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Desperately Seeking Sergei (part 2 of 2)
01/12/2006 . Source: Geoff Willmetts 
A Psi-Kicks story by GF Willmetts. That was about the only time once they hit the Arctic Circle and got swept into the blizzard. Visibility was zero and Lancier was ignoring the instruments now, scanning was the only option in pro-mode. He had tried explaining it to Courtney many times but it was like trying to describe sight to a blind man. You could only really appreciate psionics if you had the ability. It was vision without vision unless you had a host that you could see through the eyes of. Scanning lacked the cones and rods of the eye so it was more a feel for the shape of things. Lancier could sense a car coming around a blind corner and the number of people it contained but wouldn't be able to tell you its colour or accurate descriptions without some other sighted medium. Things like rain and snow didn't interfere and the Stable scientists theorised that scanning was limited by the mass of matter until Lancier had revealed the contents of a safe through a ton of concrete. Reading was tougher.
'You're very quiet, Court.'
'Didn't want to disturb you. How is it?'
'Fine. Glad I turned the engine off. The intakes are freezing and clogging.'
'And you didn't have any fuel anyway. Think we'll make it OK?'
'PING!'
'What?'
'Might have a different problem. It didn't last. Keep your head down. I'm taking her down.'
'Where? It looks all white down there.'
'There's some buildings down there. We can hold up there for the night.'
'How long before Sergei?'
Lancier paused. 'It's on a decaying orbit. Haven't worked out local time yet but somewhere around twelve hours. Might even get some sleep in if I'm lucky.'
'What about the cold?'
'Brace yourself.'
One advantage of blizzards, Lancier had already decided, was that they provided a lot of fresh snow as he brought the Harrier down on a controlled glide. The snow was battering the wings but the scoop and shield effect was screening out all the worse effects except temperature. Still with the intakes frozen, heat would be self-contained. The pilot skill was pressing him not to bring down the landing gear down. Better a controlled skid than damaged landing gear breaking beneath them. Landing vertically in this blizzard and the Harrier could tilt. Lancier decided it really wouldn't matter. He wouldn't be taking the GR9 up without some fuel and this wasn't the way they would be leaving. It was more important to hide the Harrier in a snow bank. At least, without the engines running there was no heat signature, anyone in those buildings weren't going to hear them. For now, one thing at a time. Once landed, then he'd scan the area. At least no one was going to see them coming down in this blizzard.
One advantage of not relying on technology was that psionic ability would do the right thing to ensure survival. Like all evolved abilities, if a skill meant survival then it would prevail. Most psionic abilities enhanced survival. Taking conscious control over it was the real key to having it work for you. In his present state, Lancier was equally confident. All it took was to slow down and scan for a glide path.
For Courtney, the ground came up rather quickly and then the GR9 was down, skidding to a halt and loosing velocity as it banked into the snow before finally stopping.
Lancier sniffed. After the many hours of flight, it had gotten far too quiet. 'That wasn't too bad. You OK, Court?'
'Not sure I'd want to try it every day but I'm fine. Shouldn't we be getting out?'
'Only if you want to be fried or sink in the ice. I shed speed into screen as we came in. Let it cool down a minute. Even if the Russians find it, this jet will be embedded before too long.
'Neat trick. What about us? We're hardly dressed for winter. You need the heat.'
'Hush! I'm scanning.' Lancier paused. 'Got it! Half a mile to the south-west. Those buildings I told you about.'
'Still going to be a long walk.'
'And we can't stay in here. The Harrier will be hidden in half an hour. Keep your helmet on. Press your helmet to mine if you need to talk. Let me release the canopy.'
It clicked open and slid back and the chill of the air caught them both. Their seat harnesses released themselves. Lancier was flexing his scooping talent as he climbed out of the jet.
