___________________________________ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Otherworld <> Chapter 13 :: FORWARD :: Copyright 1992 by Bryce Koike All Rights Reserved ___________________________________ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Any comments, criticisms, opinions, etc, are welcome. I can be reached on Internet as: bkoike@sdcc13.ucsd.edu -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Date: September 16, 1996 Location: Mid-Eastern America Otherworld Time: 9:45 pm The woman wiped the sweat from her brow. A shadow of wrinkles around here eyes were already beginning to show. They conflicted strangely with her youth. Somewhere, a t.v. was playing old commercials. "Never let them see you sweat," the t.v. spurted. She did not laugh. The rifle in her hands felt strange and alien. She activated the recorder in her hands. She had saved the tapes that Matt had made and took the time to listen to them on occasion, to remind herself of what he had been like. Finally, finally, she had worked up the courage to speak about him. "He died four years ago, today, not in his homeland, but on foreign soil, no matter how familiar it seemed," she began. "And despite his flaws, he was a human. Somehow, that gave him the strength and the resolve to sacrifice his petty life for a handful of people he called his friends. "His name was Matthew Ryuko and he was only nineteen years old." "Ma'am?" She turned and looked at a soldier. Young. He had the look of a Basalian about him. "Yes, soldier?" "Sir, there's a Quunan Mur embassador here to see you." "Thank you." She stood and her knees did not cry out. She was thankful for her youth, despite the disadvantages it gave her. Being an attractive, young woman was not a desirable trait in the leader of military forces. Entering the combat room, she could already make out the gleaming metal of the Quunan Mur soldiers. One of them stood. Four stripes wound their way around its forceps. It bowed. "I am Tunush del Bakan," it said in its incredibly perfect voice, "sent by my leader, Looke-Shamal." "I'm Captain Tracy Weaver," she said. The cyborg paused for a moment. "You are young to hold such a high rank in your military." "I'm ambitious. Please, sit. I won't waste my time offering you something to drink." She walked over to the sink and poured a cup of coffee. She was conscious of the guards' stares as she walked, their eyes probably following her ass. As she turned, she glared and their eyes snapped straight forward. "Why are you here?" Tracy finally asked, taking her seat at the head of the table. Barely moving, the embassador said, "You do fine work here." She sighed. "You were all so much more damned concise back in the beginning. Whoever taught you the skills for small talk should be shot. Cut the crap, just tell me why you're here." "Soldiers -- human soldiers -- have been requesting for several weeks now for you to lead them on the west coast of this nation. We have come to ask for you to come." "And leave this operation behind? Hell no. We've paid in lives, Tunush, and I'm not about to abandon everything to come running just because my reputation demands it." "You could leave another behind to lead your army. All the soldiers wish is for you to lead them. I am certain that the communications network has brought you word of how we fare." Tracy sighed. The Eternals' war groups in Southern California had been far better prepared for war than those in the north. They also seemed to be receiving reinforcements from unknown areas. SoCal was proving to be the biggest hotspot on the American continents. "So why not?" she asked herself. "Put Martique in charge -- you know he can do it. They could use you, right?" Inevitably her thoughts returned to Him. Four years ago, today. She shivered inside. Matt. Matthew Ryuko, student of UC Irvine, 19 years old. Deceased. Four long years. The tears came unbidden and she did her best to choke them back. "And if I were to return with you?" she asked. The cyborg angled its head for a moment as it thought. "You would be placed directly under General Kazzan." "I want a separate command answerable only to me." "We are not certain if that is possible." Tracy crossed her arms. "It's the only way you'll get me to come. And I want a full squad of Quunan Mur soldiers permanently attached to this command here." "You demand a lot for your services." The cyborgs turned to each other and spoke via their own methods. No body language betrayed their emotions, if they felt any at all. "Your presence is desirable," announced the leader finally, "and worth the trade you suggest. You will receive command of the third legion under General Kazzan and will be fully autonomous. As such, however, you will cease to be under military jurisdiction or economic aid." "Understandable." "Is this acceptable?" "Yes." The cyborgs rose with that unearthly grace and bowed deeply. Tracy rose and held out her hand. After a moment's thought, Tunush del Bakan gently shook. "When would you like to leave?" Tracy asked. "Now would be preferable. Your soldiers are waiting for your command as we speak." "Bastard. You knew what I'd ask." The cyborg bowed. If they could smile, it'd be grinning, Tracy decided. "Of course. We are the Quunan Mur." As they marched out of the combat room, Tracy turned to a private. "Find Vincent Santiago and tell him to get his ass out of the computer room and get his shit together," she ordered. "And while you're at it, contact Lieutenant Martique and tell him that he's been upped to Captain and has been given full command of this operation. I'm going to California." The man didn't even blink, he simply turned and ran. Tracy looked toward the sky and felt glad that it was blue. There were strange rumors about things going on in Southern California. Magic, experiments, demonic beasts running the streets of Los Angeles. She shuddered. The city was slowly being turned into something the Eternals would call home. Pits exhaled a red mist into the sky, turning the sun bloody. Scientists were working on its complete chemical makeup, but it did seem to be somewhat breathable. Still, red skies. She looked to the Quunan Mur. "This will be a long campaign, won't it?" It nodded. "We might not even win." Something inside Tracy made her look forward to it with a grim fascination.