Post by jackalope on Jan 14, 2012 23:25:35 GMT -5
Ultimate S.H.A.D.E. #14
Dark Side of the Moon pt. 3
Dark Side of the Moon pt. 3
Lyta opens her eyes. The roof flashes red, then white, then red. She closes her eyes.
The sound of sirens becomes noticeable. It has been there all along, but she only just realises it is there.
She tries her eyes again. Red. White. Red. Shut, black.
Pain across her chest. She touches her front and feels the belts holding her, in her spacesuit to the chair. The chair that is hanging upside down. Eyes open. Red. White. Red. White. Red. Out of the corner of her eye she sees something. A white furry shape. It's looking at her. It's too far in her peripherals for her to see it properly but it leans in close. “You're late...”
Lyta falls unconscious.
***
1902, Moon
Bounding slowly across the lunar surface, Mademoiselle Thyme holds her umbrella in the thick glove of her brass diving-like suit. She looks to the men, who are setting up a winch beside the crater.
“Can you hear me?”
The men turn to her. Aten-Hut looks back to the winch and keeps working. “You needn't worry about communication, the suits I designed have speaking pieces in them. Sound is carried through the air tubes to the machine which contains the compressed air, and is heightened and sent back to each of us.” She looks to the large chugging machine that sits behind them, which would probably take many to lift on Earth; here Mr Savage seems to be able to lift it on his own. Earth. She turns to see it, giant, and glowing, filling the sky. Gaia, little sister, she thinks, you looks so beautiful.
“Ha ha,” Michel's voice laughter echoes through the speaking devices. “C'est incroyable! Your mind, et is phénoménal! How does the world not know of your brilliance Monseur Aten-Hut? Surely there should be statues of you in every university, non?”
Finishing the winch mechanics he stands back up. “Oh there are statues of me, but most are destroyed now.”
“Je suis desolee, I did not mean to offend,” the Frenchman holds his hands out apologetically, “I forget, your accident that left you with the injury of which you cover with your bandages. I did not think.”
The General steps forward, allowing himself to be harnessed by Aten-Hut. Aten-Hut shakes his head. “You misunderstand. The statues of myself were destroyed mostly by tomb robbers. The greatest inventor in all of Egypt... Inventor of the battery, the first glider. They came to me to check the pyramids wouldn't fall down.” Michel tilts his head, trying to understand whether this is some sort of English humour that he cannot seem to grasp. Immortus gives a thumbs up and he is lowered down the crater. Aten-Hut continues. “When it came for me to be mummified I told them to take out my heart first and replace it with a steam powered one I devised myself. My work was too important for me to just die.”
Michel steps back, to be met by Mademoiselle Thyme at his side. He looks through the port-hole of his helmet at her, confusion and growing fear in his eyes. She takes his hand, and smiles reassuringly. He lifts his eyebrows, conveying the question, 'you knew'? She nods.
Vandal's huge hand slaps his back. “Come now Mr Arden. Because of your fine piloting we are on the moon! Don't concern yourself with such matters as to how many hundreds and thousands of years your companions are. Enjoy yourself. Now you're next Arden.” He pushed the pilot forward to Aten-Hut, who was ready with the harness. “Down the Rabbit-hole.”
***
Now, Moon
“Are you alright?”
Lyta opens her eyes to see Father Time and a Dog, both in large black space suits, leaning over her. She sits up and tries to touch her aching head, but is stopped by her visor. “Where..? I saw...” Father Time holds her back up. “What's going on?”
“We are under attack. Frankenstein the Weird, and Bride are handling it. Robotman and Niles are trying to get the ship repaired, but for now we are grounded on the moon.” He helps her to her feet. “And we have a job to do.”
Lyta looks out the shuttle's window to the huge brass and iron tower that stands, covered in cannons, and out of which mechanical walkers crawl. Laika, the Cosmonaut dog, holds out a ray gun and moves to the hatch, Father Time and Lyta following. The section of the ship seals off and the hatch opens. A swarm of marching walkers approaches.
