Author: Will Keith, Kappa Squad, TRES Corps. Operation: Home Front - Those who Serve Fade in on a TV screen. A newswoman is sitting behind a sleek black desk in front of a bluescreen. It shows a global political map, rotating and closing in on a segment of Asia Minor. "In world news, an accord was announced today between rival factions in..." A nondescript arm in a white shirt sleeve hands a white paper with a torn bottom to the lady. She takes the page and reads it quickly. A tad unprofessionally, her eyes widen for a moment before she regains her composure and faces the camera. "This just in from the University of Texas campus - sniper fire has been confirmed by separate sources, witnessed from the U.T. Tower observation deck. One informant claims fire has been exchanged with a uniformed individual on the South Mall. Austin Police and University Police are rushing to the scene and have begun to evacuate all people from any venue overlooked by the Tower. There is no word yet as to any casualties..." At the moment, there was only one casualty that I knew of, and I'd caused it. It was the first sniper. Some in the crowd were still screaming, although clearer heads had prevailed somewhat and most of the voices were heading off toward points remote. My first priority right now was the civilians remaining, though. Further potshots had been taken, but as far as I could tell they were all still aimed at me, or at least at the stone and metal of the pedestal and statue I'd hidden behind. Police cars were coming into view at the end of the Mall, pulling into position to protect officers who piled behind them, guns drawn. The inhabitants of the open lawn that was the Mall had long since run to the safety of the buildings flanking it. Fortunately, the Six-Pack(so named because the six buildings were virtually identical when viewed from the Mall) was interconnected, so they weren't trapped there. I tried to think. From the South, the place was pretty clear. I didn't know how far the snipers' reach went, so I just focused on the buildings close by. From the North, there was an open street all the way to the Student Services Building, a large enough structure that the trees and homes of the city proper that started just beyond it should be safe. That street wasn't a gathering place for many people, so it should be clear of people by now. To the East was W. C. Hogg and a small plaza over the partially submerged Computation Center. Beyond that, a wide-open lawn stretching a respectable fraction of a mile to the Law Building. That could be a problem to get clear soon. The West Mall had almost certainly cleared quickly, and hopefully people would soon get out of the Union and the Flawn building, which flanked the Tower and had exposed windows(last time this happened, an idiot in the Union waved his shirt at the sniper. You can still find the place where the chip flew). The Drag (Guadalupe Street) and the stores facing it, though, were a semi-major thoroughfare. Oh man. I hoped they'd cleared out the high-rise private dorms across the street. /Lots/ of exposed windows... I realized the shots had stopped. I needed to get his attention until people could get out of the way. If he thought I'd left, he could shift his field of fire. Cautiously, I stuck a hand beyond the pedestal. He fired again and I pulled my hand back quickly. No more shots, though - probably he was watching carefully to see if I would do it again, or even if I was still there. An easy avenue of escape beckoned to me, the wall of which the pedestal was a part extending all the way down to Guadalupe, then the Harry Ransom Center, to safety. But instead I had to convince him I was still there, by sticking a part of my valuable body into the way of high-velocity lead. Well, if I was gonna do it, I might as well return fire. I drew my MathAttackicus semiautoMathic pistol. I stuck my hand around the corner and was about to fire off a couple unaimed potshots when it struck me what I was doing. I pulled my hand back. First, there could be somebody there. Strike that objection. The Square Root doesn't do anything to a normal person. Second, there would be barely any sensible effect unless it hit him - the MathAttackicus wasn't a projectile or energy weapon, you'd only see a slight distortion along the fire path. Srike that objection. I had no other weapon except my staff and powers, and it was impossible to produce an unaimed potshot in that fashion. Finally, if I did manage to despongify the person, he would be suddenly in a normal frame of mind, but trapped on top of a Tower filled with servants of B'harnii who'd happily(how else?) re-spongify him. With more reluctance: strike that objection. It would have gained a delay, which is what I sought at this point. I stuck my hand around the corner again and fired off a couple shots. They must not have hit, because the sniper immediately responded. Automatic