9:12 P.M...
At the bottom of the world...
The Vulcan Station resided near the South Geomagnetic Pole at the center of the East Antarctic ice sheet. It was also located five miles away from where the Dry Clouds’ Curtain ended south.
A helicopter flew over the icy land of white and blue, racing a coming snowstorm.
A Council S.C.M. pilot talked to his three passengers on their headsets. "E.T.A. five minutes. Once we land, make sure to take everything with you. I’ll be lifting off once you clear the landing pad and won’t be back till this storm clears. It could take me a few more days to return for you than what you planned to stay." He glanced at the younger of the two men. "Make sure you accomplish your task by then."
The passengers nodded their understanding and started on their gear. Any part of their body exposed to the frigid elements could freeze. They pulled on their full head and neck cold weather masks made of a soft nylon-coated neoprene. The three put on gloves, checked their boot buckles, and zipped up their brown fur-lined, hooded, white parkas.
The helicopter landed. The two men and a woman disembarked with bags of equipment and clothes and headed toward the facility. A polar wind hit them the moment they stepped off the aircraft, chilling them to the bone. They hurried toward the station. Once they cleared the pad, the helicopter lifted off and threw snow on them. The three stopped at the entrance.
The younger man urged, "Hurry, Dr. Seeker. Before we freeze out here."
"I’m going as fast as I can." The older man placed his right gloved hand on a machine. A thermal scanner read his palm through the material, and the device confirmed his identity. "There, now we can go in."
The facility’s metal door unlocked, slid up, then two S.C.Ms. rushed out. They wore dark blue parkas with white fur-lined hoods. They aimed their black FAMAS at the three. The two men and the woman raised their hands as the head of the Vulcan Station followed behind the Corporate Military men. He wore a white parka.
"Dr. John Gelid?" the older man questioned, wondering why they were being treated this way.
"Yes." The head of the facility offered his gloved hand and shook the older man’s. "And you would be Dr. Robert Seeker." John motioned for the S.C.Ms. to proceed. "Scan them, make sure they are human, then search them and their things."
"What’s the meaning of this?" Robert demanded as he and his companions lowered their hands.
John smiled, trying to reassure them. "Don’t worry, Dr. Seeker, this is only a precaution. Of what we know, we are the only Factory facility still in operation." The wind whipped the brown fur of his hood. "We have to remain operational till the Sphinx Corporation Main Branch Office can send us in some support. And I’m sorry to say, but the T-3s are very clever."
A S.C.M. looked around skittishly. "One of those flipped out machines already tried to enter the station two days ago." He eyed the younger of the two men. "Now isn’t a good day for taking in new recruits."
"Lieutenant Bentley!" John snapped. "I believe we have frightened our guests quite enough."
"You might run the station, Dr. Gelid, but security is my responsibility." Bentley walked over to the younger of the two men. "Who is this, Dr. Seeker?"
"My assistant Charles, Charles Smith. I vouch for him. He’s worked with me for years."
Bentley snarled at the assistant. "I don’t trust him. He’d better be on his best behavior."
"What’s this?" the other S.C.M. questioned the woman.
"A cigar box." She opened the ten inch by ten inch container. "Cubans. One of my vices."
The S.C.M. nodded, seeing the cigars. "All clear."
"Good, let’s get out of this arctic air." John waved for the three arrivals to follow him in. "Dr. Seeker, you were supposed to be here days ago."
"Yes, I'm sorry." Robert paused to let the woman walk in before him. "There was a hold up getting a pilot and a helicopter to fly us down here."
The door slid shut once everyone was in. Bentley locked the door and had the other S.C.M. guard the entrance.
"Well, we’re glad to have you here. I hope our work can help Research Project Clean Air." John pushed down his hood, removed his mask, and unzipped his parka. He took off the coat, revealing he wore several layers of clothing. "You should find our ice core samples helpful in your research."
Everyone else removed their cold weather masks.
