Book 2: Chapter 54: Dire Times (1/2)
Dan crouched over the remnants of Cornelius' assault rifle. The weapon's plastic handguard had cracked under the freezing temperatures it had experienced, and the metal barrel beneath was brittle and fractured. Dan was surprised it hadn't shattered when it had fallen from its owner's limp hands. Apparently, SPEAR team weapons were made of sterner stuff.
Cornelius' assault rifle was in much the same condition as his fellows'. The APD had lost a great deal of equipment to this raid, in addition to manpower. It was the magazine that had first caught Dan's eye, the small, colorful tab on its backside standing out against the ice. The tab signaled a special type of ammo, something incendiary judging from its bright red tint, but Dan's gaze had soon wandered across the rest of the weapon.
There was a deep handprint along the rifle's grip, where Cornelius' had all but shattered the weapon in his confinement. The sight made Dan's stomach churn. It was fear, he realized. It was fear that Cornelius had felt, trapped in the ice. It was fear that had crushed his own rifle beneath the panicked strength of a Twice-Born. Dan almost looked away, not willing to bear witness to his friend's weakness, but Cornelius' own lessons forced him to stay. There was something wrong with this picture. Something off.
What was it?
The trigger guard was cracked, and the trigger itself was worthless. The ejection port was clogged with ice. The weapon couldn't fire even if all else had been functional. The handguard was shredded, from cold and physical strength, but the barrel beneath was touched only by the cold. There was none of the warping that Dan would have expected from a grip squeezing down. Its matte black color was stained with deep cracks, bits of shiny silver guts peeking past the paint.
There were a few small scratches on the inner barrel, around where one's thumb would rest. Dan had assumed it was normal wear and tear, but the more he looked at it, the more... deliberate, they seemed. His gut poked at him, and he acted on the hunch. His veil poked out, running along the length of the barrel.
Dan blinked as information flowed into his mind. He felt where metal had been gouged away. He felt the shape of it. The letters, the message, carved by Cornelius' thumb as he was stranded in a block of ice. Intel, passed along to his fellow officers in case he didn't make it, as surely this weapon would have been examined at some point. Dan was simply the first.
Two letters, a common enough phrase: TP
Dan assumed Cornelius wasn't trying to communicate a need for toilet paper. He quickly called out for Captain Gable, and showed the man what he'd found. The officer produced a magnifying glass out of his pocket, and held it over the barrel, confirming the tiny, etched message for himself.
”It's impossible,” he stated in his low, steady tone. ”Any teleporter capable of transporting someone into the city would've put out an energy signature that'd be picked up from two states away. That's something you find in a particle physics laboratory, not in the hands of a petty gangster.”
”I don't think you can call him a petty gangster anymore,” Dan noted quietly. ”He's a full on villain, and he clearly had a way in and out that your people couldn't identify.”
”You need specialized equipment, on both ends of the transfer, for any sort of known teleportation,” Gable pointed out. ”And the energy needs are enormous. Even a layman knows that. Why do you think we still have cars? Coldeyes, no matter how large he may have grown, absolutely does not have a spare nuclear reactor sitting around.”
”Cornelius seems to think otherwise,” Dan pointed out. ”Why else would he leave this message?”
Gable stared down at the rifle. ”He must have been mistaken. I suspect Coldeyes appeared under the guise of teleportation, but it was a trick. Some kind of illusory upgrade. Any explanation other than a personal teleporter. We couldn't have possibly missed such a thing.”
Dan blinked, then cocked his head.
”A personal teleporter,” he repeated. ”What if they have a Natural who can teleport others?”
Gable frowned. ”Unlikely.”
”Why?” Dan asked urgently. If the enemy had a teleporter, they needed to start adjusting for it immediately. Dan knew exactly how devastating the power could be, and if this mystery person could bring along other people, he may even be more versatile than Dan.
Gable gestured to him. ”You are the most powerful teleporter I've ever heard of, and you can't even transfer a single person, much less an entire group. There were thirty people here.”
”You didn't breach for hours,” Dan pointed out. ”Plenty of time to take them away, one by one. Why else would Cornelius send that message?”
Great, clomping footsteps announced the arrival of Gregoir. He saluted his captain somberly.
”All SPEAR team members present and accounted for,” he reported, bereft of his usual sunny smile. ”Four were dead upon retrieval, as Daniel suspected. Another two have passed on before they arrived at Austin General. The rest are all in critical condition.” He glanced to Dan. ”Cornelius is in a coma, and it's likely he'll lose several limbs to frostbite.”
There were several upgrades capable of regenerating a limb, but Twice-Born was not one of them. Other options were available, especially to a well connected government employee like Cornelius, but amputation was very much not a thing of the past, even in Dimension A. There was no guarantee the older officer would ever regain the use of his limbs.
Dan scowled harder, and directed Gregoir's attention to Cornelius' rifle. ”They have a teleporter,” he explained, walking the big blonde through his thought process, while Gable pondered beside them.
”It's not impossible,” Gable admitted finally. ”It's certainly an explanation. Not one I'd prefer, and I'm still not sure if it fits all the facts.”
”We recovered Cornelius' helmet camera,” Gregoir offered. ”The stream cut out when they dipped below the shielded floor, but the backup recording might be salvageable. We'll have to see.”