It had been easy enough to tail the ship.
Roland Graves had hung back, using a pair of binoculars to keep the small vessel ever on the verge of cresting over the horizon ahead. At a distance of six kilometres, the other ship would need to be lucky indeed to spot the other boat trailing behind, even if they were actively on the lookout – and Roland doubted that they were. More likely, they were concentrating on their immediate vicinity, their focus on the ocean ahead of them.
Roland’s ship, the Rapide Heurt, had sailed like that for most of the day, after catching sight of the Iron Raven just south of the Torres Islands.
So far, his hunch had borne out. The targeted vessel had shown no sign of evasive manoeuvres, or any other action that might indicate they knew they were being followed. The pursuit had passed rather unremarkably – until the fog appeared.
Of course, Roland had heard all the nervous rustling about it… but this was the first time he’d laid eyes on it, and the sight of the immense fogbank arcing across the horizon had made his breath seize in his throat. Through his various connections, he had access to certain privileged information not yet made public, and so he knew something of what was lying in wait in the fog.
Even so, a job was a job. And anyway, the information he’d been given wasn’t even a certain thing – BARO was still scrambling to get more intel on just what the fog was, and what was inside it. They were throwing as many men as they could spare into the fog, and pitifully few were returning. Which meant that currently, all the ‘facts’ of the situation were about as rigid as the fog itself.
Or so he’d been told.
On the other hand, he doubted the crew of the Iron Raven had any idea what was in the fog, unless Rulio had become even more reckless since they parted ways.
When Don told Roland about this mission, it had been hard to say no. The chance to reunite with an old friend – well, perhaps friend was no longer the most appropriate term.
Just how long had it been since they’d parted ways? Roland cast his memory back.
It had been before the war kicked off, before Pearl Harbour. Truman had just been elected – for the third time – so it must have been late 1940. Roland shook his head at that. That was only a year and a half ago, but it felt like a different life.
Tobias had been with them, then. What adventures they’d had together – up until Rulio had gotten him killed. Roland struggled now to even picture Tobias’ face in his mind’s eye, or remember his voice.
The end of Tobias had been the end of his and Rulio’s partnership.
Only a year and a half…
Yes, it would be interesting to see Rulio again… although he wasn’t sure how he’d react when the moment came. What was he hoping for – reconciliation? Revenge? He didn’t know, and it made him wary.
Roland raised his eyes, shaking himself out of the daydream. The Rapide Heurt had reached the fog.
The waveless ocean under the ship was calm and glassy, the usually bright tropical water cast into a dark blue beneath the shadow of the towering mists. The Iron Raven had long since disappeared inside the thick grey cloudwall.
Roland held his breath apprehensively as they passed through the fog’s ephemeral threshold, and were engulfed by the shimmering grey vapours – but nothing happened. The Rapide Heurt just kept on cutting through the still dark water, though all sound seemed to recede, until his own resumed breathing seemed deafening to his ears. The air was damp and thick, full of salt.
He knew that there would be an island ahead, somewhere. Obelisk, it was called. The place a group of paratroopers had been sent to recon about a week ago, never to be heard from again.
Unsure of where the Raven had landed – and where the island was, exactly – Roland cautiously took the Rapide Heurt on a wide arc to avoid the island’s southern tip, before angling sharply back towards it to land on the middle of the island’s eastern side. His plan was then to cut across the island’s midsection to intercept the Captain’s trail, or failing that, to push southwards.
It was perhaps another half an hour of careful sailing before he was confident enough to swing the ship around towards the island.
As he cautiously brought the boat closer, the faint landmass in front of him took on ever more form and clarity, as though it were being created by the fog itself. The island materialised as a swelling mass of beach, rock, and jungle, expanding outwards and upwards to fill Roland’s vision, its deep browns and lush greens muted by the mists.
Roland glanced to his side, where two men now stood on the deck, their gaze fixed on the island. Both were wearing smart black military dress uniforms. Roland had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed Daziel and Jonny joining him.
He smiled. If they could sneak up on him, then they could sneak up on Rulio.
