Being the bad guy isn’t easy. Knowing you’re the bad guy is a lot worse. But what’s worse than any of it, is having friends, friends you know you would betray at a moment’s notice if you needed to.
Carr turned as his name was called. He couldn’t lose the target, not now. Five more seconds and the suspect would be through the doorway, and Carr would lose sight of her. Then it would be all over.
“Carr!” called the voice again.
“Laglor,” Carr responded as the gorillinator came ambling up to him. Four seconds.
“You have a new mission,” Laglor said, thrusting a sealed folder into Carr’s hands. Three seconds. “Direct from Vydar. Top priority.” Two seconds.
“Now?” Carr asked, feigning calmness. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.” One second.
“This is big,” Laglor said. “Vydar wants you on it right away. He said—” Time up.
Carr lowered his hand. To a bystander, it looked like a natural movement. There also would have been no suspicion in the way Carr briefly shifted his weight, allowing his hand to brush his coat, and through it, apply pressure to a hidden button on his belt.
Sirens sounded overhead. Laglor stopped talking midsentence and stared up at the flashing lights which had suddenly sprung into existence, his face taking on an expression of horror. A droning voice echoed over the loudspeakers:
“This is a level five security alert: all units on floor 23, section 7, alert; known suspect sighted. Apprehend for capture and questioning. Report in.”
“Got to go,” Carr said hastily, stuffing the sealed folder in his coat and taking off. He caught a glimpse of his target whipping around the corner and chased after her. Panic was blooming in the hall as Carr struggled to the doorway, ran through it, and hurtled himself down a tightly spiraling staircase in pursuit.
The security alert served a dual-purpose. It had allowed Carr to continue his current mission, but it also provided an excellent cover for him to move through, unseen by his target. There was, of course, no known suspect on floor 23, section 7. A Krav Maga agent is always prepared, though.
Carr reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see his quarry dashing through an open door. The door, conveniently enough, led to another staircase, a staircase which Carr happened to know led to floor 23, section 7.
Carr paused at the top of the stairs and pulled a remote from a hidden pocket in his coat. He examined it for a moment, and then punched five carefully selected numbers. The loudspeakers flared to life instantly:
“Suspect sighted on floor 23, section 7. Description: Nakita Agent. Identification: Cassandra. All units apprehend.”
Several echoing clangs reached Carr as all the doors on the twenty-third floor slammed shut. His target was trapped, with security soulborgs closing in. A moment later, the unmistakable sounds of a Nakita Agent being captured drifted up the stairs. They involved gunfire, the thud of five soulborgs hitting the floor, and the sudden whir of a cyberclaw. After that, silence.
Carr turned his back on the twenty-third floor. “Sorry, Cas,” he whispered to himself as he closed the door behind him.
Being relied upon gives you a good feeling. You feel like you’re the one everyone needs, because no one else can do what you can. That feeling goes away once you realize what you’ve been doing is wrong.
“Look, it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just… well, you’ve been suspicious of late.”
Isamu grinned. Taelord couldn’t see this, of course, as the ninja’s mouth and nose were covered with a red cloth mask. “That’s good, Taelord,” Isamu replied.
“It is?” the kyrie asked. This was evidentially not the reaction he had expected.
“Definitely,” said Isamu. “If I wasn’t suspicious, you would have no doubts about whose side I was on. And if you had no doubts, then there would be the possibility that I could turn on you without you suspecting it. By making you suspicious, I ensure that you’re always on your guard, and thus can never be caught by surprise. This therefore means I will never betray you, because if that was my plan, I would of course be sure to not be suspicious. Unless of course that was my plan in the first place.”
Isamu could see Taelord trying to figure out what he had said. Taelord wasn’t stupid; he was actually quite smart. Unfortunately for him, Isamu had long since trained himself in word puzzles. They might seem a trivial pursuit for a ninja, but they could be surprisingly distracting.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Taelord finally said. “Just remember: this isn’t a game, Isamu.”
Isamu’s grin dropped from his face, and he removed his mask. “Lives never are,” he said, “and I would never turn them into one.”
Taelord wasn’t quite sure what to say to this, and so sat down instead. Isamu replaced his mask, and sat down opposite him.
They had been stationed in this underground cave, along with three squadrons of Taelord’s minions, for nearly a week. They were part of a reconnaissance mission spying on one of Jandar’s fortresses. Unfortunately, one of the minions had been sighted four days ago, and they had been forced to remain underground ever since, while the search for them continued overhead. The minions had long since been reduced to bundles of nerves; the lack of room was making them irritable. Only Isamu and Taelord remained calm, both because of their training.
“You have to admit though,” said Taelord, after about a minute, “you’ve been acting odd. Ever since Kelden, you’ve been different. First you left for about a week. I had to report you MIA. We all thought you were dead. Then you appeared out of nowhere, saying you’d been on a top secret mission that was off all the records. I was fine with that. I really was.
“Now it’s different, though. You disappear during crucial operations. You leave for hours, days sometimes. When you turn up, you always say you’ve been on another secret mission. Why wouldn’t Utgar just pull you from my unit altogether? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to do whatever you’re doing?”
Isamu took his time in replying. He had to be careful. He was a ninja, so it was natural that suspicion would always be on him for something or other. But he still had to be careful. Taelord couldn’t find out what he was doing.
“Let’s just say that my presence here is advantageous to the mission. Come on, Taelord,” he added, “we’ve always been friends. I want to tell you. Really, I do. But I can’t. I’m on a top secret mission, and right now, things work out best if I’m here. Eventually, that time will come to an end. If I suddenly disappear and don’t come back… well, you’ll know that time has come.
“Things changed at Kelden. I’m not going to deny it. I can promise you though, that someday soon, you’ll know the whole story.”
