Operation Asezuldin Part 7

“Well, that was interesting,” Trevn said, getting off the bus. “Is anyone going to object to us carrying weapons around city hall?”

“That’s why we have portable weapon lockers,” O’Marx replied, heading up the steps to the building. “A little robot that’ll tote around your gear. That way, you can’t draw them on a whim, but if something should go crazy, you’ll have them on hand…Not that being weaponless would mean much for you supers, would it?”

Passing through the doors of the city hall building produced an electrical tingle, a bit like standing close to a large Van De Graaf generator. “Scan complete; guests, would you like a portable weapons locker?” A computerized voice asked.

“Yeah,” O’Marx said, taking his pistol from its holster. A robot wheeled up and opened the two large compartments built into the top of its boxy torso. It stood on four legs, each ending with a wheel; it lacked any real face or humanoid features. Trevn deposited his staves and a pistol in the weapons locker, and Sunny pulled another pistol—she had gotten one with a sunflower patterned casing—out of her travel bag. The soldiers likewise divested their weapons to the robot’s care.

Sunderblast left her laser cannon with the robot locker along with the other weapons in her possession: a folding knife (more for survival purposes than actual self-defense) and a slim stun gun, both items that she kept in convenient little holsters clipped onto her belt.

Inside the building was a surprisingly comforting décor that maintained the abstract-art feel with an organic vibe achieved through softly curving hallways, large arched doors that slid up into the walls instead of swinging open, high ceilings, warmly diffused lighting, and pale wood-grain patterns on the walls.

In the halls and lobbies they passed through was a bustle of activity made by a plethora of creatures that were almost all non-human. Even the more humanoid ones had obvious differences, like a pair of horns or unnaturally-colored hair. Sunderblast almost bumped elbows with an eight-foot-tall woman with dark gray skin, poofy silver hair, and four muscular arms generously tattooed with various tribal runes. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to be giving the party odd looks, at least that she could tell. Sunderblast simply assumed that odd troupes of people passed through regularly in places like these, enough not to warrant second glances from the busy people.

The weapons locker closed its two compartments and wheeled after the group. It wasn’t long before they arrived at a room set up like a senate chamber, with tiered bench seats in concentric circles facing the center. Almost all of the seats were occupied by people in various forms of formal and official-looking garb. There were representatives of what looked like every major race on Asezuldin—including a large hole in one wall for a dragon to poke its head in from outside.

One of the councilors, a rare human in the racial mix, rose to her feet. She had long age-silvered hair tied back with a headband that matched her piercing hazel eyes. Her outfit was like the progeny of a high-ranking military uniform and evening dress—beautiful, but functional and commanding. “I’m Councilor Celine Oro, speaking on behalf of humanity and Asezuldin. Firstly, welcome…please have a seat, there’s much to discuss and no need for you to stand through it all.”

“All due respect, ma’am, I think I should set up a defensive perimeter. We’ve already had trouble from a group of anti-Earthers,” O’Marx said.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Trevn nodded.

“City hall’s guards and defenses are on alert,” Celine nodded. “Good to see a healthy sense of caution; it’s something that many of your kin lack in this world.”

“The Paragons are reckless lunatics with demigod complexes,” grumbled a satyr a few seats down from Celine.

“They’re our people, and we’re here to try and get them back to Earth,” Trevn said. “Which has the added bonus of getting them out of your hair—and hopefully, getting them turned back into the normal people they used to be.”

“All good things,” the dragon representative rumbled. “All the information we have on them is yours.”

“With the hope that you’ll share what you know in return,” Celine said. “Such as…”

“How we crossed the barrier,” Mack’s voice rang out, and a moment later he had appeared as a hologram next to the others. He adjusted his glasses. “Mack Seltsam, mad scientist. I mapped the patterns of spatial flux in the dimensional intersection, allowing for accurate prediction of when it is passable. I’m currently experimenting with methods of opening the way through when and where needed,” he said, bringing up a series of holograms and technical data in the air around him as he spoke.

Sunderblast watched the assembly with interest, noting their attitude. For the most part, they seemed inclined to help get the Paragons off Asezuldin, which was understandable, considering the trouble that had been caused. At the same time, they were guarded and she sensed that many of them held a lot of distrust against humans (at least, the ones from Earth). Again, it was justifiable. She had been the object of similar distrust ever since she gained powers and went out in costume to fight crime; even though she was a hero, those whom she saved typically feared her only a few shades less than they feared the actual villains.

That in mind, if she was going to say anything, she had better tread carefully. “Speaking of getting back to Earth, has there been any progress on reversing the effect that changed Earth humans into these Paragons?”

