by Wells, Jack
The elevator bell rang. The doors were preparing to open and cut Svetlana’s thought process short. She grabbed a newspaper from a large marble end table and sat down in an oversized easy chair. The alien invasion was the headline and she began reading. At almost exactly the same moment, two men stepped out of the elevator. A third man stepped through the front entrance and a fourth came out of the stairwell. But there was no Zul.
She watched with amusement as the men circled and carefully looked for her. Holding the paper up to disguise herself, she checked her blonde wig and blue contact lenses in a small compact mirror. How did he knew it was me?
One of the men had stopped another and was pointing in her direction. All four began to cautiously surround her. Still no Zul, she thought to herself as the chaos fell into rhythm. With the melody strong now, she reached under her dress and retrieved the rope dart that had been strapped to her shapely thigh.
Svetlana leaped onto the coffee table in front of her chair and kicked its glass flower vase into the face of the closest attacker. Glass shattered, the force of the blow sending his stunned body backwards into a second attacker. They both fell in a pile on the polished marble floor.
The remaining two men looked up at Svetlana who was now gracefully spinning the rope dart methodically around her body. She gazed down from her perch with a cold smile that made them feel like they were the main course. With the index finger of her free hand, she pointed at them and motioned for them to come to her. The two men looked at their partners sprawled on the floor, her impressive display with the rope dart, and then at each other.
Their indecision let Svetlana do what she did best – take the initiative and dictate the fight. While they stood frozen, she suddenly shifted her weight and made the end of the table flip up. She used the momentum to somersault feet-first into the chest of an attacker, while at the same time flicking the lethal dart deep into the chest of the fourth man.
Shaken, the third attacker and one of the two knocked down initially were pulling themselves to their feet. Svetlana stopped one with a roundhouse kick to the head so hard that it broke his neck. As she brought the dart up to deliver an overhead hammer blow to the last man standing, she heard Zul’s voice from behind.
“I am impressed. You have managed to kill or maim some of the Network’s best agents. Now I am afraid that you must put down your toy, or I will blow a hole in your pretty head.”
Svetlana maintained the dart’s spin above her head and began a slow turn toward the voice that tried to order her. The man who had been her target a few seconds before moved to what he thought was a safe distance. She completed the turn and faced the man from the bridge.
Zul pointed the 9mm weapon at Svetlana from across the room. With a distance of eight meters he thought was a safe and with a little more authority in his voice, he commanded, “Drop your weapon or die!”
The melody was now so loud now that she fought the urge to finish Zul at that moment with a forward release of her dart. “Zul, do you think you are safe over there?”
He blinked nervously. “How do you know my name?” Not waiting for an answer, he went on. “I saw the video at the barn. You must be close to kill with that thing. It’s over now. Put it down.”
Svetlana sneered. “Of course I will.”
Instead of doing what Zul expected, she increased the dart’s spin and released it straight into his chest. The force of the blow sent him flying backwards through the hotel’s front window. His lifeless hand still held the gun when he crashed onto the hood of a parked car.
With the car’s security alarm blaring through the smashed window, she looked at the last man standing. “I don’t think your boss likes to play catch.” Then with false innocence in her voice, she challenged him. “I have no weapon. Don’t you want to hurt me?” The man was too afraid to move.
When she got no response, Svetlana snarled coolly at him. “Today is your lucky day. I will let you live. Tell your boss he’s no longer welcome in Europe, and I’m coming for him in the United States. If I ever see you again, you will have a very unlucky day. Now get out of here before I kill you and deliver the message myself.”
With no more indecision, the man ran through the front doors.
Consortia:
Just before Alont sneezed and gave away his hiding place under all the debris that had fallen on him from the roof, he heard an older Consortian ask the security guard what was happening. Then he demanded to speak to whoever was in charge of such a mess. The guard immediately started to stammer something about a Warrior breaking security and running for an exit. He cut the guard off in mid-sentence and demanded to speak to his superior. The guard was clearly on the defensive and started to say something about maintaining a perimeter. Again, he was cut off by an authoritative “Now!”
Alont heard the guard hurry away. Just when the guard’s footsteps trailed off, the weight resting on Alont’s back was suddenly lifted. They knew exactly where I was! But why did they send the guard away? He was quickly revealed by two large Consortians who subsequently pulled him up painfully by his injured arm. They stood him on his bleeding right leg.
The distinguished older Consortian looked at Alont with disgust and growled, “If this is Aydr’n’s most reliable Warrior, we’re in deep trouble.” He looked at the others with him and said, “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
As they hustled out of the damaged inter-dimensional spaceport, Alont realized these weren’t the Warriors that he expected and began asking questions. “Who are you? How did you know where I was?”
Before he could get out another question, the older Consortian hit him across the face. “Shut up, Warrior. The only thing I want from you is the micro pouch.”
Slightly dazed from the blow, Alont blinked hard and asked, “How do I know I can trust you?”
