MEANWHILE
Let's get the legal stuff out of the way first. I don't own the characters in the Gargoyles TV show. They belong to Disney. I can't take credit for the characters created in The Gargoyle Saga either. Hunter and his crew are mine, though. I'd also like to thank Christine Morgan for the loan of two of her characters, Aiden and T.J. Delta Flight has appeared in the fanfic of several authors and was created by Denis Wyrmwolf De Plaen. It's a much appreciated idea as it solved a few continuity problems for me.
I cannot say whether this happens before or after the events of Double, Double, Toil and You'll see why.
The only sound on the darkened street was the rhythmic tramp of marching feet. The patrol was on schedule and in perfect order as always. With almost mechanical precision they moved down the deserted lane past darkened shops and the darker mouths of alleys. It was nearly two in the morning, and nothing moved outdoors except the patrol, nothing would dare.
Darkened shops lined the street, long darkened actually, but it would be hard to tell that. All of the windows were intact. The displays, while showing some signs of neglect, were all in order. There was no litter on the street or even in the alleys, everything was orderly. The Masters would have it no other way.
Despite the best efforts of the Masters, however, despite the patrols, the curfew, and the harsh penalties for disobedience, there was disorder. Disorder had reared its ugly head time and again. It had been growing since official surrender of the U.S. government and the disbanding of the armed forces. New troops were in place now, and these troops were completely loyal to the Masters. There was little else for the mutate soldiers to be but loyal and vigilant servants. It was all they knew how to be.
The patrols had been getting larger over the last few weeks, larger and more visible. It had been necessary to increase their size because of the increasing frequency and ferocity of the Resistance attacks.
Fear was not something the soldiers that made up the patrol understood. It was not a consideration for them. If it was possible, it might have occurred to them to worry that a larger, more visible patrol intended to dissuade violence only presented a larger target.
Eyes swept every corner of the street, every corner of the alleys, and every roof top edge. The soldiers were thorough, as they had been instructed to be. They saw nothing that required their attention.
From an alley entrance, in plain view of the street, an observer turned and raised a four fingered hand, then began counting down to the moment the patrol drew even with the alley. Her companion nodded and raised his own hands. A blue glow formed around them as he concentrated, focusing his will.
"For the lightning," he whispered.
The cybernetic implants that kept the mutate soldiers under such strict control began to spark and crackle with electrical fire. The neat formation was thrown into disarray as they staggered about clawing at their own implants. Suddenly the street was full of fire as half-a-dozen men and women rose from concealment and opened up on the confused soldiers.
They chose their targets precisely, aiming to kill with each shot. Each of the cybernetically enhanced mutate soldiers received three short bursts from the automatic weapons the Resistance fighters carried, before the rebels pulled back and faded into the shadows. There wasn't much time to make their escape, and they all knew it.
Only two minutes later, the air over the street was filled with the roar of engines. Twelve Steel Clan robots set down and began scanning the area, looking for residual heat signatures, pheremone trails, and half-a-dozen other telltales that might indicate the rebel's current whereabouts, or at least point out a trail to follow. There wasn't much to find though. All of the trails faded away to nothing. Beyond the points where those trails ended there were no obvious paths of escape, and nothing that required their attention.
OOOOOOOOOO
General Maria Chavez greeted the returning squad personally. They were all in high spirits, and more importantly, all of them were safe and unharmed.
"I take it all went well?"
Captain Morgan stepped forward, grinning broadly. "Yes ma'am. It's never been that easy before. Our friends here are a real asset." He nodded to the diminutive female gargoyle and the sandy-haired human male. They both nodded.
"Happy to help," T.J. Lawton assured them. "We know how rough it's been lately. We've been trying to bring others into the fight, but it's slow going until a world is threatened." Chavez nodded, understanding only too well. Efforts to establish a global response to Xanatopia's invasion had been hindered by similar thinking. By the time the individual governments had realized that they could not make a separate peace with the invaders, there were too few of them to do anything but provide an object lesson. All organized resistance had been crushed ruthlessly and very publicly.
Dismissing such grim thoughts, the general motioned them all to follow. "Let's get the debriefing started. There's still a lot to do." They settled in the conference room and began to relate the evening's success.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Fifteen mutate soldiers, not a bad night's work," Chavez nodded approvingly. "I'm especially intrigued by the spell you used Aiden. An SEP field you called it?" Aiden nodded.
