A Young Girl's Outer Heaven
21
Commissioned by kyo amamoto.
"Mr. Singer!"
Pounding and a voice calling at his door pulled Sam from his sleep. The woman beside him stirred, moaning quietly in annoyance as she grabbed the pillow and pulled it down over her head. Sighing, Sam rolled out of bed and looked around for his discarded clothes.
"Hang on, I'm coming," he called, and the pounding stopped. Finding his boxers and slacks in a pile, he pulled them on and made his way to the door. Cracking it open, he looked out at one of the young men working for his local contact here in the state of Para, Brasa. "It's," he paused, then cast a quick formula, "five thirty in the morning. What do you want?"
"Come! The boat leaves soon and you will want to see!"
"Fine. Give me five minutes," Sam grumbled and closed the door. He quickly found the rest of his clothes from the night before and pulled them on, followed by taking his pistol from one of his bags and slipping it into the back of his pants, attaching the holster to the belt and pulling his shirt down over the top of it. Finally, he grabbed the straw hat he'd picked up from a local shop and pulled it on, before making his way to the bed.
"Hey," he pushed the girl's shoulder. "Sofia. I need to go."
"Mm, fine~," she waved him off, flicking her hand towards the door. "Just do it quietly."
Rolling his eyes, Sam gave her ass a quick rub before heading for the door. Slipping out, he locked it behind himself and gestured towards the hallway. "Lead on."
The local man nodded and Sam was forced to jog to keep up as they hurried out of the little villa and into a car waiting for them. Rolling down the window, Sam let his mind drift as the somewhat cool morning air slowly woke him up as they left the property—the residence of one Antonio 'Tony' Igual, younger brother to the former mayor of Bellum, Juan Igual.
Former mayor, because almost as soon as the Germans came to town, they began cleaning house according to everything Sam had been able to gather so far. They'd started from the top down, with a decapitation strike against the local corrupt government leadership, gangs, and anyone else who might cause them problems.
Except, little did the krauts know Tony was a Company asset and had been for nearly a decade, using his ties to his brother to report on the activities of the Green Family Cartel—one of many groups of interest across all of South America, and just one of many hornets nests they had stirred up. Uncle Sam didn't officially want to be seen minding his neighbors' business, so they paid people like Tony to keep them up to speed on local goings on. And while Tony wasn't directly working for the cartel, unlike his brother, he still did business with them, by using his boats to ship their product along with actual cargo—and it had made him rich.
Rich, well-connected, and with an axe to grind against the foreigners responsible for his brother's death and the former governor, now el presidente of Brasa who had hired the mercenaries to do it. Tony didn't see it as just business. His family had been hurt and that made it personal for him. Sam could and would use that to his advantage, but he acknowledged that it was going to bite him in the ass if Tony wasn't careful.
Things always get complicated and messy when it stops being business and gets personal, Sam mused as the car slowed, entering the busy dock area. I'm going to have to make sure he doesn't do something stupid and fuck up the whole operation.
Not that he had much room to speak. Sam had already made the cardinal sin of field work in mixing business with pleasure and getting attached. His contact in San Juan, Emilio Gaviria, was some third cousin or married to someone who was to Igual family—Sam couldn't be bothered to memorize the family tree or care. All that really mattered was what had come of it.
Sofia Gaviria, upon learning from her drunken uncle just what it was Sam did, had cornered him just before the boat left and demanded he take her with him. Sam would have said no, but when she began listing off Sam's own contacts better than he knew them, along with their wives, children and more details because she had lived in Bellum with the family before her father moved to San Juan and bought the bar, Sam had decided it would be convenient to take her along to pick her brain for details about the locals.
That, and having a pretty local woman on his arm if he needed it would hopefully assuage anyone's worries that he might be an American spy. Spy thrillers hitting the shelves recently all portrayed their protagonists as some kind of lone wolf who worked alone and only spoke with women to seduce them and pump them for information. Having a sexy, young, enthusiastic woman with him would better sell the cover of a businessman who came down on an assignment and happened to get lucky and find love.
