Chapter 3: No Nukes is Good Nukes (Patreon)

As it turned out, the restaurant did not have ketchup, but they were happy to try and whip up an approximation.

Jeb once again took in how fabulously wealthy the eatery was, and observed just how comfortable Vresh was sitting there being waited on by men wearing literal gold trim. Old money, Jeb’s instincts told him, and the tiny gold digger voice in his head wondered if she was single.

Jeb nearly jumped when a fork clattered a little too hard against a plate.

He’d spent most of the night slowly recovering from temporal poison trying to shrink/dissipate his Impact. That meant anything from losing money, or stubbing his toe, all the way to the sky outright trying to murder him via meteor strike.

Jeb’s Impact shrinking manifested physically as a string of outrageously bad luck that lasted until a few hours ago, just when it was starting to get light again. Pulling the tooth out of his skull had slowed the poison enough for him to survive it, since it was no longer being dumped endlessly into the fifth dimension.

Somehow poking it with his finger had kicked it into gear and it hadn’t stopped poisoning him until he’d pulled it out. The devious nature of the poison made it difficult to cure. Half a dozen incidents almost stopped Jeb from removing the tooth, as if the thing was actively preventing him from helping himself.

Once the tooth was out, Jeb had to sit there and try not to die for a good twelve hours before the fifth dimensional ‘fever’ broke, and the universe stopped trying to kill him.

The experience left him a little jumpy.

The tooth he carried around on a necklace, because when he’d used the Appraiser on it:

Fang of Gresh (Unique)

The venomous fang of the Phantom Raptor Gresh, which attacks the body and the mind. When introduced into the bloodstream, the venom causes corrosion of the nervous system, leading to paralysis and death from cardiovascular failure. The poison’s effects drastically dull pain, short-term memory, caution, and decision making, making it incredibly hard to self-diagnose.

The fang has been treated with a special mixture that keeps the venom gland alive and producing, despite being long separated from its original host. Simply stab and squeeze!

No way was Jeb leaving that anywhere in a mansion full of curious orphans, no matter how good the safe was. Plus it could come in handy.

“So, the reason why I called you here,” Vresh said, patting her lips with a napkin before removing her bib and setting it aside, seemingly done with her meal. Jeb was just getting started on the burrito. “Would you care to guess?”

“Not really,” Jeb said with a shrug. He figured it might be more reapers at the worst. At best they could require his input for some kind of pagan fertility ritual. Anything in between was fair game, Jeb supposed.

what do you know about nuclear weapons?”

Jeb stopped chewing on his burrito, his skin turning cold. Internally, his worst-case scenario was being violently re-adjusted. Reapers were bad, but nukes were on a completely different level.

“They’re really, really bad?” Jeb said, wincing. “They kill entire cities, poison the land you use them on, and if you use enough of them they can send the world into an ice age by blocking out the sun with dust that takes centuries to settle.”

Vresh blinked. “I hadn’t heard about the ice age part.”

“You’ve got a nuke problem?” Jeb asked.

“The empire didn’t have a nuke problem until humans arrived. I should say if anyone has a nuke problem it would be humans.”

The melas woman leaned forward and laced her fingers together.

“How many nuclear bombs did your country have before the Stitching?”

“I don’t know the exact number of course, but thousands. Maybe tens of thousands. There were nuclear weapons at every major airport and air force base around the world.”

Her scowl deepened.

Jeb nibbled his pizza.

“Were you aware that there are anarchist groups of humans unearthing nuclear bombs and bypassing their safety features to allow manual detonation?”

“Aware? No. Not particularly surprised, either. Those things aren’t being guarded anymore, so I assume it’s open season.”

“You seem awfully cavalier about the idea of being swept up in a wave of fire and poison that could engulf the entire city.”

“I grew up with it. I’m going to guess that this job of yours has something to do with these anarchist groups?”

“How astute. Yes, you are going to infiltrate one of these rebel groups for me, and then you are going to remove their ability to cause problems.”

“What, by killing them?”

“If you wish. I’ve no care for their lives, your specific task is to disarm their bombs. Remove the nuclear devices from the equation entirely, and these humans will cease to be a threat to the world.”

Jeb’s brows rose.

“How am I supposed to do that, exactly? I know nothing about disarming bombs.”

