BLOGS

"Is anybody going to get that?" Being the farthest away, I thought it pertinent that I ask, just in case one of the people closer to it, might want to do something about it.

"Get what? I don't see anything. Don't you see I am sleeping?"

No such luck. Perhaps the other one will do better.

"You know, you would see a lot better if you eyes were open. Try it."

Strike two, now let's listen for his excuse...

"I got the last evil. I have no intention of getting down from this tree. Besides its so small, surly he can manage it on his own."

"Are we betting the farm on that?" I tried to be reasonable as I got up to go and squish the latest evil to make its way into the house. I could see it, cloaked around the spider, draped through with the menace we were sent here to face.

Don't mind me. I am just walking here. Look I stopped. Don't want anything. Just moseying along. The spider mumbles to itself as it tries to make it through the room full of cats. The contract it picked up on its way here, said it would be a cakewalk.

Get in, sting the man, drop the venom pack laced with Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (I simply love how that sounds, almost as sexy as latrovenom, only the sexy poison this side of a black widow)and we are outta here. Nobody said anything about cats, a room full of cats, three cats, twelve legs, forty pounds of attitude and no place decent for a spider to get a bite on them.

"Okay, I'll get it. Then I am going on patrol, this is the third one this week."

"Whatever, bring me something back."

"I don't think so Big Boy. If there is anything to be found, I will be eating it all. I won't be bringing anything back."

I am almost to the door, I am going to be able to squeeze under it, and I will be in the clear. Cats can't go under doors. Uh-oh, that thump. That can only mean one thing. Going to have to RUN! I am lightning-streaking through the night. I am a hurricane wind whipping through trees. I am the living embodiment of speed, move left, now right, stop. Dodge. Running like crazy, jump left, missed me. Run again. Oh damn, what is this? A carpet, its plush. Speed is slowed to a crawl. Navigating the strings. Stop. He's right there. His breath is Death, the destroyer of worlds. Being still.

I know I saw it moving toward the door. If he gets under it, the Man will have to handle it himself. Stop, lock the vision, blur for motion, there. I've got him, bounding. He is in the carpet. Hold still.

I know he is there. I can see him, his cold eyes staring down at me, his stilled breath. He is using that cat thing, where they stare you into moving. Well I won't do it. I will stand right here. I will teach him to mess with me. I will be still. I will not move.

Where is it? I know its here. Focus on the motion, lock on to the slightest of motions. Open the pupils, let in every scrap of light. Slow down time. Raise the paw, slowly, ever so slowly. Don't let him see it.

He's staring right at me. Does he see me? He's looking right at me. He's trying to trick me into moving by pretending he can't see me. I'm on to him. Frozen in time. He, hey what's that slow moving shadow? He can see me. I am not going out like this. I will make a run for it. I'm young, I'm fast, I have my whole life ahead of me. I am like lightning...

I don't know where he is. I guess I am going to have to call this one off. Movement, pounce, pounce, flip, flip. Snap. "Mmmm, chewy. You two suck. Its a wonder anything gets done around here."

"And you are so much better than we are..."

"Protect the Man, that is the mission. Is there a part of that statement you don't understand. If you can't do it because we have a metaphysical obligation placed upon us by higher powers, surely you can do it because he feeds you."

At the mention of feeds, Big Boy's ears pop up from their flattened I'm-ignoring-your-rantings state to alert attention. "Go on."

"What? You need more than that? You like to eat, he feeds you. If something happens to him, who knows what will become of us. You know She does not like us. She tolerates us for him."

"Relax Sleek-black, you are too intense. We have to just embrace the coolness of life."

"Look Furball, all of us aren't descended from a bunch of lazy forest-dwelling, long-haired hippies who have been inbred to maintain their flowing locks at the expense of having an IQ in the double-digits."

"Harsh, man. True, but Harsh." Furball curled back up and proceeded to wrap his exceedingly long and amazingly fluffy tail around his supine and curled up body, displaying the aloof, I-can't-hear-you posture.

There is a skittering sound in the kitchen, giant claws skittering across a too clean floor. "Hello, Cats."

Ugh, just what I don't want. A conversation with enthusiasm-mania.

"Heard there was some Evil here. I am ready to fight. Just show me where it is. I am all over it. I will..."

"Stop. We appreciate your eagerness to help fight evil, but, well you're a Dog and dogs were not meant to fight Evil. You're for tackling the mundane issues of life, burglars, dropped broccoli, licking and adoration of the Man and his Mrs. That is your lot in life. Lowly that it may be."

Sleek-black stood up and began to pace as if he were a professor in a classroom with particularly not bright students. His tail waved like a baton emphasizing certain words. "The fighting of Evil," he began with a particular stress on the word evil, strongly delineating the two syllables, 'E-vielll,' "the supernatural menaces that lurk in the dark, things that go bump in the night (when its not us), those things that are just a step away from conquering the world every day, that is the role of the Cat." With the word cat, his tail stood straight out with only the tip pointing at himself.

"Isis gave it to us and we are doomed to fight Evil, not the mundane evil, with the little E, until the end of the world or until we destroy all the Evil left on Earth. So no, to answer your question, we cannot go out and fight evil today. You are ill equipped to do so, lacking the basic criteria required to even acknowledge evil or for that matter even see it."

Big Boy looked up, his shining blue eyes, half lidded followed up with, "Yeah, what he said." He put his head on his paws as he observed the Labrador from high in the main cat tree.

Not to be deterred, Zeus, the dog in question, asked "What if you are attacked by a burglar or some other, what's that word, uh, mundane evil? Could I help then?"

Well technically that was a right good question and I had to think about it for a moment. What did we do when confronted by mundane evil? We ran away, it wasn't our job. "Not saying you have a point or anything but perhaps we could go out together and improve our chances. You can fight evil, and I will destroy, E-veill." Not acknowledging anything about his going out with the dog, or having a Dog along on the quest to destroy Evil, Sleek-black walked past Fur-ball, who was doing as his name suggested, and whacked him in passing.

"What?"

"Cat says what?" Zeus muttered under his breath.

"What?" Fur-ball muttered again before drifting back off into sleep.

"Open that gate, Zeus."

"Okay, Cat."

"You may address me as Sleek-black."

"When we first met, you told me I was never to call you by name."

"And you still aren't. That is my appellation. My callsign as it were to the world of Evil. If you are going to be fighting Evil with me, you will need a appellation so that Evil will know you are coming and fear you."

"Big Dog."

Sigh. "Good enough. Close the door behind you."

Cats Versus Evil © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved

I can't draw stick figures, let alone illustrate this!  So I am definitely in the market for an artist to collaborate with me on this project. (Please send me a message from this site you are interested!) I've never used the graphic novel format before, and it was difficult for me to get used to writing for the audience with the captions and dialogue, and for the artists in the panels. But I downloaded a free writing program called Celtx and it formats the pages so all I have to do is figure out what goes where on the page.  Anyone who thinks writing graphic novels or comics is easy seriously needs brain washing!  It's far more challenging than my day job, which is writing for online news sites. I've done journalism for years, and I can write a lead in my sleep. I've even written plays that were produced and short stories that were published. None of those experiences come close to the difficulties I have trying to keep the very different format elements straight in my head while working on this story.

Page 1          

Chapter 1 Miyuki after death

   Panel 1     In the unseen world that exists between the living and the dead, a powerfully built, middle-aged Japanese man dressed in the robes of nobility approaches a beauteous, kimono-clad young Japanese woman whose hair is not tied up in a traditional bun, but flows gloriously down to the small of her back. She appears to be in her mid-20s. Her head is bowed in polite deference to the gentleman.

     Caption 1   The great feudal lord Takeda doesn't know how he came to this place. It was as if he were a mere feather, and a powerful wind picked him up with dizzying speed, then gently set him down on what appeared to be clouds. Although his face appears calm, he is irritated with the force that brought him here. But years of experience with espionage and battle tactics have taught him to be patient, and the reason for his current situation would reveal itself. With that thought as a comfort, he cautiously watches the very appealing young lady approaching him with tolerable deference.  It wouldn’t be the first time that an enemy tried to distract him with a woman.

Miyuki

(In Japanese) Grandfather.

  Panel 2   The nobleman's expression moves from astonishment to outrage.

Caption 2    In his day, women never addressed men of his class, even when they were on their knees.  They spoke only when they were ordered to do so.

TAKEDA*

You are NOT of my blood! You dare...!

Panel 3   He raises his right hand to give her a resounding slap, but he's surprised when        it returns to his side as if it had been stricken with a sudden paralysis.  He struggles to raise it again, then tries his left hand. It stops suddenly mid-air; he stares in disbelief. Miyuki watches calmly.

Caption 3    Roles have changed in the intervening four centuries between the time Takeda inhabited a body and Miyuki was born forty years ago (in the material world’s concept of time) in a suburb of Tokyo.

TAKEDA

What manner of evil enchantment...? Release me, witch!

*Takeda Shingen, a ruling feudal lord who lived in Japan from 1521 – 1573.

Panel 4   Close-up of Miyuki looking directly at him, smiling.

MIYUKI

I am not a witch, nor do I have the power to release you. I am your daughter, born of your noble and praiseworthy lineage over 400 years after your unfortunate demise.  You are here with me because your descendants, in Japan and in a place called the United States of America, have prayed to the Lord of all worlds for the progress of your soul, along with the souls of those before and after you.

TAKEDA

(Face strained with rage.) I will NOT be treated as a mere trifle! How dare you speak to me as an equal! Who is this "lord" you serve?

Panel 5   Miyuki has a bemused expression on her face as she speaks. Meanwhile, a sparkling, translucent veil appears behind her.

MIYUKI

We are all His servants, even if we have no knowledge of this.

TAKEDA

I demand to see him! Have him face me as a brave and honorable man should, instead of sending an impertinent girl to do his job! Tell me his name; I will seek him myself!

Page 2

Panel 6    Miyuki turns and pulls aside the veil.

Caption 4    The only life Takeda has known was the well-ordered one he had when he occupied a physical form. He knows of nothing else and wishes for nothing more. Everything around him in the afterlife reflects this wish.

Panel 7   A flashback of 16th century Japan--Takeda is a wealthy, powerful feudal lord with a large army of samurai at his command.

Caption 5     Now, the security of his orderly life has been upended by the madness of a strange, disrespectful girl who spoke of a lord who, apparently, lacked the courage and honor of a nobleman to challenge his opponents directly.

Panel 8   Miyuki holds the veil while beckoning a frowning and reluctant Takeda to walk through.

MIYUKI

"Through Thy name, O my God, all created things were stirred up, and the heavens were spread, and the earth was established, and the clouds were raised and made to rain upon the earth."* There is so much more here in the afterlife for both of us, Grandfather. We have been brought together to assist someone who is still among those who dwell on Earth--my daughter, Hitomi

Panel 9   Across three intersecting panels, Miyuki and Takeda become smaller until they dissipate into vapors. 

Caption 6    The life Takeda has known and loved will soon be no more than indistinct memories shrouded by mists.

Page 3

Panel 10   Miyuki and Takeda have appeared in front of the veil and into the bedroom of Miyuki's 27 year old daughter Hitomi's apartment. They are at the foot of her bed, looking at her. Hitomi is sleeping, curled into a fetal position. Her long, wavy black hair is tousled over her face; her bedding covers her body from the neck down. The room an eclectic mix of African, Asian and modern furniture, artifacts and pictures. Over the headboard of Hitomi's bed is a huge poster of the R&B/funk group, Parliament/Funkadelic.

Caption 7    There is nothing familiar to Takeda here: the odd furnishings, the bizarre lights and sounds emanating from peculiar machines make him uneasy. He is accustomed to being wholly in control of people and events; it perturbs him that he has neither.

Panel 11   Intersecting panels show Takeda's face is a mixture of anger and confusion. He reaches for his sword, but to his bewilderment and frustration, it will not unsheathe.

TAKEDA

What sort of demonic habitation is this, girl?

Panel 12   View of Miyuki's head turned toward Takeda, who is still struggling to free his sword.

*(Baha'u'llah, Prayers and Meditations by Baha'u'llah, p. 235)

Page 4

Caption 8    In his previous life, Takeda would have ordered the “witch” and the odd, sleeping “creature” to be executed at once. Their offense--being at odds with the structure of his life--would have been sufficient to warrant their death. But there are no soldiers or servants to carry out his command. Moreover, it galled him that the “witch” remained unabashedly impertinent. Even his sword defied him.

MIYUKI

It is...the sleeping quarters of my beloved daughter Hitomi, Grandfather.

Panel 13    POV change to bedside, near Hitomi's head. Shows the pair standing together. Miyuki's face is filled with love, sadness  and longing for her daughter. Takeda looks as if he is about to explode.

Caption 9    He has reached the last of his minuscule amount of patience. Terror is his remaining weapon.

TAKEDA

TAKE ME FROM THIS ACCURSED PLACE, WITCH, OR I SWEAR BY MY ANCESTORS I WILL RIP YOUR BODY TO MERE THREADS!!!

Panel 14   Very large shot of the two--Every vein and muscle in Takeda's face and neck in bulging in fury while Miyuki looks at him with detached amusement.

TAKEDA

SIMPLE-MINDED BITCH! YOU DARE LOOK ON ME IN JEST?

Page 5

Panel 15   POV changes to the space between Miyuki and Takeda--Hitomi has turned in her sleep, kicking the covers off.  Her hair has moved partially away from her face. She is dressed in an over-sized tee-shirt revealing her flawless, sienna-colored bare arms and legs. It is clear that she is stunningly gorgeous young lady born of African-American and Japanese ancestry (picture R&B singer Amerie).

HITOMI

Mmmhhh....

Panel 16   Takeda's mouth opened in horror as he stares at Hitomi.

Caption 10    He had heard rumors, seen pictures of dark men from a distant land that the ruddy-faced, hairy men from Europe called "Africa".  Those pale men, with their wheat or fire colored hair and strangely colored eyes, spoke of half-men who were more apes than human. Takeda thought the stories were nothing more than the uncouth ramblings of foolish drunken whites. There can be no such thing. It is against nature for a human to copulate with an ape or a monkey, an unconscionable act.

Panel 17   A close-up of Takeda.  He is apoplectic.

Caption 11    Yet, before him...evidence that the dull-brained girl who claimed to be his descendant had committed the most heinous of acts.

TAKEDA

WITCH! WHAT UNSPEAKABLE VILENESS HAVE YOU COMMITTED? THAT IS NO HUMAN; IT IS A MONSTER!

Panel 18   A close up of Miyuki’s calm face.

MIYUKI

She is not only human, Grandfather, she is my precious, beautiful daughter. This is the 21st century; almost five hundred years has passed since you had a body. So much has changed since you walked upon the Earth. Whether you like it or not, she is of your lineage also. I married a man who descended from the people of Africa, although the country of his birth is now known as the United States of America.

Panel 19   Takeda stares at Miyuki, who continues to gaze lovingly at Hitomi.

MIYUKI

I know it is a rather old fashioned name for a girl her age, but I named her Hitomi, after my poor little sister. My sister was born with “special” talents, but without the emotional capacity to use them wisely. I had no idea that, to a lesser degree, the same would be true of my daughter. If I had, I would have given her an English name.

Page 6   Panel 20   Close up of Takeda's face.  His eyes are narrowed as he contemplates               another tactic of escape.                                     

Caption 12    Years of warring has taught the feudal lord that there are thousands of ways to turn a negative situation into a favorable one. He needs only a suitable moment.

TAKEDA

Really, my granddaughter? Tell me of this place, Uni...what is its name again?

Panel 21    Miyuki looks at Takeda, smiling because she knows he is trying to find a way out of what must seem like intolerable bondage to him.

Caption 13    What Takeda does not know is that the history of his battlefield stratagems and preternatural cunning has been passed down through the generations. Her father told the stories to Miyuki's brothers. Her eldest brother, Hiromasa, loved to regal (and terrify) her with his dramatic interpretations of these tales.

Panel 22   Flashback of sixteen year old Hiromasa sitting cross-legged on the floor next to six year old Miyuki's tatami mat (circa 1967), enthusiastically telling her about the clever ruses employed by their ancestor, Takeda Shingen that often led to victory over his opponents. Miyuki is wide-eyed and enthralled.