And Sofia was very enthusiastic…
"We're here."
Sam's smile fell off as he pulled himself from the memory of last night with Sofia and got out of the car. Following Tony's man up onto a fishing boat, he shook the captain's offered hand. "Good morning."
"Come. We need to go," the captain motioned for Sam to follow him to the small, enclosed helm. Patting the man standing at the wheel on the shoulder, the captain jerked a thumb at the door and the other man left, leaving Sam alone with the captain. The fisherman throttled the boat up slowly and pulled them away from the dock, out into the river headed for the Atlantic.
"Is this what I think it is?" Sam asked, and the captain nodded.
"Yes. We were given the warning by the harbor master when we came in this morning," the captain confirmed. "We will move to a dock on the mouth of the river and wait. They like to stick to a strict schedule, so it won't take long."
After arriving in Bellum, Sam had quickly heard from both his contact and other locals that the Imperials were conducting some kind of testing off the coast with big bombs. Feeling that this might provide a lead on the theoretical weapon that had destroyed their fleet in the Atlantic, Sam had begun investigating.
Over the course of the week, he had also noted some strange mana fluctuations on the days when there was testing being done. It left him more and more convinced they were working on some kind of mana-based weapon that wasn't dependent on mages to operate, so he had Tony start putting out feelers to find a fishing boat captain willing to take him out to observe one of those tests.
With any luck, he'd be able to record everything and send it back home for the lab boys to analyze and figure out what the krauts were up to and maybe how they were doing it. It was just one of many leads he was pursuing, but probably one of the ones his bosses were most interested in—after all, if they could steal whatever research was being done, then America would have a new weapon in their arsenal.
"Mm. Don't suppose you have some coffee tucked away somewhere, do you?"
Chuckling, the captain nodded. "Below deck. There's a small galley with a pot brewed. Be careful though, it's strong."
Yawning, Sam left the cabin and found the stairs leading down into the forward part of the ship, well away from where they stored the fish they caught. Following his nose, he found the galley and grinned as he found an electric coffee maker waiting. Opening a locked cabinet, he raised an eyebrow at the small cups he found.
"The hell are these? Shot glasses? Women's coffee cups?" he grunted. Rifling through the drawers, he eventually found a proper, man sized coffee cup and closed everything back up. Pouring a cup, took a sip and immediately choked, then yelped as a splash hit his shirt and burned him. "Fuck!"
Looking at the cup like it had betrayed him, Sam set it down and cleaned up his shirt as much as it could with a dish towel. Looking around, he found a refrigerator in the corner with a fresh bottle of milk and quickly poured a few splashes in, until it suited his taste. Making his way back to the helm, the captain briefly glanced up as he entered, looking at the cup and the stain on Sam's shirt and chuckling.
"Good stuff, huh?"
"Sure," Sam sighed, leaning against the wall and watching out the windows, slowly finishing up the cup.
It was too long later that he saw open ocean and the captain pulled up to a small dock at the mouth of the river. Sam had enough time to finish off his coffee and for it to kick in, leaving him feeling like he'd drank half a pot, before the captain pointed out the windshield. "There they are."
Looking up, Sam spotted another fishing boat—this one towing a much smaller barge with some kind of equipment on it. Activating his computation orb, he spun up a formula to start recording and taking pictures. After the other boat passed, the captain fired up their own boat and took off after them, setting a course that would see them moving parallel to their target's course, just at the edge of the horizon.
They were miles out to sea when the captain throttled down and brought them to a stop as the other boat passed over the horizon and out of normal sight. "This is it." Opening the door, he called out, "Cast the nets!"
Sam activated his remote viewing formula and sent his vision ahead, watching as the other boat slowed to a stop and maneuvered the barge into position. Carefully observing the people inside as they began detaching the boat and working on what looked like magical equipment, Sam took photos of them as well to look over later.
