Chapter 18
They were still experimenting with illusions a minute later when Lung re-appeared, having regenerated enough to again take off and fly, wreathed in his own flames, towards the ferries fleeing towards, and nearly at, the battleship.
"I'll try a 12 inch gun this time, and see if he stays down a little longer." Simon ventured.
"Hold on a sec," Boz said, "I have an idea I want to try."
He consulted briefly with Ron and Simon, then deeming it possible, coordinated with the rest.
Then all took their positions and prepared.
A moment later, as expected, Lung roared a challenge and punctuated it by breathing out a blast of flame.
Immediately after that, before Lung's fire-burst had even dissipated completely, there was an answering roar and burst of flame.
A 350 foot tall Go-Jira burst up out of the waters of the bay, then roared and breathed fire in manners very similar to how Lung had done, only much, much louder, and bigger.
Ron's illusory Go-Jira breathed its fire all over Lung, completely obscuring him from vision while the flame-blast lasted.
While Lung was obscured by the cloud of flame, Captain Boz opened a teleportation portal - with dimension-hopping enabled on it - in the air just above Lung.
Simon and Abe then both activated the consoles they'd had ready.
Simon reversed the gravity on Lung so he'd fall up, and magnified that gravity to be 5 times its usual strength.
Abe shoved Lung upwards with telekinesis, with all the force that console could generate.
So Lung shot through the portal like a bullet, after which they closed the portal.
Ron then included some ash raining down from where Lung had been, as if he'd been totally incinerated.
Then he had his Go-Jira march quickly to the shore, and one after the other, pick up the dump-trucks full of fish the PRT had left there as Go-Jira bait, then empty them into its mouth, chew, and swallow.
Of course the illusion had no actual power to pick things up, so what they had really done was to have Abe wait till the right time, then pick up and up-end the dump-trucks using telekinesis, while Ron did his best to make the illusion's movements match those actions.
They could have let the fish fall through the illusion and into the sea below, hidden by the illusion. But if any of the fish floated, that would have given the PRT a clue that something did not add up. So instead they opened another teleport portal through which the fish fell - not into their own cargo holds as had been suggested, but into the open sea 3000 miles away. They could have used the fish for Mars Colony, but did not trust that the PRT had not poisoned them in some subtle way.
For the same reason, they did not keep the dump trucks, but just dropped them on the beach instead, where any subtle tracking devices that may be in them would not tell the PRT anything useful.
Then the illusion of the 350 tall lizard-like Go-Jira marched back out to sea and submerged.
After that, Ron dismissed the illusion and they all had a good laugh.
Ron cleared his throat. "My hat is off to you, your Captain-ness, that was a great prank. It should keep those PRT goons guessing for a long time. But tell me again, where did we send the little - by comparison - lizard?"
Boz grinned, "dimension 211 - the one where no animal life exists on Earth. So he will have no humans to pick on. It will just be him, plants, insects, and fish there on Saint Helena island."
"Saint Helena? Isn't that where Napoleon Bonaparte ended up in exile?" Beth asked.
"Yep, we sent him to that same island, for that same reason - it's a very long way away from anything else, so he won't be causing anyone any more trouble." Boz said.
"Good," Ron offered his opinion, "he was one determined little lizard and I was starting to wonder how I'd get any sleep tonight, with the big guns going off every few minutes to keep putting him down."
"Speaking of sending folks away," Beth spoke up, "you said to remind you - when the ferries were within a couple minutes or arriving back at the battleship - to send off the rocket-junks full of captured PRT troops."
"Oh, yeah, Thanks." Boz replied. "I'll go let the two captured capes loose to go with them too."
"Just like that?" Ron demanded. "You're missing a golden opportunity for some Grade A pranking. Let me do it and I'll show you."
A moment later Ron was at the door of the brig where KidWin and Dauntless - the captured Protectorate capes - were being held.
Several GP robots were with him, two of which had hidden cameras and were filming.
Mostly the robots held big guns and were there for intimidation.
Ron addressed the prisoners, "Well, I have good news and bad news for you. The good news is that we have no further use for you, and our monster isn't hungry, so we can let you go."
The prisoners looked somewhat relieved, and somewhat worried, but had no time before Ron continued.
"You'll be leaving with the captured PRT troopers, in some rocket-powered Chinese junks, and sail back to Brockton Bay that way, if you get there in time. They depart in 2 minutes, and that brings me to the bad news."
.
He gestured and a GP robot set up a folding table.