Caption 14    Much has been written and debated about the effect the dead has upon the living. There is evidence that the stories left by the forebears and repeated by their descendants does form a sense of identity within a family, especially when the stories instruct and warn about the various trials of life. The more unfathomable effect the dead have on their progeny is not so apparent, or easily explained.

Page 7   Panel 23   Hitomi is thrashing about in bed.

Panel 24   She jerks awake, startled.

Caption 15    Much of what happens in Hitomi's life is not easily explained.

HITOMI

Mommy!

Panel 25   She looks about her room as if she expects to see her mother nearby.

Panel 26   She cries.

Panel 27   Shot of Takeda and Miyuki watching Hitomi. Takeda looks bewildered while Miyuki is despairing. 

Panel 28   The glittering veil has appeared, and Miyuki backs into it as Takeda continues staring at Hitomi.

I found her behind our lines in a field not too far from a downed Messerschmitt Me 262. We had pushed the Germans back out of Paris and had retaken the countryside in early September. I thought she was a local who had been injured when the plane crashed into her house, but she seemed shell-shocked and could barely speak. She was staggering around in some colorful rags and we took her into the improvised field hospital.

We did not have any doctors yet, it was still too soon after taking the territory, so I was the lead medic in charge. We lost Jenkins, the only other medic, so I was working two shifts tending the wounded as best I could. Ronowski was a good kid with his hands so I put him to work cleaning and tending lesser injuries while I did what I could for those who looked like they might make it.

The camp was an old church that hadn't taken too many bullets and kept us out of the rain. It rained nearly every day. The Parisians were nice though and shared what little food there was. No one knew the strange woman, so we assumed she wandered from a nearby province.

She was a right pretty thing, five foot ten, but in her shocked state she seemed diminished and she let me lead her quietly. A French woman, Martinique, likely a Resistance member helped me tend her and we put her in the back rooms of the church.

After we cleaned her up, we noticed she did not have a scratch on her, even though her clothing had been destroyed, she was unmarked. We tried every language we could scrounge up in camp, but she did not seem to have any words at all.

We went out to check through the wreckage of the Messerschmitt and marveled at its technology. We took sketches of the design of the vehicle, its engine and the strange containment devices that were in the bomb bays. Both were broken but they did not appear to be bombs. Once we were done, we returned to the church. We were expecting to be reinforced.

Later that evening, we made a breakthrough with the blond haired woman. After saying my name and tapping my chest, she finally seemed to get some sort of recognition. She tapped herself and said "Helga."

After that, she became a member of the camp, helping with anything and everything. She still didn't talk much but she would smile and occasionally laugh if others were. She followed Martinique around everywhere and the woman graciously tolerated it.

A week after Helga got here, she came running to me and grabbed me. She tried to draw me with her. I picked up my rifle and told Lewis and Franklin to come with me. We double-timed it to a barn and what we saw inside stopped us in our tracks.

We opened fire on it without even questioning what it was because it was ripping Martinique's chest open and eating her vitals. At first glance I would have thought it was an insect except it was the size of a man, and its claws were tearing through Martineque's bones as if they were twigs.

Our bullets bounced off its shell as if it were armored. It drew its antenna back and turned around, broke down the wall of the barn and sped off down the road.

Lewis pulled Helga away from Martinique. He said, "what the hell was that?"

My mind was racing, in this war, I had seen a lot of things but nothing like that. "I don't know, but when it comes back, I intend to give it a much warmer reception."

"How do you know its going to come back, Sarge?"

I looked at both of them and then looked down at Martiniques' body. "Because we are where the food is. We are the food."

We got the townspeople together and explained to them what happened. They did not believe it at first, until the saw the body, and a barn full of holes and no target. I thought until our reinforcements arrived, we would be better off if we stayed closer together, so we took over the small number of homes near the church and established a perimeter and guards. Everyone was issued a weapon and taught how to use it. No one was go anywhere alone. Helga was the only person who did not have a weapon, she refuse to even touch one. After Martinique's death, she would talk to no one, nor stay with anyone but me.

We put a call out on the radio, trying to get an ETA on the backup but we were told it would be a couple more days, so we would just have to tough it out and make due. We put a machine gun nest in the center of the complex to offer a complete field of fire and had snipers in two of the tallest buildings. Nothing we could do but wait. It didn't take long.

I am not sure what made me go out that evening but I felt compelled to walk the perimeter and talk to the men. They were in good spirits and except for the two who had seen it, joked about the idea of a bug hunt. As I was walking back to the church I had the strangest sensation of being watched. I turned to look down the road but I couldn't see anything. I slept with a pistol in my hand.

Around 0400 hours, I heard gunfire, and sat up off of the pew I was sleeping on. It was rifle fire, likely one of the patrols. Then I heard the screaming and I was up and running.

There were only twenty soldiers left and they were all accounted for, so it was likely one of the locals. We ran out and made it as far as the central machine gun station, when one of the snipers launched a flare. We saw Jean-Claude, one of the cooks, running toward us and then before he could move more than a dozen steps, he was sliced in half from behind. The insect was back, and he brought friends. Dozens of them.

Williams, our church sniper had already begun firing and the rest of us bellied up to the sandbags at the machine-gun nest and opened fire with our M1 rifles. Our bullets struck the creatures but only the machine gun seemed to have the power to bring them down easily.

"Concentrate your fire in pairs. Snipers, cover fire only. Somebody get me a damn grenade."

"Coming at ya, Sarge."

One of these cockroach looking things made a dash across the courtyard toward the church and began to climb the wall toward the sniper position.

We tried to knock it down but the armor on its back was too strong.

"Petrelli, there is one coming up the wall right at you!"

There was a scream as the monster crested the wall and a single shot.

Petrelli looked over the wall, gave the thumbs up and kept firing. We held the ground until dawn and had taken no casualties. Or so we thought. When we canvased the area, there were three spots where human blood had been spilled but no humans were found. There were dozens of creatures killed, but they took the bodies, every single one, except for Petrelli's kill. Then the real bad news followed.

"All of the food in the camp is gone, Monsieur. I don't know how they did it, but there is nothing left anywhere. The grounds are picked clean. Only what we had with us in the church is left. They ate every chicken, every goat, every wheel of cheese anywhere." Pierre was beside himself.

Corporal Lewis and Petrelli had taken the body of the monster from the roof and were looking it over for weaknesses. We looked at our ammo and realized we could not have another fire-fight like last night. We simply did not have enough ammo. Only the machine was without fear of running out. The rest of us were down to fifty or sixty rounds apiece. That would not last long in a sustained firefight.

"Right between the center of the head seems to work best." Petrelli's New York accent was thick and it was something the group used to tease him about. "I guess that works no matter who youse are." They laughed. But real fear crossed all of their faces.

"I think we are going to have to make a stand here inside the church. Its got the strongest walls and the fewest windows. I want you to board up everything you can. Use the pews and anything else you can scavenge from town. They don't seem to like the light so avoid the shadows. Remember, they got Martinique when she surprised one in the barn."

"Sarge, I have an idea."

"I'm all ears, Lewis."

"Maybe we can lure them where we want them. And use something besides bullets to kill them. We don't have napalm but we do have gasoline so we could make Molotov cocktails. They seem as flammable as anything else."

"Fine, get a detail and get on it. But that is a plan that will happen while they are far away and while we still have lots of bullets. No sense having any flaming ones running through the camp."

The next few hours were desperate as we did our best to fortify our positions before nightfall. Helga seemed strange and distracted but she worked as hard as anyone to prepare before dark.

We were hunkered down with two squads outside on rooftops for sniping and close protection. We were using shotguns, inside the church and had built a bunker in the center. Our more powerful weapons were outside to try and kill the larger and more aggressive creatures first. Both groups outside could see and cover each other, and had plenty of flares to get through the night if necessary. We had also stationed lanterns down the road and anywhere else we thought the creatures might come from.

With no more food left in town, we knew they would be coming for us.

They came after midnight. They were not shy, they simply came right down the street, one after another, they came down every street from every direction. We shot flares, we threw Molotovs, we burned them, we shot them, we stoned them with traps, they fell into pits, and they still kept coming.

We fought them until four. They would fight, close us retreat, and they did this again and again. Our bullets grew lower and lower. We would soon be down to handguns and shot guns. The two machine guns were still loaded but when they started shooting it took everything we had to keep the enemy off of them. We were down to our last grenades as well. One or two more waves and we would be fighting them hand to hand.

Sniper Team Alpha died first. The creatures saved the best for last. Some of them could fly. They swooped down and simply picked them off in rapid succession. The men managed to kill three more before being dragged away into the darkness. We provided cover for Sniper team Bravo, and pulled them into the church. Our last machine-gun was setup in the doorway to the church which faced the street.

He ran out of bullets at five to five. Our shotguns held them at bay, lacking the power they made up for it in damage dealing. By five thirty we had killed sixty or so right up to the walls of the church. The waves had stopped. It seemed only the last of the creatures were coming. But these were bigger and tougher and could only be killed with a direct close hit to their chest or face. If you were that close you were likely to be getting killed. Petrelli bought it like that. Shot one bastard clean in the head and was sliced apart for his troubles. I want to go like that. Clean.

We had put the townspeople behind us in the church with small arms and they helped when they could. Suddenly the wall behind us exploded and they were being grabbed and dragged away. Helga leaped into the crowd of the creatures and began to bludgeon them with her fists.

Each hit caused a creature to explode into blobs of disgusting flesh. We did not know what we were seeing and we did not care. The last twelve of us rushed up behind her and pointed our shotguns into the masses wherever she wasn't. One of the biggest of the bastards, grabbed her with his claws and I expected him to rip her apart like Petrelli. She screamed and the sound literally turned him into jelly before our eyes.

We fought for another hour, the creatures must have been desperate because they kept coming and fought more savagely, with greater rage. We lost five more after that. All but seven of the twenty townspeople were lost or missing.

Helga seemed to be slowing down, her strength waning. But she did not stop and neither did we. We were so focused that I did not see one coming in behind us. It was a big one. Lewis having only one grenade left, threw himself onto the creature and the grenade detonated under him. Blasting the creature and us. No one saw Helga move. One second she was outside, the next she was in front of me. She took shrapnel that was meant for me.

She fell back into my arms and looked at me. There were shrapnel wounds in her chest, stomach and legs. I could hear small arms going on behind me but they gradually stopped. I looked at her and wondered where she came from, who she was, what she was. And none of that mattered. She saved us.

They told me later, she was a prototype of a German super-soldier that was intercepted and shot down near us. The insects were also a weapon, likely on the same craft. It seemed her memory had been lost in the crash and she only remembered her name. There was some talk of taking her body and dissecting it for science, but no one could find her when they went looking for her later.

When the war ended, we heard of several super-soldiers who had been released into the war, but were all believed to have been destroyed or killed depending on their nature. I returned home, tired from the war, just wanting to forget it happened. My parents had taken care of my little house and it was just the way I remembered it. I flopped down onto my bed and remembered Helga. A wind whipped up and the tree outside my window shook its leaves. The window opened up and a woman landed gently on my bedroom floor.

"We are no longer enemies. And I have never forgotten your kindness."

I ran to her and she swept me up in her powerful arms. How does one begin to forget a goddess? I did not intend to even try.

Übermensch© Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved

The Kid fell from the sky, aflame. A black energy coruscated and trailed from his unconscious form. He fell limply, silently, helplessly. His explosive impact drove shards of concrete into the air and an exploding crater released a tower of flaming gas as his powers ignited an underground fuel main. People retreated into whatever cover they could find as automobiles fell from the explosion and the searing heat melted plastic, rubber, and other soft metals nearby. It was hell on Earth.

What followed him moved slowly at first. It was in no hurry. It savored the world into which it found itself thrust. The first two days here, there was no resistance and the creatures were soft, edible, pliant, with mild and crunchy centers. Then a few new ones came, and they were armed with stinging tools, primitive and less effective than nothing. They and their tools were tasty with a slight iron flavoring. Some articles of their clothing were less than tasty, tough with a fibrous consistency. After eating six or eight of them, it decided to peel the rest of the blue guardians and eat only the flesh and bones.

Then they came. The special ones. Most looked like the main food of this world, small, delicate, crunchy, and like the blue guardians, they were armed with tools. Their tools were fantastically more effective than those of the blue guardians. No matter. Nothing of this world can harm me. Nothing at all. Even the fire-star is too weak. I shall enjoy this one, and I shall not share it. Not a morsel will the Others get.

“The Kid is down.”

“He’ll get up. He’s just like his old man was. Stubborn.”

“Any ideas of what we’re dealing with?”

“With the rash of magical threats we have been seeing lately, I think someone has just upped the ante.”

“Oswald, I think we are going to have to hold the line until the big guns get here.”

Thornton Oswald the Third stood looking over the city and realized that the Shrike was right. With The Kid down, Gunner on sabbatical, Kali was coming from Metro City, and Shango out doing whatever magical Protectors of the Crossroads do in their spare time, they would have to hold this thing until reinforcements arrived. But it took The Kid. After Kali and Shango, The Kid was as tough as they come. He lacked his father’s fighting experience, but his durability under fire was unquestioned.

“Shrike, I will need a minute. Can you keep him entertained while I transform?”

“Sure thing, he’ll never see me coming.”

The Shrike, Walter Scott, depressed the studs in his gloves and his suit’s jetpack came online. Extending his arms, large metallic wings with serrated edges extended from them, increased his wing span to twenty feet. “Don’t be late.” With a boom, the Shrike took to the air and dived to attack the creature who stood easily twenty feet tall.

Thornton proceeded to draw a circle of containment in the rooftop gravel. As his cane drew through the rocks, they lit with an eldritch glow. Hearing the boom of the rockets as they roared away, Thornton focused his mind on breaching the boundaries between worlds. To a particular world, a world of feral monsters used by dark magicians and ancient gods, to the Fan-run-dhar-durak - Land of Forgotten Beasts. Once the realm became clear to him, he sought for a particular beast, a creature whose unmistakable might would be tested tonight. He sought the beast called Grimmamon, mightiest of the Beast Lords.

The Shrike swooped fast and his onboard computer, linked directly into his brain, had already plotted the course he needed to strike five times in two passes. His wings comprised of Promethium, a rare alien metal, allowed him to transfer and magnify his kinetic energy, so the longer he flew, the stronger and more dangerous the metal became.

But fly too long and the energy became uncontrollable without a release. So the longer he flew, the more he was forced to fight. Only touching the ground would bleed that energy from him. It was always the delicate dance of fighting and being tougher, but blowing out from not releasing enough energy or returning to his default state where he was weakest just before recharging.

Having flown here, he had already expended a good portion of his energy against the creature. He had damaged this black material called skin and even had drawn blood. But it seemed unaffected and knocked The Kid into next week. If he had been just a second slower, it would have been him. He doubted he would have survived that impact with the ground.

—gonna be fast, be loose, feel the air, float with it, snap the wing, strike, strike, beat the wing, turn, beat the wing turn, snap, snap, strike, strike, strike, away—

His blows were fast, blurs to the naked eye, and each tore into the nacreous flesh with little effect. Once, his wings had sliced through bank vaults back in the days when he was a villain in Metro City.

—Come on, Kid, we ain’t friends or nothing, but right now, I could use the sight of your overconfident face coming out of that fire. I hope Oswald is having more luck than I am.

* * *

Kali was streaking through the sky on her cloud, heading to Paragon City where she received the distress call from the Shrike and the Sorcerer. She was making good time and would arrive in about ten minutes. From this height, the suburbs of Paragon City seemed peaceful. She could see the smoke from the burning buildings ahead, a path of sheer destruction. The old Kali would have liked that; the new Kali was repulsed by such mindless waste.

“Kali Yuga, I have need of you and your darkest aspect.”

“I hate when you call me that, Shango. Where are you?” She really did hate that name; it invoked a violent and destructive past where she was a destroyer of all that she surveyed.

“I am at The Crossroads. There has been a breach and creatures are pouring through. I am attempting to seal it, but I cannot as long as the creatures prevent me from reaching it. I need your help.”

