The TWILIGHT OF THE GODS -- Chap. 11

A Story of Mantra and Black September

By Aladdin and Christopher Leeson

Posted 10-23-24, revised 10-24-24
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The TWILIGHT OF THE GODS -- Chap. 11

A Story of Mantra and Black September
By Aladdin and Christopher Leeson

The moment one definitely commits oneself,
Then Providence moves too.
Whatever you think you can do,
Or believe you can do, begin it.
Action has magic, power.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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I was suddenly in a misty, insubstantial place. I would have flipped, except I was becoming used to this.

I looked back and saw Gabriel, not Evie. "Where have you snatched me away to this time?" I asked the short and pudgy scientist.

"This is the best I can do for a private meeting place so long as we are already in a zone of attenuated time,” he explained.

"If you say so. Did you fix the problem we’ve been having with communications?"

"There wasn't much to fix. The psionic blast you were subjected to damaged your nano-receptors, but they're self-repairing. Though you couldn't hear me, I was able to monitor your progress."

"I'm afraid I messed up and involved myself with local people. It's hard to focus when surrounded by faces I think I know."

"You've been proceeding splendidly. Warstrike has already agreed to lend you aid, and you’re preparing to meet with the opposing political faction. I would say that you have a natural instinct for time agent work."

"Spare me the flattery. When is Hunt arriving?"

"From all indications, she will arrive within several hours. We must use our time to cement friendly relations with both sides."

"But this world is still doomed! Isn't there anything we can do to prevent that?"

Through glumly pursed lips, Gabriel said, "I don’t see what we can do. If Amber Hunt takes the Time Gem away from this world, as she must, the local reality is unsustainable. It will be obliterated by the Nemesis Energy."

"And that’s all she wrote?"

"I'm sorry. It is."

"Gabriel, I need to ask you something."

"And what is that?"

"Can't we at least take a few people away with us? I'm talking about Evie and her family."

"Such a thing is possible.”

“Well, great! Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Because I wished to keep your thoughts focused on the mission.”

“Are time-clone people real or not?"

“They are. Most people in the Multiverse are time clones originating in other realities. ”

“So is there anything we can do to stop this catastrophe?"

“Saving an entire solar system is far beyond our capabilities."

“I'll keep that in mind," I said. "But what should we do about getting Evie's family out of here?"

“You should ask whether she's willing to exchange her universe for a new one."

“I need to go back and talk to her. Do you have any other advice?"

"I'm willing to leave all the details to you."

"Okay. So, what now?"

"I'd say it is a good idea for you to go talk to the rebel leaders."

"I'll get right on it.”

An instant later, Gabriel vanished along with the strange environment we had been occupying. I was back in that room with Evie. I heard her gasp.

"What's wrong, dear?" I asked.

"You blinked out of sight and now you've reappeared," she said incredulously.

"What happened to me was one of those crazy things that sometimes happen to ultras. They’re hard to explain, Button."

Evie startled. "N-Nobody's called me Button since – Mantra – died."

"Why should they? That was my special name for you."

"I know you’re not her, but you sound so much like my mother."

"And you're like my Evie, too. But I've come back with good news!" I said. "When I vanished, I met with that super-scientist who brought me here. He says you and your whole family are invited to come with us when we're ready to leave."

Her mouth gaped. "Are we all going to live together?"

"I can’t stay with you for very long. I have to go back to my own family. But I promise we won't part until I find you a safe and happy home."

She returned the cautious smile typical of children who have had their hopes shattered too many times to count.

"Can't we go now?"

"My job here isn’t finished. If I don’t do what I came to do, there won’t be a happy ending for anybody. In the meantime, ask Gus if he’d like to come with us. Do you want me to invite your stepdad to come with Jamie?"

"Yes, please!" she said.

I stepped up and kissed her cheek. I again said goodbye and repeated my attempt to exit the room. The door was locked, but my knock summoned a guard to open it for me.

#

Tark was waiting in the adjacent room. He gestured to a chair in front of him.

"What now? Shouldn't we be doing something?" I asked.

"We are. I sent my chamberlain, Nicolas Lone, into the neighborhood to make a truce with the rebels. I asked him to get their consent to meet with you. They knew the old Mantra when all of us were still working together. They should be curious enough about your reappearance to want to meet you.”

"Should I know this Nicolas Lone?" I asked.

"Maybe not. He used to have a public identity as that anti-mob avenger, Solitaire. He was the son of L.A.'s top mobster. He was injured and his life was saved by receiving some ultra wetware. Sometimes such operations bring about personality changes.

"In this case, it was a good change. Nick decided to use his new ultra abilities to become a nighttime avenger with a beef against mobsters -- especially his father."

