The Rift
The Mission (#1)
"Have you double-checked the dexterousity suits?"
"Of course. Everything seems to be working properly, but as you know, that isn't saying much."
Calvin and Mike were walking along the weeds in front of camp, observing the flock of lost souls that had recently become the cavalry. In their old lives, they had mostly been simple people --farmers, merchants, electrical workers -- and they still weren't entirely familiar with all of the equipment that Microphone Mike, his techie sub-group, and the researchers had provided.
Here and there, confused men with clay-smeared faces and dirt-caked boots were struggling to load their weapons. Not all of the guns and blades were modern, but most were. Calvin knew that the order to whom he gave his services -- The Rock Bottom Rebels -- had been damned lucky to recruit as many scientist as it had, though. It was largely due to the efforts of the mathematicians and engineers that they had been able to complete the first nine raids.
"Have some of your men bring them out of the cave," said Calvin. "We've got less than two hours until we march north."
Mike nodded and went off to scrounge up some help.
The wind, which had been cold earlier, was now nothing short of icy, and a drizzle of rain had been falling off and on for a while now. Calvin was ready to get moving as it was, but he would wait. It was usually best to stick to the plan. Besides, he wanted to speak to them -- every man he led out there -- before they entered the war zone. It wasn't fair that they had to fight and maybe give their lives; it wasn't fair that they had to try and clean up a mess they didn't make with their bare hands. Calvin couldn't change that, but he would offer them whatever comfort he could give.
Mike and few of the other scientists came back up the hill twenty minutes later, carrying large wooden crates in groups of four or five. They plopped them down one-by-one in front of cluster of tents and snipped the wires holding the top. Calvin walked over and peered inside.
There were was what looked like a mess of tangled wire and metal plates, cramped inside the wooden cube to the point where it was almost bursting out. All silver. A mix engineers and programmers began to dig, bringing out small heaps of the linked metal and laying them on the ground. When the heaps were flattened out they looked like uniforms made out of spiderweb.
The dextrousity suits worked by sending a light electric current directly into the muscle tissue of the people wearing them, causing it to strech past its normal resting position. Hence, the people wearing the suits were more flexible. Having them wasn't a great advantage, but it was an advantage, all the same.
"Alright everyone, we've got the suits out!" Calvin called over to his comrades at the tents. "I need you to come over here, put one on, and then walk over to the bonfire."
About fifty grumpy men -- the "good guys", the "warriors of light" -- sluggishly walked over to the crates, while Calvin went to the fire pit.
A pile pile of smouldering sticks and branches were in the giant ring of ash-blackened stones. Calvin took a seat on one of the log benches and laid his own dextrousity suit across his lap. It wasn't easy, giving a speech before an attack.
Not at all.
Some of it was just pre-battle nerves, but mostly the problem was guilt. Calvin had lost ten guys so far in the raids; one of them had been in his main unit for two years. Every time he talked, he felt like like a phony. Sure they had joined his cause of their own free will, but really, how many of them expected to die?
He undressed and put on the suit, straping the plates over his shoulders, and tightening the cuffs around his boney wrists and ankles. When his skin was covered in the wire, he put his gray cloak back overtop of himself so that the dextousity suit was invisible. He looked just like an assassin from one of The Great History Books.
I am an assassin, now, he thought. It's still hard to believe, but that's officially what I am.
A giant of a warrior in a forest green cloak bumbled over to the bonfire pit and sat an a log seat opposite from Calvin. Calvin had seen him around before, but hadn't yet talked to him directly. They were seated too far away for there to be good conversation between them, but still close enough for the silence to be slightly akward. Calvin tried to appear as though he was concentrating on the burnt-out fire, while he felt the giant's beatle-black eyes wandering across him.
"You ready to take out 'nother one?" he asked.
Calvin met his gaze. The big man was concentrating on him, scratching his his black beard with a muscular arm.
"No," he said. "I'm as close as I'll be, though. How about you?"
The giant looked away and shook his head a little.
"Same,"
A minute later a small man with blond hair showed up and sat on yet another log; the one to Calvin's left. After that, the rest of the soldiers began coming in packs of four and five.