Small crew for the boat. Two aerial mages belonging to MSF. An old scientist or something. Three assistants. Equipment looks like a magi-radio, a recording device, and some kind of… is that a mana detection array? Mana detection equipment was actually common, but if someone had figured out how to get a magical equivalent of RADAR working for magi-tech, then that was something his superiors would want to know. So, he marked it down as of interest and watched as they finished their setup and eventually lifted something from the barge and lowered it into the water, attached to a buoy.
Sam and the captain watched as the boat and barge turned. It looked to be heading back to Bellum, but Sam caught sight of one of the other crew taking out a set of binoculars and looking around. They were spotted quickly and the other boat changed course.
"Shit. They saw us."
The captain seemed unbothered. "Relax, senor. Just go below and wait."
Sam didn't like it, but he nodded and hurried below deck. He checked his pistol and backup magazine, making sure he was ready if things went south, then leaned against the wall beside the door leading back up and waited, cutting his spying formula and praying the other mages didn't do an active sweep. A few minutes later, he heard engines approach and their pitch change as they slowed.
"Guten tag, gentlemen!" a boisterous man's voice called from the other boat.
"Good morning, senor," the captain called back. "Can we help you?"
"Actually, we're here to help you," the first man laughed. "I guess the harbor master didn't get the word out quickly enough this morning. You see, we're conducting dangerous tests out here. Life threatening, even! Now, we can't force you to leave the area, but I strongly urge you to follow us to the minimum safe distance. I don't want to be responsible for any deaths, but, well… accidents happen, you know!"
"More blasting?" the captain asked.
"Oh yes. A very big blast this time. Much larger than anything we've done to date. So, for your own safety, please come with us. You can certainly choose not to, of course, but if you do I'll need you to sign these waivers. You see, my boss gets kind of… unreasonable about what she calls 'wasting human resources' and 'avoidable civilian casualties due to negligence.' If you died, she would take away my budget! Again! Then it would be a whole rigmarole of allegations, and investigations, and safety inspectors," the sheer disdain in those two words made Sam wince in sympathy, "and I just don't want to go through the punishment that is her process. It's a headache I'd like to live without! Surely you understand?"
"Haha. Sure, sure," the captain chuckled. "Alright, men! Haul it in! I want us ready to leave in ten minutes!" His next comment was directed at the scientist at Sam's guess. "Blast that big is going to upset the fish for miles."
"Yes, I'm sorry. Hang on. One of you. Yes, you! Take down the captain's information, then get him a reimbursement form for the day when we get back."
Sam listened as things devolved into idle chatter as the fishermen brought in the nets. Eventually, the two boats' engines started up again and they began moving. A moment later, there was a soft knock on the door. Sam lowered his pistol and one of the men poked his head in. "Sir, captain says you can come up, but stay low. We're behind the other boat, so you can sit behind the pilothouse and you'll be fine."
Nodding, Sam tucked away his gun and came out on deck, taking a seat and waiting. Eventually, the radio came to life in the pilothouse. A moment later, the captain opened the door and stuck his head out. "Everyone below deck!"
As the crew scrambled below, the captain looked to Sam. "That was doctor Schugel. He said not to look directly behind us or you'll go blind. And to cover your ears. They'll set it off any minute now."
"Thanks," Sam called, pulling his sun glasses on and getting ready to cover his ears. Checking to make sure his orb was recording, Sam activated a second formula to detect and measure mana output. A few moments later, the radio came to life again. Ten seconds later, a bright flash on the horizon behind them made Sam wince.
Very quickly, water filled the air—a geyser that erupted thousands of feet into the sky. His mana detection formula whited out and to his magical senses, it was like standing in a furnace made of mana. It hurt, like looking into the sun, but he couldn't look away because there was no way to turn down his mana sensitivity.
Through the pain, Sam stared. It felt like his heart stopped as he watched it all unfold in what looked like the world moving through molasses. A visible distortion traveled through the air and, a moment later, he felt the impact like a whole body punch as the blast wave hit. He jerked as the windows of the pilothouse shattered, throwing glass all over.
This is it. This is what wiped out that fleet. Fuck me, we were right! The krauts got to it first.
