Nicholas Calen, Void Engineer

And there was a thunderous 'kaboom'   

[Geneva,Venice, June 18-19]

The three of us from within the bank took our rented limo back to the hotel and picked up our belongings. Taking off in my car, we noticed that the Interpol agent was true to his word. We were being followed, and if he was to be believed, that would be the situation until we left to return to the US. Only one thing for it, we had to go back. Or at least seem that way.

I pulled up a list of appropriate contacts and found just what I was looking for. Matthieu Haverlen, charter pilot with an ACJ who had done some useful work for the VE in the past. Based out of Florence. Perfect. I got in touch with him and explained what we needed.

Shortly after takeoff, we...well, I...parachuted out to land in a field outside of Venice, while the jet continued on its merry way to New York. Mark and Mac somehow managed to meet me on the ground. I decided not to ask any questions.

Anyhow, we made our way into Venice proper where we shortly managed to pick up yet another tail. Several of them. And there seemed to be more gathering as we walked. I informed Mac and Mark, and we decided to face off with them and find out what they wanted, so we ducked down an alley and out of sight.

Of course, it was a blind alley. The templars, as they turned out to be, demanded to know where the library was, for they knew that we knew. We told them about the Cathedral of St. Michel, but they didn't buy it. Already checked it out, it seems. I guess this is the other shoe I was waiting on.

I have to confess, at this point, I let my temper get the better of me. I'd been carrying the plasma caster for awhile by this point, and was about sick of people being assholes to me. That said, I probably still shouldn't have fired it at them. The backlash scorched my eyebrows off. Again. But it was effective, I have to admit.

I wonder if those buildings collapsed after we took off...?

Enter the Library   

[Venice, June 19]

After dispatching with our assailants, Mac, Mark, and I headed for the rendez-vous with the others. As we headed towards the cafe where we were to meet with Derrick, Kyle, Johnny, and Arden we noticed a large crowd had gathered, and apparently a fight was in progress.

While normally I would just assume that either Arden was flirting with several men at once or Derrick had insulted someone for the fun of it, I had a feeling it was more of our friends.

The temptation to fire another blast from the plasma caster into the crowd was tempting, especially with Derrick at the center of it, but it's strictly against protocol to use weapons like that in full view of members of the public. Those you expect might survive seeing it, anyway. Besides, I had a feeling we'd probably need Johnny and I wasn't sure I could keep him out of the blast and still hit most of the templars.

There was what you might call a great deal of fisticuffs going on, as you might expect from Mr. Kung-fu grip, but they, and once they saw us, we, were significantly outnumbered.

Together again, outnumbered about 5 to 1 by people with some sort of oddball energy signature I'd never seen before. I was just reaching for the plasma cannon, figuring I had nothing to lose at that point when Johnny looked over at me and shouted something. I don't think he liked the idea, but suddenly his eyes...blazed...is the only word I had for it. And we were elsewhere. It took me a few seconds to realize where - it was like a quantum inversion field transport, but without any of the equipment.

Never mind that we were suddenly floating in Near Earth Orbit.

Without a ship.

Or enviornment suits.

I instinctively went into my sudden pressure loss training, but somehow, and I don't really want to think about how even now, we weren't suffering explosive decompression.

It was like a bubble had been generated around us. I just hoped whatever had happened was over quick, and judging from how wiped Johnny was looking, I figured it would be.

Sure enough, we...popped...back out planetside, having shifted several blocks in the city, where we stood outside of the grate we had pinpointed as the entrance to the library.

There seemed to be no way to open it, but I assumed we had been given the Ixos potion for a reason. Surely enough, a couple drops on the cover and it swung open and we stepped inside.

Into the library of the Ksirafai.

Proscribed Info   

[Venice, June 19, Library of the Ksirifai]

The library was incredible. Huge, with scrolls, tomes, books stacked all the way up to the 30 foot ceilings.

A quick glance around showed that the place was at least divided and organized loosely into sections. One area caught my eye almost immediately. A sealed area, with a heavy, locked door. Big sign saying 'Proscribed'.

Somehow, I knew that's where we'd find the information we wanted. We hunted around for a key, and found a large ring of them in the drawer of a desk off to one side of the main room.

Arden through her tarot cards around a bit, then announced that the book we were looking for was called The Path of the Voracious Beast. Sounded like a fun read.

Apparently, the Ksirifai harnessed some sort of outsider to serve as a guardian - an extraplanar librarian, so to speak.

