The Time Paradox

Holly slipped the clip from her belt, using the heel of one hand to ram it into the Neutrino.

 

Darts, she thought. Back to the Stone Age.

 

The big security guard was square in her sights, his lip wobbling petulantly.

 

No need for laser sights with this Mud Man, she thought. I could hardly miss.

 

And she didn’t. The tiny dart pricked the man’s shoulder, and he quivered for a moment until the antigravity field encircled him.

 

“Ooh,” he said. “That’s a little . . .”

 

Then Holly landed beside him, grasped his pale thigh, and hurled him into the sky. He went faster than a popped balloon, leaving a trail of surprised O’s in his wake.

 

The remaining men hurriedly finished pulling on their pants; two tripped in their haste, banging heads before crashing to the ground. Plates of tomato-and-mozzarella rolls were batted aside; bottles of beer went spinning across the tiles.

 

“My sandwiches,” said one man, even as he struggled with his purple jeans.

 

No time for panic, thought Holly, silent and invisible among them. She ducked low, avoiding pale swinging limbs, and quickly loosed off three more darts.

 

A strange calm descended on the sauna as three grown men found themselves floating toward a hole in the roof.

 

“My feet are—” began the bespectacled man.

 

“Shut up about your feet!” shouted sandwich man, swiping at him with a fist. The motion sent him spinning and bouncing like a pinball.

 

Foaly overrode Holly’s MUTE.

 

“D’Arvit, Holly. You have seconds. Seconds! Get out of there now! Even your suit armor will not stop an explosion of this magnitude.”

 

Holly’s face was red and sweating in spite of her helmet’s climate control.

 

Seconds left. How many times have I heard that?

 

No time for subtleties. She lay flat on her back, tapping the readout on her Neutrino to select concussion beams, and fired a wide pattern blast straight up.

 

The beam bore the men aloft, as a fast-flowing river would bear bubbles, bouncing them off the walls and each other before finally popping them through the still-sparking circle in the roof.

 

The last man out looked down as he left, wondering absently why he was not gibbering in panic. Surely flying was grounds for hysteria?

 

That will probably come later, he decided. If there is a later for me.

 

In the steam of the sauna, it seemed to him that there was a small humanoid shape lying on the floor. A diminutive figure with wings, which leaped to its feet, then sped toward the flying men.

 

It’s all true, thought the man. Just like Lord of the Rings. Fantasy creatures. All true.

 

Then the island exploded, and the man stopped worrying about fantasy creatures and began worrying about his trousers, which had just caught fire.

 

*

 

With all four men in the air, Holly decided that it was time to get herself as far from the supposed island as possible. She jumped from a squatting position, engaged her wings in the air, and shot into the morning sky.

 

“Very nice,” said Foaly. “You know they’re calling that move the Hollycopter, don’t you?”

 

Holly drew her weapon, urging the weightless men farther away from the island with short bursts.

 

“Busy staying alive, Foaly. Talk later.”

 

Foaly said. “Sorry, friend. I’m worried. I talk when I’m worried. Caballine thinks it’s a defense mechanism. Anyway, the Hollycopter. You did the same takeoff during that rooftop shoot-out in Darmstadt. Major . . . I mean . . . Commander Kelp caught it on video. They’re using the footage in the academy now. You wouldn’t believe how many cadets have broken their ankles trying the same trick.”

 

Holly was about to insist that he please shut up when Shelly ignited his methane cells, decimating his old shell and sending tons of debris hurtling skyward. The shock wave took Holly from below like a giant’s punch, sending her pinwheeling. She felt her suit flex to avoid the impact, the tiny scales closing ranks like the shields of a demon battalion. There was a slight hiss as her helmet plumped the safety bags protecting her brain and spinal cord. The screens in her visor flickered, jumped, then settled.

 

The world spun by her visor in a series of blues and grays. The Artificial Horizon in her helmet did several revolutions, end over end, though Holly realized that in actuality she was the one revolving, and not the display.

 

Alive. Still alive. My odds must be getting short.

 

Foaly broke in on her thoughts. “. . . heart rate is up, though I don’t know why. One would think you’d be used to these situations by now. The four humans made it, you will be delighted to know, since you risked your life and my technology to save them. What if one of my floaters had fallen into human hands?”

 

Holly used a combination of gestures and blinks to fire short bursts from several of her wings’ twelve engines, wrestling back control of her rig.

 

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