©2005 mike z.
This story should not be reposted outside the EMCSA without permission. If you steal this work, karma will prevail, and you will find many rusty nails in your future.
This is a long story, so it has been cut into four parts to break it up, with each interval encompassing a mood and a phase in the progression of the story’s arc.
The Tigerhawk flies tilted forward, several hundred feet above the tops of buildings, which are thousands of feet tall. The abandoned monuments serve as reminders of the city’s former glory. The chopping of the Tigerhawk’s rotor is reflected back at me by the stone, glass and steel faces of those buildings. The echoing effect enhances the ghostly experience, reminding me that these buildings are indeed only echoes.
Echoes of a world that is far beyond its peak.
The St. Peter’s district is almost devoid of life, abandoned, and it gives off an unearthly shine during the daylight hours. Due to the sparkling reflections in the glass walls and glittering sands of the nearby desert, St. Peter’s has come to be nicknamed The Shining Desertlands.
Beautiful, but dead.
I hear the pilot speaking to the landing zone as Swan and I sit near the edge of the helicopter’s open cabin door, watching the buildings and rooftops flowing under us like water under a bridge. It was a large troop transport but my sister and I had the whole space to ourselves.
“Elle-zed this is delta-echo-niner-charlie-tango requesting handshake, over.”
“This is Elle-zed. Transmit verification.”
“Roger, that. Sending now.”
We hover for a moment. The chopping of the helicopter’s engine is replicated by the acoustics of my dead surroundings. I wonder if I am not in some kind of cave, dark and lonely even when the sun shines bright upon it. The city has an ominous abandonment about it, the way nothing stirs except the echoes of the engine. Our guts sink and pull on themselves as the Tigerhawk bucks in the winds before settling into a gentle current on which to hover.
We wait. There is always waiting. Then…
“Handshake confirmed. Permission granted for a five second delivery.”
“Roger that. Coming in.” confirms the pilot with a military tone in his voice. He turns around in his chair to look at us. “Two minutes, ladies.”
Swan and I watch the tops of the buildings coming closer as we descend, until finally our transport is swallowed within an abyss between buildings of steel and glass. The helicopter flies high above the path of one of the main boulevards, and I can see down other endless avenues at the end of each city block. After some time the buildings begin to thin out and show me the desert beyond the ends of those streets. The sands glow and the air ripples in the heat of the sun.
The buildings at the edge of the district are partly overtaken by a carpet of sand, the barren expanses of the hot desert having been stretched into the streets by the wind. Dunes three hundred feet tall rise like the see to swallow the bases of many of the structures. There is one building, it’s lower floors half swallowed by the tide of grit, with a white pad on its roof. It stands at the edge of the district and is called the Paradigm Building.
The Tigerhawk turns and tilts, begins to circle and drop, the pilot skilfully spiralling down to the top of that building not too far below. Bright lights obscured by daylight mark an ex on the landing pad, though the bulbs aren’t visible with the sun so bright. We come in rapidly, brace our bottoms as the helicopter bounces on landing, and quickly hop out.
The helicopter leaves immediately, never coming to a stop, and takes off before its five seconds of permission are spent. It leaves us here, Swan and I, together in the Shining Desertlands.
Show time.
The chop-chop-chopping of the academy helicopter fades as it lifts off into the sky. Swan and stand on the roof of the old Paradigm Building, a three hundred floor steel titan. From the lip of the roof we can see the limitless desert glowing red-brown in the light of a burning sentinel ninety-three million kilometres away.
The wind on the roof whips at my hair and reminds me of the beaches of home.
The air is hot but we are cool enough in our suits. I look at Swan balanced at the edge of the roof, looking over the side of the building at the distant streets below. She looks my way and holds out her hand. I touch hers with my own, our gloved hands sliding together on near frictionless silver-steel. Our grip is still strong on each other.
“Hold position.” crackles a deep voice over the comm. channel. We both stay low and listen to our suits for more updates. Our contact back at the academy is putting together our mission now; we don’t know what it is yet.
I sit slightly behind Swan, looking out over the desert from our perch on a looming cliff of abandoned high-rises. They are tombstones, arranged in rows along paths of broken streets, marking the glory of a civilization now strangled by economic recession and emigration. The sky is completely clear; the helicopter a faint echo fading into the endless blue. The sun reflects off the display terminal that is bolted to the roof for our use. A concealed elevator marks the gate from our secure landing zone to the rest of the world.
