Cedar.  The smell hung in the air.  I closed my eyes and leaned
back, inhaling slowly and deeply, and for a moment the world was composed
entirely of primitive nonvisual senses, an association-filled volume shaped
by sounds and surrounded by smell.  Boy Scout summer camps, autumns in
college - the essence of the Texas Hill Country permeated me.
	I reopened my eyes as a car drove by on the highway and anchored me
in the present again.  Spread before me in the night were the lights of the
city.  Rising above them were the rotunda of the State Capitol, a few
taller buildings aspiring to the title 'skyscaper' around the business
area, and the university Tower.  Between me and all of these things ran an
artery of energy, the Interstate feeding the city flows of light.
	I had stopped on one of the final hills west of the city, there
being few landing places in Austin for a guy in a mecha.  I wanted to take
a breather and spend a quiet span of time considering what I was to do.
For there was one problem remaining - in this city of hundereds of
thousands of people, where was the Element?
	The resolution of the data we had appropriated from the previously
unknown Purple Forces base had been sufficient that I knew it was somewhere
in the middle of the town, not on the outskirts - but beyond that I knew
nothing.  It could take me weeks to search that whole area thoroughly
enough, and it would be easy to miss something.  I needed help.
	Fortunately, there were some options.  I might get lucky and the
sponges or their leader would do something obvious about its location, but
this was not something to count on.  A anti-B'harnii group named T.A.L.O.N.
was rumored to be locally-based and have some skill with the arcane, which
might aid me in a search.  Problem was, they were said not to like the
Jihad much, or any users of technology for that matter.  There was the
possibility of building a sensor, which would expand my range and cut my
search time considerably, but darn if I knew how one might be made.  As a
last resort, there were the Austin police, who might help if I could
present sufficient evidence, though I was reluctant to recruit civilian
help.  The State Legislature was in special session, I knew, though not for
what...  I toyed with the idea for a moment and discarded it.  It was
unlikely I could get to anyone with sufficient authority to call out a
number of searchers.
	I took a last look at the Capitol and prepared to go down into the
city to find a place to stay for the duration.  Just then, though, a
thought struck me.  It was preposterous... at least it was unlikely... you
know, it was the kind of thing someone with the gall of a Wyrm-minion or
the stupidity of a sponge just might do.  The State Capitol had a huge
basement, a complicated extension, and any number of areas closed off to
the public or even to most people for all kinds of reasons.  The fourth
floor of the Rotunda was almost completely vacant.  If someone hid an Array
Element in there, it could easily go unnoticed until whatever time the
Generator was started up, without even having to defend the area noticeably.
	My idea of looking for someplace defensible or isolated went on the
back burner.  I didn't often have hunches, and I virtually never acted on
them impulsively, but in this case I had reasoning as well as a secondary
goal that could be achieved - getting the attention of someone who might be
able to help me.
	I started up the cycle and headed for the city.

(Shortly after daybreak, next day)

	The hostel had been reasonably priced and sufficiently comfortable.
Breakfast was a McDonald's near the UT campus.  After a shower, I traded
the casuals for formal.  The little ritual of putting on a military uniform
helped me to focus.  Item after item that might be useful went into the
pockets.  The jacket buttoned up as if on its own, posture straightening by
the button.  Noting that if I did encounter an Element there might well be
danger, I attached the scabbard to the right side of my belt and holstered
my MathAttackicus pistol on the left.  Thus girded, I went to my state
Capitol.
	As I walked in the front doors, I realized that it might be more
difficult than I had planned to speak to even my district representative.
People were everywhere, crowding the halls of the usually dignifiedly quiet
building.  More unusually, security guards were checking people for
weapons.  My Jihaddi uniform might get me onto the floor before a session
began, hopefully to speak with someone, but not carrying weapons.  As I
approached the checkpoint, I slowed.
	An MP stepped forward and held up his hand.  "You'll have to leave
your weapons behind before entering the Senate floor."
	"Of course.  Do you have a secure locker?"
	"They'll be kept safely.  Over there, sir."
	I entered the indicated enclave in back of the Security station.
In it was a group of lockers and a desk housing a Sergeant.  He looked up,
looked me over, frowned, and produced a pen and a form.
	"Name?"
	"Surname, Keith.  First name, William.  Initial, J."
	"Largest weapon you'll be registering?"
	"Staff."
	"Full-size locker #8."  He walked over to it and produced a key.
"Your weapons?"
	I handed him the staff first, then the sword.  He looked it over
and said, "This isn't a proper serial number."
	"Special series 12A, National Registry.  Contact the Jihad for
verification."
	He looked disgusted and noted the number on the form, then shoved
the blade in the locker.