Calvin looked around, and then peered over by the creates to make sure there weren't any guys still over there. It looked ike everyone was ready. Calvin stood up from his log and backed over to an open space, where he could be seen clearly by everybody. The conversation of the soldiers, which was enthusiastic and laced with deep nervousness, began to die off.
He turned to face his soldiers -- his men, his boys -- and felt a knot tighten down in his stomach, as he always did at this moment. The wind, which had settled down only slightly, was suddenly the only audible sound in the camp.
About fifty soldiers faced this man; he was their leader, an almost legenday creature, and they now remembered it. Calvin faced them back, trying to take in the faces of all the men (and the lone woman -- she was somwhere in the crowd) who would be fighting for him. With his dark figure silloutted against the gray sky, he began to speak.
"I think you know what I'm asking of you, tonight." he began. "But for those of you who don't, I'd like to first make it clear -- I'm asking you to die for me."
A lot of blank and puzzled faces stared back at him, but that was alright. He had caught their attention.
"This is the tenth raid, and so far we've lost ten men. That means, statistically, that one of you here probably isn't going to make it back... If you're coming, I just want you to know what's at stake.
He allowed a couple seconds for them to take in his words.
"Is everyone here completey sure that they're going to do this? If any of you have any doubts, then you need to say so now.
He looked to his left, and the faces he looked upon held only resolve. Then he looked to his right, and saw much of the same. His eyes searched until they found Angela among the men -- her tanned face partially hidden beneath a waterfall of raven hair. Her own brown eyes held just as much determination as the eyes of the other soldiers. Calvin believed without a doubt that he would be sent to some kind of purgatory for putting such a woman in the terrible danger that he had, but at least there was the cold comfort that she was willing to fight.
"Alright guys," said Calvin. "Then let's talk about the mission. As you know, we're going to attack Quelnine's biggest distibution building -- the biggest one on Dulven, in any case. Our goal is to sneak in there, plant the explosives around the building's main support structures, and then get the hell out.
"You all know this."
A couple heads nodded, indicating that, yes, they knew this.
"But we know this place is more heavily guarded than any of the places we've attacked before -- the factories, the wharehouses, and even the base we attacked two weeks ago, will be small game compared with this job. We've got to be at our best! Understood?"
A morose chorus of Yes!'s and Aye!'s and Understood!'s greeted his ears.
"Now, I know people have said that the Quelnine cannot be beaten; that even after The War, their influence is too great. Tonight, my fellow soldiers, we will show those people what we already know! Tonight, regardless of whether we suceed or fail, we will show the world that Queline can be beaten!
The crowd gained an stong aura of enthusiasm at these last words. Here there were people shouting "Hell yeah!" and there there were people shouting "Fuck yeah!" -- Calvin found it almost impossible not to feel a bit more encouraged.
"As long as we work at our best, and as long as we keep our eyes open, we will show the world that our planet still has a fighting chance! For too long Quelnine has polluted the media, and for too long our lands have been corroded with nothing but lies and bullshit!"
Calvin swiped a hand quickly through his hair.
"My comrades," he said. "there are many who still support the Quelnine, but even among those of us who know their true face, I see doubt. I will not lie to you -- you are right to feel doubt. The odds hold strong against succss... But is there not also hope?"
"I remember a time, not so long ago, when my two greatest wishes were to be a good father and be a good husband."
"I remember a time, not so long ago, when my only worry was that the winter frost would kill my tomato plants."
"I remember a time, not so long ago, when it seemed like anything was possible!"
"My friends, I remember a time not so long ago, when anything was possible."
His eyes flared into their faces, and their faces held his form. They remembered now, too.
"It is time again, to stand. Whether or not we make it is irrelevant. We stand, not only to overcome this evil which has been in our lives for so long now, but also to represent those things that we have lost. We stand, not only to harm those who have done great wrong against life, but also to give hope to those who seek it."
"Tonight, when you're out there on the battlefield, I urge you to remember why you joined The Rock Bottom Rebels. Remember why you chose to fight, and make sure you do all you can."