Sam sat stunned, staring in open-mouthed shock and slowly mounting horror as his mind processed what he was seeing and applied it to a battlefield—and then made the leap to a city. For a moment, he felt sick—horrified, even—before it was swept away with anger.
The Germans were down here testing some kind of new super weapon, right in America's back yard! This was a threat so much larger and more immediate than the commies. Sure, commies taking the Panama canal and infecting South America with their ideology would be a long term nightmare and a big problem for everyone, but that was in a year for the first and decades for the second. They had time to deal with that.
Or they would, except Sam was looking at a weapon that could wipe out large sections of major cities. They had no time when the enemy could just fly over and drop one on the White House. Or send one up on a boat and sneak it into the country, put it in a truck, and park it somewhere in D.C.. There wouldn't be a future for his country if their enemies had weapons like this—weapons capable of destruction en masse—and America didn't, to balance the scales. And America couldn't allow some other country, let alone some pissant third world nobodies, have a gun pointed to their collective heads.
But then, that was the problem, wasn't it. This so-called 'Military Without Borders' claimed to be a private army, a mercenary company who would hire out their services to the highest bidder. But that wasn't what Sam saw.
No, he saw a bunch of German patriots using another country's resources to finish up research on a German super weapon—something that would have ended the war decisively in the Germans' favor but which had come too late to prevent their surrender. But that first test that had taken out one of their fleets was a warning. And now, they had what they needed to threaten America and the rest of their allies into backing off and granting concessions—perhaps even putting a stop entirely to the war crime trials and reversing the decisions already made behind closed doors to blame and bill the Germans for everything. Germany would take America's place as the biggest player on the world stage—as the one who set policy and everyone else was forced to obey. They couldn't let that happen.
I have to get back and send someone. Get the word out. They have to send someone down here to deal with this and clean it up.
A thought occurred and Sam nearly groaned. The Federation sent people to invade. Aerial mages. If they get here first, I don't think even the Jerries here can hold that many off. Then, these bombs will go straight into the hands of the Federation. Fuck! Germany just wants everyone to back the hell off. They're reasonable enough not to actually use one unless we force them to. The Russy will absolutely use them if they have them and we don't. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'll just fly back—
Sam froze as the mana pressure abruptly let up. Movement caught his eye and he looked up, to see an aerial mage flying overhead, towards the still rising column of water. Long blonde hair and the small stature left little doubt as to just who it was.
She stopped and hovered in the air and, as Sam watched, the air began to shimmer before streamers of blue light began to condense and flow towards her. It took a minute but, as the sensation of burning alive in mana faded completely and his formula stopped reading beyond the scale, Sam realized what he was seeing.
The blue light? That was all of the excess mana lingering in the air, condensing like water vapor into clouds. And all of it was now rushing towards the young woman just floating there, where it disappeared inside her. She was absorbing enough mana that Sam was pretty sure that if he hadn't left soon, it would have killed him just from being around it.
The readings! He realized, casting his mind to his formula and finding what he'd suspected. A sharp uptick in local mana and then a sudden drop. Of course, being on top of it, that 'uptick' was huge. He bet that if he had measuring equipment on the shore, it would read the same as it had for every test since. Which meant—
No, that's not possible. The Devil is good, but she's not capable of just swallowing that much mana herself. No one is. They'd fucking explode long before they got even a fraction of that mana in. She's gotta be storing it in something. Some new computation orb capable of fixing mana. She's just like any other mage—just one wearing a super weapon. Disarm her and she's working off the same limitations the rest of us are. And then we'd have that computation orb full of mana. We could give it to one of our troops and make them a monster— Wait. Is that how she did it? Has she had it this whole time? It'd explain some things—
Sam's thoughts abruptly cut off as the blonde finished siphoning off the excess mana and turned back the way she'd come from. She paused, looking down at them, and though Sam couldn't see it from this distance, he could feel her eyes on him. He felt her mana briefly reach out, pinging him specifically in a narrow band ping that Sam hadn't thought was even possible, given the level of control over one's own mana it would require.
