As soon as they were out of sight of the Wine, Gerard communicated with Cam. He replied without delay and was pleased to hear the news. Now they knew exactly where to start, so neither he nor Frances needed to explore the caves any further.
They had dropped the Falconer off at a nearby public helipad, next to the main airship station on the northwest side of the city. It was a busy place where all sorts of small vehicles, mostly local helicopters, took off and landed. The Falconer was certainly something different from the usual vehicles, but among so many others, its silhouette was camouflaged, and its uniqueness went unnoticed.
The lights of the downtown skyscrapers were already illuminating the panorama in the distance, but the station's lighting system drew all the attention of this suburb and brought the shopping malls in the area to life. People were flowing in all directions, mostly employees returning to the suburbs where they had their homes. Had they not been under so much pressure, Gerard and Burton would have spent the night in this thriving, lively, vibrant place.
They crossed the street and headed straight for the large parking lot. They walked through the neat rows of vehicles until they reached the spot assigned to the Falconer. As soon as they were inside, Gerard loaded the file and began to study it eagerly; Burton settled into his beloved pilot's seat and contacted the parking lot controllers. He moved his aircraft slowly and steadily to the nearest short runway and waited until a small orange truck with a flattened fuel tank approached. The co-pilot inserted the hose into the Falconer's tank port and, after a short minute, pulled it out, dripping the golden liquid that fed it. Perhaps they would have enough sun to spare the extra load of fuel, but it was better to carry extra. After checking that everything was ready, Burton started the engine.
The night sky, already heavily populated with blimps and domestic vehicles, also greeted the Falconer, which immediately turned northeast and went on its way.
The trip would take about two hours, and Gerard knew he would not be able to finish the journal on time. The most important things they already knew, but it was imperative to find out as much as possible. He called Cam again. He agreed to take responsibility for the first half of the journal, leaving Gerard, who was more knowledgeable, with the second half, where he hoped the heart of the matter lay.
He returned to his file, leaving Burton in charge of time management, and immersed himself in reading, his copy of the Chronicles on his lap.
His section dealt with the aftermath of the creatures' actions and what Donella planned to do to make amends and protect the now exiled Chimera. She had written a summary of the events that had transpired during the three's stay in the Windy Range as part of her background.
The electric creatures, as she called the group of three, had never been prone to interaction with the human race, and so there were few social repercussions left in their wake. From the Mediterranean and even the cold and lonely environment they were drawn to, they never left the safety of their extreme discretion, discouraged from approaching human civilization by the incomprehensible chaos it presented to their alien sensibilities. But after a time in the cold north, caution gave way to habit, and curiosity overcame suspicion, and the three began to contact humans. The people of the region near Caliginous Mountain lived with the growing number of folktales and legends that mentioned the three, in one way or another. Incidents with humans had been few and random, subtle and vague enough for most to quickly forget, but obvious and relevant enough for a few to try to look beyond the story. According to Donella, her father, Thomas Robson, an itinerant anthropologist and historian, was drawn to the rural stories of the area because they were newly created, fresh. The few people who knew one or more of the three jealously guarded the secret, distrusting both the creatures themselves and outsiders. Robson had to spend weeks and months in solitude on the mountain to convince his Sami contact that he would keep the secret, but he would not agree to talk until Dragon, then the most sociable of the three, introduced himself directly to his father. His form, radiant and fluid, shot like lightning from the metallic rocks on the ground and toward him. It was the first time he experienced their telepathic voices. He stayed on the mountain even longer after that, and when he returned home, he came back just to pack up and take his wife and daughter with him, to move to Nordland and live with the local people. Thus began the alliance between the Robsons, the mountain neighbors, and the three.
Gerard stopped reading, astonished by Donella's explanations. Up until this moment, it had seemed to him beyond a doubt that Dragon's followers had gone mad because of his corruption and evil, but could the opposite be true? If so, Phoenix and Chimera would be just like him, and they were not.
He shook his head, determined not to dwell too long on this inconsistency, and returned to the journal.
