Post by jackalope on Dec 10, 2011 5:57:34 GMT -5
Ultimate S.H.A.D.E. #13
Dark Side of the Moon pt. 2
Dark Side of the Moon pt. 2
1902, Basse Normandy, France
Railway Turntable
The huge railway gun slowly shifts upwards, huge steam engines pumping large gears around, heavy metal grinding. A putting automobile pulls to the turntable, where a flurry of activity is taking place. General Immortus steps out from the vehicle and surveys the forest clearing. Men, in sailors’ uniforms, ferry supplies through chains up to the base of the huge cannon, which is being looked over by mechanics. In the midst of it all a small group of men stand around a large measuring instrument pointed at the stars. Lady Orlando climbs out of the car and stands behind the General, looking over him at the enormous structure.
The General looks back over his shoulder at her. “Orlando, be a dear and don't compare the size of the barrel to the size of its makers...”
“What,” she smiles, “...ego?”
“...Anything.” His eyes flash with amusement. She slaps the General's shoulder playfully. Immortus turns to his huge grey driver, “What do you think Marshall?”
“I will never understand the human desire to kill everything,” the creature replies scratching his white tattooed chin. His red eyes traced skywards. “Even the moon.”
A second car pulls up behind theirs. Vandal Savage gets out, followed shortly by Michel Arden, and finally Mademoiselle Thyme who refuses Michel's offer of help. The Frenchman brushes this off, instantly smiling when he spots the gun, which he starts to walk towards. The others follow, except for Marshall, who does not leave the car. As they approach the small team in charge spot them, one of the two assistants taps his superior, who stands hunched over an ancient looking brass telescope. As he turns and faces them, the bandages covering his arms and head startle the Frenchman, but only briefly.
General Immortus shakes his hand. “Professor Aten-Hut, you look well.”
“Is that so?” The cloth wrapped man adjusts his glasses, and peers through his bandages at each of them.
The General turns to the group. “You of course know Orlando, and Mademoiselle Thyme. This here is our pilot and adventure, Michel Arden, and I must introduce Mr Savage.”
“Ah yes, of course.” The Professor shakes the mighty man's hand. “You seem familiar somehow... Oh, and my colleagues, without which we would not be here today. May I introduce, Mr Impey Barbicane, builder of this great cannon you see before you (which is bigger than anything those Prussians are working on I assure you), and Dr. Cavor, discoverer of the gravity altering metal that will allow us not to be crushed by the sheer force of its power.” Both men nod in acknowledgement, hesitant to engage with the odd collection of characters.
“Will they be joining us?” the Frenchman asks with a keen vigour.
Aten-Hut shakes his head, “No, the craft only seats six. I'm sure they will both get a chance, at some stage.” At that moment a cadre of beautiful women in stylised sailor's uniforms walk over to the group, pretty smiles gracing their rouge lips. “Here are our hostesses; it looks like the ship is ready for launch.”
Smiling, Savage takes two of the hostesses’ arms and walks ahead to stairway. The others follow.
Mademoiselle Thyme touches the Professor's arm as he turns. “May I ask- where exactly are we heading for?”
He points to the full moon that sits bright and white in the daytime sky. “See that dark patch to the left.” Tilting his head his voice becomes whimsical, “A child might say we are going to hit the man in the moon right in his eye.”
***
Now
Lyta's thin fingers grasp the old man's hand. The room is quest save for the gentle breathing.
“Grandpop,” Lyta gently whispers. She gently moves his hand. “Grandpop.”
The old man stirs, his eyes flickering open and warily looking around the room. “Lyta?” His eyes look on the face of his granddaughter and he smiles, his free hand reaching for the glasses on the stand. His brow furrows. “Lyta, Lyta, your hair?”
Lyta leans forward, reassuring him. “No Grandpop, this is normal hair colour, I'm your granddaughter.”
His eyes water, lingering on her until suddenly he recognises her, with a flash of a grin. “Bonita, my sweet little Lyta Bonita. Have you been here long?”
She shakes her head. “No, not long.”
“What are you doing here?”
She lifts and kisses his hand. “I need an excuse to visit my pop?”
“No,” he says with caring eyes. “What have you been up to?”
She sighs, “You know, not much.” Half smiling she continues, “I just wanted to stop by before I left.”
“You are going somewhere?”
“Just for a trip, but I don't know when I'll be back,” she tries to not let anything strange show on her voice, “I don't know when I'll be able to visit next.”
He waves his hand. “It's not important. You're here now.” He touches her face. “And I know I love you.” Tears roll down her cheeks and she holds his hand tighter. “How are your mum and dad?”
