Mesa Warming - Saturday - 2

Mesa Warming - Saturday - 2 - A Dr. Mauser Story
By Richard Alan Chandler © 2010

Dr. Mauser's hand hovered over the Enter key.  He very nearly let inertia carry him forward, and invoke one of the most glorious disasters in all of history.  Two of P.A.T.R.I.O.T.'s nigh invincible SkyCarriers, flying aircraft carriers mated to inverted battleships, were hovering over his mesa retreat in an unheard-of joint operation, and he was poised to do what no one in the entire world of Evil had been able to do, twice over - not the Guild, not the Brotherhood, and certainly not the League.  Those unassuming four foot square panels, attached to the innocuous little blimp tethered to the top of the Mesa were primed to channel enough energy skyward to burn a hole through both ships, and if he was lucky, cut them in half before they could rain explosive death down on his head.  If he was going to die, he was going to go out with a bang that would echo through time.

It was so delicious that there was almost nothing that could stop him.  Almost nothing.  The one thing that stood between him and legend was his mentor, Professor Gunn, and the new reality he had just introduced him to.  In this new reality there was doubt about what he should do.

"Seriously, Paul, stand down," Gunn said.

This presented a problem.  Avoiding the usual mistakes that Evil Geniuses fall prey to, he had not included an abort button on the targeting program he had written.  It also didn't have a countdown.  Carefully he reached around behind the laptop and unplugged the Ethernet cable that tied him in to the mesa's radar systems and the Fireball's fire control systems.  Then he hit the button, and the program tried to run, and errored out.

"Okay Lucy, you've got some 'splainin' to do," Mauser remarked in a Desi Arnez impression.  "What the hell do you mean 'my new friends'?"  In spite of the joke, he was furious.

"Who do you think I've been on the phone with all night?"  The old man held up his fat Iridium satphone.  "Look, we need to talk, alone.  Now."

"Right this way," Mauser said, indicating the door, with tension seething in his voice.

"Sir?"  It was Major Anya Mikitenko, Mauser's Chief Agent and second in command.  The former KGB officer was looking confused, a particularly disturbing expression from a woman whose normal aspect invoked fear in virtually all who saw her.

"It's okay Kitten.  Pass along the order to stand down.  Keep everyone at their posts, but nobody is to act without new orders."  Mauser was immune to Anya's aura of terror, and was the only one who dared call her by that nickname, which she detested, but had given up objecting to years ago.  "Let's go," he said to Gunn as he left the Operations Center.

---

Slightly deeper into the mesa, down in the bunker that served as a safe haven for non-combat personnel  during a raid, Infinity was on her fourth cup of water, and sweating profusely.  "Are you sure you're okay?" asked Madeline, who had joined Isabel in her concern.

"Yeah, I just need to rest."

Inside the bunker, there was a buzz about what had just happened.

"It was Olaf...."

"... that big jerk tried to hide in here...."

"... and she was all, like, brrrrrrrrr in his face like a jackhammer all the way down...."

"... so tiny!  It's hard to believe she took a guy like that down...."

"... used to be a real pest, but the boss really turned her around, I guess...."

Infinity heard all this, and it was hard to understand.  From her point of view, it had taken forever to beat the hulking ex-guard to the floor with the butt of her gun, but slowly she was putting it all together.  This was not the first time she'd had a violent attack like this in her life, but it was the first time she could remember what happened, although it was a bit fuzzy.  She wasn't sure why her recall of the event was so unclear, but when she concentrated, she finally realized that the man who seemed so resistant to going down when she beat on him had actually been in freefall.  She'd heard about people who said time seemed to stand still in a crisis, but for her, while time may have slowed way down, her body hadn't.

But apparently there was a terrible price to pay for this.  She tried not to show it, but holding up the half-empty paper cup of water was about the limit of her abilities at the moment.  She was sure she had really hurt herself with the exertion.  She had never been particularly muscular or strong, even when she was doing gymnastics (although she had always been extremely flexible), and whipping around the seven pounds or so of steel at impossible speed felt like it had torn every fiber of her underdeveloped muscles.  Not only was she in pain, but she was terribly overheated, and while she had finally caught her breath, when the fight ended, she had nearly passed out for lack of oxygen.