Outside the hulking Frankenstein leaps, his sword drawn. He flies high and drops down onto one of the large walkers, slashing through the laser weapon that sticks out of it, then drives the sword down, directly through the machine's cockpit. The machine collapses downwards, falling to the ground with a crunch. Bride skilfully crawls up the leg of another, swinging around and placing an explosive on the base. She drops and runs, letting the machine blow behind her. The Weird floats through others, dragging little green, bug-like aliens from their control-pits and letting them explode into dust.
Laika kneels, taking aim at one of the striders, and fires her weapon, causing another flaming explosion. She turns her canine head to Time. “Why can we hear that?”
“Artificial atmosphere,” Niles' voice cuts in. Behind them the boy and Robotman appear from behind the shuttle. “A gravity bubble is keeping a thin oxygen atmosphere stable in the area. Somehow he's used this gravitational energy to bend the light around this area, effectively making it invisible for the last hundred years. It'd be so fucking elegant, if it wasn't so retarded.” He looks at Lyta. “You alright?”
Lyta isn't sure whether them whole team heard this, or just her. She nods. Robotman looks from Lyta, to Niles and shakes his head slightly. “The shuttle should be fit to leave when we are but it can't take too much more damage. We can set up an energy shield for it, but it will only last an hour- we need to get this done quick.”
Father Time nods. “Alright, two teams. Bride, Robotman, Weird and Laika, take out the cannons and stop these walkers at the source. Frankenstein, Lyta, Niles, you're with me. We've got someone to visit.”
The groups split; Bride's team giving covering fire for Father Time's to make it inside the giant moon tower. Father waits by the door while the others file through. Lyta stops beside him. She presses the communication button on her suit so she is speaking only to him.
“Father Time?”
“What is it Lyta?”
“Before, I think I saw a white rabbit... I might have been dreaming, but it felt real.”
He smiles at her, as they follow Frankenstein through the strange corridors. “Lunar rabbits? Ha, don't worry about it. We brought rabbits with us for supplies, it's a colonial thing. They must still be breeding up here.” He shakes his head, then points his umbrella forward. “Eyes open everyone.”
***
1902, Moon
“Eyes open everyone.” Mademoiselle Thyme lowers her umbrella. The fungus that grows around the walls and floor seems to give an eerie glow, which lights the area with a hazy purple.
Savage finishes winching down the air machine and turns to the rest of them. Lady Orlando gazes over the strangely carved walls, lightly brushing her gloved hand across the drawings of some bizarre alien dialect. “Look at this, whoever lives here has language.”
A skittering sound alerts them to something down the corridors. Both Vandal and Immortus draw swords, the huge Savage smiling. Aten-Hut holds up his hands. “I'm sure there is no need for such violence yet.” He steps towards the noise. The scraping sounds grows, and in the dim light two sets of glistening eyes emerge, hovering slightly in the distance. They gaze silently at the unblinking eyes, except for the puffing of the breathing machine behind them. Finally Arden steps forward. The creatures step back, and he stops in response, holding his arms up in what he hopes is a universal sign of non violence.
“Indigène of Selene,” the Frenchman says calmly, “we mean you no harm.”
A clicking from the creatures, but no movement.
“Comment donc! They cannot hear me!” Arden reaches to the front of his helmet and pulls a small lever. The group shouts at him, punctuated by Mademoiselle Thyme.
“Michel, don't!”
The Mummified Professor races back to the breathing machine, turning levers suddenly, cutting off the connection from the rest of the group. The Frenchman stands for a moment, the front window of his helmet open. Silence lingers amongst the explorers, waiting for the fatal effects of the lack of atmosphere to destroy the pilot. Michel coughs, then drags in a lungful of air. He turns to the rest of them. “The air is thin here but I can breath.” He reaches up and undoes the many small levers that hold on the huge brass helmet. Flashing a daring smile at Thyme, he says, “Oui, that is better.”
