IX- Diving Into Chaos
The night was black around the boat, only a pale glimmer of light shimmering on the waves from the sliver of moon overhead.
The blackness was a comfort to Lara, enfolding her like a blanket and sharing in her numbness. A warm breeze blew over her skin and she wriggled her toes, her bare feet sticking just over the stern's edge, leaning nonchalantly against one of the scuba tanks lying on the fantail. She resisted the brief urge to look just a little to her left, where the battleground that Athens had become threw a dull orange glow into the sky from the fires quickly spreading through it.
Lara pushed the memory of the sounds of gunfire and even mortars echoing through the city to the back of her mind. They could see the rioting through binoculars as they drew closer to the docks, figures carrying weapons scurrying from building to building. A small, slightly scorched naval patrol boat had sped up to them, its loudspeaker blaring for them to stop their engines and prepare for boarders.
Marc had acted before Lara told him to, whipping the boat around and jamming the throttles all the way forward. They had jolted forward as the twin performance engines kicked in, pushing them forward at nearly 37 knots. The slightly smaller naval boat leapt to follow them, churning froth behind it the instant before a man popped out from a small building shore side, sending a shoulder-fired rocket straight into it. The powerful yacht kept roaring forward as another man stepped up to the one with the launcher, helping him to reload. By the time they were finished, Lara and her companion were out of range, watching as a mortar round landed straight on the two men's heads. She'd turned her back on the whole insanity.
There was a small splash in the water a few feet below her toes and she leaned forward, snatching up the powerful search flashlight from beside her and turning it on.
An Oceanid, blue eyes glowing just below the surface, let out a distorted shriek, flailing its thin arms to cover its eyes before whirling back into the depths. Lara turned off the light, setting it back beside her with a small, cool smile.
"It's a good thing that they can't breach the surface, or else they'd be snacking on your ankles by now."
Lara kept watching the dark waves in front of her for a moment.
"Those persistent little bitches are welcome to try," she said, looking over her shoulder at Marc, who carried two plastic cups and a large thermos.
"How are your wounds?" He sat next to her on the deck, unscrewing the thermos and pouring a dark red liquid into the cups, handing one to Lara.
"They're just scratches; I've been worse off before." She took a sip from the cup, still gazing out distantly over the water.
"Limnio?" she asked absently.
He smiled wryly. "Basically; this variety is a bit stronger. I think it's called for." The ever-present mirth in his voice melted away at his last words.
Lara took another swallow, trying not to think. "How much longer until we reach Turkey?"
"A while yet…if our luck holds out and we have enough fuel." He looked slightly grim.
"I make my own luck," Lara said, almost reflexively, before bringing the cup back to her lips.
Marc smiled softly. "I like that kind of spirit."
Her face was a mask, hiding any true emotion, as she lowered the cup from her lips. "I'm sure." She took another slow sip, still staring out at the ocean. "As far as chat up lines go, you're going to have to try much harder."
Marc's smile grew. "I think you're mistaking me with my arrow-wielding cousin."
Lara wasn't in the mood for games, setting her empty cup on the deck and standing up slowly, frowning as the scratches on her back protested the movement. She looked down at him, eyes cold.
"Thank you for the wine," she said, every ounce of her upper-class training in her voice. She didn't stay for another moment, turning on one heel and striding towards the steps leading up into the boat's main deck.
"You don't have to be alone, Lara." His voice cut through the air, straight to her heart, inexplicably freezing her in place as if invisible hands had grasped her firmly by the shoulders.
"Admit it, behind that fierce adventurer, the adrenaline-hungry explorer, there's a woman who is sick of being by herself. The same woman, but three separate parts…" His voice was closer now, directly behind her.
"Are you a psychologist now?" Lara asked tersely, tone dripping with bitter sarcasm. She knew exactly who she was, knew the choices she'd made, had grabbed her life by the tail and yanked.
Hadn't she?
That small voice again, whispering rare doubts in her ear. She couldn't afford to doubt herself, not now, not ever.
"No, but I'm certainly not blind." His voice again, warm, undemanding.
She shook herself from the bond of his voice, climbing the first step. "I think you're searching for things that aren't there."
Suddenly his hand was on her arm, fingers firmly gripping her just above her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. It took every scrap of self control Lara had to curb her instincts and deliver a left hook straight to his face.
