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Deeper

There are times when the best form of deception is to tell the truth.

Not the whole truth, of course, but enough of a truth so as to still the nerves and assuage the concerns of the person you’re trying to deceive.

This was one of those cases for Abel, deep in an old-world missile silo, with the smell of hot buckwheat and tea in the air. Doctor Meyer would not let him leave without giving an answer and with those Lupiad gland implants in her nose, there was a good chance she, at the very least believed she could sniff out a lie.

“After the accident on the train, a unit of Lacertans rescued me. They took me to their camp and helped me reach the town where your men found me. After that, we went our separate ways and they did not tell me where they were going.”

Meyer stared and sniffed, just as Abel had expected. Aliens loved to bluff about being able to smell lies but it was not much different than a polygraph machine, easily exploited as long as you knew their limitations.

If the Doctor was as talented as she proclaimed, no doubt she knew this but wanted to see Abel’s reaction or press him for more information.

“No clues about where they might have gone?”

Abel shook his head and sipped his cup of strong black tea. Though Abel usually liked the taste of bitter tea, he found this one a bit strong and wished for a sugar cube or two.

“Nothing at all?”

Meyer leaned in, scowling and sniffing. She looked simultaneously ridiculous and threatening, but Abel kept his cool. After all, he didn’t honestly know of any leads where they might have gone.

The dacha.

A chill went down Abel’s spine as the doctor was investigating him. Perspiration broke out on his forehead. Abel saw the doctor’s pupils widen and her probing sniffs stop.

“A dacha,” Abel spoke before the doctor could press him. “There was a dacha we stayed at, very isolated, about a day or two west of the town I was at. There’s a chance they might have fled back there for shelter.”

“Why do you think that?”

“The Regulians bombed their original camp, they don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

Abel resisted the urge to beat himself up mentally. He didn’t want Meyer to pick up on his distress but he could not help but feel like he was betraying his beloved Lacertans.

“Why did you let them go?” Meyer crossed her arms.

“Felt like I owed them one,” Abel sighed, leaning back in his chair. “They’d already failed in their mission so they weren’t really a threat to us, plus they did right by me.”

Meyer suddenly reached out and patted Abel on the shoulder gently, “I’m sorry about the interrogation. I will find a way to arrange for a mission to the dacha that won’t reveal your erotic tango with the lizards.”

“I never sai-”

“You didn’t have to,” Meyer tapped her nose. “Just be glad no one else here can smell Lacertan bodily excretions and semen on your skin. The rest would not be so...understanding...especially Glass. Don’t test the value of your relation to him.”

Meyer turned around and slowly walked out of the room. The moment she stepped around the corner, Abel unleashed his emotions.

I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry…

It was a cool summer night, with the sun having just set behind a small hill that Brolath was resting in the shadows of. The two Lacertans were milling about, chatting with one another in their harsh tongue while Brolath kept guard over the human.

He was awake, Brolath could tell. However, Brolath was a little exhausted from the walk through the steppes to find this hiding spot and for once decided to indulge his lazy side. Besides, it would give the human time to form all sorts of nightmares about what they had in mind for him.

Brolath ran his pads along the barrel of his pistol. The Lacertans had not bothered to restrain him or take his weapon away again. Why?

They had their backs turned to Brolath. No doubt their armor would protect their body, but Brolath doubted their scales were strong enough to withstand the heat of his pistol’s laser. He could shoot them before they had a moment to turn around and react.

So why did he not?

Logically, Brolath had one of the humans and could continue the mission on his own. While the lizards could prove handy as an extra set of guns, those guns could quickly turn on him.

But if they were going to turn on him...why let him keep his gun?

Some kind of bug in their programming? Brolath suggested to himself. It was becoming increasingly difficult to view them as mere drones of Logos, but he was also taught extensively while rising through the ranks that the lizards could be quite convincing.

People make mistakes, drones do not. Then perhaps this was not a mistake at all?

But that can’t be.

I would never trust an enemy like that!