“Quite a sight,” he said to neither man in particular, gesturing his head towards the emerging island ahead.
The two men beside him stared silently ahead, saying nothing in reply. Roland couldn’t be sure whether their silence was from awe or indifference.
The pair of men couldn’t have been more different. Jonny was tall, solid, and muscular, like a kind of human boulder. He kept his hair cropped short – barely more than a buzz cut – and always wore sunglasses with pitch-black lenses that obscured his eyes. That was Jonny’s default expression – his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, and his mouth permanently set in a mysterious grin amidst his huge face. Roland never knew what he was smiling about.
Jonny’s counterpart, Daziel, was a wiry wisp of a man, as pale as snow. If vampires ever turned out to be real, driving a stake into Daziel would be the first thing Roland did. Like Jonny, Daziel constantly wore opaque sunglasses (Roland suspected this was just to copy Jonny’s style), and had straight shoulder-length black hair, centre-parted, that flicked around against his face whenever he moved.
Together they made an odd pair, but an effective one. During missions, Roland tasked Jonny with hefting around the Browning M1918 and generally providing the crew’s ‘muscle’ component, while Daziel’s etherealness made him the ideal man for any stealth purposes – often aided by his pair of knives.
“Where’s Akino?” Roland asked them. He hadn’t yet seen the last member of his crew.
“She’s still below decks.” Daziel answered, his voice a thin razor. “She says she wants no part of this fog.”
Jonny just stared at Roland silently, his grin beaming like usual.
Roland furrowed his brow, mildly annoyed. “Well, she’ll need to have a part soon. She’s not much use sitting on her bed.”
Daziel smiled, which for him was nothing more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “She’ll come around soon enough.”
Roland pursed his lips. “She’d better.” He swung the ship’s wheel slightly, making for a flat section of the beach.
Soon Roland had anchored the Heurt as close to the shore as he dared, and it was time to get ready to disembark.
He and his crew were Silver rank, which afforded them slightly better weapons than those crews still at Bronze; namely, the provision of a Colt M1911A1 pistol in place of the weaker M1903. The 1911 had a higher calibre than the 1903, albeit with one fewer round in each magazine. Apart from that, the personal loadout for Silver rank was the same as Bronze – two grenades, a first aid pouch, and a steel water canteen. At the ship level, the Silver loadout offered a Thompson submachine gun, in addition to the two M1 Garands and the M1919 Browning machine gun carried over from the Bronze loadout.
Altogether, not a bad equipment set – though Roland already had his sights set on reaching Gold Class. And if everything went well, this mission would be enough to do so. He wasn’t sure how he had been given a mission that directly interfered with that of another crew, but he wasn’t going to shy away from a decent haul of EP. No doubt there was already some interfactional rivalries going on at the Port Authority, with the new directive being such a recent thing. But he put a pin in that thought, returning to the task at hand. The precise nature of the Port Authority Directive Number Nine was a mystery for another time.
He mentally ran through his mission parameters again, remembering what Don had told him – there will be a girl, early twenties, in the crew of Rulio Horrendous. There is likely to be several other crew members with them. You will find them on their way to Obelisk Island, to investigate the paratroopers that went missing there. Bring back the girl, and leave the others unharmed.
It sounded simple enough, in theory – if he managed to keep Daziel and Jonny in check. He would just have to figure that out as he went.
It was time to go.
Making his final preparations, Roland ducked into the ship’s cabin, retrieved his revolvers from their case, and placed them onto the small dining table. They were two identical Colt Bisleys, chambered in .45 Colt and fitted with seven-and-a-half inch barrels. Their grips were a lacquered deep red mahogany, while the rest of each gun was forged from dark grey steel, heavy and ice-cold. A refinement on the classic Colt Single Action Army, the Bisley featured a longer grip, with a wider trigger and hammer that made them ideal for fast shooting. Roland was no savant with the pistols just yet, but he enjoyed the aura of competence and menace he felt they gave to him. He was a decent enough shot, make no mistake, and could hold his own in a shootout – but he wanted to continue honing his skills until he was the most proficient gunfighter in the Pacific.