“Asking for help? That is not like you, Thunderer.”

“Nor is needing help, warrior-goddess, but here we are.”

“Can you make the gate? Or shall I follow your whining to the Crossroads?”

“Suffice it to say, you are earning that spanking.”

“Put it on my tab. I will be there shortly, husband.”

Kali focused her will, and her two arms became four. Each of them was armed with a knife of pure spirit. She began a sword dance designed to take her to the Crossroad between Worlds, a magical nexus connecting nearby realms of existence. A particularly puissant sorcerer or other magical being could use it to reach across space and time to other worlds altogether.

As she whirled faster and faster, she began to weave open a doorway, using her spirit blades and her connection to her husband’s god-force. The Shrike would call it a paired quantum connection, but she preferred the magical concept of contagion; once two things are bound together, nothing can keep them apart. She was beginning to feel the connection strongly and could see into the nether dimensions the Crossroad inhabited.

She could sense Shango before she could see him. He was covered by a horde of dark skinned giants. The Crossroad was in the presence of three giant red suns shedding their ruddy light on the scene. Shango was, for a moment, unable to be seen, but then lightning exploded from the ground, and the creatures were thrown back, and for a moment he was clear.

“Woman, what part of your Kali Yuga aspect did you not understand? I need you in your most terrible guise or we are doomed.”

Once she transitioned into the Crossroad, she was behind Shango, and he used his double-headed axe to create a barrier of lightning.

“Good to see you, too. Before we invoke that bitch, do you think we could see what we can do here, first?”

“Do you see that portal? That is where we need to be.”

The distance was only about the length of two football fields, but it was filled with these creatures, each the height of two men, with near human physical attributes. Their heads appeared to be more like an octopus, and their hands instead ended in tentacles. There were hundreds of them.

“Make ready, husband.”

Shango dropped his barrier and released a bolt of lightning, driving a wedge between the creatures, incinerating two dozen of them instantly. In the second it took his lightning to cross one hundred meters, Kali had already slain thirty of the monsters . She stepped through time and space and was everywhere and nowhere. She appeared and disappeared, and each strike laid a creature low. Her face was serene and peaceful as her four blades struck at once. Her superhuman strength made each blow cut deep into their flesh, severing meat and bone like a hot knife through butter.

Shango concentrated his powers and created a series of strikes before her; each of them she slew her way through to the next. When he was too busy to support her, he lent her his lightning and she kept the area around her cleared with her flashing blades and lightning. His double-headed axe flew around him with a cloud of electricity arcing from it to every creature near him. But the creatures were relentless and without fear. As soon as he would clear the area, more would appear.

He looked out and saw Kali was within fifty feet of the portal. He called lightning once more, and as it arced from him toward her, the creatures around him opened their mouths and sharp bones shot out and speared him in his chest and arms. He looked in disbelief; his flesh had the strength of steel. He laughed off high caliber weaponry like rain. What were these things that they could do this?

A searing acid began to burn his flesh, pumped through their ceramic probosci. He howled as his mighty flesh began to burn. Without warning, the creatures blocking his line of sight were cut in half, and two other blades slashed the demons’ tongues. The blades whirled around him and returned to Kali, who had not stopped her dance of death and retrieved her weapons amid flight and continued killing.

Shango, now enraged, drew his power to him, focused his pain and rage and became a thing of pure lightning. The creatures strove to grab him and died instantly, burned to death. As they cleared away, powerful arcs leaped from him to them, and they continued to die. He moved forward slowly, and Kali cut them down as they passed through the portal. He reached her and caught her hand as she struck out at him.

“Enough, my wife. The portal is silent. Perhaps we have earned our invitation.”

“Then let us not be rude to our hosts. They did set forth such a feast for such as us.”

“Indeed.”

They stepped through the portal.

* * *

Meanwhile, Thornton Oswald III completed his summoning ritual with the King of Netherbeasts. Grimmammon took the form of a great cat of immense size. “ Grimmammon, I invoke your service as in the pacts defined by my ancestors.”

“Bah, mortal, why should I bother with your family’s ancient pacts? You have been notoriously lax in your relationship to us. Where are the rituals of blood and souls as in the past?”

“Spare me your pathetic bargaining, hell-beast. Without me and mine, you and yours would have passed into your final existence decades ago. Our world stopped worshipping your kind hundreds of years ago. Look around you. Ask where Lord Arioch and his brethren have gone. Provide your services and enjoy the benefits of our continued relationship.”

“Show me why you summoned me.”

“Look, oh Great One. Tell me what you see.”

Grimmammon looked over the edge of the roof, and his demonic mien grew more stoic. “Our pact ends at the edge of this world, sorcerer. That is an eldritch being from beyond our world.”

“And evidently frightening enough to remove most of your bluster. Tell me more, Great One. Who or what is that creature?”

“A Chaos god from before the time of Arioch, from before time as you measure it.”

“You lie. There were no gods before that time.”

“Silence, pup. There are secrets even the gods keep. These creatures were imprisoned here in an age before yours. You are not the first masters of the Earth. Did you think you were? Ha.”

“Imprisoned?”

“By the First People. They could not destroy them, but they could lock them beneath the Earth, or the Sea, or in Fire. It is said even the very Air imprisons one. I will have no truck with that one, no matter what the price you offer. Its powers likely dwarf mine, the same way mine dwarf yours.”

Oswald thought about what Grimmammon told him, and realized they were out of their depth. Even if Shango and Kali were here, this was a threat greater than they could manage on their own. Since neither of them were here, it was likely they were working on this menace in their own way. “So we will do what we can until they arrive.”

“I know you can see the boy in that conflagration. Bring him here; deposit the flames on the creature. Then you can take your leave. We would not want you to be injured before I can make use of you again. You are weakening with age; perhaps I shall call your rival Shunmaburan instead.”

“As you request, so shall it be. But if you seek to wound my pride, you will find no demon has pride when its survival is at stake. But by all means, if you wish to call Shunmaburan today, and he were not to survive, I would be in your debt. Farewell.”

The old demon stood at the edge of the roof and the flames rose from the crater in the street. The flames swirled as if they were a fire vortex and flew from the crater to surround the otherworldly invader with the terrible fires. The Kid disappeared from the crater and appeared on the roof next to Oswald. Oswald saw the daemon link the fire to the creature, and realized the fire would only last a few minutes before exhausting its fuel. Once surrounded, the creature stopped moving forward, and this bought them some time.

Grimmammon turned away from the roof’s edge. He looked at the boy and said, “Tough, that little one is. A parting gift.” And with that he nodded and stepped back into the gateway in the floor of the roof.

Oswald was not happy with Grimmammon’s parting words. No good comes from gifts from demons. Looking down at The Kid, he saw the boy’s amazing recuperative powers rebuilding him, and in less than two minutes, he sat up, looking angry.

“Wait. We need to talk. There are things you need to know.”

* * *

Carolyn Von Putten was having dinner on the other side of Paragon City when she saw the news. She was finally having the date she had taken a vacation for, and she was determined to enjoy it. She was wearing a black Versace dress with less than modest pumps, showing off her well-muscled body.

She spent days hunting for this dress and wanted to stun Elliot Cole, investigative reporter, right out of his socks. And the dress had the right effect, too. Cole was barely able to speak and the evening was going so well. And then this.

Cole looked at her. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“I know you can see that television over there above the bar.”

“And? It’s on the other side of town. If those heroes can’t handle it, we’ll just cut our dinner date a bit short.”

Cole leaned forward and whispered, “What about Gunner? You do realize I know who you are?”

“What?”

“Don’t try to kid the kidder. I have known for some time. I am the ace investigative reporter in Paragon City. Now I know you should be going, and they certainly look like they need you. I don’t see Shango or Kali. Moving fire means the Occultist is there, and that flashing of silver probably means the Shrike, and I have not seen The Kid yet, so I am guessing thirty foot tall monsters warrant your attention?”

“Do you know how long I have waited for this date?”

“And I promise we will get another shot at it, pardon the pun. Now go. Besides, I have a scoop to get.”

“Need a lift? My car is on its way.”

“Nah, you have an image to uphold. Guns blazing and all.”

“See you in a bit.” Carolyn grabbed Cole and kissed him fiercely on the mouth. “Just in case, you’re late to our next date.” She turned and ran out the door. Turning the corner, a midsize SUV pulled alongside and opened the side door.

“Your suit’s in the back. Nice dress. “ The grizzled man driving the car pointed his thumb backward. She hopped up into the back and started stripping. “Get me there, fast. Set up range for heavy weapons long range. Put me on the radio. Shrike, can you hear me?”

“Gunner, enjoying your vacation?”

“Can it, I need you to get some distance and come in hot. I will be there in less than five minutes. Move out and I will come in with explosive ordinance. You follow with a Cannonball.”

“Roger that, fearless leader.”

“Occultist?”

“Yes, Gunner.”

“Where is The Kid?”

“I have him. He has been hurt. He found the creature first and alerted us. He held it until the Shrike and I could help.”

“How is he doing?”

“Tough as nails, ready to go back.”

“Any word from Shango or Kali?”

“None, but I can sense they are not in this world, or at the Crossroads. So they may be involved at another point in the battle. We will have to do what we can.”

“Our goal is to stun and control. Keep it where it is. Can you get the rest of the people out of there?”

“Of course.”

“Once the Kid is up, tell him to wait for my signal. Ten seconds after my signal, he should see a Cannonball. I will need him to grab the Shrike. I will work long range pushing the creature back. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“My contacts tell me it’s not like anything we have ever seen. We better hope Shango and Kali are having better luck than we are.”

“Why?”

“My contacts said the last time these things ruled the world, they destroyed the previous inhabitants.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“Stand by for my signal. Get those people out of there.”

* * *

Shango and Kali stepped through the portal and fell to their knees. The gravity was intense, eight times what they were used to on Earth. The air was thick and heavy. Even with their superior senses, they could barely see through the soup-like atmosphere.

They could hear a chittering sound, something that clicked, popped, sputtered at a variety of distances. Each set of sounds was distinct and otherworldly. Kali stood and began to move her hands in magical gestures.

“The spiritual flow here is weak. Something binds its movement.”

“Draw the god-force from my axe and complete your spell.”

As Kali finished her spell, she looked exhausted, but now she could understand the voices.

“What is it? Why has it come here?”

“It has disease; it comes from elsewhere. Nothing comes here.”

“Make it leave.”

The three voices had a chorus of others that answered them.

“This does not bode well, Kali. I think I liked it better when I didn’t know what they were saying.”

“That can be arranged. What do we do now? I was hoping there would be something to hit over here.”

“It wants to hit us. Why? What did we ever do to it?”

“Kill it. It trespasses on our world. We would never allow that in the past. We have eaten all before now.”

“No haste, visitors are rare; find what they want, first. What do you want, germ invaders?”

“I am Shango the Thunderer and this is Kali Bhavatarini. On our world we are gods. I would see whom I address."

“Gods, you say.
Hahahahahahaha! Such tiny gods.
You must come from a tiny world.”

“Show yourselves, braggart,” Kali shouted out to the darkness.

“Pull back the darkness.”
“We’ll rip your tiny minds apart.”
“Shroud is for your protection.”

Shango raised his axe and began to emit lightning, pushing back the darkness. Kali called her spirit blades and touched them together, increasing the light and dispelling the shroud around them.

“Evil germs want to see what we are?”
“Germ gods can’t listen.”
“So be it.”

The shroud of darkness peeled back slowly like a fog being dispelled. The scene was one of carnage as an alien landscape with the remains of a city all around them. Broken buildings toppled into the streets with all the great structures damaged in one way or another.

In the sky swirled a great mass, where the shroud emanated. Tendrils of both darkness and blackened flesh reached from it. They were immense, and the creature filled the sky with its horror. The pressure on the minds of Kali and Shango increased as its spiritual monstrosity overwhelmed them. Both warrior gods, both having slain tens of thousands in battle, were not prepared for the horror of a creature that had slain billions, entire worlds, holding their souls enslaved within its flesh, the spiritual screams overwhelming them. Their shields diminished, pushed back to their very persons. They stood together to support each other, and held the horror at bay, but it lapped at their shields, tongues of darkness trying to lick them, taste them, just seconds from overwhelming them completely.

They had never seen anything like this.

“Germ gods, you do not see all there is to me. I dwell at the center of the Universe. I lived before your world was even a swirling in the cosmic miasma.

What would you know of godhood?

You are only a little more evolved than the worms of your world.”

Shango laughed loudly and contemptuously at the alien being. “Your living quarters are foul, oh great Universe-dwelling deity. Where are your worshippers? Where are your spires of beauty, showing off your power to your enemies? A poor deity that fouls its nest!” Kali looked at Shango disapprovingly.

“Imprisoned by the creatures here. Unable to enter, unable to leave, I sensed an awakening and strove to find it at the Crossroads of all Realities. But before I could find it and leave, the portal was closed. Wretches bound me to this spot. Hate them I did. Killed all of them. They now serve me as my advance guard. Now I seek my kind everywhere. Only they can free me.”

“What would you know of this creature? He roams my world, free. His power is like yours, dark, an evil before time.” Kali presents a psychic image of the creature in Paragon City.

“He is one of us. Betrayer. He taught them here how to bind me to this spot. In exchange for his imprisonment somewhere else, away from me. Send me to him. I would have my revenge.”

“We cannot send you to him. We cannot break the bindings that lock you here. But we could make it possible for you to bring him here.” Shango looked at Kali, disbelieving what she was proposing.

“Trust me, my husband.”

“Oh yes, I would have him here with me.”

“How would you make this possible?”

“You are, after all, insignificant in power even to one as puny as he.”

Kali spoke to the tendrils of the creature tearing away at her shields, seeking even a momentary doubt to penetrate and strike. “Open your portal again. We will make a portal to our world. You reach through both and pull him back to you.”

“How can I trust you? I trusted him and he deceived me.

I trusted these creatures and they enslaved me. I cannot trust anyone now. Only one of you can go. 

The other stays here.”

They look at each other disbelievingly. They are the last of their kind on their world. Without them, their respective pantheons would lose their last anchors to Earth. Shango readied himself to say something, and Kali touched him on the lips. “You go. Your powers on Earth make you the more suitable choice to create the gate and to drive him into it. I will stay here and play hostage.”

“I will be back for you, my wife.”

“You’d better.”

* * *

The Kid, using his super-speed, ran through the legs of the creature and launched an attack at its chest. His haymaker rocked its footing. Rebounding off its chest, he flipped and landed thirty feet away, just to the right of Gunner.

Gunner in her red and black battle gear held an X-25 rocket rifle, firing a series of explosive grenades into the tentacled face of the beast. The Occultist rained fiery spheres down from the sky, each wrapping a limb in a flaming embrace.

Fire had the most effect on the creature, preventing its continued movement. But that was all they could do. Between The Kid and his speed and strength and the Shrike’s Promethium attacks, they could keep it off-balance. But whenever it moved or flailed about, buildings fell.

Nothing they did caused any permanent damage and they were beginning to tire.

Suddenly the sky darkened and the wind whipped up. Lightning began to swirl at the edges of the skyline.

The Kid, looking up, slowed down the flow of time and saw lightning charges building up right above their heads. Grabbing Gunner, he sped out of the line of the lightning discharge with seconds to spare. His big grin showed this was what he lived for, that last second save that no one but he could pull off. “Got ya, boss lady. I think the cavalry is here.”

“What?” Gunner hated when he did that. He saw something seconds before it happened. Then the lightning strikes began. Each rained down as a driving wind directed them into the face of the creature. Right where she was standing a second ago.

“Occultist,” boomed the voice of Shango from the heavens, “we need a Gate to the Crossroads. Something big enough for our guest.”

“Shrike, where are you?” Gunner extricated herself from the Kid’s very tight and strangely arousing grip.

“Coming in at Mach two. Tell me we have a target or I am going to explode right over you guys. Less than a minute.”

“Come down West Street. We are trying to push the creature to the Crossroads.”

“What good is that? He’ll just come back.”

“It’s what Shango wants.”

“Good enough for me. Fifty seconds.”

