The Angel of Earth

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part Eleven

That tactic seemed to work. The thing stopped, then the part sticking above the tall grass scanned back and forth a bit, as if looking for her. Through the weeds Melody saw that the automaton was segmented, and could fold like a carpenter's rule. The thing unfolded the part with its, well, head further, sending the main sensor array higher. Melody knew that some of these devices responded to motion, and held still.

Indeed, for a moment it seemed to have lost her and she knew hope. The "head" scanned back and forth again, the machine clicking and whirring. Then, suddenly, its gaze turned sharply towards Melody and the machine fixed its camera eyes on her. She gave a small cry of fear as it raised an arm with a machine gun built in and pointed it at her.

Something was suddenly between her and the mechanical guard. There was a deafening burst of gunfire and the sound of slugs slamming into the object. It started to fall towards Melody. She rolled aside, as what looked like one of Malak's shields fell towards where she had been laying. It vanished before hitting the ground. The mechanical guard found her again, and swung the gun around.

Malak made a quick landing between the machine and Melody, and manifested another shield, his wings together behind him. Again, the attacker fired its machinegun. This time, though, Malak was supporting the shield and it did not fall after being hit. Melody scrambled to her feet and the two of them backed quickly away. With the advantage of the higher viewpoint she now had, she could get a better look at the device. Moving on treads, it rotated its entire body and started towards them. It stowed the machine gun arm, and one with a much larger weapon was deployed.

"Wow," said Malak, as he and the reporter continued backing quickly away, in a serpentine path. "That looks like a twenty millimeter autocannon. STAND DOWN."

The construct continued towards them.

"I don't think that's going to work," said Melody. She had felt a surge of relief when Malak arrived, but now was starting to worry again.

"I guess it must completely automated, then, with no-one on board or piloting remotely. Very irresponsible."

The 20mm cannon pointed directly at them. Again, Malak protected them with his shield. This time he also prepared one of his spears.

"That is so loud!" screamed Melody, hands over ears, as the shells hit the shield and exploded.

The shield held. Once the shooting stopped, Malak threw his spear. He aimed for the bulk of the guardian, which was between the treads. There was a sizable explosion. However...

"No secondary explosions," said Malak, almost casually, "and it's still moving."

This time he manifested three spears with flaming tips. They went high, middle and low on the machine. There were definitely follow-up explosions after this treatment. When the subsequent fireworks finally stopped, there was no doubt of success. The machine was in inert pieces, with smoke still rising from some of them as well as some places in the grass around it.

"Now I need to get you out of here," said Malak. The shield vanished. He turned towards Melody and reached out to lift her into his arm.

"Just make us both invisible!" said the reporter, quickly, as she moved to him. "I want to see what they do about this. You probably need to see that, too."

He thought about this for a while. Which for him meant much less than a second. Finally, he nodded. He moved beside Melody and wrapped them both in his wings.

"We are invisible but not desolid. Neither are we inaudible, so don't move and keep quiet."

They waited a surprisingly long time, but finally several men in Protectorate security uniforms arrived, hurrying out the gate on foot. They were heavily armed. They looked at the machine. Looked around at the mayhem associated with it. Then looked back at the machine.

"Another false alarm?" said one, hopefully.

"No bodies. It would take a tank or a cookoff to do that much damage. We would have seen a tank, even if it shot from long range. So, which do you think it was?"

"Damn grass," said one of the other men, kicking at and stomping on the growth to get it clear of the machine for a better evaluation of the damage. "Why don't they cut it?"

"Because then these things would go after every rabbit and squirrel," said the leader of the group. He scowled at the close-cut area nearby. "Which may be what happened this time, anyway."

"Looks like it'll have to be towed. Or broken down and carried back in pieces. Good thing it's near the driveway."

"It's already halfway disassembled," said another man, almost cheerfully. "Fortunately, they're modular and tend to come apart at the joins."

"Well, if the team weren't all out of the country on a mission, we could get one of them to move it to the shop," said the second man.

"If wishes were horses we'd all ride," said the leader, tartly. He pulled out his radio. "Yeah, looks like a false alarm, some needless shooting, probably at grass moving in the wind or a ground squirrel, followed by a cookoff. Send the truck out, will ya?"

