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Carparso
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Dan Carparso tossed fitfully in a dream. He was back, high up on Palmer’s Point, the Heavenfield stretching away precipitously beneath him. The hordes of nightmarish creatures flowed around the promontory — a single island rising out from the boiling sea of monsters. He felt the pain in his shoulder where the barb from a demon had pierced his suit, a deep, agonising throb.
A terrifying cry rang out from above, and he looked up to see the dark silhouette of some fearful winged creature wheeling across that unsettling sun. Its great bat-like wings beat with an unnatural slowness, and as Carparso looked on, the creature banked around, dropping down, speeding towards him. It gave another heart-stopping shriek, and Carparso fell to his knees, his hands up to his helmet in a futile attempt to block out the sound. He felt the pain erupt in his shoulder as though in answer to the demon’s call — a black presence within his wound spreading out across his chest, chilling him. He shut his eyes in fear, but still he could see the demon lit up in flames upon his mind, screaming out of the sky towards him. He tried to turn, to crawl away, but the pain in his shoulder had a will which held him, dragging him back to his feet, pushing him up towards the approaching fire.
“Hey! Wake up!”
A deep voice cut across his dream, and he heard himself cry out as he opened his eyes. For a second, the image of the approaching fire was overlaid upon a face, but slowly the flames burned away, and he was staring up at the brooding features of a man with a dark beard and a craggy brow.
“Wake up!” repeated the man, and Carparso felt a sharp jolt of pain in his shoulder where the man held him.
“Hey! Easy!” he yelped, trying to struggle out of the man’s grip. He looked around; he was sitting up in a hospital bed, the big man leaning ominously over him, holding him firm. “Let go of me!”
“Are you awake?” grunted the man, ignoring his protestations, staring intently into his eyes. Dan noticed Captain Blake standing silently in the shadows.
“What? Of course I’m awake! Let me go, goddammit!”
The man held him for a moment longer, then, seemingly satisfied, gave a grunt and released his grip on Carparso’s shoulders. He slumped back into his pillows, breathing heavily, cradling his arm.
“What’s going on, Captain?” he croaked; he still felt terribly weak from his injuries. “Who’s this?”
The big man stepped back, taking a seat in the corner of the room, his eyes never leaving Carparso. Dan looked back mistrustfully. Captain Blake pulled up a chair, its feet squealing as it slid across the floor, and sat down at Carparso’s bedside.
“How are you feeling, Dan?” he muttered quietly, ignoring the question. “You back with us yet?”
Dan swallowed weakly and gave a weary smile.
“Ready for duty, sir,” he croaked.
“Good man,” replied Blake. “Good man.”
“Where are we, sir?”
His eyelids were drooping now and his speech beginning to slur as he felt a wave of exhaustion overcome him.
“I remember the battle, the angels…”
“That’s all over now,” cut in Blake softly.
“Are we home?”
“Not yet, not yet. They’ve got us on a troop ship back to Fort Caulder,” muttered Blake, a tone of frustration in his voice hinting at something unsaid. “We’ll be stuck here for a few more days yet, so you’ll have plenty of time to recover before we hit the States.”
“A ship?” slurred Carparso; his thoughts were starting to fall away as he drifted off towards sleep.
“That’s right. I don’t think the army can afford a couple of C-17s for us anymore. Either that or they just want to forget about us for a while.”
“More like.”
“Anyway, you get some rest,” said Blake awkwardly, getting to his feet. “It’s nothing for you to worry about; just get yourself mended.”
Carparso closed his eyes and, half in a dream, heard Blake and his mysterious companion talking in hushed voices.
“Are you Boris?” Carparso managed to croak, coming to a sudden realisation as his mind drifted. “You, you saved my life.”
The words were no more than a whisper.
“No problem,” came a soft voice, deep and dreamlike. “Maybe you’ll get the chance of returning the favour some day.”
Carparso heard the creak of the door as it closed, and then exhaustion overcame him and he was gone, consumed by a feeling of travelling at an immense speed without moving. A point of red light appeared in the darkness of his dreams, growing, intensifying, and then he made out shapes and sounds — red rock and dust.