I decided not to inquire too deeply, but instead took the key and entered the proscribed section. It was certainly an odd sensation - there must have been some sort of permeable energy barrier around that section that I was only able to pass once I had the key, because I definitely felt the sensation of some sort of field.

Pulled the book we needed, then left and relocked the proscribed room. Something about books being chained down is just kind of weird. I've got enough oddity to deal with, saw no reason to add to it.

Seekers of the Void   

[Venice, June 19, Library of the Ksirifai]

I found an interesting book apparently written by one of the old Celestial Masters regarding the first voyage into deep space.

Turns out he was expecting to see some strange things, though not as strange as he found. They came back with some interesting discoveries, though, including the logs of first contact with a non-human civilization in the void. Another civilized planet, highly advanced.

Turns out that was where the first samples of ionic material came from, the basis for my own uniform.

Unfortunately, this civiliaztion wiped themselves out in some sort of apocalypse. Not a particularly great omen, if you believed in that sort of thing.

I found several other books regarding the history of the Seekers of the Void. Kind of interesting, and at least it was something to keep me occupied while the rest of them futzed around trying to find the info we needed on Oak Island.

Resolution   

[Venice, June 19, Library of the Ksirifai]

One of Derrick's contacts apparently got a message through to him while everyone was exploring the library. Told him about the shit going down between the VE's and the rest of the Union, as well as the fact that ItX had gone on the Pogrom warpath and he needed to watch himself.

Kind of a pity, I had rather been hoping they'd find the arrogant ass and wipe him out for me...

He came and found me, though, where I'd been waiting outside keeping a guard up. The others had been trying something monumentally stupid. Wanted to get into a locked case with some sort of artifacts that had obviously been sealed away for a reason. Apparently even the golden boy had gotten smacked around some, despite whatever influence was looking out for him.

Despite the fact that everything within the library basically told them 'Don't fuck with this', they went ahead. So I made sure I was well away.

Anyhow, Derrick came out to let me know that after a great deal of pyrotechnics, everyone had given up on the case and had located some back doors out of the library.

That wasn't all he had to say though. He told me what he'd learned, that the VE's had turned on the other Conventions, taking a stand against the corruption within Control, and that he respected that.

I thought it was some sort of trap to get me to lower my guard. I guess holding the cannon on him would have made anyone nervous, though.

As much as I hate to admit it, the asshole did have a point about us having a common enemy. And despite the bad blood between us, I think he honestly regretted his actions earlier.

I still don't trust him, but maybe, just maybe, I can let him live.

A Talk with the Witch   

[Geneva, June 17]

Arden keeps surprising me.

Last night before we left Geneva for Venice, I was sleeping in my room at the hotel, and a dream came to me - the same one I've had before, reliving that night in Mexico, with the lupines, and watching Jason die. I've almost gotten used to it, so it doesn't bother me as much as it once did, but it's still not exactly pleasant.

This time, though, it was different. Instead of being me, I was one of the lupines, attacking my own comrades. I'd just been shot, and was turning on one of the marines, when I awoke, sweating and out of breath, and stared right at Arden Vervain.

She told me it might have been her fault that I'd had the nightmare.

I pushed her off my bed and told her to get the hell out of my room. She grabbed one of my hands and went off on a lecture about how I was troubled, and she just wanted to help, but I didn't really want to listen so I wrenched my hand out of her grasp, shoved her against the wall, and told her I didn't want her help.

She wasn't about to back down, though, and smacked me a good one - the next thing I knew, there was a...I don't know...flare of power from her hands and we flew apart, landing on opposite sides of the room.

I was really angry, when the absurdity of the situation hit me. I realized I was in my boxers and she was wearing nothing more than a flimsy nightgown, now torn and exposing her breasts, and here we were fighting like a couple of street urchins.

She giggled, and I started to chuckle...before I knew it, we were caught in a feedback loop of laughing - neither of us could seem to stop. Every time we tried, the other's laughter just got us going again.

It took several minutes for us to settle down and catch our breaths. She asked about the scar, then. I guess it's hard not to. I've gotten used to it, but then I really don't have to look at it - just the feel of it, sometimes, in the shower, or whatever. A glimpse of the tip of it curling over my shoulder in the mirror.

I told her about the were-wolves, then. About how Jason had died saving my life, and how I had vowed to rid the world of the beasts. I figured she would be horrified, aghast at how I could possibly feel so casual about killing off an entire race, but she understood.