She was also scared.  One blessing from the previous incidents was that she had blacked out all memory of them.  The missing memory and the ample evidence of violence back then were scary enough, but this was her first real fight, and the vision of what she had done with her own hands, and what she was thinking while she did it, was even more frightening.  The image of the damage she had done to the man's face made her sick.  She had never imagined herself to be capable of anything like that.  In a way, she preferred the Fugue, but this incident had stripped her of the mental defense of deniability.  In spite of her bravado in front of Isabel minutes earlier, she now had to face the fact that she really was capable of uncontrolled deadly violence.

Maybe Wanda was right.  Maybe she was dangerous.

No!  There was no way that bitch could be right!  She had been in control of what she did.  She was protecting her friends.  She was doing the right thing.  Well, maybe her control wasn't complete.  Perhaps a blind rage was a more accurate description, but at least it was directed at the right person.  And this time it was different from the past.  Maybe she could learn to control it, or at least stop it from happening again.

She began to think about why this was different, why she could remember the events a little instead of blocking them out like before.  As she stared at the floor, looking at her MP-5, her mind drifted for a moment.  She was going to have to clean off that buttstock really soon or Anjela, er, Agent Ramirez, would have her hide.  That's when she made the connection.  Because she had never experienced the events in a previous attack, she had never realized that what had been happening to her on the shooting range was probably related.  When she was shooting she could perceive the cycling of the machine gun and had ample subjective time to control it.  Although her physical reactions were not accelerated, she had the mental time and capacity to compensate, and her superior body awareness from her gymnastics training made it easy for her to arrive at the right position at the right time.

Fear had been the key the first time she fired a gun.  Fear triggered her accelerated time.  But as she continued working on her skills, the fear subsided, but the acceleration remained.  Fear clearly was the cause when she had been grabbed in Paris, and at the club last month.  But after working at the threshold of fear at the range, and conquering it, she had gained a small measure of control over this state, at least the mental side of it.

The need to act, the fight reflex, had pushed her beyond the mental acceleration to the physical, which her body simply could not handle.  It explained the paralysis and pain in Paris.  The blackouts were probably related to going too far or too fast.  This time she had probably stopped just short of blacking out.  It was all so clear now.

The realization was an end to the burden she'd been carrying for the last six years.  Suddenly it made sense.  She had been worried that perhaps she had a multiple personality that took over when she was in danger, or something unpredictable like that.  She had long lived in fear of losing control and hurting people she didn't want to.  It was part of why she had cooperated with Payne for so long, as long as he kept her isolated and restrained, she couldn't harm anyone.  But now she had a shot at controlling it.  And what better place to learn about it than in a Mad Scientist's lab?

What a pity the second greatest brain expert in the world after Payne was that bitch who hated her guts, who was still curled up in a ball on a cot in the corner afraid that she might have to pay for her latest crimes.

---

Professor Gunn suddenly found himself dragged by the lapel through the second door down from the Operations Center.  His amused expression did not exactly help Mauser's mood, which was beyond foul.

"So I've got the equivalent of two fucking Imperial Star Destroyers hovering over my head, ready to blow me to kingdom come, and now you say that you are the one who called them in?  I would love to hear your explanation."

"Officially, they're here to intimidate you."

"Excuse me?"

"That's their cover story."

"Since when does P.A.T.R.I.O.T. need a cover story to move against Evil, especially in the middle of the desert?"

"This will all become clear to you once you meet Steven.  You know, the fellow I was speaking to earlier?  He's on the council too."

Mauser was momentarily confused.  "Look, I can kind of believe in a shadowy council that secretly manipulates the actions of Evil organizations, but I can't believe that the Forces of Justice would have a seat on it."

"It's not a Council of Evil, it's the Council on The Code."  Gunn watched Mauser's reaction.  "Ah, I can see, the gears are turning now, eh?"  He ticked off on his fingers, "Evil, Justice, and Government, they all have a stake in The Code, and a say in how it's administered."

The gears were turning indeed, as Mauser considered the implications.  Of course, like anyone who had been through high school history, he knew about how The Code had originally been negotiated, but even though it suddenly made sense that there would be ongoing administrative needs, they were conducted so secretly, virtually no-one was aware of them.