weapons fire, this time - a bullet hit the pedestal close enough to a corner to knock off chips. One grazed my right shin, tearing the uniform and stinging like iodine. I was gonna have to try again, though - rats. By virtue of being a sponge, the sniper didn't have enough sense to duck my possible shots and so had the advantage of being able to respond to my slightest break from cover. Inspiration struck, though. A simple illusion could shield my hand, although it would be unable to provide the same cover to my eyes for a shot, the simple working I could produce on this short notice being opaque to both of us. A black sphere appeared, about one meter in diameter, at my chest height, centered on the edge of the pedestal. I stood back for a moment, as it drew the expected fire. No chips flew, though, and the shots stopped after a moment. Now, I could put my hand out there and fire at my leisure. *I say, Will, could you aim the pistol if /I/ provided the sight?* *Not a bad idea, Kit... It's gonna be a difficult shot, though. Go ahead and get out there. Locate the guy.* He floated out, taking a good long look at where the guy was from here. The sniper was propped against the balcony, looking through a scope in the direction of the sphere, occasionally shifting slightly to areas around it. I caused Kit to move back a ways so that I could see my own arm where it entered the blockaded area. I closed my eyes, as the dual images were becoming confusing. Also, in this state I could use my proprioception better. *Policemen come.* I reopened my eyes. It was so, two Austin PD officers coming up the safe route. I swore mildly, knowing that they would probably insist I evacuate with everyone else. Well, no harm in trying. The two drew up to me. Before they could speak, I addressed them. "Officers, I will leave as you have no doubt come to request, but I want to know that the other areas in sight of the Tower have been cleared first." "That's none of your business, son. You let the PD handle this. Don't be a hero." "The PD -" I bit back the remark two syllables late. Of course, the officer would resent the implication that the police couldn't handle this threat. "OK, I was gonna be nice but now you're being ordered. Get your hands in view and come with us." I sighed. "Very well." As I stood up, light flashed and a white curtain came up around the three of us. The next things I did caused first one officer, then the other to drop unconscious. The white curtain had hidden the action from the watching officers, but I had only a short time left. *Kit.* We reoriented again, my own eyes closed, using Kit's invisible senses to point out the sniper, my proprioception to hold the gun steady, drawing a line down the muzzle, almost as good as a laser sight. The trick was to combine disparate elements into one tight movement. I waited, waited, for everything to... ...click. I pulled the trigger. Not waiting to see the results, I fired several more times in that general direction. I pulled my hand back and directed Kit up close to see if anything had been achieved. He moved in. The sponge was shaking his head, as if to clear it of something. Perhaps I'd grazed him. I decided to take a risk. I stepped out in full view of the observation deck, planting my feet and raising both hands for a shot. Before the sponge could respond, I had fired two shots. It was a small target, but I was always a good shot. Both of them hit. Kit clearly saw the characteristic effect of the sponge's head appearing to distort into a square due to the space around it bending. It stretched, then snapped back to normal. I knew that the connection to B'harnii had been broken, tensed beyond its breaking point by the complexity of the effect. I was disproportionately smug at the tiny decrease in B'harnii's potential power, flipping a finger in the general cosmic direction of the Nagenta Demon. The ex-sponge suddenly stared at the rifle in his hands, then hastily ducked under the fencing. Good. Kit went over to give him some words of direction - A flash echoed through the link. Kit cried out wordlessly and fled back to the coronet. Through the "static" a being's pain puts over its thoughts, he sent, *Tower's warded... 't get in... ake a while to heal...* I sent conceredly, *How long, Kit?* *Can't fool me... just want to kno... I'll be useful again...* The pain was subsiding. *Soon. A few minutes, no big deal. ...flesh wound you've ...bigger problem.* I'd forgotten I was bleeding. It had pretty much stopped too. *No prob. Just a graze.* *Then the policemen coming with guns drawn are your main concern right now?* *Um... Yes[tm].