Courtney stood up and gingerly climbed down the side of the harrier, her feet seeking the ledge insteps. There were times when being a Blank was a distinct disadvantage. A lack of communication being top. Despite the helmet, the wind was howling now they had the canopy open and would make it impossible to hear what Lancier might be saying. If only she was a Psionic she'd have been able to spake. Having a Psionic Pair wasn't even considered for this operation. He was pointing at the cockpit and told her to stand still. Courtney's seat popped up and the canister jumped out onto the ground and Lancier grabbed Courtney and followed it away from the GR9. The canopy slid back into place. Just as with the island, the snow was now being screened from around them as the canister popped open and expanded into a small tent.
No, not a small tent, Courtney realised. It was a survival raft with a top.
Lancier opened the flap and Courtney gratefully stepped inside, followed by the Psionic, who pulled his helmet off. They might be sheltered but the sides of the raft were buffeting them as Courtney followed his action. The RAF hood inside the helmet at least kept their heads protected and deadened the blizzard's howl.
'Sit this side, Court, I need the weight so we don't go flying.'
'You calling me fat?' she shouted back.
Lancier smiled and sat down next to her and shouted in her ear, 'Don't I wish. It's a question of inertia and weight. Hold tight. I'm cutting the screen.'
The raft up-ended one side and then it was off sliding across the snow. Lancier kept his eyes shut but kept his hands out-stretched, tilting them occasionally whenever they reached a bump. Courtney watched but was careful about interfering. A distraction had once caused her that scar across her back. The raft jumped as Lancier waved his arm and then spun around. Very rapidly. There must have been a series of obstacles. The Blank felt a little seasick before the buffeting stopped and they hit something again. The raft slowly spun around as Lancier kept his eyes tightly shut scanning without distraction and then they were suddenly sliding down an incline and the wind seemed a distant memory.
'Sorry. Felt like we were going through a lot of debris or something. You look a little green, Court.'
'Seasick.'
'Better not do it...'
'Yeachhhhh!!! Sorry.'
Courtney opened her eyes. The vomit was floating in front of her at chest level, being spun into a sputum ball. The flap opened and it flew out and away. She only hoped that Lancier swept it far enough away that they wouldn't step on it outside although by now it was probably frozen. Then again, he always seemed considerate to her, blaming himself for her scar.
But where were they?
PING!
'Can we find somewhere a little warmer?'
'Sure. Take my hand.'
'You feel like a furnace. No wonder you haven't complained of the cold.'
'It won't last. It's just me loosing heat. We need to get both of us in the warm and shelter. There's nobody home.'
'Home?'
They stepped out of the raft into a door shaft, protecting the entrance from being snowed in. Red pilot lights cast their glow over the snow giving it a somewhat crimson look. Lancier looked to the door, waving his hand over it.
'Security lock. Unlocked. Alarms disabled.'
'What's a secure building doing out here?'
'Manufacturing your replacement.'
They door opened and they stepped inside.
'Come again?'
Lancier removed his flying under-helmet and Courtney followed suit, shaking her hair, slipping it into one of the jumpsuit pockets. Her blonde hair was damp to her skull with sweat. The only light was red from standard emergency dims. It was warmer than outside and with the door shut, the wind was kept outside. They were also deep enough to be spared any noise the wind generated. They suddenly had proper lighting as Lancier reached out and triggered them on. Courtney squinted as she adjusted to the normal lights. Lancier just stood there with his eyes shut scanning.
'Is it totally automated? We need to find food. You need to eat. I could do with a ladies room. We both need some sleep.'
Lancier opened his eyes. 'There's a control room down this way. Supplies as well.'
'Lead the way. Are we free to talk here? No passive bugs?'
'They won't pick me up. You'll need to talk in free code. If they knew we were going to be here, I'd be the last person they'd want in a place like this...'
'Why? What are they making?'
'Your replacement.'
'Huh?'
'Think we ought to have a look before we get any sleep. We might have a tight schedule getting to Sergei.'
'Still on track?'
'A decaying orbit. It'll take a while yet. Enough time. Don't forget we've ten hours back towards zero GMT and then three hours past it. At least seven hours sleep before we have to get in position. This is more important than sleep.'
'But I slept on the way up here...It's you who needs the sleep...'