Donella continued her narrative, jumping back to the time when the three could no longer be considered harmless, wondrous creatures. Chimera was the one who caused the most incidents among the people, though they were no more than the naive games of a child, playing mischief with the villagers' artifacts and animals; Dragon and Phoenix, who tended to disappear for weeks at a time, were the ones who posed the real threat. The former, who no longer had any qualms about assuming the fleeting image of a large, winged lizard in front of small groups of followers, wanted to abandon his anonymity and go out into the world, get noticed, and dominate as the humans dominated, something he claimed he had the right and ability to do. The second also had to mobilize discreetly and gather allies among the communities they knew, but his motive was different: to neutralize the plans of his former companion. The friction between the two and their respective followers attracted the attention of the rest of the country. It was the nineties and there were more than enough international conflicts to deal with, perhaps the only reason why these rural conflicts were dismissed without further interest: just another community guerrilla like so many others. Thomas Robson, Donella, and the Fenix allies worked hard to control the damage and keep the real reasons for the conflict a local secret, but then came what everyone saw coming: a fight to the death between the two leaders. What happened in that battle was anyone's guess, as they took their fight far from their followers, to the desolate and frozen wastes of Greenland, according to Thomas' research. What they did know was that Chimera had fought on Dragon's side and that Phoenix had lost. They never heard from him again after that day, and everyone assumed he was dead.
Gerard noticed a note in red below the body of the main text, apparently a postscript: “Remember that this was when Dragon's people began to write about their expectations. Append to the Chronicles.” “Of course,” he mused. He remembered how confusing his first review of the book had been, when he had understood its contents only as a fantastic tale with inconsistent narratives.
After Phoenix's disappearance, as he had read in the Chronicles, Thomas and his allies investigated ways to stop Dragon. As the months passed, Chimera herself reconsidered her position and joined the Robsons. Even with her on their side, they would have a hard time undoing what their enemy had done so carelessly and capriciously.
Donella described briefly and carefully the method used to subdue Dragon: a mechanism consisting of a series of ten concentric lightning rods, the operation of which they controlled from a remote computer. Chimera, whose betrayal was unknown to Dragon, warned him of a group of Phoenix followers marching into the valley, laden with weapons and evil intent. The creature had never known a weapon to harm the disembodied form of his race, so he attacked, offended by the audacity of these humans. He followed Chimera to a group of humans the Robson had sent to wait for them near the antennas. After activating the mechanism, their electrical energy was siphoned off and directed into the bowels of the earth through ten outlets, preventing any attempt at recovery. Chimera barely escaped before Dragon was subdued by the mechanism's inertial voracity. Thanks to his vanity and pitiful ignorance of human technology, Dragon was quickly drained of the energy that made up his body, leaving nothing but scorched soil and grass in its place. Neither the Robsons, nor Chimera, nor the locals could rest easily that day. Thomas Robson had perished in the attack, caught off guard by a charge from the rabid monster; and Chimera had not been slow to find the trail that gave away his escape. Not to have killed him meant failure, though Donella was secretly relieved. Still, she had to emphasize the necessity of his elimination, so that she seemed to be trying to comfort herself, to convince herself of the truth that there were no other options, and that her father would have seen it the same way.
Gerard imagined how the machine worked. Dragon was now, according to Art, in a computer, and he didn't know how that had happened. The creature was very up to date in technological matters now, and surely understood as well as the Robsons of that time the exact workings of the mechanism that had almost killed him.
Then, after rereading the last part, he wondered again what kind of creature Dragon had been back then, more than ninety years ago, and what could have changed it. Donella's dismay was clear and palpable in the flow of her words. This raw emotion was something that did not exist in the Chronicles. The book's version of Dragon's defeat was positive, sober, objective, and heroic; the journal expressed the opposite: heartbreak, bitterness, and confusion.
He looked at Burton and then at the cockpit window. They were almost there, less than half an hour.
He was no longer in the mood to read, affected by the journal's narrative. Still, he had to finish what he had started.
Finally came Donella's conclusions and her account of the damage. On the one hand, her personal comments on Chimera's decision to disappear under the mountain; on the other hand, her plans to cover the creatures' tracks. Her plan must have been thorough, considering how little was currently known about the three and the conflicts they caused. And the stories that remained were no longer believed by anyone to be but legends or children's stories, including the Robsons themselves.
The last pages of the journal were full of comments and lists with crossed out words and later additions, all related to Donella's next project: the Chronicles. The Robson Society, made up of family and friends, took it upon themselves to help her clean up the mess. As a result, she decided to dedicate her small secret organization to the preservation of knowledge left to die elsewhere, the protection of Chimera, and an endless vigilance dedicated to Dragon.
“Ah! We're almost there. I'll call Cam to get ready! Have you finished reading that?”
