Scarlet Eyes
A Rifts Story
by Alexis Williams
(Based on the Rifts Roleplaying Game, published by Palladium Books)
In a time long after the ultimate catastrophe, mankind struggled to reclaim an Earth that was forever changed.
The world of this time was one where technology allowed destruction on a grand scale, where magical energies flowed and surged across a savage wilderness, where creatures and beings came from dimensional rifts for good or evil. Where, to protect themselves and regain a foothold, some human beings have formed powerful alliances. Fanatical governments.
Ruthless coalitions.
CHAPTER ONE
The sign itself was enough to scare people away. It was a metal colossus that stood twenty-four feet tall and just as wide.
The symbol on it could be seen from a half-mile away. The stark image made its point without any confusion. It was similar to the symbol worn by all military units—a skull with an "X" of lightning bolts behind it—but slightly different. Every Coalition citizen knew from childhood the meaning of this emblem—with its particularly angry scowl, its distinctive scarlet color, and the lightning bolts that shot up through the eye sockets.
It signified that some place, object, or being was forbidden. Off-limits. Best ignored at all costs. Broaching that barrier would either put you in immediate danger, or it would be punishable by the law. Either way, to be on the wrong side of that sign meant certain death.
Tobias, Royd, and Mina stepped from behind the sign.
"Well that was a wonderful experience," Royd said sarcastically. Like the other two, he was in his mid-twenties and dressed for rugged traveling. "I can't believe I let you talk me into spending a whole day digging through these stupid ruins."
Mina chirped in optimistically. "I thought it was pretty interesting."
"I don't care about 'interesting'," he countered. "I care about rewarding." The three made their way through the forest. Here and there, remnants of the town that it used to be still showed: parts of buildings, patches of paved ground, the husk of an automobile. The forest had struggled hard to reclaim the area and had already passed the decisive point.
Royd, walking behind the other two, continued in a mocking tone. "'A great university in the Time of Man,' Toby told us. 'A vast center of learning and knowledge. We're sure to find many cool secrets,' he said. Well where are they?"
"Right here," Tobias answered confidently, holding up a bound volume. "We found an actual Pre-Rifts book. It's a stupendous find."
"That is not a book." Royd turned his face upward. "Is it me? Maybe I'm not seeing this clearly. Mina, what does the cover of that thing say?"
The woman grinned a bit. "It says 'JC Penny Spring/Summer Catalog'."
"Right," Royd said. "And what's in it?"
Mina couldn't help but find the whole thing amusing. "It appears to be various items for sale."
"And can we purchase any of these items?"
"Well, no," she answered.
"And why not?" he continued relentlessly.
"Um, because we don't have a mailing address?" she ventured.
"Yes. And what else?"
"Uh. Because this JC Penny thing was probably vaporized hundreds of years ago?"
"Exactly!" Royd exclaimed. "So you can see why I'm not so thrilled about our 'stupendous find'."
The three reached a sizeable all-terrain truck. Tobias, speaking patiently, keyed the sequence to unlock it. "As usual, Royd, you have missed the point. I guess when we came out here to look for secrets, you hoped for a manual on ancient fighting techniques or blueprints for a super-vehicle. But you should've known that the Coalition would've destroyed all that. But they missed this," he said, gazing bright-eyed at the tattered catalog. "And a good thing, too. In this book are millions of clues about the Time of Man. What luxuries were available to the average citizen of the American Empire? What was their level of technology? What sizes of clothing did they wear? And by looking at the prices, we can see the relative values of all the items. In fact, this will provide me with vital knowledge for one of my pet projects: figuring out the currency system of their dollars—how much they earned and spent. It's terribly fascinating."
They all climbed into the vehicle, Royd slumping in the back seat. He spoke with some degree of disbelief. "Let me get this straight: You're trying to figure out the currency structure for a dead civilization?"
"Yes," Tobias turned toward him from the driver's seat.
Royd looked him in the eye and asked, "Why?"
The scholar smiled and said, "Because . . ." He appeared a bit surprised that he didn't have an answer. "Because I have to." He nodded at that. "Because I can't imagine not doing it. The same way that Mina has to study magic. The same way that you have to annoy people."
"Thanks," Royd said with raised eyebrow.
Tobias turned around and started the engine. "So now you understand, right?"
"Yeah, sure." He laid back and closed his eyes, relaxing his muscular frame. "Though I would've rather found a book on how to choose better friends."
The truck moved steadily through the rest of the forest, then made its way back toward the town of Cobdendale. The three of them became suddenly alert when they heard what sounded like continuous rolling thunder. Tobias stopped the vehicle, and they stepped outside.
Royd said, "It's coming from straight ahead. From the town."
Mina said, "I don't sense any magic."
"Get in," Tobias said urgently. "Let's see what it is."