“Fine, they're fine.” Out of the corner of her eye she sees Father Time standing in the doorway.
“Good,” he nods. Watching her eyes, he speaks, “You need to go.” She nods reluctantly. He laughs. “Cheer up Bonita, I'll see you again.” She stands up and leans over, kissing him on his cheek. “Where are you going anyway?”
She shrugs, “Nebraska.”
He nods again, his eyes closing sleepily and he lays his head back. She removes his glasses and places them on his bedside table. Pausing she watches his breathing, then turns and walks to the door.
“Thanks for doing this Father Time.”
“It's fine, besides he's a war hero.”
She walks past him, starting for the exit. “You knew my Grandpop?”
“Captain Steve Trevor? More than you know.” He follows her out. “These fates being weaved have a habit of becoming tangled.”
***
Somewhere in America
S.H.A.D.E. Base HQ
“Here.”
The word startles Dr Jules Brun awake and he sits up in a jerking motion. On his desk in front of him sits a thick bound file. 'The Effects of Diotheaside Providinene on the Process of D.N.A. Recombination Sequencing and Repair by Dr Niles Caulder.' He looks up at the kid standing on the other side of his desk, looking down at him with a condescending smirk. Jules rubs his eyes. “What is this?”
The kid pulls a joint out his pocket and a lighter from another. “I looked over the file on 'the Face'.” Lighting up he waved his free hand about. “You seemed a little stuck, understandable with a poison that attacks the DNA sequence itself. I remembered an old thesis I did that might help. Look it over.”
Jules blinks. “D'accord. But why are you helping me? What do you want?”
The kid blows out a cloud of smoke. “Father Time wants you back working on the team.” He turns his head towards the scientist. “I just want you to admit that I'm smarter than you.”
“Niles, we're leaving,” Robotman's voice in his earpiece instructs.
“Coming Robotguy.” Walking from the office, he calls back, “You can admit it when I get back.”
***
Russia, S.H.A.D.E. base
Launching bay
The plane skids onto the runway, making its way past the large rocket pointing upwards in the centre of the tarmac. Pulling to a stop, the black aircraft opens its hatch and a stair car drives up. Father Time steps out in to the dawn light. Umbrella in hand he makes his way down the steps as black truck pulls up. The Bride emerges behind him, followed by Lyta, Robotman, Niles, the Weird, Langstrom and Frankenstein. Out of the back of the truck a space suit wearing figure, visor down, steps out of the truck and moves aside. Three men, one in a red suit of futuristic armour, one in black, and in white, climb out and help down an old lady. The woman, quite plain looking and holding a carved wooden cane, looks upon Father Time with a neutral distain that only the elderly can manage. He returns the stare; those surrounding each of them carry the same look of unsureness.
Finally her lips crack in a grin and she steps forward, arms open. “Jarilo, it's been a while.”
Father Time meets her half way with a warm hug. “Baba, you have never looked so beautiful.”
She hits his arm. “Stop it, you old fool.” Stepping back she looks him over, “I like you with dark skin, very exotic. It suits you.” Her eyes flick to the pale blond Lyta. “<Who is this girl?>” she whispers in Russian.
He smiles. “<Now Baba, none of that. Besides I don't even think you could manage digesting her, she's a special one.> Is the ship ready?”
Baba nods. “It is modified with the Theta engines specifications that you sent. We have finished the space suits required, five ready, save for the Robotman and this Weird one.” Black suited S.H.A.D.E. agents start to carry down suits from the truck, helping Time's team into them.
“Five?” The Indian man looks at her. “I will need a suit.”
She frowns. “<Jarilo, the shuttle only seats eight. There is no need for you to go up there.>”
“<I'm going up there.>” He turns to Langstrom. “Kirk, you're staying behind.” Langstrom looks at him with disbelief. “You will stay here and overlook the mission from this end.” Time turns to the agents. “<Suit me up.>”
***
When they are ready the truck transports them to the shuttle docking platform. Stepping on it the platform starts to rise. Time turns to the team.
“It's probably time I introduced our pilot,” he points to the mysterious Russian agent in the space suit. “We are lucky enough to be joined by the first 'official' cosmonaut from earth.” Lyta turns to Niles and raises her eyebrows, he smiles back. The cosmonaut raises the visor on its suit. “This is Laika.”
A dog's head looks out from the visor at each of the team. “Pleased to meet you all.”
An awkward silence is only broken by Frankenstein. “Welcome to the team,” he says shaking her hand. “We are grateful for your expertise.”
“Yes absolutely,” agrees Robotman. Bride and Lyta nod.
“Thank you all,” Laika says happily, “I'm sure our mission will be a success.” The platform stops at the entrance point to the Shuttle. “We are here, please follow.”