"I've already taught the spell to your world's Angela and to Albert here," she nodded at the unassuming resistance fighter who, much to the surprise of the people who knew the former janitor, had taken to learning magic like a fish takes to water. "It will take them time to become proficient, especially since the spell has only a limited affect on machines. I'm still working on that." Chavez nodded. That would be a problem, especially with what she had planned.
"A good night's work nonetheless, but we've go to do better." She glanced around the table. "That's part of the reason I asked our guests here to join us." She indicated Aiden and T.J. "The Resistance leaders from cells all over the state have been organizing for a very special mission." She rose and moved to the wall and pulled down a screen.
"We've learned that the new arms factory on Long Island is about to go on line. In three days that facility will have the best security on the planet, and it will begin turning out mutates, steel clan robots, plasma rifles, and every other kind of weapon you care to name." There were murmurs around the table. "We've also learned that Xanatos is going to be here to oversee the opening of the facility." That got their attention.
"We're going to take out one of the Triad?" Morgan asked incredulously.
"No, unfortunately it's only our world's Xanatos, but enough of a victory. He hasn't shown himself in public in months, and we all have debts to settle with that traitor," there were murmurs of agreement at the general's words. "We have a chance to strike a telling blow against Xanatopia, and it's not a matter of whether we should. If that factory starts to produce weapons and soldiers at full capacity, we won't stand a chance."
"The Triad has to know this," Marshall put in. The former reporter glanced around the table looking for support. "Which means they'll be waiting for us to try something. Losing their 'local governor' would create serious headaches for them here. The retaliation is likely to be brutal."
"I know Travis, but we don't have many options. I think we may have found a way though. It's very risky, but with the help of our friends here, we have a chance at pulling it off." She had their attention, now she just had to sell them on the idea. Bracing herself mentally, she plunged ahead.
OOOOOOOOOO
Travis Marshall left the briefing feeling less than confident. He had been supportive of the general's plan, mainly because he had no better ideas. It had a chance of working, but only if they were very lucky. Well, a small whimsical voice in the back of his mind said, we'll just have to be lucky.
Exhausted, he made his way back to the bunk room. It was actually a conference room in the office building they used as headquarters, but it had been converted when they took up residence. The Resistance fighters who lived there were those who couldn't risk being seen in public. Either they had been linked to the Resistance and were being actively hunted or, like Travis Marshall and the general herself, their faces were too well known. In order to fight effectively, they had had to disappear.
Former police commissioner Maria Chavez and former WVRN reporter Travis Marshall had little in common, except for a dedication to throwing off Xanatopia and getting their world back. It was enough though. They had clashed occasionally before the invasion, in their professional capacities, and they still clashed, disagreeing about strategies and mission priorities, but they hid their disagreements for the sake of their common cause.
Just thinking of that cause and the fight ahead of them was exhausting. Marshal gave a tired wave to Mac, who was reading an old copy of Reader's Digest, and collapsed on the next bunk. He would have been happy to doze off right then and there, but Mac seemed determined to talk in his sleep.
"Heard about the fun tonight," Mac commented, "congrats." Travis gave an inarticulate grunt in response. "Saw Dr. Shannon today. She says my leg'll be good as new in a couple of days, then I can get out there again."
"Good for you." Travis' indifference showed clearly in his sleepy voice. "Can I go to sleep now?" Mac shot him a sour look and dog-eared the page he was on before putting the magazine down and turning off the overhead light.
"Good night," he muttered. Travis snored loudly in response. Mac had given up grumbling about that and just did as he always did. He folded the pillow around his ears and managed, after a few minutes, to go to sleep.
As Mac's breathing settled into the calm, steady rhythm a shadow detached itself from Travis Marshall and rose to its feet. Taking a moment to examine the sleeping men, it muttered a brief charm to ensure that they remained asleep before turning and walking out through the wall.
The shadow found her waiting where they had agreed. It took on substance and form as it approached the woman by the window of the office three stories above the Resistance's hiding place.
"How are they doing?" the woman asked, before the shadow could speak.
"They're a brave group of people, but they can't last long alone. Especially not with what they have planned."
"I know. It's a bold plan, but it can't work, not without a little help." Janet Xanatos turned and smiled at her old friend. "I assume that's why you're here."
"Me? What about Delta Flight? Aren't you getting involved?" The head of Delta Flight shook her head.
"We can't. Our resources are sort of stretched right now. I know you've been out of the loop for a while, so you probably haven't heard. The Cromags attacked Earth 153 and Earth 184. It looks like negotiations have broken down for good this time." The shadow scowled.