Murder flashed in her eyes and her words were steel, each word emphasized. "Let me go." Her hands balled up into fists.
"Stop hurting yourself." His eyes sought hers with an intensity she'd never seen before.
"I'm not—"
He stepped up to the same level as her, his eyes still locked with hers, looking at her silently as the air almost crackled between them, something in the look he was giving her forcing her to face something deep within herself.
The voice of doubt whispered louder, fueling uncertainty. Something deep within her burst loose, trampling her inner defenses as if they were made of rice paper instead of steel. Uncharacteristic fear, unchained, oozed around her heart, and she recoiled, seeking the stoic calm that was part of her being, suddenly confused.
He seemed to read her confusion, and his grip on her arm shifted, becoming more comforting than urgent. He leaned towards her..
…and her inner defenses slammed back into place, as unyielding as ever. She drew back a little, shaking his hand from her arm, her eyes flashing.
"I've a job to do and I'd like to get it over with as soon as possible. I don't care what you've been charged with; I'll do this by myself if you keep up with your mind games."
She didn't let him say anything in response, turning her back to him and walking evenly back up the steps into the boat, disappearing from view. He stood there for a moment, thinking before he sat back down on the fantail, watching the glow from the distant fires of Athens as the Oceanids scraped against the hull, shrieking under the waves.
In her cabin, Lara stared at the ceiling for hours, her thoughts and emotions roiling before physical and mental exhaustion overtook her and she fell into another fitful sleep.
~~~~~
The general on the video screen shifted in his seat, the only sign of discomfort that showed through his gruff, weathered exterior.
Discomfort was good, Gryner mused. It showed weakness, a loss of power, the appearance of a soft belly for him to tear into.
He stepped around the corner of the conference table, walking closer to the screen as if the general really were in the room. He absently noted how some of the executives seated around the table leaned forward in their chairs, greedily anticipating the deal, while others looked nervous, avoiding his gaze and looking uncomfortable in their seats. Gryner took note of the latter, he would have to deal with them later.
"Let's be straight with each other here, General. What's happened is that the Department of Defense never planned on a conflict of this scale, and with the recent downsizing and disarmaments, you're finding yourself a little under equipped. What material you do have is spread far too thin, and it's costing you men and ground."
The man shifted again, stiffly in his uniform, his eyes narrowing. "Your point, Mr.—"
"My point, General," Gryner smiled tightly, "is that you need us, and that ADT, our corporation, is perfectly able to supply you with the means to win this war."
The other man didn't waste any time. "This may be, but what will this all cost?"
Gryner slipped a palm pilot out of his pocket, quickly scribbling out a figure onto it before pressing a button. The general's eyes flicked over to a point off camera before widening. A second later, surprise was replaced by scorn.
"Sir, even if I felt that your proposal was worthwhile—which you've given me no reason to believe it is—I would never be able to get you that amount."
"Are you certain, General?" Gryner hit another button on the palm pilot, and a wireframe hologram sprang up over the middle of the conference table, rotating over the heads of the executives and casting a green glow on their upturned faces in the dim room.
"The AP-6. You'll find not only does it outperform your Bradley fighting vehicles, but it's about ten years ahead of your Strykers, and those have yet to be deployed. Our research with nuclear miniaturization allows for the compact fission reactor, which eliminates the fuel need for this vehicle while increasing its top speed. Advanced automation means that only one soldier is needed to operate all aspects of the vehicle; two soldiers if you want more accurate operation of the .50 caliber machine gun on top."
Gryner turned away from the image for a moment, nodding to an assistant seated in front of a laptop, watching as the man typed in a command and punched 'enter', nodding back at him.
"As a gesture of our good faith, I am enclosing our own private specifications, research reports, and test results. The test reports alone prove that the AP-6's weapon system is not only more lethal than that of your acclaimed M1A1 Abrams tank, but that it destroys them as well." He paused for a moment, looking straight at the General, who was again looking offscreen. "The AP-6 isn't the only technology we've been working on." The hologram above the table changed, slowly rotating through a series of wireframe models of helicopters, small patrol boats, armored vehicles, and aircraft. "The full data on all of these are attached with the specifications you're currently looking at."
The uniformed man's eyes focused back on Gryner. "I'm very impressed, Mr. Gryner, but it's a little late to be asking for development money."