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Roland carefully thumbed six rounds into each pistol’s open chamber, then spun and clicked it shut with a flourish of his hand, before sliding the pistols into the rigid black leather holsters slung at each of his hips. Then he picked up and swung the Thompson over his shoulder, donning his black officer’s cap as he exited the cabin and emerged back onto the deck near Daziel and Jonny.
Daziel was cleaning his knives, and had one of the M1 Garands across his back. Jonny was loading the Browning, and had the other Garand ready to go. They both looked toward Roland as he approached.
“Rules of engagement?” Daziel asked, sliding his long thin knives into their sheathes. Roland had already told them the rules of engagement during the voyage, but he knew Daziel was hoping there had somehow been a change that would allow him further opportunity for violence.
Roland glanced at him. “Still no casualties, unless absolutely necessary.”
Daziel’s eyes flashed, but he nodded.
Roland pointed at Jonny. “No casualties.”
Jonny just grinned at him, but Roland was sure he saw a slight nod of acknowledgement.
“No casualties,” Roland said once again, to further drive home his point. The two men didn’t look very pleased, but Roland was almost certain they would respect his orders.
Roland was feeling apprehensive, but there was no use in delaying.
Let’s get this over with.
He swung himself over the ship’s railing and dropped into the seawater below, which surged to just above his knees and was quite a nice temperature, although he wasn’t looking forward to carrying his sodden feet and boots around for however long the mission took.
Behind him, he heard Daziel and Jonny splashing down into the water as well.
Roland took a few paces forward, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder at the Rapide Heurt.
Akino was standing on the deck watching them with arms crossed, silhouetted against the sunlight shining down through the fog behind her. Her long hair flowed lazily in the gentle breeze. Roland’s gaze sought out her eyes, but they were cloaked by shadow.
Unable to gauge her temperament, he sighed softly, then turned and continued to traipse his way through the shallow water toward the beach.
Despite the ominous quality of the fog, the beginning of the journey passed uneventfully. The island just seemed like… an island. Ever since they had crossed the beach and entered the jungle, Roland had walked incautiously, shadowed by the other two, with only a persistent drizzling rain to keep them all company.
The absence of any danger had allowed Roland’s mind to drift, and the more he walked, the more he remembered. And the more he remembered, the angrier he got.
He was certain now that his reunion with Rulio would be no heartwarming affair.
The first sign of his quarry came when they stumbled upon a hill with three dead dogs at its base.
Roland inspected the bodies, which were all horribly mutated by some mechanism – grown to a huge size, and possessed of two sets of teeth. One was almost unrecognisable, and must have taken nearly an entire magazine of automatic gunfire head-on. The second had several smaller wounds which were probably from a pistol, and its head had been cracked open, likely by a coup-de-grace. The last dog had several deep stab wounds on its back, at the base of its skull. Each animal was surrounded by a wide pool of congealed blood.
Whatever had happened here, he was glad he had missed it. But he was confident that it involved the Captain.
There were two trails leading away from the clearing at the bottom of the hill, and the fresh mud made analysis of the tracks an exercise in simplicity. The first trail had four sets of footprints going into the clearing, then two sets going out, and then another set coming back in. The in-out-in set were made by boots significantly smaller than the others.
That’ll be the girl.
So, she wasn’t that way.
An investigation of the other trail revealed three sets of footprints, all going away and none coming back. Roland smiled, and started down the trail.
It was down this trail that Roland and his two crewmembers stumbled across their second disturbing vista of the day.
While the dead dogs had been gruesome, this new scene was far worse. In the clearing were a dozen or so flayed bodies, laid out in a ring around their empty uniforms.
So, here were the missing paratroopers, and the evidence of their untimely and grisly end.
Roland glanced around with a detached attentiveness, searching for any signs of a trap or still-present danger.
Everything seemed tranquil.