Laika and the team file through save for Niles, who is distracted by an orange light streaking through the sky. The light flickers through and suddenly stops in front of him, hovering. He squints at the orange gem. “What the fu...”
A voice seems to speak directly in his head. <Niles Caulder of Earth, you want it a...>
“Niles are you coming?” Lyta's voice distracts him, causing the orange light to falter.
<Niles Caulder of Earth, you want... emotion spectral conflict... rescanning.>
“Niles!”
“Uh...” Niles looks at the hovering object in front of him, then back at the shuttle. He frowns. “Coming.” He turns and walks into the shuttle.
<Inconclusive.> The orange light zips off.
***
1902, Three miles from Lunar Surface
Bullet Craft
The cratered lunar surface approaches through the front viewing window. Michel Arden turns to the bandaged professor. “I hope this works.” He pulls a brass lever. The clanking sound of an engine starts in the background as the steam powered gravitational repellers start up. The ship slows and Michel hits another lever and two harpoons fires down at the moon's ground. The engine starts to crank the craft slowly towards it. “Haha, magnifique! It works. Truly Professor, you are a genius!”
Aten-Hut shrugs. “I know.”
Mademoiselle Thyme's hands grip tightly around her expensive white patterned umbrella. She looks out the port hole on her side, then leans over to Lady Orlando. “I cannot believe we decide to go to the moon on the year I am a woman.”
The dark haired Orlando shakes her head, “Me either. I hate being so frail. And the way that brute Savage looks at me, yurhhk, it gives me the creeps. I'm pretty sure I fought against him in Troy.”
Thyme nods. “I've run into a few times, but luckily he never recognises me. I think I stabbed him during the Crusades.”
Orlando looks up at the front, where the pilot sits by the professor. “Michel seems nice though, are you...?”
“He is nice,” says fair Thyme shugging, “I figure I should at least try it once. As they say, 'when in Rome.'”
“Oh gods, don't let me start on Rome.” Orlando giggles, “Ah, Rome, how did you ever fall?” Mademoiselle Thyme snorts in laughter.
“Brilliant!” The shout from Aten-Hut from the front of the ship gets everyone’s attention. Looking up from his telescope, he turns. “Just as I suspected, the moon is inhabited!”
“Really?” says Savage. General Immortus leans to his porthole window.
“Impossible,” Michel adds. “Where is zese inhabitants? I cannot see them?”
“Within the crater there.” The Professor points to a dark area ahead. “Surrounding the crater is some sort of plants, fungi I'm guessing. The hole itself is perfectly circular, carved. I'm positive that within the tunnels we will find a life form.” Michel narrows his eyes. Aten-Hut continues, “throughout history people claimed to have visited the moon, in dreams and visions, Duracotus, Lucian, Münchhausen, and they all claimed that it was inhabited. I always considered astral projection as the likely scenario.”
Michel shakes his head in disbelief.
Orlando whispers to Thyme, “You know a knight named Astolfo, once claimed that he flew to the moon for me...”
General Immortus looks to Savage. “Anyone think to bring a flag?”
Vandal Savage grins. “I like the way you think.”
Michel turns a switch and the craft starts to turn, so that the base of the ship is now moving to the ground. “You are sure the ship will have to problem returning to Earth?” He says as the ship touches down lightly on the ground.
“Trust me,” Aten-Hut says unbuckling himself from his seat. “My engines are the most advanced ever designed, they do not fail. Now if everyone will follow me to the bottom of the ship I have suits for each of you.” He starts to climb down the metal bars on the side of the ship downwards.
***
Now, Three miles from Lunar Surface
S.H.A.D.E. Shuttle
“I can't see anything,” Bride looks through the shuttle window. “It just looks like the moon.”
Father Time shakes his head. “It's there, trust me.” Laika calmly keeps course, firing the retro-thrusters, reducing the approaching speed.
Niles opens a number of screens, “Scanning the lunar surface, UV, heat, spectral, ethereal...” His fingers flick across holo-keyboard that flickers in front of him. “Here we go, some sort of old school holographic imaging, with a low-level dampening field, literally smoke and mirrors. What is this guy, the steampunk king? Interrupting fields n...OHSHIT!”
The moon crater ahead of them fell away to reveal a battery of thirty cannons, each sticking out of some sort of industrial looking fortification, extending out and into the crater. Within seconds the cannons fire, sending volleys of rapidly expanding bullets. Laika curses, rapidly moving the controls, dodging the incoming missiles. A fearsome crunching sound, followed by flickering red lights and a siren. The ship is hit, sending it into a spin. The shuttle and its screaming passengers, plummet towards the moon.