The Phoenix Fallacy_Book II_Norm Read online

  The Phoenix Fallacy

  Book II

  Jonathan Sourbeer

  Copyright © Jonathan Sourbeer 2013

  For Janelle:

  Once the little sister who never listened, now the woman who’s always willing to lend an ear.

  The Phoenix Fallacy

  Is comprised of three books:

  Janus, Norm, and Magnus

  And is also known as:

  The Cog

  Contents

  Book 2: Norm

  Chapter 1: Ghosts, Dancing

  Chapter 2: The Mint

  Chapter 3: The Flash of Lightning

  Chapter 4: Gathering Thunder

  Chapter 5: The Garden

  Chapter 6: The Arena

  Chapter 7: Brigg’s Ball

  Chapter 8: Victors and Villains

  Chapter 9: Punishments

  Chapter 10: To Lightemann’s

  Chapter 11: Alastor

  Chapter 12: Into the Depths

  Chapter 13: The Man in the Painting

  Chapter 14: Where Secrets Hide

  Chapter 15: Unwelcome Guests

  Chapter 16: Magnus

  Chapter 17: Out of the Dark

  Chapter 18: Plans and Plots

  Chapter 19: Cryochambers

  Chapter 20: To Cerberus…

  Chapter 21: Home

  Chapter 22: The Locket

  Chapter 23: Styx

  Chapter 24: The Burden of Wisdom

  Chapter 25: The Forges of Cerberus

  Chapter 26: The World Above

  Chapter 27: Middleton’s Triumph

  Chapter 28: The Forgotten

  Chapter 29: …And Back

  Chapter 30: Old Acquaintances

  Chapter 31: The Beginning of the End

  Chapter 32: The Phoenix’s Tears

  Chapter 33: Sacrifices Made

  Chapter 34: A Call to Arms

  Chapter 35: Lost Loves

  Appendices – Guides for new Corporate Intendants

  Appendix I – Corporate and Adept hierarchies

  Appendix II – Corporations of the world

  Appendix III – Legions of the World

  Appendix IV – Brigg’s Ball – A Detailed Ruleset

  Appendix V – Important Individuals – As Reported By Corporate Intelligence

  A Thank You To My Readers

  – Book II –

  Norm

  Overlord –

  As you commanded, I assigned most of our Inferni to oversee construction of the new facility. To make up for the loss of manpower, we have begun using the local gangs to enforce our will. I believe that we have discovered a new model for policing the slums, and it appears that other Overlords are rapidly following suit. These “gang rats” as they are dubbed, will also serve as excellent tools for rounding up the population you desire. As the more capable rats prove their worth and loyalty, I will have them trained as S.T.s and moved to our new location. I have left a platoon of my finest Inferni for your protection.

  Transmission received from Commandant Novus Martel

  Location Undisclosed

  2316-07-28.2318

  -- Recovered from the files of Overlord Victoria Middleton, Cerberus Corporation

  Chapter 1: Ghosts, Dancing

  Janus awoke to the dark. His room was quiet, and the city of Valhalla was silent with it. Only a few days had passed since he, Celes, and Sergeant Wouris returned safely from the ruins of Phoenix Corporation.

  As a wall panel slid open to reveal his armor, he reflected on the blur that had been the last week. The Titan outpost he and the ODIN Mercenary Legion had been contracted to strike had proved to be an elaborate trap. Now, with only a few snatches of a conversation to go on, Valhalla, the mobile home base of the ODIN Legion, was headed toward a distant mountain range known as Lightemann’s ridge.

  A new Loki pistol popped out in a drawer beside him. He had lost the last one in the battle that had cost him so many of his fellow friends and Adepts. After giving the weapon a once over, Janus strapped it on and headed out the door.

  The great windows of the hall were black, the pre-dawn light drowning out the stars, but leaving the horizon dark. The Legion had to navigate on its own now, hunting for answers.