The Occultist teleported himself to the ground behind the alien monstrosity and began to form his gate. It was hard to concentrate over the barrage of lightning, and he had to erect a barrier to protect himself. Holding his cane above his head, he warded off the lightning and driving rain pushing the creature back toward him. His incantations steady, he sensed the gateway to the Crossroads opening. And then he sensed it, a creature of the Outer Dark awaiting on the other side!

He balked, holding the spell before completion. Shango is impetuous, stubborn, and sometimes downright irresponsible. But since I don’t see Kali, I have to assume she is somehow involved in this. In the end, this is about trust. I have to trust they have a reason. He completed the spell.

The Shrike, covered in the kinetic energy of his Promethium armor, saw the gateway open up. Diving down, he targeted the creature and saw lightning striking it, as well. Lightning strikes so powerful, the very air seemed aflame in a light so bright, the creature could barely be seen. Never saw Shango like this. Glad we are on the same side now. Four, three, two, one...

The release of the Promethium had to be done at point blank range. It had a release range of less than ten feet. He could turn at this speed, but just barely. To be sure of the effect this time, he would have to cut it closer than he was comfortable with. If I had known this hero gig would be so dangerous, I might have just stayed a villain. He activated his force field a second before impact, bracing himself for the energy release, it would be the equivalent of a Tomahawk missile. The explosion blasted him into the sky as he rebounded from the armored skin of the creature.

Flight controls are gone, diagnostics lights are on everywhere --we’re done. This had better be worth it. He felt his vector changing as he fell downward. Still trying to reboot his armor, he suddenly felt the wind was knocked out of him.

Suddently drapped over the shoulder of the Kid as they bounced off a building, arced through the air and landed on the ground nearly a hundred feet away.

“One day I might miss you.” The Kid laughed and put the Shrike down on the ground, clapping him on the back.
“Don’t remind me. Thanks for the save.”

“Armor systems online.” The Shrike’s powered armor reactivated.

“You might want to work on that reboot speed.” The Kid smiled and streaked away, faster than a Corvette down the street back toward the creature. He plucked hurtling chunks of building out of the air, like flowers, that might strike bystanders as he re-entered the fray.

The combined explosions of the promethium wave, Shango’s lightning strikes, and Gunner’s mini-missiles pushed the creature into the edge of the gateway, but not quite through it. Before anyone could make a further effort, a tendril of blackness reached through the gate, and as it touched our air, burst into flame. It grabbed the monster and pulled it back into the Crossroads. The last thing heard was, “I finally found you, Nyarlethotep. Revenge is ours.”

Without warning the gateway snapped shut.

Shango dropped like a rock from the sky, attempting to cross back into the gateway before it closed. The speed of his landing cracked the concrete. He roared like a madman and began to whirl his axe to create his own portal. The air was aflame with his lightning, but no portal formed. The Occultist walked up behind him and placed his hand on Shango’s shoulder.

“Enough, old friend. The creature from the Outer Dark has temporarily sealed the passage from our world to the Crossroads.”

“It has Kali.”

The gathered heroes fell silent.

* * *

Kali summoned her spirit swords and began the ritual dance of power. Tapping the energies unique to this plane, she bound its power to hers. She felt the lives of The People, and their rage at the creature that destroyed them. She felt their need to lash out, but also their impotence since they are deceased and can no longer affect the world. Her dance said that they could.
They listened.

The portal had been open for some time. She remained peripherally aware of it as the spirits of the dead came to her and followed her dance, each lending its tiny essence to what she was, a goddess of destruction and creation, a goddess of Time and Space. They sensed her kinship to all things in creation, and were at peace.

The portal was rent asunder as the Other suddenly arrived, and the two power-mad creatures tapped the energies of this plane and dozens of others nearby for their conflict. They ignored her and closed the gateway while their battle continued.

“Our deal is done. Release me.”

“Germ gods are in no position to make demands. We have our quarry, and we will use you to get back to your world once we have had our revenge.”

“You will stay with us.”

“We will be free of this place. We taste your world on him. It is to our liking.”

Their conflict was so terrible, nearby shard realms of existence were destroyed as they moved their battle through dimensions. Kali realized this creature never had any intention of letting them go home. That was why she told Shango to leave. She had no intention of staying.

Turning to the gathered spirits she raised her arms and shouted to them, “You seek revenge. Only Kali Yuga can give you that. So I release her to you. Gain your revenge!”

Kali’s dance moved faster, her four arms became eight, and she directed the energy of her death magic through the souls of those damned to be in this place, and they reflected her.

Her spirit blades appeared in their hands . And this happened again and again until there were hundreds of her and the contagion continued, spreading until there were thousands. Each shone with a dark energy that disrupted the very air around them. Slowly they rose into the air and their spirit blades sang out their song of retribution and revenge for their unjust deaths thousands of years before. Tiny stars of black fire began to arc through the air.

The gathered spirits by the thousands turned their energy toward the ancient gods locked in battle. They were not aware of the dark stars surrounding them. Each deity was consumed with its hatred of the other. The crazed tentacled god bound his brethren in a smoky embrace. The dark invader sliced away tentacle after tentacle, even as new ones replaced them. Their struggle destroyed the remnants of the great civilization around them as if they were nothing more than tissue in the path of a hurricane.

Then lead by Kali, the People exacted their revenge. Each hurled itself at the Great Old Ones. Their fiery trail slashed through tentacles and Dark God alike, and their screams of rage were palpable. Once ignored by the Great Old Ones, but no more. Now their rage was given form and a world quaked as bound spirits rose up against their slayer.

Kali Yuga smiled and continued her dance as the sky lit up by the fiery stars of souls enraged. And the Dark Gods knew fear.

* * *

An hour later, a portal opened in the wreckage of the street. Shango stood exactly where the last portal had closed. He knew if she was going to appear, it would be where the walls between worlds was weakest. He could sense it coming, a tell-tale rippling of the space-time at the Crossroads. When she came through she was in her Kali Yuga aspect, her demonic eight armed form was disheveled, battered, barely conscious but still alive. Even in this state, her power was evident, a wave of fear swept the street and people shuddered unconsciously.

Shango reached her in a single step and grabbed her. She slumped into his arms and her Yuga aspect was dispelled. And it was a good thing too. She had a hard time telling friend from foe in that state. He did not know what happened over there, but if she took on this form, she didn’t make any friends.

Ever the optimist, Shango picked her up and laughed. “Look at that! They sent her home, after all. She really doesn’t make for a good hostage.” It wasn’t the first time Shango questioned his wife’s incredible powers. The gathered heroes turned to the wreckage and could hear the sounds of attack helicopters and other military vehicles approaching the scene.

The Shrike looked at Shango, his visor opened, “I know this part. Skipping out from the police was my specialty, remember? We aren’t on the side of the angels anymore. We’re fugitives. That means we run.”

Gunner looked at the Occultist who was already weaving a teleportation spell. “Only for a little while longer, then we are going to fix this. I am tired of running.”

As the military approaches, the people of Paragon City streamed out and quietly blocked the path of the oncoming forces, slowing them significantly.

Gunner looked on, saluteed them and with the spell completed, they faded from view. The bystanders quietly dispersed. The military commander breathed a sigh of relief. Gunner was an American hero. She and her team had saved the world a half a dozen times, at least. He had to follow orders, but he didn’t have to rush.

“They got away again, sir.”

“Don’t you hate when that happens, Lieutenant?” The old colonel smiled, lighting a cigar.

My latest novel is available in print and as an ebook!

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Our latest highlight is black supervillain Malice! Read all about her here

              Our ship dropped out of the Gate inside of Mariovel space. Corvan battlefleets patrolled the area but acknowledged our IFF transponders and allowed us to continue into the starsystem. The red supergiant of the Mariovel system had two smaller red companion stars which were only visible if you knew where to look.After programming the coordinates for the Mariovel homeworld, the WarpRunner jumped and we emerged in the shadow of the goliath of planets. A great banded world of luminous clouds of various shades of pink, gold and browns.

              "Look into the upper hemisphere of the planet. There should be a Great White Spot. That is the space they have create for any visitor's habitation during the planetary refitting. Everything is on schedule, they say the planet will be ready in less than a year." Sitting in the pilot's chair, I was trying to strike up a conversation with a cool and prickly Diplomat of the Hegemony.

              "I understand they produce only one planet a century here?" He was trying to be polite, but I could tell he really didn't want to talk to me.

              Rising to the challenge, "They accepted a contract to create a new Earth for us at the request of the Hegemony's leaders."

              "Your records indicate you live on Galatea II, Captain. What's wrong with Galatea II? It has been the cradle for a majority of the Humani species now for almost a thousand years." He sounded smug as if his reading my records gave him an advantage.

              "Nothing, except it belongs to the Botani who look like trees and don't allow us to make anything out of wood, because everything made of wood might be their kin. Not to mention their symbionts creep me out with their strange cuteness. Other than that, they have been very hospitable. One thousand years is long enough, I think. I hate the idea that we are indebted to the Squids."

              "Captain, I didn't know you were anti-Corvan."

              "I'm not. I just don't like them. You do remember they destroyed the Earth and ten million other humans who did not leave during the Exodus."

              "Ancient history at best. Yes, I have been Transferred three times and am nearly a thousand years old but the Mariovel and the Corvans have a relationship that goes back nearly ten thousand years. So if you hate the Corvans, remember The Mariovel love them, and keep your opinion to yourself."

              Our class six WarpRunner was fitted for the Mariovel home-world and had the adjusted beacons needed to land in the protected regions. We would need a ship designed to interact with the powerful gravity technology of the planet.

              As we approached their home-world, we were struck by its sheer immensity. It defied anything we knew about planets. Three times the literal size of Jupiter, it was surrounded by a gaseous cloud layer similar to most gas giants but that was just part of the story. There were several cloud layers, all the way to the surface of the planet. They had a gravity technology directed from the planet that changed the gravitation constants, allowing visitors from other planets to come to their world and live comfortably during the process of planet crafting. The Great White Spot is their equivalent of a landing pad for visitors.

              Eighteen thousand miles in diameter, the Great White Spot moved slowly in comparison to other storms on the planet. The Mariovel were one of the races of the galaxy's races that had never been conquered or even effectively attacked. Their world was inhospitable to almost any other form of life. The incredible storms that swept the surface with their two thousand mile an hour winds and their crushing atmospheric pressure were able to destroy all but the most durable alien ships. Add the super-gravity of its planetary surface, and most forms of life simply cannot negotiate it. There is also one other aspect which most invaders remember. With a gravity well as deep as theirs, unless the Mariovel allow it, no one who lands, leaves.

              We would not be going to the actual surface, though. We would be stopping at the third layer where buoyant fungi forms were floating through the atmosphere of the planet and were used as a base of operations inside the White Spot. With the surface area of two thousand Earths, this was little more than a tiny way station on their vast planetary surface.

              "Remember, keep your gravity harness active at all times. It keeps you in sync with the artificial gravity generators and in the event of any failure will protect you with an artificial gravity field. Otherwise you would be crushed instantly by your own weight. It also protects you from the atmospheric pressure, so you never want to be anywhere outside of protected areas without it. This is the most dangerous environment you can imagine."

              "I read the brief, Captain. I am aware of the risks."

              "As a diplomat, I understand you have traveled to hundreds of worlds, and your dossier says you have even been to Nalrud, rumored to be the most dangerous world in the Hegemony, but there, it's the lifeforms that are dangerous. Here, even a tiny mistake can be your last. I just wanted to keep you safe Diplomat Sinian."

              "Your concern is noted, my good Captain. Let's get to the surface and to our work."

              "You will be meeting with Chalguldan and what he calls the Planet Crafters Enclave, Division Nine."

              The Diplomat is wearing a Humani standard hardened bio-suit. It has been encrusted with his sigils of accomplishment and awards of state from almost three dozen worlds. The suit is designed to emit information into the infrared and ultraviolet spectra to allow the Mariovel to detect them and with a standard mediasphere connection, they will be able to interpret their meanings and other galactic standard information.

              My own suit is far less ornate, indicating only my rank, my modest accomplishments and my suitability for classified information management. I would be allowed to go everywhere the Diplomat went and able to witness any transactions. It is not necessary for a Diplomat to have a Humani witness for such transactions but it has been a tradition for millennia.

              As the bay doors open on the WarpRunner, we are immediately assaulted by the heated air and the strange smell of the planet. It has a strong ammonia smell, nothing dangerous, but certainly unpleasant. There are other odors as well, one that reminds me strongly of cinnamon, and the other of baking bread. There is quite a wind blowing as well, and it takes a moment to adjust to the force of it. Nothing our suits cannot handle.

              There is a white spongy material on the ground, and then I realize it's the living fungus of that makes up the Spot. I could see buildings off in the distance, also made out of the same materials. There are dozens of different ships here from a variety of the galaxy's races, each negotiating for their own planets or resource development of one sort or another. The sky is white with light from the overhead clouds and at the edges of the of the fungus, I could see lightning flashing as the two weather patterns met. I can see flying creatures in the distance, but remember reading they were actually like everything else on this planet, gigantic in size, only their great distance belied their size.

              Leaving the ship, we are met by a Mariovel in their foglet form. As near as I understand it, they are capable of three different states of being. One is an energy form they use to repair ships when they are part of a Corvan battle fleet. The other is a large and mostly rocky form suitable for almost any environment. In that shape, they are mildly radioactive so they don't tend to use it in the presence of more organic beings. This cloud form is the only one that is not radioactively toxic to any of the Humani tribes. My suit indicates that we are in the presence of Chalguldan and I marvel at the beauty of this state of being.

              Zhe, using the polite non-sexual pronoun, appeared as a starlike collection of nano particles orbiting a larger central mass about the size of an apple. The cloud was about two meters in diameter and twinkled with both internal light and light reflected from the environment. When it spoke, it emitted light that was interpreted by my suit's interface system and translated. I also spoke Galac Six naturally having been trained with biometric and computer languages nearly a hundred years before. I was certain the Diplomat did as well.

              "Greetings are given to esteemed guests."

              "Greetings are accepted from our esteemed hosts."

              "We are available to communicate with you regarding your request for a new planet."

              "Where will we be meeting with the Planet Crafters Enclave, Division Nine?"

              "They are all here. We will be visiting your world in progress. Will that be acceptable?"

              "We will be able to see it?"

              "Yes, Diplomat. But you will not be traveling to the surface, we will just visit to the planetary growth matrix. Understand what you are able to perceive of our technology will simply be representations your minds will be able to conceive of. Do not be distressed if you cannot understand all that you see. Please stand by for transportation. Please inform us if you have any social, moral or cultural taboos regarding quantum teleportation."

              "No Chalguldan, we have no issues with quantum teleportation."

              "Please make yourselves ready, we understand carbon life forms experience disturbances or mild physiological upset with quantum teleportation."

              "We are ready."

              And just like that, we were gone from the spaceport and suddenly what looked like the Earth hung in the sky above me. It was a beautiful as anything I ever remember seeing. There were blue oceans, polar ice glistening from the background light of the Great White area.

              The Diplomat tried not to appear even remotely affected by what we were seeing, but my mouth hung open for several minutes.

              "Esteemed Captain, your biological signals are in disruption, are you in distress?"

              "No, Chalguldan. I am simply in disbelief. This appears to be for all intents and purposes, the Earth as I have seen it only in videos and three dimensional simulations."

              "It is your world, physically in every way possible. Using the information gathered by the Sjurani when they rescued you from your world, we have created your planet accurate to dimensions of less than one meter. With the genetic support of the Sjurani we have filled your biosphere with animals and plants taken from your world. The Sjurani gathered entire sections of your planetary ecosphere and stored them in stasis, until we could study them and recreate them."

              "You have done so much for the project already, Chalguldan, why are we here now in renegotiation?"

              "Diplomat Sinian, we have studied the land masses captured and found environmental pollution at a catastrophic level. Your land masses, water, air and creatures were completely saturated with a variety of environmental poisons that could have only been created by primitive manufacturing techniques."

              Sinian looked up at the planet and marveled at the organic looking structures linked to Earth Two. These great limbs-like structures appeared to hold the planet in place and as the structures reached the planet, they branched out again and again like capillaries surrounding the planet in a fine mesh. However in scale, those fine appearing cables were likely to be hundreds of miles wide.