She said something like 'The garou didn't kill your body, but its claws wounded your spirit.' I thought it was more mystical bullshit, but it was...nice...that someone understood my anger with them for a change. I knew, even among other VEs, that my crusade was generally viewed as overzealous, at best, and irrational, at worst.

She actually seemed to agree with me though. Who knew?

Turns out the lupines have reason for wanting her dead as well. Something about a line of vampires targeting her for being a powerful gypsy, and they want to kill her before the vampires get to her.

Maybe the lupines will attack us and I'll get to blow some away. Maybe some vampires will attack us, and I'll get to blow some away.

I'd prefer lupines. Far more satisfying.

Out of the Library       

[Venice, June 19 / Aix, July 14]

We agreed that we'd learned what we needed and decided it was time to be about it. The others had found some doors that apparently had a quantum inversion field generator on them, as they opened from the library onto a field in southern France. It was a very smooth transition, I was impressed.

As soon as we arrived in the field, I pulled out the GPS and took a look at our location. Southern France, sure enough, about 14 miles outside of Aix. Then I noticed the timestamp from the satellite.

July 14. Over three and a half weeks since we entered the library. The damn thing is a construct! And one outside of the normal timestream. That might explain why nothing in there had deteriorated. And would certainly help shield its location.

Anyhow, I quickly checked into the news. Sterling had overcome most of the legal issues stopping him and planned to begin serious excavation within a couple weeks. We'll need to get over to Fairfax.

Right, need to check the VE nets...access denied. Shit. This isn't good. Try the backups Hwang gave me...no. My own codes, my real ones...also locked out.

What the hell is going on? Got a single message waiting, though. Looks like it's from Meyers...

Pariah   

[Aix, July 14]

It grieves me to send this to you, but I thought it would be better coming from someone who was once a friend. I believe you are who you say, but my beliefs are not enough to justify the risk of bringing you in at this time. Given our current state of isolation from the rest of the Union, we can't possibly allow a potential intrusion agent access to us or our facilities, especially knowing that the Prgn created some clones based on your genetic sequence.

I'm sorry, Nicholas, but we have to cut you out of the net. I know what this means for you - all I can suggest is trying to hack the overrides on your implants before ItX goes absolutely apeshit.

Good luck. Maybe we'll all survive this to see each other again after all.

So that's it. My own attempts to cover my tracks with the clone records come back to bite me on the ass.

No longer a marine. No longer a VE. Simply a rogue. ItX won't hesitate to kill me, and I can hardly turn to the Traditions, even if I wanted to. They'd tell me I was getting precisely what I deserved. And the damnable part is, they'd be right.

We made our way to Aix, some farmer gave us a lift. I think Arden gave him a little 'satisfaction', or something. I'd have thought that was more of Kyle's expertise, but whatever.

The farmer dropped us off at the market, and Mac started looking through the contacts Hwang had left him with Avalon. I left them standing there and just wandered off into the city.

Eventually, I found myself at a bar. This at least I could understand.

Several hours later I stumbled into the hotel room the others had thoughtfully booked for me and slept dreamlessly.

Access Denied   

[Nice, July 16]
I got up the next morning with a predictably terrible headache. Some tablets from the medkit helped, and it's not like anyone was going to find it unusual for me to be wearing the shades anyhow.

Apparently our Avalon contact, Jason Dixon, had sent a van for us. We climbed in and he told us that Derrick and Johnny needed to settle up with Interpol. There wasn't really enough evidence to hold them, and if they went and gave the authorities a story about camping for the past few weeks, the two should be able to get clear.

Beyond that, he was going to arrange various flights for all of us to get back to the states. I listened with half an ear, most of my attention focused inwards, trying to circumvent the overrides on my implants, to no avail.

I have to admit, I know how to use the damn thing as it's intended, but when it comes to hacking around the safeguards, I'm lost.

We arrived in Nice and checked in, where I went straight to my room and kept at it. For hours I tried everything I could think of to bypass the security, and got nowhere.

Finally I just lost it. Inside my VR, I trashed my office. Ripped the portraits off the walls - Maria, my parents, Jason and me back on the Cop, my company back at A51, shredded and flung across the room. Even tore down my Medal of Valor and ripped up the commendation. Threw the chair into the monitor screens that told me nothing other than 'Access Denied' or 'Contact Lost'. It was childish, and stupid, but I suppose it's better than drawing attention by trashing the hotel room.