Gryner's lips pressed together in a thin line as he wrestled with a wave of inner rage. This man was so small-minded…
"I'm not asking for development money, General, I'm allowing you to place a bid on units that have already been built. ADT already has enough units built to furnish AP-6's to all of your mechanized infantry and armor units deployed in two of your three theatres, F-29's to two of your carrier wings, and H-43's to an aviation brigade of your choosing. Naturally, we'll include the necessary personnel to train your soldiers, but the extensive automation should allow you to have all of this operational within weeks. By the end of the month, production levels will allow us to outfit the third theatre as well as the remaining carrier wings." He tried not to look smug. "It's all just a matter of funding."
The general smiled. "How quickly can you make this happen?"
Gryner kept his features schooled, while inside he was celebrating his near-victory. "As soon as we receive the amount I requested."
Again, the man looked off the screen, gesturing to someone before he turned back to Gryner. "Start shipping as soon as possible." The image of the general winked out, replaced with a blank blue screen as he ended the call.
Gryner turned to face those seated around the table. "Let's make that happen." Most of the executives stood then, filtering from the room, except for one middle-aged man, who remained by his chair, looking evenly across the table at Gryner.
"Nicholas, as a senior member of the board, I feel that I must object to this deal you've made."
Small-minded…
"I don't see why, Steven. You seem like the last one who would object to this…especially given the profit involved."
A sour expression flitted over the other man's face. "Ordinarily…but you realize that you're about to escalate the current conflict?"
The younger man leaned forward, conveying earnestness. "I'm not escalating, I'm trying to end this before it gets worse."
"I saw the specifications list you sent to that general. There's more than weapons systems on there, you're selling him biological agents and nuclear technology that we've been developing—"
"Technology you approved for development."
"But never for sale!"
"That's a rather fine line to be walking, don't you think?" He reached into his coat pocket. Fingers closing around the weapon there. It was only a matter of time before it came to this…
Minutes later he gave a pointed glance to the assistant, who was standing behind the laptop looking coolly at his employer, and the spreading bloodstain on the floor.
"Clean this up."
The man nodded, picking up a phone from the table as Gryner left the room.
~~~~~
The first thing that hit Lara when she regained consciousness was the pain. Waves of it, threatening to drown her with the sudden intensity, radiated from the bullet wound in her back and shoulder.
She opened her eyes, a low groan escaping her lips.
Night had fallen while she was out, and it was nearly pitch black. She was lying on the ground in a clearing, her injured shoulder against the cold dirt. Her feet were bound with plastic ties, her hands handcuffed and fastened to a long stake planted in the ground several feet away with a chain. A small fire snapped and popped about five feet from her, and she could see a guard sitting on a crate by the stake from the light it gave off.
The initial wave of pain lessened fractionally, and she became aware of what her senses were telling her. She was hungry, her mouth dry with thirst, and cold to the bone. She shifted just a tiny bit on the ground, trying to get a little closer to the fire, and sucked in a breath as pain ripped through her. She could feel a crude bandage over the wound in her shoulder, the rough cotton of the rag rubbing painfully inside the wound where some medic had crudely tried to stop the bleeding by sticking it directly into the exit wound. The wound felt wet and oozing, burning slightly around the edges from the beginnings of an infection, and dried blood caked her back and stomach. Her face hurt terribly: she could feel a split lip and bruises; the swelling must have gone down.
The guard, seeing her move, stood up from his crate. She lay still, watching him as he walked over to her. He crouched next to her, and she saw that he wore a sidearm; a junior officer then, most likely.
"Awake?" His English was roughened by a thick accent.
"I'm awake." She responded in Serbian, hoping she wasn't rusty.
"Good." He gestured to someone behind her.
She licked her lips in a futile effort to make speaking easier. "What do you want with me?"
He shook his head. "You're a spy and a thief, English, that makes this," he pointed to the handcuffs, "necessary." He picked a stick up from by his feet, twirling it absently between his fingers.
"I'm not a spy, I'm an archeologist." Now was not the time to reenter the 'thief' debate. "This is a mistake."
"I don't think so." He looked up for a moment at someone Lara couldn't see, and then back at her. "Our commander thinks you're a spy, English. Tell us the truth, that you are, and we'll take your handcuffs off and get you to a doctor. We'll get you stitched back up, and then some food. You must be hungry."