The town of Cobdendale consisted of only a few dozen houses, a small tavern, a flour mill, and a blacksmith shop. The only public official was the magistrate, who also ran the general store. Bill Turner was a stout man who—despite his many duties—spent the bulk of his time sitting down. Year-round, he always had a piece of straw between his lips, sticking out from underneath his massive mustache.
Springtime was the busiest time for his store, but as he sat behind the counter, he seemed unfazed by all the activity. About a dozen people were roaming around his aisles selecting merchandise.
He eyed two of them. They were strangers—which basically meant that he didn't know them when they were born. Added to that was the fact that when the two youngsters had arrived in the town about a year ago, it was in a rather unusual manner. The two of them had simply emerged from the forest one day, gaunt, ragged, and fearful. The town was shocked to learn that they had been wandering the wilderness alone for three years.
Now they lived with Widow Green, helping her to run her farm. The boy hefted a bag of seed onto his shoulder. He was in his mid-teens and still skinny. It was obvious that his older sister kept him in line. His hair was trimmed neatly, and his denim and flannel clothes were clean and well-patched. He took the bag out to his wheel barrow while his sister approached the counter.
"How much will that be, Mr. Turner?" she said. She was a rugged, but pretty girl who mostly kept to herself. Her hair was always tied in the back, and she rarely smiled.
He gave her the price and she started counting out the Coalition currency. She paused. "Oh, one more thing. Mrs. Green needs another bottle of that ointment for her arthritis."
Turner said, "Sorry, miss. We're all out of that."
The boy returned as Sonia said, "Mrs. Green told us the merchant who supplied you always came in the spring."
"Yes, well," Turner said, annoyed that he had to explain this to yet another disappointed customer. "I heard he was picked up by a security patrol. Apparently he was selling some things he shouldn'ta been." He instinctively leaned forward and spoke just above a whisper. "Magic items."
The boy's eyes flared. "This is ridiculous! Now where are we supposed to get that ointment?"
Turner held up a placating hand. "Look, I submitted a request with the Procurement Office. I'm sure we'll get it eventually."
"No we won't," the boy said angrily. "The government doesn't care about this town. That's why we had to get it from the merchant in the first place. I am so tired of this."
Turner had no patience for the boy's attitude. "Look, son, you just have to learn to accept things. The law is the law—and it's there for your protection. Sometimes it might be a little inconvenient, but that's just life. There's nothing we can do. "
The boy looked like he wanted to say something, but held his tongue. A hint of a smile crossed his lips. "No. I guess there isn't."
The two siblings left the store and loaded up two wheel barrows. One contained two sacks of seeds and the tools they'd bought. The other was piled high with fertilizer.
As the pungent odor filled his nostrils, Nikolai said, "You know, these seeds are pretty heavy. I think I'd better take them."
Sonia was nineteen years old, three years his senior, and she was the one accustomed to giving directions. She smiled, tousling his hair, then stepped over to the one with the smelly fertilizer.
A few dozen other people milled about the tiny town. The warming spring day nurtured the general sense of optimism that the season usually brought. Most of the townsfolk busied themselves planting their vegetable gardens. Farmers from the surrounding area picked up their supplies to start their crops.
Nikolai liked this town, and reflected on that as he lifted the handles of the wheel barrow. But he would've liked it even better if it was free of the Coalition.
As the two siblings started for home, Nikolai lagged a little, thinking about that poor merchant, and the town's loss of a supplier. All because the Coalition didn't like magic. Nikolai had spent his childhood far from the Coalition. He remembered growing up with all kinds of people that the Coalition wouldn't have liked. He was shocked to find things so different here, but happy to have found a few like-minded youngsters.
Thinking of them, his eyes were drawn toward the flour mill, where his compatriots in the secret Cobdendale Liberation Front tended to hang out. Suddenly, he saw Jon, their leader, emerge from behind the building.
Nikolai called to him. Jon looked up and waved him over. Nikolai put down the barrow and headed that way.
"Hey," Sonia called after him. "This is not the time to hang out with your friends. Mrs. Green wants these planted today."
He turned back without stopping, putting on his best pleading face. "I'll be right there. Just give me ten minutes. I promise."
She sighed. "All right. Ten minutes, and I mean it." She continued her journey, leaving one of the barrows.
Jon ushered Nikolai into the building, whose walls were solidly built of gray brick. He shut the oak door and sealed it with the crossbar. Nikolai wondered why he was being so cautious, as there didn't seem to be a Liberation Front meeting going on.
Jon lit an oil lamp, illuminating a corner of the mill. He was a couple of years older than Sonia, which, as far Nikolai was concerned, made him that much smarter. His intense hazel eyes were set in a rugged, intelligent, light-brown face, topped by a pate of dark, unruly curls.
