town, he deserves safety, if nothing else. If you don’t have a copy of the warning he sent here, I’ll get you one.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Musgrove said. “We have a copy of the message, but we’ll pass along your words of support.”
“It’s only right,” Orson said. “It would have been impossible to keep this town completely safe without advance notice.”
“I expect we would have found a very different scene,” Musgrove said, “had that warning never come here. As for Helmont…” He opened one of his boxes and passed Orson a black and white photo of a young, thin man with a buzz cut and a transparent, wire-trailing apparatus on his head. “Why he chose to publicly call for their capture, we have no idea. He has always been something of a mystery.”
“This is that Baron Helmont?” Orson turned the photo over in his hands. It looked like a candid Polaroid. It bore no writing, or at least no visible writing.
“R.K. Helmont.” Musgrove nodded. “This was taken just after he appeared in Hierarchia records.”
“R.K.?” Orson asked.
“We don’t know.” Musgrove took back the photo and slid the tablet to Orson. “We don’t know much about him. When I said ‘appeared’, I meant it. He arrived on the scene shortly after the World Bound Warning episode, in the eighties. He was an early Neurzodone test-subject.”
“Neurzodone?” Orson took the tablet. It bore the image of men, stripped out of their shirts, some only in underwear, floating in the open air, hundreds of feet above a desert landscape. He’d seen such a thing before. Pops had shown him.
“Neurzodone was a focus drug the Hierarchia made,” Musgrove said. “It was supposed to help train the mind. Its formulations were hidden, and it had multiple names. We’re not even clear on whether it was always the same formulation. You might know it as NZD.”
“Oh.” Orson laughed. “This Helmont was in the Delsalt trial? Yeah, I’ve heard of that. I thought Delsalt was some useless thing the Hierarchia did to experiment on hippies?”
“Delsalt was never an official name.” Bacri called from the back. “Just some nickname from a client community.”
“We’ve always known it had a limited success,” Musgrove said. “And it is also highly addicting in affected persons. Now, we’ve learned that NZD was an attempt to replace the Dreamthought Project with an easier-to-quantify alternative.”
“Wait.” Orson pointed to the picture of Helmont. “The Hierarchia wanted a drug that gave people powers?”
“Yes,” Musgrove said. “But all it did was reveal individuals who had a natural predisposition to learning the kind of abilities the Dreamthought Project was studying.”
“Abilities like the ones the Liberty Corps Shapers have,” Bacri called again. “Or your friend Miss Cloud.”
Orson tried to hide any surprise that crossed his face. Word about Enoa had already spread. Had one of the local Littlefield residents provided that information? Had rumor traveled from Nimauk or the Solar Saver crawler?
Musgrove pressed a finger to the tablet. The screen now displayed a video of the men in the air. The video began. Orson could hear the screams of the men. The view changed as something, a robot or a remote drone, flew between them, filming.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
A voiceover started. Baron Helmont spoke over the screams and the light hum of the machine that took the video.
“These men are now dead, because of your treachery. They die because you refused the rightful successor state of this continent. You encroached on the lawful heir to the IHSA, the League of Nations, and the American government. The IHSA kept the world from falling into chaos. Now, only the Liberty Corps can pull us back from the brink. And it is only my will that keeps these men from their deaths. Without me…”
The men in the video fell, all of them. They plummeted to the earth. The drone angled its camera to keep them in view, all the long way down to the ground below. The worst of the gruesome image could not be seen. The distance was too great, but the end result was unmistakable.
“Any further incursions against Liberty Corps holdings will be considered an act of war. Any rebellion against the rightful rulers will not be tolerated. Let these men’s deaths be an example for any future action you might take.”
The video ended. The screen turned dark.
“Whoever this Helmont was before he joined the Neurzodone trial,” Musgrove said. “He has learned the mental discipline the IHSA called Shaping. He has a power we do not understand. Weeks ago, we sent these men to secure an old supply depot, but they were ambushed and taken to Helmont to be executed.”
“I’m so sorry,” Orson said. “This ability Helmont allegedly has, I’ve seen a video of it before. Are we really supposed to believe he can throw around tons of people with his mind? What other information do you have about him?”