"I told you this would happen. I told you months ago."
"I know, but talking bought us time to prepare. It won't be easy, but once we drive them back, we should be able to lock them out of the Nexis permanently. You know as well as I do that Delta Flight is responsible for the hundreds of alternate Earths that make up the Nexis. Right now the Cromags are the bigger threat to us. That has to take priority."
"I know," the shadow said resignedly. "I also know that it won't be enough. You know the Mags will keep attacking other worlds. They may even crack their home-world someday, then we'll have real problems."
"For the moment, it's all we can do. Their Empire is huge, and it continues to grow." She shook her head. "One crisis at a time though. Can you help these people? Will you?"
"Of course. Even I have to be subtle though. I can't be a deus ex machina for them. Or for anyone," she added warningly.
"I know. I know you're restrictions, and I've maintained the illusion of your death as you requested. I guess I'll have to live with that. It's not easy on the others though." For a moment, it looked as if she might say more, but then thought better of it. She knew better than to try to second guess her old friend.
The shadow took on a conciliatory tone. She knew she was asking a lot and that Janet hated not knowing all of her reasons, "I'm afraid it's necessary." The conversation was becoming difficult, so she decided to end it quickly. "I know you're pressed with the Cromags and all, but this situation bears closer attention. Xanatos' discovery that the Phoenix Gate can carry people to alternate worlds is very dangerous."
"Right now Xanatopia is a small problem-"
"Small problems grow into big ones. We fertilize them with carelessness and water them with tears." Her voice faded for a moment, and she shook her head to clear away a memory. "The Triad uses a combination of magic and science that will, in time, make them very dangerous to us. There may be only one gate per world, and that has limited them so far, but it won't be long before they hit on the trick of producing the same results artificially. You know the problems we've had keeping that secret out of the hands of other would-be conquerors."
That brought Janet up short. It was something that happened far too often for her tastes. Trans-dimensional travel was far too easy, once you understood certain basic principles. The intuitive leap that led to the discovery happened more often than anyone in the organization liked. Discovery and misuse of the technology was a recurring headache for Delta Flight and the primary reason the organization existed.
The worlds of the Nexis, many unknowing, enjoyed the protection of Delta Flight, and new worlds were brought in as opportunity allowed or need dictated. Xanatopia wasn't the first or most dangerous threat the organization had ever faced. It wasn't even the most dangerous threat they faced at the moment. Nevertheless, Janet had to admit her friend had a point.
"I'll present your concerns to the council. We should be able to spare a few agents to look into it discreetly. What about you? Will Melissa Fay be joining the Resistance?"
"I'll do what's necessary here. You have other things to worry about." Janet nodded, then turned away. She triggered the small device on her belt and vanished. The woman Janet Xanatos had referred to as Melissa Fay allowed herself a smile. Janet had been playing detective again, which was somewhat ironic. And irony was something Melissa was uniquely qualified to appreciate.
She considered, briefly, actually revealing herself and joining the Resistance, but discarded the notion immediately. There wasn't enough time for such a charade, and she despised unnecessary duplicity anyway. Sticking to the shadows was her best option. That decision made, she turned and merged once again with the darkness.
OOOOOOOOOO
Matthew Bluestone moved his finger across the map, carefully tracing the route that Xanatos would follow. That route had been carefully planned to provide minimum exposure, but some exposure was necessary. When the de facto ruler of the planet officially dedicated the new factory he would be in plain view, and a perfect target despite the Steel clan robots and other security measures surrounding him. It wouldn't be easy, but a well-placed sniper with the right weapon could pull it off.
The patrols in the area surrounding the factory had been doubled in the last three days. New security protocols were in place, and if all else failed to protect Xanatos the latest gift from the Triad, a vastly improved energy shield that had been secretly installed around the factory, could be activated. Xanatos was certain that the Resistance was unaware of its existence.
It would come as quite a surprise when they attacked the factory, as Xanatos was sure they would. Every one knew what was at stake, and what it would mean for the Resistance when the factory became fully operational. Hearing footsteps behind him, Matt turned to see Owen approaching.
"Mr. Bluestone, are the plans for the dedication complete?"
"Just double checking everything now," he replied. "I'd like to get a couple of more steel clan robots to position here," he pointed at the roof of a building half-way along the route, "and here," he indicated another roof two blocks from the factory. "That should do it." Owen nodded.
