by Unknown
Perhaps she was insane.
Then her eyes fel on the branch, stil holding the two rabbits and a pouch of uncured marmot hide. “I’m not crazy,” she told herself. “He was real.”
She sat down suddenly and hugged her knees, fighting a strange urge to cry. Taking a deep breath she steadied herself. I’m stronger than that, she thought. Getting up again, she retrieved the pouch containing the stil burning coals and set about making a new camp.
Chapter 8
Matthew found himself in darkness once more, but it was a comforting darkness. His magesight once again showed him the terrain for a great distance in every direction, and he felt the warm presence of aythar everywhere. It was something he had never noticed before, until he had experienced its absence. It was like standing in the sunshine after emerging from a cold shadow.
Even so, he found himself faling. He had pushed too far, and now his legs had betrayed him. Crumpling to the ground he maintained only
enough presence of mind to manage his fal and avoid striking his head when he reached the hard stone floor. With a sigh of relief, he drew a deep breath, and then he lost consciousness.
When he awoke, it was sometime later, though how much later he had no way of knowing. His cheek lay against the cold ground, and his body
felt half frozen as he sat up and his nerves began to come back to life. With a thought and a word he heated the air around him, creating a warm envelope to insulate himself.
Ahhh…, he sighed internaly. He was definitely home . Wel, not home exactly, but close enough. Winding his way through the cave he walked out into the night, greeted by a sky ful of familiar stars. His hand found his pouch, and he opened it, reaching in to discover it once again connected to the pocket dimension that held his tools. Matthew smiled.
His strength was largely back. He had probably slept for quite a few hours. Mentaly he reviewed what he needed to do before returning.
Checking in with his mother and explaining the situation should probably be first on the list, but that option held no appeal. He discarded the idea quickly.
Given the complete absence of aythar in the other world he should probably take something that held a significant store of aythar for use if he exhausted himself again. Like a dragon, he thought ruefuly. Leaving Desacus behind was a stupid thing to do. He would have to make finding Desacus a priority when he returned.
In the meantime, he had something in his pouch that should serve the same purpose. Exploring the interior of the pouch, he puled out another bag. This one was a bit larger than the size of a fist, and it held a colection of some twenty-odd iron spheres. Each was charged with as much aythar as it could hold and the enchantment on them was designed to release that power instantly when the user supplied the proper command word with the correct intention.
They were a copy of his father’s iron bombs and one of the first enchantments he had ever done on his own in his early teens. It had been a project he worked on in secret at the time. No parent wanted to discover their child was making explosives. Since then he had grown capable of much greater enchantments with far more subtlety and usefulness, but these stil held a special place in his heart.
He had only ever used a few of them, primarily to test them out. The rest he had stored and never felt a need to use. They would be perfect for what he needed now.
Next, he removed a large woolen blanket and then opened it on the ground. He placed the bag of iron spheres in the middle and then began
removing other things from the pocket dimension. Slowly a pile of useful things built up; his silver stylus, used for crafting delicate enchantments; a smal wooden box containing his shield stones; a rope; a heavy duty padded bedrol; an enchanted mail hauberk and leggings; an empty waterskin ; a large iron pot with a variety of utensils—they were al added to the colection on the blanket.
He also added a leather case containing a set of needles, thread, and scissors. A long strip of white cloth was laid next to it. He would need that to create a new storage pouch when he went back. Last, but not least, he took out his enchanted staff and lay it across the top of the now large pile.
He felt a sense of pride looking at it, the smooth ash wood was chased with silver runes from tip to crown. He had felt woefuly unprepared in the other world when he had discovered he no longer had access to it.
Studying his pile, Matthew regretted that he only had one bedrol. That might give Karen the wrong idea, but he was certain she would
understand once he explained that she could use it. With a proper supply of aythar cold air wouldn’t be a problem for him anyway, plus there was stil the blanket itself.
He removed the armor and shrugged into the padded gambeson before slipping the hauberk over his shoulders. Then he tugged the mail
trousers up and buckled them into place before putting his sword belt back on over the entire outfit. The mail coif went on last, and he was grateful that the armor was enchanted to reduce its weight. Normal mail was entirely too heavy for his taste.
Of course, it was nowhere near as protective as the armor he had made for Gram. He often considered making a set for himself like that, but he never seemed to have the time.
A rounded helm went over the coif to complete his arming. He didn’t realy feel the need to wear al of it, but it reduced the size of the pile on his blanket. Picking up the corners of said blanket, he gathered it into a massive bag before hefting it and tossing it over one shoulder. The iron pot let out a muffled clang as one of the other items banged into it. With his staff in his other hand he focused his perceptions once more and shifted back to the place between, and searching for the woman he had left behind in another world.