He felt his heart sink as he prepared himself once more for the Heavenfield.
* * *
The two men walked in silence, skirting the lake along a leaf-strewn path. Bare trees lined the lakeside, still wreathed in the mist of a frost-filled morning. A weak sun shone orange upon the still water, bathing the scene in a mournful glow.
Outwardly the two were similar, both well-dressed businessmen in their mid-sixties; polished shoes, smart suits, and dark overcoats. One was a little taller than the other and wore thin-rimmed glasses, his hair swept back self-consciously over a balding head. He had a smooth, almost waxy complexion, with a round face and slight jowls. He moved easily along the path, his face impassive, an almost zen-like calm about him. He walked as though lost in thought, his full lips permanently formed into a wry half-smile.
The other figure, the smaller of the two, seemed almost the opposite in character. He exuded a certain nervous energy that amplified his movements, making him appear, if not more imposing, then certainly less mistakable.
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He was bald, with gaunt features and a prominent nose; the face of a hawk. And his eyes were an intense pale blue. He was in constant motion, looking nervously around at the hint of any noise, first adjusting his coat, then straightening his tie, now thrusting his hands into his pockets; he was like a storm contained.
“So, Victor, I take it this must be important?” asked the taller man casually. His breath steamed in the chill of the morning air. His gaze never wavered, fixed straight ahead, and his face remained unchanged; to anyone unfamiliar with Senator Edward Thompson, they would have found it difficult to be sure it had been this man who had uttered those words. It was as if the sounds had simply washed over and away from him.
“I told you to be discreet. You should have come alone,” replied Lammb in an almost petulant tone. He glanced pointedly back at the dark limousine parked further down the path. The group of suited security guards looked like dark statues in the mist. Victor turned back to the path as they continued their slow walk around the lake. His footsteps were heavy upon the packed earth, whereas, the senator continued his measured tread; he reminded Victor of a pall bearer at a wake.
“They’re all cleared,” muttered the senator distantly. “But after the attacks on your labs yesterday, I’m surprised to see you outside at all, Victor.” He gave the smaller man a lazy grin; “Though word has it that you don’t travel alone either, Victor. Do you? Is that what you’re so agitated about?”
As though on cue, a startled bird took flight, bursting from a nearby tree in a brief moment of chaos. Victor jumped, cursing loudly as the bird’s cries receded into the distance. Senator Thompson showed no reaction but continued walking at his slow and even pace.
“You know what this is about, Ed,” muttered Victor, still looking about anxiously. His eyes darted constantly, always on the move as though he were hunted. “This is about trust. This is about understandings. This is about deals that were made.”
“I hope I don’t hear the sounds of threats making their way into this conversation, Victor.”
Again, the senator seemed to utter his words without being a participant in their delivery. He was like an isolated body, continuing on its way untouched by the conversation.
“That all depends,” growled Victor, “upon the question of trust.”
The senator didn’t reply, or even acknowledge the man at his side. He could have been any businessman taking an early morning stroll to work through the park. Victor, by contrast, was getting visibly more impatient.
“My sources tell me that the President is close to signing the field-treaty,” he muttered at last.
“Your sources are well-informed,” replied the senator calmly.
“And they also tell me that the chief exponent of this course of action is you, Ed. In fact, there are certain rumours that may point to you being extremely vociferous in your haste to shut down the Field.”
“Is that what you dragged me all the way out here for, Victor?” muttered Senator Thompson with a quiet laugh. He came to a halt, turning to his companion for the first time in their conversation.
“You know damn well that I want that treaty signed, and the extent of these attacks is just making my job a hell of a lot easier. If we don’t put a brake on the way things are going, well, before you know it, everything will be out of our control. And then what would your precious investors say, Victor?”
“Don’t patronise me, Ed,” growled Lammb, staring up at the senator with his pale, unblinking eyes. “I’ve staked everything on the Field — you know that. I’m not arguing with our need to keep a lid on access to it. I’m just beginning to wonder how eager you are going to be to reopen the Field once we’ve shut it down. My sources also tell me other things, things that concern your involvement with that fiasco that you and Speers cooked up over in Britain. Maybe you’re glad that Speers has disappeared and would rather just bury some past events before they come back to haunt you.”