"Okay, I'll trust you on this, but you're really pushing my limits.  Let's go meet this Steven of yours.  But after I prepare for a few contingencies.  Wait here."

---

The tunnel through the solid rock of the Mesa was laser straight, perfectly smooth, and a mere six feet in diameter.  It was also unimproved.  There was no lighting or drainage, and the slight seepage combined with the polished stone surface made footing treacherous.  The figure navigating the tunnel nearly slipped, regained its footing, then stopped for a moment.  The figure pressed a button on the handle of the valise it was carrying, and the case dropped about a foot, revealing a frame attached to the handle that slid up from the top of the case.  Suspended in the middle of the frame was a combat revolver.  The figure reached down and unclipped the tactical flashlight from the underside of the revolver's barrel, clicked it on, and then pushed the holster-frame back into the top of the case before continuing down the tunnel.

---

Agent Anjela Ramirez stood in the cupola atop the mansion, scanning the undersides of the SkyCarriers for possible targets.  Her Denel NTW-20 was hanging in a pintle mount on the railing next to her.  Half a dozen of the massive 20mm anti-materiel rifle's three-round magazines sat on the railing, with a variety of armor piercing, incendiary, and explosive projectiles.  There were half a dozen other Minions of Dr. Mauser up there with her, mostly sharpshooters waiting for a chance to take on the P.A.T.R.I.O.T. infantry, but she had detailed the fellow next to her to reload magazines for her.

She lowered her binoculars.  It was hopeless.  Even with the single largest shoulder-fired rifle in current production at her side, she might as well be trying to take out the USS Iowa with a BB-gun.  One salvo from those ten inch cannons on the underside of the SkyCarrier would level the entire building.  Although it struck Anjela odd that those guns were still in a stowed position.  She wondered why.

Her answer came from the PA speaker in the roof of the cupola. "This is Major Mikitenko.  All combat personnel are to be standing down but remaining at posts until further orders.  All non-combat personnel are to be returning to duty."  The message repeated twice more.

"Weird," she said.  "All right, you heard the scary lady, make 'em safe and relax, we're going to be here a while."

A few minutes later, she observed a helicopter depart from the flight deck of the Washington and set down on the helipad, while below her, Dr. Mauser and his guest climbed aboard one of the oversized golf carts and drove out to meet it.

---

The electric car navigated smoothly along the recently paved path, but Dr. Mauser still had difficulty keeping his eyes on the road.  He kept looking at the hovering behemoths surrounding the mountaintop.  "Douglas Adams was right, 'exactly the way bricks don't.'"

They ducked as they ran up to the door of the chopper, something everyone instinctively does, even though the whirling blades were more than a dozen feet off the ground.  In moments it took off, speeding along the runway a short distance and then circling to gain altitude.  Two minutes later it was settling down on the SkyCarrier's flight deck.  Suitcase sized robots zipped out to the chopper's skids and clamped them to the deck with powerful electromagnets before the pilot allowed them to disembark.  From the helipad it was a few dozen strides to the spot where a railing was rising from the deck around the black and yellow caution striped rectangle that marked the personnel elevator.  Gunn led the way as if he had done this many times before, which he had.

---

Sky Marshall Steven Portnoy paced the briefing room.  "What the hell is taking them so long?" he muttered.  His answer came in the form of an ensign who breathlessly burst into the room.  He caught himself just before he blurted his news out, and saluted.

"Sir, there's a problem at lift three!"

"Oh for the love of Pete."  Portnoy snatched his hat from the table, and firmly settled it on his head before making for the door.

He could hear the commotion as he strode the corridor.  An airman was trying to manage the situation without much success, "Please sir, just surrender the sidearm," he said.

"Absolutely not," came an unfamiliar voice.  That must be Dr. Mauser, Portnoy thought.  "Prisoners are disarmed, not guests.  Tommy, let's go back."

Portnoy stomped into the room, his sheer presence freezing the tableau.  "What in the Sam Hill is going on here?"

The airman snapped to attention.  "Our guest refuses to surrender his weapon, in accordance with standing orders, Sir."  The word guest carried more disdain than most people could slather on an obscenity.

"I might have been more inclined to if that goon hadn't tried to grab me." said Dr. Mauser, indicating the unconscious Sargent on the floor.  "Clearly this is not the hospitality I was led to expect."