Taelord leaned back against the rock wall. “I trust you, Isamu, and I trust Utgar. I don’t like what you’re doing, but I’m going to trust you that it’s for all our best interests. When you’re ready to tell me, I guess you will.”
“Don’t worry,” Isamu replied. “When it’s time, you’ll know the whole story.”
The whole story. But where did that tale begin? With Kumiko, who had cornered Isamu with a blade to his throat? Or with how she had let him go, choosing instead to tell him about the plan? Or with his investigation following what she had said, and his realizations? No. No, things had really begun after all that had happened. Things had really begun at Kelden.
Isamu had always been good at killing people. When he was five, he had killed the neighbor’s dog. He hadn’t really meant to, but he had been experimenting with various chemicals, and had needed something to try them out on. No one had complained. The dog had kept the whole village up with its barking at night.
On Valhalla, Isamu was easily the most well-known ninja. Jandar’s forces had come to fear him, and for good reason. He had become adept at sneaking into high security areas, and assassinating the commanders in their sleep. In fact, only Jandar and the high ranking officers, like Drake, were guarded well enough to stop him.
Kelden had been no different. Another small village, another alliance force with a poorly guarded lieutenant. Isamu had slipped past the guards effortlessly, through the maze of kyrie homes, and into the one he knew held the commander. This lieutenant had been different, though. Kelden was actually his home. The house he slept in was actually his, the kyrie by his side his wife. His two small children were in the next room.
Isamu hadn’t hesitated. Utgar had given express orders to make the assassination obvious, so Isamu had silently slit the lieutenant’s throat. All had been going according to plan, until the dead lieutenant’s smallest child had entered the room, doubtless frightened of the thunder outside.
They had looked at each other for nearly two seconds, child and murderer, both frozen. And then she had screamed. Isamu had known instantly that he would be late in returning.
Silencing the child was both unnecessary and repugnant. Isamu hated to do it, and the guards would arrive first anyway. He knew the child would be in no condition to relate anything, so he chose the only hiding place available to him: under the bed. It might have seemed obvious, but it served him well.
The next day had been a nightmare. The guards assumed that Isamu had escaped, which made it far easier for Isamu to do just that. The problem was that the small house was now full of the dead lieutenant’s friends and family, all mourning him and consoling his wife. It had taken Isamu nearly five hours to reach the door.
Those five hours had changed his life. Isamu had been forced to watch, for the first time, the consequences of his actions. He had seen the overwhelming grief of the widow. He had seen the uncomprehending faces of the small children. He had seen the anger of the friends, which quickly turned to deepest sorrow. In five hours, he had seen how his one simple action had shattered the world of an entire family, forever.
If Kumiko had not cornered him a month previously, Isamu was not sure what he would have done. He probably would have returned to Taelord’s group, and eventually reconciled the pain he had caused. He would have gotten over it. Bitterness and anger swelled up within him at the thought.
But Kumiko had given him an alternative. She had told him of the plan. At the time, he had not been interested. He had promised to keep the secret in return for her sparing his life, but he refused to join. Now, however, things had changed.
He had seen first-hand what his life’s work had wrought. He had tasted of it, and he had found it repulsive. Disgust at his own practices had filled him. Never again would he take a life. But more than that, he felt compelled to end the killing, to end the war. Normally, it would have been naught but a dream. But after what Kumiko said, it was a reality. A reality that Isamu needed, and one that he took.
Taelord could never know.
Agent Carr reclined against the unyielding metal wall, examining a picture. A single metallic sheet, propped up against the far wall, shed a dim light in the small room; it was the only source of light there was – an invention from Earth’s future. The room was more of a box; it was only seven feet long by five wide, and just tall enough for a man to comfortably sit in. The only way out was through a small circular hatch in the roof, which was currently tightly shut. Carr had many such hideouts all across Valhalla. A Krav Maga Agent is always prepared.
Carr tilted the picture, trying to get more of the light on it. It was small, and very old; the sides had begun to peel. It showed two people: a young woman, with a small girl – not much older than three – on her knee.
Carr ran his finger slowly over the surface of the picture, wiping some of the dust off of the woman’s face. “I’ll come back, Talia. I promise. Don’t give up hope.”
He gazed at the picture for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on Talia’s face, and that of his daughter. He had been young when Vydar had summoned him. The Valkyrie had promised Carr could return to Earth when the war was done, but he knew better. The war would never be over, and Vydar would never return him. But a Krav Maga Agent is always prepared.
After a minute, Carr replaced the picture of his wife and child in the deepest pocket of his coat, and took out the sealed folder Laglor had given him. “Let’s see what you need now, Vydar,” he said, slitting the folder open.
Several photographs fell out, surveillance images from the look of them (Vydar had wasted no time developing cameras once he summoned agents). Among them was a note, which Carr picked up.
Quote:
Agent Carr, these pictures are an area of time spread out over five months. They were so disjointed that Q10 didn’t see it at first. After investigating some, I believe something big is being planned, and that it will probably change the war. I can’t say in what way, and I don’t know who’s planning it: your job is to find out.
The man in the small picture is Mortar Castle, Jandar’s chief engineer. He keeps to the castle, designing weapons and buildings, but four months ago, he took a sudden journey south, to the edge of Bleakwood. There, he was met by an individual who my experts agree to be Isamu, though all we have to go off of is the arm you see in the picture. Isamu gave Mortar an object the soulborgs believe to be the Spear of Gerda.
You will recall that five months ago, Raelin was killed at the battle of Varnem Pass. Her spear was never found, even though the battlefield was completely undisturbed by the time we got there. We now believe Isamu stole the spear, for reasons still unknown, and gave it to Mortar.
Mortar was tracked to the center of Bleakwood, until our kyrie scouts were forced to turn back in the face of several shades. Long-range scans have revealed that the Daerk Base – our previous center for our entire spy network – is now once again home to nearly two hundred people. Who these people are, I do not know, but Mortar was headed straight for them, and the base.
