The Weapon - Resurrection - part 29
By Diana the Valkyrie
A terrorist bomb
Update: 03/07/2003 to valkyrie05


"How was I?" "You were magnificent. Both of you!" "Oh, you saw Duncan in
action, did you?" "I didn't think it was you answering all those money
questions." "Some of the jokes were mine, though." "But how did you do the
through-the-roof thing?" "I just collapsed the fields, then I'm really small,
and no-one will notice the microscopic hole in the roof. It's also a handy
format for travelling, I can move really fast when I don't have all the
baggage."

Then the two children ran in, "Wendy Wendy Wendy" and she was down on her
knees hugging them back. "David, they were asking me about, you know what. How
could they be so callous?" "Journalistic licence, Wendy, they think it allows
them to be right bastards. You did exactly the right thing, just refuse to
answer. And you played the whole thing just right, you're making yourself into
the symbol of hope. People need that sort of symbol, human minds are very
symbol-oriented. You should see how we go bananas over flags; the wings were
brilliant." She smiled. "Did you miss me?" "Very." "I can stay for a few hours
now, but then I have to get back to the hotel, you know?" "I know," I sighed.
The problem with being in love with the Guardian of Humanity, is that you have
to share her with several billion other people.

We spent the next few hours talking about the next steps, while Wendy crawled
around on the floor playing horsey with the two children, who were very
reluctant to be put down when it got to their bed-time. "I'll come again
tomorrow," Wendy promised. Matty frowned at her. "You'll spoil those kids,"
she said. "Oh, I don't think so, Matty. You turned out all right, didn't you?"
Matty smiled.

"Those are your grandchildren, right?" I asked. "Yes," she answered. "How come
they're living here?" I asked. Matty looked serious. "My daughter, Donna, left
them with me to look after. She's going through a divorce, and she just can't
cope. It'll be for a few months, and then they'll be back with their mum. They
don't know about the divorce, no-one knows how to tell them." "But you're
looking after them all by yourself? Where's your husband?" "What husband?"
"Well, you have a daughter, so ... well ... I assumed ..." "You assumed
wrong." "Oh, Matty," said Wendy, "a divorce? How awful for them. And double
awful for the kids." Matty nodded, and I could see the tears in her eyes. So
did Wendy. She pulled Matty down to the carpet, with Wendy underneath, and she
started hugging her. Matty tried to struggle free, but Wendy wasn't allowing
that. After a minute or so, Matty gave in to the inevitable, and let Wendy
hold her in her lap, and rock her back and forth. "Oh, Wendy, she's so
unhappy, and what can I do? Anything I do can only make it worse." "Why are
they getting divorced?" I asked. Matty shook her head. "I don't know, they
won't talk to me about it. Wendy, please," she said, and buried her head in
Wendy's shoulder. "Wendy?" she said in a muffled voice. "Mmm?" "Make it
better? Please?" Matty sounded like a very small child asking her mother to
fix her teddy bear.

Wendy looked over her head at me, and grimaced. My PDA vibrated, and I pulled
it out and looked at the screen. "That's what she used to say when she fell
over and hurt her knee", it read. "Well, can you do anything for her?" I typed
in. ">sigh<" said the PDA, "why do you humans keep hurting each other like
this?" "Because we're stupid," I typed back, "but I bet I know who we can get
advice on this from." "Who?" "Fiona." ">nod<" said the PDA.

Wendy cuddled me in bed that night, but when I woke up the next morning, she
was gone. I spent the day helping Matty around the house, fixing a wobbly
shelf and stuff like that. I drew the line at helping her to clean behind
heavy furniture that hadn't been moved for years. "Wendy can do that without
trying, it's silly me risking a bad back." We had the TV on; news these days
was wall-to-wall Wendy. Every channel was showing highlights from the press
conference, plus the inevitable battery of experts telling us what it all
meant. The overall opinion seemed to be that this was good news, and that if
people pulled together and help the Guardian, we might actually be able to end
the Depression. And it didn't hurt that stock markets had zoomed up around the
world. Wendy's first prediction had already come true.

And then suddenly, there was a newsflash on TV. An explosion in New York, more
to follow. The significance of the explosion was that it was at the hotel
where Wendy was staying. I hoped it hadn't hurt anyone; I wasn't worried about
Wendy getting hurt. From what she'd told me, you could drop a planet on her
head and she'd make a comment wondering where that came from.

"More to follow" turned out to be several casualties, shots of an ambulance
pulling away, and a street interview with Wendy. She was hovering several
inches above the ground, her cape streaming out behind her, and her long
blonde hair fluttering in the wind. And she looked angry. "Do you think they
were trying to kill you," asked the reporter. "The bomb was in my room, I
think that's pretty likely," she replied. "Do you know if the police have
caught them yet?" she was asked. "I don't think so," she said, "but as soon as
I've finished talking to you, I'm going after the guy who planted it; I know
who it was, and I know where he is now. Bye for now." and she shot up into the
air.

The camera followed her as she curved around a skyscraper and disappeared
behind some buildings.

My PDA vibrated, and I looked at the screen. "David, do you know anything
about the American legal system? How far can I go with this guy?" "No kissing
on a first date, Wendy." "Ha ha. Come on, David, I need to find out who was
behind this." "Use your judgment, love, but you don't have to be too gentle,
he's spilled a lot of blood."