She shot forward and down and Sam stood as he realized she was coming for him. Bending down, he collected the hat that had been blown off his head and put it back on before straightening up. Okay, just relax. So she felt I'm a mage. I'll just say I was injured in a training accident or something and moved into the private sector.
The blonde touched down on the deck of the ship just a few feet from him. Silver-blue eyes met Sam's darker blue through his sun glasses. She smiled, and Sam felt a shiver run down his spine. It really was like looking into the eyes of some kind of predator, sizing him up and having the absolute certainty that she could eat him if she wanted and it wouldn't even be a fight. It was so much worse seeing it in person.
"Good morning." The Devil brushed a lock of windswept blonde hair out of her face and strode forward, offering a hand. Sam looked it at it like he'd look at a snake. The blonde frowned minutely, raising an eyebrow.
Sam forced himself to move and took her hand. It didn't feel at all like touching a snake. It was as smooth as any woman's hand he'd ever held, but at the same time it was like grabbing a live wire. Mana roared just below her skin, the intensity of it making his flesh tingle and his mana recoil instinctively inside himself as he felt a faint tug on it.
"Morning," Sam managed to get out.
"You know," she began, releasing his hand as the smile returned, "you've been a bit impolite since coming to my country. You should have at least introduced yourself first. Perhaps offered to take me to dinner."
Blinking, Sam was momentarily confused. "Excuse me?"
"Of course," the blonde nodded magnanimously. "It's understandable. You've been very busy, after all." Her tone turned teasing as she continued, "It probably slipped your mind, between all the diving through our trash, poking around our island, and following my people."
Sam felt his blood run cold and he opened his mouth to protest, to give his cover story, but she cut him off. "This must be embarrassing for you but don't worry, I'm sure it happens to all the three letter agency spies at some point. I am General Tanya von Degurechaff, Brasa Army, Mage Corps. And you are Agent Samuel Singer, field operative for the American Central Intelligence Agency."
Seeing that she had him dead to rights, Sam reached behind his back and drew his pistol, bringing it up and pointing it in her face as he primed a standard armor penetrating formula—as opposed to the explosive formula he really wanted to use, but couldn't if he didn't want to kill everyone on the boat.
His pistol was steady as he looked at her over the sights, the blade of the front sight leveled on her right eye. "How the fuck do you know that?"
"Now that's just rude," she huffed.
A moment later, the blonde moved—much faster than anything Sam had ever come up against in training. She grabbed the pistol and shoved it up, before twisting his arm and forcing it out of his hand. He was reaching for his knife when she spun and pulled, jerking him over her shoulder and tossing him into the deck with a force that knocked the wind from his lungs. Sam found her small fingers twisting the knife out of his grasp as she fell into the middle of his back, planting her knee in his spine as she jerked both arms up behind his back.
Sam struggled to break free, only to freeze when his knife buried itself in the deck right in front of his eyes, blade facing towards him, and she released one of his hands to grab him by his short hair and shove his head towards the knife. She only stopped when it touched the space between his eyes—his eyelashes touching the blade when he blinked just once, before he didn't feel it again. From the faint but compact mana on it, he realized she had lined just part of the edge with a mage blade—one wrong move and he'd be getting the last shave of his life.
General Degurechaff sighed from her position above him. "We could have had this conversation over dinner in a nice restaurant like civilized professionals, showing each other common courtesies and mutual respect. Instead, now we get to have it here, with you at the edge of my blade."
Taking a breath, Sam grunted out, "Fine. What the fuck do you want?"
"What do I want?" she echoed, sounding confused. "Mr. Singer, what I want hadn't changed since I allowed you to listen in to our briefing and planning session aboard the Ingrid—at least, it hadn't until you pulled your sidearm on me and showed me that you aren't willing to speak as equals, but feel the need to always have the upper hand in any negotiation. So, to reiterate what I said then: I want a place to live, free of war, corruption, and the depredations, depravity, death, and destruction that comes with living under a communist regime—and I want to be paid to do it.