“Simple. You convert it into something less dangerous.”  Vresh reached under the table and pulled out a suitcase. Opening it, Jeb saw a wand painted with a steel color that gradually faded into blue toward the tip, along with a half a dozen other gadgets.

“This is a transmutation wand, specially designed by the emperor’s craftsmen to change any metal into water. I’m told uranium is a metal?”

“So I just walk in, and turn their bombs into puddles with a bit of plastic tubing where the wires used to be?”

“In essence.”

Jeb studied the wand for a moment.

“So where’s the guy working on making a wand that turns water into nuclear bombs?” Jeb asked.

Vresh blinked.

“It would be highly unlikely that these anarchists would possess the materials, the knowledge, the skill, the tools, or the idea, were it even possible. Don’t give them the idea. If you see evidence of them working on a Myst-based doomsday weapon, report it to me.”

Jeb could think of a few people who might be capable of that kind of outside-the-box thinking. Plus anyone who worked at NASA. Eggheads were rarely revolutionaries, but these were strange times. It was best not to assume the malcontents were dumb.

“And where will you be during all of this?” Jeb asked.

“I’ll be your superior officer, your handler.” She pulled what looked like a pair of disembodied speakers out of the suitcase. “These are linked. Speak into one, it will come out the other. It has a range of a few miles, so I’ll always be nearby.”

She spoke directly into one, and her voice came out of the other, as if by magic. Actually it probably is magic.

“Starting to feel like James Bond.”

“Who?”

“He was a spy who…nevermind. What’s the pay?”

Vresh raised a brow.

“Last time the pay was your silence. What are you going to pay me to risk my life this time?” Jeb asked. “Let’s work out a Deal.”

It seemed like the empire was pretty desperate to get rid of nuclear weapons altogether, so he should be able to squeeze a fat paycheck out of doing the right thing. Jeb was all for nuclear disarmament, but ‘gettin’ paid’ was literally the source of his powers, so he had to haggle.

Vresh’s full lips quirked up in the hint of a smug smile.

“The Talons of Freedom-“

Jeb chuckled at the name.

“Are camped out in Nellis Airforce Base. They have bombers, bombs, and people who can use them. Solmnath is the largest city within their range. I’m told the only reason they didn’t destroy the city while the emperor was visiting was due to unfriendly weather conditions.”

“The Roil,” Jeb surmised. “That lucky…” Jeb shook his fist silently, careful not to speak a direct lie.

“Now, you’ve got two humans who are widely considered to be the most egregious traitors to the human race due to assume leadership positions in Solmnath in the next week. What do you think is going to happen?”

Jeb sighed and rubbed his temples. “They’re probably going to try and kill Brett and Amanda. You’re not gonna pay me because I would do it anyway to save my kids. Just telling me about it is enough.”

Jeb couldn’t allow his entire orphanage and all his friends to get vaporized because King and Queen Slut were moving into the city.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Vresh said with a smile. “After all, you came out far ahead in our last arrangement. Besides, I know you’ll do what’s right for the people as a whole, as is your duty…Citizen.”

Apparently when the emperor says ‘Citizens like you’ it becomes scripture.

At least Jeb got a vote. A lot of people didn’t have that.

Jeb tapped his fingers on the table, thinking through his plan. He had a week to get some face-to face time with some WMD’s and turn them into water.

“What if they recognize my face? I was on TV once.”

“Your face was covered in blood. Outside of the city, no one will recognize you. Just use a pseudonym.”

Jeb paused, neurons firing. He couldn’t give someone a fake name because if he lied, he’d suffer Impact whiplash. How then, should he phrase his false identity? As a command.

Call me Ted, or somesuch. It wasn’t a lie about his name, it was a command.

The thought of telling someone to say something specific brought back to mind his episode with the pirates a few months ago when he forced a believable untruth out of a young man at gunpoint then simply repeated it.

I wonder if I could pull off something similar with Vresh. Minus the gun, of course.

“Vresh, would you be willing to say some lines I could repeat? I would like a better cover story should they discover my identity.”

Vresh frowned. “Why? You can’t lie?” Vresh asked, crooking a brow.

Jeb suddenly felt like he was under a microscope.

