One more thing: The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of RoadKiehl. I hope you don't think I'm a sick, twisted serial killer after reading this
The General stood on the bridge of his flagship, looking out into the murky depths. He could only see a few meters in front of the nose of the submarine; everything else was a mystery to him. In fact, he could be heading straight into the rocks if his orders had steered him wrong. That was fine by him, though. As a rule, he lived his life in the moment. Anything else was irrelevant.
A young man approached from behind, his face illuminated with the blue glow of the shipboard lights.
“What news from the queen, officer?” the General inquired.
“A counterattack has been launched from El-Farolito. One submarine, carrying 40 drillers and an assassin,” came the reply.
“Tell the queen that I strongly recommend we send the Intelligence Officer to Ran to repel the invaders. I will give him orders upon arrival.”
“But sir, the assassin –“
“Did I ask for your opinion, soldier?”
“No, sir.”
“Then get back to your post. I want that message sent back to the queen immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
The General turned back to the viewport with a sigh. The young Navigator was brilliant at his craft, but he still had much to learn of war. The Intelligence Officer was sure to die, yes. But, with the General’s instructions, his sacrifice would surely be enough to hold the key border outpost. There was no use dwelling on such things, and eventually the Navigator would learn to block these things out. The General had high hopes for the young man’s future, and fully expected him to achieve the rank of Admiral before long. In the meantime, however, his lack of determination was an impediment to his career. Once a decision was made, an officer did not question that decision, but saw it through to its conclusion, regardless of the cost.
The submarine continued to hurtle through the icy blackness. Nothing would stop its progress.
They were destined for Tangaroa, a mine near the border of their great empire. It had been a surprise attack, intended to take their former ally off guard. Indeed, the mine was virtually undefended. Why they had decided to attack their ally, however, was beyond the General. He didn’t like to ask questions. It wasn’t his place.
“Status report,” the General said. His voice echoed in the otherwise silent bridge, and he smiled a little to himself, pleased at the authority in his voice.
“Arrival in 2.6 hours, sir. An enemy submarine just appeared on our sonar, headed towards Tangaroa. 15 drillers only, sir,” was the dutiful response.
Yes, he loved this. War was naught but a game of chess, and he was the brave knight. And since the world had begun to use drillers for combat, war was no longer “morally reprehensible,” as some weak-minded politicians had once shouted. The leash of morality had finally been removed, and he was free to pursue his passion without argument.
Dark shapes began to materialize out of the darkness. These were only rock formations, but their arrival showed that the submarine was beginning to descend towards the ocean floor.
“I’m not a violent person,” the Assassin would always tell herself. “I’ve just found a career path that I enjoy. There’s so much room to grow as an artist in this field. And the thrill of it…”
She had tried more “civilized” jobs in the past. Nothing had sated her. Every day was a dreary grind; the world was colorless and tasteless. Then came her first contract.
If she was asked, she always said that her life had begun that day. Colors sharpened. The air she breathed was stimulating and refreshing. She was able to experience every moment to its fullest. It was like nothing she had ever done before.
The long hours in between the action were dry and boring, but such is the nature of the job. Besides, it was the anticipation that really did it for her, not the kill itself. She spent most of her time on submarines these days, waiting for her life to begin again, with the short bursts of the life coming at the end of each journey. The trips were difficult to bear, yes, but she spent much of her time training and caring for her weapons to keep her mind, body, and blades sharp.
Now was not one of those times. The submarine was arriving, and life was beginning.
40 drillers stormed the docks. The machines were terrifying in their efficiency, their brutality. The smaller defending force slammed into the invaders with a deafening clamor of steel-on-steel.
The Assassin stepped quietly off of the submarine and surveyed the battlefield. The drillers were none of her concern, however. She carefully searched the chaos and –
There. Standing, up above the clamor, was a man in a smart uniform. He carried a small weapon aimed down into the brawl, taking out drillers one at a time.
The Assassin smirked. He looked so out of sorts up there. He held his weapon as if it was something that might bite him. She doubted he had ever even seen combat before. And what was with that silly top hat? Did he think he was attending a ball of some sort?
Her orders confirmed her suspicions that this man was no warrior. An intelligence officer, her superiors had told her. Odd that he would be found here.
She sighed a little bit to herself. This wouldn’t be nearly as fun as she had hoped it would be. There was no sport in it, no struggle for victory.
“Oh well,” she thought. “It’s still a job.” And with that, she left the docks and, despite the disappointment, felt the thrill rising within her.
The Intelligence Officer cursed under his breath, then, for the heck of it, cursed for all to hear. This was not what he had signed up for. That blasted general and his orders. What did it matter if this outpost was lost? It was only a generator for crying out loud!
His weapon jammed. He cursed again, then struggled with the trigger. How did this infernal contraption even work?