Gerard was startled: they had been silent for too long.
He closed the file and put the book on his chair. He walked over to the passenger seat and grabbed a half-full bottle of water from one of the lower compartments.
“Oh, Buck. I'm sorry I didn't pay any attention to you during the whole trip: I guess I got too hooked on the journal.”
“Oh, yeah, I didn't hear a whisper. Was it interesting?” he smiled.
“Intriguing, I'd say.”
“How?”
“There is not much more to add to what we already know, except for a brief explanation of the machine used to defeat Dragon. But her way of recounting the events, of commenting on her own impressions, is so intimate. It makes you rethink the conclusions you had already taken for granted.”
“About Chimera, you say?”
“Yes. And about Dragon and the complex story that lies beneath the summary and academic equanimity of the Chronicles. Apparently Dragon was a kind and social creature until he became obsessed with the idea of domination. And perhaps even then he retained those qualities. Hopefully the other half of the journal contains more information about this, I'd really like to read more of her impressions.”
Burton gave it a quick glance and returned to his controls. He knew that the world could not be interpreted in black and white, but he didn't care if his enemy meant well: his actions spoke for themselves and nothing else. He could not feel Gerard's fascination with Dragon's background or that of the other two monsters.
“There's the mountain, do you see it? You can ask Cam, see if he's found anything good.”
The Falconer flew over the valley, looking for the place where it had left his other two crewmen. The night sky was pleasantly clear, and Burton could see them sitting next to the camp. He landed carefully in the same spot he had taken off from and they climbed out one by one.
Cam picked himself up from the ground, dirty, sweaty and disheveled after a long day of physical labor. He dusted off his clothes and hands and walked over to say hello.
“Well, you're finally here. How's it going?”
“We figured out what kind of machine the Robsons used to defeat Dragon, Cam. A few other subtleties too, but nothing immediately practical,” Gerard replied straight, his arms behind his waist.
“How's it going, guys,” Frances greeted. “Cam said you knew how to get to Chimera, I'm glad! These caves are all the same; if you've seen one, you've seen them all.”
“Yes, we have coordinates! It's near one of those lakes over there,” Burton pointed to the horizon.
Cam chuckled and raised an eyebrow.
“First things first, guys, and that's stashing our remaining supplies. Then we'll go to the location.”
They put the stuff back in the Falconer and after making sure nothing important was left behind, Burton took off again.
The coordinates were displayed on the monitor and entered into the Falconer's navigation controls. The trip was short, five minutes.
They landed near the small lake marked in the journal and followed the direction indicated by their GPS.
Ahead of them was an elevation, a wall of rock dividing the plain. Perhaps an earthquake had caused it. Now the elevation extended along the entire north side of the small lake. There was a lot of matted, coarse grass and roots of all sizes falling from the top, obscuring the wall, but they could easily see that there were countless cracks and crevices behind it.
They cautiously approached the wall from the side, using their night vision goggles to scan every nook and cranny. The GPS indicated that they had reached their destination, and Cam approached the wall, scanning the surface and noting every shadow that appeared. Together they pulled and pulled at the tangle of grass that covered the area; they pushed and pulled at the rocks that had separated from the top of the wall and clogged the base. Clearly, the cavity before them was wider than the small cracks they had seen, and yet it was so small that they would not be able to enter upright.
“I'm going to assess the environment, hold on,” Cam ordered.
He put on his goggles and tiptoed in.
The place looked stable: there was no debris on the floor, and the walls were intact, with no flaking. He moved forward slowly until he could straighten his back and found himself in a high, silent cavern. He scanned the place and, except for a few troglodyte bugs, found nothing to indicate danger, not even bat guano. What he did notice were many blue-green stains and encrustations scattered across the rock. He was no mineralogist, but he guessed it must contain a lot of copper, since that is the color it takes when oxidized. Then he turned his attention to the floor and raised an eyebrow: it looked like part of the ceiling had collapsed, dropping a couple of huge chunks of rock over that corner. He could see more darkness back there, through the gaps between the rocks. That had to be the way forward.
“Of course.”
“Gerard, we're going to need explosives,” he reported as he left the cave. “I think it's safe, but the way ahead is blocked. There are two big rocks, up to the navel.”
“Okay, I'll be right there.”
“As soon as it's morning, I'll jump in,” Frances said, glancing sideways at the lake that filled the horizon. “Even if it's cold. I'm starting to feel like a hobo.”
