Labored breath mixed with the rapid tap of heavy boots upon frozen ground, the drumming echoes reverberating fast and noisily through the shadowy back alleys of Vladivostok. Night was not yet upon the city, but it may as well have been, the overcast skies so thick that they dipped the port into a downright depressing murk.
Depression however, was the last thing on the mans mind as he ran, his great gray overcoat flapping about in the draft of his wake, catching on more than one misfortunate trash can or misplaced stack of boxes, the heavy-set figure tearing them over with thunderous noise in an effort to block the path of his pursuer. Dr. Alexei Kirov knew the one giving chase, the sapphire eyes peeking from the assembly of ushanka and thick cloth covering the rest of his face daring to look back a moment to verify that the pursuer was still on his trail.
Stop right there! came the confirming shout from back down the lane in distinct, clear American English, prompting Kirov to pick up the pace, dashing madly down the maze of alleys to escape his pursuer.
Agent Dietrich swore as he once more hesitated, the pistol clutched firmly in both hands at the end of outstretched arms, for a second time rushing back down to his side as the man stormed after Kirov. His boots gave telltale report as well, but that couldnt be avoided if he didnt want to freeze to death in the cold climate of Siberia. Why didnt threats to national security ever hole up in Hawaii? Just what was wrong with warm climates anyway?
Dietrichs thoughts were cut short as he rounded a corner and promptly stumbled over an overturned garbage can, just barely managing to keep on his feet. He swore again as his brown overcoat caught the lid, threatening his already teetering balance. Clattering after him raucously, the thing thankfully stumbled across a lantern pole with more allure after a few moments. Nevertheless, Agent Dietrich almost lost his ushanka in the process, having to press the thick fur hat to his head to make sure it stayed there.
Thick clouds of condensation billowed from his mouth, now little more than a set of pale lips in an unshaven face, thick black stubble already forming below piercing gray eyes. Unlike Kirov, he wasnt wearing a cloth, the frost of the cold Vladivostok air evening out the initial advantage the slim and limber Deitrich had over Kirovs larger and much more substantial frame. Still, he was slowly catching up, and both of them knew it.
Dietrich heard a loud crash around the next corner, seeing the cause as soon as he rounded the twist of the passage. Kirov had kicked down the door to an obviously condemned building, the partially shattered windows of all seven floors boarded up from the inside. The agent wasted no time, forcing his way through the remains of the door and into a stairwell filled with dust and gloom, only a few rays of the already sparse sunlight making their way in through spaces in the window boards and wall cracks. From above sounded steps at speedy pace, the winding metal staircase rumbling with every impact of a boot.
But now there was another sound, clearly audible and getting closer every second.
The characteristic beat of helicopter blades.
Dietrich swore again, gripping his gun firmly as he stormed up the stairwell with all he had, already out of breath from the chase through the city. The ascension seemed to take an eternity, the racket of the chopper coming closer with every second that ticked by. It felt as if the building trembled from the proximity, and the agent by now imagined the aircraft directly overhead, having to remind himself again and again that couldnt yet be. It was but the shaking of the staircase under two pairs of heavy boots that created the illusion.
Another crash echoed from above, a beam of light flooding the top of the staircase with illumination. Against the murk of the building, the little bit of light seemed almost blindingly radiant as Dietrich charged through the door to the roof that Kirov had broken down. He pondered again at the mans physical strength. Kirov really didnt look all that strong. Especially now, the heavy-set man running across the loose gravel of the flat roof to its edge.
Stop! Dietrich roared after the doctor, bringing his pistol to bear, I mean it! Stop or Ill shoot!
To his great surprise, not to mention relief, Kirov indeed stopped running, if only a few steps from the rim of the roof.
Hands on your head! the agent commanded with determined intent, the doctor only slowly complying as Dietrich repeated slower and more clearly, Hands on your head! I wont say it again! Now turn around!
Now came what hed expected even less. Kirov started to laugh first in but a light chuckle, then the same roaring laugh that had been made famous in the old pubs of the Soviet Union.
Go ahead, comrade. Kirov added with a heavy Slavic accent as the turned about, speaking mostly broken English (at best), Shoot me if you want. It does not matter. You cannot catch me.
Dont do anything stupid! Agent Dietrich warned as he advanced on the doctor, seeing Kirov take a step backwards to the edge of the roof, It doesnt have to end this way!
I beg to differ, comrade. Kirov chortled, taking his hands off his head and raising his arms into the sky, I am afraid I cannot be caught by you, anyone else.
Why?! Dietrich shouted, imploring him not to jump, Doctor, youre not making any sense! This isnt worth your life! Why?!
Because you are not ready, comrade.
All of a sudden, the approaching helicopter roared by overhead, flying dangerously low, the buffeting winds forcing Agent Dietrich to the ground. Thinking quickly, he tried to shield his eyes as the downwash kicked up dirt and gravel from the roof. By the time he could see clearly again, Kirov was gone from the roof and far away, hanging by one arm from a landing strut of the aircraft while waving insultingly with the other. Hed taken his ushanka off his head, holding it by one of the earflaps. Dietrich imagined he could almost see the smug, condescending smile underneath the cloth that still covered half his face.
Dietrich swore again, throwing his own hat onto the gravel of the roof in frustration. But only for a moment, as he quickly realized just how cold it was, snatching the ushanka up again and draping it firmly over his head once more. Kirov had gotten away again and hed been so close
so close, and yet so far. The agent shook his head. This wouldnt look good on his next report no matter which way he spun it.
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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Report Agent Dietrich
The door of my apartment seemed to sense my bad mood, the thick, solid slab of old wood swinging open no sooner than Id twisted the key back from the dull metal of the lock. I quickly grabbed hold of the handle, taking a glance at the twine that tied together door and frame on the other side. It was unbroken. Nobody had been here in my absence. My spirits lifted a little as I undid the string, chalking up another strike against my paranoia. Maybe someday Id get over it, maybe not. My superiors always told me we agents needed a healthy dose of it, though what exactly was healthy there was probably the elusive stuff of legends in the psychological warfare department.
I discovered an unopened envelope on the wooden boards of the floor as I fully opened the door, picking up the manila packet addressed to a Vladimir Panchev my cover name while on this assignment. Sometimes I had to work hard not to lose my own name in this whole mess. Even Dietrich was only my work alias, the German word for skeleton key. I had to admit, I liked both the sound and meaning of it, but sometimes I was starting to wonder who I really was.
I hung my coat upon its rack in the narrow entryway of the apartment, then proceeded to the living room, carefully eyeing the envelope just in case. Soviet counterintelligence was vicious in their approach, and not picky in means. I fully expected a dose of Zyklon-B or something equally nasty in my mail any day now. True, the apartment wasnt in any way connected with anything illicit, as agents used it only as a stopover, but the NSA had rented it for a few months already, and normally our hideouts didnt last more than maybe half a year
at best.
Thankfully, the thing was real, though it wasnt actually mail, instead only disguised as such. One of my contact men or a fellow agent must have dropped it off while Id been out chasing Kirov.
Sitting down in the only chair of the sparsely furnished living room, I pulled the envelopes contents from it and spread them on the coffee table as I proceeded to nurse the bottle of brandy Id placed there earlier in the day for just such an occasion. They were photos, mostly aerial snapshots, and a few more intelligence reports I would have to add to my collection. Deciding to get right on the job, I stepped over to a niche of the room and lifted the fake portion of the wall out of the way, removing one of the locked briefcases in the space. I spread the contents of the case out on the table as well, comparing and contrasting the old with the new as I ran everything through my mind once more time from the beginning.
It had all started on December 2nd of last year, when NASA had shot up their STS-27 shuttle mission. In public, it had been a rousing success, but this was only due to the classified nature of what shuttle Atlantis carried at the time. Department of Defense had been marked as the mission, and the people were happy, thinking wed have a new edge on the Soviets with it.
We probably would have too, if it hadnt been for a critical component failure that had cut the mission drastically short. Thankfully, everyone had come back fine, but just about every intelligence agency had feared the worst at the time. The component had been with the payload, not the orbiter, but that hadnt exactly made things better. Considering the thing had literally disintegrated for unknown reasons, the fears that the entire craft might have suffered the same fate had been hard to assuage.
An investigation was launched the same day, with absolutely everything scrutinized from the testimony of news reporters to the factory bills for the payload. Nothing had turned up, not a single shred of evidence ever pointing in a conclusive direction. Only when somebody had gotten the downright crazy idea to find the original manufacturer of the component instead of the contractor whod sold it did the little red flags begin to pop up.
General Cosmic Incorporated had been the name, and thats where the trail had grown colder than arctic ice. Not to mention downright weird. Had someone in the records department just been reading too much science fiction? It hadnt made any sense such things were so expertly tracked that it was downright impossible for anyone to lose anything. Sure, things got buried under miles of red tape, but if one spent enough time digging for them, they were always there. Not so here. Not only was there that odd name, but also it was as if GC Inc. had been swallowed up from the face of the earth. No clues to operations, facilities, employment, but a phantom company through and through. That was, until someone within the CIA had made a wrong call and stumbled upon a relation. A name had come up: Doctor Alexei Nikolaevich Kirov.
Alarms had gone off all over that day. That sounded Soviet in so many ways it had sent the collective paranoia of the agencies so far through the roof that someone could probably climb all the way to the moon on the result. Not only that, but so many deals the DoD had made over the last few years had been connected with this guy it was downright scary. Most people suspected a red infiltration, and only when the case officially became NSA territory did things resume some normalcy.
I think we were the only agency that asked questions instead of letting fear get the better of us. We asked who and why, when, and where, what and how, and we started getting a few answers. If this really was a Soviet infiltration of our defense sector, its execution had been poor most of the deals had helped more than they ever could have hurt. Still, things remained sketchy. Not only did Dr. Kirov seem to be only half a man (we found a good deal of information, but nowhere near enough to have this man be a real person), and what we found held up under scrutiny, but a few things were suspicious to say the least.