“Of course I can lie.” Jeb scoffed, waving it off. “I was considering presenting you as an inside informant, a traitor to the emperor. I wanted our story to be straight.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth, either.

Hopefully she buys it.

Vresh didn’t buy it.

“Say the tablecloth at our table is blue.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why not? There’s no harm in it, is there?” Vresh asked, giving him a mischievous grin.

“You’re annoying me right now.” That was partly true. The playful side of Vresh was also highly intriguing, and Jeb wanted to see more of it.

“Because you can’t lie? No, you already said you can…You won’t lie, because you took a Vow.” She grinned victoriously.

“A what?”

Vresh leaned closer and whispered.

“A strict code of conduct that acts as a force multiplier to Impact? It would help explain why you’re still alive.”

“That sounds like the sort of thing you shouldn’t be talking about in a diner.” Jeb whispered back, leaning forward until their faces were only a few inches apart.

“It’s a restaurant, you rube.”

“diesel-breath.”

“Footloose.”

“Clumsy.”

Vresh scowled at that one.

“You’ve got five days to stop terrorists from bombing Solmnath.” The former enforcer said with ominous finality.

“About those things you could say for me…”

“I was interested, until you called me clumsy,” She said, lifting her chin.

“Your refill, Ms. Tekalis.” The maître d said as he approached, offering her a flaming shotglass of what Jeb was sure was pure diesel beside a larger bottle.

“Oh, thank you!” Vresh said, reaching for the glass and bumping it with her finger, knocking it over instead.

The maître d dropped the platter in shock, which splattered the bottle of diesel all over the table, and both occupants. Then it lit on fire.

“Phooey!”

Jeb, having survived Fate-poison all night, had a shield of hardened air up before she even reached for the glass, so he was fine. The liquid fire rolled off the air in front of him and pooled on the burning table, sending a cloud of smoke into the rafters of the fine establishment.

Vresh, on the other hand, looked more upset about her ruined clothes than the diesel using her hair as a natural wick. She patted the flames out on her arms and chest, muttering self-censored profanities. Somehow her hair didn’t actually burn, neither did the skin showing through the burnt gaps in the fine silk…

Ahem.

“With that well-timed gaffe, I think I’ll go get to work,” Jeb said, standing up as Vresh tucked her bib back into the collar of her shirt and spread it out over the gaps.

Jeb picked up the suitcase and gave the melas woman a haphazard salute as he walked out the door.

***Jeb***

To do list:

1. Prep for storming a military base.
2. Storm a military base.
3. profit.

God, it seems so easy when I lay it out in list form, Jeb thought sardonically, tapping his pen on the corner of the page.

Then Jeb broke item one into its individual parts.

First task: prepare for the worst case scenario. He instructed Mr. Everett and Mrs. Lang to take the kids out on a couple school buses on a road trip the day before Amanda and Brett were due to take the reins of Solmnath.

No questions asked.

The grey-haired teachers were smart enough to do what they were asked, especially after they saw the look in his eyes. They weren’t his slaves anymore, but they were cautious, responsible people, and for some reason they respected him.

Once Jeb’s worst-case scenario was taken care of, he started working on the prepping.

Transportation, lots of personal defense, and a wild-card.

“Do you think I should buy some keegan corpses from their families and lash them to the front of the jeep like a reaver?” Jeb asked, squatting in front of the grill and affixing a Myst Trigger for a spray of telekinetic bullets. It would trigger to ‘The Heisenberg maneuver’.

Jeb’s claim to fame was the ability to make ‘mystic traps’ which were basically pre-packaged spells that would go off the moment a pre-defined action happened within range. The more time he had to prepare, the harder he was to kill.

“Where did you say you were going again?” Zlesk asked, eyes wide.

“I didn’t say, but let’s just say the locals don’t like aliens. I think maybe covering the jeep in their dead bodies would let me get close enough to see the whites of their eyes.”

Jeb knew these guys would have some big guns on hand if they took over a military base, and there was every chance they might just shoot first and ask questions later.

They were probably on high alert, and they had high powered scopes. There was no way Jeb could reach them without them seeing him first…

Well, unless I covered myself in a bubble and went into the stratosphere with bottled oxygen and dropped down on them from above.