“Almost none,” Musgrove said. “He has lived under this assumed name, since the early eighties. Most of that time he’s been completely under the radar, working in IHSA think tanks on multiple continents. He was attached to the Recovery Department under your old acquaintance, Tobias Nation, but there was almost no record of him since then, or at least, there wasn’t until he appeared running the western Liberty Corps and looking for the Dreamside Road trove.”
“I thought they had Maros looking for the Dreamside Road?” Orson asked.
“Maros was ordered to find it for the Czar of the Liberty Corps,” Bacri called. “But we have reason to believe that as many as five other young operatives received similar orders. It seems, more and more, that all of these missions are only used as tests for the up-and-comers, and to feed information to Helmont.”
“Maros was pretty successful for someone only being tested,” Orson said.
“And he’ll be very useful once we have him under our protection,” Bacri added.
“What about that deal he had with Daniel Tucker?” Orson asked. “How does that figure into this Helmont plan? Are you aware of that situation?”
“Only vaguely,” Musgrove said. “We’ve heard of Tucker, the one individual the IHSA succeeded in bonding during their Cobalt Nine experiment.”
“I can tell you a bit about him too,” Orson said.
“Can you explain Cobalt Nine?” Bacri asked. “You fought Tucker, correct? You must have some experience with the substance.”
“I do have some experience,” Orson grimaced.
“You don’t happen to know where we could find a sample, do you?” Bacri eagerly sat forward. “We’ve read about it extensively, but it doesn’t seem to follow any logic. If it’s a liquid at room temperature and only solidifies under pressure, how was it part of other construction? How does its radioactivity work? Is it not true cobalt, or not predominantly cobalt, and only has the name because it’s the cobalt that bonds to the human body during experimentation?”
“I appreciate your excitement.” Orson thought of the pendant around his neck, the key, made of Cobalt Nine. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell you. I’m not even a scientist, much less a cutting edge researcher. I mostly stick to the observable and repeatable, uh, principle. But what about Maros and his mission?”
“Young Kolben was being prepared for some important position by Ilias Hawthorne, Czar of the Liberty Corps,” Bacri said. “We do not know the details of that relationship, but we intend to find out.”
“I don’t know Hawthorne,” Orson said. “Who is he?”
“He is the founder and leader of the Liberty Corps, a former United States Senator from West Virginia,” Bacri said. “He was a big IHSA supporter. He was on the Intelligence Committee, full clearance. He helped allocate funding to the IHSA operations in his state.”
“He created the Liberty Corps as his own personal defense force,” Musgrove added. “After the Hierarchia file leak, in 2010, he created this defense force to keep himself safe. They grew over the next five years. After Thunderworks, he used the Liberty Corps, ostensibly to distribute supplies, but actually to recruit followers. They have at least five hundred chapters we know about, with membership exponentially increasing, now over one hundred thousand. We’re not sure how many are combatants.”
“Last year,” Bacri said. “Liberty Corps forces began referring to Hawthorne as Czar, instead of Senator, but he hasn’t made a public appearance in two years. He completely dropped off the map. He supposedly works out of somewhere called the Lost Park Office, a location converted from an IHSA base in the former Radio Quiet Zone.”
“I know of the Quiet Zone,” Orson said. “So this Hawthorne, he’s using the Liberty Corps operation to take over. Why the interest in the Dreamside Road? The Hierarchia couldn’t find it. How could he?”
“He’s a Shaper.” Bacri stood. He draped his jacket over his right arm and lifted his chair. He joined them at the front table. “Or so he claims. He had a work job site accident, twenty years ago, and used the proceeds of the lawsuit he filed to bankroll his first campaign. But he also claims to have learned to walk again through Shaping.”
Bacri placed a picture on the table – the image of a fit man, gray at the temples, dressed in a navy-blue suit, no tie.
“He started walking again eight years ago,” Musgrove said. “He’s become some kind of evangelist on the subject, trying to teach people to unlock their ‘potential’. He sounds like a preacher, but he’s preaching pseudo-science and late-night-radio conspiracy theories.”
“Except this stuff is actually real,” Orson said. “He wants the power of the Dreamside Road. He has his own following of Shapers…”
“The question is ‘how has he done this?’” Bacri asked. “The IHSA tried to teach people this Shaping, and they failed – except for a few outlier cases. What’s different now?”