We severed all connections to the base when it was overrun by shades a year ago, so we believe our operations are still secret. However, no one is supposed to know about the Daerk Base. I want you to go there, find out who these people are, and discover why Mortar needs the Spear of Gerda. It disquiets me that soldiers of Jandar and Utgar seem to be working together.
|
Carr picked up the pictures. The first one showed a slightly fat man, doubtless Mortar Castle, accepting a weapon wrapped in leather from a man who was hidden in shadow, save for one arm. Carr agreed – the cloth-wrapped arm unmistakably belonged to Isamu. He scratched his head. Why would Isamu retrieve the Spear of Gerda, only to hand it over to Jandar’s chief engineer, who promptly took it deep within Bleakwood, to a base that to everyone but Vydar’s spies, did not even exist? This warranted a look.
Isamu stood at attention. Since he was a ninja, this looked a bit different than might have been expected. He stood with his arms at his sides, his palms flat. A dim light illuminated him from behind. His sword was at his feet.
“I wanted to commend you, Isamu,” said the figure before him. “Your retrieval of the spear was done expertly. I doubt even Kumiko could have done it better.” The figure was tall, and clearly a kyrie, though his features were hidden in the shadows. “I also want to thank you,” he continued, “for agreeing to join us. It’s not easy, what we’re doing, but each and every one of us feels it is the right path.”
“As do I, Flame,” said Isamu. He didn’t know who the figure was, only that he was the head of the entire operation. He was known only as the Flame. Isamu himself had a code name, for he rarely saw other members of the operation.
“Now that Mortar has the spear, however,” the Flame continued, “we must proceed to the most difficult phase of all. I believe you know what it entails?”
“I do.”
“Good. Kumiko will brief you on which targets remain to be dealt with. All of my other operatives are already in the field; if all goes as planned, our mission will be complete within the week.”
The figure stood. His face was still in shadow. “Are you ready to end this war, Isamu?”
Six days later, and Isamu was to be found, breathing hard, against the wall, deep within one of Jandar’s major cities. He had just barely escaped for what felt like the hundredth time in one day. He had always considered himself a master of stealth, but nothing had prepared him for this mission. Fortunately, none of his targets had suspected what he was doing. His reputation alone was enough to cause Jandar’s soldiers to raise the alarm, which meant that his targets usually didn’t bother to wonder why their arms suddenly itched.
Isamu carefully stuffed the syringe he held back into a concealed pocket. So far, it had worked perfectly. None of the targets had thought twice about the slight prick they felt in their arm. It was followed by a moment’s itch, and then everything was as it had been. Not even a mark upon the skin.
Kumiko had given Isamu a list of names. Each of those names was a target, and it was Isamu’s job to prick each target’s arm with the syringe. If he hadn’t known the plan, he would never have agreed to do it. However, after the Flame had explained everything, and shown what the syringe contained, he had been eager to begin. This would end the war. And that was now Isamu’s mission on Valhalla. He had caused enough pain.
Unfortunately, things were getting difficult for Isamu. The week had started off easily enough; Isamu was so skilled that he could slip up behind a target, prick their arm, and then vanish before they saw them. The target would pass it off as a mosquito bite or the like, and continue on.
Now Isamu’s list was getting short. He had saved the difficult targets until last, and he was beginning to wish he hadn’t. No less than six guards had surrounded Sergeant Drake Alexander, and Isamu had barely gotten away with his life. He had been successful, though. Drake too had been pricked with the syringe.
The Flame had been in contact earlier that day, informing Isamu that the other operatives had returned, successful. An operative had been in each quadrant of Valhalla, pricking everyone on their lists. Isamu only had five names left, and when the syringe had tasted those five, every single person in Valhalla would have been pricked by it. Every last one of them. This was the plan.
Isamu scanned his list. All of the names would be difficult, but the one he was most dreading was at the very top.
Isamu pulled a small hand-held radio from a pocket. The small black device was becoming quite popular in Valhalla, and no one would find it suspicious that a ninja liked to listen to the VMH (Valhallian Musical Hour) when time permitted. Unless, of course, that radio turned out to be something else.
Isamu turned the dial to the ‘off’ position and held a hidden button.
“Crystal Base, come in,” he whispered into the radio. “Crystal Base, come in.”
The radio suddenly fizzed to life. “This is Crystal Base,” said a static-ridden voice. “Go ahead.”
“This is Red 5,” Isamu whispered back, referring to his code name. “Requesting tracking on a target.”
“All tracking is operational. We’re watching a live feed from our hack into Vydar’s surveillance system. What’s your target?”
Isamu took a deep breath. “I need the current location of Agent Carr.”
“What do you think?” whispered Carr. “Counter-waves? Soulborg repulsors?”
Major Q10 sighed on the other side of the radio. It is a very strange thing to hear a soulborg sigh, a sound made stranger still when heard through a minute speaker. “I don’t know,” Q10 said. “The interference is like nothing I’ve ever encountered. It doesn’t fluctuate, so it’s not a wave or disruption of some type. It’s as though there is a shield around the place that we simply can’t penetrate.”
Carr raised his head a foot and glanced over the log he was hiding behind. Just over two hundred yards away, partially hidden by thick pine trees, was the Daerk Base. From this distance, it didn’t look inhabited. The forest had begun to reclaim it in places, vines and bushes marching up its sides. From the thermal images though, Carr knew it was swarming with people.
“That’s a negative,” he said, sliding back down behind the log. “I can’t see anything that would interrupt you. The base looks completely deserted from where I’m at.”
“I’ll try a different frequency,” Q10 said.
Carr waited. It hadn’t taken him long to reach Bleakwood; he had nearly been on its northern edge anyway. The difficult part now was approaching the Daerk Base unseen. Vydar’s agents had designed it to detect anything that moved. If that equipment was still operational, Carr could be incinerated by two-inch soulborg blasters the instant he approached.
