by Adam Carter
Over the past century, the snake creatures, named the Nagas, had developed a higher sense of being and begun to question their lot in life. Recently they had been granted more legal rights than ever before, and there was even talk of extending to them the vote.
The University of Higher Learning had taken a Nagas as a mascot many years earlier and had been visionary as being the first university to accept Nagas individuals as students, thereby officially recognising the species’ capacity for bettering themselves. The university treated the Nagas as people rather than animals, or sub-humans, and to reflect this had even changed its name. It was now known as the Higher Institution of Nagas and Geological Education, meaning that they would teach the Nagas and humans alike in every matter relating to the Earth. Being the university standing on the cusp of the new era, they had felt the name had suited them, the acronym indicating they were standing upon a turning point in history. The word ‘geological’ did not quite fit, yet it needed to for the acronym to make sense.
Of course, some of the old racial hatreds which had existed within the human species since its very conception would never be entirely eradicated.
With regards to the contests, however, the Nagas team had won every year, for they were naturally better pilots and their reflexes were superior to those of humans. The Nagas had entered a team into the contests even before they had been allowed to study at the university, for it had begun as a challenge, and when the human teams had lost, it only spurred them to win the next year. Each year the teams would clash and each year the Nagas would win. It was said that if ever a team of human beings should ever fairly defeat the Nagas, the contests would be cancelled forevermore.
“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Kiel said by way of offering an apology she would never bring herself to utter. “Let’s not fall out over those things, please.”
“Those things happen to be people, Sara.”
“People?” Kiel tried not to laugh. “You can call them individuals if you like, since I suppose that much is true, you could even call them intelligent after a fashion, although technically they assimilate data and process it, like machines. They don’t learn from it like humans, they just process it. Therefore, they cannot be termed people.”
“They learn just as well as anyone. Just look at their pass rate at the university.”
“Oh puh-lease. They’re walking computers, it’s the way their brains were designed. They learn from experience only because they find it difficult to forget something, but that doesn’t mean they know anything about living. They don’t have hobbies, they don’t have relationships of any kind, you’d be hard-pressed to find one which had a favourite colour, and even then it wouldn’t know why it had chosen the one it had.”
“It?”
“Sorry,” Kiel said in a tone which suggested she was anything but. “Poor choice of word perhaps.”
“Perhaps?”
“All right, so it was.”
“Look,” Tarne said, “don’t think I’m not onto you people. You think that by sticking me in that contraption, you’ll stand a chance at defeating the Nagas this year. You think my increased mental abilities will somehow boost the chances of human victory. You need me, and don’t ever think I don’t know that.”
“You’ll win,” Kiel said with narrowing eyes, “because we can’t stand to lose against those things again. Every year, the human race faces humiliation at the hands of the Nagas, and it’s about time we took some of that glory back.”
“And it’s all right to fight one creature with another? What’s the matter, Sara, don’t think an ordinary human can beat the Nagas?”
“I know you think you’re superior to everyone else, Heather, just because of your brain capacity, but don’t you dare take that tone of voice with me.”
“I am better than you, Sara, and it has nothing to do with my brain capacity. Now,” she said icily, “I really do have better places to be than standing here arguing with you about really rather silly notions. Good day.”
To this, Kiel found, she could say nothing; and so, alone, all she could do was rage in silence.
*
Heather Tarne was livid, although she would never give Kiel the satisfaction of knowing it. Racial intolerance was seemingly a staple of human society and she doubted their species would ever be rid of it. That there was no such hatred from the Nagas only suggested they were themselves the superior species. Perhaps, she had often theorised, the reason for the existence of humans was to have created the Nagas that they might inherit the Earth. It would answer the age-old question of ‘Why are we here?’ although would also mean that the purpose of the human race had been fulfilled, and that sooner or later the Nagas would rise in their droves and systematically eradicate the species from the planet. Tarne found she was not quite as disturbed by the idea as perhaps she should have been. If it was pre-determined that humanity would be replaced by its own creation, perhaps it was indeed time they stepped aside to allow their children to flourish.
Most certainly, she would not mention this to anyone either.
In her anger she had taken to walking the university grounds, but stopped when a bush began to stir. Slowly did a very ungainly individual stumble out. “Hey, Jagrad,” she said with a smile.
Jagrad Darkthorne attempted to right himself, and only barely succeeded when he had a wall by which to set his back. He was bleary eyed and obviously very drunk, and from the looks of him had just been dragged through a hedge backwards. Which was probably quite close to the truth.
“Nice night to spend in a bush,” Tarne noted.
“I thought so too,” Darkthorne said, his eyes wavering about and refusing to make contact with hers. “Until I fell in one.”
“You fell in a bush?”
“The saviour bush.”
Tarne was about to ask what he was talking about, but really didn’t want to know. It was at precisely this moment, however, that Sparky appeared, whooping with joy and clapping Darkthorne upon the back. “D.T., my man!” he cried. Did you see that, Heather? Triple-twist dive, ending in the belly-flop into the bush.”