Behind him, the two creatures slowly crawl towards the group, stopping only feet from the Frenchman. His eyes drags his head around until he can examine them clearly. About three feet tall, with a greenish tinge to the outer carapace that made up their bodies, the large compound eyes of the creatures seemed to be examining the human's with a similar curiosity.
“Hey loow, Bonjour, Nee How. Do you speak?” Michel, leaning closer to them, asks.
“Don't be ridiculous, Arden,” Professor Aten-Hut scolds, approaching the creatures. Standing beside him, he pulls out a magnifying glass. “They have no vocal chords, or even tongues. The assumption that they can communicate in a way the we might underst...”
A clicking sound interrupts them. The creature’s clawed limbs click as they shift their heads, looking to each other, then the group. The tapping of the claws is intermittent, one doing so, then the other replying in time.
“Like Morse code.” Michel scratches his head.
“What are they saying?” Lady Orlando whispers.
“We have to assume they are asking the same about us,” Immortus concludes.
The creatures keep clicking, their bug like heads flicking around, until they stop. Turning around, they move back down the tunnels, walking on four limbs whilst their two clawed arms tucked up by their sides. Arden looks back at his fellow explorers. “Are you coming?” His eyes catch Mademoiselle Thyme's and he arches an eyebrow, then turns and follows them.
The group pauses, trying to gauge one another’s thoughts. Suddenly Thyme removes her helmet, placing it on the ground, and runs after Arden, calling for him. Aten-Hut follows suit, muttering something about 'alien concepts.' Savage turns to Immortus, removing his own helmet, and flaring his nostrils whilst dragging in the moon air. “Coming old man?” Immortus shakes his head and, removing his helmet, follows. Lady Orlando looks at the machine that pumps the air, rumbling away, then back up at the tunnel through which the old General disappears within.
Tapping her foot, she suddenly snaps, kicking the wall. “Bothersome-fuck.” She takes her helmet off and places it with the rest of them. “When I am a man again, I'm going to beat the shit out of all of these bastards.” She runs after the group.
***
Now
Bride races across the lunar landscape as invisible heat rays slice into the rock around her. Laika fires at the walker nearest her, knocking out one of its legs. Bride skids underneath it, before it drops, and rolls back into her running gait. With two pistols outstretched, she shoots at the two which lumber towards her. One starts to hiss, as a round penetrates its main engine. It wobbles on the spot, its driver unsure of how to react. The other, near it, tries to retreat, but the explosion rips both of them apart. As the shrapnel flies out, Bride jumps, turning her body in the air to avoid the metal. The momentum of her speed, in the low gravity, sends her much higher than she intended.
“Oh crap.” As she floats, she can see the battlefield drift under her. A whole swarm of walkers seem to be flooding out of the factory. She looks up at space, vast and unending above her. She gulps.
Suddenly something grabs her leg. Looking down she sees the extended hand of Robotman, dragging her back to the ground. “Thought you looked like you needed a hand.”
“Thanks Rob,” she says. She reloaded her pistols and looked out at the massing enemies. At least seventy of were slowly approaching, the steam from their engines was pooling at the top of the dome bubble making it more noticeable. She looked at her guns. “Sometimes it feels like two hands are not enough...”
Laika runs to Bride and Robotman, her tongue hanging out of her panting mouth. “What is the plan?”
Bride looks to Robotman, who scratches his metal head. “Well if we can get into the main loading area of those cannons, where all the Selenite machines are coming from then I should have enough explosives to stop it at the source.” His eyes zoom in and across the lines of machines. Analyzing the numbers and speed, he shrugs. “But that means getting past them.”
Laika whimpers. Bride looks around. “Where's Weird?”
The radio cracks in. “Ground Control to Major Tom.”
“Weird?” Lyta asks, “Is that you?”
“Ground Control to Major Tom,
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on...”
The Weird emerges from the ground, phasing through the lunar rock, wearing his bright orange and purple suit, but with the addition of a pair of large circular sunglasses. Appearing only a dozen feet from the aliens, they suddenly stop, unsure how to handle the singing phantom.
