It is our greatest hope that the launching of this satellite will tie all of Sabatt together in glorious communications web that no storm, no earthquake, no tidal wave will sever. Our words, our voices will be heard.
-- Dafoe Dillainn, Vice President COAX Corp., in a speech at the launch of the COAX-Con communications satellite circa 4030 a.a.
The Legion of Freemen forces went underground. They left not even a whisper of their bivouac in the series of caves left behind at the Sea of Hope's withdrawal from the coastline of Sabatt. Meticulous handlers of makeshift brooms had swept away even the tracks of the Crusader tank so dearly won weeks ago. The explosion of a minor ammunitions dump by an unknown saboteur became the impetus behind the move to the new base deep in the old sewers of
New Rydynn. Ricohh Mikkaill Gideonn, Commanding General of the Freemen army, would not risk his men in the old camp. The Freemen advantage was always surprise and to have it turned on him, to be surprised by one man's ingenuity, put Gideonn on edge.
If the commander was edgy, so were the men. The old sewers, left behind as technology leapt forward smaller pipes of plastic and fuel-efficient pumps, became the stuff of popular legend. Long before nuclear winter ruined the surface of Sabatt, mothers told stories of bogey men, horribly mutated by toxic waste, who would rise from the grates and manholes to steal horrible children for their dinner. Spooks and specters, wights and witches with cast out
pet lizard familiars riding on their shoulders inhabited the grand arches of red and gray brick. The incessant dripping of water was known to drive sane sewer workers into incredible feats of depravity, and the bridges of slick rock slabs lead into a night no one was known to have returned from. The stories only grew as the ICBMs screamed their destructive music on the surface. Who knew what the Freemen would disturb down there.
The echoes of a full battalion of men skipped across damp brick. The oily smoke of gas lamps cast curving shadows against the rust-stained walls. A constant drip of water became at once a maddening and heartening sound. The only sound Gideonn wanted to hear as he paced the curtained confines of his private space was his radio man telling him Commander Lowinn had checked in his progress. That was six hours away and in that time, Gideonn had planned a
meeting.
***
It spun around the planet, a giant of silvery plastic curvature and links. Red and blue lights chased each other across the outer panels. It emitted a series of beeps toward the planet below. First in radar. Then in sonar. Then in microwaves. Then in radio waves. Then in a complicated digitized signal. Every sixth message series aimed at a series of bubble-buildings that once had been covered by fathoms of ocean.
====
He waited.
Mikkaill moved nary a limb. A cool breeze drifted across stone and through darkness to tease his hair, grown longer than it should be by over a year of neglect. The deep dark didn't oppress him, not as it would his other self, his Riccohh. A flicker of an almost superior smile tickled the corner of his mouth.
He trembled with anticipation, the first movement he'd made while waiting for the signal that someone had entered the old ruin. He was bursting with excitement - there was so much to discuss, to say, to connect ... But he had to wait until Riccohh came. He had to linger yet in this darkness which only he, of the two of them, could stand. The ruin was his prison, his choice, his way of saving his world. It was a place, Mikkaill believed, where magic used to be in force. All that was left now was a faint, old feeling to the place and the occasional dank wind that made one's skin prickle with gooseflesh. Magic was useless to him, but he liked knowing that he lingered where it used to be strong; that he ruled where it failed. That pleased him.
This was home and no one in all the world knew he was here; except his other self.
He waited.
====
He changed into the rags of a street punk and slunk down the night-kissed alleys alone. He darted across an open fields of concrete and skipped over the faint lines of paint left glowing in the lurid light of Axann. In the middle of one former parking lot, Ricohh paused to mark the paths of Axann's siblings. He felt a shout of relief building deep within him. Exposed and alone, anything
could happen and he reveled in this freedom. His defiant cry echoed off the broken walls that surrounded him and stirred a wild creature to baying. Mikkaill would hate this, he thought. Too exposed, too much risk, complete folly. Regret replaced the euphoria. His eyes itched. Mikkaill's way of telling him he dawdled and needed to move.
With a last look to Axann, full and orange above the cracked skyline, he left the baying hound and jogged the rest of the route. His destination was the ruin of a medical center. Once part of the New Rydynn Memorial Hospital medical consortium, the center housed offices for doctors specializing in the treatment of sports injuries. Ricohh shook his head, trying to clear that bit of information from his head. It didn't surprise him anymore when bits of
lore like that popped into his brain. He'd never studied the hospital's background, but Mikkaill had.
Mikkaill.
Mikkaill's presence permeated the ruins. Ricohh felt the tug, but held back. He circled the decimated building. He checked the surrounding husks as well. Mikkaill was well and alive inside and Ricohh planned to keep it that way. Old patterns of paranoia demanded it. The last remnants of his feeling of freedom were ripped away as he climbed through an opening in the rubble.
Darkness engulfed him first and left him breathless and wary. The rattling of pebbles dislodged by his entrance became an avalanche of sound to his ears. Instinct kicked in. His hand strayed to his weapon as he cautiously moved forward.
The dark pressed against him. He could feel it tickling the hairs at the nape of his neck. It whispered to him, speaking in the groans of strained steel and the clatter of dislodged plaster. The shadows filled his nostrils with the taint of mildew and rodent scat. Something broke beneath the sole of his boot, releasing the sickeningly sweet odor of death. Mikkaill's presence burned like a torch. He didn't need to see the path that would lead
to his twin. He wanted to see it.
A light would be nice. Excitement, need, terror mixed themselves into his mental voice - a stab at his brother with a weapon that held no edge.
You could have brought a torch, came the immediate response, followed by the low hum of a generator which kicked to life and the buzz of light bulbs as they popped on, one after another down the long corridors of the maze-like underground. Mikkaill did not even try to keep the excitement from his mental voice. I thought you would never get here.
"It took some doing to get away," Ricohh replied, taking cautious steps through the tunnel. His pace was agonizing to Mikkaill, long insulated by the deep bowls of the earth. Mikkaill began to run toward his brother.
I can understand, he sent as he ran ... how your faithful men... his steps carried him faster ...wouldn't want... and he didn't slow even at his brother's warning hiss ...to let you... till he had practically tackled Ricohh into a fierce embrace.
"... go!"
"Our faithful men," came Ricohh's grunted reply. A sliver of disgust at the idea of embracing wiggled its way through his consciousness. Only Mikkaill would be allowed to get away with something so intimate.
Well Mikkaill knew that, and was thankful for it. He wondered however about "their" men as he buried his face in his brother's shoulder. Being away from those said faithful men these past years, seeing them only rarely through Riccoh's eyes made Mikkaill care far less for them than for their leader -- His brother. Himself? The absurdity made him laugh.
"Ricohh. There's so much to show you!" Mikkaill's voice was hushed but intense, a precise duplicate of the one possessed by the other. He was finally ready to pull away, to break the embrace, but Riccoh, once committed, held tight to his brother and said nothing at all.
Vision of Hope -- A Cold Dark Place: 981119 12:49 PM by Ric & Mik
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