Nobody knew where this guy came from or his whereabouts most of the time. He did business by phone, at least mostly, and whenever he absolutely had to appear in person, he dragged this odd statue of a dragon around with him wherever he went. Said it brought him luck. Strange behavior to be sure, but other things were even more confusing, including why hed run the first time Id attempted to question him. It was my case, and mine alone, and Id told him I called the shots here. He didnt believe me, or at least gave the appearance of just that, telling me that if I knew what was really going on, Id probably turn into a babbling moron, be decried as insane, and subsequently ousted from both the NSA as well as the entire intelligence community.
As I ran these things through my mind, however, the corner of my eye caught something on one of the photos that had just now been sent to me. It was an aerial snapshot of the Vladivostok train depot, and one of the rails had been building up some heavy traffic compared top the last shot Id seen of it
not to mention a very, very odd pattern of traffic.
I took a pencil and a notepad as an idea fed into my brain that Id thought I couldnt hold my alcohol anymore and Id gotten drunk off only a few sips of the bottle. But as I jotted down the pattern, I grew more and more sure that I wasnt dreaming. The train cars were arranged in a definite scheme, an arrangement of single and tri-linked cars that could be clearly seen from the aerial photograph.
Dots and dashes. Morse code.
I didnt know the code by heart anymore, though I did recognize it, and so it took me a few minutes to translate the message into anything resembling some sense. Of course, sense was a very relative term, as my initial feeling that I was just drunk or crazy returned upon the deciphered content. C-O-M-E H-E-R-E spelled the pattern, and I checked it three more times despite myself. I really wasnt seeing things. It was there.
Finally, I decided to take it. After all, my last trail had grown cold, so what did I really have to lose? I picked up the phone and started dialing, requesting the schedule for the departure of the next few cargo trains out of Vladivostok under the pretense that I perhaps wished to ship a sizeable load of goods to Moscow. This proposition was good money, and it didnt take long for me to get the departure schedule and serial numbers for the next few days as well as some numbers for the cars already on the tracks.
Initially, I couldnt believe it as I was told they didnt know where a certain train was going when I inquired about the number of one of the cars in the pattern. But as I asked more and more, they eventually warded me off with government confidentiality. I made a note of it, said my goodbyes, and hung up. Later in the day, Id call a contact of mine to place an actual order while asking about that train as well, just so it didnt seem suspicious. After all, it had a very convenient departure time, and had it been going to Moscow, it wouldve been a very desirable train.
Of course, it was still quite desirable to my person. A freight train of classified cargo and destination, not to mention so coincidentally spelling a message that could only be seen from the air? That I just had to have a look at.
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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It didnt take me long to make my way to the train station. The majestic archways of the main buildings masonry stood out quite respectably, even in the drab gray of the day, and Id probably have found the place without any aerial photography at all. Sadly, that didnt make my job any easier. The same reason the station area had been simple to find made it difficult to locate the train I wanted.
The place was huge. I had trouble just finding the information booth, let alone anything truly specific. Some secret agent I was. Intend to spy on something that could be seen from the air, then fail to even find it on the ground. Why did that sound so typical?
Eventually however, I managed to get my bearings and make myself a rough mental map of the place, being once more thankful for the snapshots sent to me. It wouldve likely taken me twice as long if I hadnt looked those over a few more times before leaving the apartment. Though the whole place seemed to have been painted in grayscale, after a while I was able to tell things apart enough to get a good feel for where I was, where I was going, and where I really should have been going. Needless to say, those didnt quite coincide just yet.
Then I spotted them.
From the footbridge running over the terminal platforms, I recognized one of the serial numbers Id been looking for. Of course, it was only after the armed guards had caught my attention that said numerical scheme was actually observed closely enough to recognize. As my boss always said, If you want to hide something properly, hide it in plain sight.
Obviously, they werent hiding this train. They were showing it off, and in a look-but-dont-touch fashion to boot. The burly guardsmen of the Soviet military were an effective deterrent, and passersby stayed well clear of them and the platform, knowing all too well that the affairs of the communist government were something to be best not involved in. Still, there were a few curious ones, loitering about and wondering as I did (though probably not for the same reasons) what the definitely military staff was loading into those cargo cars in finely sealed boxes.
Passing my gaze over the intriguing scene, I found Kirov near the engine, conversing with what looked like an officer of rank, standing amidst clouds of slowly migrating condensation and steam from the locomotive. They seemed to be having an argument. Either that or someone had spilled some good vodka. A mortal sin in my opinion.
My eyes kept wandering, surveying the scene, and locked onto the statue not far from Kirov, the stone dragon and its pedestal resting on a cargo dolly suspiciously close. It wasnt very large, only about the size of a hefty dog, perhaps a Great Dane, and I once again wondered why the doctor kept it around everywhere he went.
Mighty bizarre, wouldnt you say, old chap? suddenly came a voice from behind my with a defined British accent, nearly sending my heart fleeing from my chest. I pride myself on being very hard to sneak up on, and Id never gotten even a hint of this guy!
Oh now, dont fret. the man came into view as I turned about to face him. He wasnt much to look at, mummified in the same get-up as I to shield himself from the biting cold. The only thing I could see was a pair of brown eyes on pale skin, and that he stood just a bit shorter than me.
Im just glad to see you. the Brit continued, extending a hand that I grasped only with caution, only to be pulled very close the next second in the traditional fashion of a pair of old friends greeting one another here in Russia. However, the moment he whispered the code into my ear, I knew what was going on and returned the gesture. Then we both laughed heartily like two brothers who hadnt seen each other in ages.
His name was Rimsey, or at least thats what he asked me to call him. Agent of Her Majestys Secret Service. Not quite sure why they called MI6 that all the time (I always thought the British were rather strange), but the code was proof enough for me. Apparently, we werent the only ones after Kirov, though Rimsey admitted he was more on the job of just finding out who he was before taking any direct action, whereas my role stood to some extent reversed.
Hed also observed the Morse code pattern, having initially assumed that it had been some sort of signal set up by our agencies, and that Id been his contact man. Hed been on his own deep in Soviet territory for far longer than I, and needless to say his disappointment had been great that things hadnt turned out the way hed expected.
Mighty bizarre. he told me again, shaking his head as we watched the train in question, So what do you suppose is in that statue? Some sort of jolly big secret, Id wager. Has to be.
I smiled. Now here was a man who loved his job, no matter how dangerous he knew it to be. Stealing secrets and slipping them right under peoples noses.
Dont have a clue. I whispered back, both of us keeping our true dialogue hidden in casual conversation about the weather, grain prices, and those blasted Americans (spoken in my best Russian of course), Whatever it is though, Id say youre right. The mans hiding something. Something big. And Im going to find out what. Im getting on that train.
Why, seems the Yanks got a spot of crazy in him. the British agent chuckled, I like that. I take it your big cheese back home wouldnt mind if we worked together on this one, yes?
I nodded. British Intelligence wasnt exactly considered family, but our agencies worked closely enough to share a few secrets here and there. Heck, even if they hadnt been, Id have been foolish to turn down his offer.
The loud echo of a steam whistle turned our heads to the train. It wouldnt be long before departure. Kirov had already boarded, and his weird statue had been loaded too. I often wondered if he was part of some sort of cult. It didnt seem to fit. He was too smart a man for things like that. Be that as it may however, we now had two covert agents on potentially hostile soil with the express need to board a train under heavy guard by the Soviet military.
Piece of cake.
Lets go. I gave Rimsey a nod, starting to walk as I observed the guards once more, Ive got an idea.
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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The howl of the steam whistle sounded almost too early. Rimsey and I barely had time to slip into the stolen uniforms and drag the unconscious pair of donors somewhere they wouldnt be found too soon. We broke into a run as we saw the trains initial forward jerk, couplings clacking and chains rattling, the wheels of the locomotive spinning idle for a few seconds before they got a good grip on the steel rails.
The engine whistled once more as it slowly accelerated out of the station, Rimsey and I giving chase as inconspicuously as possible. The rear of a boxcar ended up our insertion point, and I found myself unable to recall a time when my grin had been wider. We passed the last of the armed guards on that station platform, their Kalashnikovs hanging harmlessly in the holsters on their backs, the men carrying them utterly unaware. Had my face not been covered in cloth yet again, we wouldve likely been busted right then and there.
Anything about that strike you as odd? Riksey questioned as the station grew smaller in the distance, the train finally picking up speed.
A better question would be what didnt. a shrug accompanied my answer, I couldve sworn those guys heard us coming.
Rimsey let out a sigh of relief, Good, so it wasnt just me. For a spot there, I thought Id succumbed to paranoia.
Nah. I shook my head, I wouldve spotted us coming, so they shouldve too. Doesnt make sense any other way. I think weve both dealt with these guys before, and I think we both know theyre better than that.
Hm. the Brit gave a solemn nod, Not to mention lighter.
I looked at him with a thoughtful eye, They were, werent they?
The scene ran through my head again. Rimsey was right. Those two had been unusually heavy; as if their bodies had been twice the size theyd appeared. True, theyd carried a good bit of equipment, but that couldnt fully explain the abnormal bulk. Warm clothing and weapons only weighed so much, and I couldve sworn the guards had been far across the line there. At the time, Id written it off as anxiety, but since the British agent had felt the same thing, I wasnt so sure anymore.
I inspected the AK-47 Id swiped. No different than any other Kalashnikov Id ever seen. No heavier, either. Neither the overcoat, ushanka, or any part of the stolen uniform stood out in any way. Just plain-old, run-of-the-mill equipment of the Soviet military and now that Id actually inspected them in detail, the whole situation grew even more mysterious.