"After last night's attack, the extra units will have to be pulled from duty elsewhere. I leave the details to you." Without another word Mr. Xanatos' personal assistant turned and left. Bluestone grimaced and moved over to his terminal where he called up a list of current resources. There were three steel clan robots now patrolling the area where the mutate patrol destroyed the previous night had been slated to be. Tapping a few keys, he quickly reassigned one of them. It was unlikely the Resistance would strike again in the same area so soon. They were too cautious for that.
He reassigned another from duty at the castle. The dedication ceremony would take place during the day, so there was no chance of winged visitors while the number of guards was down. Even without the robots, the lower floors of the Eyrie building had too many automated defenses and alarm systems for anyone to break in easily or at least quietly. He had one more thing to do, and then everything would be ready.
Matt was intent on his preparations and failed to notice the shadow detaching itself from the wall and moving through the room to the table where it looked over his shoulder for a moment, nodded briefly and faded away. She paused briefly though and reached up to flick his left ear with one manicured nail.
He winced and turned quickly, but there was no one in the room. "Damn bugs," he muttered and turned back to his planning.
OOOOOOOOOO
General Chavez frowned at the screen and sighed. "All right, what if we pull this group back a couple of minutes early, leave an automated emplacement there? Would that increase our chances of getting them out safely?"
Sidney, their resident computer expert considered this, without entering the new parameters. "I don't know general. The autos we got aren't all that reliable. Automated emplacements could replace our people here," he tapped the map on a second screen, "here," another point on the map, "and here, but if something goes wrong with any one of them the whole mission could fall apart."
"True, but this is a fall back position. It's intended to buy our teams time to escape. It might be worth considering if we give one of the autos a thorough overhaul."
"We have time to do one, but not more than that." He thought for a moment and then brightened. "Hey! What about T.J.? He's supposed to be some kind of wonder with machines." Chavez was already shaking her head.
"He's got a more important assignment right now. If he finishes early then we can have him look at the autos."
"Yes general. May I ask?"
"No. What we're doing is risky enough. The more people who know the details, the greater chance there is of a leak. If someone who knows is captured" Sidney was nodding, understanding the necessity of secrecy despite his curiosity. They only had two days until the opening and there was still a lot to do. Messengers were still coming and going, coordinating the last stages of the attack. It wasn't going to be easy, especially with the increased security. The number and frequency of patrols around the factory had increased almost three-fold. The general populace, especially those people who lived anywhere near the factory, was growing edgier by the day.
Chavez had to sympathize with the people who were caught in the middle. They were frightened and demoralized, and frankly, dangerous. Many covertly supported the Resistance, some opposed it because of Xanatos' retaliations against the public. It had become increasingly difficult to know friend from enemy. It was easy to say one would die for a cause, not so easy to do. It was harder still to watch friends and family do the dying.
Chavez sighed. "All right. Put Mac and Jake on it. They should be able to get at least one operational. Also have them rig some dummy units with bombs set for remote detonation."
"Okay. What good will that do, though? The robots won't pay any attention to guns that aren't shooting at them."
"Rig those guns with motion detectors aimed toward the sky. I want them to blow when the robots get within range or when we need them to. That should create extra confusion for the robots and maybe eliminate a few."
"That'll create a lot of collateral damage. We should choose the spots carefully," Sidney pointed out even as he made notes for the men who would be doing the work.
"Agreed. I wish it weren't necessary at all, but we can't ignore a potential avenue of attack." Sidney didn't look happy, but he said nothing.
OOOOOOOOOO
Melissa Fay moved through the shadows of the large underground garage. T.J. was hard at work on the 'special project' the general had assigned him. In another part of the structure, a group of people were working hard on repairing and overhauling several automated gun emplacements. She assessed the progress of each project. T.J. was coming along well, but the autos were in sorry shape.
She lent a hand where she could, ensuring that faulty components would hold together under stress and providing inspiration with a quiet whisper here and there. They didn't need much of the latter. Two years under Triad rule had taught the Resistance fighters how to be creative. They could improvise impressively, but some of their cobbled together weaponry needed a little of her brand of 'luck' to work properly.
It had been a busy day for her. In the last eight hours she had visited each Resistance cell that was involved in the plan. She had done everything she could to aid the Resistance. It would still be difficult and dangerous. Melissa wished she could do more for them, but she couldn't run the risk of intervening directly.
