Guardians Inc.:Thundersword (Guardians Incorporated #2) Read online

  At least Bolswaithe never seemed to mind cutting short his explanations; he always found another interesting topic to talk about.

  “Old?” Tony interrupted while disengaging his own armor. About half of the scales fell out of the bag, so he held the shoulder unit away from his body and turned it on. The chest plate reassembled on the air, and then he placed it into the bag. “It’s a Classic car, girl. A Classic, show some respect.”

  The 1959 Impala was more than a Classic car for Thomas; it was his grandfather’s most precious possession and a family heirloom. Gramps had already promised to give the car to his parents, and his father had told Thomas all the little stories of the car and what it meant for the family. His father dreamed of the day when he would give it to him. “You’ll meet the girl of your dreams in this car,” he’d always said.

  Thomas stepped into his bag and disengaged the armor, rubbing the car key with pride. “Who wants a ride?” he asked. The car was stored at the Mansion along with boxes and crates full of everything that had been salvaged from his house. Henri and his brother grotesque Jean Luc had demolished his house fighting Wraith creatures, and he had only visited the storage a couple of times to get pictures of his family. He’d left the car just as Grandpa had left it…covered in a soft tarp.

  “I’m in!” Tony said, lifting up his bag. “We can cruise Athens in style and then have a Mediterranean dinner.” He pursed his lips; he’d already heard stories about the car and what it meant to Thomas.

  “It’ll have to wait,” Bolswaithe interrupted. “Doctor Franco and Ms. Khanna are waiting for us.”

  “Well,” Tony said, “after that.”

  “After that is training session, study hall, then library work,” Bolswaithe added. Thomas bit his lip and began to walk away toward the door that connected the Church of Nereo and Achilleo across the street from Caracalla Baths to the Mansion.

  “You’re a real fun sponge sometimes, Bolswaithe. You know?” Tony whispered as he leaned closer to the butler.

  Bolswaithe watched Thomas’s face very carefully as he opened the door.

  Something happened in Bolswaithe’s neural quantum computer as qubits arranged themselves in an algorithm he had never experienced before.

  His left eye twitched involuntarily a couple of times.

  In all the time since his activation, Bolswaithe had worked with preset reactions, always tailoring his responses and actions to words and situations based on learned values. He had always responded to exterior stimuli choosing from the preset reactions, and his learning matrix allowed him to store the responses he got back from the environment and persons around him to advance the preset values he already had, which then furthered his tailoring of responses.

  As advanced as Bolswaithe was, he was ultimately a machine, a piece of technology so advanced that it mimicked real life. His designers had planned on that. Even if humans around him forgot that fact, he always knew he was a machine with preset reactions.

  Until this time. This time, the look on Thomas’s face made an internal change.

  Unexpected, surprising, and quite powerful.

  By following his programming, he had made Thomas feel discouraged. By reminding Thomas what he needed to do at that exact moment, and with those words and inflection, Bolswaithe had made Thomas lose all excitement about his gift.

  In a direct confrontation to his orders of keeping Thomas alive and well, in all respects, including psychologically and emotionally, he had caused an adverse effect in Thomas.

  He had let him down.

  And that, in turn, affected him in a way he had never experienced before.

  Bolswaithe analyzed his own reaction and could only come to the conclusion that he had experienced empathy. He understood that what he had experienced was completely out of his parameters and original programming, and that for the first time he had crossed into one of the scenarios his creators had theorized his quantum computer brain could actually develop.

  For the first time, Bolswaithe felt.

  Sitrep

  Doctor Franco’s office was one of the most interconnected rooms of Pervagus Mansion. To the real world, Guardians Inc. had presence in all major cities in the form of skyscrapers. At the top of each building, visitors entering the Hong Kong branch would look out the large windows and see the familiar Central District and harbor beyond. The same applied to visitors entering the Santiago, Boston, Berlin, Pretoria, or any of the other buildings around the world, and they would always see the familiar skyline of their respective cities.

