by Paul Cude
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Could it be any more awkward?" huffed Tank. "I wanted to tell you of course. But I didn't know where to begin. And I most certainly wouldn't have brought you had I known she was going to be here. Do you have any idea of the trouble she's going to be in?"
'That,' thought Peter, 'is the million dollar question.'
To be honest, he could have done without all this at the moment, but part of him was at least glad that he'd found out what Richie had been up to. In a way, it was better to know than be kept in the dark.
Suddenly turning to Tank, checking that no one was in ear shot, Peter declared,
"Oh God, what if June and Mildred find out about Richie?"
Tank's forehead creased in confusion.
"How would they find out?"
Leaning in close to his friend, so that he could whisper really lightly, Peter said,
"You must have heard that some of the King's Guard can read your deepest thoughts telepathically?"
Tank let out a great big belly laugh that attracted the attention of the few people remaining in the bar. After a few moments to catch his breath and wipe away a few tears from his eyes, he turned back to a very disappointed Peter.
"It's a myth. Something the King's Guards put around to keep everyone on their toes."
"How can you be so sure?"
"While it is possible to share your thoughts with someone telepathically, the key word here would be share. Another dragon cannot just roll in and take somebody else's thoughts without their consent. It's simply impossible. Trust me Pete. You do remember who my employer is, don't you? If he's told me once, he's told me a million times."
Feeling a little better on hearing that Gee Tee the master mantra maker had endorsed what Tank had just said, he still wasn't a hundred percent sure and knew that dropping off to sleep tonight and leaving his mind unguarded was going to worry him senseless. The sooner June and Mildred left, the better, even more so than before, now that he knew about Richie's secret indulgence.
Both returned their empty glasses to Janice, who seemed to be getting more disappointed by the second that Peter had taken more notice of Richie than he had of her. Tank dropped his friend off at home, with neither of them mentioning Richie on the journey back. Having waved Tank off, Peter trudged up his path to the front door, trying not to think about Richie getting it on with a human, for fear that either of the crazy old women waiting up for him would sense it. As he put his key in the lock and turned it gently, all he could think was,
'It's going to be a long ten days.'
2 Ice Breaker
Clapping his black, top-of-the-range gloves together in an effort to keep his hands warm and pulling another bitingly cold breath of air reluctantly into his lungs, he watched, fascinated, as even bigger icebergs floated into view. Not at any point during his long life had he experienced cold like this. Even with all his expensive thermal equipment, he still shivered painfully almost all the time. The most depressing thing was that he was still well over one hundred miles away from his destination, meaning that it could only get colder still. Knowing he should go back inside; it would be warmer of course, but the other passengers were driving him mad. Also, he had to acclimatise to these barbaric conditions and quickly. As well as a physically prepared body, he would need his wits about him, at least that's what he told himself as his crisp breath appeared before him as he exhaled and drew in another distressing lungful of freezing air.
Looking over the side at the decidedly beautiful but deadly sea, he cursed his luck for being given this of all assignments. What was the council thinking? Did they not realise what a waste of his valuable skills this was? Anger welled up inside him. A hundred years in the King's Guard, and here he was being sent to look for some lost scientists.
"Oh and by the way," the council had said, "if you see any sign of the mysterious and long lost naga community on your travels, could you report back immediately." Banging the wooden rail in frustration, his hand throbbed through the expensive gloves. So now he was a diplomat, as well as a glorified scientist babysitter. Pulling his furry hood closer around his stubbly cheeks, he sighed in frustration, almost ready to go back inside.
'All my infiltration, fighting and weapons training and it comes down to this,' he thought, taking one last look over the rail. 'Where did I go wrong? Have I offended somebody on the council? If I have then no one's ever said anything to me about it. I've always carried out my missions with dedication and exact precision, and never failed at a single one. I can't believe I'm stuck here at the arse end of the world doing this,' he mused, walking up the deck to the nearest door that led inside, before going through it. 'The sooner I unearth these scientists the better, and boy, am I going to give them a hard time when I do find them, for dragging me all this way, in these atrocious conditions. Not even allowed to travel by plane, because of my cover and the equipment I'm carrying,' he reflected, closing the metal door behind him as the much warmer air wafted across his exposed face.
