Lara Croft - New Life, New Adventure
By John Carter (68)
Tomb Raider and Lara Croft copyright Core Design LTD and Eidos Interactive, this is a work of fan fiction in no way endorsed by them.
Author's Note: Originally intended as a stand-alone tribute to the games and their makers at Core, I've decided to expand to several chapters and see where Lara takes us. As this is my very first attempt at fan fiction, I would greatly appreciate any frank reviews you may care to leave.
Chapter 1
Lara walked up to the pretentiously mammoth corporate headquarters of FutureTech Industries and allowed herself a tiny flash of girlish enthusiasm. She'd felt particularly chipper this morning, a way she hadn't felt in years. After the long trial begun in the Tomb of Seth had wound its dark, devastating path down through the myriad horrors it had visited upon her, she doubted she would feel this youthfully clean sort of anticipation ever again. She'd saved the world in those days, unknown to its teeming billions, saved them from an evil they would mercifully never be forced to comprehend. In the process of saving their world, she feared that she had forever lost her own. Lately, it all seemed a vague blur, a bad dream awakened from in cold sweat, the details unremembered.
Today though, Lara felt young again in body, heart, and mind. Never one for lengthy self-analysis, she cheerfully accepted the feeling and returned to the situation at hand. Passing through the thick glass doors of the lobby's security zone, she made note of the artfully hidden sensors and likely positions of concealed weapons emplacements, useful knowledge should she need to make a hasty exit. Lara presented her credentials to the hardnosed matron at the desk and awaited that dour functionary's approval.
"Ah, yes, Ms. Croft. Mr. Webb is expecting you. Please take the lift to the top floor, his office is at the end of the hallway, you can't miss it." Don't imagine I can, thought Lara, if its built like everything else hereabouts. Lara had sworn never to work with another egomaniacal corporate potentate again, after Natla, Willard, and tortured old Werner Von Croy, but the verifiable information in the packet she'd received from the shadowy Mr. Webb clearly overrode that imperative. This promised to be a tremendous adventure, perhaps the greatest of them all. She'd never been the sort of girl to run away from one of those. Lara reviewed the data she'd received again as the lift rose toward its destination.
Randolph Carter Webb gazed out upon the sprawling vista of the city beneath him, noting with some satisfaction that the reddish tinge to the sky wasn't as deep this morning. Perhaps someday he'd even see it become entirely blue, as the skies of his youth had been. While he waited for his visitor to arrive, he thought back on his life, on the actions he knew had led inexorably to this moment, this rendezvous with destiny for himself, Lara Croft, and likely everyone now living or yet to be born. The tired old chestnut said it all; he'd been there and done that. Human civilization's richest and most powerful private individual of the moment had arisen, as so many of them do, from complete obscurity and grittily unpromising origins. From hill-trash urchin to young-old soldier to near vagrancy, he'd clawed his way to his present lofty height with little more than ruthless determination. He grimly refused to surrender to the notion that his vision of the way the world ought to be couldn't be forced out of nothingness and born screaming whole into reality. People and things were strewn broken all along his path, but in the way of such men Webb told himself it couldn't be helped. He'd always kept his personal integrity intact, and at the end of the day that's what really counted, wasn't it? He rather imagined his young visitor was a kindred spirit in this regard, but for all practical purposes it didn't matter if she was or not.
Lara walked into Webb's sprawling glass and sandstone aerie and took initial measure of her host. He was a tallish, rugged-looking fellow around forty years old. From his cool grey eyes a certain warmer glint could just be detected, hinting there might be a bit more to this chap than his vaguely brutal reputation implied. Of course, appearances were always deceptive, she'd learned that lesson long ago, and there was one more troubling little matter: Lara's thorough research indicated that this man was not Randolph Carter Webb III, reclusive inheritor of FutureTech Industries, but was instead Randolph Carter Webb 1.0, founder of same. That would make him at least 100 years old. She'd dealt with those who sought immortality before, and it had never been pleasant.
Webb turned from the window at the sound of confidently approaching footsteps, and had his first good look at Lara Croft. Although from her biography he knew she was in her early thirties, to his eye she gave the sense of someone who'd always be a day shy of twenty-eight. Tall and sleekly erect, she possessed a graceful, lithe muscularity that enhanced her classic femininity. Large brown eyes revealed little but contained much, and her long dark auburn hair was braided into a ponytail that seemed to move independently of its owner. Lara Croft clearly held within her powerful energies, coiled beneath a calm, poised surface that both invited and held one at bay.