We wait. The sand blows like streams and rivers across the barren landscape in the distance. I watch them turning and bending in ways as graceful as the way Swan’s suit conforms to her natural curves. Her developed curves of femininity are constructed with sculpted contours and rounded bulges that form a sleek and attractive body for the both of us.
“The satellite is moving over head now.” crackles the radio. All Hero files are stored on satellites, out of reach of our enemies, for they are too precious to keep elsewhere.
We wait, still. I don’t like the waiting because the anticipation is nerve-racking. The shining sand of the desert reflects comm. signals, scrambling and corrupting what we can hear through our suits. The buildings, too, obscure all transmissions, and it’s necessary to land on the roof for good reception. Once we are down there, in the streets, we will only have each other. We will have to be our own guides.
“Right, got it.” crackles the man in our ears. The terminal screen bursts to life. Our mission briefing is displayed in green on black background.
[SIGNAL ACQIURED}
Scanning…confirming bio-signatures…
A-Code: fg7822RrRt56888
Agents Recognized: Downloading…
Mission Location: St. Peter’s District; Abandoned Commercial Zone, Shining Desertlands.
Agents Employed: Scouts, 3rd Phalanx. Codenames classified; confirmed through bio-scan.
Target: Chimaera (Bio-weapon Prototype)
Primary objective is the location and infiltration of Target’s base of residence. Collected data are to be stored in the provided data chips imbedded into your suit material.
Analyse and appraise Target powers and capabilities so that a strike force can be tailored to take advantage of potential weaknesses.
After recon, return to Landing zone and transmit to Bellerophon satellite.
Should recon reveal that Target’s base of residence is vulnerable to attack, call for reinforcements.
Execute Secondary Objective if applicable.
Secondary Objective is the apprehension and capture of the Target, if possible. Termination of Target is acceptable, but not desired.
Target History
Chimaera (maiden name unknown) was created at Paradigm Weapons Technologies 3.7 years ago. She escaped two weeks before the project was cancelled when Paradigm shut down and became defunct 2.25 years ago in 2151. It is unclear what kind of mistreatment she received in the labs, but we know that she is beyond reason. Do not attempt to engage in conversation or physical combat unsupported.
Since her escape Chimaera has demonstrated consistently anti-social behaviours. Criminal record is as follows; confirmed murders 67; kidnappings 12; 13 counts of arson; 267 counts of wilful destruction of property; 17 counts of mass terrorism; 1 count of grand theft auto.
Exercise extreme caution and employ evasive tactics.
Good Luck.
[END SIGNAL]
And so our waiting passed…
“What, only one car?” Swan joked. I laughed at that, almost forgetting to breath, the fits were so strong. The merriment helped lift the tension and break the knot in my gut. I feel that I didn’t laugh so much because it was funny, but because I needed the break, and because sisterly love comes out even in the most serious of situations.
Swan and I stand facing each other and put our foreheads together in a sisterly meditation that we used to strengthen our courage. I think that we share our most intimate of feelings before setting out into the silent city. The work of a scout is dangerous; we must defend ourselves by not getting caught, rather than fight through with strength. We are quick, we are agile and persistent in infiltration, and we are a team.
We are twin sisters. I love her. That’s what drives me forward, each time I go out and walk among the tombstones of the silent city.
The helicopter disappears. We take deep breaths together, both recalling the gravity of the myths that surround Chimaera and her behaviours. They say she can walk among your dreams. They say she can see through you as the Shadow Man can cut through the pitch of the moonless night with his eyes. I wonder if the Shadow Man truly exists. Perhaps he doesn’t, though I still fear him all the same. If he does, I will find out today.
We stand with our heads together, as we always do before we immerse ourselves in the world of crime and shadows, and for now I don’t mind the waiting. The sun shines down on our silver-steel suits, giving our bodies a sparkling glow to match the sand that blows in the distance. The deep-blue sky swallows the Hero helicopter that is our last true connection to the rest of the world. The satellite passes on out of range and the terminal screen flickers and dies.
The streets howl with silence.
“Do you have any idea what to expect?” I ask her.
“Not a clue. Only rumours.”
I sigh. Such is the life of a scout. I never seem to know the facts, as I’m the one who is expected to get them in the first place. The scenery then is ever changing. Some solid ground would be nice, but I make do with Swan. We make do with each other.
We enter the Hero gate, take the elevator down, and then hop to it.