  His mind was a jumble as he jogged silently across the Great Hall in the middle of Valhalla. The Great Hall was a massive open atrium that surrounded a towering central column called the Trunk. So named because it looked like a massive stone tree sprouting in the middle of the city, the Trunk acted as the central way station for all the areas of Valhalla, its many branches connecting to every section. The stream surrounding it flowed silently in the dawn. Other than the night watch, most of Valhalla was still asleep, and Janus appreciated the early morning solitude. It reminded him of his original home, the slums of Cerberus, when the hot air grew still, and he and Clara could hear every noise for a mile.

  When he reached the entrance to the mess, Janus turned to stare at the great seal of ODIN. The giant stained glass window, with the God Odin, his spear in hand and astride his warhorse, was a deep blood red in the dark. ODIN had more than a few scores to settle.

  Sometime after his breakfast, the day dawned bright and clear, seabirds wheeling lazily upon the warm updrafts rising along the outside of Valhalla as it glided over the ocean. Valhalla was already abuzz with activity. Anticipation inside the city was high, the Adepts eager to prove themselves after the stunning losses of just a few weeks ago.

  The Praetor had summoned the surviving members of Wouris’ cadets to instruct the newly minted Adepts. Leader of the ODIN Legion, the Praetor was well-respected for his wisdom and battle-prowess. Somewhat mysteriously, he had taken a shine to Janus, despite their rocky first meeting.

  Most of the Adepts were already assembled in the Chariot of Voyages, the primary launch bay from Valhalla for all of its missions. Although Valhalla was a flying Avalon class fortress, capable of reaching any continent or ocean, the Adepts of ODIN hardly wanted to put it directly in harm’s way. It was slow and vulnerable in many ways, and incapable of surmounting especially high mountains. Most of the time, the Adepts flew to their targets in their Longboat transports.

  As Janus joined the waiting Adepts, the sea breeze rushed between the open doors of the bay and swept along the line. The bright sun shone upon the hard metal floor at the edge of the bay, and Janus was glad to be standing in the shade. He felt more comfortable in the dark, and it was where Adepts did their best work. A single Zeus rifle had been mounted on a turret just a short distance from where they stood, pointed out over the open ocean, where large gentle green swells rolled beneath them.

  “Mind if I cut in?”

  Janus smiled, and stepped to the side without looking back. Celes jumped into the line next to him. “The others are on their way. We didn’t see you at breakfast this morning.”

  Janus stole a glance at his companion. Her hair held a golden shine, like she was standing in the sun, and Janus shrugged, “Ate early.”

  Celes flashed a beautiful smile, “We missed you. Ramirez didn’t have anyone to support him when Lyn started telling jokes and he didn’t laugh.”

  “Bet that didn’t go over too well,” Janus shook his head knowingly.

  A new voice joined in, “You got that right.” Janus turned to see Lyn with a devilish grin on her face. A few of the other nearby Adepts chuckled as she moved herself into line next to Celes. Ramirez and Marcus appeared next to Janus.

  “Ramirez.”

  The massive, brown-haired heavy-gunner glanced down at Janus and nodded. “Heard you had a rough morning.” Ramirez returned his gaze forward, and nodded.

  Marcus laughed, his black eyes shining.
“That’s an understatement. He needed you Janus.”

  “And why didn’t you help him, Marcus?” Janus prodded.

  Marcus smiled confidently, “Because I know Lyn, and I’m not an idiot.” He paused, “That reminds me – I think someone still wanted a rematch.”

  Janus smirked, “Don’t forget who won you that game.”

  “That’s right, I did—”

  “Praetor on deck!” Sergeant Wouris appeared like lightning, and the Adepts snapped to attention. Praetor Jennings approached, his grey hair and handlebar mustache as trim as ever. He wore simple black armor with only two golden ODIN horsemen upon his neck.

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” The Praetor took a moment to inspect them, tilting his head approvingly at Wouris, but he stopped at the sight of Janus. “Lieutenant Janus.”

