by Lars Teeney
“It’s really difficult to explain. It’s a type of deep, subconscious encryption that only the human brain can grasp. It is presented to our subconscious like a dream or nightmare. The data is contained within, of course, open to interpretation like a dream. If a computer was to analyze it there would be nothing to dis-cypher because it’s all illogical,” Ravine did the best he could to explain something that even he did not fully understand.
“Interesting. I had heard rumors in medical circles of a special strain of ‘Base the Regime used in interrogations,” Blaze recollected.
“Yes, precisely. It’s like a variant of the weaponized ‘Base they use. Graham must have leveraged his company to produce it and encode it with the secrets he’s trying to pass to me,” Ravine theorized in a mental state of haze.
“Okay, these are the doctor’s orders: you stay away from that last fucking dose of ‘Base until we get closer to the capital and you absolutely have to do it. You need to rest and recover because you are no good to us in this state,” Blaze was adamant. She blotted his forehead with a towel to soak up some sweat.
“Alright doc. You’re worse than my mother!” Ravine teased.
“Hey, shut up! I just spotted you so you could be a junkie. You’re going to follow my orders, dammit!” She punched him in the shoulder.
“Ah, careful. I’m still all fragile,” Ravine jested.
“Yeah, well, you need to rest up. Listen: just hang tight here, I need to run and gather some supplies and to eat something.” Blaze waved to him and hurried out the door. A haze of confusion washed over Ravine that lasted several minutes. He was having trouble willing himself to move. He figured that he better try to sleep the effects of the ‘Base off, so he struggled to turn over and he closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he drifted off to sleep, with dreams that were infected with residual imagery from his trip.
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The U.S.S. Iowa steamed at the vanguard of the Mothball fleet. The other battleships followed up in a chevron formation that screened the cargo and medical vessels. The fleet had entered the Bay of Panama and was within visual range of the entrance to the Strait. On the north bank of the Strait could be seen the skyline of La Chorrera. They had reached their destination at long last. Gale-Whirlwind, Hades-Perdition, Angel-Seraphim, and Pale-Silence were present on the bridge of the Iowa, along with Captain Eldridge. They all stared intently out the observation window toward the Strait off in the distance. They had been smiling to one another, and there was a celebratory mood within the bridge.
“Well folks, looks like we all made it without being killed in our sleep!” the Captain exclaimed. He had a way somewhat dampening the mood, but they were happy all the same.
The Apostates embraced one another. The Captain barked out orders to slow their speed and to relay the order to the rest of the fleet. Personnel jumped to attention and carried out the orders.
“I’m going to head out to the spotter’s tower to try to get a better look up ahead,” Hades-Perdition announced. He exited the bridge onto the weather deck and began to ascend a series staircases and ladders to reach the gunnery spotter’s perch. He had his choice M82 sniper rifle with him and propped it up on the parapet. Hades gazed through the scope at the mouth of the Strait and then to the skyline of La Chorrera. He made out the town shanties and stately houses in rows. He could see a few apartment buildings that rose several stories above every other buildings around. Then he caught a glimpse of a sizable fortification. He focused in on that structure: banners hung on all sides. From what he could see it seemed the banners were white, with crudely drawn black, encircled pentagrams. He also spied a series of gun emplacements: artillery pieces that were fully primed and ready to fire.
“Captain Eldridge! Order all battleships to prepare their batteries to fire. The fortress up at the mouth of the Panama Strait is fully-equipped with cannon. We need to hail the fort, and try to talk to them!” Hades-Perdition sent the message to the Captain via his neural implant.
“Hades, do they look like they are hostile? Are they mobilizing for an attack?” Eldridge responded.
“Negative. They don’t seem to be scrambling for an attack. But, it could be a trap to draw us in. It’s why we need to try to raise them,” Hades insisted. He continued to scan the fort for signs of hostility. It seemed to him like the defenders were too relaxed.
On the bridge, the Captain relayed orders to the other battleships in the screening formation to prepare to fire and to remain on high alert. The communications personnel used antiquated radio equipment to hail the town and the fort. They tried for nearly ten minutes before they received a response. The answer back came back.
