Alternate Reality
Chapter 11: Keep it Clean
Location: Russia, 10 kilometers out of Novgorod
Date/time: 2553/3073 Mar 8th 15:24GST
Falcon was still piloting the tank, even though disgust was written on her face as Specter knew she wished for her mech... any mech compared to the comparably fragile hover tank. The overpowering whine of the tank's engine was only slightly drowned out by Beowulf's messing with the radio; unfortunately all the music in the area was in Russian, and only Katrina could understand it.
She was sitting next to Beowulf in the cramped space near the radio, mostly because of the heater that only reached about that far. She was busy switching through the channels when she abruptly stopped to listen to some Russian lady talk.
"What's the chic saying?" Beowulf asked, using informal words usually below his British heritage.
"She's talking about the storm... hold on." Katrina listened as intently as possible through the drowning noise of the tank. "She's talking about the storm; it appears to be cyclical occurrence, this is the biggest white out they've had for centuries."
"And we're stuck in it in this jammy piece of work." Beowulf muttered darkly, wrapping his coat closer.
"Falcon what's the status on the Condor's engines, it's pretty cold out there; is there any ice?" Specter asked, hollering over the Russian lady.
"...let's listen to something else..." Beowulf complained in the background, bringing the sound of Stravinsky's "Firebird" into the tank.
"You guy's are worse than little kids on a road trip!" Specter shouted, turning moments later with an expectant face to Falcon.
"Neg, engine and blade temperatures are normal; no ice buildup." Falcon replied mechanically, that was fine enough for him.
"...I'm getting some interference on the radio...now just static..." Beowulf turned to specter, looking somewhat confused.
"We're in a Blizzard Charlie!" Specter shouted, "You didn't expect to be without a signal? Calm down we're just two kilometers out from the ship."
"I guess this just provides better cover for us... though I wonder if the ship will still be there." Charlie was still muttering.
just shut up.
What the... Admiral Parangoski pushed herself off the ground, and reaching behind her ear she felt a small bruise as though someone had hit her. That's odd it normally hurts more
An odd thought to be sure, but from it it appears obvious that she had been knocked out before.
She rose to her feet, taking in her surroundings, everything seemed alright; but she knew way better than that, and instead of calling security or checking things out she pulled up her phone and addressed the comm network of the facility.
"We've been breached pack up."
When Specter saw the clearing through the ice covered windshield he jumped for joy; joy that was short lived as he hit his head on the roof. Out of the corner of his eye, Specter knew he saw a mocking smile on Falcon's face. But when he faced her, she was blank as white printer paper.
"What are you looking at huh?" Specter demanded of her.
She ignored him, and drove near the center... the blizzard was somewhat less powerful here and the body of their ship loomed into view. And when the bay door on the port side opened; she high powered the engine and pulled in.
The cold hydrolics of the door groaned as they slide against the power of the ice buildup and the wind, but they closed in time for them to reach the renewing warmth of the heat filtered mechbay. Specter welcomed the new atmosphere, flailing his arms and slapping his sides in an effort to get his blood flowing.
While a few people arched their eyebrows at him, they didn't question any further.
Specter sighed, and stalked out of the bay and took the short jaunt up to the bridge where his surveillance footage was being examined. When he entered, he look at the monitor expecting to see the procedures still under way. But the sight that met his eyes sank his disposition further than the weather had; there was a flurry of activity, people were packing, moving, cleaning, and essentially erasing all evidence they had even been there.
Specter cursed under his breath, and picked up the nearest observer and moved him out of his chair, rudely taking it in the process: no complaints met his ears, at least he wasn't paying attention to anything but the screen before him.
"How long have they been packing?" Specter asked.
"They just started several minutes ago, they've made astounding progress from what I can tell." The man's face betrayed truth about his words, and a hidden resentment for not having enough bugs planted.
Specter nodded in silent acknowledgment. Next time I will plant more bugs; but the problem is going in without leaving a trace like last time.
Specter stood, dismissing himself from the bridge without a word, finding his way to the team's lounge. The room had almost everyone, but at least it had every one who had gone on the mission. He found Castle sitting in his chair with a worn book and a mug of steaming coffee. Falcon was busy in the corner practicing martial arts of some kind he couldn't identify. And Beowulf was actually snoring on the couch.
Specter stood over him, and slapped him on the leg. "Move."
Beowulf grunted, and sat upright in a respectable manner.
"We're all here; it's time for debriefing time." Specter stated; moments later recognizing he had already said the word 'time' with a twitch.
"Yes sir?" Castle stated, not really a question just an acknowledgment that he had her attention.
"I want to know what you say in the upper levels, what kind of models, files, rooms, and anything you think important; everything you saw is important."
"There were a lot of offices, cubicles, and... labs. I had heard that you found one below; but there were more in the upper levels. And according to a map we found there were several dormitories and training fields and courses both inside the complex and outside." Castle responded proudly.
"Right. Anything else?"
