by Hodden, TE
Charlie crouched and made a complex gesture at the floor. Frost spread out from his hands, picking out clawed footprints across the alley, up the wall, into the window, out of the window, and down the wall, across the alley, into the street, and into a manhole cover.
Melisa shuddered. “Okay, that’s… kind of scary.”
Charlie nodded.
“And,” Melisa said, with a smile, “very much our kind of thing.”
*
The sewers were full of stench and echoes.
Melisa tried to keep to one side of the dank, musky, tunnel, away from the shallow stream that dribbled past, as she and Charlie followed the footprints revealed by the spell. Not for the first time, she was a little jealous that Charlie had magicked himself sturdy boots and a sealed helmet.
He walked a little ahead of her, holding out one hand, letting the spell slither ahead of him, revealing the footprints. He moved like a predator, taut and quiet.
“So…” Melisa said, concentrating on where she put her feet. “Is there anything you can tell me about your friend?”
“Only that I trust them,” Charlie said.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” He asked.
“You are doing the mysterious thing.” Melisa folded her arms. “Do you know how infuriating that is?”
“Unfortunately,” he muttered, “I do, but it is a matter of trust. They contacted me in confidence.”
“But if I guessed?” Melisa chewed her lip. “Are they a man or a woman?”
He marched on.
“Charlie!” Melisa hurried to catch him up, and grabbed his arm. “You do trust them?”
He held her in the gaze of his thin visor. “Apparently more than I thought.”
Melisa snorted. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
His gaze was unmoving. “I can’t tell you.”
“See?” Melisa stepped around him. “The Mysterious thing is… infuriating!”
“You are the one who only asks questions I can’t answer!”
Melisa pointed her flashlight at his visor. “Infuriating!”
The tunnel joined a main trunk-way at a junction. Melisa stared at deep stream that tumbled by, looking upstream and down with her flashlight. The light fell on a cluster of bones caught against a grating.
“This way,” she said, hopping onto the narrow walkway by the noxious river, and walked upstream.
Charlie followed, looming behind her.
The tunnel opened up into a wide well, the collection pool for storm drains. The dark water was littered with a jumble of bones. Melisa crouched and scooped one from the water. It was rough, and scratched, where sharp teeth had picked it clean.
Charlie let out a long, low, breath.
Melisa looked up at him. “Hey, Charlie? What is it?”
“A schism-way,” Charlie whispered.
Melisa looked at the pool again, to the airy, dark space above it. There was… a slither of air that was a darkness that was blacker than the shadows, a jagged wound in the air itself. It gave her a headache to look at. “Is that…”
“A path to another realm,” Charlie whispered. “It is where the creature came from.”
“And where it would have gone back to?” Melisa asked, hopeful.
“Perhaps,” Charlie said, gently. He stepped down into the pool and waded towards the schism-way. He placed his hand against the blackness, and it rippled, like a liquid.
“And this is what your friend wanted you to find?”
“I believe so.” He pushed his hand into the darkness, plunging elbow deep. “Somebody opened it from this side…”
“About a week ago?” Melisa guessed.
Charlie nodded. “Yes.” He took his hand away. He considered the schism-way for a long moment. “I have to know where they went, and why. I have to know if they brought something back to this world that does not belong.”
“Like a pet eating monster?” Melisa asked, trying to hide her unease behind a light tone.
“Probably not.” Charlie said, still pondering the schism-way. “I think something wondered through, because the door was left open too long.”
Melisa considered the grim waters of the pool, and weighed them against the prospect of the other worlds that might lay beyond the slither of darkness. “I’m game to see another Realm,” she decided.
“No.” Charlie held up a hand. “I do not know what lays beyond. It might be a world without air, or soaked in radiation, with a poisonous atmosphere.” He tapped his helmet. “I will be protected, you would not.” He paused. “If the creature is not on the other side, I do not know if it would be safe for you to wait here. Do you wish¬”
Melisa held up a hand to silence him. “I can look after myself. Go and do whatever you have to do.”
