From darkside.buggeroff@buggeroff.sandwich.net Wed Jun 20 22:27:41 2001 Newsgroups: alt.barney.dinosaur.die.die.die Subject: Op: sUcK - The Crater, part II (Seg 2) From: "Nemesis the Feral (NYAR!)" Date: Wed, 20 Jun 2001 23:27:41 -0500 NOTE: Because of the narrow scope of this Operation, the project is closed to public participation. However, if you are a member of TRES Corps and interested in the possibility of joining the project, contact darkside@sandwich.net. This Operation is a work in progress. +-----------------+ | Operation: sUcK | +-----------------+ The Crater, part II Authors: Nemesis the Feral (NYAR!) Shadur t'Kharn ****** Bellingham Following afternoon (Day 1) ****** DarkSide sat on the hood of the Highlander in an empty lot, adjusting his sunglasses. It was an unusually sunny day for Seattle, and the light cut deeply into his poor nocturnal eyes. He glanced at his watch; Shadur should be arriving any time now. Almost on cue, a large, disembodied, and winged shadow swept over him, headed toward a small undeveloped grove of trees and brush to his right. Moments later, a human figure walked out, carrying a hefty stainless steel suitcase. "Nice threads," Shadur quipped, referring to DarkSide's charcoal grey suit. "Glad ye like it," said DarkSide, a smirk curling his lips. "Got ye one just like it." He shoved a briefcase towards Shadur. Shadur shot DarkSide a look that said, "Tired of living after only 400 years, sir?" and went through the contents of the case, flipping open the wallet he found inside. "NSA, eh? Where'd you get these?" "Crackerjack box. Get changed. We've got stuff t'do." A few moments later, Shadur returned, a look of death on his face. "Remind me to kill you for this later, sir." DarkSide just grinned at the man-dragon. "Aw, c'mon. It suits ye. Even if it is a cheap suit. I woulda gone fer Armani, but I didnae think that would be in-character." He slid off the hood of the Highlander and tucked the Glock in his hands into the holster beneath his jacket. "So what are we doing here?" Shadur asked, fidgeting with his tie. "Does it have something to with what looks like a meteor impact about two blocks from here?" "Aye," said DarkSide, sliding into the driver's seat of the Highlander. He tapped something on a small control pad, and the exterior of the vehicle shimmered, dissolving into a sickly brown Ford LTD. "Call it idle curiosity. Let's go, 'Bob'." Shadur climbed into the opposite seat and quirked an eyebrow. "'Bob'? You really are tired of living, aren't you?" ... By now, the place was swarming with soldiers. Most of the rescue folk had gone home now; they had no luck finding any survivors, and there simply wasn't enough debris to pick through that might conceal anyone. Whatever happened here either didn't hurt anyone, or was really thorough about its job. "State your business," demanded a young private, who by the looks of him wasn't much older than eighteen or nineteen, fresh out of BT, and nervous as hell. DarkSide flashed him his Crackerjack ID; Shadur followed suit. "Special Agents Lamb and Drake," he said with an unflawed American accent, not a trace of his Scottish brogue in the words. "NSA. I think our 'business' here is painfully obvious." He brushed past the private, who simply stared at them, bewildered. The two descended into the crater, sliding a bit on loosened bedrock. Shadur grimaced at the stench that had settled in the pit, and soon it became apparent that the stench wasn't the only thing that had settled; several sewer lines had been severed by the blast, and had been spilling their contents into the hole before they had been sealed off. "Lessee... looks like we might have a few NASA folk..." Shadur glanced about. "A duo of CIA spooks, any number of Feddies, at least one guy I'd say is Mossad... I think the fat one's the-agency-formerly-known-as-KGB, but I'm not completely sure." "What department?" came a voice from behind. Their heads swivelled around. "Excuse me?" A man in a suit that mirrored DarkSide's flipped open his ID. NSA. "Special Agent Murphy. I've never seen you two before. What department?" Shadur thought fast. "Department of Extraterrestrial Insurgence." The agent gave them a look. "There's no such department." DarkSide gave him his best knowing smile. "You just keep telling yourself that. You'll be better off in the long run. So what's the theory?" Agent Murphy looked quite boggled for a moment, but he shook it off with a shrug. "The eggheads seem to think that it's a meteor." He gestured to the hunk of rock planted at the center of the crater. Several broken crane cables were strewn around it, so it was apparent that any attempts to move it had failed. "Frankly, it's the only think that seems to make sense." DarkSide nodded toward the rock. "Mind if we take a look?" Murphy shrugged. "Knock yourself out. What can you find out that anyone else hasn't already?" DarkSide just gave the agent another knowing smile, and made toward the rock. "So what do ye make of it?" he asked the man-dragon. "Offhand," Shadur began, "I'd say the 'eggheads' have their heads up their asses if they believe the 'meteor strike' schtick themselves." "Notice the lack of debris," DarkSide agreed. "A meteor impact would've left more wreckage." "Apart from that, look at the surroundings; a crater this size'd have side effects you'd measure on a Richter scale. Unless it vaporized..." "Enh.... maybe," DarkSide shrugged back. "Still... There would've been a lot more wreckage around th'crater. It ends awfully abrupt at the lip." He hopped a puddle he didn't care to step in. "It kind of looks like the ground was just scooped out," Shadur remarked. The two 'agents' were mere steps away from the rock now, and were trying to peer past the swarm of personnel looking it over. The rock itself wasn't incredibly large, fifteen or twenty feet across at the widest point at best. It was rather nondescript; a dull, muddy grey-brown, with patches of a metallic substance here and there. Tapping one of the labcoats on the shoulder, he said, "What do you guys