  It wasn’t just the view though; thanks to the Mansion’s transport system the offices occupied the physical space that the Doctor needed or requested. The loss of cellular service to the visitors’ phones was always explained with the need for security by the Doctor. Many other companies had the same measures, so it had never been an issue.

  The same trans-situation system made it impossible for someone from the outside to look into the office. Even if they somehow found the plans of the buildings, they would not show Doctor Franco’s office; it was like looking through a one-way mirror.

  As Thomas entered the office, the view changed from Sydney’s harbor with the Opera house in the background to a view dominated by the Eiffel Tower. When the Doctor was alone or with Guardians Inc. employees with sufficient access the views rotated between the separate buildings around the world and Thomas thought that the change in scenery maybe was connected to the Doctor’s mood.

  Since meeting the Doctor for the first time, Thomas had learned to almost “read” the Doctor’s moods through his fidgeting. The CEO of Guardians Inc. was always on a constant state of movement. His hands fidgeted, his Daliesque moustache twitched, his lips trembled, and his eyes rolled or jumped constantly from one side to the other. His eyebrows were a telltale sign of what he was thinking—a disbelieving, single eyebrow arch or a double lift for surprise. He had never seen a double arch for anger, although Killjoy had told him it happened sometimes. The Doctor tapped his fingers while he listened, and gestured with his hands as he spoke. If he was sitting at a meeting he somehow kept his upper body still while one, or sometimes both, knees pumped up and down. Thomas had even seen him shuffling his feet as if practicing a twist dance while listening to an important presentation or report.

  Maybe the Doctor’s fidgeting was because he could read most minds and it was probably very taxing to be aware of everyone’s thoughts.

  Or maybe it was a very elaborate misdirection strategy. Thomas had talked with Tony about the Doctor often, and they had come to the conclusion that the Doctor was probably the most powerful man in the world and to anyone who didn’t know him, he probably looked absurd with his fidgeting, cane and ever-present cravat tie around his neck.

  Nothing more than just a perfect cliché of the rich, mildly loony, and eccentric. Thomas had certainly thought that way about the Doctor at first.

  The other wall of Doctor Franco’s office was decorated with masterful paintings and various photographs of the Doctor and different heads of state. Two large full bookcases were side by side, and on the wall behind the desk was a mosaic of large screen TVs displaying real-time information from stock markets, news, and weather from around the world. One of the monitors displayed in different colors the alerts the Guardians had confirmed as Magic interfering with technology. “Technical Blue” and “Potentially Yellow” alerts dotted the map, but so far no “Fatality Red” dots had appeared.

  As soon as they came in, Doctor Franco stopped looking at the monitors, and a wall slid open covering the TVs.

  Killjoy was sitting by the desk in her usual Vice Principal disguise. She was slowly sipping on her coffee mug and her metal pad rested atop the Doctor’s desk. Her thick glasses were hanging from a chain around her neck, and her beautiful, light-brown eyes centered on Thomas.

  It was uncanny how Killjoy could disguise herself from the tall, six-armed, Master-at-arms, beautiful Doyenne Kiran, to the triple-chinned, barrel-bodied Vice Principal
Ms. “Killjoy” Khanna with just a knitted sweater, long skirt, and large glasses. He had seen her literally transform countless times at the Five Treasures of Snow Dojo, but he had never ceased to marvel at the transformation itself, a well-practiced ballet as her six arms undid buttons and pulled on belts, and her body seemed to unfold from within the confines of her barreled sweater. He no longer had the interaction with her stern but fair “Killjoy,” Vice Principal persona anymore. Even when in disguise she remained Doyenne of Martial Arts. He knew how strong she really was, how inflexible she could be when teaching, and how dangerous she could be as a fighter.

  Of course, he had also seen her tempered, even caring side. It wasn't a mystery that she favored Henri in a special way; the grotesque and Killjoy shared something close to a true relationship and they had even spent time together many times since they started sparring.