Professor Gunn just hung his head, "I'm sorry Steven, this was a mistake."

Portnoy let out a sigh.  "My apologies, Doctor Mauser.  My crewmen take their orders very seriously, and given the current situation, security is on high.  There hasn't been time to brief them properly on your visit.  Please, if you'll come with me, I can promise there will be no further incidents."

Mauser unfolded his arms.  "Fine.  Lead on."

"And Saunders," the Marshall said to the Airman, "Get that man down to sickbay."

As he led his visitors down the corridor, back to the secure briefing room, he said to Mauser, "You have a hell of a way of introducing yourself."

"You don't live as long as I have in the business by being too trusting.  I'm only here because Professor Gunn told me it would be safe, but I have my doubts, and my greeting didn't exactly assuage them."

"You're a highly wanted man, Doctor Mauser.  My crew is hand-picked, but you can imagine that their years of experience makes certain training hard to overcome.  In here please."  Portnoy directed the men through the dual doors of the Tempest shielded briefing room.

"So what have you told them?"

"Officially, we're here to consult with you, and I justified the use of two carriers to insure your cooperation.  Unofficially, we're also here to protect you, given your new position."

"Obviously not all of your crew is privy to that information."

"Outside of this room, there are only two other individuals who know about my role in the council, and none who know about yours."

"Inside this room there are only two as well.  Tommy hasn't really briefed me at all about this secret society of yours.  When do I get my orientation packet?  And by the way, I don't do embarrassing initiations."

Gunn barely stifled an exasperated grumble.

Portnoy picked up the point.  "Given the crisis at hand, that will have to wait.  In some ways, the official story is correct.  Having been in the Guild, hopefully you can help us figure out what's going on.  P.A.T.R.I.O.T. has very limited intelligence..." Gunn poked Dr. Mauser to throw off the timing of the inevitable crack. "... on the Guild and their current plan."

"I'm assuming the Council has somewhat more intel than P.A.T.R.I.O.T."

"Naturally.  We have ways of feeding information into the system, but it is necessarily limited to help maintain the balance of power."

"That actually explains a lot, like how you guys always show up at the worst possible moment to foil a scheme.  Fortunately I'm cynical enough to not be surprised.  So, if I'm here to fill in the blanks, why don't you show me what you've got?"

"If you'll take a seat, I've actually got a presentation."  Portnoy was in his element.  The projector showed his opening slide with none of the typical computer chicanery most presentations require.  "At approximately oh seven hundred Zulu, NORAD detected a flight of missiles in low orbit, and after determining that their trajectory was not a direct threat to the country, they informed us.  Thirty minutes later, the flight impacted the Damocles Space Laser, as you both witnessed.  We haven't been able to trace the origin of the missiles, but this bold attack clearly is the latest move in the Guild's plan to co-opt or eliminate any possible opposition to their global domination strategy."

"Well, there's one blank I can fill in.  There's a low level Mad in the Spratley Archipelago, just west of the Philippines, Professor Vaughn Brown, who's big into rockets and missiles.  Last I heard of him, he was working on cheap liquid/solid hybrid fueled ICBM's that he planned to mass market.  He's the most likely candidate as the source.  The Guild easily could have bought up his entire production for this attack."

"That makes sense.  The South China Sea is outside our sphere of influence, and unfortunately, A.N.V.I.L. is incredibly tight-lipped about their area of operations.  They're barely up to the task, and they don't like to admit it."

Portnoy advanced the slide to a high resolution image of the Damocles.  "Amazingly, the Damocles managed to escape complete destruction, but was severely damaged.  Since we have been unable to contact Madame Woo, we have no idea about the functionality of the station or her situation.  Although we have been able to confirm that the orbit is still stable."

Mauser stood and leaned closer to the screen, scrutinizing the image.  "Could you enlarge this section here?"  After Portnoy did as he was asked, he said, "My, you folks really have some good optics up there.  As you know, the Damocles was based on my early work with microwave lasers, Masers as they were known at the time...."

"Actually, we knew no such thing...." interrupted Portnoy.

"Really?  If anyone could have told you that, it would have been the Professor."