This wasn’t a part of the job description. He had been hired for his brains, not for his skill with a pistol. Why had that hag of a queen listened to a fool like the General? He had been doing his job quietly and effectively for as long as he could remember. They had no right to treat him like a common soldier.
He finally got his weapon to work again, then fired it down into the mayhem without aiming. The bullet, to his surprise, hit an enemy driller and disabled it.
“The empire is in danger,” the queen had said. “It’s for the greater good,” the queen had said. “Every man must do his part,” the queen had said. The Intelligence Officer cursed again. If he survived this, they would be getting a formal complaint from him at the earliest opportunity.
He fired down into the crowd again, hitting another enemy. He paused and looked down. He wasn’t quite sure, but it looked like the tide of the battle was turning. Maybe, just maybe, that blasted general was right to send him here. Hope rose within him. Maybe he could be a hero, saving the empire from –
The body thumped onto the metal platform. The Assassin pulled her knife from the poor sap’s back and cleaned the his blood from the blade. “Too easy,” she chuckled. The top hat skittered away and landed, open end up, on the far side of the platform. She strutted over and picked the hat up. Laughing to herself, she placed it jauntily on her head and looked at her reflection in the now gleaming metal of her blade. She frowned and adjusted the angle of the hat. There, she thought, then began to look at her knife more carefully.
It had been used time and time again, but she made sure to keep it in good condition. She loved this weapon like a child. There were more modern ways of assassinating targets, yes. A good rifle could eliminate anyone from a distance, and poison was always an option. But neither of those methods had ever really appealed to her. They were just too boring, and there was nothing like the feeling of a knife in her hand.
She moved over the the railing, sat down, and surveyed the melee from her new perch. All those machines looked far less formidable from up here. They were like little toys, playing at war. One would fall, then another. Despite the chaos, the battle was really quite easy to predict. For every driller lost on one side, a second would be destroyed on the other side. Now if only she could count the drillers. But no, it was too messy down there.
She smiled and leaned back, using the slowly cooling corpse behind her as a pillow. It was a good day.
“Arrival in 20 minutes, sir. Shall I ready the drillers for assault?”
“Do it. And call up the tactical map.”
“Yes, sir.” The General smiled again. That answer never got old.
The Navigator suddenly looked down at his control panel again. “Sir, a report is in from home.”
“And?”
“Sir, we are ordered to change course and head back the way we –“
“What!”
“Those are the exact words, sir. The transmission goes on to explain that –“
The General dismissed the rest with a wave of his hand. “Change course,” he spat. He didn’t need to know the reasons. All he knew was that he had been mere moments away from the one thing he desired most in the world. He felt like a starving man who had had a plate of food taken away from in front of him. He could almost smell the sweet odor of battle, and had been turned away.
A deep breath in, and a long breath out. Another day, it would come. It was not his place to question authority. He turned and looked out of the rear viewport. The vast mine which was now behind his ship sank back into the darkness. The General was sure that a peace accord had been reached. He winced at the thought, then turned and went back down into his quarters.
The Navigator was not a brave man. He knew this. He accepted this. He just didn’t see any difference between “bravery” and “stupidity.” Why charge into a battle you know you can’t survive? What point is there in assaulting a heavily fortified outpost? Why push against an immovable object?
The General just refused to see reason. Nothing is set in stone, and fate is in the hands of mankind. This “seeing it through to the end” mantra of his would end up costing lives. It already had, in fact. Reports were just coming in on the battle at Ran. A narrow victory, which was a good thing. But in the aftermath of the battle, workers had found the body of the intelligence officer on the viewing platform of the docks, and an assassin napping with her head on the body. The Navigator shuddered at the thought. War brought out the worst of humanity. The assassin had been taken into custody and the intelligence officer had been given an honorable funeral. I’m sure he’d rather be alive than have the honor, though, the Navigator thought.
At least his ship had avoided disaster. The orders had been a godsend. The General, unsurprisingly, had spent the hours since locked in his quarters. Passers-by had apparently heard him cursing through the door. What a disgusting man. He lusts for war, and that passion will get us all killed.
The Navigator turned back to the viewport. He hadn’t wanted to go to war. His real love was exploration. There were so many mysteries in the deep, just waiting to be discovered. Nobody really knew what lay beyond the darkness. There could be wonders out there, things that would have to be seen to be believed. Why did the rulers of every faction feel the need to squabble over things as commonplace as mines?
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much money in exploration these days. Everything was focused on war, all the time. And so, the young man had signed on as a military navigator. The way he saw it, this would be a way to travel the world and get paid at the same time. It was only later that he found he had no stomach for war.