              "Several of our older brethren were questioning the wisdom of returning your species to a planet that even though it was destroyed through no fault of your own, your species would have made it uninhabitable in less than two hundred years. It has taken us nearly one hundred of your standard years to complete this project. Relatively speaking, your planet's creation has not been difficult for us. But understand, your species will not be capable of such feats for tens of thousands of years at your current level of technology. We would rather give this world to a species that is more appreciative of the wonder of a planet. The question of the Enclave, Division Nine, is how can you assure us of the sanctity of your world to your future generations?"

              "Chalguldan, I think our people have experienced a catastrophic loss and many of them would just as soon never return to the Earth. Many of us have already become part of the Second Diaspora and moved from the Toranor System into Hegemony Space proper. The Humani Tribes are very diverse today, in comparison to when your people received samples of our previous home."

              I found myself growing warm and uncomfortable as I watched the Mariovel's movement pattern grow more complex as if it were assessing the words of the Diplomat. I also notices clouds of other Mariovel approaching our position, pulsing in unison with Chalguldan.

              Sinian continued, his face intensely focused on the vistas slowly turning overhead. "In addition to Humans, we have Simians, Ceteacea, Hybrids, Machine-Kind, the Cyber-immortals and the Transferred. What caused our species to be myopic was our very short lifespans. I have lived fifteen times as long as my kind did back then. I believe we would be more likely to protect that which had been won so dearly and cost the lives of billions of our kind."

              Soon, dozens of Mariovel hovered over us and began exchanging elements from each of their clouds. Elements swarmed over us, around us, and soon we were in a sphere of moving foglet elements. As the elements began to swirl, they began to emit colorful light patterns. At first I thought it was a form of communication but I could find no useful patterns in it.

              Suddenly, Sinian and I were standing in a factory shoveling coal into a furnace. We were sickly and malnourished and every cough produced a black phlegm that seemed in endless supply. Smokestacks blackened the sky in every direction. Sinian collapsed and I carried him outside of the factory. We were taken to a local hospice area where he was pronounced with tuberculosis and only had a few days left to live. I stayed with him while he expired in agony.

              Night fell and we were suddenly wearing masks on our faces and there were deep walls on both sides of us. We carried primitive rifle weapons and were being sent onto a different battlefield in the dark. A cloud of smoke floated into our trench and my mask was not sealed properly. I began to choke and sputter and found my chest burning, searing with unimagined pain. Sinian tried to help me but I could not hear a word he was saying. Soon he is the only one left alive as the green cloud claims the lives of everyone around him.

              Then I found myself running chest deep in water, toward a beach, while exploding rounds rocked the ground in every direction. I was dragging Sinian. He had a wound on his chest and I was watching men dying all around me. It seemed to go on forever. We were forced to take cover behind large metallic X shaped objects as the shelling continued. We made our way up the beach but high caliber rounds ripped men to pieces, their anguished cries for their mothers, rang hollow in my ears, as I struggled not to join them. Sinian is struck in the head and I fall to the sand with the shock of his dead weight.

              I woke in a camp with a high fence wearing a striped uniform. Sinian was nowhere to be found. Everyone was sick and pale and nearly dead from starvation. The smell is terrible. It's the smell of death. The death of thousands. I struggled to rise and stagger outside. The light is so bright. I can hear others whispering and cowering. I saw men carrying guns knocking down a fence and Sinian rushed to me and offered me water. I threw up the water because it had been so long since I had anything to eat.

              We found ourselves in the middle of a rain forest surrounded by crude oil pits carved into the earth, while a multinational corporation extracted it without concern for the indigenous people who lived in the area. Sinian was a corporate worker while I was a member of the locals who was dying from cancer. Sinian spent time with me when his duties allowed it, but he could not stop what the corporation was doing no matter how silvered his tongue. We were both shot while we discussed the horrors of the what was happening and how we were going to expose the corporation's misdeeds.

              We watched as we slowly expired from starvation in what was called Africa as corporation's priced seed out of our families ability to afford it. Our farm stopped producing food and our families starved, one child after another until no one in our village was left. Wars around our villages prevented people from trying to leave sooner. We staggered out, last men standing to try and walk to a neighboring town. We starved to death in transit.

              We watched as the Sjurani spacecraft arrived on Earth and their great starships hovered over every major city. Humanity knew they were coming and followed their instructions to the letter. Sinian and I were leading the teams who gathered animals, plants and people from the North American continent. Every plant, animal, seed, flower, spore that could be gathered together was. Entire swaths of the planet were scooped up and taken away. Sinian and I wept as we were left behind on the planet, chosen by a random lottery. There were alien forces all over the planet. We picked up our weapons and went to defend our world. They overwhelmed our position and as they swarmed us...

              We returned to the Mariovel, their flying elements slowing and returning to their respective bodies. We were both weeping with the shock of each experience. They felt so completely real and each was as if I had been in everyone of those positions. As we gained control of our emotions, Diplomat Sinian stood up enraged and shouted "Chalguldan, that was hardly a fair representation of what humanity had done in their time on Earth. You painted us out as monsters who did not care for each other or the Earth. You ignored our arts, our culture, our best emotions, our greatest gifts to each other."

              "This is true, Diplomat. All that was good in your species was overlooked in this instance for a single reason. That which was good, did not destroy your world. Only that which was bad. Only that which showed difference where there was none, only that which created division when it should have created unity. Greed instead of compassion. Health instead of corruption. War instead of cooperation. All of what we showed to you was true, gathered by your own people. We simply moved through time to see it firsthand."

              "You mean those were not simulations?"

              "No, Captain. We placed you in the minds and lives of those people you experienced. Time and space are infinitely variable to us."

              Sinian sat down, placed his head in his hands and whispered "No."

              "Diplomat Sinian, are you sure?" I kneeled down next to him, the soft loam beneath me.

              He looked up at me, his eyes were bright and hard. "I said, no, Captain. I cannot see why the Mariovel should create a planet for humanity when we were so terrible to each other and the last one we had. In good conscience I could not recommend us at this time."

              "Chalguldan and the Enclave of Planet Crafters, Division Nine, I Diplomat Wells Sinian hereby respectfully request a temporary hold on the planet Earth repopulation project at this time. In the light of the information presented today. I would like to return to the Humani Tribunal to ensure we have a proper plan of development for our new planet, to ensure its long term growth and continued existence."

              "We are pleased to hear your decision, Wells Sinian. While the Earth would have been ready for repopulation in a year, another hundred years would give many of your indigenous animals time to spread out and achieve a homeostatic balance with their new environment. We hope in this time you will also convince your people of a way to achieve a more homeostatic balance with your new home as well."

              Sinian and I stared longingly up at Earth, her deep blue oceans and swaths of green and gold beckoned to us. I helped Diplomat Sinian to his feet and he seemed relieved to have made a decision he could live with. "What are you going to tell the council?" The Mariovel retreated into the distance and I saw Chalguldan flash a brief goodbye in Galac 6 before our instantaneous transmission to the spaceport.

              "The truth, Captain, the truth. The planet needed another century in the oven before we would be ready for it. We've got work to do. Take us home."

The Planet Traders © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved

Just working out some new properties as I get ready for convention season.. So here's the first preview .
of a concept I'm Trying to prepare a preview of for ECBACC:
Pencils by;
Jay Aquilera
&
Juan Frigeri

                         [b]        TOOL-BOI[/b] 
                        An Original Concept
                     Created & Written
                                       By
                     Robert Garrett@2010

Robert Garrett
Xmoor Studios
http://www.xmoorstudio.com
All rights and characters are trademarks of Robert Garrett for Xmoor Studios.

On December 31, 2010 at the stroke of Midnight around the world during celebratory events, hidden assassins burst into the room, killing world leaders and the worlds most powerful dignitaries, while at the same time the president of the United States was saved by man  who appears inside the White house with a message to President, a message that will spark an exploration of the secret layers of power in order to find what knowledge may have been hidden away - or what enemy may be finally willing to reveal itself…, introducing the remnants of an old civilization that was destroyed centuries ago slowly revealing secrets and hidden organizations, so intricately timed and managed….

In the shadows they whisper of men who don’t exist… Mythical assassins who play with the lives of the rich and powerful… They are the EBONATI… These assassins brought new battle tactics and philosophies of war with them

For Moser Sloane it means to have created the perfect assassins Guild… Reclaiming a forgotten heritage with a race extinct that was destined to conquer the world.

For A’ Meir it has become survival… Raised by killers, he chose life over death… For that he has been marked

The Ebonati operate primarily in the darkness a Covert guild of assassins that ingest ancient drugs within themselves allows them to jump to great heights, operate at super-accelerated speeds, and have superhuman strength.
The Nations of the world are in chaos. The Ebonati unleashed powerful drugs which almost crippled the United States. Then as the U.S. recovers, the world plays witness to the reappearance of an ancient African Tribe that few knew existed… The Wictonda nation has arisen and has begun to Conquer through the plans of their charismatic Leader Kali Mu’tu, the Overseer of the newly recognized Wictonda nation… Unbeknownst to most the Wictonda is the breeding grown for the Assassination Guild called the Ebonati… And they have laid siege to all of Africa.

“ My name is A’ Meir pronounced A’ Mir.., Names are important to people. I wish I knew my mine… Amere is the name I was given by the man whom I once called Father…, Father taught me everything about life… that paid for my education by the best scholars and tutors money can buy… The father who found amusement as I prowled the streets thinking myself a man plying my inherited trade of death to those who dared crossed my path… The father who taught me how to kill… Not just kill, but master every form of death, every nuance of action and reaction that could take a life.
The father who had lied to me for as long as I can remember… The father who proved himself just … Just a man… a vile… cold, calculating man who now wants to take the life he lavishly groomed and hoped to pass his torch…
I will never be father… For I have embraced life…And become a man… Yet there is one thing that I can not disavow that the man who was once my father left me… I am Ebonati… I am a TOOL-BOI”

"I went yesterday."

"I went out the day before."

"I don't care who went out, when. Put your guns on and get out there and bring back something to eat. I don't care what it is."

"Yes, Ma."

"See what you did, now she's mad at us."

"I didn't make her mad, you did."

"Anyway, food won't hop into the house by itself. You two get a move on. Get back before dark."

"Yes, Auntie." Ma's sister was almost as mean as she was.

We left the habitat by the back door, and after looking both ways we started down the vine and headed out of the park, into the city. It used to be called Philadelphia; back when stuff like that mattered.

"Did you pack everything?"

"Why do you always ask me if I packed everything, its not like you weren't standing right there, supervising."

 
"Last time we were out, you forgot the wipes."

"So, you were forced to use your hand or some leaves, why should I care, how you handle your business?"
"You suck."

"You ought to know."

"Be quiet. I hear something."

Whenever we go out, we are always very careful. There used to be lots of humies once upon a time, but after They came, there were a lot less. We can see the one closest to the main city. It sits outside of the city proper and sends its parts looking for food. 

Humies learned not to live in the cities if they wanted to avoid being food. Mama said once, cities used to be filled with humies but now, nobody with any sense goes there. That's why there is so much stuff still there. We don't tell Ma, but sometimes we go there and look for stuff. We learned how to avoid the plants and their critters.

"There it is. It's a cabbage-head." 

"I don't like cabbage-heads. We just ate one a few weeks ago. I'd rather eat my boot first 'fore I eat another."

 
"We ate our boots last week, so we probably shouldn't get a cabbage-head anyway, they be the makings of poor boots."

We let the cabbage-head wander off. They weren't too dangerous or too bright and noisy as all get out, so you didn't have to worry 'bout them sneakin' up or anything. They looked like a horse with the head of a cabbage. And they were about as bright.

Then we saw them. And we nodded. That was the target. Razorbacks. That's what mama called them when she taught us to hunt. Razorbacks were part of the Creature, a fast and dangerous part. They hated humies, too.

 
We waited cause there were too many to try and get one. They had six long legs and were really fast even though they were twice as big as a humie. 

"Why don't you watch 'em, while I catch some shut eye."

"kay, its gonna be a while." I liked it better when he slept anyway, its the only relief I get from his godforsaken mouth. We had taken a position near the edge of the city where a lot of the Creature's parts wandered looking for scavenging humies. There was a mild quakin' and I could see the Creature moving closer to the city. It must be real upset or real hungry, it moved a whole dozen feet today. 

There were still humies living in the city, we knew that cause we could see their lights at night, but the Creature did not have many 'spring that moved around after dark. There were a few, but not many. Humies tried to do their scavenging after dark, cause it was a bit safer than when there were hawkwings about.

 
After a couple of hours, the Creature settled down, mostly cause the sky was 'cast and it did not have any shine on it. The razorbacks started moving back toward the Creature. It was taller than all of the buildings near us. Mama said it was nearly five thousand feet tall and when they landed they changed the weather, killing humie by the dozens every second for years. She said something about spores, but I was never good with that science type stuff. My brother was much better.

One of the razorbacks turns and holds still. It starts makin' its supper sound and turning around. We duck behind the heavy rock wall and wait. It turns toward a building near the clearing next to it. A humie runs out and tries to scurry to the next building. The razorback supper sound grows louder as it turns to the humie, locks its legs and charges fast, faster than any humie could hope to be. 

The humie turns around and points a tiny gun at the razorback. Its pop does not even make the razorback blink. The razorback runs past the humie and its skin bursts with blood. It staggers and tries to keep running. The razorback circles and passes again. The touch of its skin rips the flesh off the humie, and after the second pass the humie falls down.

A second humie runs out, he is a bit bigger and is carrying a shotgun. But shoots too soon and the razorback does him in quick. 

"Get up. We got one on the hook."

"I was just startin' to have my favor dream and you ruined it."

"You wants some boots or not. You can walk barefoot for all I care, but I wants some boots. There ain't no better hide than razorback and ain't no better eatin' either. So shut up and get up."

We check our guns and make sure our chems was dry. No sense shooting if nothing happens. I don't want to tangle with a razorback with just my knife if I can avoid it. My brother is good in a fight but it just the two of us these days, so we can't afford to get hurt.

The razorback is so busy eatin' it doesn't even hear us getting close. We hid in the shadows of the building. It don't see too good and we know that having hunted them for years. It was slow going. Ma says no sense rushing if you get et by what you be chasing. By the time we are close enough to shoot, it was getting dark. We would have to gut, skin and carve before the biguns came out.

And then run for home.

As we approached, my brother covered the right and I covered the left, making sure there were no razorbacks hiding that we might have missed. They were group kin, so where there was one, there may be more. The long shadow of the Creature fell over us and we used the cover of its darkness and the setting shine, to sneak up just a few dozen feet from the creature. We aimed, making sure we hit it below the sack in its belly. That was the only part we could eat and we wanted to be sure we didn't just come home with boots. Mama would tan our hide.

We each had three in our shooters. They were hand-made from parts in the city. Three barrels, three chems. I shot first, making sure to hit it in the head. My brother shot second, hitting it in its hind brain. If you didn't get both, it could still trample you with its head shot clean off. We ducked back into the darkness to wait. We couldn't wait long with dark coming but it was always best after bustin' a chem or two. After ten minutes, we went to work.

"Hurry up, you got that sack yet?"

"Don't worry about me, you just get the hide for our boots."

"I am. I am going to get enough for mama to get a coat too. This razorback's skin is good." 

The skin was covered with a fine grade of spines, but they only cut you if you rubbed the wrong way or if the razorback was alive and pushing them up. Even though it was really big, it was delicate and slashed it food, bleeding it before eatin'. The spines and its leathery hide gave it a toughness that made for fine boots.

 
We loaded the sack and the hide into our ruck, and started making our way home. We had to pass by the river on our way back to wash off the blood before going home. No need to make it too easy to find us. The river was not too far off and we made good time.

We waded in quick-like and cleaned ourselves up. We could hear the wind shifting near the Creature and once the shine was completely gone, we knew the Bigguns was on the prowl. Picking up our guns at the shore, we started running back toward our tree. 

We were in too much of a hurry, when we heard a booming sound from the underbrush ahead of us. We had our guns ready, when two of the bigguns burst out, mouths wide open, spit flying everywhere. Each of us took one, I took the right, he took the left. We shot them straight in their mouths. Its the only spot on their bodies not covered in heavy armor. Each chem went straight into their brains and blew up from the inside.