"You see," Ron continued, "we need assurance that you won't attack us again, so you have to fill out and sign a few forms before you can go."
He gestured and another GP robot thumped a 4 inch tall stack of papers down onto the table.
"Those have to be finished in," he looked at his watch, "about a minute and a half, or you'll miss your ride and have to swim back to Brockton Bay. That's 3 miles in freezing cold water. I can see that may be tough, but our hands are tied: the schedules are set, and bureaucracy bends for no-one. I'm sure you can appreciate our situation: these papers are necessary to guarantee our security."
The looks on the faces of the two prisoners were priceless.
Ron felt it was a triumphant prank, even if it went no further.
KidWin managed to stammer out, "bureaucracy? I thought you were some kind of authoritarian group: on a previous visit, you mentioned you reported to someone called The Great and Powerful Snod. Can we appeal to him?"
Ron laughed, "You've got me there: we hate bureaucracy. Snod, the wise and powerful, actually opposes it vigorously. So there is another option - it's quick, and simple, but I don't think you'll like it..."
"What is it?" demanded Dauntless
"Each of you must both sing and dance the 'I'm a Little Teapot' song, complete with arm gestures - the works - and let us film it. We will keep it strictly to ourselves unless you ever attack us again. If you do, it goes public. We suppose that such public embarrassment would be enough motivation to keep you away."
Again the looks on their faces were priceless.
Ron held out a sheet of paper "this printout will remind you how it all goes - words, arm gestures and so forth."
After a moment, KidWin took the printout, saying, "I'd much rather look like a fool than fill out all those forms."
Dauntless thought about it for a moment, then agreed.
The music played, they danced and sang, and Ron filmed, while barely able to keep himself from busting a gut laughing.
Then they were all on their way to where the wooden boats full of PRT troopers were moored, again, to the side of the battleship.
As they walked, Ron said, "tell the tin woodsman - you know, the heartless metal man with an ax, whom you report to - that you gave us your parole. Society mostly doesn't use that phrase that way anymore, but it used to mean that, in exchange for being released, you solemnly promised not to participate in this fight again. Maybe telling him that will prevent you from ordering you to come fight again."
They reached the ship's railing, but before descending the cargo net down into the Chinese junk below, KidWin asked, "will our Tinker Tech start working again, or do we need to replace it?"
Ron smiled, and waved to a nearby GP robot, which brought him two drinking glasses full of clear liquid. Ron knew it to actually be 100% pure alcohol, which he figured should be safe to apply to electronics.
He handed the glasses to the two capes, saying, "we drained their mojo, but here it is, suspended in alcohol, so you can put it back in. Be careful not to spill any, and don't drink it, just apply some to the tech gear and it will flow around and get in. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the mojo doesn't get back into the Tinker Tech it came from just by being in such close proximity."
He smiled as he watched the capes slowly climb down into the wooden boat below. Being extra careful not to spill anything from the open-topped glass made it take longer, and that was part of the prank.
When they stepped down into the junk, Ron called "watch out for the take-off! It's quite vigorous! You should probably move a bit towards the front of that boat, so you don't fall off the back when it starts."
While the 2 capes did so, GP robots finished 'casting off' - which meant untying some ropes so the junks were no longer tethered, but could move freely.
Then the rockets ignited and Dauntless and KidWin were knocked flat on their backs by the sudden acceleration. When they fell, they spilled the glasses full of alcohol and 'mojo' all over themselves.
Ron was laughing inside as all four junks sped away from the battleship, headed towards Brockton Bay to release the PRT troopers and Protectorate capes who had been prisoners.
He reflected that, while the lie about 'mojo' was important - because it was always a bad idea to give your opponent free information which he will use against you, and a similarly good idea to try to confuse your enemy about what was really happening - it was also important to keep things funny, when you can.
So much of life was so serious, it could really bring you down if you didn't seek out lighthearted stuff as well.
As a case in point about serious stuff, Ron could see that the ferries were almost back - just two hundred yards from the battleship. Ferries full of recently freed slaves and prostitutes, who'd just run a gauntlet - being shot at in almost every possible way.
Everybody had exited the LAV's and were milling about, talking, looking over battle damage, and other such things. They acted more or less normal, but Ron knew they would need careful treatment.
Beth's voice sounded in Ron's ear, "that was mean. You humiliated Dauntless and KidWin just for fun."