Cam followed her gaze to the lake.
“When you're done, let me know so I can do the same,” he smiled.
Burton felt himself blushing a little and turned away from them, crossing his arms.
A short time later, Gerard appeared carrying a large blue toolbox.
“Okay. You guys wait here. Gerard and I will go blast these rocks.”
“Sure, take your time,” Burton replied, leaning back. He idly picked some grass without paying attention.
“We're not moving from here,” Frances obeyed.
Cam nodded and reentered the cave with Gerard close behind.
They reached the site without delay and went to work. They used an injector drill to drill into the rocks until they reached their approximate centers. They took two elongated bundles the size of their ring fingers and stuffed them into the drilled holes. A wire connected the charges to a tiny electronic controller. They walked away until they felt the wire tighten enough for Gerard to trigger the detonation.
The mixture in the packs was nitroglycerin-based, enough to shatter the boulders into pieces without compromising the cavern's structure.
They approached to inspect the debris and, after pushing aside the larger ones, left the passage uncovered. The dust made them sneeze and covered their goggles, but once it dissipated they were able to see what lay before them: the passageway extended forward with no noticeable upward or downward angle.
Cam stepped out again to pick up Frances and Burton. He led them to the threshold that Gerard was still calmly studying. He used his MT: limited capabilities, but sufficient for the small navigational measurements they needed.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Careful, guys. If you notice anything worrying, don't hesitate to say so,” the captain advised.
“Oh, God. This reminds me of the Sarzo tunnels, only it's cold here.”
“But I won't let you go alone this time, Burton,” Frances teased him.
“That… That was bad luck, not lack of skill!”
She laughed softly, amused but without malice.
“I know, I know. Come on!”
“What are you thinking?”
“That you have a lot of pride, even if you don't show it.”
“Of course, but it's not pride, it's self-esteem.”
Cam threw a pebble at them.
“It's a good thing we don't have to hide, or they would have heard us by now.”
The tunnel began to rise slightly to the east, toward the mountain.
Dirt fell on them from time to time and Burton's neck itched.
“Stop scratching, it could get infected,” Frances slapped his hand.
“That's why we have you, isn't it?” he growled, bringing his hand back to his neck.
“I'm flattered that you trust me, but I'm not a real medic, remember? My training is basic.”
He lowered his arm and sighed deeply.
“Sure,” he turned his head. “Whew, this is getting heavy.”
“The instrument says the tunnel angle has increased to 10 degrees,” Gerard said.
“And what does the GPS say?” asked Cam.
“If the tunnel continues in a straight line, we could reach the center in less than half an hour, assuming that's where Chimera is hiding.”
“Good thinking. We will stop every five minutes to measure the electromagnetic field and determine if it is increasing or decreasing.”
“I'll keep an eye out.”
The walls and ceiling of the tunnel became more irregular as they advanced. Perhaps this place had been a failed mine, because the shallow part of the tunnel was obviously more regular and gave the impression of having been conditioned for use. This part no longer showed signs of human occupation; it was a natural cave, modified by its animal inhabitants, whose footprints and scratches were visible in the dirt and rocks on the floor and all the way down.
Gerard continued to take readings every five minutes, but the number was the same each time. The angle decreased again until it was almost imperceptible, and the direction remained the same.
From one moment to the next, he found himself moving forward, staring into the darkness despite his night vision; dimly aware of why he was there, what he hoped to accomplish. He had a vague idea that he was not alone in the darkness, but he could not stop and look around, nor could he manage to utter a word; he could not hear his heart or his breath. Was he still alive? He thought about it for a moment, but realized that he felt cold, and felt a slight current running through his body and into his head. “Dead people don't feel anything,” he said to himself, “dead people don't think anything.
He stopped: in front of him stood a very tall man with his hands behind his back; his black, wavy hair fell behind his ears, short, disheveled, wild. His glasses were cracked, and he wore a dirty, bloody uniform, but he moved with a grace that no badly wounded man could retain.
His presence filled him with joy and horror at the same time. He tried to remember who it was.
Then he remembered in disbelief as the man turned to face him, with haggard eyes and a scowl that expressed nothing but ferocity and contempt.
“Scott?”
Around him, monsters began to appear, like those poor mutant felines in Sarzo, creations of his brother and his master.
Behind him, in the deep darkness, it sounded as if something gigantic was approaching with difficulty. He could feel it clawing at the ground with every step it took and how it seemed to gasp for air.