Then the TV switched back to the studio. "We're taking you live to where the
Guardian of Humanity has apprehended an alleged suspect." Wendy had sold
another video feed to the news channels; for someone who didn't understand
about money, she was one smart cookie. On second thoughts, maybe this was
Duncan's idea.

Wendy was high above the city, wings beating slowly but strongly, holding a
man whose main reaction seemed to be extreme fear, and you could see why. She
gripped his upper arm with one hand, and that was all that lay between him and
a long, long fall to the ground. We could hear what they were saying. "Please,
please ... don't drop me, don't kill me," he was gibbering in fear. "Did you
give a chance to the people you blew up trying to kill me?" "Please ..." he
groaned. "Did you care who might get killed, who might get maimed?" "No, no."
"Is there any good reason why I shouldn't rip off both your arms and throw you
into the sea?" "unnhhh...." "Tell me who paid you to plant the bomb." "I
can't, I can't, they'll, they'll ..." "It doesn't matter what they'll do,
because what I'll do to you is worse. Pain? I know about pain. Do you know
about pain? Nothing hurts me, but I know about pain. Would you like me to
share some with you? Would you like some? I can give you lots. Lots and lots.
There's plenty for you here, and I can always make more if you want more. Pain
now, and pain for the rest of your life, a miserable life it will be, filled
with pain and humiliation. Now tell me who paid you to plant the bomb."

"Unhhh. " She shook him, like a terrier shakes a rat. "Tell me." She shook him
harder, and we could see his head flopping around. She shook him harder still,
and you could see his mouth wide open, trying to scream, but she was shaking
him so hard he couldn't. "Unhhh..." She continued to support him with one
hand, but now she put her other hand round his neck. He was totally
disoriented from her shaking him, and now she was threatening to stop him
breathing. "If you don't talk, you're no use to me. And I don't care about
you." Her hand started to grip his throat harder. "I'm not human, you know,"
she said, "I don't have to follow your rules." We could see her hand slowly
tightening, and he started to cough. "Please, please, OK, I'll talk, I'll
talk." She relaxed her grip on his throat. "I'm listening."

"It was the boss, Carmichael, it wasn't supposed to kill anyone, just to scare
you, to shut you up. Please ..." "You? Tried to scare me? You?" she shook him
again, like a cat shakes a mouse in its jaws. "Where's this Carmichael? Take
me to him. Now!" "He's at the waterfront, he uses the old Baxter building ..."

There was a blur of movement, a series of montages on the TV screen. A
terrified bomber being handed to a city cop. Wendy taking off again. Swooping
low over the riverside. The Baxter building. A splash of bricks as she smashed
through the side of the building. The inside of an office. The Guardian of
Humanity, standing tall and terrifying, arms folded, while several hoods fired
their guns at her. Bullets flying in several directions as they ricocheted
around the room.

And then.

Silence.

"Carmichael. I have come for you."

She turned to the other gunsels in the room. "Get out. Now." They fought each
other to be first through the door, and pretty soon, it was just her and
Carmichael.

"I have rights. You can't touch me. I'm calling my lawyer."

"No," said Wendy.

He picked up the phone, looked at it, shook it, and put it down again. It
obviously wasn't working.

"No," said Wendy.

"This is harassment, I'll sue."

Wendy just stood in front of him, hovering several inches from the ground,
hands on hips and staring straight into his eyes. "No. Sit."

He sat.

"Listen, Carmichael. Listen carefully. The guy you hired to blow up the hotel
I was in, is in police custody. Right now, he's singing like a canary, trying
to save himself from execution. To do that, he's dropping you into the frame."

Carmichael grimaced.

"Now, here's what you're going to do, and it might just save you from a 25,000
volt electric chair experience. You're going to tell me who paid you to do
this, and why."

"I'll tell you why, but I can't tell you who."

"Tell me why."

"If your move to kill the economic sanctions works, then smuggling isn't worth
doing any more. And there's some big firms have big bucks invested in the
smuggling game. They figure that with you out of the way, people will forget
the whole thing, and go back to keeping the trade barriers in place."

"Now tell me who."

"Jesus, lady, I told you, I can't tell you who."

"I'm no lady, and you will tell me."

"Lady, they'll kill me, forget it."

She leaned close to him, and slowly moved her hand toward his chest. And then,
shockingly, while we watched, while he stared aghast, her hand went into his
chest.

"Carmichael. I have your heart in my hand. All I need to do is squeeze."

He looked at her in horror. "If I squeeze gently, it hurts, doesn't it?"
"Unnnnhhhh...." "If I squeeze harder, you die." "Uunnnnhhh..." "Maybe they'll
kill you. Maybe they won't, because they're about to get a visit from me, and
when I've finished with them, they won't be in a position to bruise a peach,
let alone hurt you. But I've got your heart in my hand right this moment, and
you're seconds away from a fatal heart attack. Your heart, the key to your
life, that soft and squishy thing that's so important to you, so unimportant
to me. Choose fast, Carmichael. Choose very fast."

"Imps, Imperial Imports"

"Good boy. Very good boy. Now you just sit here quietly until the cops come.
Don't move, don't exert yourself. You'll be just fine, just concentrate on
taking shallow breaths, and don't move. You saved a life today. Yours."

She deployed those huge white wings again, and flew out through the window.
Without opening it first. Not that opening it would have done much, her fifty
foot wingspan demolished the entire wall.

. . .