She had done that once. Never again. Her intentions had been good, the best. The cause had been noble, helping a conquered people to throw off a terrible alien oppressor who was systematically destroying them. The aliens had been bent on genocide, she had had to help, but she hadn't simply made the victory possible, she had ensured it by acting directly against the aliens.
The results of that one misguided attempt had led to the decimation of their civilization. Thousands died as the oppressors became the oppressed. The people she had helped seemed determined to give as well as they had gotten. Then the aliens retaliated with the weapons of mass destruction they'd secreted away and millions more died. The invaders were gone, but the people she had tried to protect were all but destroyed, their civilization lay in ruins. She looked in on them from time to time, her conscience would not let her rest, and it wouldn't let her run the risk of making a similar error again.
After that disaster, she had sworn that she would never again allow that to happen. She had been very careful since then, limiting the help she granted and choosing her time and place carefully. Doing even this much bothered her, but what she had told Janet was true. The Triad would continue to grow and threaten more worlds if they weren't stopped.
So she pitched in, carefully. It was important that they not know she was there. It was important that no one knew she was there, so she was careful. That was why it was so embarrassing to find Puck waiting for her as she approached yet another Resistance hiding place.
"Well, well, what have we here?" Puck stared directly at the patch of shadow where she had frozen in an effort to hide. Melissa sighed. Oh great, this is not what I need right now.
"What do you want?"
"Tsk-tsk such manners. We haven't even been introduced yet. I am.."
"Xanatos' lackey. I know who you are." Puck recoiled as if slapped. He took on a hurt look, clasping his hand over his chest in a melodramatic manner.
"You wound me madam. Lackey? Don't tell me you confuse me with Owen?"
Melissa rolled her eyes. "You haven't answered my question. What do you want?"
"Who are you and what do you want?" he countered. "You're the out-of-towner." Thinking quickly she stepped from the shadow, keeping her form and appearance vague. She knew only a little about this Puck's circumstances. She decided to go with a version of the truth.
"I am of the Third Race as are you, and my business is my own. Do not impede me."
"Such melodrama," Puck mocked. "It's been too long since I met one of my own kind. I think I should spend some time with you. Could be laughs. What are you doing, trying to sabotage Mr. X? That could be interesting too, especially since I would have to try to stop you." The Puck's eyes began to glow as he prepared a spell.
"Why is that? I see no chains on you. Why serve a mortal?" She made her voice deliberately condescending. "Has he tamed you then? Are you a good little dog?" The glow faded and Puck's eyes narrowed in anger, and she knew that she had found just the right button to push. So she pushed. "Growl for me little dog."
Her prodding had the desired effect he lashed out. She could feel his spell shaping in his mind before there was any outward sign. Melissa gestured casually and his spell misfired. There was suddenly a large rubber bone sticking out of the wall next to her with a flea collar dangling from it. She faked a yawn at Puck's incredulous look.
"I don't have time to play Puck, and I don't really want to hurt you. Why don't you ju-" Puck interrupted by casting a much more complex spell. On one level she was impressed. It was very well designed and solidly constructed. It would have been difficult to untangle, but it was child's play to redirect, at least for one with her power. The silver-haired Fay back-pedaled frantically, trying to counter his own magic, but didn't quite make it. A moment later a rather cute miniature poodle was standing before her barking indignantly.
"That's always been your problem Puck, you're so predictable in a fight." She added an enchantment of her own, to keep him from regaining his true form and power anytime soon. "Sorry about this, but I have work to do, and I can't have you mucking things up." She left the little dog barking frantically after her as she sped on her way.
OOOOOOOOOO
Everything was in place. Every detail had been seen to and every contingency planned for. Now there was only the waiting. Reports came in from the sentries every 15 minutes. Once the procession started for the factory the reports would come in every five minutes and keep arriving at that rate until Xanatos was back inside the castle. Bluestone was satisfied, but he once again reviewed the details and all of the possible avenues of attack regardless. There was only half an hour until the presentation.
OOOOOOOOOO
The Steel Clan robot standing at the north-west corner of the roof turned abruptly, having detected motion directly behind it. As it turned, it activated one of its primary deterrents, discharging its capacitors through its metal skin. It started to raise its arm, but never finished the motion. It stood stock-still as its internal systems tried to cope with the sudden rush of current through its electronic brain. At first it was just overwhelming, then the current took on definition and began to deliberately target specific areas.