Yeah, somethings not right here. I agreed with Rimsey, placing the rifle back in its holster while I pointed to the ladder that led to the roof of the car, Cmon, lets see what we can find.
I reached for the first rung of the ladder, and then promptly froze as I noticed a flit of motion in the corner of my eye. The telltale click of a Kalashnikov releasing its safety lock made sure I stayed that way.
Dont even think about moving. a gruff voice that belonged to the wielder of the rifle commanded in Russian, And you: AK on the ground or I turn your friend into a kitchen strainer.
The dual clack of stock and barrel making contact with the shuddering metal grate underneath our feet entered my ears. Wed been caught with our pants down not half an hour into the mission. Great.
Good start. commented the voice, mumbled and low in tone. Likely, the owner spoke through a scarf or other sort of cloth, Id much prefer not to shoot either of you. But dont mistake me for a compassionate man. I merely scorn attention. Turn around. Hands where I can see them.
Wait, what? I caught myself trying to turn and get a look at this guy. Didnt want attention? What was going on here?
Now then, the uniformed exact same thing that Rimsey and I had borrowed, of course man started again after hed climbed down to us. He stood a little shorter than I, but also a bit broader in the shoulders, the Slavic features of his face clearly outlining eyes of neutral gray, youre going to tell me whats going on with this train and where its going. And be quick about it.
Had there not been a Kalashnikov pointed at my guts, I probably would have started laughing. Well, that explained that. Of course, said explanation opened up an entirely different can of worms, a deluge of questions flooding my mind. Still, my lips twitched a bit as they curled into a smirk.
Yeah, about that. I answered in English, earning a puzzled look as the mans gray eyes widened, Thats what we were going to ask you.
You are American. he remarked in like language, his accent noticeable but not excessive, though his tone was clearly befuddled. It took him a little longer to come to the same realization that I (and Rimsey as well, I suspected) had arrived at already. Still, I breathed a sigh of relief as the muzzle of his rifle sank after a short discourse. I did much prefer words to bullets. Most everyone did.
At first, he of course distrusted us a great deal. Eventually however, Rimsey managed to convince him we really were here to investigate the very same thing as he. Koschev he gave as his name, and as I had hypothesized, agent of the Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti Committee for State Security, or abbreviated simply KGB.
Needless to say, his presence here already made little sense, and this quickly changed to no sense at all as he told us he wasnt here to covertly monitor the activites of any sort of military company because there wasnt any here. But if these people werent with the Soviet military, as they presented themselves to be, then who in Gods name were they?
I havent the slightest idea. Koschev gave answer in Russian once more, the three of us having switched languages just in case, And youre both telling me you have no idea where this train is going?
Rimsey and I shook our heads. It was odd, really. We couldve all been lying, and each of us knew because wed all been trained to make deception not just our jobs, but expand it into an art. Yet here we stood, and it all felt so honest. I couldnt put my finger on it, but I was absolutely, positively, and one hundred percent confident that the Russian was telling the truth. Even stranger, Rimsey and he seemed to have the same sensation. British, American, and Russian, all together and none of us lying to one another. We were sure of it.
I dont know about you chaps, Rimsey voiced his concern, but I find this bloody creepy. Shouldnt we at least
I dont know
be trying to pry confidential information or state secrets out of one another? Not that they tell us any, but
I mean, not that I dont prefer it this way, dont get me wrong, but this is giving me the willies.
We took a moment to consider this. Make that quite a few moments. There just wasnt any asnwer forthcoming, even as I stared at the cloudy sky in a vain attempt to discern anything wrong with me.
We have bigger problems. the Russian suddenly drew my attention, having moved back to the goardrail to look toward the front of the train. I coulnt be entirely sure, but his face looked a good deal paler than before.
The moment Rimsey and I looked around the car as well, I could see why. The tracks described a very large curve, leading to a bridge strethcing over a humongous gorge ahead; or rather what would have been a bridge had it not ended in a twisted pile of wood and metal after just a few dozen meters.
I felt a sudden lump in my throat as I saw what I didnt want to believe the locomotive steamed straight for it at speed!
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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I cant remember having ever sworn more colorfully than during my mad dash up the ladder of the cargo car. Generally, I had little need to curse in order to express myself, but right now it was really all that fit the situation. Koschev and Rimsey probably werent too calm either, but the howl of wind over the trains corrugated roof eclipsed anything short of barking into the others ear. Good thing we needed no words right now, working together like a well-oiled machine. The first to the roof, I wasted no time reaching for the hand of the Russian agent, pulling hard to get him up quickly. Rimsey followed even faster, only his feet on the ladder, a hand in each of ours as we pulled like regatta rowers.
Then we took off running. It probably wasnt the wisest thing to do considering the iced-over roof was a very slippery surface, but at that moment I dont think any of us truly cared.
What the hell is going on here anyway?! I shouted to Koschev over the harsh, frigid wind, my left arm in front of my face to cut through the buffeting frost more easily, I didnt know the trans-Siberian had a huge gap in it!
It doesnt! he yelled back, head shaking vigorously.
Needless to say, those words made me feel worlds better. Like cauterizing a paper cut. So now we didnt even know where we were. If we survived this, I was going to have a serious talk with my boss about getting information to agents in the field as currently as possible. Those satellite things had to be capable of more than just taking pictures.
Just move! Rimsey spurred us on from behind, our unlikely trio bolting over car after car as quickly as we could, trying our best not to fall, especially after each jump across a gap in the train.
I secretly thanked my lucky stars that the whole thing seemed to be composed of boxcars. While I still slid more than I was comfortable with, not to mention landed on body parts other than my feet several times, at least my momentum was never enough to actually go anywhere. Still, the rushing ground below those edges looked more than lethal, prompting me to stay away as much as was humanly possible. We ran and jumped, leaped and stormed, fighting our way through wind, smoke, and drifting snow to the front of the train. I could scarcely believe my own drive to get to the locomotive, ignoring virtually everything in lieu of my single-minded desire to stop this train.
Well, almost everything. What happened the moment I wished to leap into the coal tender threw my mind for such a loop I couldnt help but take notice. Expecting a bed of coals to land in as I half-blindly hurdled through another snowdrift, I instead found only air where I expected a solid surface. With about the same sensation as someone having pulled the rug out from under my feet, I ended up with a painful three-point landing on nothing but a cold metal slab.
The blasted thing was empty!
You alright?! came a shout from above and behind, Rimseys voice pulling me from my wonderings and back to our predicament. There was still a gorge and a train that we should be making sure didnt meet.
Peachy! I yelled back as I got off my stinging rump, waving the two down. Already aware of the empty tender, they proceeded a bit more carefully than I, my demonstration of the alternative having been more than adequately convincing. However, my attention was already on something else entirely: the absence of a conductor. Or anyone else, for that matter.
This cant be good. I remarked in a whisper to myself as I entered the locomotive house, already expecting someone to bean me over the head with a coal shovel at any given moment, Who the hells driving the damn train?
We are! Koschev declared decisively, gripping one of the many levers sticking out of the boiler, and then yanked the thing back with a raucous series of clacks, the restraining springs giving way as the lever moved through several positions.
Nothing changed.
I blinked twice and turned to the Russian with a questioning expression, a finger pointed at the switch hed pulled. Koschev only nodded slowly, his eyes wide. Yes, that had indeed been the emergency brake.
Now what? I glanced about nervously, my eyes finding the front windows of the engine house, but not daring to look. Rimsey, however, seemed to have no such reservations, already peering through the flying snow ahead.
Whatever it is, wed better figure out that what right quick. Id say weve less than half a minute.
What?! I lurched beside him, my eyes wide as they beheld the rapidly closing gorge. Had the train sped up? It mustve! We couldnt have been this close just a minute ago!
We jump! Koschev affirmed, reaching for our last resort. We all knew we hadnt the time to release the boiler pressure or try every other method of braking. I didnt know it at the time (though I couldnt help but suspect it already), but that wouldnt have worked any way we twisted it. This thing didnt run on steam.
Alright! I stepped to the edge of the rear platform with the other two. A chill ran down my back as I observed the ground whizzing by like some demented tapeworm, the gray and white hues of the landscape alternating so quickly my eyes couldnt keep up, On three! One! Tw
!
Without warning, a tremor surged through the metal under our feet, bowling us over backwards and into the engine house. The quickening chatter of metal upon metal combined with a sudden sense of acceleration of the passing terrain. The train had sped up again, and this time forcefully enough to ruin our balance. I usually pride myself upon my ability to remain calm in tense situations, but now I stood on the edge of utter panic. I simply couldnt be! There was no way in hell the train had reacted to our actions! It was a train, for heavens sake!
Brace! was all Koschev still had time to yell before the engine sped onto the creaking wooden frame of the bridge fragment. Any moment now I expected to drop into the abyss below. My life flashed before my eyes as I tried to scramble up in defiance, refusing to die in a blazing ball of fire at the bottom of some Siberian ravine. Id always said I wanted to go out with a bang, but I wasnt anywhere near ready yet!
Of course, its always the same first it comes different, second than you think.
From one moment to another, my world washed away into haze and obscurity, then bounced back just as quickly. A pulling pain racked my body from the neck down, and for an instant I almost thought it had already happened; that Id been burned alive. A second later it was already over. My hazy sight retuned to normal, and the pain subsided slowly but surely. The first thing I perceived was that I still lay in the engine house. The second was a collection of Russian curses the likes of which Id never heard. Koschev swore profusely where he lay, and as I caught my hands patting down my body to make sure I hadnt lost anything, I discovered an already sitting Rimsey doing the same.
What just happened? I questioned slowly and in disbelief while I sat up, looking carefully about me in confusion. Everything was still there the empty tender was still empty, the locomotive still sped down its track, and
Track?!