"The only thing hurt was their pride," Ron fired back, "and it's actually helpful to trim that back regularly. Capes, because they have super-powers, probably already have a problem with thinking they're better than everybody else. People who take themselves too seriously have more health problems, generally. They are prone to getting into trouble by biting off more than they can chew. They tend not to learn anything because they start to believe they know it all.'
He took a breath, "besides it does actually help us to have them promise not to attack us again. Who knows what they may come up with next time - it may actually be a threat. We don't want to lose any of our lives to a surprise such as that. Bureaucracies really do use stacks of forms to try to guarantee that people will keep their promises - which we have just guaranteed far more effectively, which do you prefer?"
Beth sounded suspiciously amused as she replied, "so you're saying that If you start getting too full of yourself, you tend to start seeing other people as mere objects, and treating them that way?".
"Yes."
"Like you just treated them?" She laughed.
"Touche!" Ron laughed too. "I am defeated - cut to the quick, and bound up in my own arguments. My hypocrisy is revealed, and I stand before you a laughing-stock... except" he paused to emphasize the point, "the crucial difference here, is that I do not take myself seriously. Not at all. The argument thus loses its motive force. The argument also loses it's point, in that I am not treating them as objects. That requires a total unconcern for what happens to them and what matters to them. Yet if they attack us again, we may have to fight back with all we've got. If so, they may lose their lives. Balance that against some humiliation - private, not public humiliation - and I can make a good case for having their best interests at heart. Besides," he grinned a huge grin, "it was really really funny!"
Boz joined in, "there's something to all of that. Even the ancient Romans recognized that pride is destructive. When they celebrated a Triumph - which for them was a major parade and party in recognition of some significant achievement, like taking over all of Spain - whomever was being honored at the Triumph had a slave standing next to him, repeating the phrase 'remember you are mortal' so they didn't get too impressed with themselves and foolishly try something beyond their capacity, like taking the Emperor's place."
Further discussion was cut off by the arrival of the ferries
GP robots securely tied ferries 1 and 2 - each with 3 LAV-25's - near the front 12 inch turret on the battleship.
Staircases, designed for such boarding operations, had been let down.
People - some of them clutching the possessions they had rounded up before leaving their former place of employment - came hurrying up the staircases, and onto the battleship's deck.
Ferry 3 pulled up to the rear of the ship and had the truck lifted off it by the ship's telekinesis.
The truck settled to the rear deck of the battleship, for later sorting through its contents.
Then ferry 3 got dismissed.
By this time Ron, acting his friendliest - in 'people-person mode' as Boz liked to think of it - was guiding the people from the ferries into the ship's cafeteria.
Simon was already there to greet them, with soothing music playing and snacks and drinks for all.
They mingled for a short time, trying to help everyone decompress, when suddenly Ron was grabbed from behind, with a pistol shoved into his neck.
"Nobody move or the captain gets it!" the woman behind Ron yelled, apparently mistaking him for the ship's captain .
He had been acting like he was in charge, so it was an understandable mistake.
"Don't try anything or I'll detonate the bomb vest I'm wearing!" the woman added.
Beth's voice spoke in Ron's inner ear, so only he could hear it, "Ron, buy us two minutes."
The hostage taker was back to yelling, "now everybody lie face-down and cross your legs at the ankles, except you and you."
She must have indicated a couple guys with her eyes or by nodding, since her hands were busy holding a pistol, and also Ron's arm in some kind of martial arts hold.
The hostage taker shrugged and a strap slipped off her shoulder, dropping a backpack to the floor, while she continued talking, "that holds zip ties, which you," she nodded at someone again, "my first helper, will use to tie everyone's wrists and ankles together. It also has bombs which you," another nod indicated someone else, "my second helper, will distribute around the ship. Don't get any ideas about using them against me - they go off only when they get a signal from me. There's no way you can threaten me with them, so don't even think it. And if anyone doesn't comply, I'll blow us all up!"
Beth quietly spoke in the inner ears of Ron, and the two designated helpers, while Ron spoke and tried to buy time, "I say woman, unhand me this instant. I will not stand for this outrage. Do you know who you're dealing with here?"
She responded "I'm dealing with a dead man if you push me too far, now shut up."
"Insufferable!" Ron spluttered, trying to act the part of a British nobleman.
Then he took a risk, in order to fix her attention on him if he could, and exclaimed, "I demand that you attempt to see reason here. Just put down that gun, or better yet, hand it to me, and we can sit and talk this out like civilized people, not like this barbaric charade!"