PING!
'Here we are.'
The walk down the corridor had led down a slight incline to a window next to a door.
'No lights.'
They came on.
'Never leave home without a telekinetic...What's going on in there, Chris?'
Inside the room, there was an automatic process going on. To Courtney's eyes it was just a series of small semi-spherical objects being put together.
'Scanning.'
Courtney knew better than to interrupt and let Lancier get on with his job. Details in her report could always be covered later.
'Dust-free environment. There's an invisible alarm that will alert someone if we go through the door. I can disable it but this is only the manufacture. We can find the finished product along here.'
Courtney shrugged her shoulders. 'Lead the way.'
The lights flicked off behind them as they walked.
'That your doing?'
'Automatic invisible eye. Generator conserves power for manufacture. I can leave them on if you like?'
Courtney shook her head. 'I'm more concerned about passive bugs. You could still miss them.'
'There's a blizzard out there. The place is deserted. By the time anyone gets here, I'll have zapped Sergei back and we can be gone. If it'll make you happier, I'll scan for tape recording devices. If they use the new chips even better.'
They continued down the corridor and then reached a stairwell. Lancier touched the wall.
'This entire level is manufacture. The generators are below us. Probably an access port inside there.'
'Must be hard to fuel up.'
'Nope! Nuclear. Not a big reactor but enough to power this place.'
'I hope the depth is to keep radiation at bay.'
Lancier smiled. 'Only from satellites. They don't want many visitors but authorisation must have come from high up. I'd know more if there were any people here that could be spiked.'
'Have to make do, Chris. Can we go upstairs? I'm getting cold.'
Lancer shut his eyes. 'OK. The heating's on the next floor up. There was a passive IR scan but its off now.'
'How do people get in this place?'
They climbed the stairs. 'From up here. Heli-pad. We came in through the tradesmen's entrance.'
The landing led to another corridor and then into an open room with tables full of small boxes. As they looked around, another box rolled off the conveyor.
'Must be getting ready for another pick-up.'
'The blizzard's delayed that.' Lancier opened one box and pulled out a spherical device. 'This, Court, is a scrambler.'
'My replacement?'
'Yep! Not as pretty. Latest model even if it's the same shape as earlier ones. It's supposed to mess up psionic perception. Rurik used a ring of mark twos to mask Ben Fane from us last year.'
'I'm still puzzled how you found him so easily.'
'They weren't perfect. We just zeroed and triangulated on its null field. It just felt out of place. If he'd used a single one it would have been a lot tougher. Covered a large area. He destroyed them when they left.'
'Bit inventive for the Russians. I mean, its not as though they have any Psionics.'
'That's what we thought until Kataya came across plans for a mark four in that safe job in Rio a few months back.'
'You don't seem that surprised...'
'...for other countries to work on something to deter Psionics. Nah! They're just not yet very effective. I hear a ping when they turn on with this model. Then it's like a light buzz close up when on. Can't see much inside normally but I know they're around. Dead giveaway. They must be running a quality control test that I felt bringing the Harrier down. Here. Catch.'
Courtney caught the ball and pulled her gloves off to finger it's shiny shell.
'We think they're on the black market. It would explain why we haven't been able to locate key personal of the Taliban or al-Qaeda. If it's that easy to walk in here, anyone can have them.'
'With all those alarms?'
Lancier pointed to a staircase leading into the roof. 'That's only for the manufacturing side. That way's always open. Not an inviting place. Guards and personal left out here would raise feelers eventually. Who are the Russians going to complain to if someone steals from them, especially when they can't get here fast enough to stop them? There's plenty of access. The heli-pad. There's always the sea or buying away from here. Russia's black market will get you anything at the right price.'
'So how do these things work?' Courtney flicked open an access panel on the scrambler and flicked a button.
PING!
'ACHHHHT!!!'
The scrambler dropped to the ground and rolled away. Courtney shook her head before crumbling to her knees.
'Wow! Does that do that to everyone?'
'Probably the first time it met a Blank. What did it feel like?'