“Ah, so this is what today’s sabre-rattling is about?” replied the senator, seemingly unmoved by Victor’s words. He continued his slow walk along the lakeside. “You disapprove of my housekeeping?”
“Are you responsible for these attacks, Ed?” cut in Victor, unable to contain his anger any longer. He had taken hold of the senator’s arm, pulling him to a halt. “Are these your men masquerading as Exiles? Are you forcing the President to sign that treaty out of fear?” Victor’s eyes were wide and staring. The senator tried to shake off Victor’s grip, but he held him firm. “Tell me!” he hissed angrily.
“Victor! You’re talking like a madman!” cursed the senator, losing his composure. He rounded on the smaller man in a sudden burst of anger. “Do you have any idea of the fiasco that we’re dealing with? We’ve just about averted a world war with the Brits for chrissakes, and now the President’s under siege in a goddamn bunker from an enemy we can’t even see. One that’s taken out half our Field-research infrastructure in a matter of weeks! Of course these aren’t my men! Stop being so damn paranoid, Victor — pull yourself together!”
He snatched his arm away, staggering a little as he did so. The two men stood in an angry silence for a moment, breathing hard. Slowly, the Senator’s shoulders relaxed, and he took out a handkerchief from his pocket. He dabbed his face, then let out a long sigh.
“We lost billions of dollars of military hardware,” he continued, once more in his calm and even tone. “Hundreds of American lives have been lost, and on top of all that, I’ve got a political situation with the Brits to defuse, not to mention our good friend Speers, running around god-knows-where with a goddamn US flagship. So yes, Victor, forgive me if I want to sit on this for a while.”
He glanced across to Victor, who was unmoved, still staring angrily.
“Don’t get soft on me now, Senator,” said Lammb icily. “We’re well past the point of no return. We’re so close. I’ve told you, Ed, when the gold rush starts, there’ll be no stopping it. If we aren’t at the head of it…”
“You know I don’t share your capitalist zeal, Victor,” muttered the senator, staring out across the icy waters of the lake. “I’m doing what’s best for the country. This is the greatest threat to national security America has ever faced.”
“Spare me your election speech, Ed,” cut in Lammb. “I don’t care that you keep up pressure to enforce the field-treaty, but don’t push so hard. We need to buy a little more time before the Field is shut down. Just a little time, and we can secure our contracts.”
“I can’t work to your schedule just to please your investors, Victor.”
“One month, Ed. Four weeks is all I’m asking. It’ll take that long to iron out the details.”
“Four weeks? Hell, I don’t know, Victor, the President’s hell-bent on easing the situation with the Brits, especially now that they’ve got such a technological advantage — I don’t think I can hold off —”
“Trust me, Ed,” urged Lammb. “I know your influence with the President. I’ve had someone deliver some very interesting information recently — game-changing. I just need more time.”
“An informant?” asked the senator, turning to face Lammb. He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.
“Our informant, Ed,” smiled Victor triumphantly. “The one we set on Speers when you started getting all twitchy about him.”
“But, how can that be?” gasped the senator. “All reports said that he was lost. So that explains the rumours about you, Victor. Where is he? You’ve been in contact with him?”
“All in good time, Ed,” replied Victor with a grin. “Just buy me four weeks, and it’ll all become clear.”
“Very well, I’ll see what I can do, Victor — I’ll try to slow-walk some of the definitions in the treaty. But this had better be worth it.”
Thompson appeared visibly shaken by Victor’s revelation. He turned, as if in a daze, and began walking back towards his waiting car and his security personnel.
“Just remember, we’re in this together, Victor. For better or for worse.”
“Just like we’re married,” drawled Lammb with a grin, watching the senator head back around the lake. He stood there unmoving as the figure faded into the early morning mist.
“Four weeks, Senator,” he called. The senator continued walking purposefully back to his men.
“Four weeks,” repeated Victor in a quiet murmur. He watched the Senator’s limousine pull away, its tyres crunching over the gravel as it headed off into the distance to be swallowed by the mist.