Born Dendrik Ridge, just about everyone called him Flash. Having joined the King's Guard straight from the nursery ring, which in itself was quite unusual, he'd found out the reason he'd been selected from one of his instructors, who on his death bed had confessed to him that they had gone through a phase of recruiting young dragons with behavioural difficulties, particularly ones with short tempers who had a tendency to use unnecessary violence. Flash had been astonished to learn all this from his former instructor, and after a prolonged period of mourning that hit him pretty hard, he redoubled his efforts at the training, vowing to channel his volatile temper into his work, eventually coming out top of his class, enabling him to eventually be offered a place in the very secretive Crimson Guards. While the King's Guards were considered to be the most elite troops in the dragon world, answering only to the council, the Crimson Guards were one step above all that again. In times gone by, the king would have a number of agents that would carry out missions on his behalf, some sanctioned by the council, some not (so called 'shadow missions'). In the past five decades or so, that had all changed. On the king's orders, the anonymous Crimson Guards had been brought into being by one of these former agents; the dragon in question had been lost on a mission many decades ago, or so rumour had it. Flash had been part of the Crimson Guards for over four decades.
Flash's current mission was to recover the scientists that had gone missing on not one, but two, previous expeditions to Antarctica. They'd been working for the Australian Antarctic Division (AAD) at a base called Antarctic Station Casey, one of four permanent bases Australia has in the area. Their cover story included studying the effect of climate change and its impact on the wildlife and vegetation in the immediate area. Little had been known about the disappearance of the scientists, only that both parties, on separate occasions, had gone missing in bad weather, and contained dragon members only, not that the humans of Casey Station knew this. With the frigid Antarctic climate varying between 9.2°C and -41°C with winds gusting around 100kph, occasionally reaching 160kph, the two groups disappearing in bad weather wasn't as far-fetched as it seemed. However, for two groups to go missing, a month apart, containing only dragon members, was... odd! Of course the dragons would be limited by not being able to use any of their magical abilities due to the extreme cold, so from that point of view it could be possible, but still... it was ever so unlikely.
Like every other dragon, Flash knew a great deal about Antarctica. As hostile, remote environments go, it was like no other, being the coldest, windiest, highest continent on earth. As well as containing seventy-five percent of the world's fresh water frozen in its ice caps, Antarctica is twice the size of Australia. Anyone exposed to the elements here could expect blizzards, frighteningly high winds, frostbite and exhaustion. All of which would be child's play, if Flash could access the dragon powers locked away in his human shaped body, but because of the extreme cold, just like the lost scientists, he couldn't.
Since Casey
Station was the last place the scientists had been seen alive, he'd made sure to read up on it. One of four Australian permanent bases, the present day Casey Station was opened in 1988. Built from a steel frame on concrete foundations, covered with an external skin of steel clad polystyrene foam panels, the base consists of sixteen buildings, all painted in bright, bold colours. Situated on the Windmill Islands in the midst of Wilkes Land in East Continental Antarctica, it lies near the Law Dome, a small ice cap, 1300m high, 200km in diameter, and also the Nanderford Glacier, which is the major ice outlet for the Law Dome, at the southern end of the region.
The station itself boasts all the usual things you'd expect to find somewhere so isolated, as well as a living area in the Red Shed that includes indoor climbing facilities, a home theatre, gym, a well stocked library and communal sitting areas. There is also a bar called Splinters, where the hard working community spend a lot of their free time. Flash was surprised to learn that part of the station was devoted to a special hydroponics building, where they are able to grow such things as lettuce, tomatoes, green vegetables and fresh herbs. All in all, it is quite a setup for somewhere well off the beaten track.