'Like my head being turned inside out. Christ! Do you have any idea how it works?'
'I'd love to scan one while its working but we want to stop Sergei...'
Lancier helped Courtney to her feet. 'And the last thing you need is something doing what it did to me.'
'Or mess up my abilities. Grab three of them for later.'
'Won't the Russians know they're missing when they do an audit?'
'Too many gone missing anyway. I don't think the Russians would leave them quite this messy on the table. They aren't stupid. I want them to know. Want to see them move to the next generation.'
Courtney shook her head at that logic and opening boxes stuffing three scrambler balls into her flight suit pockets. 'I hope they don't go off while I'm carrying them.'
Lancier wasn't paying attention. His eyes were firmly closed scanning again.
'They have a canteen this way. Even a ward room and a...well, I wouldn't call it a ladies room but it'll serve its purpose. I've turned the thermostat up even more. They take lower temperatures than we do.'
'Do you think you can sleep?'
'Why not? No one's coming in this blizzard.'
O o O
'I don't think we're alone, Court.'
The blizzard had dropped in the night and Lancier had made sure they made an early start. The Russian factory had supplied a supply of canned food and more importantly, thermal-based Arctic-wear. Top notch. It even came with battery heating, more than enough to keep them warm in the snow. The food was microwave American not Russian and made a reasonable meal.
While Courtney disposed of the cans and sachets, Lancier stood studying a map on the control room wall. The way he kept closing his eyes, the Blank wasn't sure if he was doing some personal calculations, scanning the area or spaking to Sheena Ramone or any of the other Psionics back in the UK. Enhanced abilities clearly showed no bounds at the moment. Who knew what his range was in this boosted state?
They then used the raft, with the top rolled down to ferry them across the snow. With the blizzard gone, the world was just snow white and blue sky. Lancier inspected the sky and decided it would be wiser to walk the last mile. The Blank didn't complain. Although warm from the winter-wear they'd found, she was grateful to stretch her legs. At least, he hadn't sent the raft spinning again. Virgin snow had covered everything in a thick layer.
'More than one person.'
PING!
A white-clad heavy figure strode out of the snow pulling back his hood and taking off his goggles. A prominent dark moustache and heavy eyebrows stood out on the ruddy face.
'General Rurik. What a pleasant surprise. Are you here to sign our visas?'
'What is your purpose here...Mister...?'
'Jones. Sightseeing. Seems to be the week for meteorite near-misses.'
'And you are here for?'
'Lancet Project. Desperately seeking Sergei. Wanted to make sure its homecoming didn't leave any surprises coming this way. Help keep it from damaging Russian ecology. Usual drill.'
'Sergei is only named after Russian astronomer Kapincoff. Not native. Meteorite has no visa.'
'Exactly. We're here to supervise the eviction. So you're happy to be here to see it off with us then?'
'Like you, Mr. Jones, I here only to sightsee and watch.'
'And your troops?'
Lancier waved his hand and the loose snow flowed away, revealing a small platoon of Russian soldiers concealed in it, struggling to get up now they were visible. Their guns pointing at the Psionic and Blank.
'And these?'
Lancier swept his hand in the opposite direction and the wind suddenly swept snow in the opposite direction. Another platoon that had also dug in.
'They yours, too? I hadn't realised the blizzard had dropped so early.'
'All look alike in snow whites.'
'But not yours?'
'Het!'
Lancier turned to the other platoon also armed, standing up and facing them. 'Do you chaps have a commanding officer?'
'Here, Jones.' A soldier was behind Courtney Adams with a pistol in his hand. He was also finding his arm slowly dropping.
'How the fu...'
'Language in front of Miss Smith here, Major...Stowell. Every time that word enters you and your troops' heads, you'll say 'freaking' and its derivatives instead. Now, is it wise to have a gun out on Russian soil? Your Russian neighbours here might shoot back...if I let them.'
Stowell moved towards Lancier, astonished he could move. 'You part of this Brit Lancet Project?'