Panicking at the overwhelming presence approaching beyond his vision, he tried to move his feet with all his might, to flee immediately.
“You want to leave now? You wouldn't leave your brother at the mercy of the dragon, would you?” a deep voice said.
Gerard froze again, unable to look away from his brother, the monsters, and the darkness creeping closer. He could have sworn he saw a pair of red eyes quivering in the shadows.
“Do what you must,” the voice said again, “I'll hold him off in the meantime.”
The Scott before them grinned, showing all his teeth, but without changing his evil gesture; he stretched out his arms as if to present the horror behind him and backed out of sight. The animals followed obediently, while the other creature gasped in pain, voracious.
Had he been able to move, he would have screamed, but he could not even close his eyes.
Then he felt someone gently push him back. His general, Arthur Ness, was standing in front of him, pointing his revolver at the two red dots on the black that were about to reach them.
Finally, he closed his eyes and heard the shot.
He felt his lightness condense, become heavy. He collapsed to the floor and lost himself in the unconsciousness of sleep; cold or warm, he could not tell.
After a while he heard faint voices close to him. He felt a jolt and a slap on his cheek. When he regained consciousness, he was sitting in a corner, looking at the worried faces of his friends.
“Relax, everything's fine,” Cam assured him in a whisper.
“What?”
“The same thing happened to all of us,” Burton explained a little grumpily. “You first, then Cam, then Frances, then me. One by one.”
“What happened to us?”
He stood up and leaned against the wall, realizing that he was sweating despite the cold of the tunnel.
“We passed out.” Frances approached him. “You're pretty shaken up, but otherwise it looks like you're not hurt. Do you remember your dream?”
“Yes, although I think I'd rather not remember. How long have I been out?”
“A little over forty minutes, by my reckoning, about seven minutes longer than we were.”
“And did you dream anything?”
“Yes. We were talking about it when you woke up.”
“Turns out we all passed out at about the same time, and we all had crazy, unusually stressful dreams,” Cam explained with crossed arms. “In my case, I saw loose bits and pieces of my memories, pretty random; then they focused on the last few days, the whole Society thing and their war. I saw a Society soldier inject some chained people with something; they… underwent a violent transformation and ended up looking like the creatures we killed in Sarzo, mutilated and forgotten.”
“That sounds horrible,” Gerard muttered in a low voice.
“Mine wasn't so bad, I guess,” Burton continued. “I don't remember much, but at one point I think I was dreaming about the Dragon machine I was trapped in. What I do remember well was the end, in Glasgow, with you and Lucille. We were in the library reading and talking about the Robsons. Whatever happened to us, I guess I should be grateful it wasn't worse.”
Cam, still with his arms crossed, had sunk into some kind of musing.
“Mine was like that,” Frances whispered, “first random bits of my life, then a bunch of lonely old buildings. I felt like I was looking for something, like there was some imminent danger lurking, but I didn't know which way to go, just that I had to find that something… Maybe we should see a psychiatrist.”
“I guess I'm not the only one who thinks something strange is going on here,” Gerard said.
Suddenly a rat appeared between the cracks in the wall. It sniffed them from a distance, unafraid. It moved quietly to a corner where it settled under a crevice. Cam watched as it curled up in its hollow.
“No. What did you dream, Gerard?”
She sighed, realizing his reluctance to talk about him. When he finally had the courage to explain, he told them everything he could remember: the near darkness, the mutated critters, and the presence of Scott Wilker, or what appeared to be him. He told them that beyond the light was a huge, evil creature whose footsteps and gasps could be clearly heard. Finally, he said, Art came out of nowhere and shot him. Then he woke up.
“I think that was Dragon. Art said so,” he concluded.
“Wow. I won't be sleeping well for days,” Burton muttered to himself.
“What a trip!” Frances exclaimed. “Maybe it was caused by a substance in this cave: the oxygen must have high levels of some toxic gas… Maybe the MT can identify it, with the right module.”
“We'd have to go out to retrieve it,” the NCO complained. “We're so close now. Chimera must hear what we have to say.”
“Hey, Gerard, what are your readings?” she asked.
“Hmm. The electromagnetic field is at the same level I've been recording since we entered this place,” he reported despondently.
“It is not changing! Maybe it's broken and we can't use it to keep looking for Chimera.” She turned to Burton. “If we go to the Falconer now, we can take the two modules with us.”