	"Hey, watch it with that!"
	"Why?  Fragile?"  He practically snickered.
	I remained calm.  "Anything lasts longer if treated properly."
	"Next weapon."
	I detached the holster of the MathAttackicus.  He grabbed it, but I
held on a moment, saying, "Be a little more careful with this one."  I let
go.
	He looked it over for a serial number, saw the plate.
	"Ezekiel 18:23?"
	I'd added it after seeing the plates on the Wildmon some folks had,
but didn't bother to tell him that.  "Look it up."
	I presumed the following barely audible mutters of "Jihad", "Bible
freaks", and "fanatics" were meant for me to hear, so I of course ignored
them.  He copied the serial number and - gently - placed it in the closet.
"Anything else?"
	"One folding pocketknife, less than 5 and a half inches."  I
indicated the sheath.  "One spare clip for the gun.  Registered as lethal
weapon with Jihad in several paranormal disciplines."
	He slammed the locker door.  "I'm not even going to bother with the
magic fakery you people claim, and you can keep your clip.  Sign here."  He
reversed the form and didn't bother handing me a pen.  I stood unmoving and
wasted a low-level working to very precisely burn my signature into the
page.  He paled and signaled that I should get out.
	I was pleased to note that his colleagues were amused at my
response, which showed that they didn't particularly care for his attitude.
Glad it wasn't common.  I left the pocketknife, clip, change, and keys in
the dish, but the metal detector still signaled as I went through.  I
stepped back, thought a moment, and removed Kit, then passed through
without further trouble.
	One of the guards was curious at the appearing/disappearing
coronet.  "What is that thing, man?"
	"Sort of a transceiver antenna.  Also a friend."  He looked
confused, but I had to get going, so I just shrugged it off.
"Complicated."  I gave him a friendly nod, which was returned, as I set off.
	The House floor was a more controlled version of the chaos outside.
Pages ran every which way.  Knots of lawmakers stood discussing various
issues at differeing volumes and levels of politeness.  The floor sergeant
addressed me.  "Whom do you seek, sir?"
	"Representative Littleton, please."
	"Whom shall the page say is calling?"
	"A constituent.  Also a Jihaddi, Lieutenant Commander William J.
Keith of TRES Corps, with news that begs the attention of an authority."
	"Very good, sir."  He summoned a page, who was dispatched with the
information under a letterhead.  After a minute, the page returned and said
that Representative Littleton was available and would I please follow him?
We wove our way through the throng until we were faced with a middle aged businessman who gave me a warm smile and a politician's handshake.	"Mr. Keith,
what can I do for you?"
	"May we speak in private, sir?"
	"Well, session's going to begin in a few minutes...  if you'd like
to leave something at my office, unless it's urgent, I- "
	I lowered my voice.  "I have reason to believe the Capitol grounds
or building  may have been compromised."  I presented a printout of the
Hill Country portion of the Array Element map.  "If you'll observe the city
of Austin, you'll note that the Capitol building is within the possible
locations for the threatened device."
	He went several shades paler and lost the bright demeanor.  "I see.
This is a bomb threat?"
	"No sir, although it's considerably likely that the people that put
it there mean harm to the Legislature as a body and are almost certainly
armed.  I must stress, the Capitol is only one possible location, but it's
a probable one."
	"I understand.  Let me put you in touch with Security."  He turned
and raised his voice.  "Sergeant?"  He beckoned the man over.
	I noticed that several of the Representatives looked our way when
Littleton called out.  Most looked away again quickly, but a few lingered
to take in my uniform.  One woman smiled and returned to her conversation;
one older, heavyset man frowned sharply and gave Bailey a hard look.
	Littleton sent me off with the sergeant, who shuffled me like a
package into the presence of a besuited man who acknowledged him and bade
him back to his post.  I laid the situation out for him, and was relieved
to see he took the threat seriously.  He was also professional enough to
ask several questions, such as the size of the Element, which eliminated a
large amount of the work of searching the Capitol top to bottom.  He agreed
that Rotunda Fourth was a likely place.  In a twinkling I had a detachment
of twelve reserve guards at my disposal.
	I looked them over.  I'd never had command of troops before, being
primarily Research and Arcane.  However, they looked as if they knew their
jobs, so I decided to simply state the situation; they should know what
needed to be done.
	"Here's the situation.  There is a device -" I described the
Element - "which is designed to... well, that's irrelevant.  Suffice it to
say that it's not designed to be explosive, but if mishandled roughly can
explode with the force of a grenade, so be careful if you find it.  It may
be hidden in the Capitol, and if so it may be attended by a detachment of
soldiers -" 'spongies' might evoke a reaction I didn't want - "who are
armed and ready to shoot.  Anybody wearing a purple-and-green uniform is a
probable target, but wait to engage until backup arrives or you are fired
upon.  We're to find out whether it's here and neutralize it if it is.  I'm
the specialist if it comes to neutralizing it.  Everything clear?"