The old Consortian paused for a moment and then responded with resignation. “Fine, I’ll answer your questions. We’re the contacts that Captain Aydr’n told you to meet. We knew you were here because he put a homer in the pouch that gave us a brief message that you had arrived. We’ve been tracking you ever since you came out of the Travel Dimension. Your progress was so slow, I decided to come over here and get you. Because of all the commotion you caused back there, I’ll be sure and let your captain know the homer wasn’t necessary.”
Alont felt the sarcasm was unnecessary and couldn’t resist the urge to defend himself. “It wasn’t my fault. I tried to …”
The older Consortian glared at him and Alont flinched, expecting another blow. Instead of hitting him, he began scolding Alont. “What you did was put everything at risk. If they had gotten a hold of what you are carrying, many powerful Consortians would have been ruined, or worse. What you did was stupid. We can’t fight the University without a coordinated effort.” The older Consortian was quickly losing interest in talking to Alont. “I’ve had enough of this – now give me the pouch and go back to your assignment.”
Alont had hoped that talking with Aydr’n’s contacts would make him feel justified about what he was doing, but the feeling that he was aiding anarchy seemed to be making more and more sense. That wasn’t why he became a Warrior. He had pledged allegiance to the Consortium Code and changing out the current order with violence wasn’t part of the Code. Alont knew now that his captain’s orders concerning delivery of the pouch were illegal, but what could he do?
Alont realized that he would have to play along until he could figure some way out of the situation. “Right, of course, you want the pouch.” His mind raced for a plan as he looked back and forth at each of the men.
Suddenly, he realized two things. First – and most importantly – was that they weren’t tracking the pouch’s homer anymore. If they were, they wouldn’t be asking where the pouch was, they would be taking it from him. It must have gotten damaged when the roof fell. Second, that put him in control because he could tell them anything he wanted. The gods had smiled on him and the terrorists’ luck had just run
out. Yes, they were terrorists, and he had been trained to deal with terrorists.
Just as the oldest began to speak, Alont cut in with fake concern. “I must have dropped it by accident in the shuttle when we traversed the Dimension. ‘Jumping the gap’ can really get rough, you know?”
Without questioning Alont further, all three terrorists turned and headed for the exit leading to the shuttle. Alont knew he didn’t have much time. As they walked away, he overheard them say that once they found the pouch, they wouldn’t need him anymore. When they discovered that he lied about the pouch, Alont knew they would certainly kill him. He looked at their backs and then at the nearest exit. They had forgotten about him momentarily, but if he ran, there would be no one to stop them from hurting millions. He kept close and continued to look for a way to get rid of them first.
When they reached the shuttle and couldn’t open the hatch, Alont saw his opportunity. They obviously didn’t know much about the shuttle and that was how he would beat them. He walked up to the external hatch release and punched in the universal override code – the one the manufacturer programmed into all of their space vehicles. It was a safeguard that prevented someone from getting locked out and stranded on an alien world.
Alont smiled at the terrorists. “I guess you still need me after all.”
“Just get the pouch” was all he heard.
Trying to remain calm, Alont stepped back into the shuttle and pointed toward the rear. “I locked it in the security bin back there.” Moving casually into the cockpit, he continued. “I’ll just punch in the key code to release it.” Alont quickly punched in dimension shift coordinates to a famous black hole and set a twenty-second timer before the shuttle would automatically launch to that location.
When the bin failed to open, the older Consortian looked angrily at Alont. “It didn’t open,” he growled.
Alont acted scared. “You’re making me nervous. I must have put in the wrong code by mistake. I’ll try it again.”
This time, the bin popped opened and, luckily, revealed a large mesh bag stuffed full. One of the big Consortians looked up at Alont. “What is this?”
Alont, already inching toward the exit, couldn’t believe his good fortune and acted like he knew the bag was there. “That’s right; the pouch is all the way in the bottom. Just reach down to it.”
All three forgot about Alont and were busy pulling things out of the bag.
With a quick glance, Alont watched the timer count down to three. He looked at the three of them and said, “Goodbye.”
The hatch closed quickly as he jumped free. The last thing he heard was “Get him!” before they fell silent. Alont felt the ship’s eerie vibration as it prepared to jump and knew that the terrorists would soon make a fine addition to the black hole. He stepped away from the shuttle and watched it disappear, never to return.
It was dark on Consortia when Alont approached the University’s main entrance. The legendary organization filled the second-largest building on the planet and stretched into the distance. It was one of the red domed structures with massive spires that Alont had easily seen from the spaceport when he first arrived. He looked down at his dirty Warrior uniform and hoped that he could get past their first impression of him. The wide lobby was adorned in polished native stone and glowed with that iridescent light that always made Alont’s eyes burn slightly.
Tonight, he didn’t notice his watery eyes and walked right up to the reception desk. Its wide counter formed a security barrier in front of the line of elevators to the upper floors. One of the guards looked up casually as Alont stepped up to the metal-and-stone obstacle. “I need to speak to someone in charge.”
“You are a long way from home, Mister Warrior.” The guard sounded mildly suspicious and began to send him away. “No one is here at this time.”
The guard had no idea how much danger the University was in. Alont couldn’t give up. He had to warn them. “I have information about a terrorist organization that is planning to damage your University, or worse. My captain gave me the information on Searcher Wystl’s current mission. She may be in danger, too.”