“Oh, well. I guess Chimera's not going anywhere, is she?”
Gerard looked at the MT and the docked measuring module. Broken? The other components were working like a charm.
The rat that was still hanging around came out of its hole and sat very still, attentive to the movements of the four intruders. Cam hadn't taken his eyes off it for a second as he thought restlessly. Had the MT failed? Certainly not. It was something else, something difficult to explain because he had never experienced it before. He was pretty sure that their blackouts had not been caused by some substance in the cave. Could this rat be there, so calm and collected, when the air in the tunnel was harmful to them? It didn't add up.
“We are near the center of the mountain. We should inspect this place thoroughly before we return, take something more to analyze, make it worth our time.” Gerard approached a vein of copper.
“But if what's in the air is as toxic as I suspect, we could be risking our lives,” Frances frowned and sharpened her nose. “Although it's true that I don't smell anything unusual… It smells of dampness, musty earth, rodent waste; a certain itchiness caused by the metal of the veins and their rust. I know that the fumes from the rusted metal can be toxic in high concentrations, but I'd say this is a little quantity of copper and shouldn't affect us at all.”
“And the mold and rat poop aren't suspicious?”
“Maybe, Burton. Do you have any vial or bags? We can take a sample.”
“Well, bags, yeah.” He started digging around in one of his belt pockets.
Gerard had used his MT within centimeters of the glinting metal between the soil and the rocks. He squinted as he saw that the reading indicated a significant electrical current. It was so weak that when he touched the rock, he felt nothing but the coldness of its surface.
Cam watched as he moved the sensor over the other copper fragments visible in the area, touching them cautiously. He stood behind him to watch his readings, and together they went to measure some minerals outside this section. The way the reading went up and down in an almost insignificant way, counted in decimals, led them to conclude that the peak was where they were, in this section of the tunnel.
“I guess Frances is right and something is broken,” Gerard lamented. “Would you like to try the module in your MT?”
“Yes,” he received it and installed it on his tool.
The captain crossed his arms again: it was the same figure. The MTs were not broken. The module maybe…
His eyes rested again on the little rat that refused to retreat. It sat there and cleaned itself without paying any attention to them.
They hadn't seen any rodents all the way until they fainted; if anything, a spider or a cockroach. Even if there was nothing in the air, it was unusual to find the rat there, in the middle of nowhere and far from any source of food or water, when the shallowest part was obviously the best option.
He felt stupid just thinking about what he was going to do.
Gently, he knelt in front of the rat and brought the MT close to him. Yes, exactly what he suspected. He said nothing, just nodded with a soft, nervous smile. He stood up and his companions looked at him in silence, waiting.
“A rat.”
The animal stopped licking itself and looked up at Cam.
“C-Chimera. You're watching us through a rat?” He felt a little silly.
The rodent walked confidently to his feet; it raised its eyes, and he could have sworn it was pleased.
“What?” Frances asked in a whisper.
“Do you think this rat is Chimera?” asked Burton. His bewilderment was absolute.
“Can you communicate with us? Can you tell us if it was you who… knocked us out?”
They all felt as if they had stepped on an electrified wire; a current ran through them from the ground to their temples. It wasn't painful per se, but the shock caused Burton to fall to the ground and the other three to gasp.
It was me. Your bodies are noisy: it wasn't hard to find you.
The voice was so close that it sounded like a whisper in their ears, a soft, sweet, somewhat hollow voice echoing over their heads, inside their heads. They couldn't believe it.
Cam took a deep breath to keep himself calm and continued.
“Why did you do this to us?”
Because you were in my tunnels, and last time the humans tried to set up a mine. Too many would come, they wanted to take my minerals. So, I hurried to find out what you wanted.
“We don't want to hamper you, not at all. We've been sent to ask for your help,” he blurted out in one breath.
I found out, she interrupted him, I saw it in your minds.
Chimera's tone became regretful, and there was a hint of anger in her cadence, barely concealed by quietness.
Gerard, dismayed and not knowing which way to look, turned his eyes to the rat.
“Was it necessary for you to give us these nightmares?”
The visions were a by-product of navigating through your memories. When I learned what you wanted here, I focused on your recent memories and couldn't help but be violent, pushing the limits of intensity that can go unnoticed by humans.
“What a way to thank us for the effort,” Frances rebuked her.
I have caused fear, but you have also caused me fear.