He pulled something out of his bag. "Take a look at this. One of the travelers loaned it to me this morning. Tobias said that when they get back from exploring the ruins today, he's going to teach me how to use it."
Nikolai gazed at the object. It consisted of two eight-inch-square pieces of cardboard with paper in between. On the cover was a picture of two children dancing with strange symbols. Nikolai said, "What is it?"
Jon stared down with wonder. "It's a book. Tobias says that it teaches people how to read." He opened it to the first page. More children dancing. He flipped to the second. There was a picture of an apple and some letters. Jon pointed to a word. "That's the writing for the word 'apple'. It starts with this letter." He looked up at Nikolai to find him frowning. "Don't you see what this means? What we can do with this?"
Nikolai thought for a moment. "Uh, no."
Jon grasped the book in both hands and spoke excitedly. "Once we learn to read, we'll have all kinds of power. We'll be able to read technical manuals to figure out how to fix our own machines. We won't need the Coalition. And we can build new things. And we'll be able to communicate better, and organize. And—" He stopped, noticing that his companion was distractedly staring at the north wall. "What is it?"
Nikolai whispered, "Listen."
By then it was clearly audible, a low, rolling rumble. Growing.
Jon put the book down and unlatched the door. They stepped out into the sun and could see other townspeople staring toward the northern skies. The sound grew into a loud roar. Nikolai could feel the building starting to vibrate. They had to cover their ears as the sound developed into a mighty thunder that made it seem like the heavens were about to fall down upon them.
Then suddenly, they were there. Two massive, black transports—whose bows were faces of death—streaked overhead and circled the town.
Nikolai could see that they were approaching for a landing. His mouth was suddenly very, very dry.
Craig felt the Death's Head Transport bank slightly. They would probably be landing soon. Excitement filled him as he did a final check on the systems in his SAMAS. He loved that machine. More than being just a suit of power armor, it was the symbol of frontier power.
Though according to the information he'd gotten from Sergeant Spike, he probably wouldn't be putting it to great use on this mission.
He looked over towards the Sergeant. He had a group of soldiers hanging on his every word as he related one of his many combat adventures. Craig's impatience was almost palpable. He wanted desperately to be where Spike was, to have participated in deadly battles with the most terrifying enemies. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that his time would come. He just hoped it wouldn't take too long.
He had honed his body into a husky fighting machine. He kept his head shaven because it made him look more intimidating. He had the look. But he still needed the stories.
As he magnetically resealed the casing to the lateral maneuvering jet, he noticed the men near the front of the compartment quieting down. The officer in charge must've finally decided to brief them. He quickly put away his tools and moved toward the front of the crowd.
The officer, a Captain Selby, stepped onto a small platform at the head of a crowd of over a hundred armored soldiers, who were standing at attention. "Men," he said, the acoustics of the bay carrying his voice well. "We're within the perimeter of Cobdendale. As I'm sure most of you know, this is an order-maintaining mission. It's important that we go in with the right attitude. We don't want to destroy civilians or their property. We only want to make a show of force to remind them that they are part of the Coalition States, and thus under our protection . . . and our laws."
Selby paused for a moment. "There are, however, a few cleansing tasks that we'll be performing. Our intelligence reports indicate that a small group of rebels has sprouted up in Cobdendale. Once we've isolated them, they will, of course, be publicly executed."
Some of the soldiers in the ranks muttered their approval of the plan and their desire to carry it out. Even though Selby wasn't orating with very much gusto, it didn't take a lot to rouse most soldiers.
Selby continued drily, "We also have information that these dissidents are harboring dangerous rogues, like scholars and practitioners of magic. We are to rid this territory of their evil influence." More murmurs of agreement from the ranks, various fists clenching.
"Here are your orders," he said. "Upon landing, Squadron Six will launch. These sky cycles will patrol the perimeter of the area to prevent any offenders from escaping into the wilderness.
"Both Death's Heads will land in the central park area. All units, except Unit Twenty-five, will begin an orderly march through the town. Your platoon leaders have the assigned routes. Unit Twenty-five will remain to guard the Death's Heads in the park, which will serve as our temporary base. Any questions?"
"Yes, sir." Craig raised his hand and was acknowledged by the captain. "Sir, if we should come across any rogues on our patrol, are they considered to be on the Immediate Kill List?"
"No," Selby answered. "We'd like to question them first. For now, the Immediate Kill list includes only cyber knights, psychics, and users of magic. Kill normal rogues only if they pose an immediate threat. Any other questions?" Pause. "Good. Dismissed. And make your families back home proud."
Captain Selby stepped from the platform and headed back into the cockpit. Craig returned to his SAMAS and started to suit up. He silently prayed to the Emperor that he would find someone dangerous in that town, someone who could be the subject of his first great battle story. He had so much firepower. It was such a shame not to use it.