He had no particular interest in the paratroopers; his mission lay elsewhere. Nevertheless, Roland vigilantly walked the circle’s circumference, searching for anything of value he could turn in the next time he visited to Port Authority. It didn’t take long for him to notice that there were no dog tags among any of the clothes or on the bodies; Rulio must have already taken them. Roland quickly made a mental note to take them away from him – just as much to frustrate the Captain as for any possible material gain.
Roland refused to think about what had happened to the paratroopers. He knew Rulio wasn’t capable of doing anything fractionally similar to this, and by the state of the bodies and the long-dried blood, they had all met their end some days ago. The answer to what compelling force the paratroopers had encountered was simply too unsettling for him to consider.
He told himself that his mission lay elsewhere – that Rulio was his focus, not these desecrated men – then pushed down all his troubling thoughts, and followed Rulio’s trail out from the clearing and back into the dense jungle.
Yet even now, as Roland walked among the misty trees with the dead paratroopers far behind them, he shuddered each time the memory resurfaced.
Like usual, he was walking on point, with Jonny and Daziel fanned out behind to either side of him.
He could hear noises ahead, the sound of people rustling rather carelessly through the undergrowth. Definitely not soldiers, then. It had to be Rulio and his crew.
Roland’s pulse quickened as the mission’s crucial moment approached.
They had been stalking the Captain for some time now, and still no one in Rulio’s party had shown any inkling that they were aware of Roland’s presence. So, Roland walked more forcefully, increasingly stomping his feet against the muddy dirt below, willing the Captain to hear him.
Finally, once Roland’s stomps had become almost comical, the Captain stopped and raised his hand, saying something that was inaudible to Roland’s ears. But the implication was obvious – Rulio had worked out he was being followed, at last.
About time. Roland shuddered to think what would have happened to Rulio had he been trailed by anyone or anything that did want to kill him. Although, it did go a long way to explaining the messy scene at the hill.
Roland signalled Daziel and Jonny to encircle Rulio and his companions, then slowly clapped his hands in mock admiration as he stepped out of the shelter of the jungle.
He saw the Captain clearly then for the first time.
The man looked like hell, with mud and blood caked all over his face and flashy uniform, no doubt from the tussle he had gotten into with the dogs. He was accompanied only by a young kid in his early twenties, and the girl.
Lucky. It would have made things difficult if the girl had died, or if Rulio had had any proficient killers with him.
Roland slowly walked towards the trio, resting his hands on his revolvers.
Once he was close enough for them to appreciate the gesture, he chuckled. “I see your hearing’s as good as ever, Captain.”
Rulio stared back at him with a blank expression, and simply said “You look like a German.”
Roland took immediate umbrage at that. Rulio had always known just where to jab him, effortlessly swinging Roland’s insult right back at him.
Roland immediately pushed down his rising emotions, maintaining his air of cool composure. He laughed. “Is that meant to be insulting?” A shrug. “What can I say? They do have better fashion sense.”
He saw Rulio’s expression narrow.
They were both throwing oblique shots, testing the air. It had been a long while since they had last seen each other, and neither knew where they really stood.
“We weren’t expecting company.” Rulio said flatly. “How did you find us?”
Roland had no interest in answering that question. He raised his eyes in mock offense. “You don’t seem very grateful for another set of hands.” He liked being obscure, keeping Rulio on his toes. He hadn’t exactly planned on acting like this, but he was enjoying it, even if his own braggadocio was now starting to annoy him slightly.
It was a necessary front. As long as Rulio thought Roland had the upper hand in the situation, then it would be so. And at any rate, Roland had his ace cards hidden amongst the trees, waiting to be revealed.
“So that’s it?” Rulio asked him, with an air of both hope and scepticism. “You came to help us?”
Roland grinned, and said “No.”
Rulio shifted uneasily. “Then what?” He was unnerved.
Good.
Roland drummed his fingers habitually against the grips of his guns. Then he pointed at Beck. “Her.”
Rulio looked confused. “Her? What about her?”
