The Siege Against Tolkeen

Jack was shocked into awareness by the feeling of ice cold water poured on his face. His eyes couldn't focus well, and his entire body hurt. He tried to get up, but didn't have the strength. However, he had power enough to open his mouth and swallow some of the icy water. The stuff was foul-tasting and brackish, but it assuaged his burning throat.

"You okay, buddy?" asked a faint, far-off voice. "You were real banged up when I found you."

"Where?" gasped Perrin, using up most of his feeble energy.

"You were in an old dead-storage warehouse. It's where people put the stuff they don't want to throw away, but don't need. I sometimes go in there, foraging for anything that's worth money."

"No. Where am I?"

"Oh," responded the voice. Its owner came into Perrin's cloudy field of vision. He was a tall, thin man, with a face that looked to Jack like a big pink blur. "You're in my home. It's an abandoned rail car. But I've fixed it up real nice. It's got heat and lights and everything."

"Thanks," gasped Perrin. "You...resistance?"

"Resistance?" asked Jack's savior, seemingly bewildered. "You think I'm a rebel? Just who are you, anyway?" The man put his hands on his hips and began looking down at the wounded flyer, expecting an answer.

Jack suddenly realized that his rescuer didn't know that he was a Coalition soldier. It made sense. The stealth cycle hadn't had the death's head motif or any other CS identification on it, and Perrin's armor had been wrecked in the crash.

"No," Jack replied. "I'm a test pilot. Was trying out...new light plane. Controls weren't right, and I crashed into a patrol plane."

"What were those shots that I heard?"

"Other pilots thought I was...attacking. They opened fire."

"That figures. These soldiers are a bunch of paranoids. They never even try to contact people or reason with them, just throw them out of their homes or shoot them."

Jack smiled inwardly. His rescuer sounded bitter towards the Tolkeen army. That could be something that he could build upon later, or perhaps use as an appeal.

"One question," Jack muttered, as he felt himself begin to slip into unconsciousness. "Why didn't you leave me for soldiers?"

"I just had this gut instinct that you didn't want them to. It's one of my special gifts. I have a sort of instinct for people's feelings."

A chill went down Jack's spine, even though the room was very warm. His rescuer was a psychic! In Tolkeen, any kind of paranormal abilities could only mean trouble. "Any other gifts?" he asked, needing to know what kind of creature his host was.

"Yeah," said his savior, with a heavy dose of pride. "I can sort of control fire as well. And I don't get burned. You get your sleep now. You need it." With that, he walked out, and left the room.

Jack suddenly got the mental picture of his sleeping body enveloped by flames, shriveling into a blackened skeleton. He then felt very unwilling to sleep. However, his body commanded it. Perrin slowly slipped into a fitful, restless slumber.

In the next compartment of the tube car, Tucson sat, staring at a flyer in his hands. It had a cartoon of an ominous, grinning skeleton on it, the bony figure holding a plasma rifle in its hands. Beneath it, several lines of small print spoke of the atrocities and cruelty of the Coalition government. The elf knew that the wounded man in his home was a CS spy, even the most simple mind scans showed it loud and clear. But the true question was what to do about it.

Part of the elf wanted to go back to his patient's bedside, and burn the sleeping human into a cinder with a thought. That would clear up the trouble, but went against his morals. Another part of the elf wanted to report the human to the government, so that the spy would be arrested and interrogated. That would help the government, but might get him in trouble for sleeping in a tube car which was technically government property. The presence of police or army in the sewers might anger Arturo, and that would bring real trouble.

The answer suddenly dawned on the elf. He would just tell the vampire to get rid of the dying spy. That would leave his conscience mostly clear, and might even get him on the bloodsucker's good side. He tossed on a jacket, and then ran out of the tube car and into the tunnels beyond.

When next Jack awoke, he found that he barely had the strength to stand, although his vision was still cloudy and his motor control was poor. He got to his feet, and began to walk around the tube car on his wobbling, unsteady legs. In one corner of the room, he found a duffel bag carefully hidden under a chair. Inside were exceedingly few things of value. It was mostly just knick-nacks and some clothes. However, there was a small roll of coins, a silver medallion, and an old, rusty handgun, all of which Perrin took with him. Then, he walked out of the rail car, and into the dark tunnels beyond. But, there was no light to see, and he could barely see, anyway. Perrin tripped over a rail, hit his head on a nearby car, and fell to the ground, unconscious once more.