"Admiral Parangoski's computer desk was loaded with reports, they were filled with statistics for course performance for whoever they're training there."
"Sounds good." He glanced at Beowulf, he was nodding off again. "Get some rest, all of you, and Castle tell the Captain to fly us to New Mombasa; if anyone asks tell them we're on shore leave."
"Is it our true intention?" Castle asked, actually hoping he would say 'yes'.
"Is it ever?" Specter asked rhetorically.
Castle sighed and saved the spot in her book and briskly fast walked out of the room. Specter noted her irritation.
Maybe I actually will have to schedule something; we're all burning the candle at both ends.
New Mombasa: three hours later.
Specter sighed, looking over the landscape from his view on a small hill outside of the city. He had sent a very encrypted message to Sollaris to see if he was interested in the information he had gathered; even if he was no closer to finding out who had tried to get him killed.
He turned when he heard quick steps lightly pounding against the soft soil of the hill: Castle came breathing heavily to a stop near him and handed him a small note.
Ah, paper, good old class notes... especially good now since you can't really trace them with a computer.
He read the note carefully, recognizing one of the drawbacks to handwritten letters in the process; sometimes people didn't have very poetic skills at writing even a simple character. And an entire letter composed of this would be nearly impossible if the letter had been worse.
Obviously someone of his skills can write better; he must have been in a hurry when he wrote this.
The letter wasn't formal, it wasn't addressed to anyone, it wasn't signed, it was clean; like a grocery list.
"Don't forget to deliver, I need this for my recipe in one hour, otherwise I won't have time. You don't have to go to my house, just meet me in the Harerro parking garage on the third tier."
"Pretty clever." Specter stated, glancing over at Castle. "Where did you get it?"
"At the drop point." She stated, her hands recently washed.
"I thought he said they didn't use that garbage can." Specter stated, more to himself than anyone.
"Well they did; and I had to go back to the hotel so I could shower; and I still smell like... I don't know what." She complained, looking down to check her safari white khaki jacket and tank top; both were clean.
Specter walked back toward the town, parts already being rebuilt from the explosion caused by the prophet of Regret when he jumped in the middle of the city, not to mention the damage caused by ordinary battle.
Specter consulted a small tourist map turned a nearby corner, with Castle trailing behind him.
"...uh sir, the bus stop is that way..." She stated, referring to the opposite direction.
"Cool down." Specter stated, slowing to a reasonable pace. "We're supposed to be on shore leave, meaning we're tourists; which of course means that since we're under cover as such we need to buy stuff."
"But sir?"
"Quiet, we're here." Specter stated, walking into a nearby shop, it was filled with motorcycles of all kinds, all styles, and some specialty replicas of famous models made in the past and present.
"If we're going somewhere, we've got to do it in style; and while a mech may be stylish it attracts too much attention." Specter reasoned guiltily.
"As if that doesn't draw too much attention?" Castle stated, pointing toward a black motorcycle just designed to say "too cool to speak"
"Maybe I shouldn't have pointed at that one." Castle reconsidered. "Maybe you should get a Harley, they probably let you carry more right?"
"No, I've never been a fan of that kind, not my style, I've got to go with something that says Shadowcat like that does." Specter answered, looking at the sleek bike with a hawk's eye.
The store owner, a South African man with Dread locks and a wide grin approached. "So, you like that one?"
"I do." Specter replied. "How much is it?"
"Before I let people harass the public," he winked at Katrina, "I need to check your license to drive this kind of vehicle."
Specter almost panicked, but as a good tourist he brought out his wallet and showed the man his motorcycle license that he purchased on his last tourist occasion on Sollaris VII.
"That looks like a license to me, but I don't recognize what world it is." He eyed the ID, it had all the multiple layers of a license. "I guess the world may have been glassed; did you have any family there?"
"No, I was serving." Specter stated, hoping he wouldn't look like a fool.
"That bike costs fifteen hundred credits."
"Alright." Specter fished them out, knowing the only place he could ever spend them was on this world; considering he might not be able to buy much there anyway.
The shop's owner was a little surprised at first, probably expecting him to try to haggle it down, but nonetheless he accepted the bank transfer and went into the back to retrieve the keys.
He came back seconds later, keys in hand, and gave them to Specter; who accepted them almost greedily as the man unlocked the bike from where it had been chained down.
"You do need..." The man began.
"I'll take two bike helmets, and can I see your gloves?" Specter asked.
The whole thing, including the gloves, goggles, jackets, and helmets led to a total spent amount of credits being two thousand.
Only when they were speeding down the road did Specter ask Castle his question; she was busy trying to hold on, practically suffocating Specter and found it hard to reply.
"Is it just me, or shouldn't that have cost a lot more?"
"I think either he's going out of business, the economy is rotting, or both." She replied through clenched teeth. "Could you drive safer please?"
"Why, I think it's funny when you cling to me like that." As soon as he finished, she relaxed her grip, he could almost see her indignant blushing.