“...Check ignition and may God's love be with you...”
One of the walkers hazards a step forward, a mechanical leg lifting high and crashing down to crush the strange figure. The Weird's head turns to him suddenly. He disappears, only to appear at the other side of the walker holding the alien driver. With a squeeze the Selenite disperses into dust. The walkers all turn to the floating Weird and point their heat rays. He dodges, flying around quickly and disappearing into the thick of it.
Bride laughs at the scene. “Well that's that covered... but where did he get the glasses.”
Laika's canine face seems to smile. “I love the David Bowie.”
As the steam walkers battle and crash against one another, Bride, Robotman, and Laika run towards the factory. Across the S.H.A.D.E. radio frequency singing is heard:
"This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I'm stepping through the door,
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way,
And the stars look very different today!”
***
1902, Inside the Moon.
“We must attempt to learn all that we can of these aliens and the way that they can survive in such an environment.” Aten-Hut announces. “I believe that it is this fungus that surrounds us that provides the oxygen which allows us to breathe.”
“How utterly compelling,” Savage utters, rolling his eyes.
The creatures continue to lead them downwards, chittering slightly to one another. The walls become more ornate, straight geometric lines inlaid into the pale moon rock, the fungi also, becomes larger, toadstool-like structures lining the edges above and below.
Michel Arden struts, his eyes wide with wonder at the strange sites. Thyme, her elbow hooked in his, looks at him with admiration. The braveness of mortals never fails to amaze her. “What are you thinking?” As soon as the words fall from her mouth she bites her lip. Nine months as a woman, an occurrence that happens only once every hundred or so years, and already she was asking questions that only a woman ever would.
Arden smiles, smiling handsomely under his mop of black hair. “<I was thinking of how strange it was that five months ago we met, now I stand on the moon itself!>” Mademoiselle Thyme smiles, turning her to hide her red cheeks, embarrassed by her own behaviour.
“Look at her,” Orlando whispers to Immortus.
“Hmm?” The old General looks from Thyme, to the pale, dark-haired Orlando. “Jealous?”
Orlando shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Mortals are good for a lay, but as lovers they don't last long.” Immortus narrows his eyes. Orlando continues, “Besides, next year she probably won't be a woman.”
Immortus sighs. “Perhaps she doesn't expect him to stay mortal; she did bring him here after-all.”
Savage stops and turns, his huge figure looming over them. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing old boy,” Immortus says, walking past him.
“Here...” Savage continues, “You said she brought him here? For what reason?”
Orlando shakes her head, “Forget about it Vandal. It's nothing important, just a legend.”
“What legend?” Savage asks, following the group further down. The tunnel narrows down in size, dipping down, and then coming back up, opening in to a vast internal landscape. He shouts, “What Legend?!” The question echoes out.
The group is speechless. Strange geometric buildings jut out of the ground, a huge underground city. Ornately carved walls covered in patterns, crescent shapes hang over archways. Layered gardens of luminous fungi, of many different colours, hang around like rice farms. The entire city seems uninhabited.
Professor Aten-Hut releases a breath. “An entire civilization on the moon. It's like Egypt, how it used to me.”
“What legend Immortus? Why are we really here?” Savage glares at them.
Immortus raises his eyebrow. “Lunar Rabbits. Chinese legend said that on the moon there is a hare that grinds the herbs for the elixir of life.”
Savage grins, wide and wild. “Instead we get bugs!” He turns and kicks one of the bugs, the creature just combusts in a cloud of dust. The other Selenite scrambles off, clicking its hands sporadically.
“In the name of Set! What are you doing?!” Aten-Hut shouts at Savage, waving his arms.
“Just learning all that we can of these aliens and the way that they can survive in such an environment,” Savage replies.
A buzzing sound starts in the background. Out of windows and doorways, over the top of building ledges, larger green creatures look out at them, crawling out, their wings flicking behind them.
Clicking starts.