She smacked him with the pistol, though not hard, or she'd have had to take it off-target & she wasn't willing to risk that, and said "What kind of fool do you take me for? That kind of mindless twaddle only works in movies. As if I'd get this far and then lay down my weapons - throw away everything I'm trying for - just because you asked me to! Hah! What Grade-A idiot movie-writer ever thought that made any sense?"
"That remains to be seen," Ron huffed, as helper 2 finished quietly exiting the room with the backpack full of bombs.
Then helper 1, having taken the rubber-band off the bundle of zip ties, and moving as if to start using them on the nearest person, dropped the bundle, and 'accidentally' kicked them, scattering them everywhere.
The hostage taker tensed and shrieked, "you did that on purpose! Now do it right or you'll all die!"
"You just can't hire good help anymore," Ron snarked, "especially at the prices you're paying."
His captor hit him again.
Beth updated Ron and helper 1, "Good, keep it up a little longer. Helper 2 has deposited the backpack of bombs in a rocket-junk, along with a couple signal jammers we Replicated. Soon it will be no more threat. Be clumsy and slow: she's playing at 'all or nothing' and won't actually detonate herself unless she thinks she is losing. Minor infractions like clumsiness will piss her off, but not be worth detonating over."
As if she'd heard part of that, though there was no way she could have - they'd long since tested such things to be sure - the hostage taker shrilled "hey, where is helper 2 with the bombs!"
Ron spoke calmly, "you asked him to distribute them around the ship - he went off to do so. He can hardly distribute them if he stays here."
She smacked him again, "shut up already, nobody asked you!"
"In point of fact you did precisely that." he replied, and got smacked again.
In the meantime, helper 1 was moving very slowly and clumsily.
Beth's voice whispered, "not much longer."
Ron feigned cheerfulness and said, "hey everybody, why so glum? Let's have some music to lighten the mood, and maybe some dancing too - I and my presumably lovely captor will start."
His captor screamed, "move and we all die!"
"Oh, come on!" Ron playfully chided, "there is no need to be so embarrassed about not being able to dance. I'll lead and we can start very slowly and carefully,"
He tugged a little, as if to take a small dance step, and she smacked him again.
Beth started a countdown "5...4...3..."
Ron kissed his captor's hand and said to her, as seductively as he could, "hey baby, we've been hugging so long I feel like we should really get to know each-other better - what's your name?"
She smacked him again, harder this time, and then suddenly she disappeared.
There was one brief sensation of rapid motion, and she was gone. She'd been prone to shrieking, yet didn't even have time to do that.
Ron carefully looked around to make sure, even as Beth's voice told him "we did the same thing to her that we did to Lung, but with Duplicates of Boz manning all the consoles so the timing for coordinating them would be perfect. She got shoved by ten gravities and 64000 tons of telekinesis through a portal above her into Dimension 211, and will be splashing down in the ocean next to Saint Helena island momentarily. They're putting up a couple spy satellites as I speak, so we can watch and see if she and Lung fight."
Ron grinned "Pay Per View, eat your heart out."
Then he announced to the room, "all clear now. The bad lady is gone and won't be coming back."
"That was no lady, that was Bakuda." someone quipped.
A little nervous laughter sounded, though not much - these people had just been through a lot.
Ron and Simon both did their best to calm them all.
They wanted to run them all through the hospital, but needed them a bit calmer first, so they could handle being split up.
While they circulated and spoke calming words, Ron and Simon also got updates from Beth.
"Sorry for the delay. We haven't dealt with this exact situation before and had to think about the options. If we had the security system taser her, we feared that may set off her explosive vest, so that was out. The safe gasses were unlikely to stop her - just impair her - and the other gasses like ether and chloroform were almost sure - at any concentration - to react poorly with someone in that crowded room. We didn't want death-by-anesthetic for anyone if it could be avoided. Rubber bullets, hoses of cold water and such wouldn't stop her in time either. Before we thought of sending her through a portal like we did to Lung, we almost went with using the Corrosion Console on you both. That was as tight as we could get the targeting, since it had to get both her gun and her bomb vest, and to get those we had to get you too. It would have corroded all non-living matter on you both down to mere dust in about a second. We figured that would be fast enough, and it would disable, then remove, her gun and bomb in time, but it would also remove the clothes on both of you. We feared that'd be traumatizing for all those recently-freed sex-slaves in the room."
Several possible jokes occurred to Ron, but he refrained this time.
Beth continued, "Speaking of traumatizing, how are you holding up Ron?"