Even if Lara was a spy, she wouldn't have given in to an offer that transparent. She pressed her lips together, clearing the pain from her mind. "I'm not lying to you. I'm not a bloody spy."
The friendly façade fell away from the officer's face. "We will see." He leaned forward, jabbing the stick at her shoulder. She couldn't hold back the yelp, trying to roll away from him.
He dropped the stick as he stood, looking down at her for a moment before he sat back on the crate. "I'll be here, if you change your mind."
She didn't say anything, closing her eyes, trying to purge every scrap of pain and discomfort from her mind. The hours passed, the cold and pain worsening as the night lengthened.
It was among one of the longest nights of Lara's life, and she wasn't entirely dismayed when the shock caught up with her and slammed her back into unconsciousness just before the sun rose.
Lara's eyes opened slowly and she groaned as sleep fled from her, flinging her arm over her eyes. She'd never felt so weary before; she couldn't remember the last time she had slept, free from the nightmare that followed her. She sat up in bed, the sheets twisted around her waist, and ran a hand through her unbound hair.
There were two soft knocks at her door and Marc stuck his head through. "We're being tied up at the pier now. Your associate radioed; promised he'd be there when we arrived."
She stood up and stretched, not really caring that she was in her underwear. She reached into the duffel on the floor, pulling out a clean pair of shorts and slipping into them.
"Faris will be there. He's quite faithful…especially when there's money to be earned." She tugged a white tank top over her head before twisting her hair into her standard braid.
"I distrust him already," Marc said, lifting his eyes from the floor. Lara pulled on her boots, quickly lacing them before grabbing her twin gunbelt from where it was slung over the back of a chair, Berettas and all, fastening it around her hips and thighs.
"I would too, if I were you." Lara smiled mysteriously, slinging her backpack—the precious figurine inside—over her shoulder and breezily walking past him to the main deck. He followed her without another word.
Lara was already walking down the gangway, hand extended to a gruff looking Turkish man who stood at the edge of the dock.
"Lara!" he smiled broadly. Marc knew all about thieves, and this man's smile screamed that he was a shady character. Lara matched his fake smile with one of her own, shaking his hand firmly.
"You should not have traveled; it's a wonder you even managed to get here. Everyone is closing their borders to most travelers."
Lara looked nonchalant as Marc stood a pace off to her right. "This is an emergency, Faris."
The man laughed. "Everything is these days."
Lara cut straight to the chase. "We need to get into the United States, the quicker the better."
The man's smile melted away, eyes glittering at the talk of business. "I could get you to America, no problem. Getting you in easy, that is a little more complicated. Together…very expensive."
Lara reached into her backpack, pulling out something solidly rectangular wrapped in transparent plastic. Marc wasn't so surprised to see that it was a brick of bank notes.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand US dollars in mixed currency for the transportation and necessary papers."
Faris held up his hands. "Lady Croft, it is good to see that you recall my business practices, but you know that I am the one who should be quoting the price here." He peered at the brick of cash on Lara's hand. "Besides, the way things are now, that is not enough."
Lara looked pointedly at the nearly deserted streets of the town behind the man. "It appears to be a buyer's market here, Faris. Everyone who wants out is long gone." She paused for a moment, appearing to think, but Marc knew she was working on manipulating the man. A little concentration on his behalf softened the already weak mind of the swindler.
"I'll give you the cash for the transportation, Faris, and the boat for the papers." She smiled slyly. "If you'll look belowdecks, you'll be quite impressed. It outran a Greek patrol ship…I'm sure you can find some use for it."
Marc could see the beads of the abacus clicking in the man's mind, schemes within schemes being hatched…
"A deal, then, Lara." Faris smiled, taking the brick from Lara's hand with one of his left hand while shaking hers with his right. "The plane is waiting for you a little more than a mile from here. I have a car that will take you there. You will have the papers before you land."
Lara was all business, looking over her shoulder at Marc. "Let's go then."
~~~~~
A/N: Blame my Dean for the lack of updates. Additionally, while I will be writing a lot on paper this summer (and will probably finish "Weakness"), I will not have access to a computer for posting until August (blame the government!). I know that this is a long time, but I ask that those of you out there following this story/ my work keep the faith and remember me—I promise I'll make it worth your while!