Tarne blinked, wondering whether she had heard correctly. “You jumped into a bush, Jagrad?”
“I flooooooo,” Darkthorne said, crossing his thumbs and waving his fingers as though making the shadow puppet of a bird.
“Crashed, too,” Sparky laughed. “D.T. doesn’t seem to realise it’s going to be you up in the air, Heather.”
“Yeah, and I can so hardly wait. Sparky, why don’t you take Jagrad and get him cleaned up. I’m going to head back to my dorm, I’m not feeling too well.”
“Sure, Heather. Hey, you’re going to be all right for tomorrow, right?”
“I’m fine, just sick to my stomach of certain people who aren’t present.”
“Just remember we all have a lot riding on this, Heather. We pull this off and we can pick whatever future we like.”
“Yeah, and if we fail in it, we can still do that, all except for Jagrad here.”
“Why’s that?” Sparky asked.
“We’re all going to pass and he’s going to fail.”
“Well I sure hope that’s not a premonition,” Sparky said.
“Don’t worry, Sparky,” Tarne said, “my mind isn’t quite yet equipped to dealing with clairvoyance.”
“Shame, you could have told me how much we’re going to win by.”
As Sparky led Darkthorne away, stumbling several times, Tarne turned with a frown to head in the other direction. She had claimed that clairvoyance was beyond her ken, and yet when she had predicted that they would all pass while Darkthorne would fail, it was not merely stating the obvious, for it was more. She could almost picture the four of them sitting around a table doing something, and talking about where they would all be in the near future. It was a strangely dominant image in her mind, she could even sense money changing hands.
“Miss Tarne.”
Heather snapped her head up, startled by the sudd
en speech. Before her there stood a Nagas. He was shorter than she, which was unusual for their race, and he fought to master a smile. His skin was moss-green, scaled and smooth to the touch, no matter how slimy it appeared. He was garbed in jeans and a loose T-shirt, with trainers made especially for his kind. His tail swished slowly from side to side behind him.
“Hey, Charlie,” she said, returning the smile.
“I was wondering,” he said in perfect, if a little raspy, English, “whether there was anything I might do to aid in your glider? The contest is tomorrow and I know you still have a few kinks to work out in the design.”
“That would be great,” Tarne said, “although I’m not sure the others would much like you hanging around our glider. They’d likely think you were scouting the opposition.”
Charlie shrugged. Many of the Nagas had adopted human names through choice, for initially they had all been given rather silly snake-sounding names such as S’Rek and S’Lithe. “I’m not affiliated with any teams,” he said truthfully.
“I wish I’d done that at the beginning,” Tarne said, “but I’ve promised Sparky and the others I’ll go up there and I can hardly back out.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” Charlie said. “I hope you win, and believe you stand a good chance of being able to, if you’d like for my honest opinion.”
“I’m not so sure I even want to win.”
“You would become instant celebrities, why would you not want that?”
“Because when we fade away as celebrities, we become D-list and’ll be relegated to appearing on those awful ‘I used to be someone, get me a contract’ reality shows.”
“Unfortunately, we Nagas are not sad enough to actually watch such things.”
“Another reason why we humans are inferior.”
“Heather.” The voice belonged to Sara Kiel, and Tarne turned to see her approach at a steady trot. She slowed when she saw she had caught the other woman’s attention. “Look, about before ...”
“What about before?” Tarne snapped.
“All right, I deserved that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. You know me, always joking.”
“Don’t try it with me, Sara. You just want me to try my best up there, so you’re trying to sweet-talk me.”
“Screw the contest, Heather, and I mean that. You’re my friend and I don’t want us to argue over something stupid like this.”
“So the Nagas are stupid, are they?” Tarne asked.
“It is not worth arguing about,” Charlie said quietly.
“The hell it isn’t,” Tarne said. “Sara, you have to understand there’s intelligence in this world beyond the human race. A few centuries ago, yeah that wasn’t true, but times have changed and you’re still living in a time in which you weren’t even born.”
“All right, I admit I’m not the fondest fan of the Nagas,” Kiel said, “but at least I’m not a violent protester to their existence. I don’t go out and beat them up or hold marches or go to church and preach sermons against their creation.”
“So you’re not actively against the Nagas,” Tarne said. “Fair enough, but you could still be a little nicer towards them.”
“I’ve never not been nice to them.”
“Then why are you ignoring Charlie?”
“Charlie?”
“You haven’t said hello to him, or even acknowledged his presence.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me. Who’s Charlie?”
“Charlie? He’s ... He’s gone,” Tarne said, and it was true. She spun about in complete circles, although there was no sign of Charlie anywhere. “Where’d he go?”
“Heather, I don’t know anyone named Charlie, and I certainly didn’t see anyone with you when I got here.”
“Then you must have trained yourself not to be able to see the Nagas,” Tarne retorted heatedly.
Kiel sighed. “Look, maybe you should go home and get some rest, yeah?”
“What, because I have a big day tomorrow?”
