Pathspace: The Space of Paths (51 page)

At the sound of an engine Xander
looked up from the surface of his ice cube. “You might still have a
chance,” he said, grinning. “I'd be willing to bet he's in that
other tank, with the Runt safely tucked back with the others lying
in ambush for the Governor.”

Lester turned to follow Xander's gaze
and saw the other tank turning toward them, two blocks down the
street. “Do you have any more surprises like this one?”

“
'Fraid not. I had plans for more, given time, but he got his
fuel sooner than I had counted on. Looks like we'll have to
improvise. Did you tell her not to chase him?”

“
I delivered the message. You think Brutus will follow through
on the original plan, now that his CO is dead?”

Instead of answering immediately,
Xander lunged into him, knocking the two of them to the ground.
Behind them an explosion took a chunk out of the side of a
building. “Looks that way. We should split up, and be separate
targets instead offering him a two-fer.”

The two of them lunged to
their feet and diverged, zig-zagging down the street toward the
tank.
And exactly what are we going to do,
when we get to it?
Lester
wondered.

Xander scooped up his staff. Lester
could see that the Honcho's tank must have run over it at some
point. The wood had shattered, and the iron pipe inside it was
crushed nearly flat. As the tank's gun swiveled around, Lester dove
toward him and rolled to his feet. “What are you going to do with
that?”

“
Well, not fly, that's for sure,” Xander said “Too narrowed
for that now. But I have another idea.” He felt about in his
pockets as they dodged another round. “Do you have any
money?”

Lester just stared at him.
“You
do
remember
that I'm an unpaid apprentice, right?”

“
Never mind.. I found some.” Xander pushed him down again as
another shell blasted into some building beside them. He had just
enough time to turn his head to avoid having glass and rock
fragments pepper his face. As it was, the debris pummeled them like
rocky rain as they lay there sprawled.

Xander didn't bother to pick grit out
of his hair, but rolled over and began snatching the coins he had
dropped.

The tank was closer now. “You can't
stay here! Keep moving!” shouted Lester.

“
That's my line,” grumbled Xander, but he rolled to his left
and pointed his staff at the approaching tank. Flow began, this
time with a more whistling sound than its usual hum, and he began
to slide across the street toward the killing machine.

Not what I meant! What's
he doing?
But it was too late to stop him
now. He dashed across the street and began approaching the tank
from the other side. The tank seemed to ignore him as unimportant.
It fired one more round at Xander that left Lester's ear's
ringing.

At the last second, Xander managed an
extra burst of thrust from the remains of his staff, and hopped
onto the right side of the tank.

Since it was coming down the street,
Lester managed to reach its left side only moments later. Trying
not to think about what he was doing, he leaped up and managed to
grab a handrail to swing his legs up above the wheels and
tread.

As he climbed the rest of the way onto
the turret, he met Xander coming from the other side. “Hang on to
something” the older man cried, “because they'll be trying to shake
us off any second.” He wedged the flattened pipe between his knees
as he followed his own advice. Lester gripped the handrail with
both hands, the metal cold as ice, and the tank began to fishtail,
swerving one way, then the other as the driver inside attempted to
rid his metal beast of the two human fleas on its back.

Right about now they
should be losing patience with this,
thought Lester.
I wonder what their
next move is?
As he had that thought, the
tank stopped veering, settling in a path slanting across the road.
He heard the sound of metal sliding and the hatch on the right side
of the turret swung up. An angry face rose into view. It was
Brutus!

Brutus raised a crossbow and aimed it
at Xander, who was fiddling with something in his hand. Lester let
go of the handrail with one hand but realized he was too far away
to knock the aim aside.

“
Goodbye, wizard,” said Brutus.

Xander tossed something into the open
hatch and ducked under the aim of the crossbow as he grabbed his
metal pipe and swung the end of it into the larger man. Brutus
oomphed a grunt as the pipe struck him, but with both hands on the
crossbow he could not prevent himself from toppling back into the
interior of the tank. Xander let go of the pipe with one hand and
reached forward to slam the hatch shut on him. “Time to go!” he
yelled, and jumped off the right side of the vehicle. Without
thinking Lester followed suit, landing in the snow of the road and
rolling.

The tank, for some reason, did not
turn at the last moment to straight out its course, as if the
occupants were otherwise engaged. Lester scrambled to his feet and
watched the tank crash into the front of a building. It pushed
partly through the wall and slowed, treads grinding on debris. Then
the treads stopped.

“
What did you throw in there?”

Xander grinned. “Five dollars worth of
death, in the form of white-hot everflames.” He barked a laugh.
“Clothing and wire insulation both tend to be pretty
flammable.”

The hatches popped open again. This
time, smoke billowed out of it, followed by an angry Brutus. There
were scorch marks on his uniform.

The tank was still not moving. “Oh
dear,” said Xander. “Did I get lucky and break your toy? Well, I'm
not sorry.”

There was murder in the
Texan's eyes. “Nuthin that can't be fixed,” he sneered. “What I'm
going to do to
you
, however. . . .”

Lester could see Xander draw himself
up, but he stepped forward and thrust the old wizard behind him. “I
believe I have this dance,” he said. His eyes were hard as
steel.

Brutus laughed. “Grandpa
can't take me, but you think
you
can?”

Lester stared back at him. “We have
unfinished business.”