With a thought, I cleared it all away. Nothing left but my chair, a desk, and the monitor screens, repaired. If I was cut off, I wanted nothing in here to remind me of my past.

I left a couple of the screens on, still listening for any traffic over Union or VE channels, but they stayed blank.

I have to face the truth, though. There's no way I can do this. Which means that when all hell really breaks loose, and ItX starts sending out override codes, my implants are going to be wide open to them. With the VE about to wage an all out assault on the rest of the Union, there's no doubt they'll use those codes.

And then I'll be dead. And as if fate were determined to have the final laugh, the implants in Mac's head don't have those overrides. They're all experimental, VE designed. ItX never touched them, so he doesn't have to worry.

Dammit, I'm not going out like this. I'm sitting here, recording my thoughts, and looking out the window at the evening sky. The stars that were once my home never looked so distant...so cold. I have to trust that my brethren are still keeping watch, knowing their duty, even as they leave me to mine.

And my duty is to the Precepts. Nothing will ever change that. Even if it means taking drastic measures. This mission is all that matters now.

My world is inside out, my duties upside down.

And if I have to swallow my pride and ask for help...well, at least Mac owes me a favor.

Asking for Help       

[Nice, July 16]
I dialed Mac's room, and asked him to come by mine - told him that I needed his help.

The words were bitter, but I got them out. I think he was stunned, but he agreed, and I pulled the little bottle of Jack Daniels out of the minibar, knocked it back, then sat back to wait.

I think his curiosity must have gotten the better of him, because it didn't take him long. I quickly explained to him what I needed - that there were software overrides in my implant that would soon be activated. I still don't know when the attack is scheduled to begin, but Itx won't waste time when it does.

They would know everything I know, they would know where we are, and what we were doing. And then I would die, and they would send agents for the rest of the team.

It was pretty easy to see him puffing himself up at the thought that I needed his help. It galls me to have to admit it, but there's noone else to whom I can turn.

Can I trust him? I've no idea. But I've no choice. So I let him in, and there he was, standing in my virtual office. His smug attitude just got worse. He commented on how Spartan it appeared. Well, he had no way of knowing I'd just redesigned it, and why should I care what he thinks anyway?

I showed him the access panels and he sat down to it.

He was good. Damn him. I couldn't even follow everything he was doing to the code. There was one point where he screwed something up, I felt the tic in my eyebrow, but he caught himself and patched it. Fucker probably did it on purpose.

He stopped at one point, and I thought he was going to say something - he looked really angry, but he calmed down pretty quickly.

I slipped into the system myself and saw that he'd found my journals. Probably found the bit where I'd copied his own diaries for myself - that would explain why he got over it, I guess. Hard to have righteous anger if you're being hypocritical at the same time. Still, I should have thought to eliminate those records first. Damn it.

Eventually he looked up at me, and I didn't care for his expression. Turned out there was one failsafe that he can't do anything about from within the system.

A hardwired, last resort, remotely triggered cortex bomb. I knew about it, of course. In the event of my death, it was designed to destroy the implants, and my head, preventing the information in my neural net from falling into enemy hands.

What I hadn't realized was that it had the remote trigger. And with no links to it from the main system, Mac couldn't get at it to neutralize that threat. It would require surgery. I've got some basic repair tools in my kit bag, but defusing a detonator with little more than a fine-control plasma solderer doesn't inspire a great deal of confidence in success.

I thanked Mac for his help, then kicked him out of my VR.

I'd exposed myself to one I can only see as an adversary, and the end result is no different now than before. The signal will still be sent, and I'll still die.

Another Alternative       

[Nice, July 16]
I told Mac to get out, that what I had to wasn't going to be pretty. He seemed fairly concerned, but I didn't think he'd be much help as I cut the side of my head open. There's enough gear in my medkit to let me make the try, though it wasn't too likely I'd suceed.

He wouldn't go, though. And despite everything...I was glad.

After all we'd been through, done to each other, had done to us by the other's allies...he stayed. He could have left me there, to seal my own fate. Wiped out a symbol of everything that had caused him and his family so much pain. All it would have taken was for him to walk out the door and he would have had some vengeance.

He stayed. And gave me back my life.

