The Peace Ray was the key to assuring America's safety in the dangerous new world.
Or so they had said in 1920 when they'd built the damn things, but over time, thousands of soldiers had turned into hundreds, and then into two understaffed platoons. Hundreds of technicians had turned into a skeleton crew of thirty. Budget cuts had taken away all but ten of their blimps. Half of those were in the shop, and the rest were expected to watch the coast from Canada to Mexico.
Their gas masks hadn't been pulled out in years. The private wasn't even sure where his was. The Army budget had been so deeply cut over the last three years that he wasn't even sure if they had gas masks at all for the new guys. The power plants had mostly been diverted to feed the growing metropolis of San Francisco, and the last he'd heard from one of the techs, they were running at maybe fifteen percent of maximum power, but that wasn't supposed to matter, because nobody knew that, and as long as the Peace Ray rose over the coast like a deadly futuristic sentinel, it would do its job as a deterrent, or at least that's what the brass figured.
Guarding a Peace Ray was a crap job, but at least he had a job, the private thought ruefully, which was more than he could say for a lot of folks he knew. Times were tough, so three square meals and a bed in a barracks wasn't that bad of a deal if you thought about it, but one-thirty in the morning was a lousy time to be thinking about it.
There was a tinkle of breaking glass and a grunt. He turned, expecting to see that one of his buddies had dropped their coffee mug, ready to give them some grief about the mess, but he paused, realizing that the spreading stain on the floor was too red to be coffee. Somebody was moving around his friends, who had all put their heads down on the table. 'Who are you?' Then the stranger dressed in funny black pajamas and a mask came across the guard shack with a flash of steel and separated the private's head cleanly from his neck. Mar Pacifica, California Something's wrong…
Faye woke up with a start. She was breathing hard, sweating, and had kicked her blankets onto the floor. The house creaked a bit, as the wind from the ocean was strong tonight, but other than that, it was quiet. Everything looked normal. The room was dark, but she'd never had a problem seeing better than most folks at night. She'd always figured it was because of her grey eyes.
Something ain't right. She knew to pay attention to her instincts. It was like when she Traveled. If she paid attention how she was supposed to, she just somehow knew when things were gonna be dangerous in the space she was about to fill. Faye got out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants under her baggy nightshirt. Some folks might think pants on a girl were scandalous, but frankly, she didn't care what people thought, and if you were going to go sneaking around because something bad was in the air, pants made more sense.
She didn't bother with shoes, as her soles were like saddle leather, but she did pick up the big.45 automatic that Mr. Browning had given her. He said that next time she needed to shoot somebody, this one would put a proper hole in them. Francis had told her that it was probably too powerful for a girl, but she'd been milking cows, and had a stronger grip than the city boy did, so what did he know?
The hallway was quiet. She padded down the thick carpet of the second floor balcony. There was nothing moving in the space below or on the stairs.
She used her Power to check her surroundings. Having had a lot of practice recently, she'd gotten even better at scouting before a jump, so good in fact, that it was like she could see everything in a big circle around her, not with her eyes, but inside her brain. The area around her had always been like a map in her head, and when she picked a spot to Travel into, she could focus more on that space, but she'd been Traveling so much lately, that she'd discovered that her head map had gotten bigger and clearer. It was almost like her thoughts could Travel on their own, and she didn't even need to send her body to see what was going on. A big book Mr. Browning had, written by a Dr. Fort, had called her Power by the name of Teleportation, but even it hadn't mentioned anything about being able to have a magic map in her head.
Faye checked her head map. It used to only stretch for about fifty feet in a circle wherever she was standing, but with practice, it now seemed to go about double that. It didn't have a lot of detail, so she didn't feel like she was invading anyone's privacy, and besides, something was fishy tonight besides the ocean. Mr. Sullivan's room was next to hers, but it was empty. Next was Delilah's room, and she was surprised to find that both of them were asleep in the same bed. That was a little shocking to her since they weren't married folk, so she kept going. She liked Delilah and just hoped Mr. Sullivan would make her happy.
Nobody was moving on the second floor, so she decided to Travel downstairs. Grandpa had always warned her not to Travel into a spot where she couldn't see with her own eyes, but she'd been breaking a bunch of his rules lately. She appeared in the fancy dining room. There was something in the shadows behind the piano, but it turned out to just be a curtain moving a little in the breeze from an open window.
The map in her head didn't show anything weird. Even the servants were perfectly still, sleeping standing up in their bare quarters. She didn't know what they were, they sure as heck weren't people, but darn if they couldn't fix a mighty fine sandwich. Then at the very edge of her map, something twitched. She checked the spot in the living room, clear, and Traveled.
Her bare feet appeared an inch off the carpet, and she landed with the lightest thump. In the dark ahead of her was a shape, dressed entirely in black, crouched low, doing something to the magic carvings on the wood around the big glass windows. There was a scratching noise as the visitor flicked a knife back and forth.
Her first inclination was to just take Mr. Browning's.45 and shoot the stranger in the back of the head, but she'd promised Lance that she'd try extra hard not to kill anybody else by accident, and she was afraid that this might just be another Grimnoir that she didn't know. Lance had said that there were hundreds of them. 'Can I help you?' Faye asked politely.
The person's head whipped around. He was wearing a black mask under a hood. A pair of grey eyes seemed to glow in the dark, then they just disappeared.
Traveler!
Faye felt the air behind her move and she reacted on instinct, Traveling. She could almost feel the knife drive through the space she'd just occupied. She landed on the other side of the couch. The stranger's hand snapped through the air and Faye jerked to the side just as something metal passed her face. A four sided metal razor embedded into the wall with a thunk. 'Hey!' Faye shouted, then she disappeared just as the stranger threw another razor at her.
She landed on the second floor. She'd never been in Lance's room before and almost managed to impale herself on the antlers from a stuffed elk. 'Lance! Lance! Wake up!'
'Huh?' Lance immediately sat up in bed, his hand flying to a holstered revolver hanging from the bed post. 'Faye?'
'There's a Traveler and he's trying to kill-' Her instincts warned her that something was coming and she threw herself back just as the stranger appeared, swinging a knife for her throat.
There was a terrible bloom of fire and the man crashed back into the wall. 'Damn ninjas!' Lance bellowed as he fired five more rounds in rapid succession. Faye covered her ears. The stranger was still sliding down, leaving a trail of blood on the wallpaper as Lance sprang out of bed and turned on the electric lamp.
'You hurt?' he shouted as he dropped the empty revolver and picked up a lever-action rifle from the bedside. 'I hate damn ninjas.' He worked the action. Faye realized that he was as hairy as the animals he controlled and buck naked to boot. She shrieked, pointing. Lance looked down, swore again, and covered himself with the rifle butt. 'I sleep like this. Old camping habit… Never mind. Hell. Go get Browning,' he ordered.
Faye Traveled to Browning's room and froze as the old man sat up in bed, aimed a shotgun right at her face, and pumped a round into the chamber. Faye screamed and Traveled off to the side. 'It's me!'
'I near blasted you, young lady.' Browning admonished as he lowered the shotgun. 'Who's shooting? What's going on?'
The Grimnoir sure did wake up fast. At least he was wearing pajamas. 'There was a Traveler, and he tried to stab me, but Lance shot him a bunch, and said he was a damn ninja!'
Browning just nodded, placed the shotgun on the bed beside him, did something with his Grimnoir ring, made a fist with his ring hand, and slammed it jarringly hard into his palm. 'We are under attack,' he said.
WE ARE UNDER ATTACK.