"I wouldn't have any reason to if you were a safer driver." She answered, hinting that the only reason she would have for it would be safety, not interest in him.
I feel like a little brother again. He chuckled under his breath, remembering how fun it had been when he would pick on his sisters.
"You know, since we're tourists, we have to try the best restaurant in town." Specter stated, hinting she was his guest.
"No, take Falcon." Castle nearly bit her tongue when she mentioned the clanner.
"Yeah, great idea, it would be explosive." Specter smiled. "Literally, you know she is offended by the very idea of romance. After all, she is a genetically engineered weapon, how could she understand?"
Castle shook her head, her laughter lost in the wind.
Harerro parking garage
John 117, the Master Chief, stood waiting in the shadows as the dark black bike slowed to a stop. His impassive, unreadable faceplate betrayed nothing.
"You're five minutes late." John stated, his deep scratchy voice hinting his irritation.
"Sorry about that; we took the scenic route." Specter replied nonchalantly. "We had to make sure no one followed us, and to upkeep our image as tourists."
"Decent excuse." John stated, allowing Specter that little.
"I have what we've got, but I have to ask, is there anyone you can go to about this?" Specter asked, handing over a small hard drive.
"I'm not without contacts." John stated. "But they were expecting me back five minutes ago." The Spartan nodded and dashed out of sight, surprising Specter at how stealthy he could be even in a one ton suit of armor.
"Castle, we have to go check on our friends; remember when I told them not to try out the nearest bar... well." He held up his PDA for her to see, there was a news report being played, showing a video of a rather large bar fight; and two of their crew were in the middle of it.
"Don't take me there sir." Castel pleaded.
"I have to get there soon as possible; team Specter has never lost, and I will make sure it stays that way." He revved the engine on his bike and sighed. "Anything on the way I could drop you off at?"
"I thought the hotel was right nearby?"
"On it." He ordered, wether he meant he was on the plan or wether he was ordering her to get on the bike; she had no idea.
"Might I ask you why you were satisfied by that short meeting?" Castle asked.
"No. Hang on."
The Bushmen Diner:
This was supposed to be a friendly bar, but now it was as violent as the Kalahari desert where its namesake came from.
Beowulf was breathing heavily in his nice suit as he threw another punch into the obviously ex-marine drunk. To Beowulf it seemed to him that every time he went out, there were people who mocked him for his style; he always made it a point to show them he knew theirs; and kicked the previously mentioned marine into the piano in the corner, one out.
He straightened his back, allowing a slight stretch before the next angry person came at him with a wild punch.
Though he was tempted to let it hit him, Beowulf sidestepped and allowed the drunk man to fall to the ground; the man was abviously too drunk to walk, much less fight.
"You cheated!" One of the assailants yelled, pointing his finger in his face, reminding him of the "friendly" poker game that they tried to cheat him on, tried to intimidate him, and when that didn't work they tried to mug him.
"Did I?" Beowulf sneered, eying the man up and down. "I think you just thought I was a wimpy tourist, and that you could make some money off of me."
"...hey it's the cops..."
Beowulf ignored the hints at intervention and slugged the man in the gut causing him to curl up and fall to the floor. All in all, his fight had been with nearly half of the bar's customers, it seemed as though they just didn't like outsiders, or were just looking for a fight. It was at this point, where Beowulf was examining all the groaning and unconcious, when Specter slid across the polished floor and into the room.
Specter cursed when he noticed there was no one for him to fight. "Why didn't you play easy?"
"I was..." Beowulf arched an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because this fight was on the local news, and I wanted to join in." Specter replied, looking at the carnage. "You're a gentleman Charlie, not a drunk on a rampage, and now I have to pay for your damages..." Specter went up to the bar tender and fished out his newly accuired checkbook.
"What are the damages?" Specter asked, eying the man to amke sure he didn't overexaggerate.
"Two thousand?"
"Good enough, could I have a drink; anything that's not smashed?" Specter sat idly on the nearest upright stool at the bar, watching the remains of the glass and mirror before him to have a good view of the door.
The bar tender pocketed the check and fished out a cold, thick glass mug and filled it with a dark ale. The bar seemed to find itself more orderly as several drunks stumbled out and back to their homes, and others helped set tables and chairs back in place. It seemed Charlie was content with just sitting at the lonely table behind him to nurse his newly acquired Bailey's.
"You know," Specter stated, drinking deeply from his mug. "This is probably the best way I know to end the day."
Charles nodded. "This is a fine way to end the day, but I know of other, better ways."
"Yeah, a good quick ride through a volitile battle zone in scout mechs; that's the best... when you live." Specter answered.
Okay guys, I will keep updating as much as possible to keep this story going and to make it more interesting.
However, there is a problem, I need input of some kind to be motivated to keep writing; because there are other things I can do with my time. So please read and review, or PM me, because I would deeply appreciate it.
-Tremble Wolf