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| Contents |
Lpnet1 Lpnet2 Lpnet3 Sci-shorts-01 Sci-shorts-02 Sci-shorts-03 Sci-shorts-04 Gallery | Animation |
| Tsv-02-100 The Illusive R-Wing Chapter 1: Treezine Agent Chapter 2: Lisa Chapter 3: Unexpected Visitors Chapter 4: Knowledge is Power Chapter 5: A Piece of Sky Pie Chapter 6: The DGP Governor Chapter 7: Point Kapex, Lunaside Chapter 8: The Scenic Route Chapter 9: The Temspace Refraction Chapter 10: The Age of Aquarius Chapter 11: To Ride the R-Wing Chapter 12: Effects of the Tuniverseo |
Chapter
17. The Fascist Fake
There was absolutely no way he was going to lose her to some young fascist brat whose daddy had more money than his. Not after all he'd been through. He tried to reach her again over the com-link, but 'Presently Engaged' kept repeating. He located all the important facts about the engagement and thought about what to do. His romantic warrior suggested landing at the wedding, in the 850, and demanding a stop to the wedding, but only if he couldn't reach her the night before. The night before, he realized, that was now, and it was getting late. He put himself in gear, fired the turbine, and took the 850 back up, high into the clouds. He located her present coordinates on the topographic map, flew to the spot without changing altitude, and took the R-wing down, into the depth of a suburban zone at night. There was another, smaller parkway and preservation, just about 5 km from her present residence. He lowered the 850 into the depths and landed in the park. He knew it all well, from his youth, and it was a perfect hiding place, a small clearing in the midst of the trees. After disengaging the engine, he tried another com-link. This time, he spoke to her more seriously than ever before. "Lisa, I've gone to hell and come back, and the word Earth means nothing to me anymore. I've been lost about a mixed up universe with unaccountable infinite variations of the term Terra. I think by now you probably know what I'm saying. There are a few different words for it. Shattered, refracted, and torn. All the time I was lost, I dwelled in thoughts about you, and felt that something very wrong had separated us, something very wrong. For 20 years I've been trying to undo that wrong. Now here I am, and I'm damned if I'm going to let some young fascist brat take you away from me!" This time, she answered. Her face was almost in pain, and she was crying. "Ren, Mad Crow, please don't do this to me!" she said, and disconnected. Shortly, he was frustrated, and didn't know what to do. She was crying, and he didn't like seeing her that way. What could he do? It was unfortunate the 850 did not have camouflage. The Martians apparently reserved the cloak for the Transverser. Suddenly, he recalled the Tranquan suit he was wearing. It did have camouflage. He thought about it, and decided, there was only one thing he could do. He'd go to her now, and use the camouflage if necessary. He secured all his personal effects, shut the systems down, and left the 850 into the dark night. He took a blue ASC all-weather coat from a bag, put it on over the spacesuit, and it covered everything well. He put the helmet in the bag, and looked at the stars, misty with wispy clouds, overhead. He checked the directional compass, and moved southeast, through the trees. Minutes later, he came upon a roadway, and followed it. There were a few lights about through many trees, revealing sparsely scattered suburban residences. He followed the roadway. Traffic was very light at the late hour. By secular-time, it was 11 pm, going on 12. As he was hit by the lights of a roadway vehicle, he realized he had forgotten to shave, again. He cursed a bit beneath his breath and hoped it wouldn't make a difference. A motorcycle buzzed by and he thought how he would love to have one of those things right now. It wasn't too bad, though. He'd learned to walk quite well, on different occasions, and there was no shame in it. He felt confidence, and patted the armor and the gun secured beneath the cloak. It was slow, but there was time. He calculated the distance in his mind and estimated his ETA. Thirty minutes could get him to the crossroads, and another 30 to the exact coordinates. ETA: 1:30 am, going on 2. It was 1 going on 2. Perfect. As he neared the crossroads, the traffic was thicker, and he sensed danger. It was time to try out the camouflage, he decided, and stopped in the shadows of the last thick bit of trees. He removed the helmet, put it on, and put the ASC coat in the bag. He stuffed the bag under the spacesuit, secured the helmet, and activated the camouflage. From his visor's perspective, the suit appeared as a com-graphic representation of lines, about a light greenish glow. From the external perspective, he was secure under camouflage. He ran swiftly across the intersection as he reached it, and followed the advice of Xen-xi masters, treating it all like a dangerous obstacle course. He skirted the edge of a parked vehicle, crossed a parking lot, and slowed into a cat's stealth-mode, eyeing the area with intrigue. Being under camouflage was a very interesting experience, but he didn't have time to waste experimenting with Xen-xi games. He crossed the parking lot, reached the corner of a hardware store, and turned up a narrow inclination of roadway, leading south. The moon, in its 3rd quarter, hung just above the trees to the right, as he moved swiftly on. He walked at first, and then ran at the top of a hill, and over it. After 2 hills, he reached a much steeper incline of 45 degrees, and recalled the area from past scenarios. He walked up the hill, one vehicle passed, and then there was only complete stillness. On both sides were thick trees, a few lights deep across them, and it was as if the world had just suddenly died. As he trudged up the steep inclination of roadway, it was as if he were carrying a great burden on his back, and his thoughts wandered over the past scenarios. He recalled the time he was stranded on Ancient Mars, the time he was lost on Prehistoric Earth, the time he was lost in the Sierra Madre, and finally, the time he was lost in Los Angeles, at the edge where the oil refineries and factories were. It had been dead, all of it, in a way he would never forget, never. He recalled the time with a strong sense of deja-vu as he reached the top of the hill, and focused on what lay ahead. There was a gas station, 2 mini-marts, a garage, all at another intersection just 100 meters away. He stopped by the edge of the trees and checked the time. It was 1 am. There were 2.5 km to go. He moved on, through the intersection, without difficulty. Traffic was light. It was apparent to see that Querzo had returned everything to normal, whatever that is, but having been stranded on the island; he had missed the first 2 weeks of it. |
Chapters
13-end
Chapter 13: The State of the Earth War Chapter 14: Notch-98 Revisited Chpater 15: Climatic Changes Chapter 16: R-Winger Down Chapter 17: The Fascist Fake Chapter 18: The New Age |