"It's what I’m hoping for." Robert unzipped his coat. "Since the cores contain climate records for almost a million years, I'm confident they will shed some light on the planet’s Dry Cloud problem." He removed his gloves. "One thing we haven’t been able to explain is why those born in the Dark Half and those that lived there several years can breathe the polluted air without some side effects. There are particles of petroleum and other harmful elements in the air. So why aren’t traces of them found in the blood or lungs of the Dark Half’s residents?" Robert scratched his head. "One of many puzzles like the biggest one of all. What caused the Dry Clouds? They appeared overnight. I guess we won’t solve the mystery so quickly." Robert glanced around. "So, where do we start?"
"You don’t wish to rest or at least freshen up?" John asked.
"No." Robert rubbed his hands together to warm them. "I would prefer to get to work."
"Right, then." John motioned to the lieutenant. "I'll have Bentley take your things to your rooms, and we can begin."
Robert nodded and said, "Stephanie."
The woman stepped forward. "Yes, Dr. Seeker."
"Go help the lieutenant."
"Yes." She grabbed some of their suitcases and followed Bentley. Once they were some distance down a hall, she asked, "Do you have much wildlife here? I didn’t see a thing the helicopter ride over."
Bentley looked annoyed over his bellboy job. "Only the occasional lost Skua. It’s a brown bird." He glanced at her. "There wouldn’t be an extra Cuban in that box of yours? Would there?"
"We’ll see. Maybe one."
They turned a corner.
"This way Dr. Seeker and Mr. Smith." John walked down a hall, opposite the one the lieutenant went down. "The main lab is this way."
Before the men followed, a loud noise boomed from the entrance. The S.C.M. guarding it turned, taking a few steps back as the large door shook. Something hit the entrance again, and the metal door vibrated, toppling ice to the floor. The third, fourth, and fifth hits smashed the side of the door, and the S.C.M. leaped back. Five T-3s stood outside, covered with snow and ice. They held a six foot battering ram, dropped it, and started through the opening. The S.C.M. shot, and the T-3s evaded his fire. He started to radio for help, but a T-3 shot him in the head.
"Run!" John shouted. "The T-3s have penetrated Vulcan Station!"
Chapter Fifty-six
The Takeover of Vulcan Station
Five T-3s smashed their way into the facility. Their searing scarlet dot-light glowed in the ice dust. Bentley and Stephanie ran back down the hall, joining the three men.
"Un-Men have broken in," Bentley radioed. "Security to the entrance." He opened fire. "Doctors, run!"
The three men and the woman rushed further into the station. Soon, ten S.C.Ms. ran in, passed them, and opened fire on the T-3s. They managed to disable one of them, but lost five of their own. The remaining four T-3s marched forward.
"Fall back!" Bentley ordered, but before he or his men could react, a metal sphere the size of a golf ball rolled past him toward the T-3s. The sphere halted, glowed, and shrilled. Bentley turned. "A high impact grenade. Get down!"
The blast knocked the S.C.Ms. to the ground and destroyed the T-3s. Bentley peered up as the snow and ice settled. His body felt on fire. He wasn’t sure what had happened or who threw the grenade?
Stephanie walked past a pile of cigars she’d dropped to the floor. She had removed the Cubans to pull out the hidden explosive. Stephanie moved to Bentley’s side, holding the empty cigar box in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. She placed the box on the ground, put the cigar in
her mouth, and picked up an assault rifle from one of his dead men. Stephanie made her way to the T-3s and put a bullet in each of their foreheads. She returned to Bentley's side.
Blood trickled from his mouth. "Why did you..."
"Shh..." She knelt beside him. "Quiet. The Un-Men are dead. Everything will be alright now."
"Why did you throw the grenade so close to us?" Bentley looked to the other S.C.Ms. "You should have waited till we were clear. You’ve killed them."
She lightly smacked him on the cheek twice. "I didn’t want to waste the explosive only on the Un-Men. You know the saying, why drop one egg when you can drop two?"
"What? I don't understand," he said.
"Maybe you'll understand this..." Stephanie removed the cigar from her mouth and placed the Cuban in Bentley’s. "One for the road." She stood and shot him in the heart then made her way to the remaining men.
"Oh my Zeus! Stephanie, what have you done?" Robert questioned.
"What I was told." She grinned, aimed for Dr. Seeker, then changed aim and shot Charles between the eyes.