A moment later it was over. The robot stood at the north-west corner of the building two blocks from the factory. It sent in an all-clear report on schedule and continued to watch for any potential problems. As it stood unaware, T.J. crawled away, back to the stairwell.
"You really need to work on that spell Aiden."
"Sorry," the mousy little gargoyle winced as she took in T.J.'s burned clothes. "Are you hurt bad?"
"No, just a little buzzed. Don't worry about it. Is that all of them?" Aiden consulted her list and nodded. "We're ready to go. I don't understand though, why we don't take out more of them?"
"Might attract attention. This little party'll be for nothing if any of us is spotted. Come on, let's get back." The two hurried away, Aiden couldn't help a few covert glances at the sun as she hurried down from the roof. She'd forgotten how beautiful it was. The spell she'd gotten from Demona that allowed her to stay awake during the day, was a true marvel. It was still hard to believe that the Demona of this universe was their ally though.
"Come on," T.J. groused, "we gotta go." Aiden fixed her mind firmly on business and they returned to the manhole by which they'd entered the building in the first place.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Matthew?" Bluestone looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and turned to face his employer. The de facto ruler of Earth was looking annoyed.
"Is something wrong Mr. X?"
"Have you seen Owen recently?" Bluestone frowned, thinking.
"He called about an hour ago and asked if everything was in place."
"Nothing since then?" Xanatos' head of security shook his head. "Hmm. It's not like Owen to disappear, something must have happened to him."
"I'll begin a systematic search immediately sir."
"We can't delay the opening," Xanatos stated firmly.
"Won't have to," Bluestone replied. "I can assign two men to it during the opening. It'll be enough of a start."
"Excellent. I'll leave it to you then." Xanatos turned and left the room. Matt Bluestone turned back to his work. There were no more preparations to make, no more precautions to take. Everything should go smoothly at the opening, but Burnette's disappearance troubled him. Xanatos was right, it wasn't like Owen to disappear. So what happened? He activated his intercom and ordered two of the human security force to come to his office.
OOOOOOOOOO
Captain Morgan led his team down the street toward the factory. None of them carried weapons, and they were dressed in street clothes, doing their best to blend into the crowd. The nearest of his crew, Mac, was ten feet to his left and a few steps ahead of him. Each member of his squad was what passed for an average citizen. Mac was a cook at a greasy spoon in midtown. Jack was a day laborer, who never held a job for more than a week or two. It kept him mobile, and kept people from paying him any attention.
The others had similarly undistinguished backgrounds. None were or had been soldiers or police officers except for Morgan himself, and he was officially retired, due to a wound received in the line of duty before the invasion. He used a cane in public though he didn't need one. Like the limp he affected, it was strictly for show. The length of seasoned hardwood had actually been designed as a weapon by a company that made martial arts weaponry. It had cracked the skull of more than one mutate soldier.
A platform had been built in the plaza before the factory. Cameras set up to capture every moment of the historic event covered every angle. Those gathering in the plaza were not even a hundredth of the people who would watch the dedication, they were simply window dressing for the event. A cheering crowd was needed to give the event the right feel.
The crowd was there, and many were actually enthusiastic about the event. The crowd was a mixed group. There were shop keepers who hadn't been robbed since Xanatopia assumed power. There were people, formerly considered unemployable who had gotten steady jobs in the reconstruction. There were people who valued order and discipline at any price. And there were people who were ordered to be there, and to cheer and to keep whatever reservations they had to themselves.
In among this mixed group were half-a-dozen men and women there to carry out specific tasks at specific cues. Two of them carried detonators disguised as wrist watches. Another carried a radio that would broadcast a jamming signal to confuse the steel clan robots and keep them from coordinating their actions.
The steel clan robots were not remote control, but they weren't that bright either. For complex operations involving more than one unit they needed to be able to communicate directly with each other and with a central controller. Disrupting that communication was crucial to the Resistance's plans for the attack.
Time seemed to crawl while they waited, each member of the team had time to grow nervous. Which, Morgan reflected, might be exactly the point. He began to grow nervous himself, not over the possibility of the mission's failure, but about what might be going through the minds of his men. They had each had a fair amount of experience at waiting. Waiting, the old saying went, was the worst part, and some of his people weren't all that patient.
Xanatos and his retinue finally made their appearance. He was flanked by two Steel Clan robots, standing before the crowd making a perfect target of himself, or so it seemed.
The new arms factory, he assured everyone, would guarantee the peace and safety of the city, offering protection from external and internal threats.
