Skip to main content

Chapter LII

The tiny submarine surfaced north of the Antarctic circle on June 22nd. The passengers were able to establish contact with a listening station in New Zealand and eventually got routed to a secure line with the Chief. Marcus was at first tempted to lock himself in the forward cabin with the radio but what would be the point? It was clear from the Chief’s incredulous tone he had long written off the entire team.

“I simply not understand how you could abandon a member of your team on the field, Shield,” the Chief said.

“He abandoned us, sir!” Marcus said, about to smash his crippled hand on the radio board before thinking better of it. “He turned double agent, Chief. Both Simplex and LeHaze confirmed it.”

Simplex, lashed to one of the fold-down chairs in the cabin, shouted over to the radio. “It’s true!”

Frankie shot him a look from the pilot chair of the sub. Simplex gave a half-hearted smile and then regained his silence. Melissa looked up from her control panel and shrugged.

“You would credit the word of a criminal mastermind and a CIA agent over your own partner? Spaceman took you under his wing, Shield. This is how you repay him?”

Marcus looked at the radio board. Not for the first time he wondered why they were bothering to get back to Section Starfire. “Look. We have capture Simplex. We would like to turn him over to the authorities. Where would you like that to happen?”

The radio remained silent. Marcus was about to ask if the Chief was still on the line when it crackled back to life.

“You will proceed North West to Adelaide, Australia. At such time Simplex will be released into the custody of the local government.”

“Then what?”

“Then you will meet me in Washington D.C. for a full accounting of you and your team’s actions during this debacle.”

“Or we could go straight to Pearl Harbor or Guam or any number of other places. Why are we going to Australia?”

“Those are your orders, Agent Shield. Make them happen.”

The radio clicked off and Marcus sat back.

“Nothing like a little gratitude,” Simplex said softly.

Marcus rubbed at the back of his neck. It was cramped in the submarine and the air inside the cabin reeked.

“I need some fresh air,” he said. “Frankie can you manage?”

“Been managing.”

The ceiling of the galley had a small hatch leading to a con tower. In a craft only the size of a yacht, this didn’t seem like the best use of space but perhaps it was an unwritten rule that soviet submarines had to have con tower. In any case, he welcomed the chance to stand out in the chilly polar air, breathing in the salty wind. Far off near the horizon a lone albatross glided over the white-caps. The ocean rocked the small craft with dismaying urgency.

Their mission was over. His second mission of record and probably his last. When all was said and done, he had survived and captured of the head of a now defunct terrorist group. They had uncovered and watched a here-to-fore unknown soviet base collapse and sink into the Ross Sea. They had uncovered and then joined forces with a CIA double agent. If that was all he ever did for Section Starfire, he’d be fine with that.

The cry of the albatross reached him. The sound haunted him, magnified his loneliness. He lowered his head, feeling the ocean swell around him, each wave arising from mysterious points beyond the horizon to crash unseen on distant shores.

D appeared below, and he nearly tumbled from the conn tower.

“D!” he said, recovering. “You’re up.”

D looked up at him. “We need to go to South America.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re going to Australia. That’s our destination?”

“That’s...that's where we’re going, yes,” Marcus said. “D, how are you on your feet?”

“Bullets are of little concern to me.”


“We must go to the Atacama Desert. We must finish our mission.”

Why did everyone think that their mission wasn’t over? “D, our team is exhausted. You’ve been shot. We need to get back to civilization as soon as possible.”

She scowled. “This will be a lot easier with your cooperation, Marcus. The danger is still present and growing. We must go to Peru before it’s too late.”

Marcus was about to protest but D had already disappeared out of view of the hatch. Marcus remained in the conn tower for a few minutes, watching the endless waves. Of course the mission wasn’t done. They weren’t all dead yet; how could it be over?


Popular posts from this blog

Chapter I

When the light came back on, the room was empty save for a corpse and two baffled agents of Section Starfire, the premier Anarchist Spy Agency employed by the United States government. Two trained pairs of eyes quickly scanned the room and found it devoid of anything worth mentioning besides an old battle-scarred table along one wall and a book shelf against the other and, of course, the body of the man Spaceman had just shot. For his part, Marcus Delacroix, Agent Shield, stood across the room from him, blinking in the sudden light, unable to focus. On the table by his right hand was a squat metal object about the same color and shape as a wheel of cheddar cheese. Instantly recognizing this object, Spaceman allowed himself a rare moment of panic. Pushing past Marcus, Space dashed to the door and tried the handle. Inevitably, it was locked. “Do you know what this is?” said Marcus, slowly regaining his faculties. “Yes,” said Spaceman as he darted

Chapter LXII

It took only thirty-six hours for a Section Sanitation Team to arrive at Santa Rosa. Leaving the town a smoking ruin was a non-option, especially with half the world on the look out for the Anti-Cerebrists. It did surprise Shield to see The Chief leading the Sanitation Team. In the year or so he’d been an active field agent, he’d never heard of The Chief traveling more than five miles outside of D.C. The expression on his face suggested travel did not agree with him. “We would have, of course, preferred if you had taken him alive.” Shield looked around the remains of the town. Which him was he referring to? “Sir, Spaceman resisted D with the apparently preternatural assistance of The Master. It was all D could do to put him down.” “I wasn’t referring to Spaceman, I meant the Master.” Ah, Shield thought, well that was a bit more awkward. “Actually, sir, he simply died. By the time Agent Two-Eyes and myself had come down from the bluff, he was already in cardiac arrest. Believe me when I


Imagine a space of incredible volume. Now place within its center an enormous ball of hydrogen and helium, collapsing against its own fiery detonation. Imagine a fireball so big that the force of its own illumination prevents light from its center from escaping for millions of years. Now picture the left-over bits from the star’s ignition spinning around in orbit, slowly accreting together over a staggering length of time. This is the stage. This where all of the acts appear, lit from this ancient fiery torch. This where all of the tragedies and comedies that have ever happened and will ever happen, happen. Are you getting the hang of it? Can you see this place, this domain? For as long as there are people and intelligences able to record impressions and ideas, this will be the only home of anyone who reads these words. But don’t feel so bad. The solar system is a big place and perhaps bigger than most might know. For within this enormous system, the