* I thought a moment. Any story I told would have to jibe with the uniform, the leg wound, and the probability that I'd been seen by the officers south of the Mall when I shot the sniper. As close to the truth as possible would be good, then. I leaned against the wall and held the leg, making it seem like it hurt somewhat worse than it did. I let drop the sphere and shield, then looked up as if I was surprised at the action. I turned my head, sighting the two officers, and beckoned them in. "Drop your weapon!" Crap. I was still holding the desponge pistol. I dropped it on the ground as the officers approached. Using the staff, I pulled myself up jerkily and favored the injured leg more. "Don't shoot, I'm unarmed..." Not true, since with the staff I could probably take out both guns before they could fire, but that wasn't necessary for them to know. "I think I got the sniper, but there's-" "Keep quiet." Always a man to obey when guns were being pointed, I shut up. The lead officer spoke into his radio. "Two officers down. Suspect injured. We are taking him into custody." "I didn't..." "I said keep quiet. We'll get your side of the story in a minute." He kept the gun on me as he checked the neck pulse of the first officer. I figured it would be to my advantage to see them up and about, so I concentrated, and the unnatural slumber broke slowly. The officer he was checking was the first to awake. "Wha... Rogers? What happened?" "That's what we were going to ask you." By this time, the second officer had gotten around behind me and was preparing to cuff me. Not good. Not good at all. "Did this man attack you?" "Who? Oh, no. There was... um..." The other officer chimed in. "There was this light, and he fell. Then I felt something, uh, like pressure on my head, and everything went dark. He didn't do anything to us." "Was he resisting?" "As a matter of fact," the first officer said, "he didn't want to leave. He asked us if everybody else was away. We told him to come with us, he said OK, then the next thing I know I'm feeling like I pulled a double shift." The lead officer looked to the other one on the ground, who shrugged and said, "About wraps it up for me too." He shifted his attention to me. "Your turn." "The first I noticed was when it looked like the sniper was about to shoot at me. I ran behind the statue. He continued firing. I realized that he wasn't going to hit me, but if he turned his attention elsewhere he could do some real damage. When he stopped shooting I - well, a little after - I fired back with the non-lethal weapon I was carrying." I indicated the MathAttackicus on the ground. "When the officers arrived that's why I asked if everybody else was cleared out. I wanted to keep him occupied until there were fewer targets. I'd still like to know-" "And it's still none of your business," the original officer said, both of them now on their feet. "There's more you should know. First, I think I hit him. There might be a slight margin of safety now. But there are-" The lead officer motioned to his second to belay cuffing me, then addressed me. "Save it. And come with us to the cordon." We all moved, more or less hastily, down the cover of the wall to the Drag. There had been a police line set up across the Drag from one end of the University to the other. Crowds of people stood at either end, though within the cordon the only people were police officers, their cars pulled up and shields erected, behind which they stood, knelt, or moved around, waiting. The shops were empty, their people doubtless moved out the back, and people still trickled out of buildings within the cordon, hurrying down the sidewalk semi-protected by the wall and greenery that bounded the campus. I was being hustled down to the end of the campus where the crowd awaited. "Officers, I must speak to someone coordinating the action. I have information about the nature of the threat." They stopped immediately. The ranking officer, the leader of the original two, turned to me. "What kind of information?" "That is preferably given to someone with authority. It concerns the makeup and positioning of the forces in the Tower, their expected armament, and more." "Are you with them? /Were/ you? A deserter?" "No sir. We are an opposition group." He looked at me for a long, long minute. Then he commanded the three other officers, "Wait here with him." He went off to a mobile command station shielded by walls of bulletproof material, speaking to a succession of people. After a minute or so of talking to an older, solidly-built tall man with gray hair, he turned and beckoned us down here. As we approached the command station, one policewoman with a large, multi-person shield broke from the wall and crossed the lower end of the West Mall to come get us. Wordlessly, she handed out helmets and ferried over two of the officers, then came back to get myself and the final officer. As we crossed, gunfire broke out again and several shots ricocheted off the shield, but we made it across safely. The crowd groaned in excitement. Morons. No, I couldn't afford the luxury of arrogance right now. They were understandably excited by just being near a life-and-death