make of it?" The bespectacled fellow turned around, and shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. "Truth be told, we're not quite sure what to make of it. Whatever it is, it's incredibly dense. So dense, in fact, that it has a very minute gravitational field. We haven't even been able to cut it, let alone move it." He gestured to snapped cables piled around the rock. A toppled crane lay not too far away, and several others, while still upright, looked as if they had seen better times. Shadur looked at DarkSide, then ran his hand over the rock's surface and briefly grasped an extruding chunk. His grip tightened for a second, then his whole body not-quite-twitched and he nearly staggered. DarkSide glanced around, but fortunately noone seemed to have noticed. DarkSide leaned one hand against the rock, shaking his head. He looked to his 'partner', shaking his head. "Well, I'd say our time here was wasted." Shadur nodded in response. There was a shrieking squeal like nails on a chalkboard as DarkSide pulled his hand away from the rock, and he winced, almost as if in pain, and quickly shoved his hand into his pocket. He motioned to Shadur and the two promptly made their way back to the lip of the pit. "Son o'fa rat bastard!" DarkSide said, as they climbed back into the masked Highlander. He pulled the hand from his pocket and offered it to Shadur. "That hurt. I barely even cut into th'thing!" Shadur squinted, but he could make out a sliver of the 'rock' near the root of DarkSide's slightly extended index Claw[tm]. His eyes widened as he plucked away the piece of debris. "Is it just me, or does this thing weigh several grams more than it should?" "It isnae just you," DarkSide said as the little stub of a Claw[tm] snaked its way back beneath his flesh. He shook his hand to relieve the dull throb the vibration had caused. "Wha'dye try t'do back there anyhoo? Ye looked like someone slogged ye inna skull!" "Nearly popped my brain out my ears trying to snap off a piece the size of my fist." Shadur still looked a little pale but color was returning to his face. "I've knocked down buildings with a single shove. This thing didn't even budge." Shadur leaned back in his seat, eyes closed and rubbing his temples. "Let's get outta here, this place gives me the creeps all of a sudden." At a safe distance the sedan-facade shimmered and melted away to reveal the slick black-crimson hull of the Highlander. Shadur hefted the heavy case at his feet onto his lap, flipping it open and dropping the sliver of rock into something resembling a CD caddy, which he slid into an appropriate slot. He flipped several switches and punched in a sequence on a miniature keyboard, and sat back as the device did its work. "So what've we got?" DarkSide asked, casting a sidelong glance at the man-dragon. Shadur peered at the small LCD screen embedded in the case's lid. "Well, judging from the data, I think meteorite is ruled out. Space debris usually has a high degree of metal... this thing is mostly silicates and carbon." "Silicates and carbon?" "Yeah.. commonly found in things such as sand, earth, concrete... carbon in wood, organic life... people in particular." "Are ye sayin' what I think ye are?" "I wouldn't believe it myself if I wasn't seeing it." Shadur looked over at DarkSide, his face painted by a quizzical look. "I'd say that 'rock' is the missing eight blocks of Bellingham." DarkSide frowned. "What's the b'harnescope read?" Shadur glanced at the LCD screen again, tapping some keys on the keypad. "Zip. Whatever did this, it wasn't of b'harnate origin." DarkSide chewed on his lower lip, staring at the road. After a few moments, he said, "Either way, it's still no good. I think it's time t'beat feet back t'HQ. We'll go pick up Keili an' I'll call in a transport. I dunno if it's time fer th'Jihad to get involved yet, but it won't hurt to keep an eye out." "As the cliche puts it, I have a bad feeling about this." ****** TRES Outpost Achilles, Somewhere in California Day 2, 2:42am, Pacific Time ****** Lieutenant William Rolfe yawned slightly, slouching against the guard house. He started to fish around for a cigarette, but frowned as he found only empty pockets, the memory of his decision to quit smoking slowly seeping through his fatigue-induced stupor. Being posted on gate detail was never something he could relish, particularly in the middle of the night. It was mildly chilly this eve, and his breath hung in the air before him, further enforcing his desire to be somewhere else at the moment. He turned his face skyward, hoping that this was somehow just a delusion, and he'd feel the sun's warmth on his skin. With a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes, taking in the night sky. As much distain as he had for it, the sight was quite beautiful, tugging a small smile from the corners of his mouth. His eyes focused on a bright dot traversing the sky; probably a satellite of some kind, not an unusual thing to see. He shoved his fidgeting hands into his pockets, once again cursing his decision to quit his annoying, but oh-so-calming habit. He kicked at a random rock that was at his feet. His vision suddenly went white. He found himself flailing in the air, a sense of weightlessness overcoming him. Had something exploded? He didn't feel any heat. He collapsed hard into the ground as gravity regained its hold on him. His eyes began to adjust to the light, and there was an intense roaring filling his hearing; at a touch it became evident that the roar might have been the blood oozing from his ears. He felt a tugging at the back of his uniform, and his eyes went wide as the ground beneath him began to tear away. He found himself being hurled backwards, an intense crushing sensation beginning to overwelm him. A strangled scream managed to escape his crumpling lungs, and the white-hot light in his vision dissolved to blackness. TBC -- --Nemesis the Feral (NYAR!) Grand Admiral Felton, C-in-C, TRES Corps Jihad 5000 Lord of the Race The Corps is Mother. The Corps is Father. Trust the Corps.