Some thirty-six hours later, the ship Penguin Emperor came within sight of the Windmill Islands, nearly at the end of its 3835km voyage from its starting point of Perth, Australia. Approaching the land mass, huge icebergs the size of houses littered the landscape like popcorn on a cinema floor. Flash, like most of the other passengers, had come out on deck, despite the flurry of snow, to witness the ship's arrival at Casey Station. In the distance he could just make out the different coloured buildings. Some were gold, green, yellow and red. The other passengers were pointing, some waving at long lost friends. Most were scientists, like Flash was supposed to be, with the exception of an engineer and carpenter, all of whom Flash had talked to whilst trying to gain any insight into his covert investigation. Every single one had bored him senseless. It was all he could do to remain in their company for more than a short while.
Two more hours passed before they started unloading the equipment. Like the other scientists, he pretended to be over protective when it came to all the gear he had brought aboard. It was all cutting edge stuff, and he'd been thoroughly briefed on what it did and how it worked. However, he had to be careful not to be caught out by any of the other scientists on the base. There were some incredibly smart people out there, and although little was known about the type of work he was supposed to be doing, he wouldn't put it past some smarty pants on the base to know enough to catch him out. After all, his primary mission was to recover the scientists, or at least find out what had happened to them.
He'd thought being on the ship and practising his breathing would prepare him adequately for his arrival at Casey Station. How wrong he'd been. Nothing he'd done came close to readying him for the biting cold that assaulted his very being, as he helped move the equipment from the dock to the main base. Wind battered his semi-exposed face, while huge blobs of wispy snow burnt him, at least that's what it felt like.
After what seemed like two lifetimes, the last of the equipment was finally moved off the boat and into the base. Completely exhausted, never in nearly one hundred years had he ever felt so wasted. The cold had taken its toll, totally and utterly. Heading for his quarters, which he'd been shown earlier when he'd brought all his personal stuff off the ship, all he wanted to do when he got there was sleep, but by the time he'd slipped off his outer layers, he'd changed his mind, deciding that a shower was way more important. Heading back from the washroom that he was expected to share with two other people due to the limited space on base, he caught sight of a card that had been tucked under his door. Bending down wearing just a green towel, he picked up the card and turned it over. It read:
Greetings Party at Splinters Bar 19.00... be there!!!!!
Shaking his head in dismay, as the last thing he wanted to do was meet lots of new people, he checked his latest wristwatch, one that he'd procured and modified especially for this particular mission. It was a magnificent piece of engineering from the humans, enhanced even further by himself, with the help of a few very select and secretive mantras. The timepiece was a Polar Surveyor Redesign by Kobald, the choice of most discerning polar explorers. Incredibly crafted, designed to perform in the harshest of environments, the normal watch itself was magnificent. Flash's upgraded version saw it equipped with eight toxic darts, titanium tipped, each one capable of felling an elephant almost instantly, a microscopic GPS transmitter and the ability to cause quite a large explosion, if needed, but that particular function would mean sacrificing the watch itself. All in all, it was very 'James Bond.' The time showed it was 15:51. Flash decided to grab a couple of hours of sleep, before heading on over to Splinters for the greetings party. If nothing else, it would at least give him a chance to check out quite a few of the other residents, telepathically, to see if they had anything to do with the missing scientists.
Much later that night, Flash staggered back to his quarters, through the deserted labyrinth that was Casey Station.