situation. I had to maintain my faith in the basic intelligence of the average human to get through this. The lead officer said pointedly, "Margin of safety, was it?" I shot back, "Any figures on how many people managed to escape during the delay?" The superior officer broke in. "Are you the one that refused to leave?" "Yes sir. There was a reason for that." "I suppose this concerns the information you claimed to have?" "Yes sir." I waited for him to ask what. There was silence, which I hadn't expected. After a moment, he slapped the table. "This isn't a TV interview, dammit! I'm not here to fish. Tell me what you know before you're arrested for wasting my time in the middle of a crisis." "The forces in the Tower are numerous enough to hold all or most floors. They have for some reason disrupted operation of the Knicker Carillion. It is entirely possible that there is a device which they have up there. They are a military organization that is responsible for the defeat of the U.S. Armed Forces -" I broke off. The police around me had suddenly become considerably more incredulous. "What?" "Didn't you know?" the gray-haired man said. "Every terrorist group with a bomb or a cause isthe one that fought the U.S. military to a standstill all those years ago." "I see." I saw I should probably get out more. "Regardless of whether you believe the claim, however, there is much more to tell. Primary among this is that your standard weapons and tactics are unlikely to work against them." "S.W.A.T. teams are likely to be employed." "They stand a better chance of coming out alive. But as to accomplishing their intent - what is the goal of any planned operation?" He was judging how much he could tell me, I was sure. "At this time we have only your word that anyone other than the sniper is up there." "Speak to students and professors who have attempted to contact anyone in the Main Building today. They failed; this should be evidence that this is more than one person on the Observation deck. You /must/ have tried to contact the University employees in there by now." "The lines are down. But that's the first thing you've said that makes sense. We'll ask around about people who've tried to get into the Tower today." He turned to a waiting policewoman with a clipboard and instructed her to choose a team and go do that. She moved off with dispatch. "Keep it coming, mister." "The objective of any incursion should be to reach and destroy the Element. It is a device which could cause considerable damage to the population of Austin if activated." "Do you know where in the Tower it is?" "I suspect it's in the Carillion." "Your suspicion is insufficient data to form an incursion plan on. What do you know that could aid us in negotiation?" I thought a moment. "Their objective is most certainly to stall until their device can be activated. You will likely reach someone who will seek to delay any incursion as long as possible in order to reduce risk to theirself and the troops under their command. The time scale of delay is probably short enough that they believe they can hold the Tower against any assault short of reducing the Tower physically, which they no doubt understand is not a considered option. If they claim hostages, and especially if they release any, you should be wary. Any hostages and almost certainly any releases are likely to be loyal to the occupying forces, if not obviously so, and should be treated as requiring psychiatric and medical attention; also as possible agents. Finally, I must advise that every effort be made to deduce the position of the Element. Its destruction is a vital priority. "If you would, sir, I must point out that there are facts that must be taken into consideration here. The vast majority of troops currently holding the Tower are less susceptible to standard projectile weapons fire than would be expected. Their weapons in turn are nothing like you would expect. An incursion must be manned by properly equipped and-" "An incursion is not a viable option at this time. Your information is appreciated and may be of use to us later. You are ordered to stay in the Austin area. Is there a way we may contact you?" I gave him the string of numbers which would allow a cellular phone to contact my radio through the Jihad's local public relay station. I was then hustled out of the command station to the waiting crowd. This was wrong. The events that were coming up were shadowed. The limits to which the Jihad was straining its resources could have been relieved greatly by public assistance, had I been able to finagle it, but this avenue was closed to me. My best hope was that the negotiators would realize that they were being played along and an incursion would become necessary. As soon as that happened, I would have the urgent job of making the planners aware of the distinctive nature of the threat. Furthermore, I had to marshal more resources. It