Lancier shrugged. 'Yep! Both of us. Now will you put your gun down? In fact, I think you all ought to. I'm going to raise all your security levels. We've been putting down co-ordinating telemetrics for the Lancet Device. When it's turned on, this entire area is going to be electro-statically charged. Any electrical device, batteries, ammunition and explosive is likely to ignite and explode. We're here to ensure there are no accidents for anyone out here. I assume you all have families you want to go home to?'
The Americans looked at each other uncertain but waited orders. The Russians hadn't moved. The Major himself making no move himself. Rurik just starred at Lancier. Who was going to make the first move?
Lancier shrugged. 'Some protection you are.' He turned to the Russian, 'General Rurik, I think the Major here needs a demonstration. Let me adjust the setting.'
Lancier pulled a pen from his pocket, twisting it around. 'Major Stowell, just to get it our of your system, so you can put your pistol away, would you shoot me please. One bullet will be fine. We need to see if the device is tuned in.'
Without hesitation, Stowell walked back a few paces and fired at the Psionic. The bullet stopped in mid-flight and then exploded.
'Thank you. Now, Major, imagine that happening in your magazines...All at once when the Lancet Device is on maximum in oh...two minutes!'
'? ? ' ordered Rurik of his own squad.
'Shee-et! Sergeant. Bag detail. All ammunition. Grenades. LAWs. Disarm everything.'
Rurik turned to his own men and hand-signalled. They began to fill bags up themselves.
'I would also recommend turning off all transponders, radios, watches. Pull batteries out of everything if you want to keep them. Anything electrical. Including any thermal heating. Those batteries will blow as well.'
'Your Russian very good, Mr...Jones.'
'Especially when not hindered by any electrical equipment, General Rurik.'
Lancer whispered in Rurik's ear, '? ? ?. ? ? ? , ? ? ? ? ? ?.'
'How long before Sergei arrives, Jones?' Stowell asked.
Lancier examined the sky and pointed. 'See that speck up there, Major. That's Sergei. Less than two minutes. Nearer ninety seconds'
'Freakin'! We won't get the ammo outta here.'
'Tie the haversacks together and form a circle there. Tight as you can around Miss Smith and me.'
Neither Russian or American soldiers waited for the order and hastily tied the bulging haversacks together. Lancier examined the sky. The speck was getting larger.
'Now all of you, face inward in a circle here. All of you, get some practice being still. When we did this in the Pacific, there wasn't much room to spare and I need to spare your toes. Glad you folks aren't wearing helmets. Quickly. C'mon. Move.' Lancier looked at Rurik and Stowell. 'All of you! Shoo!'
With the circle formed around them and no one looking, Lancier gestured and the haversacks went flying across the snow into the distance.
'Thank you. Now you're going to feel disorientated and a little sick all at the same time. Try not to look up. Better. Keep your eyes shut.' He was obviously thinking through his options about Sergei and hope you're insured against burns. 'Sunblock won't help. Just so none of you get ruptured eardrums, I want you to say 'Rock 'n' roll'. Shout it!'
The sky was suddenly in heavy shadow.
'Rock 'n' roll!'
' ? !'
'Louder! Let's have some effort.' Lancier raised his arm and pressed the pen button. 'Centripetal. It's centripetal, Court, I almost got it wrong last time.'
'ROCK 'N' ROLL!'
' ? !'
'ROCK 'N' ROLL!'
' ? !'
BOOM!!!!
'ROCK '? !
...
...
...
Rurik looked down, feeling wet. It wasn't his groin or piss running down his trouser leg. It was definitely too warm for the island. His leather boots up to the calves were in slush. The American and Russian troops in the circle around him were also gingerly raising their legs. Jones and Smith were gone. Turning, to look outside of the circle, the entire area around them, what wasn't fog bound, was freezing already to ice. The snow hadn't melted to earth but the water was a result of the surrounding area. They had sunk but not to bedrock. They were still standing on old hardened compacted snow.