I lurched up with that thought, forgetting about any lingering pain as I stormed to the edge of the rear platform and fixed my eyes on the ground beneath the train, kneeling over the edge while I held on with an arm. Thats right: ground. Complete with rails. Looking to the rear, I spied the wooden skeleton of the dilapidated bridge section receding into the distance behind the train. Only it wasnt the same fragment.
Hey, guys. I motioned back to the duo of Brit and Russian with two fingers, not taking my eyes off the clearly different bridgehead, Youre gonna want to see this.
No, I dont think so. I heard Rimsey from the other side of the engine house, shock and awe overt in his tone, No way you can top this.
A sudden sense of dread overcame me. Against my better judgment, I turned from back to front, laying eyes on what lay ahead of the train. To this day, Im still not sure what opened wider my eyes or my mouth
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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Big.
Really, really big. At first, thats all I could describe it as. The train had climbed over a hill, and now the thing sat there in full view. It was some manner of structure, a tower of insane proportions. I had no idea how far away the thing was, but it mustve been at least a kilometer. Still, the dark, narrow cone already reached high into the sky. It had no tip, instead terminating in what looked like a flat surface. Rings of truly titanic spikes rose in regular intervals from the buildings surface, growing smaller with altitude, meaning the largest rimmed base of the structure.
No, that wasnt right. Something else stood there. It was hard to make out at first, but as we approached closer and closer, I could see a web-like structure emerge, an assembly of triangular holes like one might see on a playground. The odd formation encircled the tower completely, reaching down from what appeared to be a third of its total height at close to a forty-five degree angle. When I focused on the circle it made with the ground, I immediately realized why it had been so hard to see. The thing was transparent! The holes werent holes at all, nor was the assembly what it appeared. I caught my mind drawing more and more parallels to a gigantic greenhouse, but here was no green underneath. Just permafrost and part of the huge tower, that was all.
Wait, no. That wasnt all and by the time I noticed, I didnt know if the idea frightened me more than the fact that it had taken me this long in order to realize it.
Are we
? I turned to Rimsey, discovering his face pale as a ghost. Chances are I wasnt looking any deal more confident.
Quite right. he gulped, staring in disbelief at the seeming impossibility ahead of us. The train tracks were floating. Either that, or they stood composed of a material that defied the laws of gravity, physics, and just about anything else. All I knew was what I saw and I saw a pair of metal tracks run what mustve been more than a dozen meters above the ground, without any cross bracing or support structure at all. I turned back to the rear of the train to see where theyd come off the ground in the first place, and it really was no great mystery. In fact, the explanation stared me right in the face with what felt like a most annoying smirk. The one someone gives you when youve just done something incredibly stupid or warranting a very audible, Duh!
The hill wed just climbed hadnt been a hill. It had been the rim of a crater. A frighteningly big crater. I found myself looking back at the odd tower, estimating it at perhaps a hundred meters tall, maybe more. A great many glinting lights dotted and rimmed its dark surface, its color some unidentifiable mixture of murky blues. Despite the clearly visible beams of both stationary and oscillating spotlights mounted on the lower portions, not one of them came close enough to reveal the things true color in the night.
Wait, night? Hadnt it just been
?
I felt a lump in my throat as I looked skyward, the shine of said spotlights clearly visible on the underside of what had to be the darkest clouds Id ever seen. They resembled a super cell to a tee, and for a few moments I honestly expected a funnel cloud to come down at any given instant. When no tornado appeared, however, worry turned to fascination. I looked all about, finding the ominous darkness not just above, but encircling the crater in the same fashion that its rim encircled the tower. It was clearly a blizzard, though not one Id ever imagined possible, rushing about the site like a protective bubble, shielding it from prying eyes no matter the altitude of the observer. A chill ran down my back as I realized even radar and infrared couldnt spot this place. The immense cold above combined with swarms of dense, icy particles made it practically invisible.
Think theyve got some manner of weather control? Rimsey whispered to me, uncertainty in his tone, Id much prefer if you told me Ive just gone mad.
Sorry. I found myself smiling, having just debunked the same thought, Hate to tell you, but I think were all perfectly sane around here. Koschev?
Not one of ours. the Russian whispered, apparently still in denial that someone could get something this big into his motherland and hide it so well. He turned to me with a frightened gaze, I speak the truth. I swear. This
this is
Impossible? I sighed, standing up to take a good look at the thing, I think we might just have to throw that word out the window for the time being. Weve got a steam engine that doesnt need coal, a train that drives itself, floating tracks, a perfect storm
guys, I dont know where to stop.
I dont think we need to. Rimsey remarked, looking at the boxcar behind us, We just need to know where to start.
Kirov. I answered, the Brit giving a solemn nod.
Yes. Koschevs expression soured, his eyes narrowing as he cracked his fists, The good doctor owes an explanation.
Agreed. I nodded with a smile, Especially you. Lets go get ourselves some answers.
Uh, gents. Rimsey called to attention, I think we might have to postpone that for a moment or two.
The reason became obvious literally the next second. With a rush of air, the transparent structure of the empty greenhouse stormed by, the train having entered the assembly. It quickly became apparent that the place wasnt as empty as it had first appeared. Below the free-floating tracks, hulking figures milled about with unknown purpose, though they were very clearly preparing something. Exactly what would have to remain a mystery for now, however. With a high-pitched squeal, the locomotives brakes took action, slowing the train with considerable quickness as we entered what looked more like a seaside loading dock than a train station.
It was little more than a large metal platform attached to the side of the tower, jutting from the wall like the dual spokes of a tuning fork. The rails filled the stations center gap, and an uncountable number of crates lay stacked all about in a strangely chaotic, yet at the same time very orderly pattern. Of course, that wasnt the weirdest part yet that came when the train had stopped and our little trio had made the decision to bolt from the back of the engine and into a thick pile of crates before anyone saw us.
Are those
? Rimsey gasped in disbelief as we watched the metal hulks go to work unloading the train.
Robots? I finished the sentence, Well, if theyre not, they sure look a whole lot like the ones all those futurists rave about.
It wasnt entirely accurate, of course. Still, at the time that was my best comparison. The metallic monstrosities stood at least two and a half meters tall, built more like gorillas than anything else. They looked heavy and armored, and the arms that resembled cannon barrels sure didnt make them look any friendlier. At their ends sat large, tri-fingered hands the machines used to grip the heavy crates and lift them as if they weighed no more than a few sacks of feathers. Their heads were even more impersonal. With no visible eyes, just a transparent-looking crimson strip instead, I didnt even have any idea what the machines were looking at and I wasnt willing to bet my personal well-being on the idea that any of them obeyed Asimovs robotic laws.
Now what? I whispered to Rimsey, the man giving me a helpless shrug in return.
Not a clue. I dont see Kirov anywhere.
Over here. Koschev hushed us over of the other side of the crate pile, At that gate. There he goes.
He was right. In the wall of the tower stood a wide-open gate large enough to let a fully packed truck through. At that very moment, the doctor sauntered lazily inside, not a care in the world in his demeanor. Id only caught a small glimpse, but Koschev affirmed it had been Kirov.
He spoke to one of the machines. the Russian told us, Something about the last pieces arriving soon and that they should be sent to his office on the top floor.
Then it looks like thats where were going. I declared, pulling my sidearm from my overcoat. With a satisfying click, I readied it to fire, and then returned it to the holster. I didnt really want to use it personally, I doubted itd have much effect against a robot in the first place but it felt good to know it was there and ready to be fire if things got desperate.
You dont have to go with me. I informed the two, But Im going up there and getting some answers.
The Russian and Brit only smiled condescendingly. We were all scared, but we knew we had a job to do. Indeed, when I took a moment to think about it, there really wasnt a time when our work wasnt scary. Just this time around, we were up against some unknown third party instead of one anothers respective agencies. When things got right down to it, was there really that much of a difference?
Yes. slipped out of my mouth, much to my embarrassment. But it was right. There was a difference here.
Yes what? Koschev questioned inquisitively.
Just came to a little realization. I snickered quietly, Maybe the enemy of my enemy wouldnt mind just being my friend without a common threat.
It was an answer worthy of a smirk. This time, however, there was no time to smile. With a heavy grind, the crates concealing us suddenly moved and ascended into the air in the powerful metal arms of a robotic duo. My heart jumped into my throat as the five of us just froze for a moment. I had no idea why they didnt move, holding the crates above their heads like that, but I could certainly think of several good reasons we didnt. I think Rimsey was the first to summon enough courage to speak up.
Run?
I gave a rapid nod of agreement, Run.
And so we ran. As if the cloven-hoofed prince of darkness himself licked right on our heels, we made a break for the gate
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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I wasnt sure what pulsed louder in my ears the hammering of my heart, or the dreadfully rhythmic stomp of metal feet behind us. Two of the hulking constructs had taken up pursuit of our impromptu infiltration unit, which now that I looked at it, wasnt serving the point well at all. The other machines might have ignored us and gone back to their duties, but the duo on our heels undoubtedly ruined the infiltration part of the term.
Enough of this! Koschev stopped with a snarl, prompting Rimsey and myself to do so as well, whirling about at the horror we expected any moment now.
The Russian had thrown open his overcoat, wearing a coverall-like suit underneath that held various belts and pockets useful for storing all sorts of munitions and miscellanies - just as the Brit and I that the equipment department affectionately called a stealth suit. It really was rather interesting just how much our agencies thought alike, the material even in almost the same shade of black as mine. But unlike me, Koschev didnt just carry a relatively low-powered sidearm for emergencies, instead producing a pair of massive pistols that I wouldve trusted to threaten anything short of an armored vehicle. Sadly, the mechanical duo resembled just that to a tee.