I had read Solitaire's file at Aladdin. Their analysts had doubts about him, but on balance, he seemed to be a good guy. Of course, good guys are not what Aladdin is looking for. They keep their eye out for flawed types they can flip and makeover into Deep State agents -- spies, saboteurs, agent provocateurs, and traitors, mainly. "I'm glad to find that not all the people you're working with are ex-criminals," I told Brandon.

He shrugged. “It’s the luck of the draw.”

But I was less interested in Solitaire than in my adopted son, Gus. I asked Brandon about him, interested in finding out what sort of young man he had grown up to be.

"He's handy with computers, databases, and analysis," Warstrike replied. "We don't have much of a tech division here, but we have some tech people to tutor Gus."

"As a boy, he was handy at violent video games," I said.

"He has a lot on the ball, but you might not like the job I've given him."

"Have you made him a soldier?" I asked.

"You mean like you? No, he's the sort who enjoys delving into databases. He’s using the resources available to check people's personnel records. We're looking for the rebels we might win to our side, and what people on our side might be hiding troublesome red flags that make them untrustworthy."

"Are the red-flag people marked for execution?" I asked pointedly.

"Not always."

"Whatever you do, don’t make Gus a killer," I said firmly.

"Why? You thrived as a killer for a millennium and a half."

"I have, but I'm not proud of it. I want my son to have a clear conscience like I've never had."

"I want the same for Jamie. Just remember that most people who go bad choose that kind of life on their own. But I'm not going to encourage Gus to be violent."

A cloaked man stepped into the room. “This is Nicolas Lone,” Warstrike said.

This Lone guy had a face that some women might like, but he looked dangerous, as Sean Connery did as James Bond. Something about his eyes made me wonder whether his inexpressive face was a mask hiding something not so nice. Of course, the firearm he had slung over his shoulder reinforced that impression.

He looked at me and then at Warstrike: "One of our truce negotiators got through to the rebels. He's set up a parley with Mantra."

"That was fast work!" Brandon replied with a nod.

"The enemy was very interested to hear that Mantra was back!"

"When's the meeting?"

"The rebels said they’d have people at the Collab building at 1900. The deal is that Mantra and anyone with her will go to the building’s west side so they can be eyeballed from cover. If our people spot a threat, they’ll kill them all. If they look clean, their representatives will meet them."

"How far can we trust the other side?" Tark asked.

"They've been respecting truce flags up to now," Lone said.

"Do you know whether Mantra has any enemies on the other side that she should worry about?" Tark inquired.

"Not really," the chamberlain said. "Her worst enemy I know of is Necromantra, but she’s on our side."

"Leave that problem to me," Brandon said darkly.

"Who will I be negotiating with?" I asked Lone.

He shrugged. "The rebels didn't give out any names."

I wondered whether Nicolas Lone was reliable. It seemed illogical that the gang-busting ultra would choose to team up with a man who was being called a tyrant. Like, if he wouldn't follow his own father, why would he follow a hated king?

"Well," I said, rising, "I should get over to the Collab building. Tark grabbed my arm and shook his head. "You shouldn't show up there before 1900," he told me. "If you make yourself a sitting duck for too long, somebody might get the idea to take you out, truce or no truce."

“Do you want to take a bodyguard?" Lone asked me.

“How can they protect me if we're going to be deployed as sitting ducks?" I asked.

He shrugged.

I waited a little longer while Lone and Brandon conferred in private. When the time was nigh, they took me to a street door and I went outside. I at once ghosted myself, and also made the extra effort to shield my mind from the kind of psionic attacks that Neuronne had used to take me out. The rebels had a wide array of ultra abilities to choose from.

As a phantom, my footfalls made no sound crossing through ankle-deep volcanic ash. The ground outside the Collab headquarters building was wide open, except for the ever-present junk and detritus. I felt hidden eyes drilling into me as a prickle on my skin, but after a while, I heard footsteps.

Three persons advanced on me from behind a mound of rubble, like gunfighters slinking out of a livery stable.

I was surprised to see a short guy wearing ancient Greek-style battle attire. How did he end up in America when he was a European ultra. His main power was invulnerability and he went by the code name of Achilles. There was also a big blue guy who I’d never seen in Aladdin’s files. He looked like someone who’d be a powerhouse in a fight, but I wasn’t sure if he was a human being. Though curious, I thought it would be impolite to ask him about that.

The third negotiator was a woman and a real looker! I instantly knew her for Choice, an ultra who had done some good work in association with Hardcase. Aladdin’s analysis believed that her powers had been artificially created for her by the Choice Corporation, for whom she had worked as a public spokesperson. Supposedly, she could shoot force beams from her eyes, fly, project force shields, and was ultra strong. Oddly, though, she had to choose her power of the day, since not all of her abilities were at her beck and call simultaneously. That explained her code name, which was about the worst that I’d ever heard an ultra using. She had changed her costume over the last nine years but had held on to the white-and-pink idea.