He knew what I intended to do, and just shook his head, smiling. Not the smug smile he'd had earlier, but that of a teacher with an interesting lesson. He told me what he wanted to do - to use deviant magics to go in and defuse the bomb that way. I was...terrified. I had no idea how to go about it, and as he didn't know the right procedures, he couldn't do it himself. Never mind the fact that he knows nothing about defusing explosives.

That, at least, I'm competent at. That didn't help me with what he was trying to explain, though. He wanted me to close my eyes and concentrate on the implants. 'Feel the thread of matter, the inorganics amongst the living tissue', he said.

I thought he was insane. Not for the first time. Then I began to see it. I nearly shouted out as I started to perceive the pathways and circuits of the implant. As I explored, it went from frightening to euphoric. I could 'feel' my implants. And I could see the bomb.

I don't know how to describe it. Just a small sphere, a dab of QTN explosive, a detonator, and a receiver. I just had to disarm it, with no tools, and no idea how I was 'seeing' it in the first place. I started to panic, but Mac was there again. 'Just give it a push', he said. Yeah, easy. My only consolation was that if I screwed up and set it off, he was close enough to get caught in the blast.

I concentrated on the receiver. Far less sensitive than the detonator or the compound itself. And it worked. With a 'push', as he called it, I fused the receiver's internals into nothing more than a lifeless chunk of metal ore.

I blinked as I returned to 'reality'. And realized that my concepts of reality were going to need redefining.

Establishing my Identity   

[Nice, July 17]
The next morning I set up an appointment with our contact, Dixon. I needed to discuss getting my gear shipped over. Can't exactly take a plasma caster through customs, after all.

He agreed to make sure it got to Halifax for me, not too much trouble. He also had a suggestion for getting me back in with the VE. Figures. Now he has the idea.

A complete medical profile, including implant and nanite signature, might be enough to convince the other VE of my identity.

Of course, the fact that Mac and I had just dramatically altered my implant's signature might be a problem.

I agreed to go ahead with the examination. My paranoia tried to convince me that Dixon was just setting me up for capture, but I eventually settled on the somewhat less paranoid theory that Dixon wanted to be sure for himself that I was who I claimed.

A wise precaution, I'd have done the same.

He completed the scan and copied me on the results, and said he'd pass them along via the Avalon Group. Hopefully I'll hear something soon.

Oh, Canada   

[Halifax, July 18-19]
We left Nice seperately, though Mac and I were on the same flight. Johnny and Derrick got pulled aside at the airport by Interpol, but apparently managed to clear things up. Derrick had some story ready about how they'd been camping in the Alps for several weeks. The evidence on the two was pretty fuzzy, and with a little bit of computer nudging from some of Avalon's sources, they were released.

Arden and Mark flew together as well, and reported no problems. Our flight was uneventful as well, and we reconvened in Halifax.

We scheduled a meeting with another Avalon contact, Charles Ditmer. He set us up with some credentials as an archaeological group out of the University of Oregon. As, Johnny actually has the experience in that field, we agreed to let him be the spokesman. Most of the rest were covering as students. I decided to dust off the engineering skills and put myself forward as a structural engineer, figuring that would be useful, and a good way to get in with Sterling.

The fact that I actually know what I'm talking about should help, even if most of my specialization is in the demolition side of things.

Anyhow, we made our way to Moose Head, just across the channel from Oak Island, and rented out a small house to base. I quickly rigged some defensive measures - a sensor perimeter, stashed weapons, and a small explosive if anyone turns on the AC, just enough to destory the house and anyone in it.

We spent the evening of the 18th getting settled in, and decided to get started snooping the next morning. Derrick and Mark reported that a number of enviornmentalists were running around town, bugging anyone who'd listen that the whole excavation on Oak Island was an ecological disaster. Told me I should probably stay clear - not sure why, I can deal with people being idiots, just look at what I've put up with so far.

We did see Sterling while out and about the town - surrounded by sycophants, not surprisingly. Some sort of mind-control effect, probably. He is reputed to be a master manipulator.

There was some sort of meet and greet that evening, which Mark, Johnny, and Mac decided to go to and try and have a word with Sterling. Arden, Derrick, and I went over to the island itself to look around. Kyle stayed behind to guard the house. Probably just took a nap, but at least he's putting up the appearance of caution.

Once there, we saw some of the excavations. I could see that they were desperately in need of some expert assistance - a number of the excavations had already collapsed under the pressure of the underground streams.

Arden sensed that the 'spirits are disturbed and chaotic'. I guess if there's an ancient nephandus underneath the island, they would be.