  Janus stepped forward, “Sir.”

  “Please join the other officers.”

  Janus glanced down the line and saw Col. Keats and Col. Hawkes standing off to one side. The unpleasant expression on Col. Hawkes did not surprise Janus in the least, but Colonel Keats’ disturbingly worried look gave him pause. A cadre of combat medics stood ready behind them. “Yes, sir.” With a last look at his companions, Janus jogged quickly to stand next to Keats and Hawkes.

  The Praetor smiled, “You all performed admirably during the battle, fighting well against overwhelming odds. We suffered terrible losses at the hands of Titan only a few days ago. Many friends fell in battle. More than a few of you still have raw feelings about the experience, and there has been little time to heal. However, our time is short, and training is never over. We are about to embark on a mission that offers no payment other than the solace of bringing peace to our friends. But our options are limited, and we have little choice – this travesty suggests a plot against us that we cannot ignore. Our only clue is that Cerberus Corporation might be involved, including our old friend Overlord Middleton.”

  The name of the gaudily outfitted Overlord brought the taste of bile to Janus’ mouth. Middleton had sold him to ODIN, forcing him to abandon his adoptive mother Clara, and leaving her to fend for herself. Praetor Jennings had secured her care from Middleton in exchange for his service, but Janus trusted Middleton about as far he could throw her. Which wasn’t very far, given her massive girth. As long as he was here, Janus would be forced to wonder if Clara was still safe.

  “Our only other clue is a man named Delacroix and a mountain range called Lightemann’s ridge. Lightemann’s ridge is a well-known range to our East, and at this moment, Valhalla is already on a course to put us within deployment range in the next few days. In the meantime, I expect you to train and prepare yourselves for the reality of another mission. We’re getting back out there – we’re going to make sure what happened at Titan doesn’t happen again.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Janus could see Keats shift uncomfortably.

  The Praetor paused, and stole a glance at the turret facing out over the open platform and ocean.

  “As soldiers, you have trained for many months and had your physical limits pushed far beyond the average human. It is time to realize that, as Adepts, you can push your mental limits farther, as well. Are you ready, Colonel?”

  “Yes, sir… However, I would like it noted that I am actively protesting this demonstration,” Keats’ voice quivered slightly, “there is an excellent reason why we decided to stop this form of testing, and now is not the time to resume.”

  Jennings looked back at Keats with a smile, “Noted, Colonel.” He paced purposefully along the line of Adepts, “As all of you are aware, a Zeus rifle is an infinitely superior weapon to the electro-thermal rifles we use. It has immensely greater range and accuracy, and can hold much larger stores of ammo. Plus, with no moving parts, maintenance is kept to a minimum. It has a unique ‘disadvantage’, however: As a semi-automatic weapon that is so incredibly accurate, it depends solely upon its user to hit a target. No spray and pray, as they say.’

  “Even the best Security Trooper, despite all the advantages of his suit, is still limited by two factors: how fast that Trooper can find his or her target and fire, and how fast the suit can react. Every suit of S.T. armor has this same limitation, despite all of its strengths. The armor does not react at the speed of the trooper, but at the speed of its inputs – the legs and arms of the man inside. This moment between the man moving, and the suit reacting – that moment of slow acceleration – is inconsequential for most. But for an Adept, it provides the opportunity to change the very course of battle.’

  “The technique I’m about to show you is known as ‘Ghost Dancing’. It is named in honor of the SHADE Legion, and was one of the principal reasons for its fame and success many years ago. This technique is very difficult, and very rare, even among Adepts. It is also one of the reasons that Troopers fear us.”

  He motioned to the turret behind him, “The turret that Col. Keats has so kindly modified is designed to mimic the limitations a S.T. suit provides on flexibility and maneuverability. Its objective is to try to hit me.”

  Janus felt a jolt of excitement run along his spine.