Now was the time for the lie. “That girl has a reward out for her return. Her parents would dearly like her back.” Roland smiled, hoping he had been adequately convincing. Not that it really mattered whether the Captain believed him at this point – he had Jonny and Daziel on hand to sort out any disagreements. “So really, it seems like I’m the good guy here, Captain. And besides, this isn’t any place for a young woman to be running around. Now, just let her come with me, and we’ll be on our way.” He gestured to Rulio’s waist, the most likely place for him to have stashed the dog tags. “And I’ll take those dog tags, too.”
Roland saw Rulio’s hand slowly moving downwards towards his pistol. Just as foolhardy as ever.
Roland wagged his finger in the air. “Ah, ah, ah – none of that, Captain.” Then he motioned to the trees behind them. “I suppose you didn’t hear them, but I have two men placed in the trees behind you. I implore you, Captain, to back away. You, and your friend. There is no ending here in which you are both satisfied, and still alive.”
He watched in satisfaction as Rulio slowly turned his head to eye the jungle. No doubt, he was weighing up the chances that Roland was bluffing.
To assuage his doubts, Roland shouted “Jonny! Show the Captain that I’m not lying.”
A loud, short burst of automatic gunfire crashed out from the jungle behind Rulio.
Roland was beginning to grow restless, now. He stared at Rulio, and then pointed emphatically off towards the jungle. His meaning was clear: Get the hell away, now.
Then the young kid next to Rulio piped up. “Captain, is-” The kid had barely said two words when Rulio raised his hand sharply and cut him off.
The Captain was looking murderous, but it was obvious to everyone that he was powerless to do anything. He held no cards, had no possible edge in the situation. He had been entirely blindsided. He would have to take this defeat and run away with his tail between his legs, and both men knew it.
Finally, the girl spoke. “It’s alright.”
If Roland wasn’t concerned about maintaining his persona, he would have beamed. If even the girl was now resigned to her fate, Rulio would surely have to capitulate. Roland was rather amused by the kind of internal negotiation and charade of choice that was going on between Rulio and his crew, when none of them could do anything to change the outcome that Roland had ordained.
It was a long moment before Rulio finally said “Come on, Marek.”
His voice was quiet, but he was staring at Roland with an expression even more murderous than before, and his face was twitching.
So, the kid’s name is Marek.
Roland stared back at Rulio, uncowed. He felt self-satisfied; he had won this round. But his enmity towards the Captain, which had dissipated somewhat since their last meeting amidst the diffusion of time, had bubbled up again over the past couple of days, and now resurged with a vengeance over the course of their interaction. He could feel it struggling to break free of his control. But he knew he couldn’t deal with Rulio properly – not yet. There were still parts for everyone to play, and he had a mission to complete.
Rulio unclipped the pouch containing the dog tags and tossed it at Roland’s feet. Then he stormed off silently towards the jungle, with the young kid hastily following him.
Beck remained, standing resolute.
Roland looked at her properly now for the first time. She was petite, with delicate features under a bobbed curtain of straight, jet-black hair. Beautiful, in a fragile way.
“Well, isn’t this nice?” Roland said.
The girl said nothing.
Roland shrugged, and then motioned to the jungle where Jonny and Daziel were positioned. The two men emerged, and bound Beck’s hands behind her back.
“Not too tight?” Roland asked, with genuine concern. Rulio had gone; he could drop the act somewhat.
The girl shook her head.
“It’s just a precaution, you understand.” Roland added. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want her to think too badly of him. Rulio was one thing, but Roland had nothing in particular against the girl. There was no need to give her further reasons to despise him, above those she already had thanks to the situation she now found herself in. She seemed to have accepted her fate, at least for the time being, but looked none too happy about it.
Roland couldn’t blame her. What manner of strange mechanisms sent people spinning through life, that he should be here now, kidnapping this girl? He wished it didn’t have to be so.
With Beck securely in hand, the group of four turned and began walking back towards the Rapide Heurt.
They had been travelling for some time when they emerged into a clearing. In front of Roland lay an enormous tree, riddled with glowing crystalline spikes.
Interesting.
Roland saw it, then – a bright crystal, larger than the others, that pulsed with a rich orange light and flickered with bursts of brilliant white and bright yellow.
He smiled, and began walking towards the tree.