'Boy,' he thought to himself, 'these guys sure know how to party.' He'd thought he was tired earlier, but now he could barely stand up due to fatigue. Reflecting on the evening, he thought of it as a partial success, having managed to convince everyone that he was a lonely scientist, slightly nerdy and introverted. In all honesty, they didn't need much convincing. He'd been one of seven new arrivals, all of whom had to take part in a series of challenges, most of which had involved alcohol as a forfeit in some way, shape or form. Thanks mainly to his dragon constitution, he'd remained relatively sober, even though he'd had to pretend to be rather drunk, not really a problem for him, as blending in was one of the many skills he'd mastered over the years. Throughout the evening he was able to telepathically scan just about everybody present, with only half a dozen members or so missing due to being on duty and had come a lot closer to understanding the environment he was in. Ruling residents out of having something to do with the disappearance of the missing scientists was in fact much easier than having to covertly chase shadows in the dark.
Slumping onto his mattress, although part of his mind was screaming at him to get undressed and get into bed, he was just too tired. Instead, he closed his eyes and thought that falling asleep fully clothed was in character with someone who'd consumed too much alcohol. Seconds later, he was snoring like a pig with sinus trouble.
Days passed with most of Flash's time spent within the confines of Casey Station, setting up his state of the art equipment. Longing to get outside the station and begin his search proper for the missing dragon scientists, he knew appearances were important, and that he must not arouse too many suspicions. So he played his part, working hard, seeming nerdy, geeky and not being a threat to anyone. In the meantime he'd telepathically scanned the missing residents from the greetings party and had found nothing out of the ordinary. From this he concluded that no one on the base had anything to do with the disappearances; the guilty party, or parties, had already shipped out, if indeed they existed at all. Either someone living in the area but outside the base had something to do with it all, or indeed, it may just have been what everyone thought, that there had simply been two unconnected accidents in the harshest environment on the planet. He found it easy to believe that everyone at Casey was completely innocent; the possibility of someone here previously having some involvement and then leaving in the meantime was very real, however. In the hope of retrieving details of everyone who'd left over the last few months, he would have to try and gain access to the base's mainframe. As far as believing that somebody could survive out here, but not on the base, that took more than a little imagination. Difficult to rule out of course, something about it just didn't ring true. Two separate accidents were looking increasingly likely, but the more he thought about it, the more something at the back of his mind screamed, "NO!" at him. Over time, he'd learned to trust the little voices inside him, because they'd been right in the past, al
most all the time.
Two days later, after proving that he was qualified on all the station's vehicles and passing a very simple health and safety course, Flash got his wish. Opting to take a skidoo with a heavy field sledge for his equipment, rather than one of the much smaller quad bikes, he packed up early and was ready to leave before most of the residents had even begun to start their day. Before setting off, he checked that he had all his equipment. Not the scientific stuff of course. No, his personal equipment that he had specially prepared for this particular part of the mission. His watch was fully functional, with not even a hint of it icing over in the harsh temperatures. It was fully loaded with eight toxic, titanium darts, with two more clips each with eight darts hidden in his belt buckle on his trousers beneath the cold weather gear that he wore. The darts in his watch were activated by his pulse, which in turn was constantly monitored by an ingenious bit of technology mounted into the underside of the wrist strap. If needed, he could unleash all eight darts in under three seconds, and they could pierce just about anything. It did give him a little extra reassurance, on top of all his training and special talents.
Scrolling through the watch's functions, he checked the GPS transmitter was working properly, and that the self destruct checked out. Bending his left knee, he lifted his boot up behind him and tapped the smallest looking irregularity in the sole, once. Out shot the meanest looking knife in the world. Glinting in the bright Antarctic sunlight, deadly barbs adorned one side, with a razor sharp edge traversing the other. Feeling its comforting weight in his gloved hand, Flash tossed it lightly into the air, catching it by its handle as it came spiralling back down. Slickly he hid the blade back in its housing, concealed in the bottom of his boot. Last, but by no means least, he checked with his left hand that he had his necklace on, and that the ring on the index finger of his right hand was still firmly in place. There was no reason why either of these wouldn't be there, his body would have told him if they weren't, because both ring and necklace were made from laminium, and were the most valuable items that he owned. Checking them physically with his hand was more of a ritual than a necessity, but he hadn't gotten this far in his career without looking out for the small details.