There were many other questions crowding to get out of her after that one, but she figured barraging the council with them would only make her a nuisance. Plus, she didn’t want to sidetrack the conversation too far, when Mack seemed like he was about to make a point.

One of the councilors twisted what seemed to be its face towards Sunderblast. It was hard to make out or name any specific features of this being, because rather than a solid body, it rippled and twisted like a glob of oil floating up through water. As it “looked” at her, it turned the same red as her armor, its form twisting into something that could be called humanoid, as long as the definition was sufficiently loose. ”Our best plan: return them home. Perhaps, it is the influence of here that changes,” it “said”, the words and concepts brushing Sunderblast’s thoughts. ”All attempts, magic and force, to change/to remove, have failed. Force, was returned greatly excess. Paragons are power; strange, unpredictable. They use magic, different rules following.”

The councilor pulled away from Sunder’s mind and returned to its amorphous shape. The mental contact had left her feeling like she had soap bubbles in her brain and ears. Trevn had apparently ‘heard’ it as well, based on his expression and the faint shake of his head. Mack was unaffected, probably because he was only present in hologram.

“Sunder, you’ve got more questions, you may as well bring them up,” Trevn said.

Councilor Celine nodded. “That is the point of a free exchange of information. Please, we’ll answer whatever we can.”

It took her a moment to clear her mind of the residual telepathic communication, but Sunderblast recovered quickly. Although it had been more invasive than the dragons’ telepathy, the creature had provided new information. “Thank you. So, I’ve been trying to get my head around the big picture here. If we can round up the Paragons and somehow get them back to Earth, theoretically they might change back to the way they were and we go our separate ways, right? Of course, the ‘how’ is the hard part, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to have a goal to shoot for.”

“The main problem with the plan is that most of the really troublesome Paragons don’t want to go home, or they think Asezuldin is their home,” Celine said.

“Hmm. I seem to recall that they had taken on the mantle of adventurers?” Trevn said.

“A word that may as well mean ‘killer’, as far as the dragonkin, and many others, are concerned,” the dragon councilor growled.

“Your point, Trevn?” Celine prompted, shooting the dragon a look somewhere along the lines of ‘please don’t set anything on fire’; it wasn’t clear whether this was an order, a polite request, or a worried one.

“What if we came bearing news of a legendary quest across the barrier, in Earth? All the adventurer Paragons jump on it, all the ones that kept their original minds go as well because they want to go home…That might leave a few Paragons here, but our team can address them as needed.”

“Hmm. Seems I can’t be the only intelligent one,” Mack said. “Based on the data I have, that’s got a 64.33849 percent chance of success. Running a separate prediction to estimate how much data I’m missing and how much it would affect the outcome…”

“Stop when you get to three decimals,” Trevn said.

“Only three?!” Mack cried, scandalized.

“Two would be fine.”

“At that point, you may as well just have me round the answer off to ‘non-zero chance of success or failure’,” Mack grumbled, working away at the calculations.

Sunderblast rolled her eyes at Mack’s continued derogatory remarks about everyone else’s intelligence. However, Trevn’s ‘adventurers’ comment sparked an idea in her mind. “Yeah, it could almost be like a video game! We need to think of a quest, and find a way to get their attention.”

“Can’t be that hard to think of a quest,” Trevn said. “I mean, aside from just making one up, it’d be easy to color existing real-world—or perhaps I should say real-Earth—problems as quests worthy and needing of heroic action...”

“Famine, wars, disease, kittens and puppies in need of adoption!” Sunny added. “All the usual suspects. Spin any of them right, and they’re a quest. Heck, I used to make quests of grocery shopping!”

“Heh, wouldn’t it be nice if quests were as clearly outlined and simple as a shopping list,” Trevn said.

“You clearly haven’t seen my lists, or the places I shop.”

Sunderblast continued, “And we’ll need to get a portal open in the first place, as well as set up communications with the folks back on Earth. Looks like we have our work cut out for us.” With a small sigh, she looked back and forth across the council room and asked, “Have there been any successful negotiations made with the Paragons at all, by any chance? It might be difficult to talk to them if they only shoot first and ask questions later.”

“I’ll work on reopening the portal and establishing contact,” Mack said. “I have a few requests for materials and components--”

“Send us a list, we’ll send you whatever we can, as well as a few other geniuses and lab hands,” Celine said.

“I only need the materials,” Mack said with a slight grimace as he adjusted his glasses.

“Regardless, more manpower on this means that it’ll get done sooner,” Celine said. “And the sooner the better, since at the very least you and your team need to call home again.”