 
We jumped over their bodies and kept running. Others would hear the chem and rush toward food.

We moved through the outskirts of what mama called a suburb. She learned all of this from reading. She said she taught herself when she was young and there were other humies to live with. It had been a long time since other humies lived with us, nearly thirty summers, give or take.

We could hear them coming.

Sounded like three, maybe four. All of the Creature's parts were fast and hungry. If mama were here, we would just turn around and fight, mama was hell on wheels in a fight, but since she hurt her leg a few summers ago when we were surrounded by razorback and hawkwings, she don't hunt with us anymore.

"What ya wanna do?"

"I hear, three, maybe four."

"We only got, a two chem between us."

"we could drop the food and get away, its slowing us down."

"If we come home without food, mama's going to eat us. I would rather be out here with them."

"Just keep running."

When we came to the park, we could see all of the Creature trees that had landed here. Mama said humies learned to kill the trees brains when they was little and we could live in them while they grew. The trees never got their own creatures when they did not have brains and humies learned to live in them and make homes out of them. We could see our tree in the center of the park but it was just too far, we wasn't gonna make it.

"We gonna have to fight, you know that, right."

"I reckon."

"You ready?"

"Don't miss."

"Have I ever?"

"Nope."

They jumped out of the brush and the earth shook with their landing. We dropped our ruck and had our guns out. One chem each. Four Bigguns. They looked so much bigger up close. When we stopped, they stopped. They had go have seen the two others we killed, and no one was volunteering to go first. We used that to get a few dozen more yards, by pointing at whichever moved toward us first. That wasn't gonna work too much longer.

"Biggest one first, on the right. 

"Then the one next to it."

"Got your knife?"

"Yep. Aim for the eyes."

We stopped moving, each of the bigguns with an armored head and a spike collar stood still. They seemed to know we were going to fight. We roared at them at the top of our lungs, and bared our teeth. The largest two responded in kind. And then they were dead. We dropped out guns. 

Pulling our knives, we rushed the next of the creatures while they absorbed the shock of what happened. While they had good vision facing forward they had to turn their whole bodies to see if something moved to the side of them too quickly. With six legs they could do that fast, but only if another one wasn't in the way. While they were trying to negotiate, we slipped to the side of the Biggun and stabbed into its eye sockets with our knives. We were covered in its warm eye jelly and blood and it reared backward knocking us aside with its huge head.

We landed on the ground, hard and our knives were still in the head of the Biggun that was running off into the overgrowth of the suburbs.

The last Biggun, turned toward us and seemed to sense our vulnerability. It stamped the ground and huffed. The tree was right behind us but it might as well have been miles away. With those six legs, he would be on us faster than ugly on my brother.

We stood up, determined to go down fightin', though without weapons, we did not have much of a chance.

 
I looked up at the Creature in the distance. It glowed with a green light once the 'shine was gone. It made it easier for its kin to find it. I could see three others in the distance, each standing still over a different part of the city. My brother and I had managed to live in the shadow of the things for thirty years before dying. 

"You ready?"

"I don't want to die."

"Who said anything about dying?"

"Between the two of us, all we got left is some harsh language."

We started laughing as the creature closed with us. We would do our best.

We heard a swooshing sound, like nothing we had ever heard before. We thought it might be a creature we had not seen yet, so we crouched low, so we could try to get up on the Biggun's back, over its snapping jaws.

And then there was the loudest boom I ever heard. Sharp shards of metal ripped though our skin and we were thrown from our feet. Chunks of Biggun landed on us. There was a crater where the Biggun was. It looked just like the 'rite craters from when the creatures landed all them years ago, only a sight smaller.

My ears were ringing and I was a bit dizzy for a second. I saw my brother was okay with little more than a cut on his forehead and some minor wounds on his chest.

"What were the two of you laughing about down there. Did you see something funny I didn't?"
"No, ma."

"Where are you manners at boys?" The voice was Auntie's.

"Thank you, ma."

"Now get up here and bring me whatever you managed to find out there. You did find something. If not, you bring up that blowed up Biggun meat. Its foul, but you can eat it in a pinch."

"We found something, ma."

"Razorback, your favorite."

"Did you bring me any hide? You know I need a new coat this winter."

"Yes, Ma, we got you and Auntie fixin's for a new coat."

When the smoke cleared we could see Ma looking down on us with some strange contraption on her shoulder. It was a tube with a handle on the bottom and had a orange tip facing down toward us. Her sister was looking out toward the horizon while she stared down at us as we climbed the rope toward the house. The tiny scratches we suffered wouldn't keep us from getting home.

When we got to the house, Ma kissed us while her sister watched the horizon. Then we all turned into the house and slid the ironwood door closed. My brother's arm had a nasty cut and Ma tended it while her sister looked me over and cleaned my arm and chest wounds. 

Both of them fixed our injuries with their medical kit placed between us, with the same speed and the same way at which we butchered that razorback, they were able to tend our wounds, one handed.

It had become second nature because we were injured almost ever time we left the house. We sat facing each other with our arms at our sides. Our huge broad chest was covered with scars from earlier surgeries after being in the field. A quick inventory and they were satisfied we were okay. Our four heads  and two bodies silhouetted in the internal green light of the Creature tree.

"You boys look a right mess, don't they sis."

"They sure do. A right mess. Nothing a meal and a good night sleep won't fix. Go lay down while we make supper."

They kissed each of us and we walked into the back of the house, which was carved out of the flesh of the Creature-tree and saw our bed carved into the wall of the tree. They had already turned it out and fluffed our pillows.

"Face down or face up?"

"Face up. These cuts on my chest hurt."

"Ow."

"Crybaby."

As we lay down and covered up with the blanket, he was out in seconds. We almost didn't make it today. But there is no place I would rather be than right here with my brother, big head and all. I could hear mom and sis walking in the kitchen doing their dinner-making dance, one hand stirring and the other keeping the pot steady, singing some old duet.

I pulled his arm under the blanket and lay back on my own pillow making sure I faced right. He always starts out turned left but ends up turned right in the night. 

He sleeps with his mouth open. I hate that.

Brotherhood © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved

The batleth’s blade came within bare inches of tracing a deep and mortal groove across Kenneth Dumaka’s throat.  The Section 31 trainee fell backwards, converting his tumble to the mat into a smooth roll which he used to hop back on his feet.  The Klingon came at Ken with another slashing hook that missed by a wider margin.  Ken leapt to one side, avoiding the attack at the same time thrusting the tip of his own batleth toward his opponent’s neck.  Swiftly, the Klingon looped his blade about, knocking Ken’s weapon aside.  Adopting a double grip, the Klingon’s arms shot out.  He tilted his left arm and the batleth’s left blade tip dug into the human’s pectoral, before the latter could execute a block.  Ken grimaced.  The wound was superficial, but it still stung like hell. 

Ken hesitated for a split second before deciding to go with a mid level lunge intended to gut his adversary.  That was his problem.  He was thinking too much.  And he realized that when the Klingon’s foot lashed out, crashing into his chest as Ken was rearing back to implement his maneuver.  Ken went down hard, the wind all but knocked out of him.  The Klingon’s wild eyed fierceness glowed with the expectation of a very imminent victory.  Ken was at a disadvantage and he knew it.  The Klingon would pound and pound  relentlessly on the downed human in a mindless frenzy.  Ken would’ve been able to block a succession of blows, but unless he came back to his feet, he was essentially helpless.  Sooner or later one of those hammering blows would have bypassed Ken’s guard and this exercise would be over.

Ken reached into his boot, pulled out a thin, sturdy knife and lobbed it at the rapidly advancing Klingon.  The knife’s blade sailed a short gap before planting itself just below the Klingon’s left eye.  The Klingon let out a pained roar.  Ken exploited his opponent’s distraction by swinging his batleth at ground level, sweeping the Klingon’s feet from under him.  The Klingon landed on his shoulder.  Ken raised his batleth and brought the blunt end down in a chopping motion upon the Klingon’s head.  The Klingon’s motion ceased.

Ken took a quick breather, then stood.  He bent down, plucked his small knife out the unconscious Klingon’s face and tucked it back into his boot. 

                “Underhanded means to a victory,” Jutakkh, Ken’s batleth trainer, declared.  “A victory worthy of a Romulan.”

                “A victory by any means is worthy,” Ken tossed back with unapologetic swagger.  Of course for all of Jutakkh’s talk of Klingon honor, Ken saw clear approval in the grizzled warrior’s eyes.

                “Spoken like a true Section 31 veteran.”

                Ken and Jutakkh turned to see Howard Jordan entering the training room.  The slim, gray haired man moved with a fluidic energy belying his advanced years.

                Ken straightened.  “Howard.  This is a surprise.”

                “Of course it is,” Howard chuckled.  “It was meant to be.  I like to drop in on my recruits from time to time, see how they’re progressing.”

                “You can read the evaluations for that,” said Ken, letting the batleth rest on his shoulder like a rifle.

                “I could,” Howard admitted.  “But words on a pad don’t pick up certain intangibles that could be gleaned from first hand viewing.”

                “Intangibles?”

                “Yes.  For example.  I witnessed you defeat an opponent in a batleth contest where you introduced a non-regulation weapon into the fight.  The fact that you brought the knife with you indicated your determination to achieve victory, even at the cost of fighting fairly.”

                “I suppose I did violate the rules,” Ken said with a so-what kind of shrug.  “Am I to be punished?”

                Howard beamed amusement.  He and the Klingon trainer exchanged grins. 

                Ken’s deep, ebon face concealed the blush underneath for what he took to be some kind inside joke at his expense.

                “No, Ken, you most assuredly will not be punished for your initiative,” Howard praised.  “However, you will be required to do one thing, and this is related to the matter of ‘intangibles’ I spoke of.  You see, Jutakkh’s evaluation will state in neat professional prose that you prevailed over your opponent using an unconventional tactic no other trainee has used before.  While I applaud that, I saw a shortcoming in your performance common to all trainees.”

                Ken allowed his shoulders to slump ever so slightly.  “Howard, I’ve only been training with the batleth for two weeks…”

                “It’s not your batleth training, Ken.   While recruits are trained in the martial arts of multiple species, we don’t expect championship level expertise, just a basic knowledge of various forms.”  The older man shook his head.  “No I’m referring to what I saw-or did not see- after your victory.  I’m referring to what I see now, in your eyes, that intangible that can’t be conveyed through a report.”

                A stifling blanket of self consciousness settled over Ken.  “What do or don’t you see in my eyes?”

                “No killer instinct,” Howard replied, frankly.   “That’s what I don’t see.  What I do see is the Federation.  Federation mercy.  Federation compassion.  Federation fairness.  Those things shine like a spotlight from your eyes.  If you want to operate effectively in Section 31 you have to purge that light.”

                “It boggles my brain how you humans ever fought us to a standstill given your pacifistic leanings,” Jutakkh ridiculed with a perplexed scowl.

                Ken took a few seconds to study the Klingon.  He couldn’t figure out how it was Jutakkh ended up in the Federation, in the employ of its most secret intelligence arm.   The only information Howard offered was that Jutakkh was a disaffected former officer in the Klingon military.

                Hell, Ken thought.  If I was living in the Klingon Empire I’d be disaffected, too.

                Howard gestured with his chin toward the unconscious Klingon.  “I want you to kill him.”

                Ken frowned and cracked a smile, hoping the old man was afflicted with a bout of strange humor.  “Kill him?”

                When Ken saw no humor in the old man’s suddenly frostbitten eyes, his face sagged.   “Wait…I don’t understand. I won.  What’s the point of killing him?  That’s murder.”

                Howard glanced at the Klingon trainer.  “Exactly what I mean.  Intangibles.”

                Jutakkh exhaled a harsh grunt of agreement.  He snatched Ken’s batleth, walked over to the downed Klingon and cleaved the latter’s skull with a ferocious, well delivered stroke.

                Ken gasped aloud at this display of cold premeditated violence, provoking a disdainful snicker from the trainer.  “He yelps like a distressed crone over the demise of a holographic program. What will he do when confronted with an opportunity to butcher real flesh and blood?”

                Ken’s heart thumped madly as he watched his holographic opponent dematerialize in a digital haze.  He shared Jutakkh’s sentiment.  What would he do if faced with having to kill a real enemy in such a manner?

                Another hologram of a batleth-armed Klingon materialized in the training room seconds after the ‘dead’ one vanished.

                Jutakkh returned the batleth to the trainee.

                “A few more drills should purge that light,” Howard commented, ignoring Ken.

                “Either that or the darkness of death will claim him,” said Jutakkh.    The two moved off to the side of the room, leaving the middle occupied by Ken and his new, photonic opponent.

                Ken stared at the trainer.  “Jutakkh, what are you talking about?”  His eyes flicked to Howard.  “What does he mean…?”

                The hologram charged.

                Ken threw up his batleth to block the incoming blow…

Binghi attended Montego Bay Elementary school on 4th street. It was the year 2086. He was eleven years old now, and coming into his abilities. While waiting for his Papa to cook coconut lamb stew he decided to practice the "balancing" lesson from his fourth period mental physics class. He had already finished his homework, and changed into his playing clothes on the rug. If he could keep the papaya from falling this time, maybe he could finally impress the shy girl from Morocco.....

"Agent Smallpox is down. I repeat, Agent Smallpox is down." 

"Check your data, have your human centers report in. We have heard this before, it is possible that you're wrong."

Commander Rhinovirus stalked inside the cells of the throat of the head of the CDC. He could not believe what he was hearing. First polio, now smallpox. We were slowly winning the war against Nature's most insidious agent, Man. At least until that last news report.

At first I did not believe it. Agent Smallpox had been our best agent for the last twelve thousand cycles. No Agent had the killing potential, the transferability, the lethality and the overall fear-causing capability that Agent Smallpox, The Maker, bless his viral core, had. 

Then, in the human year 1975, they boasted they would be able to prevent the spread and could eradicate Smallpox. They had a systematic program that would effectively render smallpox extinct everywhere on Earth. Another creature brought to extinction by the hand of Man.

There were only two samples of smallpox left in the entire world, as far as we knew,  the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta, and a Russian facility in Siberia. We had tried numerous times to free them. Tried to cause technicians to become sloppy in their work, tried to get terrorists to liberate them, to no effect. 

I have infiltrated the head of the CDC but he is so strong-willed, I cannot get him to even consider the liberation of the virus. I have convinced him it should not be destroyed, in the event of a spontaneous outbreak or perhaps if a weapon cell were to be initialized by a terrorist group. Unfortunately, weapon cells do not report in, so we never know if they have been destroyed or are just waiting to be released.

Ten thousand years ago, mighty smallpox ravaged entire villages with his pustule causing variola virus. Single handedly he is thought to have killed over five hundred million humans. Few diseases could bast such an amazing body of work. Whipping through villages, spreading like wildfire, killing in days. Those were the days. Man had a healthy respect for disease back then.

They feared us so much they named gods after us; Pestilence of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Nurgel, Lord of Disease, the Nosi, spirits of plague and sickness. They believed their gods dispensed disease among them as a punishment and so did nothing to stop their spread of the disease. They did not understand how we even worked until that accursed "germ theory" idea came about. 

We had been successful in suppressing the idea of germ transmission for centuries. The Hindu texts, the Atharvaveda whispered ideas of causative agents and they even developed means of killing many of our earlier diseases. But we eventually slew them and their ideas fell on deaf ears until 36 BC when 'On Agriculture' tried to preach it again. The author died of a fever three years later. Then the ideas of germ theory stayed hidden again for nearly a thousand germ-filled years. Those were glorious times. 

Then the Moors in their 'Canon of Medicine' posited that clothing could carry infectious agents. Dark days, even while the Black Plague roared through Europe, the seeds of our destruction were already being planted. We were too greedy, to eager to spread, we were not cautious enough and while we devastated the world, we did not destroy it; and man persisted. By the sixteenth century,Girolamo Fracastoro and his ideas of seed-like entities that could travel for miles was the final straw.