	A chorus of "Ayes" and "Yes, sirs."
	"All right.  Give me three men and we'll start on the Rotunda,
fourth floor.  The rest of you divide up in groups no smaller than two."
	I turned my head to look over the men, signifying the end, and one
clean-cut young man on the left chose two and ordered the rest to disperse
to a search pattern, with the addendum, "Keep it quiet - a crowd's panic is
an enemy.  No one's being threatened yet."  He turned to me.  "Ready, sir."
	"Let's go."
	We took the stairs to the top of the Rotunda, the last floor
needing to be specially opened, since it's off limits to the public.  Old
rooms alternated with open spaces and shafts of sunlight as we spiralled
down the Rotunda, swiftly but closely searching every space large enough to
hide an Element.  The uniforms drew some glances from most passersby, but
no one started up a cry.
	When we reached the ground floor, we met the rest of the
detachment.  The others silently shook their heads.  I hung mine for a
moment, but knew that I had to  continue the search elsewhere.
	I met back with the chief of Security, now talking with
Representative Littleton.  "No sir," the chief said, "It doesn't look like
we'll need to evacuate.  It was never a bomb to begin with, and the search
teams didn't find anything."
	I spoke up.  "Sir, although it wasn't in the Capitol building, that
doesn't mean it's beyond affecting the Capitol or indeed the entire city.
That Element needs to be found, and it's going to be hard going at the very
least for one man alone."
	"But you'd have to search...  Where's that map again?"  I produced
it.  "This covers over a square mile of city.  And to be honest, Mr. Keith,
I'm having trouble believing it's really there.  What did you say it was to
do?"
	I mentally sighed.  "It is intended to warp the perceptions and
judgmental capacity of anyone within its reach.  Depending on the power fed
it, that could be hundreds of miles."
	"And how, exactly?"
	"I'm not familiar with its exact operational system, but I could
elucidate the general principles -"
	"No, that won't be necessary.  Perhaps you should find some other
way of locating this device.  I think it's best that you leave the Capitol
building now, Mr. Keith."
	"Yes, sir."
	"I'll escort him."  The Security chief was the one who had spoken.
	"You do that."  Littleton walked off, and the detachment returned
to its post.
	"This way, son."  We were headed for the exit for some time before
he spoke again.  "Listen, I know about the Purple Demon and sponges and all
that.  I'm not the type to join the Jihad, I've got a job here, but I know
that what you do is for real.  Just because this thing isn't here doesn't
mean it's not in the city.  I've got some friends - Texas Rangers.  They'll
help you keep an eye out, O.K.?"
	"Thank you.  I don't know the timetable for activation-"
	"Don't worry about that.  They'll keep their eyes peeled and
they'll know what they're looking for.  Sponges?"
	"Yes."
	He nodded.  We were at the door, so he returned my weapons and
said, "They'll contact you," and left.

	I wasn't about to turn over the search to waiting for anyone else,
Rangers or not.  I'd had another idea, but the ethics were bothering me.
	*Kit?*
	*Yes?*
	*You were able to sense that Zaphyre was not human in a very brief
contact.*
	*Yes...*
	*Would you be able to tell a sponge if you were scanning a large
number of people?*
	*Depends on how deep and the contact time.  Delta-E times delta-t
is a constant, you know.*
	*I understand.  If contact were minimal enough that an untrained or
a slightly sensitive person wouldn't be able to tell contact had been made?*
	Silence.  *Will, the answer is that it would take on order of
one-half to two seconds, within a range of about 100 yards... but I know
humans have real problems with this.  I mean, I'm a psychic being, we have
the 'public mind' and 'private mind' concepts and the ability to enforce
it; but humans don't.*
	*I know.  But if the need is urgent enough, I /will/ consider it.*
	*If the need is urgent enough, the entire city could be aware of
what had occurred, although I don't know how many could put a name to it,
and they certainly wouldn't be able to identify me.  Give me five minutes
and I could locate any spongin to within a block.*
	*I'll remember that.*
	*Yeah.  Just promise to take the heat if somebody sues.*  He
'curled up' in the coronet, maintaining a bare contact.
	I realized that I was on the street, heading somewhere on my cycle.