Charlie stepped forwards, and the darkness rippled, as it swallowed him whole.
Melisa stood alone, and watched the trickle of water into the pool from the storm drains, wondering what exactly she would do, if the dog-stealing predator happened to return to its lair.
Her fingers curled into fists.
00010
Rock Harris brought the Manta Jet down for a vertical landing at the quiet, provincial airport. Spurrier County was a tiny airfield, mostly used by small planes for private lessons, and weekend fliers. The tower staff had a long established…understanding with the Honour Guard, that allowed a certain degree of privacy.
Harris powered down the engines, and eased himself out of his chair. He was dressed in a tweed blazer over a charcoal sweater, and black trousers.
Phoebe was sat in the passenger seat. His wife wore a dark blouse, and an embroidered leather waistcoat, her hair tamed by a floral scarf. She flicked the ramp controls and followed Harris down to the hold.
Catherine Williams was perched on the hood of the Halo Cruiser, the silver sedan that was standard issue for Honour Guard operations. She was dressed in a leather trousers, and a bomber jacket. “I could have been there by now. I could have been there hours ago.”
Harris tutted. “You know the rules Driver has about the farm.”
“And you know why,” Phoebe added. “Shotgun.”
“Hey!” Catherine spluttered. “You can’t just…”
“Sure, she can,” Harris said, with a smile. “Funny. I would have expected you to be quicker.”
Reluctantly Catherine stepped into the back of the car.
Phoebe grinned at Harris, a glimmer of triumph in her eyes, and a note of mischief to the smile that stretched between her dimples, as she dropped into the passenger seat.
It was nearly an hour’s drive, into town, then out the other side and onwards through the bleak countryside. The mild winter cast a dank fog over the muddy fields, and banks of long grass. The charcoal sky threatened to rain.
They left the road and joined the track to Driver’s farm. Beyond the fields, the farmhouse and barns were hidden behind a grassy bank crowned with old trees.
They pulled up into the gravel yard, and climbed from the car. The gothic timber farmhouse was locked, the shutters closed over the windows. The barn was empty.
“Great!” Catherine looked up at the sky. “Where are they?”
A sonic boom echoed from the far field.
Harris lit himself a cigarette, and followed Phoebe and Catherine in the direction of the sound.
Matthew Driver was hovering over the field, in his quilted Praetorian body suit. Stacked next to him was a pile of scrap cars. At the far end of the field was Angel, his protégé. Between them were the scattered remains of cars that had been flattened, or bent double.
As best as Harris understood it, Angel was some kind of refugee, possibly from the alien menace that Driver had been created to defend Earth from. He’d found her shipwrecked in orbit around Jupiter and brought her back to Earth. She was meant to move on as soon as she found a way to leave the planet, but somewhere in the last few years had decided to stick around. Maybe she saw something on Earth worth fighting for, or may
be she thought Driver gave them a chance that her world didn’t have.
She was mousy and petite, dressed in all the colours of a peacock, with baggy trousers tucked in to riding boots, and several layers of satin and lace, topped by a deep hood, embroidered in a complex spiral pattern, and augmented with a veil as thin as silk, but with the appearance of solid brass. A single purple gemstone, set in silver, was stitched onto the hood.
Angel was stood at the other end of the field, in a defensive stance. “Again!” She cried, in her breathy, smoky voice. “A fast ball!”
Driver chuckled. “Well okay…” He gestured with a hand, and his aura of energy lashed out like a whip, and scooped up the next car from the pile.
Phoebe took Harris’s arm, and leant her head on his shoulder. “So… Do we think these two are… an item yet?”
Harris grimaced. “Do we think that is our business?”
Catherine chuckled. “Absolutely not our business, and they absolutely are.”
Harris looked at her. “Oh?”
She shrugged. “Well, neither of them noticed us yet, did they?”
Driver lifted the car with his aura, and hurled it down the field so fast it broke the sound barrier.