***
Karen built a large fire and spent the afternoon gathering fresh grass and ferns to bed down on that night. Having hours for the task meant she was able to assemble a much better pile of bedding than they had had the night before. She quickly regretted making the fire so large, however, for it consumed fuel at a ravenous pace. It wasn’t long before she exhausted the nearby supplies of easily liberated deadwood, and she was forced to range farther afield to find more. But she had nothing but time, so she spent her energies building up a large pile of sticks, hopefuly enough to last through the night.
That accomplished, she attempted to skin the rabbits so she could roast them. It turned out to be easier said than done. Her swiss army knife was not the ideal tool for the job. It was much duler than the knife Matthew had used the day before, and she wished he had left it with her. There
was also the matter of her being inexperienced at the task.
The mangled carcass that was left after she finished removing the skin looked like it had been the victim of a particularly twisted torturer. She decided against doing the second rabbit. “If he comes back and he’s hungry, he can skin the other one himself.”
Roasting the badly maimed creature didn’t go wel, either. She had put too much fresh wood on the fire, and the flames leapt too high, licking directly at the flesh, burning it in places and cooking the exterior entirely too quickly. The first time she removed it to check the doneness she found the interior meat was stil raw.
She put it back over the fire and thoroughly burned it before she had it cooked to her satisfaction. Karen was forced to cut away the blackened exterior to get to the edible portions within.
Eating as much as she could, she disposed of the rest of her meal. She didn’t want Matthew to see the results of her culinary enterprise when he returned. “It’s realy your fault anyway,” she groused, talking to the air, “if you had stuck around, I could have used my hat to stew it, but now that you’ve left, it no longer holds water.”
She had found that out the hard way. The water had drained out of her booney almost as quickly as she could scoop it up from the river. Her sodden headgear sat on a stick near the fire now, drying out.
How had he done that? Was he realy a wizard? He had claimed he used magic, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe it
. Whatever power he used had some perfectly ordinary explanation, she was sure of that. Magic simply wasn’t real.
But how did he vanish the way he did? she wondered.
A distant whine slowly built, and it took a moment before her brain registered the sound. Drones? Maybe a pert? She grew excited. Could they have started a search for her? Her father knew she had gone hiking, but he might have sounded the alarm when she failed to check in.
Night had just falen, so she would be even more difficult to spot, and the smoke from her fire would also be less visible. She quickly moved to throw more wood on it, trying to build it up. If the drones above were search and rescue, they would presumably have infrared capabilities. The fire would be a beacon even if the trees obscured it somewhat.
Sure enough, within a quarter of an hour a dark shape appeared directly overhead, hovering in place. Strangely it was unlit, and the noise from the fans was almost non-existent, but she could make out its position above as it blotted out the stars behind it. Karen waved her arms rapidly, shouting, “I’m here!”
A feeling of relief washed over her, she was saved.
***
A red light and a soft beep alerted SDC Donald Aiseman that something required his attention. With a thought he opened the channel and
found himself face to face with the First Cybernetic Division Commander, Roald Leighton.
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, we have located a campsite within the search region. A young woman is present, and she matches the description of a person reported
missing two days ago,” reported Commander Leighton.
Donald nodded, “Another event was reported in that region earlier today, Commander, does her position correlate?”
The commander nodded, “It does sir, though the zone is stil only approximate. We haven’t found anyone else in the region.”
“Do you have a positive identification yet?”
“Yes sir.”
Another alert sounded, and the SDC opened it in a second channel. A file popped up containing the information regarding the young woman.
Assuming there hadn’t been a mistake the woman’s name was Karen Miler, only daughter of Gary and Tanya Miler. Something stirred in
Donald’s memory.
Tanya Miller, why does that sound familiar?
A split second search and he had the answer, she was a former director of the UN Defense Research Institute. Glancing back at Karen’s file he saw a red link highlighted under her name, “classified information”. It was a top-level clearance item and probably hadn’t even been visible to Commander Leighton.
“Sir?” asked the Commander, “How should we proceed?”
“I’l need your patience Commander Leighton, there’s something I need to review,” responded the SDC. Donald opened the link.
A code name appeared, ‘Project Blue-Star’. It was folowed by a short warning, ‘Level Black clearance only, requests for information or
reporting of new updates must be processed by UN President.’
Donald’s brows rose, and he whistled slowly. It was the first time he had encountered a project classified above his security level. He turned back to the commander, “I’l need more time, Commander. Maintain position and keep the target in sight. I wil get back to you in a few minutes.”
He closed the link.
Composing himself, he sent a request for a direct line to his superior. It was denied, but an additional prompt requesting the nature of his request appeared. “Information regarding Project Blue-Star,” he intoned.
The world vanished, replaced by a featureless void. Seconds passed, and then a chair appeared. Seated in it was his boss, President Angela Kruger.
“I hope I’m not imposing on your time, Madame President,” said the SDC in a deferential tone.
“I’m in the middle of an address to the Council, Mr. Aiseman,” she replied.