The assistant slumped to the floor then blood pooled around his face.
"Hades! She’s here to destroy the station," John said, backing up against a wall. "I take it you work for the Council?"
"She’s here to kill us?" Robert blurted and shook his head. "No. My work."
"Yes, I work for the Council," Stephanie answered. "And I'm here to secure Vulcan Station, but I’m not here to kill you two."
"You aren't going to kill us?" Robert sounded relieved.
"No." She motioned with her weapon for them to go into a small lab. Stephanie closed and locked the door then turned to them. "The Council said to leave you two alive, that your work could be valuable to them." She leaned the assault rifle against a wall and walked over to a table. Stephanie found a laser cutter that was used to slice the ice cores into pieces. She tested it on the table, and the laser burned small holes into the top. "But they said nothing about torture." Stephanie made her way to them.
"Be reasonable," John said. "If you hurt us, why would we work for the Council?"
"Fear," she answered.
"Fear?" Robert questioned.
"Yes, fear. Fear I’ll do it again if you do not do as the Council wishes." She turned the laser on them.
Seconds later, the men screamed.
* * *
Somewhere in Noir...
The Chamber...
"Cerberus has completed its mission," Ms. Nona reported. "With one test, Cerberus has surpassed Pandora."
"Yes, the new experiment did not hesitate to kill the S.C.Ms. or Charles Smith." Pleased, Mr. Decuma smiled. "Cerberus did not disobey orders."
"Yes, a fitting first trial," Ms. Nona added.
"Pandora never disobeyed," Mr. Morta retorted. "We never gave it any orders, but one. Stay alive. And that it did."
Mr. Decuma smacked his hand on the table. "You must admit it! Pandora is a failure!" He calmed himself. "It is time for its termination."
"Yes," Ms. Nona agreed. "And what better way than to have Cerberus kill Pandora. The test will prove the superiority of the new project."
Mr. Morta said, "I believe it is premature to eliminate Pandora. We can still learn..."
Mr. Decuma interrupted, "This time you have been out voted."
"The first time this Council has not been of one mind," Ms. Nona said. "And hopefully the last."
"Pandora’s fate is out of my hands." Mr. Morta nodded to an analyst. "Give Cerberus its orders. The new experiment is to find Pandora and report in."
The male analyst nodded and relayed the order.
"So, Pandora," Mr. Morta thought. "Your time is coming to an end. I hope what little time you have had has been put to good use."
Chapter Fifty-seven
Prelude to:
Book Two
From Moscow, With Love
9:45 P.M...
Hellenistic Sector, Old Business Vicinage...
Nikolai and Natasha walked into Jack’s Hard Luck Pawn, one of many dealers on Wayfaring Lane. They removed their Winnow Masks. The colossal man with a buzz cut wore a black trench coat. He stood by the front door as his sister proceeded to the owner. Natasha waited till the only other customer left the shop.
With her heavy Russian accent, she started, "I heard you’re the man to see." Natasha raked her hand through her long black hair.
"What you looking for?" Jack lit a NicPhake cigarette and took a long drag as he looked her up and down. "Jewelry? Watches?"
"We’re bird hunting," she replied.
"Bird hunting, you say?" Jack raised a gray eyebrow.
"Yes, a very rare bird."
"Rare? What are..."
Nikolai moved forward and interrupted the owner, "We arrived from Moscow. Voice said you could help us."
"Puck... Why didn’t you say so to begin with?" Jack waved for the two of them to join him behind the counter. "Come with me. I’ve got some stuff in the back that should be to your liking." He rang a buzzer at a door and waved at the security camera. "You guys look professional. You here to hit anyone I know?"
Natasha and her brother moved behind the counter and stood behind Jack.
She answered, "All you need to know is that a mistake was made."
Nikolai added, "And we are here to rectify it."
The door unlocked, and Jack proceeded in as they followed. Five rough looking men stood in the next room. Two hung out talking, while the other three cleaned guns. The room fell silent as all five men watched the two outsiders enter.
Impressed, Nikolai stroked his black goatee as he looked around. "You have enough weapons in here to supply a small army."