The KGB agent, however, seemed less impressed of their bulk, whipping himself about and unloading on the two with cacophonous thunder, blasting bullet after bullet their way in the fashion that could only have come from a semi-automatic.
Still, things didnt become any happier. As Id expected yet hoped against, what looked like armor plating was just that, or at least served such a function. Koschevs heavy rounds clattered off with no visible harm, ricocheting uselessly against the metal walls of the corridor. After that, we didnt even need to ask the Russian whirled back about, eyes wide and swearing like a proverbial waterfall of curses, the man re-joining us in our mad dash as quickly as his legs would allow. The robotic duo, though perturbed for a few moments, didnt hesitate to take up pursuit again, the rhythmic stomp of their feet against the floor recommencing to hound my ears much quicker than Id hoped for.
I nearly panicked. What were we supposed to do now? The corridor curved on and on, the suspicion that wed entered into a ring of some sort growing with every moment spent running, a nagging feeling of desperation starting to climb the ladder of my insides.
Then I saw the arrow.
It wasnt much, just an arrow of luminescent green draped crosswise though the corridor, dim light slowly pulsing about its edges from tail to head. What actually caught my attention were the openings at both of the symbols ends, clearly open doors set into the walls. My spirits rose even further as I realized that each access was truly two, which meant there were in truth four ways. Where they led I knew not, but at that point I couldnt have cared less so long as it wasnt this damned corridor.
There! I shouted to the others, throwing an arm out ahead to indicate what I meant, the two not taking long to get the idea. Agreeing nods preceded redoubled efforts, our motley trio making a last-ditch dash for the quartet of unsealed doors.
What the-? came a surprised gasp from my side, Rimsey capturing my current thoughts in virtually perfect words, Theres no bloody floor!
Indeed there wasnt. Every one of the four entryways seemed to be an elevator under construction a circular shaft of metal that stretched neatly up and down. Even the rear of these shafts bore arrows, the duo to my left pointing down while the signs at my right indicated up. There wasnt a cabin in sight. Just empty tubes. Nothing else.
Climb. I told them my decision, indicating a spot of light above us in one of the right-hand pipes, Theres another opening up there. We just have to reach it.
Why not down? the Russian wanted to know, thumbing hastily at the other side of the corridor, We dont want to get out of here?
And freeze? I countered his inquisition, vigorously shaking my head, No thanks. Without our coats, we wouldnt last the night. Not to mention Im pretty sure if we got out, those monstrosities would just keep coming after us. No, were going up. Were going after Kirov, just like we said.
The two gave no audible response, but I could see they were with me. Without hesitating another moment (the approaching hulks of metal were a better motivation than falling), I lunged into the shaft in an attempt to get a hold of something and begin my climb. Fat chance of that.
My bowels nearly evacuated as something unseen grabbed me from below, the sudden mixture of vertigo and blatant nausea threatening to overwhelm my senses. Interestingly enough, the fear that gripped me that same moment spurred me into several savage attempts to grab the sides of the shaft, going so far as to cause my arms and legs to flail about like windmills, my body performing the motions of a swimmer gone mad in nothing but thing air. It took me a few second to realize I wasnt exactly falling, or actually going anywhere for that matter, but the invisible force instead lifted my form up and away from the door Id jumped into. I wasnt quite sure which explanation would make me feel any better about this that I was falling up or that gravity in this shaft performed a headstand and frankly I doubted that either would, but I was reasonably glad to not be tumbling to my doom right about now.
Shouting down to the others, who at that point stuck their heads quizzically into the shaft, I somewhat convinced them to half-heartedly take the leap of faith. Rimsey and Koschev floated up subsequent to me not long afterward, and I wasnt sure who behaved more comically; the pirouetting Brit or the somersaulting Russian. All I knew was that they seemed to have established a cursing contest with an impressive vocabulary. Somehow, I even admired that at this point. I knew quite well that I wouldve rather sworn than almost have my stomach revolt. Even more to my delight than the fact that I hadnt was the sudden crunch from below, a characteristic sound of metal upon metal. I triumphed as I saw the robots were too large to fit though the doors.
Glad thats over. Rimsey wiped the sweat from his forehead with a relieved sigh, watching as I did the slowly passing entries to other floors, For now, in any case. So then, still top floor?
Still top floor. I answered decisively, though my voice still shook a little, Im going to tear Kirov a new one for this.
Not before me! Koschev threw his demands into the conversation, If anyone gets to cream the crazy man here, Id like the first shot if you please.
I smiled. Those two certainly recovered quicker than I did. Good thing, too. Still, had I any idea what awaited us in Kirovs office at that time, I couldve told them it wasnt nearly enough...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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The door hissed open like something straight out of Star Trek, with the exception that nobody had bothered to paint the material. Or if someone had, theyd chosen a hue so metallic and silver-gray it created a blur to the very alike surrounding wall. Beyond the door, the scene didnt differ much. What wed expected to find as an office seemed to be nothing more than a drab, rectangular chamber that stood longer than wide. A few of the crates wed seen at the train terminal sat here and there, but only a few had been unpacked.
Still under construction Id wager. Rimsey remarked, passing a palm over the crate closest to him, Feels like plastic. Probably airtight.
I made my agreement known with but an agreeing nod. Pistol securely between both of my hands, I treaded cautiously as we made our way to the far wall, my reasoning that there might sit a door in there having taken hold in the Russian and Brit as well. Still, my eyes couldnt help but wander, stopping time and again at the curious holes in wall and ceiling. Most werent very large, though a couple had enough space in them to squeeze an elephant through. Arranged in a seemingly random fashion, utterly no pattern of placement that we could make out, the rooms semblance to a block of Swiss cheese stood out as its second-largest mystery.
The first was the statue.
Okay, seriously. Koschevs brow furrowed as he beheld the carving, What is it with this thing? Why does he carry it everywhere?
Hed taken the words right out of my mouth. The statue was the very same one Kirov had taken on board the train. It depicted a dragon, though in my opinion, quite crudely as a quadruped that stood about the size of a large dog, maybe a Great Dane. The sculptor hadnt even bothered to give it any horns or ridges down its back, and the curves of the face seemed just unnaturally smooth to me. In addition, the sculptures four feet had been given only three clawed toes. I knew Chinese dragons had at least four, and I was fairly sure the ones in European folklore had no less. Maybe that was it? Could a dragon statue missing toes really be a good-luck charm?
Ah, gentlemen! a loud, burly voice snapped me from my thoughts, causing me to whirl about in its general direction. I instantly recognized it as Dr. Kirovs, and was by no means surprised to see him as the source. However, the fact that he spoke from behind the far wall, which had had the gall to become fully transparent while wed been staring at the sculpture, was indeed unexpected.
It is so very good to see you. the bulky man continued, chuckling jovially within his snow-white lab coat as he snapped his fingers, resulting in hidden machinery drawing the newly see-through wall into the ceiling, I had already feared you might have given in. Glad to see me stand corrected.
Im so very happy for you. I sneered, not giving him the benefit of a doubt. My pistols barrel aligned smoothly with his head, Now spill it already. What is all this?
I call it a Labtower. Kirovs smile broadened visibly despite the thickness of his beard, I know, I know, its not much to look at yet. The tree makes all the difference, trust me.
My answer was but a blank, silent stare. I didnt even bother to ask what tree. I had a feeling the answer wouldnt help me much, and I could clearly see Rimsey and Koschev trailed along the same lines of thought.
Gesundheit. I muttered as a quick sneeze reached my ears, assuming one of them had been the source. I didnt even notice neither gave retort in confirmation or denial, focused too intently on finding a question in the form of the function that would make the Slavic oddball standing across from us tell us what we wanted to know.
Allow me. he went on before I could complete this task, My guess is the following: you are wondering where you are, what purpose this structure serves, if those constructs you ran into earlier are truly robots, how falling upward is possible, who I really am, if I work for someone else, and if so whom, and just what the deal here is with all of it. Unless I am forgetting something
am I?
No, you pretty much summed it up there. Rimseys head bobbed vertically, his weapons aim not wavering either, Are you a mind reader?
Do not be silly. came the answer as the doctor reached toward the inside of his lab coat, I merely have
Stop! I warned him with a firm shout, thrusting my pistol ahead a bit further, Cmon now, dont do anything stupid!
Perish the thought. Kirov replied, continuing with the motion after hed frozen for a moment or two, I merely wish to show you what
At that moment, my fears came to life. Without warning, the room exploded with a sound of thunder.
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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I could practically feel my wide-open eyes bulge from my head, the scene before me having somersaulted with such terrible speed that I had trouble assimilating what had actually happened. Kirov lay motionless on the floor, sprawled back in a haphazard fashion, the mans brains staining the metal plating behind the doctors head with a sickening puddle of fluids that slowly spread its crimson tint. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Seconds became minutes, my mind only slowly wrapping itself around the sight of Koschevs smoking gun deadlocked in its firing position. Had I not been sure the holes sat in Kirovs forehead, the Russian may as well have had a death grip on the heavy pistol, his fingers cramped about the weapon in a frightening manner.
I
he started, his speech coming in an unsteady stutter, the agent looking to Rimsey and me nervously as we lowered our weapons in perception of the new situation, I
I panicked.
Yeah, I figured as much. another voice gave a reply most sudden and unexpected, the three of us having believed ourselves to now be all in the room, That was pretty unexpected.
Wed of course already found the source of the voice. But if I had trouble to wrap my mind around the shot dead doctor, then I had some real issues with a talking statue. Make that a talking, breathing, and most certainly moving statue. Our pistols whipped back up almost immediately.