Malak and Melody stood there, silently observing, until the parts of the mechanical guard were loaded onto a tilt-bed truck - using the built-in winch on the latter - and taken away. The human guards road the truck back with its crew. One of the last things the guards mentioned while within hearing range was that other mechanical guardians would have to be assigned to cover this one's part of the perimeter. The gate closed behind them.

"Well, looks like The Protectorate aren't here, anyway," said Malak, actually looking a bit relieved. He grinned at the reporter. "Though I do wonder what could require the entire team. Drop you off somewhere?"

"Back at my rental car, please," said Melody, tiredly. "Their security is more thorough, more aggressive and more lethal than anybody thought. There's no way I'm sneaking in. We both probably need to seriously rethink our approach."

"At last, you are learning wisdom," said Malak with a laugh, as - with both of them still invisible - he scooped Melody into his arms and took to the air.

* * *

The car was parked on a wide spot on the shoulder on a county road, well hidden by trees from the compound of The Protectorate. Malak put Melody down, and stepped back.

"Hold on a moment, please," said the reporter, as she saw he was about to leave. She made sure she still had her keys, then looked up at her rescuer.

"First: Thank you. I knew trying to get inside the fence might be dangerous but that machine was a complete surprise. Besides being blatantly illegal."

"Definitely," said Malak, nodding. "Its armaments are one more crime to add to their total. Besides that device using tech which is probably illegal in this country."

"That brings up something else they haven't been upfront about," said Melody, frowning. "Where are they getting the money for all this?"

"Donations from people they do favors for, plus using their powers for personal and team gain. I know some of them have had great success in the stock market."

"Wait... You knew this?"

"I did a lot of research on the group over recent weeks. Though I admit that much of it involved asking other people what they had discovered."

"Yeah, I got a lot of inside info from similar sources," said Melody, nodding thoughtfully. "A lot of it from other people investigating the group."

"Does Blackpool know what you're doing?" said Malak, his tone a bit accusing.

"Yes, but like me he thought staying outside the fence would be safe."

"Part of what I uncovered is that due to various pressures on the group, the have recently expanded their security measures."

"Oh. Well, that explains it. I guess..."

She gave vent to a gusty sigh.

"At any rate, thank you, again. I'm very glad you noticed the trouble I was in. You have my assurances I won't try this again."

"Good."

"I'm just glad this is really you, and not one of those fake angels." She gave him a quizzical look. "That is you, right?"

"Yes."

"So what's up with those duplicates?"

"Mannequin calls them my stunt doubles," said Aaron, with a grimace which conveyed both amusement and annoyance. "It's what most people familiar with powers call the Manifold Ability. It's not what Multi does, though. It's not that complete."

"That's new. For you, I mean."

"It was needed."

"Whoof," said Melody, suddenly sagging and partially sitting on the left front fender of her rental car, as reaction set in. She gave Malak a sick grin. "I wonder if going back in there would count as suicide."

"My contacts in the Catholic Church say that in such situations it's the intent which determines that."

"Hold on. I thought you were excommunicated decades ago," said Melody.

"For multiple reasons, none of which had anything to do with my faith or beliefs," said Aaron. "However, several Popes later my wife and I were reinstated. She even received Last Rites. Quietly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some negotiations to get back to."

He turned away and took off, flying along the road below the treetops until he was around the curve.

* * *

"So that's what they were doing..." said Melody, the next day, when she read about the latest misadventure of The Protectorate.

"What's that?" said Sam, looking up from the book he was reading.

They were in the break room, where Melody had found a wire service printout someone had left on one of the tables. She had meant to just skim it while having a snack, but the story about The Protectorate had caught her attention.

"Seems they took the whole Protectorate into eastern Iraq to 'capture' Ningirsu."

"Is he that guy with the ancient Sumerian obsession?" said Sam.

"Yeah. Though it's more of an affectation, as far as I can tell. He realizes he's a modern person living in modern times, just empowered."

"'Just' she says," said Sam, with a grin. "Anyway, what happened between him and The Protectorate?"

"Well, one of the groups they split into to look for him actually found Ningirsu. They attacked before the others could get there, and he fought back. Very successfully. They had to withdraw, taking their wounded with them."

"Not bad," said Sam, nodding. "Of course, from what I remember he did take his name from a warrior god who combated demons and maintained the cosmic order. He's apparently pretty potent."