Lashar patted Asha on the shoulder and the latter stepped away from the makeshift camp, swinging behind the hill and vanishing. The black Lacertan turned and stepped over to Brolath, a bag of potato chips in his hands.

“Chip?” Lashar asked as he sat down on the dirt next to Brolath.

Brolath looked down at the potato chip, resting on the white scales of Lashar’s palm. Who knew what kind of secretions were seeping into the snack?

“Only my saliva is lethal, as that sniper found out,” Lashar rocked the chip around on his palm. “Guarantee you, any weird shit on my scales is gonna be drowned out by the flavor of sour cream and onion!”

“Onions are poisonous to us,” Brolath grumbled.

“Great news! There’s no actual onion in this, just some sulfur compound that gives it an onion taste,” Lashar pushed his palm towards Brolath. “Go on, break bread with the enemy just this once! I won’t tell your boss!”

Sighing, Brolath reached and grabbed the chip. The side of Brolath’s paw brushed against Lashar’s scales, cold and hard, and Brolath suppressed a shudder.

Can’t believe I’m doing this.

Brolath popped the chip into his mouth and chewed. Indeed, it tasted heavily of artificial flavors but it was heavy in salt and thus quite appealing to his Regulian palette.

“Good, huh?” Lashar scooped up a handful and chomped them. “If I keep eating these, I’m gonna end up as big as our mission’s commander.”

“A big Lacertan?” Brolath asked.

“Yeah.”

“Red scales?”

Lashar paused with his claws still in the bag, “You met him,” he said, not asking.

“He is dead.”

“We knew,” Lashar sighed, looking up at the night sky. “I mean, we didn’t know for sure, but we...knew. After your people razed our camp.”

“He was not well. He was given a quick execution, painless.”

A quick execution after a brutal torture session, to be exact. However, Brolath, for whatever reason, did not want to torment the Lacertan and softened the blow.

“Thank you,” Lashar shut his red eyes. “He was a good leader at one point. The failure of our mission and our separation from Logos traumatized him. I wish we could have helped him but at least he’s at rest.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Brolath’s face burned the moment he felt the words slip out of his mouth. Lashar looked over at Brolath and blinked. As inexpressive as a Lacertan’s face is, Lashar’s still screamed of surprise.

“Well, well...” Lashar chuckled. He clearly wanted to tease the Regulian but held off, “...it’s okay. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry we threatened you.”

Brolath lifted his gun, keeping the barrel aimed safely off to the side, “Why did you let me keep this?”

“We both want to find Abel, don’t we? And whatever those rebels have planned, it can’t be good for Lacertans either. As far as I’m concerned, we’re allies now and when this is all over, maybe we can talk about being friends.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Brolath grumbled.

“I guess that depends on what you plan to do with the weapon.”

“It’s too dangerous to keep around, just like your AI,” Brolath reached over and grabbed another chip from the bag. “We’ll destroy it.”

“You were told that was the plan?”

Brolath tensed his back, “What are you inferring?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure,” Lashar paused, staring straight into Brolath’s eyes. “You were told that it was to be destroyed?”

“Yes,” Brolath said but in his mind struggled to remember the exact moment he was told that.

And Brolath had an excellent memory.

“What if it could be weaponized against us in the war?”

Brolath shook his head, “Don’t be stupid.”

“No, think about it! If this shit got into the air of our home, it could wipe out us and all species under Logos in the blink of an eye. Are you saying the Empire would not use that if it meant ending the war victoriously?”

“We don’t use things like this carelessly,” Brolath said, chewing on a chip. “We learned a lot from the AI incident and careless use of technology can result in unfortunate problems down the line.”

“Unfortunate problems like...” Lashar pointed at his chest.

“Yes.”

“So then, we both want to destroy this weapon and all traces of it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess we’re allies.”

Lashar reached out and shook Brolath’s paw, much like humans did when agreeing upon something. It was a better alternative than nuzzling in the Regulian way, a little too close to Lashar’s lethal saliva.

“I guess so.”