“Okay, you didn't mean to,” Cam conceded. “But then you know what we came here to do and why. What are you going to do now?”
Phoenix is alive, Dragon is alive… And they're still fighting, after all these years. I'm happy, scared, and angry, all at the same time. But what can I do? I am like a feather in a hurricane. Your general and Phoenix overestimated me.
“You are supposed to know what to do! That's why Art sent us. What did you do last time?”
I deceived. I led him to Thomas Robson's machine. Then I ran away.
“Of course, it's true,” Gerard recalled. “The journal Lucille gave us tells the story. So, there was no fight between you and Dragon? You just went away?”
That's how it happened.
Up until the moment they heard her voice, more than one had harbored deep doubts about the creature's existence. The surprise had been mind-blowing, but with those words, a new uncertainty buried the wonder.
“But you can fight now, can't you?” Cam asked seriously.
Too long have I been here in the darkness. And I'm like a creature just awakened from hibernation: weak, numb, afflicted by the shortcomings to which I've abandoned myself.
Frances was frankly offended by Chimera's detours, though she more or less understood what was happening there. Not wanting to leave empty-handed, she was about to reproach the creature again when Burton caught her eye and shook his head. He clasped both hands together, trying to articulate his thoughts.
“We didn't come all this way for nothing, no. There must be something you can do…”
“You're right,” the captain continued, also struggling to deal with the disappointment. “You must do something: we need you. You failed to destroy your enemy before, but this time you have another chance.”
Are you suggesting that I commit to battle like this? Dragon would destroy me in an instant. Is this duty such that I should just let myself be killed?
“There must be a way for you to fight,” Gerard insisted, Chronicles in hand. “Even without your optimal strength, you would be an invaluable support, even if you didn't face Dragon. The bear that has just awakened is hungry and will eat anything to gain weight. If the book doesn't lie, you could do the same, in your own way, I mean.”
Chimera was silent for a few moments, but all four could feel her energy flowing from the ground and around them.
“The newly awakened bear devours animals and plants alike, even the cubs of females: it is a justified action. Shall I act as the bear to help my old friend Phoenix in his campaign? I have read your thoughts and realize that I am involved to the core. However, energy is costly and there is no guarantee that I will be able to stand up to him.”
Cam gestured vehemently.
“We would be immensely grateful for any help. We just need to know when you're coming or if there's anything we can do to help,” he offered.
Phoenix and the captain think this war is worth the price of energy, so I must oblige. Then I will follow the example of the newly awakened bear and feed with great enthusiasm until I regain my optimal state. It is a justified action. This may take hours, but no longer.
“You know where to go, don't you?” Gerard asked.
Yes, I've figured that out as well. Westward, past the great sea and the great island of Greenland, where Phoenix once fell. The desert, surrounded by storms and whitish lands. So different from this, my home. I will be able to get to Alamogordo, to your base, to get instructions. Then I will go to the city of Cinia, to Phoenix and Dragon.
“That sounds excellent!” said Frances.
“Yes, excellent… And if you don't need anything from us, we should go,” Cam said respectfully.
I'll provide for myself, Phoenix soldiers. You've already done what you had to do.
The rat finally jumped aside and into a corner; it sniffed at the group and ran far away: it went out of sight. The faint electric current around them faded gently, and they felt it flow from their heads to their feet and then out into the soil and minerals.
Silence fell again.
“Well,” the captain smiled, still nervous, “it's done. Let's get out of here.”
“She's nice, though she talks funny,” Burton said. “Brun said she was violent and impulsive, but she doesn't sound like that, does she?”
“Shut up! She can be offended,” Frances scolded him.
“Oh. Do you think she's still listening? Ah… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude!”
“Speak while you walk!”
They moved forward quickly, almost trotting, flooded with adrenaline and amazement. It was extraordinary and surreal, but there it was.
Chimera was not the infallible ace Art had promised, but their search had not been in vain: she was determined to join the war, to face her old enemy and work alongside the other. Neither of them really understood what she meant by feeding and regaining her optimal state, or how she planned to do it. Whatever it was, if it had to be done, they would not argue: the time was near, and they had to prepare as well.
They made their way back and out of the cave.
A glance at their communicator watches told them that it was past one in the morning.
They went to the Falconer without delay and without stopping to talk about Chimera and the other creatures: they had to inform Ponce immediately. Upon arrival, Cam went to the main computer and dialed Alamogordo. It would be after six in the evening there, so it was a good time.