Jeb wasn’t nearly confident enough in his Myst to go for spaceflight just yet, but it did give him ideas…

There’s no way they have satellites watching the base.

“I think it would come across as a try-hard,” Ron said, bringing Jeb’s attention back to the matter at hand. “I mean, I could probably make them into a secondary fighting force that could deploy in an emergency, but you’d still look like a try hard. People don’t put that much effort into decoration unless they’re trying to make a statement. Lashing bodies to a car is a lot of work.”

“Hmmm…true. Just a severed head on the hood then?” Jeb asked.

“That’s about the right level of effort.” Ron nodded.

“Humans are disgusting,” Zlesk said, shaking his head.

“Hold on, I wanna try something,” Jeb said, winding a complex series of if-then statements into his Mystic trigger then placing it behind the steering wheel.

Jeb backed off about fifty feet, then cleared his throat.

“Jeep, pick me up.”

The jeep roared to life as telekinetic force turned the key and a series of functions turned the steering wheel until the wheels were aligned with Jeb.

Then the gear shifted and a telekinetic force pressed on the gas.

The jeep lunged forward, crossing the fifty feet in a matter of seconds, prompting Jeb to dive out of the way. The functions on the steering wheel worked a little too good, and they shifted to compensate as a new set of triggers popped.

Looping functions in Jeb’s Mystic triggers were able to allow them to have rudimentary reactions to stimulus once they’d already been triggered. They were mentioned at the end of the book he’d pulled out of his head a few months ago. With the knowledge that they existed and some basic descriptions of them, he was able to get started learning them, but the progress was a little slow without actual learning materials.

As demonstrated by the jeep chasing him across the orphanage’s lawn.

Once the looped spells ran out of Myst and the vehicle stopped trying to run him over, Jeb refined the trigger, tested it one more time and then set the finished version in place behind the steering wheel, along with a couple others.

Since he was driving up to a military base, Jeb put some triggers on the car specifically designed to steer him away from land mines, and to protect him if he did manage to drive over one.

A land-mine was an observable phenomenon.

He warded the jeep against small arms fire and set several dozen shields to all pop at the same time if they tried to hit him with heavy weapons.

Once Jeb had prepared as much as he could think of, he pinned the list of commands to the driver’s side visor, accompanied with check marks to remind him they were filled.

‘Ben Hur’ ☑

‘Pick me up’ ☑

‘Heisenburg maneuver’ ☑

‘Heavy ordinance’ X 50 ☑

‘Explosion dampening’ X 20 ☑

‘Sleepyhead’ ☑

‘That’s my car’ ☑

‘Nitro’ ☑

‘Viking Funeral’ ☑

‘Jesus take the wheel’ ☑

Jeb’s Nerve was high enough to remember the whole list easily, but Jeb couldn’t account for concussive brain damage or strange Abilities that might make him forget.

Once Jeb had his jeep riddled with triggers, he moved on to his personal defense, putting triggers on anything and everything he could think of, from his flame arrow glove, to his booby-trapped prosthetic and everything in between.

Finger-gun clips: ‘ack’ x10 ☑ ‘pip’ x10 ☑ ‘kip’ x10 ☑ ‘Alpha Strike’ ☠

Full auto: ‘Demogorgon’ ☑ Unladen Swallow’ ☑ ‘little friend’(foot) ☑

Shield: x4 ☑

Looped Armor: head ☑ torso ☑ legs ☑ upper arms ☑ lower arms ☑

FMO shield x50 ☑

Safety Phrases: restraints ‘3W’ ☑ ‘Scarabs’ ☑ ‘Plitskin’ ☑ ‘No homo’ ☑ ‘Room full of Charlies’ ☠

Grenades ‘go boom’: ‘’ ☑ ‘glove’ ☑ ‘knife’ ☑ ‘foot’ ☑

Saw ‘go fast’:  ‘Yellow’ ☑ ‘red’ ☑ ‘green’ ☑ ‘blue’ ☑

Things ‘love daddy’: ‘Glove’ ☑ ‘foot’ ☑ ‘cane’ ☑ ‘pants’ ☑ ‘shirt’ ☑ ‘knife’ ☑ ‘ring’ ☑ ‘wand’ ☑

‘too tight’: Collar ☑ wrists ☑ fingers ☑ arms ☑ chest ☑ head ☑ legs ☑ ankle ☑ feet ☑

Bandage traps : ☑

Jeb studied the list. He was sure there was something he’d missed, but he was on a time crunch. He didn’t have all week to plan and brainstorm. He folded the list and stuffed it in his breast pocket.