Testing, the nearby ice, Rurik stepped up onto it and walked gingerly across it as the ice cracked a little. It would take a little while for it to truly solidify again. The sun's light was already gleaming through the fog.
Stowell joined him as the soldiers lined up behind looking around bewildered.
'Where'd those Brits go, General?'
'Long gone, Major. Sergei, too.'
'Musta come in close to melt so much.'
'Indeed. Without...er...Mr. Jones' protection we'd have been out there. With the ammunition.'
'Some explosion.'
'Indeed.' Rurik looked around. 'Would you walk or wait at the settlement? Accept Russian hospitality while you wait for your transport to land.'
'Radio and coffee?'
'Both. Vodka, too. We can decide what to tell your superiors.'
'Tell 'em what? Didn't see a freakin' thing! Can't remember much either.'
'Major, about what?'
The American shrugged. 'Did I shoot at an unarmed Brit?'
'You missed. Should be grateful, Major. Less to debrief. Less to remember.'
'Why can't I say freak?'
'A gift from the British.' Rurik strode towards the base, chuckling. A message to the yanks. British humour! Would the Americans understand the message?
O o O
The raft finally came to a halt. It had been smooth skimming away from the island on the water and more so on the ice when it was fresh frozen.
Transfixing the American and Russian military, Lancier had nudged Sergei away with less than a flick of his wrist as it plunged down on their heads. He didn't have to worry about what it had to hit this time. Courtney couldn't decide whether it was the meteor's heat or Lancier's telekinetic ability that had melted the snow. Certainly, he was in greater control. All she saw was a massive discharge. Certainly, the damp had absorbed the static charge. Her hair didn't feel as though it was on end this time. The Psionic had scooped the rubber raft up and had brought it to them allowing for a quick departure with both military groups frozen jaws open in a tableau and the Blank wishing she had a camera as they slipped through the legs of the soldiers. She had tried the spare batteries for their thermal suit but they were drained. They'd been far enough away to avoid exploding but not to lose their charge.
The dingy made progress until it reached the ice and Lancier stepped up his own scoop and the catapulted out to sea or rather on to more ice. Courtney looked around. Everywhere was ice. She tucked herself further into the arctic clothes as the frost began to nip at her. Lancier was keeping the wind out but the cold was getting more intense which would also affect his ability. He certainly wasn't radiating as much heat as he had been which probably explained why she was getting cold as it penetrated even his arctic thermals.
'You did good, Chris.'
'Comes with the job.'
'Will there be repercussions?'
'Not from them. Held the yanks from word go. So little time. Couldn't let them argue or get trigger happy when they pulled guns. It's in Rurik's interest to have our co-operation if he wants any favours so he'll remember. He'll fill in the yanks with what he thinks happened or what they need to know but only guessing.'
The dingy stopped.
'Cold getting to you?'
'We've arrived.'
'But there's no one here.'
'We're a little early. We moved faster before the water froze. Just have to hope that the captain obeys his instructions and waits. He'll find the ice rather too thick at the moment.'
'Can't you help it along?'
'Not part of the plan.'
'Was it easier this time?'
'Well, I didn't have to co-ordinate delay Sergei to hit Ivan. Just had to take into account the difference in position. Could use Earth mass this time. Helped accelerate.'
'Hence, centripedal.'
'What? Oh that. Too many voices in my head. None of them were agreeing in the end. Remind me to be more selective next time.'
'And now?'
'Dormant. Mission over. Other than magnitude, my power hadn't changed that much. It'll slip back. It's still easier to scoop relatively moving objects...'
...And nothing's moving out here.'
'There is, but nothing I must interfere with.'
'A-And we're both getting cold. C-Can we at least share body warmth.' Without waiting for an answer, Courtney huddled around Lancier. 'I'm fr-freezing.'
'A p-penny for them. You're n-not burnt out, are y-you?' Courtney looking into Lancier's eyes, hoping it would reveal something. Anything. He wasn't hot.
'Just getting cold. I can raise the canopy but we need to keep an eye out now.'
'Any repercussions from the project?'