Something slap the speech out of you? the dragonesque sculpture that clearly wasnt one mocked us in a soft, amiable tone as it stepped off its pedestal with motions that reminded me of a tiger circling its prey. If this thing was anamatronic, then the architect had certainly outdone anything Id seen before, the counterfeit statue sliding past us with downright fluid grace, bones and muscle visibly rippling beneath the stony exterior as clawed feet clacked across the floor, Yes, youre quite correct. I am not a statue. And no, Im not a mind reader either. I just happen to have access to an excessively powerful calculator, which in turn allows me a good guess at predicting your actions.
Although, the phony sculpture sighed with a look at the fallen Kirov, its saurian head turning to the three of us again, it would seem Ive still got much too little information about you to predict everything. Now then, I do believe thats enough of me just blathering on. No doubt youd like some answers.
Yes please. Rimsey inserted a weak nod into his stare of disbelief, which likely didnt look all that different from my own at that point. However, I like to think I was the first to catch myself.
Id like to start with the dead man on the floor. I demanded forcefully, shoving my gun ahead a bit further, wanting to indicate that I aimed squarely at the creatures head, You were controlling him, werent you?
Yes and no. the creature returned with a chuckle and a grin so toothy it sent chills down my spine. Only now did I even realize its maw stood filled to the brim with what Id imagine the teeth of a shark looked like adapted to a snake, First, that is not a man. It is the biological cocoon mask of a Vario unit. Yes, its a live well, at least it was until you shot it but more in the sense of an amoeba than anything else. The mechanical core is quite unharmed. And second, Im afraid youve been chasing a phantom. Dr. Alexei Kirov is my humble person. Of course, thats just an alias. If you find any comfort in it, please feel free to call me Vern.
I am not buying this. the Russian snorted through his nostrils, drawing the hammer back, I do not suppose you have any proof?
None youd believe if youre so thoroughly convinced Im telling you a fairy tale. Vern smirked good-naturedly, But if youd just like to shoot me, youre welcome to try. Youre not going to succeed, I can tell you that much. However, if youd like to keep an open mind, have a look for yourself.
With the sickening sound of rending flesh, the corpses chest cavity ripped open form one moment to the other, shirt, skin, muscle, and bone tearing wide open as a shining silver cylinder roughly half a meter long and not a fifth as wide extracted itself from the body in a gradual hover, held in the air by ghostly hand.
This is the Vario unit. Vern explained slowly, clearly taking into account that we needed a little time to absorb the scene as the cylinder extended first its uppermost portion at the end of a long, telescopic neck, and then followed this up by deploying a pair of spindly arms and legs from miniscule openings in its casing, eventually forming a full humanoid complete with fingers and toes that greeted us with a friendly wave of the hand form its forehead. I almost expected it to tell us, Top of the morning, but the machine remained silent.
Glad to see youre being reasonable. the creature remarked with a slight shrug of its wings as Koschev lowered his gun, Rimsey and I following the Russians example. Even if we hadnt now been able to see the body sans robotic core sat essentially as nothing but a nearly empty organic shell, the fact that Vern had spoken true about the Varios identity probably meant our guns wouldnt have been of much use either, I guess I better start off with the general who, where, when, how, why. Acceptable, yes? Good.
His full name was Sabre Vern, although in his culture the last came first, much like in Japan. He called himself a Krayten, and told us not to worry about where hed come from. Supposedly, we hadnt even discovered his home system yet. Surprisingly, him being extraterrestrial in nature didnt throw me much for a spin at all. From what I could tell, neither did it Rimsey and Koschev. I chalked it up to the general plethora of non-normal things wed already seen having overwhelmed our respective astonishment meters. I stood willing to be that more than likely, from here on out things would just be taken at face value, no matter how weird they got.
The Labtower certainly qualified there. According to Vern, we were currently just above the Kamchatka peninsula, deep within the mountains of the Koryak Range. Unlike my previous suspicions, the depression the structure sat in wasnt a crater that had formed from its impact, but rather only an oddly shaped valley. The Labtower had been constructed on Earth, or Terra, as Vern kept referring to the planet as, and although the materials used to assemble it stemmed form other worlds, the structure itself had not made any sort of planetfall. I admit, at this point in time, taking things at face value became harder and harder. Just the terms this being used parsecs, stellar routes, other civilizations, planetfall, hyperspace and associated paradimensional physics they were a bit much to take in.
Indeed, that seemed to be the reason Vern had adopted the persona of Alexei Kirov to begin with. With the doctors appearance and the company General Cosmic to his name, the alien had been able to move around freely on our world for the past two years now, all the while using his human alias to forge connections with men of science and business alike and he hadnt limited himself there. From what I could filter out of the conversation, hed slipped his claws into just about everything human society ran on, observing and studying us closely, learning from every little bit that we took for granted. In addition, just to be sure he could react to anything unexpected (which according to him had happened rather often; he even called us humans weird in numerous occasions), hed disguised himself as Dr. Kirovs good luck charm whenever the situation necessitated his alter ego making a public appearance. I almost couldnt believe hed just coated himself with a fine powder, and that had been that. Id expected a much more complex and otherworldly method of camouflage. However, as grand as the whole scheme already loomed, nothing could have prepared me for the last of the five: why.
End Report Agent Dietrich
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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Oh, thats really very simple. the quadruped told the gathered trio with a light smirk, somewhat amused at the question, With all this detective work youve been doing, frankly Im surprised none of you figured it out.
I am sure that from your point of view, the situation is a great deal more transparent, Rimsey replied as he crossed his arms, sweeping his right hand about in a way that conveyed a request for elaboration, but Im afraid we lack the general oversight of this whole scheme. So I think well change gears to something more specific: Why us? Not humanity, just the three of us. Why this elaborate riddle, the hidden clues? I mean, youd have to have been rather knowledgeable of us to conduct the arrangement of a railroad yard in Morse code. You knew it would lead us here. Why?
Because I needed you. Vern answered cryptically, hopping onto a crate to more closely approach the eye level of the humans. The reptilians wings seemed superfluous at this point, prescribing only a twitch of motion while the rest of the Krayten moved akin to a tiger, You people have a saying: good help is hard to find. I agree. So does the rest of my organization. I hope Ive just found some. Youre certainly qualified.
Im not following. Dietrich scratched his head in thought, looking somewhat confusedly at his fellow agents, What exactly is it you needed us to
I am offering you a job. the quadruped pre-empted the man from the NSA, Look, its fairly simple. You guys are agents of your respective governments. Spies, for short. Youd lay down your lives for your lands, your people so doesnt it seem kind of silly to you to be doing so to one another? This whole Cold War business is just stupid, wouldnt you agree? Mutually Assured Destruction, hm? Well the mad acronym certainly fits there because thats what it is. Its just plain crazy.
This is true. Koschev admitted with a depressed sigh, and the other two couldnt help but snatch up some of the Russians glumness, Neither side wishes it, but both prepare. However, that is why people such as us stand by our lands. That is what we work to prevent by gathering information to maintain the status quo until a solution is found.
I think I picked right. Vern smiled broadly in response, and this time his mouthful of predatory teeth didnt even cause a reaction anymore. The agents had become acquainted with his appearance very quickly indeed; another good mark for them, You like your jobs. You do them because you feel it is necessary. But you also know the status quo cannot be maintained forever. Sooner or later, something will set it all off. I wont lie to you: my appearance could be one.
The operatives only nodded silently. They were certainly intelligent enough to imagine a table of consequences that could come from public contact at this time. The Krayten even elaborated further, Where I come from, we have a rule: dont make contact with less advanced civilizations. No offense guys, but its the truth. There are three categories: technology, social evolution, and breadth of thought. Meet one, and technically Id be allowed to make this official. Now, youre really, really close to the first one. Another fifty years maybe, and you could be a full-fledged interstellar people. But its not going to happen if you blow yourselves up and you will unless you manage to catch your level of social evolution here up with that of your technology. Thinking on a cosmic scale would of course be best, and thats the ultimate idea here. A friend of mine thinks its likely, but Ill be satisfied with anything I can get right now. Be that as it may, not only does said little rule prevent me from just going ahead with things, but I also lack the insight necessary to do so; and I dont have the time to acquire it. Theres a war going on. A big one.
Cosmic scale? Rimsey asked somewhat timidly, the idea of that that actually meant sinking in, not to mention putting two and two together as things came down to what the reptilians proposal entailed.
Cosmic scale. Vern confirmed with his version of a nod, a slight downward bob of his head, Whole solar systems are among the casualties. But thats for later, if we succeed here. Guys, I need your help. You believe your work is helping, right? Of course you do, otherwise you wouldnt be doing them. Thats just the sort you three are. And thats what I need. Thats what your people need. I want you to work for me from now on. All the Labtowers means will be at your disposal. Teach your people. Stop this insanity. And see if you can get them thinking about things a little larger than their own greed sometime.
The three stood silent for some time. Like the Brit, the others had puzzled together where this was going, but not quite managed to process it by the time the quadruped got there. Dietrich was the first to respond, inquiring with a somewhat disbelieving, Youre serious? Youre actually serious about this?
I am. Vern answered, the reptilians tone leaving no question he wasnt kidding around, I think youre the kind of people I can trust with such a task. You know what needs to be done, and at what pace. You know your world needs changing, but that this change cant happen overnight. Youre smart, loyal to your people, and youve got good intentions. Why do you think only you three made it here? The clues I left just about pre-qualified you. So, what do you say?
Well, what exactly is it you want us to do? Rimsey wanted to know.
Anything. came the answer, Everything. As I said, the Labtower is at your disposal. Use its means how you see fit. If you want to make good on Reagans, Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall! then do it. You will have the capability. Youll have to be smart about it, but I think that shouldnt be a problem. So, gentlemen: in our out?
In. the three said almost in unison, stepping forward with outstretched hands. Needless to say, this turned into a very awkward situation the next second, the arms of three humans reaching forward to shake the hand of a being that didnt have any hands.