Just then, a large door opened at the side of the lobby and a distinguished-looking scientist walked through. He walked directly up to Alont. “I’m Dr. Reggiald. Did I hear you say Wystl may be in danger?”
Washington, D.C.:
Martle’s phone vibrated, once again indicating Network business. As he picked up the small device, he hoped to hear that Interpol’s agent had been killed.
“Well?” he answered with anticipation.
“General, our mercenary and Interpol’s agent were the same person! Somehow, she tricked our security people. She killed Zul and his team except for one member. And worse…”
Martle cut him off. “What’s worse than that?”
“She let the man live so he could tell us that she’s coming after you!” Vlad explained.
Martle wasn’t worried. He had survived many battles, but he did want to live long enough to see Visen fall from power. Sitting alone in his empty office, the old general imagined the remainder of his life falling rapidly away like sand in an hour glass. Time was fleeting enough without knowing that someone was coming for you. Well, he needed help right now, but first he flipped on the audio monitor in Visen’s office. He wanted to see if he was still busy. He overheard the chancellor talking about Forge.
“That’s right, you imbecile, I meant to send Forge by himself. The girl won’t help him. She’ll do quite the opposite. She’ll need his help. In his current frame of mind – thanks to my help, by the way – he’ll die trying to save her from the aliens. That will be the end of the Corps’ legend. No more Dean Forge for me to worry about.”
Surprised and shocked at his luck, the general sat motionless and gazed at the now silent chancellor. He couldn’t believe his good fortune and played back the recording to make sure that it said what he thought he heard. Ever since Martle started the Network, he knew that he needed the colonel to be part of it, but Forge was as loyal as he was good at his job. The only way to get him to flip on Visen was to show him proof positive that Visen wanted him dead. Now he had the key to bring Forge into the Network, the organization that could stop Visen.
He turned off the recording and stepped to his office doorway. “Doctor Friedmark, would you come here, please?” It was time to add the good doctor to the Network’s growing list of operatives.
The gray-haired scientist peered curiously over the top of his computer screens at the highly decorated general. “Yes, general?”
“Doctor, I have something interesting I think you should see.”
With his interest sufficiently piqued, the doctor pushed up his glasses and hurried to Martle’s side. The general didn’t say anything, just motioned him into the office and locked the door.
“What I’m about to tell you could mean my life, maybe yours, maybe thousands of others. But first, I want you to watch the screen. I need your help in figuring out who the woman is that is killing my people. I have video of her as a brunette and as a blonde.”
“Of course, general, you can always count on me.”
Martel raised his eyebrows with a nod and smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
A female killing machine reflected on their corneas with chilling precision, methodically murdered one man after another. There was never any doubt, no question about who would win.
With obvious shock and a dash of terror on his face, the doctor finally tore his eyes from the carnage and stared at the general. Martel didn’t fill the silence. He wanted to hear the doctor’s initial response. The moisture in Friedmark’s mouth and throat had completely dried up as he watched the assassin at work. He tried to clear his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Martle wondered if he had made a mistake to think the doctor could handle such explicit gore. After all, he was a scientist, not used to bloodshed like Martle. Still, he needed the doctor’s expertise. He offered
the doctor a cup of coffee. “Here, Doctor Friedmark, this may help.”
“Thank you,” he said weakly, still trying to get his voice back.
Martle decided to provide some information while the doctor finished recovering. “I’m sorry to have to show you such graphic mayhem, but I need you to tell me who she is. I need to know everything you can find on her, and I need to know quickly.”
Finally, the doctor began to analyze what he had seen and agreed with the general. “Yes. We need to know about her. She reacted to her victim’s movements nanoseconds before they moved! She knew what they were going to do before they reacted…and that suit she was wearing – I recognize it!
“I didn’t think it would be ready so soon. I didn’t work on it myself, but a friend of mine told me about it a year or so ago. It stretches and feels like nylon, but it’s extremely strong and has some built-in tricks. She may work for Interpol, but that armor means she has ties to the UDC, and the unusual weapon she uses will help narrow my search. Do we have any DNA to go with face recognition?”
Martle smiled triumphantly. “Actually, we do have some of her DNA on a cigarette that she lit for the person she killed and knocked through the hotel window.”
“Well, General, that mistake will cost her anonymity.”
Chapter Ten
Alien Lunar Base:
A large alien entered Wystl’s control room with something that looked like a sack of potatoes draped across his back. With indifference, he dumped it on the floor. Sasha was next to stumble through the door, after being shoved by two more aliens.
She caught her balance and screamed in a desperate rage. “Let me take her helmet off! She needs air!”
Sasha watched the aliens’ eyes fall on Wystl for approval. Not waiting for a response, she pulled in vain toward Amy. After Wystl nodded, Sasha fell by Amy’s side and ripped the helmet from her wilted wing mate. Everyone watched as the helmet rattled noisily across the metallic floor. Sasha found a weak pulse but no breath sounds and blew air into Amy’s mouth. She watched as Amy’s chest accepted the precious oxygen. Soon, Amy was breathing on her own but remained unconscious.