“
That so? Well I reckon we can finish it real
quick.”

Lester looked him up and down. “I
believe you're right about that.”

He felt Xander's hand on his shoulder.
“Les, you don't have to do this. War isn't personal.”

Lester shook the hand off.
“Sorry but
this
is
.” He looked at Brutus. “In a
minute or two there'll be men will be boiling out of the Governor's
headquarters with enough crossbows to make you a human pincushion.
They're good men so they'll probably let you surrender.” He paused.
“But you killed my father. For that, and for what you did to my
mother, you don't get to surrender.”

Brutus made as if to laugh, but lunged
at him instead, seeking to catch him off guard.

Lester was ready for that. He ducked
to one side, stuck out a foot and added a push to the middle of the
bigger man's back to help him on his way to landing on his belly
sliding toward the center of the street.

As Brutus growled climbing to his feet
on the slippery surface, the snow on the road began to move toward
him from all directions. He blinked at it, in surprise, but the
expression on his face shifted when he felt something begin to lift
him off his feet.

A smoke ring of snow hovered for a
moment parallel to the road, then as the force of the incoming wind
grew to a roar, the ring,with Brutus in the center of it, began
rising into the night air. Lester let it get almost as high as the
top of the Governors 'scraper before he relaxed the pathspace weave
and let it dissipate.

A cold part of him, colder than the
snow, enjoyed the terrified scream that wailed from Brutus as the
man plummeted several hundred feet into the now-uncovered street.
If he winced at the sickening impact, it didn't show.

He stared at the body, where something
wet was spreading, making the road even darker. Eventually he was
aware of Xander coming up to stand beside him. “Thanks.”

“
For what?”

“
For not interfering.”

Xander shook his head. His
eyes were still on the body. “I'm glad you're on
our
side.”

“
I remembered what you said,” Lester told him. “You can make a
swizzle out of anything, anywhere. The metal pipe just helps anchor
the pattern, to make it last longer.” He thought for a moment. “I
suppose with a little sideways push I could have dropped him on the
neat bullseye your melted snow made around the Honcho's tomb.” He
brushed fresh snow out of his hair. “But anyway, it's
over.”

“
No it isn't,” said Xander. “We still have to find the rest of
those tanks.”

This time she had no patience for
inching along ventilation ducts. Aria strode up to the men guarding
the door.

They eyed her uncertainly. “Er, it's
supposed to be a closed meeting, ma'am,” one of them said,
fidgeting.

“
I don't give a flying
fork
what it's supposed to be. Let me in or there will
be trouble!”

The other man coughed. “Um, actually,
the word is supposed to be – “

“
The point is, there will be trouble if we do,” said the other
guard. “For us, anyway.”

The door behind the two men opened.
Xander poked his head out. “Oh, good, you're here,” he said. “We
were just about to send for you.”

“
Ha!” She lifted her chin and swept past the two guards who,
if anything, appeared relieved to have escaped their
dilemma.

She had never seen so many people in
the main conference room before. To the right of the Governor's
desk Jeffrey and a couple of other men were standing. The front row
of seats in front of the desk was occupied by the military and
civilian advisors. Behind them sat row after row of men and women,
most of whom she could not identify.

A man in the audience was on his feet.
“And just how are we supposed to believe they'll just go home and
leave us alone, eh? You're saying we should just let them go back
and plan a better invasion?”

Kristana looked
exhausted.
Why is she listening to these
fools? t
hought Aria.
Why doesn't she just throw them out and do whatever she
believes is the right thing to do?
But she
knew the answer to that one.
Colorado is
not an empire. If she starts down the road of acting like an
Empress she'll never fulfill the Dream of the late General – the
restoration of democracy and the Union.

“
No,” said the Governor, “I'm not saying that. But neither am
I saying that we should act like an indisciplined mob. War is a
funny business, people. Once the shooting is over you don't act
like rabid wolves and tear your opponents to pieces.”

“
With all due respect, Governor, I wasn't asking for that and
you know it.”

“
Then exactly what are you asking for, sir? That we start
imprisoning heads of foreign countries? From what we know, Peter
Martinez is gone. The current Honcho of the Lone Star Empire is
that young man to my left. Are you saying we should put him on
trial for his father's decisions?”

The standing man scowled. “Governor,
this isn't some tavern brawl. People are dead.”

“
Yes,” she said, staring him down. “On both sides. But the
invasion is over. It's time to get back to the work of fulfilling
the Dream. It's time to figure out how to work with our neighbors
instead of fighting them.”

There was a muttering about this in
the audience, not all satisfied with the idea.

Aria strode up the center aisle to
stand in front of her mother's desk. “Governor,” she said, “may I
speak?”

Kristana glanced at her. “By all
means, if you have something to say, let's have it,” she said.
“Everyone else seems to be doing it.”

Aria turned around and
scanned the audience. “The new Honcho didn't order this invasion,
and he's not going to be on trial.” She paused. “But even if he
was, he would still have the right to speak. Have I missed
something, or is everyone
but
him being given the opportunity? Why don't we
hear what he thinks? Are we afraid to listen?”

The murmuring began again
at that, and some of it sounded ugly. Kristana slammed her palm
down on her desk. “QUIET!” she roared. “I say again, we are
not
a mob or a pack of
wild animals. This is a civil gathering, and I
WILL
have civility!”