Professor Gunn quickly defended himself, "You were Mad at the time.  Every Mad goes on at length about how his ideas have been stolen.  Was I to take you seriously then?"

"Point," said Mauser, "Nonetheless, Madame Woo based her system for the Damocles on my designs, but she stole them before I perfected my asymptotic charge pump.  To make it work, she needed huge capacitive storage batteries, like a rail gun.  I believe these were located in the arms of the station.  Depending on the other damage to the laser, she's either disabled completely, or operating at severely diminished capacity.  On the other hand, if you zoom back out... you can see she's still dragging the wire for her Thermospheric charging system, so she's still getting power, and it's probably helping to stabilize her even if her gyros and ion thrusters are damaged."

"You seem to know more about the Damocles systems than we've ever been able to get out of her in our conversations."

"Frankly, I'm surprised that you've had any contact with her at all, or I would have been before I learned about your cabal here.  But back when I was still selling artificially purified diamonds in Africa, she used to call me up from time to time in order to gloat.  She was a lot less guarded then.  In spite of her loathsome attitude, I think she regards me as one of the few who can understand what she's been through."

"I've heard that before."

"Well, yeah, it's a common introduction for a Monologue, but we do share a lot of history, some of which she even admits to."

Portnoy grimaced.  "I'm not sure I want to know."

"Moving on...." injected Professor Gunn.

"Yes, moving on," Portnoy said as he advanced the presentation.  "Our network has been tracking a number of other offenses against various Mads who have resisted the Guild's overtures, and those who have taken them up...."

---

Deep within the bowels of the Mesa, the lone figure exploring the darkened tunnels stopped at an intersection that seemed distinctly familiar.  It suddenly became apparent that some of the tunnels had been subtly sculpted to defy conventions like left hand or right hand wall following.  With three dimensions to work in, Avogadro had devised deftly devious diversions to confound and confuse the incautious.  The figure put down the valise and sat on it, and began to weep.

But after a few minutes, a clue revealed itself.  The thin trickle of water on the floor of the tunnel diverged down the path not taken before.  Where the water flowed should lead to a way out.  Flashlight and suitcase in hand, the figure dashed down the alternate tunnel, and towards possible freedom.

---

The medic finished making a notation on his terminal.  "Well Miss Infinity, the good news is it seems that you haven't managed to actually damage yourself.  Your body temperature is normal, and there's no sign of any injury.  The 'bad news' is that I'm taking you off of active duty for the next two days."  He handed her a small bottle of pills.  "Try to relax, but also keep moving so your muscles and joints don't tighten up.  These are prescription strength Ibuprofen.  Take one every four hours until you don't think you need them."

"Thank you," Mimi said, taking the pills and hopping off the exam table.

"Oh, and before you go around beating up any more two hundred and fifty pound Marines, you might want to work out a little more."  The Medic had been informed about her fight with Olaf, except for the part about it taking place in the blink of an eye.

Mimi smiled.  "Sure."

Isabel was leaning against the door-frame of the clinic waiting, as was Madeline in one of the chairs.

"So, how is our woozy Woo?" joked Isabel.

"I'm fine, the doctor just told me to relax and gave me some aspirin, or whatever," she said, glancing at the bottle.

"Well, you had us worried when you almost fell down on the way up here," Madeline said with almost motherly concern.  "You're sure you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, really, I'm fine.  Actually, I'm really really hungry.  Are they serving breakfast yet?"

---

"Seriously, they've even recruited Sumac?  That guy's poison, and irritating as hell.  They must have recruited every bio-weapons developer in the roster."  Dr. Mauser was stunned at the completeness of the report on Evil Scientists who had been brought under the Guild's control.

"Well, there are a few we've managed to protect and bring over to our side.  Eduardo Reyes, for example, is in our Silver Springs laboratory working on countermeasures for the TCRI Mutagen," said Portnoy.

Dr. Mauser thought for a second, "Eduardo Reyes...  Wait, you mean to tell me El Monstroso is still alive?"

"... and working for us.  Yes.  He'd been wanting to cross over for some time, but you know that's officially not possible.  The raid on his compound was carefully staged so that we could get him and his research, and his entire staff out in secret."

"Well, not his entire staff."