Yada, yada, yada Morgan thought as he began his mental countdown. Exactly three minutes after David Xanatos had taken the stage and begun his speech the Steel Clan robots that stood flanking him were flung back, hitting the ground hard and in several pieces. The air in front of Xanatos shimmered and there was a brief flare as the force field the two specially equipped robots had been generating vanished. Xanatos didn't even look up to see where the shots had come from.
Seemingly unconcerned, he reached down to a device on his belt the size of a pager and pressed a button there. He pressed it even as, seconds behind the first shots another caused the stage behind him to detonate. His form rippled slightly, but there was no other effect. Hologram. Morgan cursed silently and activated a short range radio burst to his squad. Seconds later the planned diversion started. The first part of their plan, the assassination of Xanatos, was gone, but the rest of it could still work, if Xanatopia security did its usual first -rate job. If they screwed up, however, all bets were off.
Alarms began to sound inside the factory and in the surrounding buildings as the crowd began to scatter. The factory had reason to be sounding alarms. The rest were the result of timers attached to the security systems of the nearby buildings. Explosives concealed at key points were detonated, hurrying the crowd on their way and adding to the confusion. Morgan didn't linger. Like the rest, he began to retreat from the square, blending in with the panicking crowd, or trying to anyway.
Two men he had not noticed before so skillfully they blended in with the crowd, seized his arms and hustled toward one of the security checkpoints at the edge of the square even as the automated emplacements the resistance had set up opened up on the factory. He kicked himself for not spotting them. They had been no more observant or suspicious looking than any other member of the crowd. They hadn't been watching for possible resistance spies, which meant that they must have known ahead of time who to pick up. There must be a spy in the Resistance.
The realization made him hesitate and his captors, anticipating resistance, tightened their grip on him and moved faster, even as the intensity of the fire directed toward the factory picked up.
The autos had been programmed to activate in sequence. The assassination attempt on Xanatos (no one had expected it to be that easy) would draw security away from potentially more vulnerable targets. The goal had always been to destroy the factory itself after all. Unfortunately, each of the snipers and automated weapons only managed a few shots before being forced to retreat or, in the case of the autos, being destroyed. Morgan knew that good people were dying. With only a handful of autos, most of the sniping had been left to living agents. Not all of them could fall back or change their vantage in time, but the objective was too important. Morgan was just glad that they had managed to get as many of the machines working as they had.
He heard explosions from incoming and return fire as he and two others from his squad were taken from the checkpoint to the factory itself, under heavy guard. Mac had been caught, as well as Madeline, a middle-aged woman, a dowdy and unassuming type that most people wouldn't have looked at twice. Xanatopia security had definitely known who they were looking for. He spent the rest of the trip running down a brief list of suspects, and trying to reason out the extent of the damage to the Resistance movement.
Xanatos himself was waiting for them. In the factory's main control room the tyrant was waiting with a gloating smile on his face. With him was Matthew Bluestone. Morgan's jaw tightened at the sight of the former police detective. He had never really gotten to know the man in the old days. Bluestone had only been with the department for a short time when Xanatopia invaded. There was no reason for any bitterness toward him. Well, no more than he felt toward any of Xanatos' other flunkies. Nevertheless, Bluestone's choice to work for the tyrant felt like a personal betrayal.
Morgan dismissed these thoughts to look around him. The place was ultramodern and almost sterile. Gleaming consoles lined the walls. Every aspect of the factory's operation, Morgan saw, could be handled from this room, and no expense had been spared in making it perfect. It was built to be more than functional, more than efficient. It was intended to make a statement, and Morgan found it extravagant to the point of absurdity.
He continued to look around, openly curious about the place. Despite all of the attention to detail, something seemed to be missing. It took him a moment to realize what was odd about the scene. It wasn't that something had been overlooked in the design or construction. Burnette wasn't there.
Xanatos' personal assistant, who always seemed to follow him like a shadow, was no where to be seen. Where was he? Xanatos interrupted his musings.
"Ah, Captain Morgan! How good of you to join us. I do wish Chavez herself had come out for the opening, but I suppose that was a bit much to hope for." Morgan didn't respond, staring straight ahead. "Oh come now, no need to be glum. This is a time for celebration. With your colleagues wasting their resources on this futile attack it will be a simple matter to rout them out and put an end to all of this senseless destruction. Then our lives will be trouble free. I don't suppose you would like to assist me toward that goal?" No response. "Ah well. You'll come around, one way or another." He nodded to the guards, "Lock them in the holding cell here. We'll tend to them when this business is over."