"Thank-you."
"Have you double-checked the dexterousity suits?"
"Of course. Everything seems to be working properly, but as you know, that isn't saying much."
Calvin and Mike were walking along the weeds in front of camp, observing the flock of lost souls that had recently become the cavalry. In their old lives, they had mostly been simple people --farmers, merchants, electrical workers -- and they still weren't entirely familiar with all of the equipment that Microphone Mike, his techie sub-group, and the researchers had provided.
Here and there, confused men with clay-smeared faces and dirt-caked boots were struggling to load their weapons. Not all of the guns and blades were modern, but most were. Calvin knew that the order to whom he gave his services -- The Rock Bottom Rebels -- had been damned lucky to recruit as many scientist as it had, though. It was largely due to the efforts of the mathematicians and engineers that they had been able to complete the first nine raids.
"Have some of your men bring them out of the cave," said Calvin. "We've got less than two hours until we march north."
Mike nodded and went off to scrounge up some help.
The wind, which had been cold earlier, was now nothing short of icy, and a drizzle of rain had been falling off and on for a while now. Calvin was ready to get moving as it was, but he would wait. It was usually best to stick to the plan. Besides, he wanted to speak to them -- every man he led out there -- before they entered the war zone. It wasn't fair that they had to fight and maybe give their lives; it wasn't fair that they had to try and clean up a mess they didn't make with their bare hands. Calvin couldn't change that, but he would offer them whatever comfort he could give.
Mike and few of the other scientists came back up the hill twenty minutes later, carrying large wooden crates in groups of four or five. They plopped them down one-by-one in front of cluster of tents and snipped the wires holding the top. Calvin walked over and peered inside.
There were was what looked like a mess of tangled wire and metal plates, cramped inside the wooden cube to the point where it was almost bursting out. All silver. A mix engineers and programmers began to dig, bringing out small heaps of the linked metal and laying them on the ground. When the heaps were flattened out they looked like uniforms made out of spiderweb.
The dextrousity suits worked by sending a light electric current directly into the muscle tissue of the people wearing them, causing it to strech past its normal resting position. Hence, the people wearing the suits were more flexible. Having them wasn't a great advantage, but it was an advantage, all the same.
"Alright everyone, we've got the suits out!" Calvin called over to his comrades at the tents. "I need you to come over here, put one on, and then walk over to the bonfire."
About fifty grumpy men -- the "good guys", the "warriors of light" -- sluggishly walked over to the crates, while Calvin went to the fire pit.
A pile pile of smouldering sticks and branches were in the giant ring of ash-blackened stones. Calvin took a seat on one of the log benches and laid his own dextrousity suit across his lap. It wasn't easy, giving a speech before an attack.
Not at all.
Some of it was just pre-battle nerves, but mostly the problem was guilt. Calvin had lost ten guys so far in the raids; one of them had been in his main unit for two years. Every time he talked, he felt like like a phony. Sure they had joined his cause of their own free will, but really, how many of them expected to die?
He undressed and put on the suit, straping the plates over his shoulders, and tightening the cuffs around his boney wrists and ankles. When his skin was covered in the wire, he put his gray cloak back overtop of himself so that the dextousity suit was invisible. He looked just like an assassin from one of The Great History Books.
I am an assassin, now, he thought. It's still hard to believe, but that's officially what I am.
A giant of a warrior in a forest green cloak bumbled over to the bonfire pit and sat an a log seat opposite from Calvin. Calvin had seen him around before, but hadn't yet talked to him directly. They were seated too far away for there to be good conversation between them, but still close enough for the silence to be slightly akward. Calvin tried to appear as though he was concentrating on the burnt-out fire, while he felt the giant's beatle-black eyes wandering across him.
"You ready to take out 'nother one?" he asked.
Calvin met his gaze. The big man was concentrating on him, scratching his his black beard with a muscular arm.
"No," he said. "I'm as close as I'll be, though. How about you?"
The giant looked away and shook his head a little.
"Same,"
A minute later a small man with blond hair showed up and sat on yet another log; the one to Calvin's left. After that, the rest of the soldiers began coming in packs of four and five.