"Yeah, but while he was withdrawing, another Protectorate team found him. From what people are able to determine, he got hurt this time, but still drove them off. He's gone to ground somewhere, and they can't find him."

"I don't imagine King Reza was pleased about that," said Sam, his expression carefully neutral. "He isn't particularly fond of Ningirsu, but considers him a local problem. He wouldn't like outsiders coming into his country to attack someone."

"That's pretty much how the situation stands," said Melody. "The Protectorate says they were trying to bring an international terrorist to justice. Ningirsu says they were trying to assassinate him. INTERPOL says the only warrants they are aware of out for Ningirsu are for 'agitation' rather than acts of destruction, but they're from several countries.

"Anyway, three members of The Protectorate are dead and several others were injured. The Grand Protector has sworn vengeance, not even pretending any more that their goal is to capture their target for law enforcement. The Iraqi government has announced that The Protectorate were in the country illegally and are not to come back except to turn themselves in for trial."

"Like that'll happen," said Sam, wryly.

"I just hope this won't mean The Protectorate will up the ante by increasing their activities in other areas to try and cover over this failure."

* * *

The head of the project nodded as he received the report that all was ready. He stood dramatically on the railed platform, deliberately creating a photo opportunity for the few members of the press allowed at the ceremony. The act of the minion bringing the report to him was an event staged for the media. He knew the dam was ready. Despite interference from multiple other nations, he was about to order the bypass spillways closed, shutting off all but a trickle of the mighty river for however long was needed for the new lake to fill. He was a political appointee, given this position of authority partly as a reward, and partly to make sure the job was done and done right. Now he stood on the observation deck of the great dam, using binoculars to look left and right at how the river currently flowed through the two diversion tunnels, one on either side of the massive structure. Those flows would now stop, and the huge reservoir behind the dam would finish filling. Only the amount - which would be small at first - allowed through the electrical generating turbines would flow until the level reached the overflow spillway. The time had come perform his final act on this job.

Those downstream had protested, and bargained, and threatened, and appealed to international agencies. All for naught. Once the dam was full his thirsty nation would have all the water it needed. For electrical generation, for irrigation, even for extortion. If those downstream didn't like that, well, they should have built their own dams. All that tree-hugger whining about how stopping the water would ruin the fishing or whatever was not going to stand in the way of progress! The water belonged to them, now, and if those down river wanted some they could pay for it. He turned and called into the control room, his voice loud and firm.

"Close the bypasses!"

The order was acknowledged, and the switches thrown. Lights blinked, alarms sounded, and the water continued to flow through the bypass tunnels.

"I said 'Close the bypasses!'"

"We did!" said the chief technician. "I mean, we tried, but they aren't closing!"

The project head quickly moved inside, to the control panels. Except that he had no idea what all those lights and dials meant! He was a manager, not a technician! However, he did know how to give orders.

"Find the problem and correct it! We have a schedule to keep!"

Men were already working to do just that, but nothing they saw brought enlightenment, nothing they did made a difference.

"The gates are jammed," said the manager's second in command, an engineer who actually understood most of the details of what they were doing, here. "The motors draw current and try to turn, but they don't budge. We're trying to find out why. I could understand if one was stuck, but how did both... Unless there's some design flaw we missed."

"We missed nothing!" said the boss. "The problem is not in the design. It is perfect. Find what is wrong and correct it!"

Someone came to the assistant and diffidently said something in a low voice. The assistant angrily told him he was crazy. However, as the Manager watched, more and more people quietly reported the same thing.

"What is it?" said the Manager. "What is going on?! We're behind schedule! The President will be making his announcement to the press in moments!"

"They say..." The assistant swallowed, nervously. "They say that an angel was seen flying into each tunnel. That he would be out of sight for a while, then fly back out."

"Superstitious idiots! You will find the actual problem and correct it!"

They did actually find the problem... long after the Manager and those immediately under him were replaced for embarrassing the President, and then the replacements were replaced, and finally cofferdams were built to divert the water so the huge gates could be inspected. They turned out to be very thoroughly welded in the open position. By that time political pressure was mounting against the dam being filled. Though the military alliance of nations downstream probably had more to do with the subsequent changes in policy. Either way, the bypass gates were left as they were and the dam never exceeded twelve percent capacity.