Agent Shield and Spaceman

The flammenstod represented a class of magic most sorcerers avoided. The version of reality permitting such pernicious weapons tended to leave marks. She could feel its influence burn through her arm, shooting tendrils of flame deep inside of her chest. She cast her hands forward, a whisper of energy leaping toward the assembled priests. Some of the priests had studied the arcane, and knew enough to attempt feeble counters, the rest died. The Master was clawing at the sides of the palanquin, desperate to call help to his side. Never had a choice, thought D. Spaceman raised no counters, or did so much as flinch. A service revolver appeared in his hand and he fired. D felt the impact as a kind of hammer stroke against the whole side of her body. She staggered, the pain a cold iron vise around her chest and shoulder. Spaceman approached. “You won’t stop this,” he told her. His voice was distant, almost lost within the cacophony of spreading flame and screaming priests. A hiss escaped fro...

“Do not worry,” said Necropolis. He was sitting at one of the pews, his legs kicked up on the headrest in front of him. There was a hymn book flopped over one knee and Nikolas was smiling. “What we need to do is not complicated.” “Are we talking about the ten-hour long ceremony with an entire freight car of exotic compounds and rare animal parts, and enough priests for a baseball game? That ceremony? The Gemini program seems somewhat less complicated.” “Reasonably complicated, is how I’d describe it.” “Then what are you talking about?” “The ceremony is window-dressing. I need the priests and their descendants to keep this place sacred and unmolested, and they need something to believe in. We both get something. “No, Spaceman, what I was referring to was your part in all of this. All you have to do is survive. After that your life will become as complicated or as simple as your will dictates.” “I don’t buy that either.” It was late in the day, and the change had begun for Necropolis. Hi...

Marcus and D sat in the land-rover on a low rise above the town of Santa Rosa. Every few minutes, Marcus turned away from the town to search the broken and desolate terrain behind them. “Timing is going to be crucial,” he said. “He’ll be here.” Marcus wasn’t so sure. The whole scenario was screwy and depraved. In a situation that clearly called for finesse and stealth, D was adamant for what amounted to a showdown at high noon. After his overture to Spaceman, their path was as clear and direct as the road leading down in Santa Rosa. That fact tasted coppery in his mouth, like a bit lip. They waited a minute longer and just as Marcus made to turn around again, D spoke. “He’s wavering,” she said. “Go to him.” “He’s not going to listen to me.” “He will absolutely not listen to me.” After what she asked of him, Marcus tended to agree. The dust and gravel crunched under foot and his breath streamed out around him in the chilly air. The vegetation around the town was sparse but peculiar. The...

The one formal road leading into and out of Santa Rosa terminated at the white chapel named “Abode of the Undying Affection of the Virgin Mother for her Blessed Child of Holy Sacrament.” On either side of the road, which while unpaved was kept neat and level, one story wooden buildings stood; some were homes, others businesses. Nothing offered much shade. The day was miserably hot; Shield found himself constantly mopping at the back of his neck with a hand towel. This might be D's mission but he wasn't going to give up Spaceman without a fight. Maybe she was right and he was beyond help. He knew upon setting foot in Peru that he would need to see that with his own eyes. So, he strode into town alone and unarmed. The first of these was by choice, the other was not. As a condition for him coming here, D had insisted he do nothing to provoke the Master. There would be a time for that, she assured him, but not yet. Shield was not entirely happy to be striding into the hornet’s ...

In Frankie’s mind, the plan was simple: D lead the way. He was in a curious frame of mind; fatalistic but oddly satisfied. D had filled them in about her role in all of this. It was as a detailed a mission brief as Frankie had ever been privy too, and among the least illuminating. Before departing to requisition some Peruvian paramilitaries in case the agents botched their surgical strike, LeHaze asked D what sort of resistance they could expect. “All of the vermin of the earth.” “Could we be a bit more specific?” “Scorpions will be a problem.” Whatever they’d face, she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Everything Frankie needed fit neatly into a single duffel bag. Shield received a change of clothing and a toiletry bag. D was still doing inventory on the three crates they found waiting for her in a dusty section of the Lima airport. Frankie had surreptitiously looked at one of the invoices and discovered the listing “assorted dried animal parts.” Fair enough. Frankie was accustomed t...

It didn’t take long for Spaceman to discover what had happened at Port Adelaide. The simple fact was the people of the church liked Spaceman. They were rooting for him. Freed for the first time in decades from the junk, Spaceman found it easy, almost liberating, to simply be charming. That this brought the knock-on effect of bending their loyalties to him was a pleasant surprise. “I told him that he should not attempt the rescue,” said Iglesias. Despite the transparent lie, Spaceman smiled. Iglesias meant well and that counted for more than a little. “You did the right thing,” Spaceman comforted the slender, nervous man. “Where can I find The Master?” “He has not left his quarters in many days,” and seemed once more nervous. This reaction mystified Spaceman until he realized Iglesias had assumed they all already knew this. The preparations for the transference had claimed most of his attention. Spaceman saw that he had put himself in an awkward position, the assumed...

The Supreme Archon arrived the next morning and entered the Master’s chamber with an obsequious bow. “We have located the other vessel, my lord,” the Archon said in a soft voice. The Master’s trust for him had not wavered despite the many years since their last conversation. If only the Archon had possessed the traits he needed for a vessel. It would have made many things simpler. But alas, The Master had to make do with this man’s unwavering support. “Where?” The Master said. The night’s decrepitude was lingering on his current body, the youth of Nicholaus slow to return to his body. “Australia. Adelaide.” “Do we have resources in place?” “Soon.” The Master succumbed to gravity and let his still frail body fall back onto the bed. To kill or capture. He did not trust Spaceman but Hugo’s incompetence couldn’t be overlooked. Perhaps a struggle was required. Bring Simplex to the church unbeknownst to Spaceman and let them duel for the privilege of being ...

Part 3: The church, Inglesia del Amor Inmortal de la Virgen Madre por su Santisima Nino de Santo Sacremento, stood as it always had, at the back of the town at the end of the road in the middle of Atacama Desert. A long, long time ago the ground beneath the inglesia had been a temple, a simple stepped mound of the sort The Master commissioned everywhere he stayed more than a fortnight. At some point those original people disappeared and the sand swallowed all their labor. The church offended him. All these later religions were either acts of rebellion or the crude approximations of his dreams, nothing but the work of people. He had little respect for those. Back when he had dwelled in this part of the world he had been known as “The Staff God,” a fertility god for the most part. They credited him with the advent of potatoes, or quinoa, or maize. He tended to lose track after a while. He had not created every animal of use to mankind in the world but some of his more drastic i...