The Navigator sighed and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes, then looked back down at his control panel. There wasn’t much to do now that he had set the ship’s bearings toward Ran. The General had assumed that the retreat had been due to a peace accord, as per usual. However, the orders made clear that reinforcements were needed at Ran after the battle. If that man would just listen…
The Navigator set the ship to autopilot, then rose and went back to his quarters for some much needed rest. It had been a long day.
“Well,” the assassin said, “at least it’s a fairly nice cell.”
That was sarcasm, of course. The cell was dimly lit, musty, and there was a large puddle in the corner. The wooden platform on her right, or “bed,” as her captors called it, smelled faintly of rot, and there was a steady dripping sound coming from the puddle.
She sighed and spread out on the platform, trying to ignore the platform’s loud, creaking protest. It had been fairly stupid of her to get caught, but in her defense, she hadn’t actually meant to fall asleep in the battle. It had just kind of happened. Things had gotten pretty boring after her job was done, after all.
The guards hadn’t been too happy with her, of course. They hadn’t been very gentle when ushering her to her cell, and had taken her knife from her. They had even taken her new hat from her, muttering something about “respect for the dead.” How rude of them. Apparently these people had never heard of common courtesy.
One guard still sat outside of her cell, gazing blankly at the wall. Poor guy, his life must be so boring. What’s the point of carrying a weapon if you can’t use it, anyways?
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It was so quiet in here, and really quite peaceful. She could get used to this.
Drip, drip, drip
Her eyes flashed open and she glanced over at the puddle, then sighed and closed her eyes again.
Drip, drip
This is going to get annoying, real fast, she thought. She sat up in her bed and looked up at the ceiling. The leak was coming from an exposed pipe up there. If only she had tools.
“Hey,” she said to the guard outside. He didn’t even glance up.
“Hey you,” she tried again. This earned a scowl, but nothing more.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” she commented absently. “Anyways, you think I could get a wrench or something in here? This pipe is driving me crazy.”
The guard grunted and went back to staring at the wall.
“Hey, I’m talking to you buddy. A wrench, if you please. On the double.” She said the last two sentences with a queenly air and a flourish of her hand.
No response.
Hopeless, she thought, then turned back to the pipe. She tried covering it with her hand, but that only succeeded in getting her arm wet. Frowning, she looked around the room for something she could use to tie around the leak.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the door of the prison opening. She turned around to see two more guards entering, with a wispy man leading them. What an odd little guard, she thought to herself. Perhaps he uses a toothpick as a spear? She smiled to herself. Yes, I think that’s what I’ll call you. I hereby dub thee, ‘Toothpick,’she thought, then went to the bars of her cell to greet the newcomers.
“Finally,” she said. “Would one of you be a dear and fetch me a wrench? I’ve tried asking this fellow, but he must be deaf, or mute, or dumb, because I’ve gotten nothing from –“
“Hush now,” Toothpick said. He had a soft, yet rasping voice with a very grandfatherly tone to it. He didn’t look her in the eye as he said this, but rather looked off into the corner absently.
“I’ll hush when I get a wrench, thank you very much. This leak is a real problem. Don’t you people have custodians?”
“Hush,” Toothpick said again. To the guards, he said, “Unlock the door and leave us.” The guards promptly obeyed, rushing out as if chased. Odd, the Assassin thought. He doesn’t look that scary to me.
Toothpick walked into the cell and sat down on a fine red upholstered chair in the middle of the room. Did one of the guards bring that in while I wasn’t looking? she wondered.
“So what comes first? Thumbscrews? Waterboarding? Bring it on, old man.”
“I am not going to torture you,” Toothpick said softly. “I find that people respond better to kindness than they do to brutality.”
“Listen, all I want is some peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask?”
The man ignored her, and continued on. “Now then, you are charged with the murder of a high-ranking officer in the queen’s navy –“
“Officer?” she scoffed. “That man had never seen a gun in his life.”
“- a high ranking officer in the queen’s navy who was only trying to defend his country,” Toothpick continued. “The queen is understandably very upset with you. The penalty for murder is death, young lady.” He said all this as if speaking to a child who had stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. And still, he did not look the Assassin in the eye, but rather gazed absently to the side.
The Assassin laughed at this. Execution was always possible for someone in her line of work.
“I have, however, prevailed upon her majesty to allow you this one last chance. In exchange for your freedom, you will do exactly as I say from now on.”
“Oh, is that what you call freedom in this country, hm?”
“Now, you are being offered the chance of a lifetime. If you turn me down, I’ll have to leave you to the hangman.”
“I’ll take the noose, thanks,” was her curt reply.
At this, the man’s eyes locked with hers. His eyes were like nothing she had ever seen before. The pupils were pure white, and they had an intensity that held her gaze.
“Unfortunately, I must insist you listen to me,” he said.