General Cosmic Incorporated welcomes you aboard. Vern nodded with a smile, balancing on his left foreleg to extend his right one, and so the oddest handshake in the history of mankind came to be.
Feels weird. Rimsey remarked as he inspected the loose powder on his hand, a little of the stuff having rubbed off the reptilians claws in the gesture. However, all stood clear on the fact that he hadnt meant the residue.
Every time. the Krayten chuckled good-naturedly as he stepped off his crate again and began heading toward the door, Youd be surprised how odd you feel to me, all squishy and such. Dont worry about it. Now, shall we get to work? Im going to take you to the mainframe so you can familiarize yourselves with the Labtower, which I suggest you dont do all at once, and then
One more thing. Dietrich stopped the reptilian with his interjection, Vern curiously turning his head back to find out what the American wanted, Evan Collins. Pleasure to make everyones acquaintance.
Verns eyes widened slightly as the Brit and Russian joined in with their partner-in-crime, introducing themselves as Warren Gedrave and Pavel Sergeievich Fedoseev, allowing himself a remark on the subject, Hm
didnt expect that. Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me, actually
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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Several hours later, all had been said and done. The three former government agents knew what they needed to. Now the decisions lay soundly in their hands. Vern could only hope for the best. Come what may, however, General Cosmic had gained hold in yet another system, so at least there now existed a third party with the intent and capability to ensure humanitys continued survival. If diplomacy and manipulation failed, the Kraytens new employees could still resort to means capable of affecting their entire world in covert fashion, needless to say. The most important was likely the field that bound free neutrons. No free neutrons, no nuclear fission. The ramifications of this stood self-evident.
Target altitude reached. the cold, synthetic voice of the autopilot dispersed the quadrupeds musings, Requesting new course.
Vern shifted about uneasily in his seat. It may have been a form-fitting model, but the cockpit of the fighter-class starship had still been designed for bipeds. For one such as him, there wasnt much room, even in a two-seater. Still, everything was within reach, the touchscreens representing everything from flight instruments to sophisticated navigation interfaces glowing dimly and steadily against the starfield visible through the mostly transparent canopy. Below stretched the sphere of blue that was Terra, and though it couldnt compare to his homeworld, the Krayten couldnt help but marvel at this small and fragile worlds own brand of beauty. Humans were a lucky bunch. He truly hoped they stayed lucky.
He let the claws of one foreleg tap gently against the monitors, making sure to steady himself with the other as he set the new course. It didnt take long for the starfield to shift, the planet below falling away within mere moments as the craft accelerated into the cold and lonely reaches of space. Vern didnt like to be alone. His people didnt either. This was one reason hed arrived with a colleague. The second had been to introduce said associate to a Terran environment. The Krayten had to admit, the latter had provided him with a great deal of entertainment. Everything had been too cold (well, except the equatorial regions), gravity had been wonky, as had atmospheric pressure, and liquid water was just too plain weird a substance for pitys sake, its solid phase floated within the stuff! No thermal convection to blame, no differentiating material properties to look to for help. Water just didnt conform any way one chose to twist it.
Nonetheless, Verns colleague had eventually adapted, and even found some fun in it all. The Chief issuing his recall couldnt have come at a worse time. But as the Krayten had told the human trio, the galaxy was at war. The guy simply happened to hold the skills of a natural assassin, and therefore that had been his assignment. Another target had been identified, and so out went the call. It was simply the way things worked right now, whether the quadruped liked it or not.
And he very much didnt.
There had to be another way. If things went on as they did at present, there wouldnt be much left of the galaxy, even if they won by some incredible chance. They stood outnumbered and outgunned, and even the Chiefs tremendous organizational skill couldnt bridge that gap for much longer. Something had to change, and it had to do so soon. General Cosmic was a start. But it wasnt enough, and Vern knew this well. Future allies did little good if the future came to pass as nothing but a barren waste. One way or another, an alteration was a necessity. Of course, first it would come different, and second than one would expect. But then, these things always did...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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Well, that's it for General Cosmic Inc. I have to say, I'm rather enjoying translating my old works, as it's forcing me to go over them again, which can be pretty fun.
I do hope at least the people who poked me to do this in the first place are reading this. Haven't received any feedback, so I've no idea. In any case, I hope anyone viewing this has enjoyed reading this at least as much as I have writing it, if not more.
So enough of me blathering on, let's get back to the story.
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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Taken within the context of the most general, the planet known as Perus could have been considered a rather average world. Smoothly orbiting the warm blue star it called home, this little rock among so many others was often thought of as just that. It was not a world of extremes, nor did its ecosystem hold any manner of the extraordinarily pleasurable or dangerous. Indeed, the world was much like Terra in a great many respects; oceans of liquid water covered a respectable portion of its surface (though the generally warmer climate and slightly higher gravity than that of Perus remotely located cousin conspired to keep them from more than half), and vegetation that thrived on photosynthesis had become the norm over the planets long-standing developmental period. A slight axial tilt created latitudal climates and seasons, and a decent spin rate allowed the terminator to wander with a gradual, yet at the same time speedy enough pace to keep the atmosphere in motion without generating the vicious twilight storms so common on many worlds.
Yet despite this amiable environment, which had brought about a staggeringly diverse collection of flora and fauna, Perus had failed to produce intelligent life. While this was not surprising, it had certainly created an opportunity for those who had settled here a few millennia ago. As with a good many worlds in the galactic northside, Arcon colonists had made this little jewel their home. Soon, others had joined them, and it hadnt taken long at all for Perus to become a center of cultural and monetary exchange, home to more species than the annual census could keep up with. Even now, while war raged in many sectors of the Milkey Way, and the faction known as the Concile of Seven had laid claim to this world, Perus remained largely untouched. Planetary defense forts, satellites, and most of all the feared SVE ships of the Concile, shored up such an amount of firepower and defensive capability in one place that the devil himself might have reconsidered starting something here. Gunnery platforms high above the atmosphere, often kilometers in size, stood linked with an uncountable number of independent sensor satellites, forming a network of detection no ship could penetrate.
Yet this day, all these protections could amount to naught, and Concile forces knew it. A clan patriarch of the Galactic Merchant Nation, or simply Mernas, as their people had become known, would firmly cement the alliance of his kin and the Concile, a gesture of gratitude for the restoration of their trade monopoly. Lost ages ago, there wasnt a single Merna that had lost sight of their once-almighty mercantile privileges, and didnt consider just such still the birthright of their people. Competition stood equivalent to sacrilege, and a market not under their firm control was wickedness in its purest form. Too long had they suffered under the oppressive will of so many other people, those that would deny them their divine right. With the advent of the Concile, this all had finally changed, and their gratitude knew no bounds. They would serve loyally forevermore or at least until a better business proposition arrived. Since this was nowhere in sight of course (the Concile made deftly sure of that), this new ally was all but guaranteed.
At least so long as the traditional ceremonies went well. Assassins would be all about, and Concile forces knew this as well. SVE ships hung about the planet like gargantuan Christmas ornaments of metallic gold, and every scanner, sensor, listener, and telescope available watched the skies with a wary eye. Checkpoints both in orbit and on the surface had to clear anyone within many a kilometer of the ceremonies, and registry of presence was an absolute must. Still, they would try. This was a fact.
The security system was perfect. The people running it were not and this was the reason that one tiny object, no more than a cubic centimeter in total volume, could enter Perus atmosphere completely unheeded. A small speck of stone and metal, a tiny meteor against the vastness of the sky, the same sort that came and went every moment of every day, plummeting toward the surface only to vaporize upon descent.
This one would not.
Death by micrometeor. Has to be my best idea yet.
These were the thoughts of an assassin. One of many of course, but probably the oddest of the bunch. Several kilometers from the site of his deed, a cerulean-scaled reptilian lounged comfortably in one of the many seats about the main holodisplay of the hotels sky lobby. Even up here, things were crowded and busy, and so many creatures sat, stood, or just generally hung about the live transmission of the ceremony. The assassin didnt even want to know how things looked in the lobby at ground level. No, this would do just fine. The assassins clawed hands fished a rather ordinary datapad from the slate-gray robes that clothed him like the vestments of a monk whod embraced technology, and as his fingers tapped upon a copy of the daily economic report, the pads touchscreen conveyed the signals needed to do his job.
The assassin watched listlessly as another blazing beam lanced into the holographic crowd, the local audience scattering frantically as Concile and Merna security personnel removed the charred corpse of the sixth would-be hitman. This one had apparently carried a rifle of some sort. How uncreative, not to mention stupid. However, the assassin had to admit hed had skill. Smuggling a weapon that large into such a secure area was a feat to be respected. Too bad hed moved too early. The clan patriarch a large, bulky humanoid a little less than two meters in height, yet almost as wide had just been in the process of stepping to the podium. It would have been smarter to wait until the festively clothed man had reached his final position. For a moment, the assassin admired the intricate twists and turns of the patriarchs nearly fire-red beard and mane, his aged face looking rather small thanks to the sheer volume of hair that so artistically surrounded his visage.
His hand reached to the scalp of his own head, clawed fingers feeling the spikes that ran from the bridge of his saurian skull to the base of his neck, and on down his back and tail. From a centimeter to half a human finger in length, they were probably the most annoying part of his disguise. Well, next to the scales, at least. He couldnt stand those they were heavy, itchy, and they didnt breathe in the least. Hed be very happy indeed once this whole thing stood done and over with.
Heed now the words
the hologram conveyed, the last pieces of traditional presentation being spoken, and this the assassin took as cue to move. With a final tap upon the touchscreen of his datapad, the command raced through an uncountable number of relays, adjusting the synthetic micrometeorites course to send it screaming right through the patriarchs forehead, brain, out the back, and into the recording equipment behind the man. By the time the false space rock impacted the ground, the clan leader had already transcended his mortal coil. Shouts and panic arose all about, here as well as in the hologram, alarm seizing the crowds with clutches of madness before the patriarchs body had even hit the floor.