Okay, that’s personal defense along with transportation, now I just need my wildcard.

“How’s your nerve-gas hangover?” Jeb asked Eddie. The frazzled looking old man rested against the wall, the ugly gremlin standing on his shoulder and nibbling on some plastic.

“Feels like I got hit with nerve gas.” Eddie groaned, head in his hands.

“What have we learned?” Jeb asked like a parent who found his kid covered in jam and dirt.

“Nerve gas works really good?” Eddie asked, glancing up at him.

Jeb rolled his eyes and got to the point. “I need to borrow Legolas for a week, how long can he operate without a charge?” Legolas was Eddie’s second robot after Buddy, and the drone was literally designed to be air support.

“Oh, forever.” Eddie waved off the question. “I made a Prism array that transforms ambient myst into electricity and replaced his battery with it like, two weeks ago.”

“You can do that?” Jeb asked.

“Oh yeah, you just gotta figure out how to utilize the electrical slice of the spectrum of Myst that comes out the other side of a Prism then recapture the rest of it before it lights the surroundings on fire or transmutes them into a fish. What have you.”

“So the ray that come out of prisms are organized.” Jeb said, considering it.

“The bandwidths are determined by the blend of Myst that comes through, but yeah, they’re always organized the same.”

Prisms were the second most important part of any Myst Engine. They converted any Myst that touched them from neutral to active ray form.

The most important piece was a dungeon core, which aggressively drew in Myst, and the third was a semi-permeable glass that blocked mist, but allowed rays through.

Eddie had taken the dungeon core out of the equation, which resulted in a substantial reduction in total ray output, but there was still a trickle as ambient myst came into contact with the prism at a more sedate pace.

From what Eddie had told him, he’d figured out a way to standardize the output, enough to run a robot off of, anyway.

Quietly and without fanfare, someone invented the perpetual motion machine, and nobody noticed because of all the monsters and magic.

“I’d like to stay here and talk magitech, but I got some Pro Bono work to do. It could take a week or more.” Jeb said, walking past Eddie and tapping Legolas on the top to wake him up.

“You are a pro bono.” Ron said from where he was using his Class Ability to stitch the borg back together, casting Jeb an accusatory glance.

“Ron, that thing turned on me the moment you were in a bit of trouble.”

“Honest mistake.”

“It could’ve killed me!” Jeb cried as Legolas woke up, rising into the air.

“It’ll do better next time.”

“Do you mean it’ll behave better or it’ll fight better next time?” Jeb asked, suspicious. He stared into the young necromancer’s eyes, until his gaze slid away from Jeb’s.

“Both?” Ron said with a shrug.

“Goddamnit, Ron. If that thing hurts a kid, the social contract demands I beat you.”

“Fair enough.” Ron got back to work reattaching the severed limb.

“Legolas,” Jeb said, turning to the drone hovering beside him. “How would you like to keep me company on a road-trip and probably shoot down a bomber plane?”

The drone’s light blinked green, and it wiggled assent.

“What was that last part?” Eddie asked, raising his head out of his hands.

“Pro Bono work.” Jeb said, grabbing the death deer staff off the shelf and heading back outside. Legolas followed close behind, settling into the back of the jeep at Jeb’s instruction.

Jeb secured his revolver. The gun was a bit of a red herring, seeing as he was more dangerous than the weapon, but Jeb found wearing a gun out in the wasteland was good for making people think twice.

“Is that everything?” Jeb asked as he hopped in the front and leaned over the driver seat, checking the back. He felt like a dad prepping for beach day, especially with Smartass tanning on the dashboard.

Food, fuel, check check. Legolas, check, death deer staff, check, Smartass, check, cool sunglasses for the desert, check. Glove, check, leg, check, extra pair of clothes, check.

A thought occurred to Jeb, and he pointed at Legolas. “You are armed with the annihilation gun,  and the Myst to use it, right?” Jeb imagined arriving and his trump card was unarmed. That would be pretty embarrassing.