“I…” She had a response planned out before, right? The words seemed to leak from her mind like water.
The dripping seemed louder now. Her mind latched on the sound, the only thing that felt right any more.
As if reading her mind, the man stood up, still holding her eyes with his, and stepped over to the puddle. “Come,” he said.
It seemed natural to her to stand up and walk over to the water. Drip, drip, drip…
“Now, I want you to look down into the water and tell me what you see.” At this, he looked down, releasing her gaze.
She looked down into the water. “I see… I see my reflection.”
“Yes, very good. You know, I think that reflections are among the most profound things in the world. When I look down into the water, I see myself as I really am. My body, my mind, and my soul are all staring back at me, wouldn’t you say?”
“I… yes, of course.” This all made perfect sense to the Assassin, though she wasn’t sure why.
“Now, the woman you see is a dangerous and violent criminal. Do you think that is a good thing?”
She meant to say, I do my work and I enjoy it, but what came out was, “No, of course not.”
Another drop of water fell from the pipe and smacked into the still surface of the water. Her reflection distorted with the ripples, then came back when the surface calmed again.
“Good, very good. Now then, I am going to help you. All you have to do is repeat after me. First, I want you to say, ‘I am loyal, and always have been loyal, to the Queen.’”
She paused, then said, “I am loyal, and always have been loyal, to the Queen.”
Drip. Another drop distorted her reflection in the water.
“And we are so proud of your work for the crown. Next, I want you to say, ‘My life’s purpose is to bring glory to the Empire.’”
“I… My life’s purpose is to bring glory to the Empire.”
Drip
Hours later, the assassin was finally allowed to look away from the puddle. She blinked, then took in her surroundings. Why was she in a dirty cell? She hadn't done anything to offend her queen, had she? She shuddered at the thought, then looked at the man who had saved her. He was looking at her with a pride that she knew was genuine.
"Thank you, sir," she said. It was hardly enough, but it was something.
"We are only glad to have you join us, young lady. Now, there is work to be done. Go and fetch your orders, please."
She was overjoyed at the prospect of helping her Empire achieve more glory. Of course she would do anything she was asked to do. Compelled by this desire, she quickly strode to the door of the cell.
"Oh, and one more thing," the man said. She turned and saw that he was offering her a wrench.
"No thank you, sir," she said, then walked away.
The Engineer peered an access hatch in the rear of a driller, then sighed. Could nobody do anything right? This soldering was sloppy and the wires were a tangled mess. If there was a light breeze, the entire assembly could collapse. The training she had given every officer on driller repair was clear and in depth. She couldn’t understand how someone could do such a messy job of repair. It was too bad she hadn't been here when the battle had happened.
If you want something done right, do it yourself, she mused, then got to work. The thought brought a small smile to her face. It was a saying of her mother’s. The woman always had a penchant for antiquated proverbs from the world that was. It was a silly hobby, but some of those sayings did hold true wisdom.
On second thought, it occurred to the Engineer that she certainly would be dead now if she had been here. It sobered her as she remembered what had happened to the Intelligence Officer.
A wire replaced here, a new resistor there, and, with a final slam of the access hatch, the driller hummed. Nobody but the Engineer could hear the music, but the hiss of the hydraulics and the hum of the motor were the symphony of industry to her.
As the first machine moved back to the storage hangar, she turned to the next driller in the line. This one had a long gash down its forward armor, which would need to be replaced, and was entirely missing its right drill. She set to work removing the bolts on the forward armor.
She had always been able to speak the language of machines, ever since her first job as a factory foreman. As such, she’d been twice as efficient as her peers. It just came to her, and she couldn’t explain it. Or, as she would say, she couldn’t explain why others couldn’t do it.
The forward armor came loose with the last bolt, and the Engineer lifted it out of place. Inside, the damage was worse. She wiped her hands on the greasy rag nearby, then reached for her tools. As she did so, she glanced at the door to the docks, which had just opened.
A woman strode through the doors with purpose. She wasted no time on her way up the stairs to the main control room, where new orders would be coming in from the Queen. The new arrival carried a knife at her side.
The Engineer frowned at this. She didn’t think the Queen had approved of hiring assassins, and had never heard news of this changing. Indeed, she could hardly imagine that the Queen would change her mind on this so soon after what had happened to the Intelligence Officer, in this very dock.
Oh, of course, she thought, then looked back at the doorway. Her suspicions were confirmed when a wispy man strode through the doorway. She turned back to her work with a shudder. That man unnerved her. It was just so unnatural, what he did.
He claimed that he was just persuasive, of course. But nobody bought that, of course. What he did was not science, like the Engineer’s work.
All’s fair in love and war, though she thought. That brought another sentimental grin to her face, and she began to pull out torn wires again, tuning in to the melody of metal.