“Mad scientists work better alone. Some get minions, but I can’t stand any minion that I don’t have direct brain interface command with,” Mack said.

“Which explains why you…don’t actually have any computer chips in your head, that I know of,” Trevn said.

“Every time Spencer goes intangible, the buffoon loses them.”

Another councilor cleared one of his two throats and spoke up from the corresponding head: “There have been a few successful negotiations with the Paragons; we convinced them to stay mostly to one area, for starters.” The second head nodded, and continued. “Our negotiations with them have been enough that we know, mostly, what would be the best place for you to start.” The first head continued almost immediately: “Or, at least, the safest place.”

“Do Earth-humans sleep, before they become Paragons?” Queried another councilor, this one a collection of hovering prismatic crystals.

“A good point—it is getting late,” Celine said. “And if you meant another sense of that phrasing, I don’t think them sleeping would turn them into Paragons.”

Sunderblast made a mental note never to be Mack’s minion, under any circumstance. In response to Celine’s comment, she shuddered and said, “I hope it doesn’t!”

She glanced at Trevn and Sunny. “Also, speaking of sleep...I don’t know about you guys, but I’m about ready for--” Her empty stomach grumbled and she changed her mind. “...dinner.”

The dragon councilor let out a great roaring guffaw of laughter, which set fire skittering along the ceiling. It was already a bit blackened there, though the ceiling tiles looked to be at least partially fireproofed—they probably had been shortly after the introduction of a dragon to the council. “Even the mighty have to eat—and the mightiest have to feast!” The dragon proclaimed.

“Right. Failing any matters that can’t wait, meeting adjourned for food and sleep, in either order,” Celine said, and the other council members gave assorted forms of “aye”. Most of them got up to leave (which in some cases meant taking to the air), while some simply vanished from their places in an assortment of means.

“So then. Do I share my hunt with you, Earth-kin?” The dragon rumbled, turning eyes like luminous zircons, each the size of softballs, towards Sunder and the others.

Sunderblast wasn’t sure what kind of creature a dragon would have hunted or if it would be unforgivably rude to refuse. She tried to come to a middle ground. “We certainly appreciate your offer, though I’m not sure where the dietary needs of humans and dragons overlap… Uh, what did you hunt, if I may ask?”

Another rumble of laughter sent a smaller puff of flame up to the ceiling. “Mm, you didn’t smell like a diplomat, you smelled like you’d been with dragonkin, that’s why I offered. So, for the record: if a dragon offers to share the spoils of a hunt with you, it means they have at least a modicum of respect and like for you, whatever their reason. Acceptance or refusal are equally polite, what matters is how you say it. Example: ‘Sounds like a good idea, what’s on the menu?’ Good acceptance. ‘Well, if you insist,’” He punctuated this with a roll of his eyes. “That’s the rude way of doing it. You’ll have to be extraordinarily stupid to try out the really rude way to go about this, I’m not going to give any pointers.”

“All good points for me,” Sunny said.

“I’ll stick with good old mythical manners number one: if it’s bigger than you, can eat you, or can breathe fire, be polite. If more than one, extra polite,” Trevn said.

“As for dietary overlap, pretty much, I can eat anything you would consider ‘food’, and then a bit. Unless you’re some new sort of human that chews down tough grasses, tree bark, trees, and the occasional bit of gravel for roughage?”

“Whole grains are about as close as I get to anything on that list, and I think that goes for all of us,” Sunny said, glancing at the others to confirm.

“Well, then it sounds like a few slabs of fresh-caught, killed, and cooked meat should do the trick,” the dragon said, ducking out of the opening in the council chamber wall. “And that’s all one step by the way—kill and cook are the first bit of step one. Meet me outside if you would, sharing a meal when I can’t get more than my head, neck and one arm in the room…no, thanks.” So saying, he lofted into flight and disappeared.

“Good job handling that,” Trevn said, patting Sunder on her armored shoulder. “Not perfect, maybe, but it’s pretty much what I would have done, and a good job to boot.”

    Anna laughed along with the dragon, and she appreciated Trevn’s words of approval. As she and the others walked out of the council room to meet the dragon outside, she imagined that she could almost smell the familiar charred-meat aroma of a cookout, and her mouth watered in anticipation. At this point she’d probably gone for at least six hours without eating. Grilled meat sounded as good as anything, and with the activity from earlier in the day, she had worked up a healthy appetite.

    She undid the seals on her helmet and pulled it off, tucking it under her arm and running her other hand through her short hair to fluff it up a little. She felt like she might finally be getting used to this wacky, patched-together world.