  “If you recall,” the Praetor continued, “I told you that your abilities go far beyond what the Corporations have allowed you to think. You will learn that your faster reactions allow you to always stay a step ahead of an opponent. It is up to you to master this advantage.’

  “Be warned, this technique is not for the faint-hearted, nor is it something for the foolishly bold. It is a technique of last resort; which is why we do not even introduce it to cadets, and why we rarely allow even the best to practice it.” The Praetor stopped rigidly in front of the turret, the Zeus rifle’s long, rectangular nose pointed out behind him towards the green sea.

  “Some of you may eventually perfect this technique so that a single S.T. will never pose a threat to you. Many of you will never master it. And a rare few – a very rare few, indeed – will be able to face more than one opponent at a time. But only in the direst circumstances,” he smiled and took a few steps back, “Colonel.” Keats hesitated, and the Praetor’s eyes flashed.

  Keats moved behind the turret, and the platform became deathly still. The Praetor closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Hawkes looked as if he had been forced to swallow slum garbage.

  The Zeus sprang to life as the Praetor opened his eyes, and he leapt away in an elaborate dance: twisting, jumping, sprinting all around the platform as the hapless “Trooper” turret tried to keep up. The Adepts gasped. The Praetor wasn’t just fast – he was incredible. Despite his age, the Praetor’s speed was far beyond anything they had seen before. But the turret’s AI seemed to be learning, anticipating the Praetor’s movements – snapping forward to hit the Praetor where he would land, but to no avail.

  “He’s a dancing blur,” Jones commented in awe.

  But Janus could see it was far more than that; the Praetor constantly remained rooted to the ground; one limb always touching, ready to spring him forward in any one of several directions.

  “Look how he moves; he always has the ability to move in a new direction,” Marcus exclaimed.

  “Very good, Mercenary Auras,” Keats said with forced calmness. “Ghost Dancing requires total body control, always maintaining contact with a surface so that an instantaneous change of direction can be achieved.”

  Walls sprang up from the floor. At first, Janus thought they would trap the Praetor, but they only seemed to give him more options, more ways to connect himself to a solid surface and escape the deadly hail. The walls moved closer, narrowing the field and giving the Praetor less room to maneuver. But all the while, the Praetor moved closer to the turret, staying just ahead of the barrel as it snapped into position to fire at him.

  “Praetor, here!” Hawkes called out, unsheathing the Praetor’s Ghostblade and flinging it towards him with a momentous effort. The Praetor leaped forward, catching the blade in midair and whipping it around in a tremendous downward cleave. The turret hardly seemed to mov
e as the weapon passed through it, but the Praetor kept sweeping by, raining blows upon it. A moment later, the turret simply fell apart, leaving the base broken and unmoving. The Praetor stood slowly, smiling; the smoking ruin behind him.

  Hawkes grunted to the gaping Adepts, “That’s why he’s the Praetor.”

  Chapter 2: The Mint

  The scouting ships left Valhalla early the next morning. Lightemann’s Ridge was a large mountain range, and discovering the Cerberus outpost would be no easy task. Praetor Jennings hoped that the flurry of activity Janus, Wouris, and Celes had discovered in the Phoenix ruins would translate into something that would give them a lead at Lightemann’s. He called a council of war to give the preliminary plans for dealing with the outpost.

  The Praetor’s voice boomed out over the mess hall where all of ODIN had assembled. “This is a deeply personal mission for all of us, and I understand that many of you are eager to participate,” he began. The anticipation buzzed around Janus.

  “Adepts specialize in stealth, subterfuge, and silence. This time, we will fight our way.” Cries of agreement sounded throughout the mess. “We will slip in and slip out without alerting the Cerberus forces to our presence.” Dismayed whispers sounded here and there, but these were quickly silenced as the Praetor continued. “Many of you wish to take this opportunity to strike back, to make Cerberus pay for our brothers and sisters.” Cries of ‘hear, hear’ sounded.