He dipped his head, “My apologies, if you would prefer to defer this until…”
“No need, Mr. Aiseman. My IA replaced me the moment your alert information came through. The Council is not even aware that it is no
longer me speaking.”
IA stood for ‘inteligent agent’. The UN President had delegated her speech to an artificial substitute, one perfect enough to deceive those listening. Donald found himself holding his breath. What have I gotten myself into?
“You are aware of the situation, Madame President. Drone surveilance has located Karen Miler in the region of inquiry. Her file flagged me that you should be notified,” he said, neatly summarizing the little he knew.
President Kruger’s eyes shifted sideways momentarily as she reviewed a file he couldn’t see. Thirty seconds later she responded, “You wil
begin reporting al information regarding this incident to Tanya Miler, and you wil obey any directives she issues. Have the assets on site terminate the target immediately. Doctor Miler wil take charge of the body afterward.”
Obey any directives? Was she putting a retired civilian in charge of a military operation? “Begging your pardon, Madam President. Dr.
Miler is no longer even an active member of the government…”
The President cut him off, “No one retires from a level black project, Mr. Aiseman. My orders stand as given.”
The channel closed, and Donald found himself abruptly back in his chair in the command center. “Re-establish link to Commander Leighton,”
he said, verbalizing his thought.
Chapter 9
Karen continued waving at the near-silent drone, expecting it to give some response. A light perhaps, or even a sound, but it remained dark.
Minutes passed, a quarter hour, and stil nothing happened.
“What the hel is that thing doing? Is it broken?” she wondered aloud. A civil search and rescue drone should be equipped with al manner of lights, not to mention a loudspeaker.
More than half an hour had gone by when she thought she detected movement beyond the edge of the firelight. Staring into the dark, she
lamented the fact that the fire had spoiled her night vision, but eventualy she saw the shapes of human forms approaching. A smal noise alerted her to their presence behind her as wel. Turning she saw more figures; they were getting closer and coming from al directions. They encircled her at a range of no more than thirty or forty yards now. No one had spoken or caled out to her, though.
A shiver of fear pierced her heart. This wasn’t normal. These weren’t rescue searchers.
A log shifted on the campfire, and it flared, shedding a brighter light for a moment. Karen saw the light reflected from the matte-black of a painted metal carapace. A white number and the insignia of the UN Army caught her eye. The forms encircling her in the night were military cybernetic units, androids.
Karen held up her hands, trying to seem non-threatening, “I need your help. I’ve been lost in the mountains for several days.” She felt a tremor beginning to shake her body.
The air in front of her shimmered then blurred as a new figure appeared. Silver metal caught the firelight. Her eyes registered the sight with some confusion, and she thought at first it was another android, but then she saw Matthew’s face grinning at her.
“Helo,” he said in faintly accented English as he dropped a large bundle on the ground in front of himself.
If his clothing had been strange before, he had managed to take its weirdness to new levels. He was dressed now like some warrior or knight from the dark ages, silver rings covered him from head to toe. Is that chain mail? she wondered.
A burst of automatic rifle fire ripped through the quiet night air.
Karen tried to yel, but everything happened too quickly. She saw Matthew’s body jerking as the bulets slammed into his back, while
simultaneously something punched her in the shoulder, spinning her around and knocking her off her feet.
The silence that folowed the loud barks of gunfire was profound, and she turned her head to see Matthew lying on
the ground a few feet away.
A groan escaped his lips, and he began to sit up.
No! Don’t! she thought, but he rose before she could form the words to warn him.
The drone above suddenly lit up, bathing the camp site in briliant actinic light, and the soldier’s rifles began firing again, but this time Matthew remained upright, his head turning slowly as he scanned the area around them. Karen held herself flat, sensibly hugging the earth, but she could feel something hovering in the air around them. A wave of nausea passed through her, and then her strange perception vanished.
Matthew’s face was stern, as though he was deep in thought, while his hands rummaged through the bundle he had dropped on the ground.
Guns continued to bark as he searched. Eventualy he found what he was looking for, bringing out a smal wooden box. He opened the lid, and
muttering something, he flung the stones into the air.
To Karen’s astonishment they didn’t fal back down, instead they flew outward to surround the two of them and take up positions around them in the air. Matthew’s face relaxed, and then he got to his feet, using his staff to pul himself up. He stared down at her, a look of concern on his features and then he lifted his staff, leveling it horizontaly, as though he held a spear.
A dazzling beam of light sprang from the tip as he slowly turned, adjusting the height of his staff as he went to keep his targets lined up. The sound of weapons fire slowly tapered off as he turned, and when he had finished a complete circle, it stopped entirely. The beam winked out for a second, then he pointed the foot of his staff skyward and it sprang out again. The drone above them exploded, and flaming pieces began raining down some twenty feet away from their camp.
Karen tried to rise, but her left arm wasn’t working properly, and pain shot through her chest and shoulder when she moved. She realized then that she had been shot.