“No, because I’m starting to worry about your mental health. I mean, I’ve never been too thrilled about that course you’re doing, although it seems to be messing with your brain.”
“I’m fine,” Tarne protested. “And I’ll be fine for tomorrow’s competition.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t go up there.”
“What is this, reverse psychology?”
“I’m serious. If you’re not up to it mentally, then maybe you shouldn’t go. I don’t want you zoning out up there, seeing things that aren’t there. You remember the Solosi brothers of ‘04? Their glider crashed and their pilot was killed.”
“It’s a dangerous competition,” Tarne said, “and I accept that. That’s why I signed the waiver, right?”
“Heather ...”
“I’m serious. I’m going up in that glider tomorrow, Sara, and you can’t stop me. Not because I want to, and not because you want me to; I’m going up there because Charlie asked me not to pull out. OK?”
“Heather, not sure that’s really the best reason ...”
But Tarne was no longer listening, for she had turned upon her heel and stormed off for her dormitory. Perhaps a good night’s sleep would help her, Kiel decided, even though she knew she was only lying to herself, and more importantly to Heather.
PRESENT CHAPTER
The present day was no place for an honest, law-abiding citizen to live, not in the dark times presented by the Vicious Circle and their evil. The Circle had been underground for many years, working their way slowly into society through its very internal structure. They planned that one day their operatives would have acquired key positions within the government that they might bring all of England to its knees. Perhaps the Vicious Circle would have succeeded, in fact, if not for the actions of four brave individuals who would constantly hurl themselves bodily into the path of danger, that they might protect the country they had so come to love and call their own.
Thus when the Circle’s existence had been revealed, it had been these four who had risen to the challenge of defeating them at every turn. The world was forever changed by their presence.
*
“I said eyes down!”
The bank robbery had seemed a good idea at the time, although the safe was on a timer lock, and there was no way in until the clock allowed them access. The hostages had been well-behaved for the first half hour, although as time stretched on, they were becoming distraught, and the thieves themselves were growing extremely nervous. There were six balaclava-wearing men, all wielding guns, although their two leaders were not masked, for their identities were publically known. They were criminals who broadcast their crimes for the sheer infamy of it, and they were dangerous individuals indeed.
“Where the hell is he?” Gunman said in growing agitation. “He said he’d be here.”
“He said he’d be here, so he’ll be here. Just relax,” his partner said.
“I am relaxed, just keep your eyes down.”
His partner shook her head slowly. “Honestly, Dwayne, shouting at the hostages isn’t going to make him get here any sooner.”
“I told you not to call me that, honey. My name’s Gunman, it’s what the papers know me as.”
It was a simple fact that the newspapers revelled in inventing the name for the newest hero or villain in town. It became a competition between them, and many believed they attempted to trademark the names, intending to cash in on the royalties at a later date. Gunman didn’t know about that. All he knew was that the man he had phoned over half an hour ago was late.
“You were named by a tabloid, Dwayne,” his partner said.
“Yeah, like Firearm’s that much better.”
“At least I was named by a broadsheet,” she laughed. “Besides, my name makes sense.” It was true. While Gunman’s only claim to fame was that he was a man who wielded a gun whilst wearing a cowboy hat and spurs, Firearm’s entire left arm was one giant flame-thrower, connected by tubes to a backpack. It seeme
d to a casual eye that her arm was itself the weapon, although in truth it was just a hefty cannon which fit snugly upon the arm.
Once they realised the safe was on a timer, Gunman had phoned the explosives specialist known as C4, who had agreed to blow the safe for them.
“I can’t believe he’s this late,” Gunman complained bitterly. “Doesn’t he know the Legion’s out there somewhere, just waiting for things like this to happen?”
“You do it so you can tangle with the Legion, Dwayne, and don’t tell me you don’t.”
“I do it for the money.”
“Then why is it that we never seem to get away with any of it?”
Gunman did not reply, for he was relieved to see a dark van pull up outside and a strange man emerge. C4 was tall and thin, wearing no shirt but a crisscross of fuses and wires, attached to which were all manner of explosive charges and devices. He grinned as he entered the bank, showing a row of black teeth.
“Sorry I’m late, traffic was murder,” he said in a thick German accent.
“Never mind that,” Gunman said, “just get to the safe.”
C4 moved to the back room and began to work, whilst Gunman and Firearm kept the hoods company with the hostages. Thus far no one had noticed the robbery taking place, although they all knew it was only a matter of time before that changed.
“Oh no,” Firearm said with a groan. “Someone’s taking an interest in C4’s van out there.”
“Trust a villain to illegally park,” The voice had not come from any of the criminals (indeed the generic goons with hoods generally weren’t allowed to speak anyway) but instead emanated from the rear of the bank. Gunman and Firearm spun about to find themselves face-to-face with a towering individual clad in tight-fitting red material and a cape flowing behind him despite there being no wind. He stood with his hands upon his hips, striking the most heroic of poses possible, and grinned at his enemies. “I’ve come to make a withdrawal from the Bank of Evildoers.”