I wasn't sure where, when suddenly I turned a corner and the Drag lay
before me.  That street(Guadalupe if you go in for real titles) lays in
front of the University of Texas.  One streetlight later, I was at the end
of the West mall, looking past the fountain up at the Tower, that big,
visible symbol of UT.  I had decided, I understood, to visit the campus,
perhaps to see if the science labs could aid me in the creation of a sensor
that wouldn't violate my sensibilities so much as the easy way out, maybe
even to contact T.A.L.O.N.
	Parking was the same nightmare it had always been; at least a new
garage aided this poor Jihaddi without a student permit.  The walk to the
Tower, this time up the South Mall, gave me another look up the front of
the famous view.
	The main thing that drew my attention was a crowd in front of the
Tower.  Not unusual, in a campus regularly lambasted by various folks as
being a haven of liberal anarchy-mongers and a bastion of conservative
oppressors, but they weren't making speeches or waving signs, just seeming
vaguely annoyed.
	I turned to the left, to head around to a side entrance.  To my
surprise, there was a group there as well, and a man in Security uniform in
front of the door.  I moved in closer to see what was going on.
	The crowd wasn't really addressing the man, although every now and
then someone would try to get in and he would politely refuse them
entrance, saying, "The Board is in a meeting and doesn't want anyone
disturbing the Main Building."  Odd, but reasonable - I could see how they
might be frustrated.  He turned away another person: "The Board is in a
meeting and doesn't want anyone disturbing the Main Building."  Even a
professor came up, demanding to know why the Academic Computing office
wasn't returning her calls, and got the same explanation: "The Board is in
a meeting and doesn't want anyone disturbing the Main Building."
	Hey, wait a minute.  Repetitive duty or not, no one said the same
thing, in the same near-monotone way, three times in a row in response to
different statements.
	*Kit!  Wake your sorry nonexistent ass up!*
	*What?*
	*Scan.  Not the crowd... /him/.*
	A tense moment stretched.
	*Sponge.*
	*Oh, bloody hell...*  I walked swiftly away and went some way onto
the South Mall, so I could get a nonobvious look at another side.  I
pointed Kit at the security guards in front of the south doors, and got the
same result.
	*Will... the building's full of them.*
	*How in hell could this happen?*  I answered my own question - late
last night, or early this morning, when there were few people and building
Security could be easily overpowered...
	*But this is foolish,* broadcast Kit.  *Why take such an obvious
place?*
	*I can think of two good reasons.  First, they don't plan to need
it for long.*  The ramifications of /that/ were bad enough.  *Second...*  I
showed Kit something I'd noticed some time ago about the Tower blueprints.
He let out a mental whistle.
	I thought, *Time may be running short...*  Reflexively, I checked
my watch - 12:55 - and wondered if there was enough time to somehow
disperse the crowd before something ugly happened.
	12:55.  Why did that echo in my head?   Then I remembered.

	History Note: The Knicker Carillion is a set of bells that were
donated to the University way back when.  High atop the UT Tower, they are
audible all over campus, and play various tunes from 12:50 to 1:00 each day.
	History Note #2: The only other thing the top of the UT Tower is
notable for, other than some good architecture, is its bloody history.

	Current Events note #1:  The aforesaid bells are not ringing.
	Current Events note #2: A man in a Jihaddi uniform is standing in
plain sight of the Observation Deck of the UT Tower, which has been closed
since the sniper activity from there thirty years ago, and on which a
swatch of purple cloth and a bright flash, as if from the muzzle of a gun,
has been sighted by said Jihaddi.

	I broke into a dead run to the left.  A few meters behind where I
had just been standing, a pockmark broke from the lawn as the roar of a gun
broke the silence.  The ever-present mathematical talents in my brain drew
a line between the Observation Deck and that pockmark and then shaded in
the figure of one humanoid.  They were collinear.  I shivered.
	  I reached the safety of a statue, and decided to hold off on my
usual invective as to why a state university would see fit to have a statue
of Jefferson Davis as I heard several rings and concrete chips rend the
air.  Damn it.  The crowd was screaming and running every which way.  As
soon as he stopped firing at me, he was gonna have a field day.  For a
moment, I heard the ricochets stop in my area.
	My staff was in my hand in a flash, light and fire weaving in a
deadly dance, as I broke cover and loosed a teardrop of hot death searing
across the intervening distance at the uniform on the Tower.
	It hit, and black soot scarred the Deck as the figure fell, half of it
gone.  The shots stopped for a moment, although screams of a panicked crowd
still rang out.  A rifle fell down the face of the Tower, crashing against
the balcony below.
	A muzzle poked over the Deck's railing and took several
barely-aimed potshots in my direction.  I regained the cover of the statue,
but in a moment, quiet reigned again.
	I peeked around the corner.  No one was watching, but they were
still there.
	And one Jihaddi plus some civilian forces were going to have to
take the Tower...
		TBC