Lancier shrugged. 'From those who might suspect how it was really done. Nah! Hands off. I'll be classed as a major player whenever I'm spotted in the field. Hasn't really stopped me doing what I have to do.'
After a pause. 'What p-p-plan?'
'Non-interference. Psionic c-censoring.'
Lancier was feeling as cold as herself now, Courtney realised. He wasn't doing anything to keep them warm. Psionic censoring? Couldn't he act at all? The reason why the Farsighters couldn't observe the outcome of any assignment was because the use of Psionic power gave too much unpredictability. Too many paths. Nothing definitive. A censored future. What could possibly be happening now that could interfere with anything now? All they were doing was waiting for transport...assuming it could get through the ice and even Chris could help with that if he tried.
'The Navy isn't going to be happy that we've left their latest Harrier on Russian soil.'
'Sheena spake to me. Orders to destroy it. I sent the ammo sacks that way when they detonated. Didn't leave much for anyone to examine.'
'T-Think they'll trust you with one of their jets again?'
'D-Depends on the next meteor. P-Put Sergei in LaGrange orbit just in case...need again. L-Lucky had something t-to hit Big Ivan with.'
'W-Why are w-we waiting? Couldn't y-you m-move the ice...'
'E-Events just need to take their course. S-Shouldn't be long now.'
'W-What e-events?'
Lancier looked up in the sky. 'T-There they are. D-Do you see them?'
'L-Like f-fireflies y'm-mean?'
'T-They'll bigger when come d-down.'
The ice was suddenly splattered all around them with hot ash melting and revealing the water.
'A-Another meteorite?'
'B-Bits of Sergei. L-Lost some mass when I scooped it first time. T-Tail would fall t-to Earth...'
'...P-Providing you d-didn't interfere or screen.'
'T-That w-would mess t-the day.'
Where there was sheet ice was now greatly broken up. More so as there came a swell from beneath and a submarine's conning tower surfaced above the waves followed by part of its body.
There were sailors on the conning tower looking around, their binoculars glinting in the daylight. The Sergei shower seemingly missing its hull. Lancier's body temperature was going up.
'S-Shouldn't w-we w-ave?'
'N-Not supposed be here.' Lancier took his glove off and flicked the air. A flame rose into the air and the sailors were looking their way. The Psionic scooped the dingy slowly towards the submarine.
A hatch on the hull opened and several sailors hooked the dingy and brought them on board.
'You're Smith and Jones?' a lieutenant asked.
Courtney pointed at Lancier, 'H-He's Jones,' and made her way down into the submarine. 'I-I'm Smith.'
'Captain Harlow's complements. If there's nothing you need from the dingy, we need to scuttle it.'
'F-Fine. D-Do you have the box? P-Promised souvenir.'
The lieutenant flicked a hand and a rating brought over a large open container. 'We were told to have one ready, Mr. Jones.'
'C-Can you get others below. S-Security.'
The deck was cleared after the dingy was sliced and ditched, leaving the lieutenant with Lancier who briefly eyed the sub camera. He reached out. From the depths of the Arctic Ocean, a large piece of rock shot out of the water and straight into the container and its lid slammed down on it.
'Shit! Just how did you do that, sir?'
Lancier smiled. 'Repeat after me. Rock 'n' Roll!'
End
Chris Lancier, Courtney Adams, Shenna Ramone, the Stable Consultancy and Psi-Kicks are (c) GF Willmetts 2006. All rights reserved.
Translation time:-
http://world.altavista.com/tr
Babel fish
Russian English
Het! No!
? rock and roll
disarm immediately
Where has the Englishman gone?
? put your guns down
. ? ? ? ?.
Immediately. Collect ammunition and batteries for everything.
? ? ?. ? ? ? , ? ? ? ? ? ?.
'I didn't destroy your production line. They aren't perfect and I've enough to do without looking inside your head.'
My thanks to Donna Jones, David A. Hardy and Rod MacDonald for looking over the draft near completion for their comments and corrections. Anything not altered can be blamed on me. gfw
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