Anton van Leeuwenhoek, curse his cells, was the first to document our existence with incontrovertible proof. After that, each idea of how we moved how we worked came faster and faster, soon mankind realized we were everywhere and fought against us in every way possible. But until the discovery of Penicillin, bless the Maker, curse the Maker, man had little recourse for most major diseases and bacteria our primary agent, still ruled the world. 

After Penicillin, our forces demoralized retreated for a time and our greatest Agent Bacteria, found nearly everywhere, and on nearly everything, had been all but defeated. This lead to the rise of the virus to the leadership of disease in our struggle against mankind. Bacterial was relegated to the role of second line commander along with fungus in our attacks against the food supplies of man.

Today the war has taken a new tone, something we don't quite understand, where they try to contain us, weaken us and use us to develop immunity to us. Imagine the horror of being a virus too weak to fight and being decoded and turned into an antibody, an enemy of the state, aiding and abetting. Nothing more tragic than a virus-turned-serum.

We have begun a shadow war now. Since humanity does not seem to be trying cure disease today, only treat the symptoms, we have opted to work on bringing bacteria to the forefront by creating antibiotic-resistant bacteria and placing them in their medical facilities. While their immune systems are weakened, we strike, giving them MRSA, tearing into their flesh and killing them while they look for care. We are getting back our mystique as well, striking without warning, killing mercilessly with things like flesh-eating bacteria and we have learned to turn the media to our benefit, so you can hardly surf the internet without a picture of MRSA or flesh eating bacteria showing up. Propaganda is a powerful tool for our side. 

Our shadow campaign includes STDs which were once incredibly powerful, now they attack the immune systems, wearing down the new breed of healthy, well-fed humans. They sit inside their bodies until they have a moment of weakness, being spread by the young and ignorant, until they are everywhere. Even now, Agent Herpes believes it has infiltrated half of the humans of the civilized world. Not deadly in and of itself, it is a vector for other more dangerous agents such as HIV.

The old standbys still have a place, Diphtheria, Hanta, Ebola, Malaria all do their part by staying out there, working in the shadows waiting for mankind to weaken, to get too far from his technology. To forget he is part of the circle of life.

"Continue on your protocols. I have a meeting with a pharmaceutical company today. They want to tell us how we can manage the symptoms of HIV and ensure the continued economic success of the medical-pharmacological industrial complex."

Humanity is a terrifying creature. It is resilient, intelligent, capable, resistant, durable and deadly. If it weren't so damned big and ugly, it would make one hell of a virus.

A Private Little War © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved

Stephanie Mehta woke Thursday morning to her clock radio in her tiny apartment in the Russian city of Moscow. Little more than a room with a kitchen and bathroom, she shuffled around slowly until she got her bearings. She was a diminutive Indian woman in her early thirties, with clear skin, long hair and and full lips. Her mother always wondered what was holding up her grandchildren when she had a daughter as beautiful as she was. Just another thing they had to fight about. 

Her Russian Blue, Fedya, hopped up onto counter and nuzzled her, releasing a tiny squeek, indicating his hope for breakfast, sooner than later. She nuzzled him back, and stroked him absently while she tried to remember what there was to eat in her apartment. She knew not to look in the half-height refrigerator, because she had not had anything fresh enough to require refrigeration in quite some time.

The tiny markets on the outskirts of Moscow had been bringing in less food in the last few years. Farmers were complaining about reduced harvests and no one seemed to have any idea why the crops were getting smaller and smaller. Stephanie had taken to growing potatoes in the corner of her apartment from the eyes of earlier generations she had scavenged and had been successful in managing their growth. Her apartment did not have much, but sunlight was in abundance.

"Sorry little one, it looks like potatoes again." His tiny reply seemed resigned to potatoes and he ate them with vigor. "I promise to bring you something that looks like meat from the hospital tonight."

Stephanie washed up quickly trying not to use up her allotment of water for the day. Water shortages were becoming all too frequent since she came here eight years ago to start her residency. She opted to come to Russia because so many of her people started moving north as the rising sea levels drove many Indians into Rangpur. Her mother suggested she move to Russia because of the growing economic prosperity there.

She had since informed her mother that economic prosperity was relative. Yes, Russia was doing better in some ways, and worse in others. For example, India had more doctors but Russia had more hospitals. If she didn't hurry she would be late for her shift. Fortunately she lived in a barracks arrangement right next to the Municipal Hospital No. 15 and it only took her fifteen minutes to walk across the overpass into the main hospital courtyard.

The hospital was busy, people everywhere, babies crying, staff bustling about trying their best to tend to patients. As she danced through the crowds, patients touched her white coat and asked her questions. She tried not to stand still lest she be overrun. They needed to go through the brief paperwork at the desk before they could be seen. She would see as many today as her supervisor would let her.

She was technically a full doctor but he had been reluctant to sign off on her paperwork because it kept her with him here at Fifteen. She would have been upset if she didn't love her job so much, even with the lack of resources, the constant rush of patients, the government interference or any of a number of other issues. She wasn't just a doctor, she was a healer, she wanted to find out how to help as many people as possible.

Ekantika Das, was her last patient of the day and she agreed to take her from her supervisor, Helmut Baum, who had been on for three days straight. Mrs. Das looked tired, strained. She was probably borderline malnourished and dehydrated like most people were these days. The rains had been lest frequent and the summer was one of the hottest on record.

"What brings you in, Mrs. Das?"

She begins tentatively. "Doctor Baum scheduled me to come and see him a few weeks after my miscarriage." Stephanie had looked briefly at the record and saw that she had three miscarriages in less than two years. Each happened earlier and earlier during her term.

"I would like to run a series of tests to see how you are doing and when I am done, we will see what we can do. Do you still want to have children?" Many women if they find they cannot carry to term these days opt to just give up.

"Yes, desperately. My husband and I work as part of a collective on the outskirts of town trying to turn older buildings into hydroponic structures to supplement food output for the greater Moscow area. We are recently wed and would like to have children since neither of us is getting any younger."

"I understand, these tests will be take less than a week, so I will send you an email to schedule your visit."

"Namaste, Doctor."

The rest of the week was uneventful and there was even a slowdown at the hospital. Patients were always reluctant to come to hospitals these days since the number of cases of MRSA had risen in the last twenty years. Over-use of antibiotics had caused the rise in the resistant disease strains. People needed hospitals more than ever but were reluctant at the same time with the risk of a catching a nearly incurable disease while in the hospital.

Later that week, when she got the test results they were unusual but she could not put her finger on it. She went back and checked Dr. Baum's records. He had made some notes about fertility issues in several of his patients and kept working. Something about it seemed strange to Stephanie. There was a momentary lull so she went down to the primitive records databases and made some soft queries using the records of the female population of child bearing ages at the hospital. After a few dozen questions, she made a startling discovery. The number of births at the hospital and in the area in general had dramatically dropped, far below the statistical average. She thought she had done something wrong and double-checked her queries.

These numbers could not be right. This would be a thirty percent reduction in live births in less than a ten year period. Stephanie was tired. She assumed there had to be a mistake and would run the check from home once she got settled.

#

Fedya was enjoying his purloined sirloin and wrestled mightily with it. It was mostly scrap from the senior doctor's kitchen but that mattered little to him. His gusto gave Stephanie a warm glow while she studied the data now from the fourteen nearby hospitals.

She couldn't understand why no one had noticed it before now, but the more she looked at it, the more she could see the scale of this issue. But she would need more information and likely some corroboration with some colleagues, possibly in London. With the new civil war in the U.S. she wasn't likely to get much data except from the neutral states like California or Oregon. So she prepared a datapackage for a variety of hospitals and sent it off. Immediately, she received an instant message.

--IM--

GreenMachine: You are in danger.

Dr. Mehta: Excuse me?

GreenMachine: There is not much time. Can you meet me in an hour at this netaddress? .

Dr. Mehta: Who are you?

Greenmachine: This address is secure, but you cannot be at your apartment. I have slowed the trace but they will find you in twenty-four hours. Pack a bag. Now hurry.

Dr. Mehta: I can't leave my cat.

Greenmachine: Then take him with you but for god's sake hurry. Now get to the coffee shop and we will give you further instructions.

Dr. Mehta: I have no intention of leaving home on the say-so of some unknown IM.

Greenmachine: You have discovered a reduction in birthrates in the area hospitals you work in. You have checked this against local hospitals in the Russian datasphere. You find the information able to be confirmed with an 87% accuracy. Tomorrow you will receive data clusters from your points in London, New Delhi, Mexico, Canada, Brazil. You will see that this trend or worse had happened across the globe. How am I doing?

Dr. Mehta: How do you know this I did all this?

Greenmachine: GO TO THE COFFEE SHOP. NOW.

The IM client connection vanished and she sat up in disbelief. Putting her datakey into her pocket she grabbed her nightbag and packed two changes of clothing, her level 1 Medical ID and all the money she kept in the house. She barely spent any so she should have plenty of money available.

She dropped Fedya off at a friendly neighbor with a generous bribe of her latest potato crop and some cash in the event she is gone longer than a few days. Fedya complained the entire time until she gave him his favorite squeaky toy. Dame Romanov agreed to take care of him. She has always liked him and said he would have plenty of mice to keep his belly full.

When she got to the coffee shop, the terminals were empty because it was near midnight. When the late shift came on the place would fill up, but that would not be for another hour or so. She sat down and put on the wireless earbuds sitting in the sonic cleanser.

As soon as she plugged in her datakey, a video image appeared. The man sitting in the video was in a laboratory with a single tech working in the background. He was wearing a full biosuit so his face was obscured, but she could see this was a real lab with real equipment, not a stage. "Doctor, you have discovered something Consanko does not want known. Birthrates all over the world are declining due to the interactions of a genetic manipulation called 'suicide seeds.'"

"This technology was designed thirty years ago as a means of controlling food production on Earth. Seeds were being designed to fail to produce a new generation of seeds so Consanko would get to be the provider of seeds as it cornered the market on the genetic seed materials all over the planet."

"Once they had patented nearly all of the food crops on the planet, it gathered the genetic materials, mapped the genomes and proceeded to alter the seed products to ensure no seed would be produced by the resultant plants. People would have to pay every season. Needless to say, Consanko grew fabulously rich."

"As scientists had predicted monocultures would be a problem when blight, insects or disease struck, but Consanko had variants it saved for that occasion and their wealth continued to grow until this very day. But I noticed there was a corresponding effect in animal populations that ate feeds created from these plants. They became increasingly sterile. You have now learned the other secret. That it is affecting us as well. Slower but just as effectively."

The lab tech in the background seemed to be working hurriedly. The man in the front of the display, held up a picture. "See this face, memorize it. He is the person you are trying to find. When you look through our upload you will find he knew about everything. Maybe he can help you find the answers you are looking for."

An explosion rocks the room. Smoke starts coming from the ventilation shafts. "We don't have much time. That explosion was a trap set up in the ventilation. They won't try that route again. Our suits will protect us from the gas, but in a few minutes, they will up the ante and we won't survive. Our upload is on its way to you via our intelligent agent. We are destroying any trace of our information to give you as much lead time as possible. Doctor, we are sorry to involve you in this fashion but we had lost hope that anyone would notice. We were going to leave our data to an intelligent agent and hope the first person who found it was as good as you are."

"What do you want me to do?" The sight of an arc cutter coming through the armored door showed their attacker's progress in the attempt to gain access.

"We want you to stop this. There must be a way to reverse it, some way to introduce our reproductive viability back into the species before its lost completely. Our predictions say in 30 years, humanity and most animals will have lost any possibility of reproduction."

"I am not a geneticist. I wouldn't even know where to begin." Mehta was feeling frantic as she watched the smoke grow thicker.

"We know you are not a geneticist but you have other friends. It will take a team to solve this problem, the same way it took a corporation to cause it. We are out of time, Doctor. Godspeed."

End of transmission. End of recording. Agent instructed to your keycodes. All resources are at your discretion.

This was a recording? "Agent, accept vocal input."

Accepting

"How long ago did this recording take place?"

"Two standard days ago."

"Then how were they answering my questions?"

"They weren't they anticipated a variety of responses, I provided the interface adaptations. Doctors Lawrence and Cloverfield have been dead for forty-eight hours."

"How much time do I have before they come looking for me?"

"All temporal estimates are still accurate, as your information requests have been slowed but not stopped. In 24 hours, you will be apprehended, likely by Interpol or the Soviet police as an enemy terrorist. Recommendation: leave the country."

"And go where, pray tell?

"To the coordinates left by the doctors."

"And where is that?"

"The coordinates on the map indicate a location inside the remaining Amazon jungle. It will require one, possibly two major airline flights, one charter flight and likely six to ten hours of ground travel. You should begin now."

"I need to go back to my apartment. I am not ready for this."

"That path is not recommended."

"Let's see you stop me. Agent offline."

Stephanie did not know what she was seeing but she was certain this was some elaborate practical joke. The shaky camera, the explosion, the shutoff of the camera seemed just too dramatic. When she got back to her building, there were several emergency vehicles sitting outside. The lights were off, so whatever it was, it was already over. They were taking several bodies out on stretchers and one of them had a grey cat lying on top of it. It looked like...

"Fedya!" The grey cat jumped down and ran through the street up to Stephanie and she suddenly realized who one of those bodies was. Showing her badge to the paramedic, she asked "Show me the bodies."

When they pulled the covers back from the first one it was the delicate body of Dame Romanov. The second one was Helmut Baum, her boss, her sometimes lover, her friend. He had been shot in the head. Seeing him that way was a blow, like physical thing to the system. She grew lightheaded, and fell back into the arms of a strange man, who had come up behind her.

"Do you know this man, Doctor?" The man's Russian was impeccable and he looked like he could be a policeman, or inspector. His hands were strong, like a vise, and he literally held her up from falling out. He was a giant, wearing an ill fitting suit, as if they could barely find anything to cover him properly. He had a strong face, young looking, but his eyes were hard, sharp, they glittered like flint in the streetlights, the eyes of a man who had seen too much.

"His name is Doctor Helmut Baum." He was in apartment 17. Her apartment. Waiting for her. She said none of these things.

"I am Inspector Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin and I have a few questions for you. The first is where have you been for the last few hours?"

“I was at the coffee shop for the last two hours. Helmut was at the apartment waiting for me to get in. He had just come in from his shift. Can I sit down, Inspector?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you know what happened?” “They appear to have been assassinated. Do you know of any reason they might have been targeted?” Piotr had his own reasons, but he wanted hear her’s first

“No, I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt him. He was a good doctor. He did not have any enemies.” But Stephanie knew it wasn’t true. She had logged in with his address a few days ago, because he was logged in and had a superior clearance. The first traces would have been on his account.

“I am going to have to take you into the field office for questioning, Dr. Mehta. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Can I go to my apartment and put my cat there? Will the police allow him to stay at the scene? If not, can I put him with another neighbor?” These questions came boiling out all once.

“Yes, of course, you can leave him with another neighbor. I will wait right here until you get back.” Piotr shook out a cigarette and lit up as she moved toward the apartment building. The police had already canvassed the property, whoever they were, they were very good. They left no clues, no casings, no signs of forced entry. An inside job, perhaps.

The emergency vehicles pulled off after twenty minutes and she had not returned. He put out his third cigarette and went into the building. She was not at her apartment, but one neighbor did have Fedya. But he said she had left nearly twenty minutes ago. So she knew where to drop the cat, and used the remaining time to get a head start.

Touching his datapad earpiece, he spoke into his mastoid comm, “Agent, put a trace on her medical ID at all the local airports and any recent taxi pickups. Do not alert her to the flags. Just follow and report.”

“Request activated, flags sent out. Will notify.”

Piotr got into his car and headed to the Moscow airport hanger. Sometimes technology is no match for a good hunch. When he got to the airport, his Agent had already found her booking a flight to South America. It was quite a distance for a woman with nothing to hide and very little luggage to pack. He decided he needed to see what was really going on.

“Agent, book corresponding flights, inform Command of itinerary. Log it as active investigation. Inform pilot of intent to carry firearm onboard. Clear security checks.”

“Acknowledged. Activity in progress.”