“This isn’t working,” Q10 said a moment later. “I’ve tried every frequency we have. High, low – nothing can get through. There must some kind of invisible shield around the place. This tech is high, higher than anything I’m aware of.”
Carr grimaced. When a soulborg can’t understand technology, you know you’re in trouble. “What about the wire tap?” he asked?
“We have minimal access. We had to set up twelve separate firewalls and encryption devices to make sure they can’t track us. They have some kind of AI running their defensive software. We can hack in for about five minutes before it shuts us out. It takes five more minutes to get back in on a different server.”
“What kind of control do you have?”
“Control?” repeated Q10. “Not much, if you want to stay unnoticed. If we pulled all the stops out, we could shut off the motion detectors that aren’t protected for about a minute or two. That’s assuming they don’t have backups hidden with a firewall. If we do that, though, they’ll know something’s going on.”
“People I can get past,” Carr muttered. “It’s the cameras that are the problem. If you can create a diversion by shutting them all off, it will probably help me get inside.”
“That I can do,” said Q10. “Just give me the word.”
“Stay on the radio,” Carr said. “I want to do some more surveillance, then I’ll give you the signal. Is the extraction team standing by?”
“Standing by,” Q10 affirmed. “We have a ground force a hundred meters behind you, and the stealth gunship circling overhead. You’re covered.”
Carr nodded to himself and pushed his earpiece. The line was still active; neither could hear the other, but Q10 would be ready when Carr turned his radio back on.
Carr broke out a pair of large and extremely futuristic-looking binoculars. He scanned the Daerk Base, looking for the gun ports that it had bristled with in the days of Vydar. He could see nothing, but then again, there were far smaller guns to be had. He switched to a thermal image.
Nothing. The base was as cold as the surrounding forest. Even with thermal imaging, the base seemed perfectly lifeless. Everyone must be underground.
Carr didn’t like that. Previous images had shown several people above ground. If everyone was underground now, it could mean only two things: either they knew he was there, or something big was happening beneath the base. Neither option was pleasant.
Isamu crouched low in the underbrush, a strange visor covering one eye. He squinted through it, sifting through the weak heat signatures of the forest, to the much stronger form only fifty meters in front of him.
The figure, showing up bright orange in Isamu’s visor, was crouched over behind a log. It appeared to be viewing the Daerk Base before it through a pair of binoculars. Isamu’s perfect opportunity to strike.
Isamu clicked off his visor and edged forward, almost sliding along on his stomach. He slithered through the mat of dead leaves that covered the forest, the scent of decay and darkness filling his nostrils. He had the sudden urge to sneeze, and only just quelled it in time.
Isamu raised himself slightly, and pulled the syringe from its pocket. In the other hand, he slowly pulled his sword from its hidden sheath. He then crouched low, and slid forwards, his eyes on his target.
Carr was the last name on his list.
Carr’s radio crackled to life. He instantly froze. He had turned the line quiet. Q10 must have a real emergency to break it.
“Carr!” hissed the soulborg. “Heads up! We just picked up a small form moving toward you fast from the north!”
Carr didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes glued to the Daerk Base, which he had been observing. Turning around would spook whoever was behind him.
“How far?” he whispered, not moving his lips.
“About… twenty meters. Humanoid, from what I can tell. It’s strange though… no heat signature at all. Absolutely zero. It blends in perfectly. It’s definitely there, though. We can see its distortion in the electrical field we have around you.”
With no heat signature, Carr’s instant thought would be shades. But the figure had substance from what Q10 had said, and shades faded in and out. That could mean only one thing.
Isamu stopped ten meters from his target. Agent Carr didn’t turn around. He was moving, though, shifting his binoculars from side to side; if he had been frozen, it would have meant he knew Isamu was there. But there was no way for him to know. The Flame had given Isamu new armor – armor that reflected his heat signature. It was a bit warm, but at least it kept him fully hidden from the soulborg scanners. Without it, he would not have been able to get past the soulborg ground force waiting a hundred meters behind Carr.
The trick now would be to prick Carr’s arm without drawing attention to himself. To anyone else, a bug bite in a forest would have been nothing to worry about. To people like Isamu and Carr, it could mean nothing short of first degree murder. Carr was going to notice. Isamu’s training would truly be put to the test. Could he vanish, from right beneath Agent Carr’s nose? He doubted it, but he would have to try.
Carr had gone silent. The figure behind him was now so close that it would be able to hear him whisper. Instead, Q10 was keeping him updated.
“It’s stopped about ten meters behind you, Carr. It’s definitely a human. I’m going through all our active hacks right now… no, none of the generals have any units anywhere near you. Whoever it is, he’s operating on his own.”
Or under someone else, Carr thought. He had no doubt about who the figure was. Soulborgs had been designed to prevent Mariedians from escaping. Not many humans could get by them unnoticed, no matter how much help they had. In fact, Carr only knew of two who could: himself, and Isamu.
He casually dropped his hand to his belt, where his sword lay, concealed in its sheath. Not even a trained assassin could have interpreted the motion correctly. If Isamu meant to ambush him, he would have to deal with the consequences.
“The figure’s moving,” came Q10’s voice. “He’s going slow, but he’s headed right for you. Seven meters. Five. Four. Three…”
Talia, Carr thought.
I do this for you, Talia. I do this so that we may be together again. The two of us and our daughter.
Carr tightened his grip on his sword.
Isamu saw Carr’s grip tighten under his coat. He knew in an instant what that meant. It meant he had approximately two seconds of life left.
Abandoning all stealth, Isamu leapt at Carr, even as Carr whirled around, whipping his sword from its sheath.
Most martial arts are defensive. They tend to focus on blocking attacks. Isamu wasn’t attacking, though, which gave him the advantage. For a brief moment, he abandoned all training, and launched himself at Carr’s arm.
The arm is generally not a target. This is why Carr hesitated for a half second. That half second was all Isamu needed.
Carr felt something prick his left arm. He whipped it away instantly, but the damage was done. He knew that most deadly poisons only needed a scratch to act through. By now, the substance, whatever it was, was probably coursing through his veins, speeding towards his heart or brain. He guessed he had about three seconds to live.
Isamu rocketed past him, catapulting himself over the log, rolling as he landed, and then springing upwards. He took off running, heading straight for the Daerk Base.
His cover was blown. Carr leapt out from behind the log and chased after Isamu, shouting instruction to Q10 as he ran.
“Hit them now! I repeat, hit them now! Shut the cameras off!”
Isamu was unbelievably fast. He leapt over logs and around tree trunks with the agility of a cat. Carr whipped out his pistol and fired off a few shots, but it was no use. Isamu changed direction constantly, and it was already so hard to aim while running, that the shots went wide. Carr replaced the gun in his holster and ran even faster.
“Oh no,” came Q10’s voice over the earpiece. “I’m blocked. Carr, I don’t have access! They put me in a virtual system, the actual servers keep switching IP addresses – I can’t get a lock on them. I thought they were just background noise. The cameras are still on. I can’t tell if they can see you are not, I’m totally shut out.”
Carr gritted his teeth but did not reply. He had no breath to spare.
Isamu leapt over several boulders, heading straight for the massive blast doors of the Daerk Base. They were tightly shut, but as he approached, they suddenly swung open. No one could be seen in the dark passage beyond.
Foreboding filled Carr at this sight. If the doors had opened for Isamu, that meant someone, or something, knew he was there. It therefore followed that they could also see him, Carr. And that could mean only one thing: since they weren’t shooting, they wanted him alive. Carr should disengage now. They meant to capture him!
“Evac!” Carr shouted into his earpiece as he skidded to a halt. “I need evac now!”
But the line had gone dead. Something was blocking the signal. Carr turned to run, but it was too late. He heard the hiss of pistons as something popped up behind him. The next thing he knew, a gun had fired, some kind of concussive force had hit him in the back, and he fell forward, unconscious before he hit the ground.
It seemed the Daerk Base did, indeed, have operational guns.
“It is done then?”
“It is done, Flame.”
“Everyone?”
“Everyone. Except for me.”
Isamu withdrew the syringe, and pricked his own arm with it. He then handed it to the Flame. They were standing again in the same dark room they had a week ago.
The Flame examined the syringe, his face still hidden in shadows. “I’m glad Mortar designed this self-cleansing needle. I didn’t much relish the thought of stabbing everyone with the same one. If you’re going to end the war, best to do it cleanly.”
The flame lowered the syringe to his own arm, and pricked himself. He then placed it in a drawer, and stood.
“What shall we do with our guest, Isamu?” he asked.
“Carr?” Isamu said. “Keep him contained. Once Operation Shields is complete, he won’t be able to do a thing. Until then, though, he’s very dangerous.”
The Flame nodded, bowing his head in thought. “Carr has nearly unveiled us,” he said musingly.
“Does it really matter?” asked Isamu. “In half an hour’s time, Operation Shields will be finished, and we’ll be revealed to all of Valhalla anyway.”
“I know,” murmured the Flame. “But Vydar is incredibly fast-moving. I doubt he knows what we’re doing here, but he knows we’re hostile. Or thinks he does, anyway. This whole thing is undercover, which means he can attack us outright. Our technology is more advanced, but we’d never survive a direct attack from his Science Division.”
“But surely they can’t get here within half an hour?”
The Flame grimaced in the shadows. “Never underestimate the enemy, Isamu. A Krav Maga Agent is always prepared.”
Most people, when waking from unconsciousness, do so slowly, with no discernable line between being asleep and being awake. Such was not the case with Carr.
The instant his brain returned to its normal, calculating state, Carr was awake, ready and willing to take on a hundred men. With a knife.
He noticed several things at once. He was in a small cube of a room, with white walls, floor, and ceiling. There were no windows, and only one door. He sat in the only chair. His hands and feet were chained together. Two soulborgs were standing on either side of the door, observing him placidly.
The next thing Carr noticed, was that the soulborgs were Gladiatrons. They were under the command of Vydar.
“What’s the situation?” Carr asked the instant this information had computed.
“You are being detained,” the soulborg on the right said.
Carr blinked at it in disbelief. “I am a first division officer. Release me.”
“Negative.”
If the habit hadn’t been trained out of him at age three, Carr’s jaw would have dropped. Soulborgs might have free will, but they never,
never disobeyed a direct order from their commanding officer. And that meant…
“Who is your commanding officer?” Carr asked.
“Flame,” said the soulborg on the left.
“He reprogrammed you?”
“Negative. We have joined Operation Shields.”
Flame? Operation Shields? What was going on here?
“You’re aware of my background?” Carr asked.
“Affirmative.”
“Then you know that I could disable both of your input circuits and be out of this room in about five seconds?”
“4.872, to be exact.”
Carr stared at them. “And you’re fine with that?”
“Negative. You see, you are currently unable to harm us, Carr. Very soon, Operation Shields will be in effect. We request that you remain where you are. You will be released to do as you please in twenty-two minutes, thirty-six seconds.”
“What happens in twenty-two minutes, thirty-six seconds?” Carr asked warily.
“Operation Shields goes into effect.”
Carr suddenly grinned. While the soulborgs had been talking, he had managed to unlock the chains around his hands and feet. It had involved working the lock picks out of their hidden pockets in his boots and coat sleeves. If you’ve ever tried to unlock something with your toes, without moving your feet, you will know how difficult this was. He now promptly raised the lock picks in his hands, took careful aim (all of which took less than one fifth of a second) and threw them at the soulborgs.
The lock picks hit their targets perfectly, striking where the input circuit controls would have been. The only problem was, the soulborgs suddenly vanished. The lock picks clattered against the wall and fell to the floor.
“Holograms,” Carr muttered. He didn’t waste a moment, but launched himself at the door, analyzing its structure as he flew through the air, and arranging his body to compensate. The side of his foot struck the lock a moment later, and the door was flung open, to bang against the opposite wall.
Agent Carr had broken out of a security holding cell in a little under two seconds, from the point he left his chair. It was not a new record.
The Flame pressed a finger to his ear.
“Carr’s out,” he reported a moment later. “How long will it take him to reach the chamber?” he added, glancing at Isamu.
Isamu did some quick calculations. “About ten minutes, if he knows where to go,” he replied. “We need more time. The operation will be complete in just over twenty.”
“Go,” said the Flame. “Remember, don’t injure him. Just delay him.”
Isamu nodded once and was gone.
The first thing Carr did upon exiting the room and ascertaining that the hall he was now in was empty, was to kneel, and take off his left boot. He slid one of the lock picks back into it, and then raised the false floor, accessing a secret compartment in the heel.
The compartment held a tiny red card, about the size and appearance of a computer chip. Carr pressed his thumb to the card, waited for one second, and then replaced it in his boot. He closed the false floor, pulled the boot back on, and stood up.
Escape was a thought that was not present in Carr’s mind. The enemy had brought him willingly into the Daerk Base. This was too good of an opportunity to miss. Fortunately, Carr had been in the base once before (which in his case, meant he had the floor plan memorized). He took off at once, heading for the central chamber of the base. If anything big was going on, that was where it would be.
Meanwhile, the small chip in Carr’s boot, being activated by his print, was sending out the longest radio wave known to man: that is, a nearly perfectly straight line. This radio wave had two distinct advantages: it was virtually impossible to trace, and it was very fast. This was why, approximately eight seconds later, major Q10 was able to make contact with Agent Carr, within the Daerk Base.
“What is this? How did you get past the shield? Where are you? What’s going on?”
Carr chose to answer all of the questions. “This is a Delta H wavelength. It is completely untraceable and unhackable. It is the lowest frequency wavelength there is. I have it pinpointed at your exact location, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to hear a thing.
“I am currently halfway through the Daerk Base, closing on the central chamber. I expect pursuit any moment.”
Shocked silence followed.
“And how is your day going?” Carr asked as he ran.
“Location?” Isamu whispered into his radio.
“B hall, closing fast. If you don’t stop him, Carr’s going to get here before we’re ready.”
“I hear you,” Isamu said. He clicked his radio off and replaced it in his pocket.
“I’ll stop him.”
Carr raced down the metallic hall. The absence of resistance told him that he was about to run into some at any moment. He would have drawn his sword long ago, but he had been relieved of his weapons while he was unconscious. Most of them, anyway. He still had the parts to a fully assemble-able grenade launcher hidden in various pockets. Parts he planned to use shortly…
Without warning, an arm clothed in red swung out from a doorway. The hand carried no sword, and neither did it need to: the edge of the hand was as deadly as any blade.
Without pausing, Carr bent over backwards, ducking under the hand. He grabbed it from beneath, flipped his trajectory around, placed one foot against the near wall, and pulled. Isamu was flung over Carr to land on the floor with a terrible crunch. Not that this did any damage. The ninja leapt up instantly.
There then followed a series of martial arts moves so complicated that the eye could not follow them. The combatants fought more with instinct than with mind, going through hundreds of moves, over half of which were designed to counter the ones used by the other.
Ninja and agent circled each other so fast that they seemed to have four legs: two for running, two more for kicking. Their hands were a blur of motion, blocking the other’s kicks with lightning reflexes.
Every half second, one of them would lunge forward, jamming his opponent up close to prevent him from kicking. A series of fake punches would follow, to throw the opponent off guard, followed by a series of real ones, which were all blocked. Then the defendant would leap backwards, sliding back with one foot, and raising the other to kick his opponent. The attacker would slide backwards, dodging the kick, and then close again.
Carr and Isamu carried on like this for nearly two minutes. Carr was, however, taller, more heavily built, a lot more experienced, and a lot more prepared. He finally managed to snag Isamu’s cloth armor on a lock pick protruding from his sleeve, which gave him enough time to deliver a knife-hand strike to the back of Isamu’s neck.
The ninja crumpled instantly.
“Time?”
Mortar checked the clock. “We’re operational,” he said. “Isamu did it.”
The Flame watched Carr through the monitor. “Throw the switch,” he said.
The disadvantage to taking over an enemy base, is that the enemy invariably knows it better than you do. That is why Carr was able to take a sudden short cut, shaving off approximately two minutes of travel time. He emerged in a short hall, which led to, and ended with, the massive central chamber. He raced down the hall, pulling the parts of the grenade launcher from his coat and assembling them.
“Throw the switch!”
“I did! It’s still charging up! It only needs five seconds!”
The Flame’s eyes were glued to the monitor.
“We don’t have five seconds. We’re not going to make it.”
Carr skidded to a halt at the end of the hall. It opened into a vast circular chamber, shaped rather like two large fry-pans, one inverted on top of the other: the central chamber. It was there that he saw Operation Shields.
Workers milled about the chamber, checking screens, flipping dials, monitoring data. The center of the chamber was dominated by a massive structure, similar in shape to a gigantic hourglass. The two tips were separated at the very center, allowing just enough space between them for a man to stand comfortably in. And there, hanging perfectly still in midair between the two halves of the machine, was Raelin’s Spear of Gerda. As Carr watched, the top and bottom tips of the hourglass suddenly ignited with energy. The Spear of Gerda flared with a blue light.
Carr slotted the last piece of his grenade launcher into place, and took careful aim at the very center of the machine. It wasn’t the most precise weapon, but it would get the job done. Unless, of course —
Isamu crashed into Carr from behind. The two of them crashed to the floor, Carr keeping them from rolling down the steep side of the central chamber by hanging on to the edge of the floor. He quickly flipped up over Isamu, turned around in midair, and kicked him. Isamu went flying off the edge of the hall. He dropped a moment later, and went plummeting towards the floor of the central chamber, far below. That was when things changed.
The machine exploded. Or, at least it seemed to. What actually happened was that the machine extracted the blue energies from the Spear of Gerda, and then flung them outwards in a gigantic shockwave.
Isamu was flung backwards, cushioning his fall. Carr, who had been about to fire the grenade launcher again, was slammed to the floor, the weapon knocked from his hands. The blue magic sped over him, and then raced up the hall, quickly flooding the Daerk Base.
The Flame smiled. “Mortar, my friend,” he said, turning to him, “you’ve done it. Congratulations. And thank you.”
One month later, Taelord observed Utgar’s mighty stronghold. It was empty now, its armies gone.
“You said once that I’d know the whole story.” Taelord sighed. “I just never thought it would look like this.”
Isamu came up behind him. He walked with a slight limp now. “Neither did I, to be honest. I knew this was the end goal, but I never really thought it would work. It was enough just to know that I was doing something.”
“You really changed at Kelden,” Taelord remarked, still observing the black fortress.
Isamu was silent for a moment. “A lot of things changed there,” he said.
Taelord looked down. “Any word from Vydar?”
Isamu waved a hand. “You know him. He’s still shut up in his castle, pouring over his surveillance equipment. He doesn’t want to admit what’s happened. Either that, or he can’t.”
“I still find the whole thing a bit difficult to comprehend, myself,” said Taelord. “There have been so many rumors about Operation Shields; no one really knows what’s fact anymore.”
“That’s true,” agreed Isamu, “but I think the Flame likes it that way. No one knows the exact workings of anything, which means no one can stop them if they wanted to.”
“And you still won’t tell me who the Flame is?” Taelord asked.
“I don’t know,” said Isamu. “I never saw his face, and I never asked. I have a suspicion, though,” he added, seeing Taelord’s skeptical look.
“Really?” asked Taelord. “Who?”
Utgar stood. The Valkyrie were all arranged around a circular table, within a room grown from a tree by elves. Sunlight poured in through the gaps in the trunk – the Elven equivalent of windows.
All seven Valkyrie were present. Utgar, his red skin gleaming, glowered about the table as he stood, which was evidently his way of looking impressive. Beside him, Valkrill slouched in his chair, looking sullen, and shrinking away from the bright sunlight. On Valkrill’s left sat Einar, rigidly straight in his Elven chair, his brown hair flowing down his back. Next to Einar sat Aquilla. In contrast to the warrior beside her, Aquilla sat with a fluid grace that seemed commanding, and yet gentle. Ullar was on Aquilla’s left, his powerful arms bare, his fingers absently stroking the wooden table they all sat at. Jandar came next, his face radiant with a righteous fire that still flickered.
Vydar was not present. All the Valkyrie had agreed that the war was over save for him; he still remained in his castle, searching for a way to thwart what the Flame had done. Vydar’s chair was, however, occupied by a seventh Valkyrie. This Valkyrie was tall and powerful like the rest. It was impossible to glean anything from his appearance, however, due to the fact that his face was covered with a black cloth.
This was the Flame. He had called for this meeting two weeks after Operation Shields had been completed. He had sat quietly, saying not a word, while accusations flew across the table, the Valkyrie all blaming each other for the state the war was in. They were angry, all of them, because no matter how much they had said they wanted peace, what they had really desired was victory: the chance to conquer their enemy, and submit him beneath their heel. This had been denied them.
The arguments had now burned themselves out, and Utgar stood, facing the Flame. “You have been silent through all of this, Flame,” he said. “Have you no opinions? Did you summon us here merely to listen to our grievances?”
The Flame stood. The simple act seemed to have an effect on Utgar, for he sat down abruptly. “I did not come to hear your arguments,” the Flame said calmly. His voice was quiet, patient, as if he was willing to wait for the rest of eternity to achieve his goals. “I summoned you here to dispel the confusion now coursing throughout Valhalla.” The other Valkyrie leaned forward with interest.
“Operation Shields began as a dream, a desire, a fantasy wished for by few, and spoken of by fewer. These individuals dreamt of a Valhalla with no war, where none could be harmed. For most of them, it stopped there. Such a thing was impossible.
“For two, it did not. For me, the dream lived on. I confided in my friend, a man whose name is now famous throughout Valhalla: Mortar Castle. Mortar had long achieved the impossible with his designs; if anyone could turn the dream to reality, it would be him.
“It took a great deal of thought and time. How could one end the war, and simultaneously ensure no one, not a single person, would ever be harmed again? The answer came to me one day, with no warning, no context. I was surprised at its simplicity. It sounded so simple, and yet was so hard.
“Mortar thought it could be accomplished with the right people though. And so began Operation Shields. Mortar remained at Jandar’s castle, where he could stay informed of things. I traveled Valhalla, converting those I trusted to my side. In time, they turned others, and then those turned more, until I had a following of nearly a thousand.
“The method in which they joined me meant that all of these soldiers knew only a select few others in the Operation. Only the captains – those I had personally confided in – knew everyone under them, and I knew all the captains. Every single soldier that had been turned remained in the employ of their Valkyrie. I would have need of them, but for now, there was no need to raise suspicion.
“Having recruits all throughout Valhalla worked to my advantage. If that hadn’t been the case, I would have walked right into Vydar’s surveillance. As it was, some of my recruits under Vydar warned me first, and I was able to sufficiently cover my tracks, though I think some clues still leaked out.