Calvin looked around, and then peered over by the creates to make sure there weren't any guys still over there. It looked ike everyone was ready. Calvin stood up from his log and backed over to an open space, where he could be seen clearly by everybody. The conversation of the soldiers, which was enthusiastic and laced with deep nervousness, began to die off.
He turned to face his soldiers -- his men, his boys -- and felt a knot tighten down in his stomach, as he always did at this moment. The wind, which had settled down only slightly, was suddenly the only audible sound in the camp.
About fifty soldiers faced this man; he was their leader, an almost legenday creature, and they now remembered it. Calvin faced them back, trying to take in the faces of all the men (and the lone woman -- she was somwhere in the crowd) who would be fighting for him. With his dark figure silloutted against the gray sky, he began to speak.
"I think you know what I'm asking of you, tonight." he began. "But for those of you who don't, I'd like to first make it clear -- I'm asking you to die for me."
A lot of blank and puzzled faces stared back at him, but that was alright. He had caught their attention.
"This is the tenth raid, and so far we've lost ten men. That means, statistically, that one of you here probably isn't going to make it back... If you're coming, I just want you to know what's at stake.
He allowed a couple seconds for them to take in his words.
"Is everyone here completey sure that they're going to do this? If any of you have any doubts, then you need to say so now.
He looked to his left, and the faces he looked upon held only resolve. Then he looked to his right, and saw much of the same. His eyes searched until they found Angela among the men -- her tanned face partially hidden beneath a waterfall of raven hair. Her own brown eyes held just as much determination as the eyes of the other soldiers. Calvin believed without a doubt that he would be sent to some kind of purgatory for putting such a woman in the terrible danger that he had, but at least there was the cold comfort that she was willing to fight.
"Alright guys," said Calvin. "Then let's talk about the mission. As you know, we're going to attack Quelnine's biggest distibution building -- the biggest one on Dulven, in any case. Our goal is to sneak in there, plant the explosives around the building's main support structures, and then get the hell out.
"You all know this."
A couple heads nodded, indicating that, yes, they knew this.
"But we know this place is more heavily guarded than any of the places we've attacked before -- the factories, the wharehouses, and even the base we attacked two weeks ago, will be small game compared with this job. We've got to be at our best! Understood?"
A morose chorus of Yes!'s and Aye!'s and Understood!'s greeted his ears.
"Now, I know people have said that the Quelnine cannot be beaten; that even after The War, their influence is too great. Tonight, my fellow soldiers, we will show those people what we already know! Tonight, regardless of whether we suceed or fail, we will show the world that Queline can be beaten!
The crowd gained an stong aura of enthusiasm at these last words. Here there were people shouting "Hell yeah!" and there there were people shouting "Fuck yeah!" -- Calvin found it almost impossible not to feel a bit more encouraged.
"As long as we work at our best, and as long as we keep our eyes open, we will show the world that our planet still has a fighting chance! For too long Quelnine has polluted the media, and for too long our lands have been corroded with nothing but lies and bullshit!"
Calvin swiped a hand quickly through his hair.
"My comrades," he said. "there are many who still support the Quelnine, but even among those of us who know their true face, I see doubt. I will not lie to you -- you are right to feel doubt. The odds hold strong against succss... But is there not also hope?"
"I remember a time, not so long ago, when my two greatest wishes were to be a good father and be a good husband."
"I remember a time, not so long ago, when my only worry was that the winter frost would kill my tomato plants."
"I remember a time, not so long ago, when it seemed like anything was possible!"
"My friends, I remember a time not so long ago, when anything was possible."
His eyes flared into their faces, and their faces held his form. They remembered now, too.
"It is time again, to stand. Whether or not we make it is irrelevant. We stand, not only to overcome this evil which has been in our lives for so long now, but also to represent those things that we have lost. We stand, not only to harm those who have done great wrong against life, but also to give hope to those who seek it."
"Tonight, when you're out there on the battlefield, I urge you to remember why you joined The Rock Bottom Rebels. Remember why you chose to fight, and make sure you do all you can."
"Thank-you."