  Tony called them “dates,” but Henri denied anything more than special training sessions, claiming that only he approached her in strength, if not martial prowess.

  Thomas decided it wasn't wise to dwell on the matter and kept his opinions to himself...and Bolswaithe.

  Elise was the first to speak up. “Morgan beat us again,” she said aloud. “We had everything ready for Thomas to come in and take the sign, but Morgan’s escorts appeared in front of us and blocked us while Morgan read the sign.”

  “Just like in Aoudaghost, Doctor,” Bolswaithe offered.

  “How many?” Doctor Franco asked. He pressed on his desk and monitors lit up with images taken from security cameras around Caracalla. One of the images showed a Magical portal opening and a couple of Azure Guards coming through, but the image turned to static as a third person stepped through.

  “Three, plus Morgan,” Bolswaithe continued. “Two elves and a human.”

  “The mountain lion faun?”

  “I didn’t see him,” Thomas said.

  “They didn’t take him this time,” Killjoy interrupted. “Like us, they are still respecting the treaties of 1241 signed in Novgorod. That’s why Henri didn’t accompany you. Elves can pass as humans, but most Fauns can’t and grotesques certainly don’t. They don’t want to escalate Faun or Magic presence into the open.”

  Thomas sighed; Once again he felt a little lost. He hadn’t reached the part of the Guardians’ history where the treaties of Novgorod had been signed.

  “With the Mountain Lion faun they have a squad of five,” Killjoy continued after taking another sip of her coffee. “Just like we have a hand to search for the Book of Concord, the Warmaster has his own.”

  “Morgan is respecting all the treaties for the time being, at least,” the Doctor said, “but that doesn't help us. We have to find out exactly how he's tracking and getting the advantage on us. If we don't, we are only leading Morgan to the signs. Our network is immeasurably larger than theirs, and all our resources are centered on finding the clues for you, Thomas.” The Doctor’s hand movements betrayed his feeling of impotence. “We can't let them continue stealing the signs from you. We have to learn how they do it.”

  “If they are using magical scrying, it's a spell we had never seen before,” Elise offered. “I’ve asked King Seryaan and the Elven Council to try and follow us like the Azure Guards, but they couldn't.”

  “It has to be magical in nature,” Killjoy said. “The Warmaster would never use technology.”

  “If it was any kind of technology we'd know about it,” Bolswaithe said.

  The Doctor rubbed his temples. “We'll keep at it. I’m sure that we’ll find out soon enough. Meanwhile, you’ll have to stay inside the Mansion.” The Doctor stopped rubbing his temples for a second. “I'm sorry,” he said. “We can't risk losing another sign, but in the meantime we can gather something more from these images.” The Doctor enlarged the best camera angle on his desk. “Here are the two Elven guards, and then cameras go blind when the human appears. That tells us that he’s a Mage.”

  “More like a witch,” Elise corrected. “I got a good look at her when they moved inside Caracalla. She’s a female.”

  “I didn’t see a woman,” Tony said. “Did you, Thomas?”

  Thomas shrugged.

  “That’s because you where hiding behind the rocks,” Elise said coldly.

  “I did see the alien rods though,” Tony said smugly.

  “What alien rods?” the Doctor asked.

  “The flying rods the aliens use for surveillance,” Tony said. “They were all over the place.”

  Elise sighed. “I didn’t see any flying rod,” she said mockingly. The Doctor turned to Bolswaithe.

  “I didn’t either,” Bolswaithe told him. “And the sensors on the equipment didn’t register anything like an alien flying rod.” Thomas knew that he was probably talking about his own internal sensors.

  “There’s even one in the camera.” Tony pressed the rewind button and played back the video. Just before the Mage appeared onscreen a flash zoomed past the camera view. “There!” he said, pointing at the screen. “You see that? Alien rod.”

  Bolswaithe rewound the video again, stopped it when the line crossed the screen, and they all peeked in closer.

  The thing looked like a rod with a long, undulating wing on each side, but the image was so blurry they could only make out the general shape.