This is just to ensure her safety and my curiosity. I have not been out of the country for a while, I am sure South America is lovely this time of year. She sat in coach the whole time reading. He was not sure what it was, and did not want to risk having his agent read over her shoulder so he took this time to catch up on his rest. The only thing he could think of was smoking a cigarette the whole flight until he fell asleep. Where could she go?

#

When the plane landed, he knew he would have to confront her. The next leg of the journey was on a small private plane with only twelve seats. It would be hard to remain inconspicuous. The heat was terrible, and the humidity was worse. He took off his jacket and remembered he did not bring any change of clothing so he was going to have to get something local first chance he got.

His training as a KGB agent instantly came online once he landed. There was four hours between the landing and the smaller flight. He took that time to hunt around in the airport for vendors of more local attire. It did not take long for him to find some more comfortable shirts, slacks and a bag to carry his gear with. A pair of sunglasses and a white hat completed the ensemble.

Now, a bit more comfortable, and armed with a selection of local toiletries, he cleaned up, changed and was able to get to the airport runway with plenty of time. The doctor had managed to clean herself up, but it was obvious she had not slept on the flight over and was in need of some rest now.

There was also a man who got off the plane from Russia. He noticed him at first and thought he was just a tourist. But the coincidence of him waiting for the same plane made him more suspicious. He also had the movement of a trained fighter. He walked on the balls of his feet. He kept his hands clear of his pockets. He sat with his back to the wall and facing the entire area.

Piotr tipped his hat forward and slumped his shoulders. The man’s gaze passed over him, stopped momentarily and then moved on. He was looking for something, but Piotr did not know what that might be. Thirty minutes before the flight was due to leave, the small plane landed and taxied into the runway. A crew came out to refuel and inspect the plane. The pilot chatted with his relief and then the preflight was underway.

Suspicious man, began to move closer to the doctor and she did not seem aware of his approach. Piotr also moved closer, sitting behind the two of them, hiding behind a magazine. He sat his gun under his bag in the chair next to him.

“Dr. Mehta. I am going to have to ask you to come with me. British intelligence.” The man’s accent was certainly British, but there was something strange about it.”

“Don’t you have to show me some ID or something?” Stephanie asked. She had a look of intense skepticism mixed with real fear. Something was definitely wrong and she was completely out of her depth.

“Just come with me, miss and we will sort this out in the customs office.” The “agent” reached out to grab her arm and then move up close to her. He whispered something, and Piotr knew what it was. He had a handgun pressed up against her back.

“Excuse me,” Piotr stood up and in his thickest Russian accent asked, “Do you know what time our flight will be leaving?” He was certain they would have almost no chance of understand what he was saying.

“Sod off. I am busy with the lady.”

Piotr took off his hat and held his hand out to Stephanie. “My name is Piotr. And you are?” He could see the recognition and relief in her eyes. But he tried to transmit the idea that they were not out of the woods yet.

“Stephanie. Stephanie Mehta.”

“And your friend?”

“Her friend is telling you to mind your bloody business, Russian.”

“Or what will happen, you will make me eat some bland chips and tasteless fish from your country? Perhaps some of your beer that tastes like piss? My cat makes a stronger brand of beer in his litterbox.”

Whoever this fellow was, he was not a member of British Intelligence. He lost his temper far too easily. Likely a mercenary. He brought his gun out from under his coat and redirected it at Piotr. Exactly as planned. Piotr stepped to the right of the gunman’s hand and with a single maneuver, relieved the man of his gun, breaking two of his fingers. His aggressive wristlock held the man and brought his arm behind his back in a breaking position. It happened so quickly, almost no one saw anything at all. Piotr handed the gun to Stephanie and used his other hand to pat the man down. 

He wasn’t carrying anything else. His ID say is name was Howard Mason, but Piotr doubted the ID was real. Using his real Russian police ID, Mason was taken into custody and Stephanie and Piotr were questioned by the local authorities. Many hours later, it was called a act of random violence, nothing more. But Piotr knew better. It was time to get some answers from the beautiful doctor.

When they were walking back to the smaller plane runway, Stephanie started talking. Piotr decided to keep his request simple and see what she had to say. "It started with the bees. Dr. Sheppard said he noticed first when 'colony collapse' began to show up in the newspapers."

"Who is Dr. Sheppard?" Piotr interrupted.

"He was the leader of the genetic engineering teams who pioneered the last great plant genome modifications. His work created the super-yield wheat, the rust resistant potatoes, the suicide seeds, and the natural insecticides common to almost all plants today. He worked for Consanko for nearly thirty years."

"So your trip here has something to do with him?"

"I was reading the information on the flight here. It had been gathered and collated by two later scientists who were peers that reviewed his papers and were not satisfied by his safety information. They spent the last fifteen years refuting his notes about the "restrictive coding" built into the gene maps of his genetic constructs. It was their contention the genetic transform viruses and bacteria used to modify the plants was completely unable to be contained to that environment."

"So this brings us back to the bees, yes?" She looked at him incredulously. "Yes, I went to school once upon a time."

She continued. "yes, this brings us back to the bees. They moved pollen from the genetically engineered plants, first to their hives, then to other plants. Which ultimately moved them to us. The first signs of the suicide genes were the failure of some bee colonies as their queens became less able to reproduce stable colonies."

"So now you think it has moved into the human population?"

"Correct, if what I have discovered is true, the human race will likely be extinct in less than one hundred years, and unable to reproduce in less than sixty. Consanko has put their poison into the environment on every major land mass on Earth."

"Then this explains why people are trying to kill you, Doctor. You know too much. So I assume this means we are going to talk to Doctor Sheppard?"

"If there is anyone who knows what can be done to reverse this, it would be him."

The small plane captain started ushering people onboard, and the two of them sat in the back of the craft away from everyone else. Piotr sat his gun in his lap under his hat. Stephanie curled up next to him and leaned onto his shoulder and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Piotr, already rested, considered what he knew about corporate politics and industrial espionage and hoped this would end better than this sort of thing usually did. On a good day, only bad people died. On a bad day, everyone did. He checked his backup piece, and stashed a huge knife under his shirt.

The flight, leaving late in the day, arrived eight hours in the early morning, in the small town of Quito, Ecuador. Stephanie woke, still looking tired and out of place. She is just a doctor who has been told the world is coming to an end, Piotr, how do you expect her to look. The only reason you don't look like her, is your world came to an end, a dozen years ago. She reminds you of Natalie. Enough of that, keep your mind in the game.

Two men met them at the runway. Piotr knew them well. It had been nearly eight years since he had been here but these two were still working the rain forest gathering intelligence on the two dozen corporations currently fighting over what was left of it. Javier and Hector Morales, two brothers who worked with the KGB and whose loyalties were relatively unquestioned. They reported regularly, their intel was good, and they were able to keep their noses clean. This made them decent agents and Piotr did not tell them anything more than he needed a car and a decent local map. They didn't know what he needed one for and they didn't care.

"Rasputin, you look terrible." Javier began.

"How is that any different than normal?" Hector finished.

"It is good to see you two, as well. Did you get my request?"

"Yes, your dull Agent made the request and was very clear on what he wanted. Do you really still use the Kinataci 4000 model. It's nearly eight years old." Javier smiled while he teased Piotr. "My wristwatch has more power than your Agent."

"Serious Piotr, we have children here in Ecuador who have better Agents than that. You going to upgrade any time soon?" Hector handed Piotr the map pack and the car keys.

"And who is this lovely creature?" Hector muscled Javier out of the way as Stephanie approached the car after getting her bag.

"My name is Stephanie." She shook hands and took in the quaint little airstrip on the edge of Quito. The car was something from earlier in the century, she did not recognize it, and thought it might actually still use some sort of petrochemical to power it.

"Rasputin, you did not tell us you would be bringing company. Keeping the good things to yourself as usual." Hector smiled, something honest and real and Piotr realized they misinterpreted the relationship. Let it go.

"We have to get moving. When we get back we will share a beer or something before we take off. Thanks for the save."

"No problem. We are always here for you Rasputin. You saved our lives, once. We owe you."

The car was old and serviceable and started up immediately. Neither of them had much to say on the trip, it was hot and miserable and both had grown use to the dry heat of the Moscow summer. Here at the equator, the weather was always hot and wet, with seasonal showers every day at around eleven o'clock and three as the winds shifted.

The GPS on the map said they were nearing their destination. Stephanie realized this was likely the place because they started seeing a variety of hydroponic domes erected for what looked like miles in every direction. These domes were scattered within the forest canopy and seemed to be strangely porous, allowing trees to grow thru them even as they defined an area, each with a sixty foot diameter at the bottom. The dome appeared to be grown and continued to grow with the plants around them. Most were opaque but a few showed levels of transparency and people servicing the plants within.

The domes gave way to a series of smaller prefab buildings. There did not seem to be any security and a driveway with a number of other vehicles parked outside seemed to be a good place to start. They sat for a while, getting the rhythm of the place. Piotr made sure his guns were ready and scanned the grounds for anything out of place. Workers moving canisters on small flatbed trucks seemed to be the only road traffic. Occasionally, a larger twelve-wheeler would roll out or come back into the property.

A bearded man with greying hair got out of a vehicle near one of the campers and Stephanie noticed him. He looked very similar to the photo she was shown on the video clip. She tapped Rasputin on the arm and the two of them walked from the car to the prefab. When they got to the top of the stairs, Piotr entered first and the small man was sitting behind the desk with his gun drawn pointing at him.

"Please come in, your young friend as well. I have been expecting you. Have a seat."

Once they were inside away from the blistering sun, Stephanie welcomed the opportunity to take a seat. The sun seemed to drain the strength from your body. She did not even have the ability to maintain any concern about the firearm pointed in her direction. "Dr. Sheppard, I presume."

Shepard puts the gun back into his desk and points to a small table in the back of his very organized office. "Please, have some water, you will find you sweat quite a bit more than you think here." After they had a glass of water, and then a second, Doctor Shepard got down to business. "Did the company send you? I am surprised it took them this long to find me."

"No, sir, we have come here on the request of Doctors Lawrence and Cloverfield. They said you would know why we were here."

"Did they? Did they tell you what I was doing here?"

"No, they said you were no longer working for Consanko and you expressed some level of regret for what happened."

"Regret? No, my dear. Regret does not even begin to make amends for what I have done. I thought my work here might be enough. Would you like to see it? What about you, young man, you do not look like a scientist. If I were to try and read you, I would say a corporate hit man, government agent, possibly KGB or if they are still in existence, a CIA agent."

"Very good guess, Doctor. So why are you here? If you have no regrets for your work, why retire to this place? You were a very rich man, you could be living anywhere?"

"The answer to your question lies out there. Are you rested enough for the tour. It's the least you can do before you kill me."

The three of them stepped out into the terrible heat of the day and strode toward one of the domes. "I made these domes myself. I designed them to absorb and convert the solar energy into a cooling chamber. I have patented the technology and am making a tidy fortune in the equatorial regions all over the globe."

As they stepped through a simple series of flaps, Stephanie noted the vast difference in the internal temperature of the tent and by the time they were inside the dome proper, the temperature was less than fifty degrees, nearly an eighty degree drop in temperature. The air was cool, even a bit damp and over eighty percent of the sunlight had been dimmed making the area just a bit brighter than sunset. Dr. Sheppard touched a small remote on his wrist and the dome became a bit brighter as the spines of the hexagonal shapes began to glow with a blue light.

"I could make the dome more transparent, but that would bring in more heat, I want to wait until this dome has been harvested. But the polymorphic materials used in the construction of this dome are grown into this location. See?" He pointed to the edge of the dome and Stephanie could see the dome seemed to move into the ground. There did not seem to be any of the construction seams she would have associated with a constructed work. The material covering the hexogons was thick and a bit rough, and it had a scaled appearance. "The scales are a polychromatic material capable of converting sunlight into electrical energy. That electricity is what is used to cool the tent as the fabric absorbs the energy of the air using superconductivity. The energy absorbed is redirected by an underground organic network to a power storage facility which is used to maintain all of the vehicles and other power needs here."

"Why the strange design growing them below the forest canopy?" Stephanie asked.

"Because they are not visible from space," Piotr answered before the doctor could respond. "You said harvest, Doctor. What are you growing?" Piotr walked over to one of the trees and touched the strange formations growing on the trees and in the underbrush. "They look like mushrooms."

"Very astute. Indeed they are mushrooms. Mushrooms of my own design. What do you know about mushrooms?

Piotr looked at Sheppard, and answered. "I like them in my soups and on my steaks. Do I need to know more than that?"

Sheppard laughed and said, "No, I guess not. I hope you really like mushrooms young man."

"What are you talking about, Dr. Sheppard. I came here to discuss a means of reversing the birth reductions in the human and animal populations."

"Young lady, when we first began our studies and first genetic experimentations, we were young and thought we were going to feed the world. We thought we would work with companies like Canseko who would ensure our patents would be protected and we would be able to work with corporate backing. With their money and our skills, no problem of food production could escape us. But they had their own agenda. They rounded up seeds from all over the world, and began to patent the seeds. The seeds! Can you imagine? We were outraged. Seeds belong to everyone, we said. They laughed and called us idealistic and told us to get back to work. We would have less complaints when we were rich."

Dr. Sheppard found a chair near the monitoring station and raised the lighting a bit more. The two of them saw dozens of varieties of mushrooms, all over the room. They had been walking inside a very limited area. Once there was more light, they saw a rainbow of mushrooms, some close to the ground, other towering at three and four feet, shelves of mushrooms growing on the sides of trees. Some of them appeared to be the classic shapes but others looked like ocean waves, some like bushes, but they were all growing harmoniously, beautifully together. She had never seen anything like it.

"We went back to work, on increasing the yield of our newly patented seeds. And with the revolutionary work of Dr. David Lawrence, we succeeded beyond our wildest imagination. Every time we worked on a new patent, we felt like explorers, crossing boundaries that had never been conceived of. We became gods, Promethean in our endeavors, with no thought to the consequences."

Piotr heard the helicopter blades first. His training in warzones made him more alert. The others heard them soon enough.

"We don't have much time. I have been expecting them. I thought you were going to kill me. But now I realize they have been reading my notes. You see when we first started noticing there was a problem, they started burying my ideas. And when Laurence and Cloverfield's work began to show we were wrong and there was the possibility of genetic "pollution" they were killed."

"I thought they were killed two days ago." The look on Stephanie's face was undecipherable.

"They were. Two days and five years ago. I left the company in disgust and refused to do any more work once I had seen the error of my ways. The company refused to acknowledge my work, until recently. Now I suspect they want my help. The work we did was revolutionary and they killed the only two other people who really understood it."

"Then who sent me this message."

"I did." Dr Sheppard stared hard at Stephanie. "I need you to finish my work, here. I needed someone young and idealistic, someone who believed in a future worth fighting for. I need you here to fight for the present while I try and redeem myself and the future of humanity. I wish I had some words that would ease the years ahead. But I don't. Our pride has lead to the fall of our species. I hope I live long enough to make it right. I am an old man. A stupid old man."

"What about Helmut? What happened to him?"

"He had begun his own investigation. I did not find his data flags because he was pursuing it from a different angle. By the time I realized what he was doing, they were already on to him. I am sorry for your loss." Stephanie realized that she did not kill Helmut with her research. This only increased her grief.

The helicopters were close enough to begin landing and the dome began to vibrate with their approach.

Sheppard stood up and walked over to the two of them. "The pollution had spread to all crops everywhere. What Consanko did not release and does not want people to know, is all of their original source seed had been corrupted, as well. So they have been selling seed for the last decades, but the seed they are selling is the last of its kind from the last stockpiles of any seed on Earth. None of it has the ability to create new seeds. What you and your team don't find on your own, won't be found. Mushrooms will feed some of humanity but our conservative estimates are more than two thirds of the human race will die of starvation."

Sheppard looked up and tears flowed from his eyes. "I need you to finish what I have started here. Everything you need is here, all the command codes have already been transferred to you. I have done all of the heavy lifting. All you need to do is teach humanity what we have done here. You were worried about humanity not having a future in a hundred years. I am going to leave here and go with those men landing outside because if I don't, humanity won't have a future in less than ten. Good luck."

Suicide Seed © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved