Author: Bobby Cox smeghead_76@dodo.com.au
Disclaimer: Some of the characters are mine. Some aren't. The 'verse in which this is set, however, belongs to Peter F. Hamilton (the 'Night's Dawn' trilogy 'verse). There may or may not be characters and situations belonging to ME productions and the team that writes Buffy. I'm just covering my arse there. No money will be made from this, but if someone *thinks* it's good enough to make money, I'd be flattered :)
Summary: This is a parallel story to 'In Their Shadow' by rei_ite (and later on, myself), and provides back-story for Xander's activities on Earth. Basically, vampires and the Light Bringer sect - a Satanic cult (no, really!) - are starting to bump heads with each other in the Downtown section of the Los Angeles arcology. Normally, the authorities wouldn't pay too much attention to something like this.
However, when the fighting spills over to the Uptown sections...
AN: The follwing text formats will be used for datavises and affinity:
Affinity will be represented as such: AffinityDatavises will be represented as such:{Datavise}
"This is going to be a war unlike any in history. Not even the Mortonridge Liberation, and the possessed, can be compared to the things we'll be fighting. But this is a fight that has been going on for uncounted millennia, and only now has it been brought out into the open.
"We owe it to those who went before us, those who fought in secret, not only to preserve our way of life, but our very existence. The warriors who, if their fight had been made public then, would have been ridiculed as insane instead of being lauded as the heroes that they were.
"The Slayers, in particular.
"Young women, ripped from normal life, and tossed straight into the front lines of a war waged in the shadows. For too long, they fought alone, with a minimum amount of support, against creatures that were trying to bring about the extinction of the human species.
"Well, I say, 'NO MORE!'
"If a war is going to be waged for our survival as a species, then I DEMAND a place in that battle, for I would consider myself to be far less than a man if I did otherwise.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let's show these things what it means to be a Marine!"
"HOO-RAH!"
- Address to the troops, 7th June, 2614 (2614) Colonel James Anderson, Commanding Officer, 2nd Marine Brigade
Jonsson's new lair
Sunnydale Dome, Los Angeles arcology
7th June, 2614
The building that had been selected as a fallback base of operations was now operational, though significantly less 'bustling' than the previous lair.
Not that that was any great surprise, given the losses they'd taken in the battle that had forced the move. Like all alternate sites for any enterprise throughout history, it was less well-equipped than the primary site had been, probably because while Jonsson had been thorough enough to have backup sites, he hadn't been quite paranoid enough to really believe that one of them would be used.
Can it be called paranoia when there really is someone out to get you? Jonsson mused thoughtfully, perched on his 'throne' in the main chamber of the new lair.
He wasn't exactly brooding on his failures - and none of his minions was suicidal enough to suggest that to him - but he was giving some heavy thought to the circumstances that had brought him here. The sects.
The Light Bringers had struck harder than he had thought possible, and to compound matters, the LAPD had reacted faster than he had anticipated as well. The one less-dark point - it couldn't be called bright, exactly - had been that 'only' four squads had responded initially - obviously, the LAPD had been caught off-guard - and they had been ill-equipped for what they had faced.
Jonsson knew that that would change quickly, however, and that the AT teams would be back, looking to seek vengeance on those who had inflicted such losses on them.
And the military couldn't be too far behind them, either.
It is more than possible that they will be suitably equipped, Jonsson thought. And even if they are not, the sheer amount of firepower they will possess will be troubling.
And then there were the Slayers to take into consideration as well. Even if they didn't know about the losses he had taken, they would now be actively hunting him - even if they hadn't been before - and the reports coming in from the surveillance on them were troubling in the extreme, especially the numbers of vampires and demons they were eliminating each night.
Granted, the Slayerettes had been taking out individuals and small groups operating independently, but the fact that they were able to find individuals and small groups so effectively was disturbing, as it meant that it was possible that they would be able to cut out small groups of his minions and thereby whittle down his forces piecemeal.
Suddenly, he came to a decision. If he was to achieve his goals, he would need to either unite the undead population of Los Angeles under his leadership, or to massively increase his numbers rapidly.
Either course of action posed dangerous risks. Sending out messages or messengers posed the risk of revealing his location to either the Slayerettes or the authorities, and that didn't take into consideration the inherent risks of the face-to-face meeting or meetings that would be required. It was all too possible that word of the meeting would reach the wrong ears, and attending such a meeting would be like sticking one's head into an antimatter drive tube.
The second course of action was more immediately dangerous, but if he could pull it off, the rewards were at least as great. The trouble - the immediate trouble, he corrected himself - was the fact that a pissed-off LAPD had massively increased their patrol schedules for the Downtown disctricts.
But that created an opportunity elsewhere. If the police patrols here had increased dramatically, that meant that patrols elsewhere had been reduced...
Jonsson's brewing plans were cut short by a chime from his neural nanonics.