Now came the time to move. The assassin knew he could use as many relays as he wished; theyd still track his control signal eventually. Not being one to underestimate his opponent, he gave them about a minute.
My humble apologies, most respected trader. he told the Merna hed literally bumped into at the sky lobbys eastern entryway, bowing deeply as he spoke.
Get lost! the burly man replied with a gruff growl, batting the reptilian away with a forceful swipe of his rather large hand, causing the assassin to tumble to the floor, And fast. Next time Ill break you in half.
My thanks for your mercy, oh profitable one. he stammered hastily, taking a few quick bows as he hastily slinked away. With a toothy smile upon his saurian visage, though only for a moment, the assassin made his way to the nearest elevator. Even the jeers of other Mernas just brushed from him coldly, the assassin knowing well he had no time to deal with them now. His only objective at present was to get as great a distance from his datapad as possible.
Thankfully, hed have some help on that matter.
There he is! came a shout as a whole troop of security personnel stormed from the elevator hed hailed, Take him down!
Rifles and sidearms at the ready, the small mob burst from the cabin and nearly trampled the reptilian, throwing themselves upon the Merna hed collided with. Angered roars and curses most colorful echoed from the lobby as the mans fellow merchants began a hefty bar brawl almost immediately. The assassin allowed himself another smile, the closing slit of the ornately crafted elevator doors allowing him just the view hed wished to see a particular, not to mention very maddened Merna grappling with Concile security while a rather incriminating datapad fell from one of his many large pockets in the struggle...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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The assassins clawed feet clacked with report upon the slabs of polished white stone that served as the hotels front steps as he strode from the towering transparent doors of the enormous spires ground-level lobby, his slate-gray vestments sliding softly over the elegant lattice that connected entrance and what could have been called a street. People walked there, at least. Of course people also slid, rolled, hovered, and performed many other forms of locomotion, but the wide path of floarally cultivated ground had been intended mainly for those that walked, and there were quite a few more of them, allowing the assassin to easily slip into the crowd.
The azure-scaled reptilians form met chiefly with gazes of arrogance and ire the Arcon had never been too fond of xenomorphs, and their cultural imprint had certainly stuck around even after they were no longer the only inhabitants of this world but this wasnt necessarily a bad thing at this point. Indeed, this circumstance allowed the assassin to make swift progress across the street, to the contact terminal that signified the location of a hoverplat docking site. A few taps upon the touchscreen monitor, and the terminal already hailed the glider hed given to it earlier, fishing the vehicle first from its registry and then a garage below ground. It didnt take eight seconds for the sleek ellipsoid with a transparent canopy to arrive, the aerial craft settling softly into a hover beside the interface console. A quick acceptance conformation later, the terminal relinquished control of the glider once more, and the assassin boarded his vehicle through a hatch that had opened in its side. Settling into the frontmost of the gliders three seats, the reptilians claws now ran over the gliders interface touchscreens instead, and moments later the hatch closed and sealed, the canopys transparence vanished into metallic opacity, and the vehicles engines hummed to life, pulsing its supporting fields at the ground to shoot skyward like it had so many times before.
Not ten seconds later, the lobby doors already disgorged a heavily armed mob of security personnel into the street, who in turn began to question anything and everything that could speak or provide some other rapid means of communicating information to them, including of course the terminal of the hoverplat docking site. The machine kept records after all, and accessing these wasnt much trouble, especially for those trained to do so. Transmissions rang out into the aether of channels that crisscrossed the planet, and it didnt take long at all for several military gliders to arrive, then take up pursuit of the one that had left not long ago.
Not that the assassin particularly cared. He presently watched the scene from a virtually empty side street not far away, absent-mindedly leaning with his back to the wall of some other reflective spire while his yellow, slitted eyes gazed at the commotion on the main path from under a hood of the same hue as the rest of his robes.
The assassin was a teleporter; able to displace himself from one location to another without need to physically cross the space between the two by sheer force of will. Indeed, he didnt require any sort of crossing at all, hyperspace being the medium of choice for his explicit method of teleportation. All it necessitated was a good amount of concentration (tearing apart ones own body to shunt it beyond space and time, then putting it back together again wasnt exactly easy, after all) and nothing in the way, like a gravostorm of something of equally nasty nature.
Standing there, he surmised itd take them a reasonable amount of minutes to catch up the glider hed sent on a downright ludicrous course through the city via automatic pilot. Still, it was always better to stay more than just one step ahead of the game, and as he had no doubt the energetic remains of his jump would eventually be pinned down once the right equipment (or people) got here, the assassin chose to move in conventional fashion once more. With any luck at all, hed have made way to the extraction point with time to spare, long before anyone even had a concrete idea of what had actually happened.
Hold it right there.
Or maybe luck just wasnt something in his favor today.
Dont even think about it. commanded the gruff, somewhat warbled voice of a black-skinned humanoid in equal-hued uniform and with some manner of breath or flight mask wrapped about his face from nose bridge to jaw line. Another detail that stood out was of course the rather threatening rifle presently pointed toward the reptilian one of a group of five, to be precise and the few meters distance between the two beings did little to affect this. The assassin had no doubt the man and his compatriots would fire without hesitation if they felt it necessary in any way, shape, or form.
Im sorry, but Im afraid thats just not in me. the azure-scaled creature replied with a smirk of his predatory teeth, moving aside a fold of his robes to reveal a rather strange weapon dangling from the belt about his waist. The Concile soldiers nearly bright-orange eyebrows furrowed as they tried to comprehend the significance of the sizeable sword the reptilian now lay claws on, Its simply in my nature to defend my being. I simply cant go against my nature, you must understand.
What nature would that be? the man directly opposite the assassin questioned as the latter leveled the blade at the group, Suicidal tendencies? You know well shoot before you can even take a single step.
No. the assassin countered calmly, shaking his head with supporting slow pace, No, I really dont think you will. Go ahead, give it a try.
Not a one moved.
Something the matter? the azure-scaled being chuckled at the silence of the Concile security force, the black-skinned forces malachite eyes darting wildly about in their sockets. Their bodies sat frozen as statues, even their lips unmoving as stone, I do apologize. Seems to happen every time I point this thing at someone. Paralyzer field, you know.
The lead soldiers eyes went wide with shock, as if they might depart their sockets the very next moment, then narrowed in frustration. Theyd fallen for the archaic guise of the debilitating weapon without a second thought. Had he been able to speak at this point, language most deafening and vividly vulgar would have likely consumed the general area entirely.
Youll be fine in a few hours. the assassin chided the five as he returned the false sword to its proper place, striding by the team as if it could have been the most natural thing in the world, Do excuse my discourtesy for not hanging around, but I do have a ship to catch.
This was of course a lie. Hopefully though, the soldiers whod soon locate this man and his team would believe and pounce in the classic direction of locking down the spaceports, then private spacecraft, and so on and so forth. If this went according to plan, the assassin would be leaving Perus without so much as a single soul aware until it was simply much too late to do anything to prevent it. Or at least, so hed hoped.
There he is! rang a shout through the air, followed on foot by the thunderous blare of a thermocannon, the bright-orange beam hissing viciously into the fleck of street the assassin had just occupied. Of course, the jump wouldnt throw them off for long, and considering the gallingly short amount of time it had taken them the first time, the assassin had no doubt theyd be on top of him again in nearly no time at all. Stepping from the shadows of spire hed jumped behind, the reptilian drew his sword once more, gazing at his reflection within the blade; first with melancholy, then with disgust. How had he let Vern talk him into this in the first place?
Logic thats how. Now show the guy you remember what he taught you.
The azure-scaled assassin tightened his clawed grip about the hilt of his weapon of deception, regarding well the environment that now surrounded him. With a glance at the chronometer that wrapped about his left wrist, he locked the chosen escape route in his mind. It wouldnt be easy, but itd certainly be the fastest and by the looks of the Concile forces now amassing here, there, and soon everywhere, there wasnt any doubt that speed was now of paramount importance. The reptilian being drew a deep breath, regarding the concealing shadows one more time, then sprang forward and into the crowds, sending the masses into uproar before he jumped yet again. This time, however, he immediately returned to his previous position in the throng of people, continuing his escape on foot. If the Conciles lackeys fell for this, itd buy him a rather decent amount of time. If not, things could get very painful very quickly. He could only hope the officer on duty at the moment wasnt someone with more brains than usual...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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Foreword:
), I have lo and behold, against my better judgment thrown rationality out the window (don't worry, he'll be fine - I do this to him all the time) and will be going ahead with the story that I realized a little while ago doesn't actually have a name yet.
Due to the somewhat disconcerting conspiracy of factors outside of my direct circle of control (such as people poking me, time off, and being bitten by the writing bug...again
So in lieu of a title or name, allow me to suggest the character of this work by simply calling it what it is: a big amalgamation of amalgamated blurbs correlating within and without in the same general chronology of happening.
As this is rather large, translating this whole thing may take months, even years, and this thread may in not a long while grow very long indeed. But as I wish for the continued well being of my own tail (i.e. not to be bitten by Essex or other potential candidates) I have decided that we shall simply cross that bridge when we come to it.
Thus being, readers might at first find themselves somewhat estranged as what would generally classified as a futuristic sci-fi tale begins in the dark and dreary past of what is and what might have been had things not been as they were. But this verbiage veers most verbose, and so let me inform that I have decided to merely translate from the original document without instilling gross changes to form and function this time as, let's face it, I haven't quite gone that insane yet.
So without further ado, let us now take you back to whence when and where into a world few have ever known existed, even though one sees it every single day...
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
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