"And you're positive that he's not someone who'll be missed?" asked Arturo, walking side by side with Tucson. The two were walking through the dark tunnel together, towards the elf's home. "The police don't take it well when important people vanish in the sewers."

"He's not anyone important," snapped back the elf, surprised by his own vehemence. "He's a Coalition spy."

"If you say so," said Arturo, shrugging his shoulders. The two finally reached Tucson's car, and entered.

Perrin was woken by the sound of a high-pitched scream. He got to his feet unsteadily, and looked around him. His vision was really messed up, swimming and pitching crazily, and his head ached with a horrible throbbing pain. The burster's rail car was alight with fire, and another shriek came from within.

"Lying bastard!" thundered a voice which Perrin had never heard before. "You promised me a meal, and by all the gods, I mean to collect!"

"Please!" begged Jack's rescuer. "I'll find him for you! He can't have gone far! Please! Just a few minutes and you can have him!"

"I no longer desire his blood! I want yours!"

Jack considered his options. He decided that whatever was inside the car, probably a vampire, would probably hunt him down soon after finishing off the burster. However, the psychic HAD betrayed him, so maybe it would be better to let the man die. Perrin had begun to walk off, when he felt a slight twinge within him. It was something he had not felt for months. Conscience.

"Altruistic dunce," he muttered to himself, as he trudged off to the burning rail car.

Perrin ascended the steps, and saw a raging inferno inside. The elf was standing at the center of a bonfire and frantically causing minute explosions of flame all around. A tall, youngish man with burning clothes that had once been of good quality, stood at the edge of the flames, trying to protect his handsome face with his hands. Only when he pulled his hands away could Perrin see the pair of bestial fangs.

"Smile pretty now," Perrin grunted. He held the elf's silver medallion out in front of the gun, and tried, with great difficulty, to aim properly. The vampire turned, saw the gun and the silver, and began to charge the human in an attempt to snatch both away.

Jack fired. The bullet went straight through the medallion, biting off a sizable chunk of silver. The metal-coated slug hit the vampire's belly, tearing through his fine clothing, and ripped into the foul creature's withered organs. Shrieking in pain, Arturo fell the floor, clutching his bleeding flesh and rolling around in agony.

Suddenly, the vampire exploded into greenish mist, which began to fade out of the windows.

"Well," gasped Tucson, mentally extinguishing the raging fires in the tube car. "I suppose that I owe you some thanks. And an apology."

Perrin tossed the shattered medallion away, and pointed the pistol at the elf. "Give me one reason I shouldn't blow your fucking head off," he rasped.

"Because I could have left you for the military police. And they hate Coalition spies."

Perrin paused for a moment, thinking it over. He then tucked the handgun into a pocket. "Good point," he muttered. "Very good point indeed."

Meanwhile, in the back room of a nearby bar, the Human Freedom Association was meeting. Its members included some of the toughest mercenaries to grace the Tolkeen area, including more than a few Crazies, Juicers, and Borgs. Although the group was typically rowdy and boisterous, everyone put away their beer mugs and listened intently as their leader, the Crazy nicknamed "Rick Freedom" spoke.

"Soon, we will be able to throw off the shackles of our cruel society!" he boasted, the coolant plugs in his head rising and falling out of his skull as his adrenaline levels rose and fell. "We all saw the air battle which happened yesterday, in which the horrid magic pigs shot down a plane, a plane which a human was flying!"

"Well, my sources have informed me that the flyer of that plane was an ace from the Coalition, named Jack Perrin! I also have learned that the fascists have not found him yet!! This man will be our link, our envoy to the Coalition States. Through him, we shall get our orders from the greatest government humanity ever produced. But in order to do that and fulfill our purpose, we must first find him, before the military police do."

Next Chapter

By David Haendler.

Copyright © 1996, 1997, 1998 David Haendler. All Rights Reserved.