“The recruits most crucial to my operation would be the ninjas. It was imperative that I win them all over to my side. Kumiko was the first. She had tasted enough of the war, and was ready for a change. Shiori and Moriko quickly followed. This left only one ninja: Isamu.
“Kumiko managed to corner Isamu one night. She put her knife to his throat, but instead of killing him, told him about Operation Shields. Isamu did not wish to join. He did, however, agree to keep my secret in repayment for Kumiko sparing his life. The honor of ninjas, fortunately, runs deep. Isamu remained silent.
“It was a short time later that Isamu joined me. He had been forced to watch the repercussions of one of his assassinations, and the sight had turned him against the war. He realized what he had been doing, and now joined the crusade to make it right.
“With four ninjas on my side, Operation Shields was suddenly looking hopeful. Mortar Castle sent Isamu to retrieve Raelin’s Spear of Gerda: a job that was suddenly made easier at the Battle of Varnem Pass. Raelin’s death was a terrible blow to the alliance, and one I will not easily forget, for she was my friend as well.
“With the spear, however, Mortar had what he needed to make the operation work. The spear was one of the most powerful artifacts in Valhalla. Mortar had long studied the shields it created. If he could strengthen them, why, one would be invincible. All he needed was a way to extend the spear’s shield over everyone in Valhalla… no easy task.
“A way presented itself, however, a month after the spear was collected from Isamu. Mortar had designed a synthetic serum, a substance able to conduct the strange magic of the Spear of Gerda. The serum had only to be touched by the spear’s force field, and it, too, was surrounded by an impenetrable shield. After some experimentation, Mortar found that anything injected with this serum and then exposed to the magic, would similarly be protected.
“We now had a way to protect everyone in Valhalla, and the means to carry it out. We also had the agents with the skills necessary to do so: contaminating an entire continent’s population with a foreign serum and having them be none the wiser is no easy operation.
“My ninjas were quick though, and startlingly efficient. Within two months, nearly everyone had been injected with the serum. Only the most difficult targets remained: the Valkyrie themselves, and several highly trained or well-guarded soldiers. These too eventually felt the needle, myself, Isamu, and Agent Carr being the last to feel it. Barely half an hour before the machine would be turned on, every last person within Valhalla contained the serum.
“Agent Carr nearly stopped the operation. Vydar had grown suspicious, and had sent him to investigate. Through the actions of Isamu, however, we gained just enough time to activate the machine before Carr could disable it. I thank the heavens above that it was so.”
The Flame sat down. “You know the rest. The machine activated the Spear of Gerda. A shockwave of blue magic erupted over Valhalla, passing through earth, stone, and flesh. No one escaped. The serum within every person’s body was activated.
“When they woke, the inhabitants of Valhalla found themselves shielded from the outside world. Attacks simply bounced off. Battles halted. Wars descended into confusion as soldiers found themselves unable to fight, or, indeed, be fought. No one could be harmed by anyone else.
“Slowly, unable to do anything to each other, the armies retreated. And then they realized something truly terrible, something I myself had not thought of until that moment. The shields blocked
anything, be that the blow of a sword… or the touch of a loved one. The evil of war had been taken from Valhalla, but with it, all that the soldiers fought for had fled as well. They had fought for the land, but they couldn’t enjoy it, for the shield blocked even the scents from the air, and the feel of earth beneath them. They had fought for their families, but no longer could they be with them, for the shield was forever a barrier between them.
“My shield had accomplished something I never meant it to. Not only had it stopped the war, it had shown each and every soldier what thing held true worth in their lives, for that was the thing they missed most, the thing the shield kept from them.”
The Flame sighed. “And now, my friends, you know the whole story.”
There was a long silence.
“Well,” said Utgar at last. “The war is over. That much is clear. It seems to me that this Mortar Castle fellow should figure out a way to take these shields off; I don’t much fancy spending the rest of my life in a bubble.”
“Maybe we need the shields yet,” said the Flame calmly. “The instant they’re gone, what do you think will happen? War will break out on Valhalla once again.”
“He’s right,” said Jandar standing. “Utgar, Valkrill, we need to end this, now. This Flame has finally made us come to our senses for a moment, let’s put the time to good use. I propose a treaty. Utgar, you retain the Volcarren as your dominion. The other Valkyrie retain theirs. The rest of Valhalla will become one province, where kyrie may go as they please. This province will be ruled over by all of us. Those that wish to stay under the rule of their Valkyrie, may stay in his lands. Those that wish to live under the new regime, may live anywhere else.”
“I accept,” said Utgar heavily, reaching across the table to shake hands with Jandar.
“Done,” said Jandar, grasping Utgar’s hand firmly.
Both of them leapt back in surprise.
“You – I – the shield! It’s – It’s gone! I was able to shake your hand!”
Both of the Valkyrie were looking at their hands as though they had never seen them before. There was a moment’s uproar, and then the six Valkyrie turned on the Flame.
“What’s going on?”
“Why is the shield gone?”
“Will it come back?”
The Flame smiled beneath his cloth mask. “There was one last thing I did not tell you,” he said. “While it is true I had not considered the cost of the shields, Mortar had. He knew what would happen. That is why he designed the machine with a secret function. This function allowed the magic in the serum within each of us to become dormant, thus allowing the shield to evaporate. With the push of a button, however, the shields all across Valhalla may become active once again – a button Mortar has assured me he will press if ever another war arises.
“This is why I hope, now that the shields are gone, you will embrace what you have come to miss.”
Agent Carr kept his eyes closed. Slowly, the rushing of the water died away, giving way to the singing of birds, and the rustle of a dry wind through leafy trees. Carr breathed deeply, the air heavy with familiar scent.
Earth. Home. Love. Talia.
Carr opened his eyes.
May 14th, 2015, 09:18 PM
TAF was the Storyteller... 
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