"Good day, Mr. Webb, I'm Lara Croft. I have reviewed your proposed expedition and I'd like to discuss it further. If I may say, without causing much offense, you appear to be a good deal younger than one might expect." Lara invisibly tensed for action in case her probe provoked a violent reaction.
Webb took her insinuation in stride. "Thank you, Ms. Croft, no offense taken. As you suspect, I should by all rights be either in my dotage or in my grave. My firm engineered the genetic process that allows this sort of rejuvenation, of which I am at present the sole beneficiary. How this relates to what I hope will become our mutual endeavour I will explain in the course of our discussions. And if I may say, without causing offense, you appear every bit as impressive as your reputation would imply."
Lara politely brushed off the compliment, had it been one, and got to the point. "Before we begin, my terms for working together are these: One, I do things in my own way. I understand that you will join me on this expedition at some point, since you are financing it, but only at a time of my choosing and according to my rules. Two, you will be straightforward and honest with me at all times. I want no surprises from you, although I expect and am prepared for many other surprises along the way. I'm a very busy girl, with neither time nor tolerance for foolishness and interference. Do you agree to my terms?"
Webb considered for a moment and answered, "Done and done. We are agreed, those are conditions I myself have insisted on in the past, before becoming prisoner of my own affairs here at FutureTech. Our arrangement will be as you say. Now, if you will please direct your attention to the map…" Webb's office darkened, and in its centre a detailed holographic map of the planet's surface appeared. Lara followed his stiffly melodramatic monolog with increasing interest. "Here under the sands of Cydonia, some 2700 km distant from us at Syria Planum, humanity is told that naturally-occurring geological features and tricks of shadow create the pyramidal formations on the local marscape. As you now know, in reality, the ruins of a vast, aeons-old city of Mars' original inhabitants lies beneath these whirling red storms of dust and sand. We've made some progress in the translation of the Martian writings, although not a great deal. We believe their way of thinking was as alien to us as ours is to whales or dolphins, if not more so. We know they left this world as it began to die, millions of years before the first earthly primates abandoned their comforting trees for the savannah. We are fairly certain that, for whatever reason, the Martians did not come to Earth. We don't know where they went, but we do know how they went. They went in starships, Lara, and somewhere within their city they left one behind, with all the knowledge of its making. No matter what other wonders you may discover, the secret of the stardrive technology is the only item of any importance whatever to me."
"This brings us back full circle to the start of our conversation. My life is artificially extended through a process developed here at Futuretech by separate research teams, none of them fully aware of the activities of the others. Although some certainly suspect the old founder of the firm never really went away, my people return the loyalty that I extend to them. My secret is safe for now, but this will not always be so. I am not immortal, but to be young and vital for several normal lifetimes is prize great enough. Although the vast profit potential of relatively inexpensive life-extension is obvious, the reason I can't yet reveal this development is equally obvious; even with the ongoing terraforming of Mars and colonization of our solar system, there aren't within them resources enough to sustain billions of exponentially increasing humans who live so long. At this moment, our society can support but a small number of such long-lived individuals. For only a privileged few to live on thus, while the majority grow old and die knowing it need not be so, is a recipe for annihilation."
"Years ago, I fought in the terrible war between the North-Western Alliance and the newly-arisen South-Eastern Bloc, a war to large extent between the haves and the almost-haves. It was a horror, the likes of which even you have never seen. The inevitable war between the life-extended haves and the "normal" want-to-haves would be infinitely worse. Such a war would destroy us all. In order for everyone to have long life worth the living, we must leave the star of our birth and go, like the Martians before us, out among the galaxy. That is my dream, Lara, and I fervently hope you will help me realize it. Needless to say, there are other, darker forces, some no doubt already known to you, stirring as they become aware of these things. They will be out and about in considerable force. Consider the risks, and tell me your decision."
Lara arose, casually stretching her long legs, and turned to face him. "You knew full well before you contacted me that I would want to do this. I've never yet shirked a bit of danger to find something old, interesting, important or unique, nor will I start today. I'm also aware that I'd have encountered quite some difficulty leaving here alive with any information I'd learned if I didn't agree to your request. I wouldn't be here now had I not expected a secret of this magnitude and decided to be the one to find it."
"Despite the ostensibly altruistic nature of you goals, you must understand two things more about me: I'm still in it for the sport, despite what else I may have done or why I may have done it in the past. Lastly, I never accept at face value a self-proclaimed saint who sits on a golden throne. Now that we're understood and agreed, give me the particulars and I'll be off on my way. There's a bit of adventuring to be done, and I'd like to get on with it."