"As for my new demands, I want you and your people to keep their noses out of our business if you can't understand such basic principles as courtesy and manners. And I want you personally on the first plane out of my country. Consider yourself under arrest and summary judgment rendered for assault with a deadly weapon. You are to be deported immediately. Don't worry about finding a flight yourself, I'll provide you transport back to the States."
"You can't just—" Sam began, only to shut up as she jerked his head just slightly.
"I'll think you'll find that I can, in fact, just. Now, you can either walk under your own power and under armed guard, or I can have you shipped back in pieces small enough to fit into your trunk. The choice is yours—but make no mistake, it is a choice and your next actions and words will determine which you choose."
"Fine. Yeah. Okay. I'll go. Just let me up," Sam grunted.
"Good man," the young woman above him nodded. She released his head and arm and climbed off of him, allowing Sam to collect his knife and pistol and put them away. Holding out her hand, she demanded, "Your computation orb." Sam hesitated and she added, "It will be returned to you upon arrival in America."
Sighing, Sam dug into his pocket and fished out his orb, handing it over. General Degurechaff opened the front cover and studied it for a few moments, probing it with her mana, before snorting. Sam worried she might delete his recordings but, to his surprise, she didn't. Instead, she waved over doctor Schugel's two guards from the other boat, who flew over and landed beside them.
She handed off his orb to one of them and began giving orders. "Escort our guest to his current place of residence and allow him to collect his things, then take him to the air field. You will accompany him on his flight back and only return that when he steps off of the plane. His female companion can stay or go with him, I don't care which. If he gives you any trouble, deal with it."
"Yes, ma'am!" both men saluted, before grabbing Sam by the elbows and lifting him up off the boat, moving him to the one the doctor was using.
Sam watched as she left and the boat started up. The guards watched him like a hawk, but they didn't stop him when he began examining the equipment set up on the boat.
"Curious?" the mad scientist asked, a grin crossing his lips.
"A bit, yeah." That was an understatement. The more he could get out of them, the better. His cover was blown and he was being kicked out, so he needed to be able to tell the next guy sent down where to start looking, and tell his bosses what they needed to hear. "That bomb back there. Pure mana?"
"Yes!" Schugel grinned. "Not a trace of conventional explosives. I've been experimenting a bit and I've discovered something quite remarkable, you see. It turns out that at the scale we're operating at, converting mana into a formula—such as an explosive formula—is less efficient than simply setting off an explosion of raw mana! Who would have thought?" The man laughed, before touching something at his wrist—some kind of bracelet made of local beads like the ones Sam had seen in the market, except that looking closer, he realized they were elinium beads.
"She did!" the doctor answered his own question with a mad grin. "Ah~ such a visionary! But never mind that! I'm sure your superiors will want to have more precise data!" Schugel took out a notepad and began scribbling. "Give them this, when you get back."
Sam stared at the man, wondering which of them had gone insane. "…Why would you just give out information like this?"
"Hm? Why do you think Gen. von Degurechaff is sending you back? It's so you can tell them what you've learned. If you say you saw an explosion, they'll ask how large. Conventional mana measurement formulas don't account for that much mana, so to your formula it would have looked like it peaked the scale. This is a formula to convert it into numbers it can understand. Of course, they're going to look at the readings. Hand them over to my counterparts. And when they see the actual numbers… Heh," the doctor grinned. "Then and only then will they understand the scale we're operating at."
"Yes, but why help the enemy?"
Schugel sent Sam a look that questioned his intelligence. "I thought it was obvious. Aren't you supposed to be some stripe of secret agent? Don't they teach you people how to think for yourselves? Bah!" Shaking his head, Schugel's speech slowed and he spoke louder, as though talking to an idiot. "People don't understand big numbers by themselves. If I say twenty megatons you'll have no idea what that actually means. But that gun in your holster? You understand that. A bomb dropping from a plane, the explosion you saw—you understand those. Because you've seen what they can do."
Sam thought on it a moment and eventually, it clicked. He understood. The general wanted them to know, because she wanted to show them just how big the gun she had pointed at them was, if they did something she didn't like.
Well fuck her. We're not just going to roll over and take it. The little bitch has to sleep some time.