"Yeah." Jack puffed on the cigarette. "I inherited the place from my cousin, Wayne. He was well connected, but couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Pucking looser... His loose lips got him killed." He took the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked white-pink ash in a Styrofoam cup of old coffee. "So, what you need?"
Nikolai answered, "The guns are on this list."
"And throwing knives," Natasha interrupted her brother.
Jack took the list, looking it over. "This I can do." He pointed to two of his guys. "Get what they need." Jack handed the men the list, turned to a computer, and typed out an invoice.
The two men left and returned a few minutes later. One of the men walked up to Natasha.
"So, which one of these bad boys is for you, babe?" The man patted the guns. "By the way, the name’s Ron."
"None of those." She studied the man, that was about six inches taller than herself. "The knives are mine. They are my Sweets."
"Sweets, huh..." Ron handed them to her. "So, a fine babe like yerself likes to play with sharp things. You like to play with dangerous things. How about we step out for a little while? I’ll show you something dangerous. Maybe something a little sweet."
Nikolai moved toward the man. "She is not interested."
Natasha said nothing, knowing what was coming. She removed her white fur-lined black coat, revealing tight fitting red leather pants, vest, and boots. Natasha placed the coat on the back of a chair and inserted a set of throwing knives in a sheathe around each wrist.
"You her boyfriend?" he asked the Closer.
"No," Nikolai replied. "I am her brother."
"Stay out of this then,” Ron said. “It's none of your business."
She thought, "If only he had dropped it. My brother might have only punched him in the mouth."
Nikolai controlled his anger. "She is not interested in the likes of you."
Ron jabbed his finger in the colossal man’s chest. "You’re her brother, not her mother. Let the babe decide."
Jack hit the print button on the computer for the invoice. "Don’t do anything stupid, Ron."
"I know what I’m doing." Ron caressed her butt. "So what do you say, babe?"
The veins in Nikolai’s neck bulged with fury, and his eyes went wild like a mad grizzly bear. With one massive hand,
the Russian reached out, grabbed the man by the throat, and choked him. The other men in the room drew their weapons and aimed at the siblings. Ron pulled a Glock 19. Nikolai grabbed his wrist and squeezed it, till Ron released the gun and it hit the floor.
"Wait!" Jack cried out to his men and motioned with his hands. "Put your guns down." Sweat beaded his face, fearing the situation would get out of hand. "You don’t know who these two are. If Voice sent them... Well... They’ll kill ya." He swallowed hard. "Puck! They’ll kill all of us."
His men reluctantly complied as Nikolai continued to choke Ron. Natasha put her coat back on.
"You do not touch my sister in an impertinent way. No one treats my sister that way."
The man clawed Nikolai’s arm, unable to breathe, and his eyes bugged out.
"Please, be reasonable," Jack pleaded. "Puck, let him go, and he can apologize."
"No." Nikolai squeezed harder and the veins in his hand bulged. "I warned him. So, I offer no mercy."
Natasha walked over to her brother and rubbed her hand up and down his back. She moved to Ron, leaned to him, and whispered in his ear, "From Moscow, with love." Natasha nodded to her brother, and Nikolai forcibly turned the man’s head toward her. She French kissed Ron as he clawed at her brother’s arm. She finished and stepped back. “We will have to write up extra paperwork on your death, but I am pleased, and that will make it worth it.”
Ron’s eyes rolled back, Nikolai released his corpse, then reached down, and picked up the Glock 19. "His weapon is now mine." He tucked the gun in the back waistband of his pants.
Natasha looked down at the dead man and smiled. "You had asked me a question. You wanted to know what I say. I say you should have listened to my brother." She turned to Jack. "How much do we owe you for the weapons?"
Unable to say anything as he stared at the dead man, Jack handed her the invoice with a shaky hand.
She stated, "Voice will have the funds in your account by tonight."
Still shocked, Jack nodded.
Natasha and her brother headed out with the guns in two large duffle bags. Outside, they put their Winnow Masks on and checked the streets for police. They placed the duffle bags in the trunk of their black Cadillac. He unzipped one, removed a case, and opened the container.
Noir, City Shrouded By Darkness Page 28