It had come as a surprise when he had discovered that vampires could use neural nanonics, given the fact that the hosts that vampires inhabited were technically corpses and that neural nanonics were powered by the electrical currents that operated the brain.
At first, it had taken incredible concentration to operate neural nanonics, but practice had made it easier with time. Of course, getting the neural nanonics in the first place was tricky. It was either necessary to trust an illegal medical clinic, using bootlegged neural nanonics - with the threat of extreme violence if anything went wrong - or trust that someone they turned already had them implanted. That was an unreliable method, given the fact that few people in the Downtown areas could afford even the cheapest model.
It was impossible for vocal inflections to be transmitted over a datavise carrier wave, but Jonsson knew that if it was possible, the voice would have been a dead, dry hiss.
{We are the Order of Teraka. Why do you require our services, vampire?}
It didn't surprise Jonsson at all that the Order knew who - and what - he was. He wouldn't have been particularly surprised if one of the Order had simply shown up in the middle of his lair and asked for him by name. The Order had a way of getting to wherever they wanted, no mater what.
Which, of course, made them such valuable and useful assassins.
He didn't even think of trying to trace the datavise. According to well-founded rumour, the last person who tried it had found their neural nanonics melting inside their head. And since neural nanonics were so intimately connected to the brain, the person had died a quick but painful death as a large part of their brain tissue had simply been vaporised.
{I wish to make use of your talents to remove an... impediment.}
{We require names and descriptions, vampire.}
Jonsson datavised the names and image files of both Slayers and the Slayerettes that he had acquired from careful reconnaissance.
{Two Slayers, and their assistants}, he added. {They may prove troublesome to eliminate.}
{That is none of your concern, vampire. The only thing you have to trouble yourself with is our fee. Five million fuseodollars.}
Jonsson knew that the quoted fee was non-negotiable. But as the ancient saying went, 'You get what you pay for'. And he knew that he was paying for the best.
The transfer of funds took but seconds, and used up a large amount of his available funds. That did not concern him, so long as the Slayerettes were eliminated.
{The next time we communicate, vampire, will be to inform you that your... impediments... have been removed.}
****
Marine base, Asteroid 'Okinowa'
O'Neill Halo, Sol system
7th June, 2614
As Alex started transferring his clothes and other belongings that he had taken with him when he went on leave from his duffle bag to his locker, his squad sergeant stuck her head through the door. "Glad I ran into you, Alex," she said. "The Boss has been calling in all platoon commanders and company NCO's into his office one at a time, and you're the last one on the list."
"I only just got back, sarge," Alex replied, stating the obvious.
"Oh, you're not in trouble," she replied. "He's got something important to pass on, and before you ask, yes, it does have something to do with why all leaves were cut short."
"Fair enough," Alex commented as he stripped down to shorts and a T-shirt and grabbed an olive-drab fatigue jumpsuit from his locker. As he shrugged it on, he continued. "Can you tell me more, or do I have to wait until I see the captain?"
The sergeant shivered slightly. "You've got to wait. But I can tell you that it isn't pretty."
By this time, the two of them were headed down the base's corridors towards the company commander's office, dodging Marines who were bustling from the armoury to the supply rooms to the loading docks in the spaceport. All were carrying weapons, equipment and stores for an extended campaign.
"I guess all this," Alex waved a hand at the activity all around them, "has got something to do with it, too?"
The sergeant nodded. "You'll have to wait until you see the Boss for that, as well."
By this time, they had arrived at the Commanding Officer's door. Alex knocked and announced, "Corporal Matthews reporting as ordered, sir."
"Enter, corporal."
Alex opened the door and marched to stand in front of the captain's desk, where he assumed the position of attention. "Stand easy, corporal," Captain Luke Edgar said, and Alex shifted to the parade rest position. "I guess you're wondering why you're here," he continued.
"The thought had crossed my mind," Alex confessed.
"I'm sorry to have to cut your leave short," Edgar said, seemingly changing the subject. "I know we've only just come off a three-month deployment, but something important has cropped up. Here's something you should see."
Alex accepted the datavised files - they were the Harris File and the Henderson report. Since he'd already seen them both, they didn't disturb him too greatly, but he used his neural nanonics to paste an appropriate expression on his face. "Dear God..."
"Yes, it does make for grim viewing," Edgar agreed gravely. "But we're going to do something about it."
"So that's why everyone's rushing about the way they are," Alex said, and pretended to think for a moment. "I take it the 'something' that we're going to do is to fight them, right?" At Edgar's confirming nod, Alex continued, "But will we have the right equipment to do the job properly, sir?"
Edgar nodded grimly. "As I'm sure you've noticed from the file, wooden stakes and incendiary rounds should prove effective, and I've been assured that sufficient amounts of the appropriate ammunition will be made available."
"I guess that just leaves one more question, then, sir. When do we leave?"