“I heard a theory,” Orson said. “That society stands in the way of paranormal abilities. Something about the manmade world keeps people from connecting to all that mumbo jumbo. And I’ve seen how people learn from example. I have no sixth sense, gentlemen – nothing like that. But, I learned to defend myself by watching other people. I imagine it’s easier to learn to Shape if you see someone who can already do it. You know it’s possible.”
“The IHSA didn’t have either of those things,” Bacri said. “They had no example after the Dreamthought Project defected. I can’t speak to the belief.”
“Well, Captain,” Musgrove said. “I’m glad we came to talk with you.”
“I am too.” Orson meant it – finally, some useful information. He’d never been the loremaster of his crews, and useful intel was hard to come by. “I have a couple more questions for you. How did Hawthorne get teamed up with real talent like this Baron Helmont? How did Maros meet Hawthorne? Who taught any of them Shaping, if the Hierarchia never learned how to do it?”
“We believe Hawthorne used his position on the Intelligence Committee to gain access to the IHSA and…” Musgrove began.
“I think we’ve talked about everything we can without making this partnership official,” Bacri interrupted. “Captain, you obviously have a vested interest in this matter. You’ve advised the League of Nations. You were an Enigma Guard in the Thunderworks Campaign. We would like to hire you to secure the Dreamside Road trove.”
“It’s always flattering when people read my resume to me,” Orson said. “But I’m actually finding the Dreamside Road for free. It’s, uh, pro bono work, you might call it.”
“There’s no need to play coy, Captain,” Musgrove said. “We have immense leeway in negotiating. Name your price. We would want you full-time, mind you, until the trove is recovered, but you can set a daily or hourly rate, with the capability to hire up to five team members. All team members would have access to Alliance benefits, for the duration of the project.”
“I have to stop you.” Orson groaned. “This is incredibly generous, and I think we agree in a lot of places. We both want to keep the Dreamside Road from falling into the wrong hands.”
“We certainly do,” Musgrove said. “We want you to help us bring the trove under Alliance – and hopefully someday, Unified Federal control, for protection and research. If you were to help us, it would be a strong endorsement for you to have a long-term consultancy with the new government. We would also furnish you with our files on the subject…”
“We’ve been open with information.” Orson interrupted the Colonel before he could say more or make it harder to refuse. He regretted ending their surprisingly polite conversation, but it was unavoidable. “I hope you know that I’m really relieved you’re here, and I respect what you’re trying to do. But, I don’t believe there are right hands for this trove. You clearly think my opinion is worth something, so here it is.
“The best thing any of us can do with this trove, is make sure it is never found. It should be in no one’s hands. If there’s scientific research there, it can be re-learned. But the paranormal items, the stuff they got by committing war crimes or torturing people, that needs to stay hidden. I’m finding it to know why the Thunderworks leadership and their patron wanted it. Then I’m making sure it’s unreachable forever.”
Both men stopped smiling. Musgrove sagged. Bacri gave Orson an odd look, confusion or fury, all expressed by his eyes.
“That…” Musgrove began. “That is terribly disappointing. I understand your concerns, Captain. After the Thunderworks theft and everything the IHSA did, it’s understandable you’d feel this way. But the Pacific Alliance is not the Hierarchia.”
“No, it’s not.” Orson shook his head. “I know I’ve got a pretty grim view of the world, and I don’t mean to insult you or any genuinely sacrificing public servant, but there’s no group of people I trust to have this thing in thirty years or fifty. Nothing stays corruption-free that long.”
“Excuse me?” Musgrove asked. “What do you mean?”
“He means, even if we aren’t corrupt, our offices might be, someday,” Bacri said. “This is the same shit doe-eyed activists say when they’re trying to stop nuclear energy development. It’s cowardice not to take every effort to help and defend ourselves, now. You’re scared of a future boogieman, so your fear gets to decide for everyone. I didn’t take you for a coward, Gregory.”
“I’ve seen the rot in this world,” Orson said. “Most people I’ve known are decent, but there are corruption and evil everywhere. And power, at any level, draws the corruptible. There need to be checks on every power, and whoever gets this trove – if the rumors about it are true – they’ll be totally unchecked, unlike in your nuclear analogy. No one is trustworthy enough to be unchecked, not forever.”