Whatever else he was planning to say was interrupted by an explosion louder and closer than any that had preceded it. Morgan had not been able to hear the battle from inside the factory. The place was apparently very well built. The outside of the building might be taking a pounding, but there was no sign of it inside. Clearly they had underestimated the defenses.
Xanatos looked up sharply at the sound of the explosion. "Bluestone?"
"Yes sir. It sounded like a stinger."
"Where did the Resistance get that?"
Bluestone thought quickly. "The New Jersey shipment. They must have stolen some before they blew it."
"How many?" Xanatos demanded. He looked at Morgan who remained mute.
Bluestone shook his head. "Hard to say. They used a half block of C-4. Drop a sack of oranges off the castle wall, then tell me how many were in the sack. They could have more."
"Very well, raise the shield. It will take a lot more than a stinger missile to get through that." Bluestone was already tapping commands into a palmtop computer.
"Done sir."
It immediately grew quiet again. The missile had obviously breached the outer wall, but the sounds of the fire fight outside that could be heard through the breach, were abruptly cut off. Morgan glanced at his watch and realized that it was almost over. Less than three minutes had passed, and by now most of the Resistance had withdrawn. The Steel Clan and mutate soldiers would be swarming all over the outside, trying to track down those responsible for the attack. Morgan only hoped that Aiden's spell allowed the others to escape. It was too late for those inside, for anyone inside. He allowed himself a slight smile.
"Mr. Xanatos something is odd here."
"What?" Xanatos turned from the gloating he had been about to start, and came over to look at the screen that his head of security was scrutinizing.
"Odd readings from the shield generator. There is a power drain on the main generator. Energy is being siphoned off to some other system."
"Which system?" Bluestone shook his head.
"I can't tell. I'll order a search immediately." Xanatos turned to his prisoners in time to catch Morgan's smile.
"Care to let me in on the joke?" he asked in a deceptively mild tone. Morgan glanced up at a clock on the wall, his smile broadened. Xanatos followed his gaze and it suddenly fell into place. "Shut down the shield generator. Now!" Bluestone headed for one of the workstations dedicated to the factory's defensive systems. It was only a few steps away, but he didn't reach it.
The building shook, throwing him and everyone else in the room to the floor. Morgan pushed himself up, still smiling at Xanatos. "I'm so glad you could be here for this."
OOOOOOOOOO
The special project T.J. had worked so hard on worked perfectly. A small, inconspicuous device drew power slowly from the shield generator it had been attached to and shunted it, through the buildings electrical system, to another device hidden in the armament storage room of the factory. The power built up until the potential energy had reached sufficiently high levels and triggered a discharge powerful enough to start the chain reaction. The particle beam rifle power packs, plasma cannon energy cores and all of the much more conventional ammunition destined to be packed into the weapons the factory was to produce made very effective fuel for the simple electrical fire that started in one of the storage rooms.
The shield generator was very well armored and it contained the explosion nicely, actually turning the force of blast back on the factory like a monster trying to devour itself.
General Chavez found that a very apt metaphor as she watched the videotape of the factory's destruction. She almost smiled as she thought of the soft chuckle that would draw from Morgan when she shared it with him. Then she remembered. Morgan. Mac. Madeline the thoughts trailed off as she stifled her grief. There had been others killed that day, and she chided herself for forgetting them, even for a second.
They weren't the first, and they won't be the last, she reminded herself. The war isn't over yet, not by a long shot. Xanatopia had been dealt a serious blow, and they weren't going to take it well. There would be reprisals. That was a certainty, but those reprisals would only bring more people over to the Resistance. The movement would grow with every act of tyranny and someday, the invaders would be driven out.
Even now Resistance cells around the world were taking advantage of the sudden power vacuum. Bombs had gone off in key facilities. Prominent puppets had been assassinated. That part made Chavez wince privately, but it had had to be done. All over the planet targets of opportunity were being hit. It looked like random chaos at first glance, but an overall plan was in motion. It wouldn't take Xanatopia long to realize that though.
Here we go again, she thought ruefully. No time to grieve. Before one battle has even been won we've already laid out plans for the next. The video was part of the plan. A copy was being broadcast from pirate stations around the world. Proof that the enemy was not invulnerable, that victory was possible. It was just another type of battle.
Well. Let's get on with it.
THE END