  “Alien rod,” Tony repeated, as if by saying it again it would become the truth. “I'm sure the Guardians know the truth about them.”

  “It’s only a well-documented optical illusion,” Bolswaithe said, pressing a button. Numerous windows appeared on the screen, from kids’ birthdays to base jumpers. The same rod-like things zoomed past the frame. “Everyone sees them only after they review the video, Tony. Nobody sees them during the event. It’s just the effect of the motion blur as an insect passes in front of a camera with long exposure.” Bolswaithe pulled up images being reproduced in controlled environments. “There are no ‘alien rods.’”

  “Well…I saw one,” Tony said, crossing his arms, “and it wasn't an optical effect.”

  “And that’s why you were hiding behind a rock?” Elise mocked him. “The alien scared you?”

  “They were also shooting bugs at us!” Tony said. “And we were in the frontline, unlike you.”

  “Did you get one?” Killjoy stood up, interrupting what promised to be a fight between Elise and Tony.

  Elise flashed a final glare at Tony before pulling out a glass jar from her bag; the live centipede was walking inside, its mandibles clacking against the glass. A shiver ran through Tony as Elise handed the jar to Killjoy, who then opened it. The centipede walked around her hand and arm as she took a closer look at it. The centipede seemed to be at ease on her hand, almost like a pet.

  “A beautiful, little, dangerous beast isn’t it?” Killjoy stroked the little animal with her hand. The centipede arched like a cat to the caress.

  “You see that thing, Doc?” Tony said with disgust. “Why do we have to use darts when they are using those things?”

  “Reciprocation,” the Doctor told him.

  “What?” Tony asked.

  “Reciprocation. We deal out what we receive,” Killjoy said, throwing the centipede at Tony.

  The centipede landed over Tony and ran up and down his chest while he jumped around trying to get it off. As he finally grabbed it, the centipede bit down on his hand, and he let it go. He grabbed his hand in pain, and as he yelled he became rigid and his skin took a grayish hue. He was completely paralyzed, and Killjoy stopped him from hitting face-first on the floor with her hand on his forehead. The centipede crawled back onto Killjoy and cradled in her arm.

  “Don’t worry,” she told Thomas. “These don’t kill; they just give you time to think what you did wrong.” She pushed Tony back toward Bolswaithe, who caught him and propped him up with one arm.

  “So he can hear us?” Thomas asked. A grimace mixed with surprise, pain, and anger was frozen on Tony’s face.

  “Hear us, see us…he’s just in there with n
owhere to go.”

  “That’s Morgan’s idea, I bet.” The Doctor stood up from the desk. “He doesn’t want to see you hurt, Thomas. So we act in kind, with non-lethal weaponry.”

  Elise stood in front of Tony. “Does he feel anything?” she asked Killjoy.

  “Not really, but he will feel it when the effect passes.”

  Elise gave Tony a flick on his nose with her fingers. “That’s less than what you deserve for…OW!” She grabbed her neck, turning toward Killjoy. “Why did you do thhh…” she turned gray and fell forward over Tony.

  “We don’t take advantage of our own either.” Killjoy pulled her hand back with the centipede. “You are a team.” She picked up her coffee mug and metal pad and motioned toward Bolswaithe. “The venom effect lasts about an hour, but I’ll give them something right now so we can talk and practice teamwork for the remainder of the day. Think about what you did wrong and how to correct it,” she said to the paralyzed Tony and Elise. “Please bring them along, Bolswaithe. Goodnight, Thomas.”

  As Killjoy left the office, Bolswaithe followed closely behind carrying Tony under one arm and Elise under the other.

  “So…” the Doctor said, coming out from behind his desk. “Bolswaithe told me that you got a message from your grandfather.”

  “A birthday present,” Thomas said, pulling out the car key from his pocket.

  “The Impala?” The Doctor smiled. “That’s a wonderful gift, Thomas. Congratulations! You’ll have to take me for a ride some time.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Thomas smiled; it really was a wonderful gift.