“So, you’ll destroy government property, just like you destroyed that one-of-a-kind transference crystal, eleven years ago?” Bacri asked. “Haven’t you grown at all, since your teen years, Gregory?”
“Talk about distorting the truth,” Orson said. “The Opal was only debatably owned by anyone, and it was being used as an energy source by the Blitzkrieg terrorists. But you already know that. Are you arguing with me or preparing some propaganda hit-piece against me? Maybe I haven’t learned anything since I was a kid. The last time I had an operative try to blackmail me publicly, I responded by destroying his almighty bauble. If you want a different response, you might want to adjust your technique.”
“I see,” Bacri continued. “So I’m right. When in doubt, Gregory destroys what he’s afraid of.”
“I destroy unchecked objects that are used to hurt people,” Orson said. “If a government happens to claim one of them, that’s just too bad.”
“Please.” Musgrove placed one hand on Bacri’s shoulder and held the other out toward Orson. “Let’s talk about this. I don’t think this needs to be a geopolitical debate, but if it has to be, let’s have a debate, and stop the name-calling.”
“You’re just one man.” Bacri shoved Musgrove’s arm away. “How do you get to decide what happens to these items? What’s the check on your power, if that idea is so important to you.”
“Like you said, I’m just one man. I’m a guy made out of meat like anybody else, in a whole world of powers that could squash me like a bug, if I’m not on my game. I’ve spent my entire adult life punching above my weight class. Obviously, there are countless checks on my ‘power’. If you want to hire me, why don’t you know that?”
“I know that you’re a man who’s left a trail of destruction behind you,” Bacri said. “Greater powers are immaterial if they’re not actively competing for the trove, but if we spend enough time with your record, I’m sure we can keep you out of the picture for the duration of our search. We have more than enough to detain you, just for your actions at Isla de Manos.”
“I stand by my decisions there,” Orson said. “Any government that orders the deaths of thousands of innocents needs to be brought to justice.”
“Now Captain,” Musgrove said. “The Hand Island episode is a long time ago. We don’t need to relitigate it, but the airstrikes you disrupted were perfectly legal in international law, under those extreme circumstances.”
“Laws are only as good as the morality behind them,” Orson said. “If all society gives you is a rulebook without scruples, then it’s not worth having. But you can’t and won’t press charges for a dead government, and the Pacific Alliance is not the League of Nations. Do you even have an elected government?”
“We’ve seen what you can do, Gregory.” Bacri’s face flushed red. He stood. In any other setting, Orson would have expected an attack. “We have hours of footage we can study. How long could one man – any man – survive with the world’s finest operatives on their trail? How long do you think you would last?”
“Wow! I should trust my first impressions.” Orson also stood. He knew his best option was to leave, say something brief to defuse tensions, to end the conversation on, at least, a neutral note. But Orson was tired from months of adventures and the past week of almost sleepless fear and battle preparation. He did not take his best option.
“I had you pegged when I walked through the door,” Orson said. “You’re a one-man Hierarchia cover band. You want to cover all their greatest hits. Except you have almost no real power, other than some hand-me-down aircraft. So you sit in the back of a room like secret agent man, only introduce yourself when I push you, and make smug little comments. Was make-believe time fun for you today, Bacri? Was it nice to pretend you’re part of the organization that destroyed the world?”
“Enough of this!” Musgrove said. “Enough! We have the same goals. We have the same enemy. Imagine if the Liberty Corps would secure the Dreamside Road because the two of you can’t act like adults. Now, we have to cooperate.”
“We don’t need Gregory’s cooperation,” Bacri said. “Once he’s in Recon Force custody, he’ll have…”
“This is what I hate about men like you, Bacri,” Orson said. “You never fight your own battles. You’d never come after me yourself. Instead, you hide behind the people who make up the country’s sword, who mostly just want to protect their homes. Well, you should remember this, if you send the sword after me, I’ll know it’s you wielding it, Bacri. And I will find you.” He collected his briefcase, snapping its clasps shut.
“Happy hunting.” Orson left the room without another word.