"Fine." Ron replied, "I knew you all wouldn't let me down. Though I have a sore wrist where she was grabbing it - it got wrenched suddenly when she, ah, left."
"That's better than a hole in the head. We figured that at worst we could get you to the hospital before you could die, and it could fix you up. But your distraction worked and her gun was out of position just long enough. But how did you manage to make yourself kiss her hand? Didn't it make you feel dirty?"
"It would have if I'd done it subserviently - as a slave begging favors. But I did it mockingly - to make fun of her. So for me it was more like kicking her than anything else."
"OK. By the way, Dinah says that the hostage-taker was named Bakuda and was actually working for Lung as a bomb Tinker supporting his gang. Dinah says Bakuda was probably based at that hotel-turned-brothel making bombs there, and, about the time we got there, she probably went to an empty room, and chained herself to the bed, in order to hide by looking like just another one of the prostitutes chained up like that."
"That explains a lot," Ron muttered.
"Ooh, I've got to go now," Beth said cheerfully, "The friends of mine that you all rescued from that gang are getting out of the hospital all fixed up and ready to chat. And we have a lot of serious chatting we need to catch up on, especially with reassuring Becky about the repairs to her face where she got shot. Bye now."
Simon turned to Ron, said "back soon, keep it up," and left.
In the command center, Simon found the captain at the Determine Destiny Console.
Simon cleared his throat then addressed Boz. "I've been talking to the rescued girls and they want to get out of here."
Boz answered without looking up, "certainly. We never intended to keep them. They can leave as soon as they like."
"No," Simon replied, "they need that reset chemical first. They need it bad. They have a lot of trauma they need help getting over."
"Oh yah, the slavery" Boz agreed.
Simon nodded his head, "that too, but also the sex-worker burnout. Not every one of them was enslaved. Some believed the lie that sex is just care-free fun with no costs or downsides, so they joined up for that and the high pay too. From my time managing a hotel - we didn't encourage it by any means, but it goes on anyway and so you tend to pick up a general awareness of its realities - I know that very few so-called sex workers can stand it for very long, no matter what they get paid. Most quit after maybe 6 months and go work at something else - anything else, even low-paying menial stuff. Sex-work leaves them deeply damaged emotionally."
Boz was no longer paying attention to his console. "OK, so we give them the reset chemical, a tune-up in the hospital, and then let them go. where to?"
Simon smiled tiredly, "all over. Some want to go to nearby cities like Boston or New York. Some want to go places where they have family or friends. Others want to start over someplace totally new like California, just to get far away from their past. But all are terrified that they won't have enough money to make a new start and will have to go back to sex-work."
Boz nodded, "how is this: we'll give 'em chocolate and spices to get them started, so they can barter it for rent, groceries, and so on. Then we'll teleport them anywhere they want to go."
"Good, but they want guns too"
"Guns?" Boz asked.
Simon nodded, "yup. They've just been through an extended period where they had it proved to them, daily, that they can be pushed around and made to do things by those stronger than themselves. They are tired of that and want an equalizer - something so nobody can push them around. Guns."
Boz grinned, "They're thinking. That's good. We have lots of guns we took from the ABB gang and loaded in the truck. I had vague thoughts, there may be some unique pieces we could scan into the Replicator, and after that we could sell them or trade them or even just give them to any locals that we wanted to help. We want to help these locals, so we'll let them take what guns they want. Although," he cautioned, "we'll need to look through the truck first and see what survived. It got shot up pretty bad. There may be some cash we could give them too - enough for them to get on their feet, anyway."
"Thanks Boz-man," Simon grinned, "I'll go get them started cycling through the hospital."
"Do that," Boz agreed. "I'll get another Duplicate to look through the truck. I already have one on a Replicated rocket-junk checking out a bunch of stuff, including the backpack full of bombs we captured from Bakuda, the bandoleer of bombs we got from Oni-Lee, the thermite paint-balls we got from that last gang, the Containment Foam and solvent we got from the PRT truck we captured, and so on."
Boz looked almost grin as he continued, "I had three Duplicates there. Now I have one left. First they scanned everything with a remote scanner from the Replicator, so we can make more of anything that proves useful. Then they tried using the stuff, with another Replicated rocket-junk serving as a target. Two Duplicates ran into booby-traps, so I'm glad we were careful. And we will keep being careful until we have it all sorted out and it's safe to use whatever is left."
"That's great Boz, I look forward to playing with some of that stuff, once it's cleared. But I have to go now." Simon hurried off.