Legolas’s light blinked green.

“Alright, let’s go.”

***Colt, level 27 Slinger***

Colt sprawled out on the ground with a sigh. They’d almost lost Toby on the first day they’d been trusted to go out on their own. That had been a wake-up call for all of them. The very first Core they’d gathered had been stolen!

Suddenly all of Jeb’s lecturing about boring shit like making sure you keep your formation tight and setting up watches while you sleep…it all clicked into place.

The world was out to get them. From the moment they stepped out into it.

There hadn’t been any more incidents since then.  A few people came sniffing around, but they showed them raised spears and unfeeling metal and they got the hint real quick. A woman offered to help, and they gave her the same treatment.

It didn’t make Colt feel great, but now there was no chance of the woman stealing all their cores and running.

Five! They had five of them already over a day and a half. Everyone wanted to stay out longer and see if they could find more, but their food would run out after lunch…

I guess I gotta take the kids back at noon. Colt wasn’t sure if it was by design, or because Jeb expected him to forage for his own food. The old man had told him to ‘use his best judgement’.

Hmm…If we could nail a wild animal or a handful of rabbits we could have enough to last another day.

Another day would translate to another five cores, which translated to twenty-five bulbs. It was so much money! You could literally buy someone with that kind of cash.

Colt was considering whether or not hunting would be feasible with dozens of other parties swarming over the mountain, scaring everything off, when he spotted movement in the corner of his eye.

Without moving, he glanced over at the pile of gear, where a little fairy was picking up one of the Cores in it’s glass vial and throwing it over its shoulder like a massive log.

Colt pointed a finger at the fairy and slimed it. He’d been following Jeb’s advice and working on making the slime come out with different properties. This one was extra sticky.

“Ack!” the fairy cried, slipping off its feet and tumbling down the pile of gear. It tried to buzz its wings, but the goop covering it was too thick, preventing it from escaping.

“Can I help you with something, squirt?” Colt asked, poking the fairy with his finger.

“Yes,” The fairy said, uncovering it’s face with it’s fingers so it could breath. “You and your friends can pay me the rent money I am due for camping on my mountain. A couple cores oughta do it.”

“Your mountain?” Colt asked with a frown. “By whose authority?”

“Ummm….” The fairies' gaze slid away from his.

“So you thought getting me to accept that you owned this mountain would make it so, and then I’d have to pay you?”

“That’s not…the only thing I was thinking.” The fairy said with a shrug.

“Well, let me just be clear. No, this isn’t your mountain, and no, you can’t have any cores.”

“Aw, come on, dude,” the fairy griped, using its tiny hands to squeegee slime off its wings. “I got larvae to feed.”

“You feed them cores?” Colt asked, raising a brow.

“Naw, they make good trade on the streets. One of them things can buy a whole chicken sandwich.”

The fairy wiggled its eyebrows. “A human sized chicken sandwich.”

“I think you’ve been lied to,” Colt replied, shaking his head.

“Huh?”

“These are worth five bulbs.”

“Huh?”

“Five gold coins as big as your chest.

The fairy cocked its head, confusion written across its features. “….Huh?”

Colt sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Several thousand chicken sandwiches.”

“By the gods!” The fairy broke into a sprint for the Core, and Colt had to slime it again.

“Come on man, you’ve got tens of thousands of chicken sandwiches worth of cores here! Share the love!” the fairy cried as it restarted the process of freeing it’s wings from goop.

“Nnnope.”

The fairy pouted for a minute before its expression shifted to excitement. “I know, I know!” it said, bouncing up and down in excitement.

“You know what?” Colt asked, frowning.

“I know where a place is with treasure that makes these cores look cheap by comparison! It’s really close by!”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, all sorts of stuff, basically the treasure of a lifetime, and at the very bottom, a dungeon core that makes these ones look pathetic. How about we make a Deal? I can guide you to it, and you gimme one of your cores? You’re not gonna need them after going there.”

Something in Colt’s gut didn’t like that offer, but his greed shoved any niggling doubts aside. Fairies didn’t lie. That meant there was a treasure that made the cores look like chump change, and it was close by.

“What’s your name, little guy?”

“It’s Ari, and I’m not a guy.” Ari said, crossing her arms and scowling.