“Captain, sir, the fortress has responded to our hails. They request that we hold our position. They want to meet with us in person before they let us through the Strait,” the radioman relayed.
“Very well, let them know we will honor the request. Tell them to prepare to receive our emissaries,” the Captain confirmed.
“Hades, We are going to hold the fleet at our current position. The leadership of the town would like to meet with representatives of our fleet before they let us through,” the Captain relayed the plan to Hades. Hades-Perdition climbed back down from the spotter’s perch and rejoined the group on the bridge. Blaze-Scorch also reached the bridge at the same time; she had just exited a motorboat that had ferried her over to the Iowa from the Hermes.
“Hades, what is your assessment of situation up ahead?” Pale-Silence inquired.
“It’s tough to say. They seem like the entity that is responsible for taxing trade around the Strait—seems pretty legitimate since they are well provisioned and armed. I say we meet with them—they probably want a toll for the fleet,” Hades theorized.
“That seems like a rather prudent course of action, as oppose to going in with all guns blazing,” Pale-Silence concurred with his assessment.
“I guess the question is: who will go on this excursion?” Angel-Seraphim had chimed in with a very concise question that reflected her many hours studying and conversing in English with Blaze-Scorch. She no longer spoke in a broken English, which shocked most of the crewmembers because none had mastered a second language as fast as Angel-Seraphim.
“I’m definitely going. I need to get a feel for what we are dealing with. Hey, where’s Ravine?” Hades noticed that he was not present.
“Oh, he’s actually helping organize some things for me on the Hermes. The hospital ward was quite a mess,” Blaze offered.
“Okay. Well, that’s nice of him,” Gale said suspiciously.
“I shall accompany you to the shore, Hades. I have a strong desire to stretch my legs on solid ground!” Pale-Silence confessed to the group.
“Count me in as well. I haven’t been to La Chorrera or the Strait since I was a child,” Angel-Seraphim announced.
“You’ve been to this town before? Definitely, you should come along,” Hades concluded.
“It’s been ages, but yes. Merchant families run the town. My father used to take us walking through the Merchant quarter to see all the stately homes of the Families,” Angel reminisced for a moment of a bygone period of her life.
“Yeah, I think I’ll stay with the fleet. I have some patients that will need my attention soon. I’m off,” Blaze informed them. As she was making for the exit, Gale moved to catch up with her.
“Blaze, mind if I join you in the mess?” Gale asked when she caught up to her side.
“Sure, come on. Let’s get some food,” Blaze invited her. The two exited the bridge, heading for the mess hall.
“Captain Eldridge, we’re going to go ashore. Can you keep you guns trained on the town? We need to leverage the threat of shelling the town in case anything goes wrong,” Hades was deadly serious. It would be the only ace up his sleeve surrounded by unknown threats.
“Will do, Hades. You know I will have you all covered.” Captain Eldridge was confident as usual.
“Shall we?” Pale-S
ilence gestured to the exit. Pale-Silence, Angel-Seraphim, and Hades-Perdition moved below decks to reach the armory. A guard unlocked it at the sight of the Apostate’s approach. Hades-Perdition, who had already geared up, waited outside the armory. The other two stepped inside the cramped chamber, surrounded with assault rifles and side arms of many makes. Angel-Seraphim picked up her old Mosin-Nagant bolt-action rifle, that she had hauled with her during her trek north. She stowed it over her shoulder and sheathed its bayonet. Pale-Silence grabbed a belt, which he fastened to his waist. Attached to the belt was a pair of titanium tomahawks: a type of hatchet weapon that had originated in the cultures of the Natives of the Eastern United States in antiquity. The tomahawk could be used in hand or thrown at a target. He also selected a scoped assault rifle from a weapon rack. They finished gearing up and hurried above deck, where a crew was busy lowering a small motorboat into the calm waters of the Bay of Panama via a winch and pulley system. The three started down a rope ladder that extended down the hull of the battleship and dropped into the boat. A fourth man attended the motor and rudder for the three Apostates.