"Hello, Choice," I said amiably. "Is Hardcase around here, too?" In my world, Hardcase had been a modern Hercules, one of the world's most admired ultras. I had had few contacts with the Hardcase of my own reality, but I had gotten to know one of his doubles on an alternate world.

The ultra woman looked at me crossly. "You really don't know?" she asked.

"I'm new to the neighborhood," I said lightly.

"Let's have your spiel," the slim brunette said. "And make it good, because we know damn well that the real Mantra has been dead for years."

"Didn't the chamberlain pass along the word that I'm the Mantra from a parallel universe? Both you and Hardcase have doubles there, too. They're be as sad as I am to see how devastated this world is. Where I come from, Yellowstone's never erupted."

"And so you're a tourist?" she asked skeptically, her arms crossed.

"No, I'm here to do an important job. I didn't know about the civil war until a few hours ago. I want to say that I don't want to choose sides."

"Since you're carrying messages for Warstrike, maybe you've chosen sides without even realizing it," she challenged.

"The message I'm carrying is my own. I think Tark is helping me because I look like his late wife. On principle, I'd like to see this civil war settled peacefully, but I'm not here to deal with that. What's important is that if my mission succeeds, very many lives are going to be saved in the Multiverse."

“Multiverse? Isn't that a concept that comes out of comic books?"

“Don't I wish! But I've discovered our universe exists in a neighborhood of universes, and it's a rough part of town!"

“The whole idea sounds silly, but I've had to deal with plenty of silly ideas since becoming an ultra. Tell me the rest of your story and then I'll decide what to do with you," said the woman in a white. I had to wonder how she managed to keep her clothes so clean in this wreck of a city.

“I hope we can make a deal to help me save lives.”

"Does helping you mean we're expected to make peace with tyranny?"

"No, that's too much to ask," I said, trying not to sound sarcastic. "But a daylong truce would be very helpful."

"None of us like the war, but those are the cards we’ve been dealt."

I was tempted to offer some common-sense advice on that score. But war hawks hated peace talks, and I didn't want to step into an argument at the worst possible time. Anyway, no matter what we decided to do, this war would only last a few more hours. Instead, I replied, "It sounds like a bad deal all around."

"Why are you here?" Choice asked sharply.

I laid out the story like I'd laid it out for Warstrike. Naturally, I didn't mention that her life expectancy was only a few hours long. I ended my pitch by saying, "If you see a woman who bursts into flame whenever she uses her power, that'll be Amber Hunt."

"I once saw Hunt over Las Angeles last year," Choice said. "Are you asking us to capture that world-destroying bitch for you? Why should we do that kind of heavy lifting?”

"I’m prepared to do the hard work. What I'm seeking is an agreement that whoever captures her, she belongs to me."

"Then what?"

"Then I want to return to my home universe and take her with me."

Without indicating whether she believed me, Choice answered, "I'll take your request to the committee."

"Don’t forget to mention that if my plan works, it will save more lives than you can imagine."

"Remind me why anyone living in this world should care what happens in another universe?" Choice asked.

"No reason," I said. "But the Choice I know back home would care. Hardcase would care, too.”

"Hardcase is dead!" she whispered as if the words hurt her lips.

I blinked with surprise. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

She was gazing into the distance, beyond the rubbish piles and wreckage that filled the next block. "He left L.A., looking for other Americans to help. Tom thought we had enough ultra-power to keep L.A. running without him."

"How did you learn that he died?" I asked.

"We didn't. But Hardcase would have returned years ago if he were still alive."

I didn't want to irritate her with cloying sentiment, so I just said, "Probably so.”

"If your mission succeeds, will it save your universe from disaster?" Choice asked.

"Definitely! That would be the big payoff for me," I admitted.

"But what's going to save this world?"

"I honestly don't know. But if you want suggestions, ending this war would be a good idea."

She looked at me as if I were naive. "We'll end it the only way it can be ended. But I can't help but wonder how much you aren't telling us. Like, is the success of your mission going to do any harm to us here?"

"Wherever Miss Hunt shows up, there'll always be danger," I said. "But if she listens to me, we’ll go back to our own universe immediately, leaving you people to work out the best solutions for your own problems.”

Choice grimaced. "All I can promise is I'll carry your message to our council."

"And emphasize that Hunt is expected to arrive at almost any minute now," I said.

She shrugged. “Sure, I’ll mention that. Anything else?”

“Nothing that I can think of," I replied.

With that, the ultra turned and walked away with her escort.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 12