Obviously relieved, Webb gave Lara the details she requested. "Remember, the full resources of the company which made Mars colonization profitable are at your disposal whenever you require them. My suborbital yacht Barsoom is in docking bay 12 at Syrtis Minor spaceport, her crew is standing by. I'll be contacting you after you've had a chance to scout things out a bit. Oh, and Lara, … Good luck."
"I make my own luck, Mr. Webb", Lara replied, and turning with a flip of her ponytail she walked back towards the lift. Lara knew that he was holding something back, something that, to him at least, was very important. But her instincts told her that whatever it was didn't involve a betrayal of her, or present any unanticipated threat, at least not now. She didn't let it bother her. Here was another adventure to be had, at long last another quest worthy of her abilities. Besides, it promised to be great fun.
Randolph Carter Webb admired Lara's shapely behind as she strode away to the elevator. It was, of course, a view he had seen many times before, but this time was different. This time, the view was real. As she disappeared behind the sliding doors, the old man savored the sight of the strong, beautiful, proudly self-assured woman, a woman forever in that magical, golden place between the glorious vigor of youth and the knowing wisdom of maturity.
Although everything he'd told Lara was true, it wasn't the whole story. Long before Webb played his pivotal role in the colonization of space, years before he forced the adoption of so many technological marvels down the usually insatiable, sometimes unwilling, throat of human civilization, he'd been a simple soldier. He had come home from the fiercely exhilarating, terrible adventure of war, both more and less than the man he was before he left. He hadn't really known what to do with himself, and felt that his life was missing something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He stagnated and drifted for a time, and during that time he came across a game for the primitive computers of the day, something about a hot-looking English girl who raided tombs. A longing for a return to adventure, a lifelong interest in the mysteries of the past, and a certain level of adolescent interest, perhaps unseemly in a man his age, conspired to cause him to buy the game. He played that game, and the games that followed, and after a while the simple fun of the things captured his imagination.
The games, although not always perfect, grew on him and he began to see in their digital protagonist qualities he admired and approved of. The games were so well conceived that they managed to create an artificial person, detailed enough to posses a vivid personality all her own, but vague enough for each individual player to perceive her in their own fashion. Webb grew so enamored of this figment of multiple imaginations that he often played the games throughout the night, missing sleep that would have served him well in the day ahead. One night, after playing an enthralling later episode of the game, he realized that although his imaginary friend and heroine didn't begrudge him a share of her adventures, she herself in his position would get up and get on with the real thing.
So Randolph Carter Webb got up and got on with his life. Like all lives, it had its share of mistakes and regrets. Unlike many lives, however, his realized several of its dearest dreams, in spectacular fashion. When first he heard rumors of the lost cities of Mars, brought back by his own surveyors, he knew what had to be done. R. C. Webb knew how to kill two clay pigeons with a single shotgun blast.
Years before, he'd bought the company that created those wonderful games. They'd long since forsaken their first great triumph for newer, perhaps lesser projects, but he owned the intellectual rights to everything they had ever made. Although he'd intended otherwise, he became too busy remaking his world to reintroduce his favorite heroine to new generations. She was no longer universally recognized, and was now known to but a few in this world, as she had originally been known to but few in her own. This was as it should be, both for her and for what he had in mind.
Webb knew that even his vast corporate and personal power could not prevail alone in the struggle ahead. He needed a new ally. He determined to recreate an old one. FutureTech Biorobotics and FutureTech Advanced AI entered nonstop R&D overdrive. Eidos/Core Holoworlds, a wholly owned subsidiary of FutureTech Interplanetary, were instructed to revisit their old heroine. Years later, fewer than he feared but more than he hoped, the creation of those long-dead game designers and the legions of players who had loved that creation was ready, at long last, to live life on her own terms.
Webb was confident that he would survive long enough to aid Lara in the quest ahead, and in so doing achieve his old dream, the endless spread throughout the galaxy of humankind. He knew, though, that the longevity treatment had its limits. No adaptation of the technology that had successfully synthesized and placed in a real, independent, and living mind the dreams of Lara's old friends could be made to transfer his own mind into a new body.
He did hope he would live long enough to see Lara Croft make the ultimate discovery of her amazing career, that of her own human soul. After all, Lara had never once failed to find a prize of great and unique value, for fear of trying.
Jan 2001