Angel clutched at her hood, and the gemstone on her hood glowed an electric blue and fired a beam of light, that struck the car. The car slammed to a halt as though it had hit a brick wall. It crumpled and flattened then fell to the dirt.
“Better!” Matthew shouted.
Angel bowed her head. “But am I good enough?”
Matthew gave her one of his smiles. “I have no doubt, you will find all the strength you need.”
Harris marched forwards. “Matthew!”
Matthew swept down hovering a little above the floor. “Rock!” He shook his hand. “Guys! Welcome! Sorry, you folks must be about ready for a beer?”
Catherine grabbed him in a hug. “Hey.” She let him go, and smiled at Angel. “Hey.”
Angel bowed her head. “My friends.”
“So…” Harris looked at the pair. “What does a man have to do to get a beer around here?”
Matthew chuckled. “Come on into the house. I have something to show you all.”
*
They gathered in the farmhouse kitchen. A bulky holo-sphere was sat on the dining table. Angel adjusted the controls on the base of the device, making the fishbowl like sphere glow within. Matthew closed the blinds on the windows, allowing the hologram shimmer into focus above the table.
It displayed the wrecked ship orbiting Jupiter.
Harris settled against the counter and sipped his beer.
Angel gestured at the hologram. “My friends, I wish to ask your help. The matter is… difficult. This is the ship I travelled to your system on.”
“We have been monitoring it for a while,” Matthew added. “And a few days ago, alarms started ringing.”
Angel adjusted the hologram, to focus on the damaged engines at the back of the ship. “The drive units contain three components that include a considerable amount of Alloy Six Three. While dormant it is perfectly safe, but if it grows unstable…”
Harris sighed. “How big a bang will it cause?”
Matthew rubbed his chin. “It could turn Jupiter into a star.”
“And…” Phoebe cocked her head. “That would affect Earth?”
Catherine shrugged. “We would wake one morning with two suns in the sky. Our eco-system would be impacted. Life would be thrown out of rhythm, but…”
Matthew stepped forwards. “We are more concerned that we might not be the only ones who spotted this. What happens if Johnny Reaper, or Geno-Syde finds out there is something up there worth grabbing?”
Catherine went cold. “What happens if… they detonate it on Earth?”
Matthew nodded. “I have spoken to Padmaja. She thinks that Paradox Labs might be able to convert it to beneficial power source. If we can transport it to her. That is a big ‘if’…”
Harris stared at him. “So, why are we talking about this here, and not at the HQ?”
“Because,” Angel said, softly, “here we are just friends, discussing a theoretical problem. If we discuss it at HQ we would be obliged to declare it to the Secretary of Defence.”
“And…” Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. “They might want to put the Alloy Six Three to other uses. Like feeding it through a Gene Foundry to make a dozen more of me. Or… to put it to some more creative work, as a weapon.”
“Huh.” Phoebe smiled. “You think more of you would be a mistake?”
“I’m not convinced making one of me wasn’t a mistake,” Matthew said, with a smile.
Catherine winced. “Cold fusion nukes. They could make clean nuclear bombs, and incinerate a continent, without irradiating the rest of the world.”
Harris held out a hand. “Now, hang on… if the thing you were built to defend us against ever turned up… Wouldn’t those be a blessing?”
Phoebe scoffed. “And if they get too impatient to use their new toy?”
Angel gestured to the hologram. “If you get me to the ship, I can, and will safely extract them.”
Matthew put his hand on her shoulder.
Phoebe and Catherine shared a knowing smile.
Harris gestured to Matthew. “You already made the decision on this?”
Matthew shrugged. “I know where I stand, but it would require the use of the Bumblebee, so it would have to be a decision by the Guard, not just me. Paradox labs will be ready in three months. If we agree, I will begin the operation at the first convenience.”
Catherine paused, as her pager vibrated. She took it out, and tapped the screen. “Guys, we might have to take a rain check on this decision. A jet liner just went missing over the Atlantic.”