was possible that an incursion could be attempted without me, in which case it was almost certain to fail and my job would be considerably harder. That the police might be more ready to listen at that time would be small comfort if they didn't have the manpower to back upthe will to do so. I took the long walk around the cordon to the garage where I'd placed my cycle. When I got there, I unloaded the Comptech A-4 and interfaced it with Blaze's sensors. I ordered it to scan for concentrations of magical energy to the limit of its range. The two brightest immediate responses were myself, or rather several of my accoutrements, and the Tower's ward. It was unable to locate the Element precisely, of course, it being mostly a nonmagical object. I tapped my fingers as the scan broadened and deepened. Sweeps continued on out, increasing their sensitivity in already-scanned areas, scanning new areas. Some minor works, a couple of dabblers playing with forces. One shop I knew of, which had surprisingly authentic products. But that which I had suspected appeared only on the outskirts of Austin. As I had thought. T.A.L.O.N. was doing something, probably in response to the situation. And whether they liked the Jihad or not, we had a common goal and common necessity. I switched to communications and sent: TO: Group Coordinator Dae'ar From: Lt. Cmdr. Will Keith Subject: Assignment Progress Have located Array Element in Austin to accuracy of "Main Building, University of Texas Campus." Suspect precise location of Element atop Tower thereon. Local law enforcement hindering efforts to prepare incursion, this probably being expected by taking such a public place. Am proceeding to contact group which may aid later efforts. Failing in this, will consider further options. I also checked for incoming, and noted several things which appeared to be of interest. Nothing from Pers... Col. Sanford, LoD, had produced a sensor, the simple plans for which were attached. Burdoo, up in Kansas, had gained some information on where the Central Generator might be. Awesome. Some unusual information on the possible motivation or mechanics of the operation... hmmm. I didn't really need the sensor, so nothing was here that could alter my plans much. I started up the cycle. The better part of an hour later, I stood outside a surprising edifice. A large lot in an otherwise moderate suburban neighborhood had been made by combining four standard homesites in a square. A wrought-iron gate in a low iron fence led to a brick pathway that wandered through a well-kept lawn. Erected upon it was a massive three-story building of rather pleasing, if forbidding, architecture. Smooth grayish stone made up most of the support structure, but wooden window frames, doors, and eaves set off some of its imposing quality. Most of the windows were a simple diamond pattern of glass, though some were stained images. I made out a fire and a rising pheasant in two panels. Ivy accented a few surfaces, but overall the place was definitely bluff. Two things stuck out. First, there wasn't an electric light in the place. Though the day was clouded over, lit rooms had the white-yellow flicker of lamps rather than bulbs. Second, there was a definite aura of power over the place. I couldn't make out the purpose, though. It wasn't hostile, nor did it seem defensive. I dismounted, picked up my staff and blade(left the MathAttackicus behind), and ordered the cycle to lock down. I approached the iron gate to the brick pathway through the green lawn. "Welcome to the headquarters of T.A.L.O.N." A translucent image of a young man in a green, hooded robe appeared behind the gate. The quality of the work was sufficient that the illusion didn't have to be translucent, I knew - it was obviously for the reassurance of incomers that the personage was an illusion. "I am the reception system for the property; would you be so kind as to state your name and business?" "My name is Lieutenant Commander Will Keith. I wish to discuss... ah... a joint operation of military nature with T.A.L.O.N." "One moment." The arcanogram disapeared. After about a minute, it reappeared. "Enter. Please do not leave the path." The gate opened. I entered and made my way up to the door, which opened to receive me. Beyond was a large room about forty feet on a side, with a fire burning in a stone hearth and lamps on fixtures around the room. The furniture was arranged in small groups of chairs and sofas, usually wood or leather, and one group facing the fireplace. Just inside this group stood a man with a staff and a blue robe, hood thrown back. He was about twenty-five, with short black hair; everything about him had a neat appearance which nevertheless managed to avoid looking fussy. He spoke first. "If you know who we are and come to us bearing a staff, you must claim arcane powers. That is the only reason I speak to you, Jihaddi." I cocked an eyebrow. His