The boat sped away from the gray, hulk of a battleship. The fleet had halted a good five miles out to sea from the mouth of the Strait. The water was calm so the going was made easy. The late afternoon sun was hot but showed signs of abating as it lost altitude in the sky. There was a light breeze on the sea that kept the humidity tolerable. Hades’s thoughts grew concerned with the onset of the evening; he did not like the idea of going on this excursion at night. He continually scanned the fortress and the town with his riflescope, but then it occurred to him that they were watching him back and may mistake his reconnaissance gathering as a threat, so he stowed his weapon.
As the small motorboat drew closer to the shore the scale of the fortification became clear to the passengers. It was a three level behemoth, hexagonal in shape, with howitzers bristling on every face. Angel-Seraphim felt a slight joyous feeling overtake her as memories of happier times flooded her mind. She gazed at the town skyline, and remembered walking the streets with her father near the old town hall, where they skipped rocks down at the waterfront by Fort Noriega. She peered upon the imposing walls of the fort and then gazed upon banners that were draped down the sides, near the top of the structure. Her heart sank when it registered what she saw: the crude, black encircled pentagram sigil of the Societatum Pentagram. She remembered helping to paint some of the banners in the past. She recalled how Monsignor Carafa wanted the banners to be purposely crude and sloppy: it was his trademark.
“Hades, Pale! I know that sign. Those people are bad. That pentagram, we have to turn back and attack them!” Angel exclaimed, pointing toward the pentagram banner billowing in the wind.
“What? Are you certain?” Hades asked in confusion.
“Yes! These are bad people, I used to be among their rank!” Angel warned.
“Are these the people that you told me you fled from, Angel?” Pale asked her showing concern.
“Yes, the pentagram: it’s the sigil of the Societatum Pentagram. They were trying to conquer all of Central America when I fled. I can’t believe they made it this far south!” Angel cried out. She wanted to take control of the craft and turn it back around toward the fleet and have them sail away, never to return.
“We don’t really know what the situation is here. It could be they fly their banners to show subservience. It doesn’t mean the people you speak of are here,” Hades suggested, looking through his rifle scope at the fort again. Nothing looked out of sorts to him.
“We should go back, now!” Angel grew livid that they continued onward.
“No. Look, this may be our only chance to cross the Strait, and we have to do it. We have to get to the capital! Let’s at least go and feel things out.” Hades had his mind made up, as they needed to meet with the town leadership to see what they proposed.
“Fair enough, Master Hades, If you feel like this is the most judicious course then I stand by you, with my tomahawks at the ready should things go south,” Pale reaffirmed his commitment to the cause with the stroking of one of his axes. It seemed his blood lust had gone too long unfulfilled.
“Alright. If this is what we have to do, I am in,” Angel agreed to move forward as well, albeit hesitantly.
So their motorboat moved onwards. It traveled under the shadow of the towering fort. A man stood on the shore with a flag, waving the boat onward to the marina at the foot of the fortress. The pilot at the rudder guided the boat along a wharf, and he moored the boat to it. The three Apostates stepped out of the boat and onto the wooden planks of the rickety dock. Further up the embankment, toward the foot of the fortress was a gate that was being opened. The three Apostates stood by anxiously to see what surprise lay in store for them behind the gate. As the doors were drawn open a gray car came sputtering out and traveled down the road leading to the docks of the marina. The car came to a stop and the driver rushed out and around to the passenger side door. He opened it for the woman who sat there. The dark-haired woman wore her hair piled on top of her head and what appeared to be a black evening gown. It had a slit that reached almost to the hip. She wore calf-high, black boots with a heel. Topping off the outfit was a white feather boa draped across her shoulders. Two armed men also exited the car, which the Apostates assumed were her bodyguards. The woman sashayed over to them. She stood for a moment looking at her query, then spoke,
“Greetings, travelers. I see that you certainly know how to make an entrance. I am Manuela Noriega, head of the Noriega family. I represent the merchant families of La Chorrera. Normally I receive advanced notice when a force of your size comes seeking to cross the Strait of Panama. So tell me, who you are and what are your intentions?” Manuela paced in front of them, taking stock of their appearances and weapons.