"He wasn't going to need his Angel of Death working for us.  We thought it would be better to leave her out on the board, so that the story would get out.  Then it occurred to us that she could be more useful to you, so we let her find out about your recruitment drive."

Mauser narrowed his eyes.  "Oh, she has been useful, but how many other plants have you put in my organization?"

"She's not a plant," interjected Professor Gunn, "She's another like you, talented, but forced by circumstance onto the Side of Evil.  She doesn't know about our influence in her career, but we thought it would be for the best if she ended up with someone like you, rather than say, The Shadow Squad."

"You almost make it sound like you think I'm secretly one of the good guys.  I'm not, and you'd do well to remember that."

Gunn was taken aback, "Paul, is that really a wise thing to be saying here and now?"

"I just want to make things perfectly clear.  Because it seems like you've gone to a lot of effort to put good people on the bad side, and now you've got yourselves a coalition of the Good, and the Not So Bad, and you're facing the remains, the hard-core Evil.  And it's a sham.  You don't nearly have the kind of control and influence over The Battle as you seem to think.  Sure, you've got resources, but your influence is limited to tiny nudges, and in spite of the sayings otherwise, you're not going to stop a hurricane with butterfly wings."

"No, we're not," said Portnoy, resignedly.  "But we're working on changing that.  The old plan, the one that dates back to the founding of The Code, depended on pitting Evil against itself to keep it in check.  In the age of petty rivalries and lone Mads, it was easy.  But in this age of instant communication and technology advancing at an exponential rate, beyond what even the most brilliant minds can encompass, alliances have gotten too big.  The last time things got this bad, we had to start World War Two to get things under control, but now, the world couldn't survive another fight like that.

"You've put your finger on the problem, Doctor Mauser.  We need you not because at the core you're good, but you're bad enough to make a difference.  You're the kind of bad we need.  You're not out to destroy the world..."

"Where would I keep my stuff?"

"... but these people are.  I know Evil has given you the freedom to live the way you want to live.  Well what we're fighting threatens not only our way of life, but yours.  We have to stop pussyfooting around and break the Guild.  And we need your help to do it."

"I seem to recall 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' was a Muslim philosophy.  I thought they'd fallen a little out of favor recently.  But I see your point.  There's a reason I quit the Guild.  It wasn't just the money, but they were trying to direct me, and I don't go for that.  My total, unrestricted freedom is important to me.  If helping you will advance that, then I'll consider it.

"Now where's the head in this place?"

Portnoy sighed, "There's a Bosun's Mate outside the door who can take you there.  But come directly back."

After Mauser left the room, Portnoy turned to Professor Gunn, "Tommy, what the hell brought that on?"

"Don't worry Steven, it's all bluster.  He's on board, he just needs to feel that it's all his own idea."

"You're still sure you know him that well?  We can trust him?"

"He didn't kill Agent Henderson.  I think that says a lot about the kind of man he still is."

"Perhaps, but after what he put her through, you have to wonder if letting her live was really a kindness."

"I have total confidence in him."

"Okay Tommy, this is your project.  As long as you can keep him directed, we won't pull the plug on him.  But if he figures it out, it could ruin everything."

---

Disclaimer

While the Author appreciates the products of Forjas Taurus S/A of Brazil and the late Star Bonifacio Echeverria, S.A. of Spain, Heckler & Koch GmbH and the original Waffenfabrik Mauser AG of Germany, none of these  companies to my knowledge endorses the use of their products by Evil organizations or mad scientists.

Guild of Calamitous Intent (GCI) created by Jackson Publick (a pseudonym of Christopher McCulloch) for Cartoon Network/Adult Swim.

The "Forces of Justice (tm)" P.A.T.R.I.O.T., S.A.B.R.E., H.A.M.M.E.R., A.N.V.I.L, and S.M.A.S.H. are from the PC Game Evil Genius, originally by Sierra and now owned by some company that is completely neglecting this brilliant property.

All other characters, including but not limited to Dr. Mauser, Wanda, Isabel and Madeline, and "Infinity"/Mimi Woo belong to Richard Alan Chandler (mauser712.deviantart.com/)  Dr. Mauser is NOT me, even if he bears a superficial resemblance and uses my nick.  I have no desire to do some of the things he did.  Other things....

Any references I've missed belong to whomever they belong to.