The screen came on, showing a young operator.
“Alamogordo Base. Identification please.”
“Captain Cameron of the Fifth Squad, Discrete Operations Branch, SOD. License CC501” all in one thread, full speed ahead.
“CC501… Confirmed,” said the operator, serious as a grave. “What do you need, Captain?”
“Has Ponce returned from Kennéh?”
“The general has been here for four hours. Looks like she’s waiting for a report from you,” he reported with exaggerated smugness, looking at a monitor that was out of sight of the camera.
“I know, and we have it ready. Put us through, please.”
The man turned to another monitor and adjusted his headset. After a few words, he nodded, typed in a few commands, and the screen switched receivers.
“Fifth Squad,” Ponce greeted, “you've been out for two days, and I know you needed information on certain historical topics, topics that our general had also researched years ago… Could you tell me what you are doing?”
She looked tired, but surprisingly calm; perhaps that meant good news?
“Yes. We needed a historian to find out more about Chimera and the Robsons, the family of the author of the Chronicles.”
“I see. Well?”
“It is real! Art was right!” Cam exclaimed excitedly. “We found Chimera and she agreed to help us.”
Ponce, already serious by nature, furrowed her brow and looked over the four of them, full of questions.
“And where is she?”
“She needs a few hours to get ready. She promised to go to Alamogordo as soon as she was ready. But she can't defeat Dragon alone… It turns out that Art overestimated her, and she's not as strong as we thought. But she'll still be an invaluable asset.”
“So, Arthur wasn't delusional after all,” she whispered to herself.
“Though we couldn't really see her,” Burton admitted.
“What, you didn't see her? Then how did you…?”
“We heard her,” Gerard interjected. “We talked to her for quite a while. According to the Chronicles, they are electrical creatures that tend to flow with organic and inorganic matter depending on their conductivity. She spoke to our minds, Ponce, without any real sound.”
Ponce's eyes darted back and forth, undecided, suspicious.
“All right, I won't ask any more questions about it—when I see it, I'll believe it.”
“Fair enough,” Cam nodded. “How did it go with Kennéh?”
“As we suspected: the President knew nothing about our big problem. We met alone to discuss it, and he assured me that he would expose the infiltrator, or infiltrators, who kept them in the dark… I thought he was genuinely dismayed, so I asked him to spread the word about the war and his army's support.”
Frances was pleased and walked over to the screen.
“Wilker better watch his back.”
“I wouldn't get ahead of myself like that, Lieutenant Lard. Kennéh is a small country with a rather simple army. Perhaps the advantage they can offer us is minimal.”
“Of course, I'm sorry.”
Ponce was distracted for a few moments by the people working next to her. Their discussions could be heard at the front of her office; unfortunately, the microphone could not adequately pick up what they were saying.
Cam cleared his throat to keep her attention.
“We have yet to find a way to destroy the Society's computer mainframe. I don't think destroying it means destroying Dragon, but we can stop him from using it to monitor us and coordinate his people.”
“We've got a couple of strategies cooking here, and I'll let you know as soon as you get back… In fact, now that I know you're going to be here in time, I might even use you with the other DOB squads.”
“The squads?” they all shouted in unison.
Ponce smiled slightly, although she looked unsure.
“Yes, the three squads that were out were called to Alamogordo, and we also found some of the missing agents; well, they found us.”
“Some…?” Cam repeated.
She held his gaze and sighed.
“We recovered seven surviving agents from Diablo Two. No recruits made it…”
Cam looked at his teammates and their eyes told him how they felt: this fight had become personal, and they weren't going to back down now, no way.
“Include us in your plans: we'll be ready.”
“Just remember to keep a cool head, soldiers.”
They were in no mood to talk, but there were some things they had to report, so Cam raised his head again.
“Oh, Gerard found out how they defeated Dragon last time,” he patted him on the shoulder. “Partner, tell us what you know about this mechanism. We won't be able to fool him anymore, of course, but that doesn't mean we can't figure out how to exploit it,” he smiled a little.
Ponce tilted her face and nodded.
“Well done. Go ahead.”
She wasn't sure of anything at this point, but the strategies were lining up. Yes, she dared to hope for victory, regardless of the precariousness of their situation, the fragility of the thread, the truth behind the mysterious leader of the Society… Come morning they would be on their way.
She was ready.