“Miss Noriega, pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Evan; my companions are Consuela and Morgan. Please accept my apologies for your town not receiving advanced notice of our arrival. I am truly sorry. I assure you that our group means no ill will. All we seek is safe passage through the Panama Strait to be on our way to New Megiddo.” Hades said calmly.
“Ah yes, I see, Evan. Well, aren’t you quite the stallion.” She strutted around Hades, making him feel uneasy.
“Well, yes. Ma’am I try,” Hades responded, trying to discourage the scrutiny of himself further.
“Tell me, where do you all come from? More to the point, what is your purpose?” Manuela prodded into their affairs. She turned her glance to the odd looking, demon man, then gazed upon Angel-Seraphim, who stared back with a look of suspicion.
“Miss Noriega, we are humble merchants, hauling supplies for the upcoming Born Again Gathering in New Megiddo. We set sail from California and must reach New Megiddo City in time for the event. We employ armed escort in case of piracy. Perhaps we can come to some financial arrangement to secure passage through the Strait?” Hades fabricated a cover story on the fly.
Manuela walked back to the front of the group to address them. She glanced at the three for another moment without saying anything. Then she nodded and smiled.
“Yes, yes, we can work out all the contractual minutia later. First, how about the three of you come to my gathering hall. Surely you must be itching to relax after such a long journey? Feel free to have your personnel leave your vessels to enjoy what our town has to offer. Plenty of accommodations.” Manuela stated seductively.
“Miss Noriega! We definitely appreciate your offer, we really do, but our fleet must be under way soon. It is paramount that we reach New Megiddo City.” Hades tried to explain the urgency in their situation.
“I completely understand your timetable, but surely you can spare a night, and humor your host? Besides, you cannot pass right now, anyway. I fear there has been a terrible accident in the Strait that has blocked passage. Most tragic, fishing vessels collided and sank right in the middle of the Strait. We are working to clear the wreckage. So, please, I insist you join me.�
� Manuela strode back to her rustic Volkswagen, Kübelwagen. The driver rushed to get her door and she took a seat, then he closed it behind her, “Welcome to La Chorrera, Evan. I am sure you will enjoy your stay here.” She said.
“Miss Noriega! One more thing: what can you tell me about those Pentagram banners you fly on the fortress?” Hades asked her hoping, to glean information about the Order.
“Oh, that? It’s just a sign of devotion to the Lord!” With that, the car sped away back through the gates of the fortress. The gates were left open with the anticipation that the Apostates would follow Manuela’s lead.
“I don’t like it, at all. You know it’s a trap, right?” Angel asked rhetorically. She unslung her rifle.
“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. We can’t go in looking like we’re about to shoot people. Let’s see what she has to say,” Hades argued.
“I’m telling you, they created that boating accident to block off the Strait. We’re just sitting at their mercy,” Angel continued to argue.
“Noted. It could very well be the case. But, we’re far from defenseless,” Hades pointed toward the line of battleships that screened the vulnerable ships of the fleet.
“I concur with Master Perdition, here. I believe we should venture forth and compile intelligence on La Chorrera. We can still communicate with our fleet. If the proverbial excrement collides with the rotary fan, we can have our battleships shell the town,” Pale explained.
“Alright, I’ll inform Captain Eldridge to order to keep the fleet on high alert, and combat ready,” Hades reassured everyone that they would not be taken easily if it was a trap.
“Fine. But, I still think that we will not like what we find inside the town,” Angel was skeptical and on edge.
“Now we venture into the jaws of the beast,” Pale said forebodingly. The three Apostates set out up the embankment on the path to the gate of Fort Noriega. The tension in the air increased with every step they took closer to the imposing fortress of cement and steel. Angel looked up to one of the pentagram banners that hung over the side of the fort. The bottom of the banner was wet; a drop of the mystery liquid hit her cheek and she recoiled. She wiped it off her face with her hand. The liquid was thick and viscous. Was this black paint or blood? She could not tell. She took the omen as an ill one, and all the violent experiences with Order came rushing back to fill her head as she walked.