Matthew straightened. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Catherine, and Rock can follow in the Manta.”
“And me!” Phoebe added.
“And you.” Matthew kissed Angel’s hood. “Practise your training regime. I will be back soon.”
Angel squeezed him in a hug. “Stay safe my love.”
Matthew’s smile was dazzling. “Of course.”
He stepped out onto the stoop, and took to the sky with a sonic boom.
Harris set down his beer. “Anybody else got a really bad feeling about this one?”
00011
“Why me?” Barney Mitchell muttered, as he took his fifth attempt at tying a bowtie.
Over his earpiece, Melisa Williams snorted something that might have been a laugh. It echoed oddly. “I’m sitting in a sewer, surrounded by the bones of pets that… something ate. Do you really want to swap?”
Barney puffed out his cheeks, and straightened his bowtie. “I hate monkey suit jobs. The food is always weird, I have to shake hands and pretend I know who people are… frankly…” He wrinkled his brow in thought. “Who are you with?”
“Yeoman,” Melisa said.
Barney took his bottle of beer to the window, and looked out over Washington. The evening was setting in, and the city was alive with lights, of buildings, of the strings of lanterns in the parks, and of the traffic rushing hither and thither. “Who?”
“Charlie.” Melisa sounded confused. “You’ve known him years. The English guy? Bare feet?”
“Oh.” Barney chuckled into his beer. “The Dweeb.”
“He isn’t…” Melisa groaned. “Do you really want to swap?”
“Not on your life.” Barney took another sip. “Why me?”
Melisa sighed. “Paradox Technologies are our third biggest sponsor. Seeing as they also run the museum, they asked nicely if we could supply an agent to represent their… diversity of interests. You are closest, available, and reasonably unlikely to embarrass us. Is that what you want to hear?”
“And I look good in a monkey suit?” Barney guessed.
“Unfortunately,” Melisa said, warningly, “my choices were limited in that area.”
“But,” Barney insisted, “I do wear s
hoes. How is the sewer?”
“Creepy.”
“Sucks to be you.” Barney laughed. “Well, I don’t want to embarrass you, so I better get going. Smell you later.”
“Seeya,” Melisa said, as the link clicked off.
Barney finished his beer, slipped on his jacket, and checked his suit one last time in the mirror. He scrubbed up nice, with a shave, and a good suit. He just didn’t like the faff and bother of doing the scrubbing, and he was never comfortable trying to maintain the standard. He toasted his reflection for luck, and finished his beer.
On his way out of the hotel room, he remembered to grab the rucksack with the Osprey suit in.
*
The Museum of Humanities was an ultra-modern building hidden behind a classical façade, that blended into the fabric of the city. The chrome, frosted glass, and neon lights of the space-age interior were a world away from the flagstones and columns of the plaza outside.
Barney circled the new exhibition (a collection of relics and artefacts found in the few Martian colonies found across the world), twice, looking at each of the glass display cases lit from within, surveying the VIPs, in their smart suits, and fancy dresses, weighing his chances of mingling.
On his second lap, the same young woman, fresh faced, and practical looking, in a pear green suit, and mustard waistcoat, was still stood at the same case, staring at the same marble mask, inlaid with an intricate pattern of gold and silver, with the distinctive Martian eye shape. The mask had a fanned crown, and a blunted beak.
Barney tilted his head, and considered the mask. “Okay, I can’t see it. What’s so special about the mask?”
The woman shrugged. “What do you think?”
Barney raised an eyebrow. “I think I don’t want to meet the guy who wore that down a dark alley.” He offered his hand. “Mitchell. Barney Mitchell.”
“Brandi Summers,” the woman shook his hand. “So, what do you do Barney?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, actually, I’m one of the Honour Guard.”
Summers choked on her laugh. “No really…”
Barney held up his lanyard. “See? And you?”
“Me?” Summers laughed. “I stand here and offer to tell people about the exhibits.”