tone had been arrogant in the extreme, which was a pity as it was otherwise a pleasant, richly-toned voice. "It might have been a plain quarterstaff; but your conclusion is correct, in that I am paranormally trained. I come to you because I require aid to defeat the sponge forces in the Tower." He was plainly surprised. "What is this? I had heard of no occupation by the Demon's forces in the Austin area, much less a landmark." "It happened probably sometime between last evening and this morning. Surely the news-" "We have no technological devices of communication here. We speak over long distances with the trained mind, not with easily manipulatable machines. What you say is a problem, but surely the mighty Jihad can handle taking a single location back from sponge forces? Or is there some reason your implements of mass destruction are insufficient to the task?" I ignored the verbal jabs. "The Jihad is currently facing a widespread operation of which this is but a part. We are therefore short on troops. Weapons of mass destruction, as you well know, are of last resort when the enemy occupies a site of great historic and other value, and depending on the operation's status, may or may not be available to me if absolutely necessary. The Austin and University police are insisting on doing it their way for right now, but we both know that they'll be slaughtered if they attempt to force their way in. The other possible problem is that they'll be stalled negotiating until the occupying force has achieved its objective - to receive the signal which will activate their element of an array intended to mass-spongify the entire world. We don't know how long we have. Without police assistance, we must prepare an incursion plan with the objective of destroying the Array Element before it is activated." He stood there for a moment, thinking. "Your military-mindedness appalls me." Figured. "If you are versed in magic, you should know that we could destroy this... Element... from where we stand. We could seek it out-" *The Tower is warded, moron.* He started. "Who is that?" "This is Kit, a psychic entity and my friend." He actually seemed a little impressed. "Psychic, you say?" *Kit?* *It is I.* *Your presence here is most welcome, Being of Thought. Why have you allied with this war-minded servant of his own tools?* Kit sent unworded contempt. *Because he is my friend, did you not hear? We work together, war-minded because we are at war. If there is to be any talk of servants then I am his, my duty transferred to him with my consent for services rendered by him unto another. What mean you by 'servant of his own tools'?* *Surely one such as you would know. Your goals and your means are all of thought and purpose. You are uncluttered by the incessant demands of the telephone, by the need to constantly maintain computers and weapons, even by the desires of the body. T.A.L.O.N. is made up of humans who have recognized that true power lies in the mind and the hand, in the flame that fuels both, and that tools should be strong, simple things, mayhap of enduring metal or easily remade wood. Your existence without even these trappings of matter is an ideal we may never attain, but that we strive towards even as we feed and shelter our bodies with monies from those who appreciate at least our usefulness in sundry matters, if not our philosophy.* *Your philosophy seems to me an excellent one in its way, and to have produced a tool ready to our hand at this time. But I was created from raw energies in a tumultuous galaxy ages ago, a construct which qualified for life and sentience by being able to sustain itself, and to compute in such complex fashion as to achieve reason. I have met few others like myself, but I know we all share a common trait - an insatiable hunger for communication with those beings who can feel a flower petal, who can hear a symphony, who can lift a paintbrush and use achingly complex systems of chemical interactions to change colored fluids into /that /which /they /saw /in /their /mind/.* His awe stretched out these last syllables in a mental whisper. *It is a near-mystical thing for me to contemplate, this coming from the realm of thought into the realm of form. What astonishes me is why so many humans are obsessed with denying as much as possible of their material world. We share one common trait, Magus - we share the realm of purpose. Thought and matter both act to achieve their ends, and maybe the ends of the Master Thinker who is also the Creator of all things material and energetic. If you would free yourself from unpurposeful clutter, I applaud but admonish you to neglect not tools that can help you to achieve. We come to set a purpose before you. Will you help us to achieve it?* The man had been watching a flame in a wall lamp while he listened to Kit. Now, he turned to look me in the eyes. "We will aid you in your quest, Jihaddi."