Frozen by his own guilt, Abel remained the cafeteria for some time while the buckwheat and tea got cold.

Abel tapped his datapad, there was no way in hell he could use it right now without his messages being intercepted. They were encrypted of course, but it wouldn’t take long to flag down whose new machine on the network it was coming from and that would be suspicion enough for Abel to get killed.

This was a very tight operation. More strict than any other rebel cell Abel had palled around with.

He was alone in a strange place. Did he have free reign to roam around?

Thankfully, a familiar face appeared to break the ice.

“Abel, oh my god!” Hada cried out and rushed into the room, hugging him. “I thought you were dead!”

Abel remained seated, relieved to meet his friend once more but at the same time quietly scared of her growing radicalization. Abel was, after all, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, no matter how he sliced it.

“It’ll take more than a train-eating monster to kill me,” Abel forced a grin despite being in very poor humor.

“When I had to-”

“Don’t,” Abel cut her off. “If you hadn’t, perhaps the entire train would have been destroyed. Where would we be then?”

“Fuck,” Hada wiped her eyes. “I know that, but I don’t fucking like to think about it!”

“We’re fine now, we don’t have to think about it,” Abel said. “It didn’t happen, we’re all okay.”

“Still, I owe you one,” Hada sighed. “Wanna go to the shooting range? It’s on me, they got all kinds of old Soviet stuff.”

Abel smiled, “I’d like that.”

Hada led the way out of the cafeteria and down the bleak hallways. This might very well be the last time Abel could enjoy something fun with his friend, he tried to push the mission out of his head but could not.

Passing several guard, Hada pointed to various secured areas.

“...that’s where Glass meets with the Council. Is he really your Uncle?”

“Yes, I think so,” Abel coughed. “Council?”

“The Atomic Council,” Hada nodded, continuing down the hallway.

“You speak of them like I should know who they are.”

“Last remnants of the old Earth nuclear powers. Politicians, generals, soldiers, scientists, engineers...” Hada waved her hand around in a circle. “All those types, all loaded up in nuclear subs deep below the ocean, surfacing only to get supplies. Some of them still have nukes loaded up on them, not that the nukes did much good against the Regulians.”

“They were the ones who picked Glass up?”

“We owe everything to them,” Hada exclaimed. “Abel, we’re going to do it! We’re going to take Earth back!”

And those subs could be used to transport the weapon across the globe without the Regulians noticing. Perhaps could even be loaded up on a warhead and launched…

Their plan could work. The only problem is the science but if they get that controlled…

This could work.

If I stood aside and let them continue, it could work.

But that would mean father and Yin would be killed.

“How do you think the aliens would act if Earth became unusable for them? Wouldn’t the Regulians and Lacertans bomb us back to the stone age?”

“Glass has plans for that,” Hada smiled.

They passed a plate-glass door that had nothing more than a hallway leading to another identical door past it. Beyond that, Abel could not see anything but he knew exactly what it was.

“The bio-lab,” Hada motioned. “I’ve never been in there, but Glass might want to show you around, being his relation and all.”

“I admit to being a tad curious,” Abel rubbed his chin. “Natural sciences are hardly my forte but considering how important the project here is to our future freedom...”

“I’m sure all you have to do is ask,” Hada shrugged. “Glass is a scary guy but he brightens up like the sun whenever you’re mentioned.”

“Scary?”

“Ruthless,” Hada pursed her lips and continued down the hall. “Necessary ruthlessness, though.”

Seems even Hada, at the height of her radicalization has some reservations...if only she could be swayed back.

But this wasn’t the time to even attempt it, not while they were surrounded by guards armed with Kalashnikovs and far less empathy for alien life.

“What do you make of Dr. Meyer?” Abel asked.

“An odd one,” Hada approached the Armory door and sliced a keycard through a reader. The door clicked and she slid it open. “Perhaps an even bigger genius than Glass when it comes to biology but her devotion...”

Hada cut herself off as she approached the plate-glass barrier between her and the Quartermaster, a middle-aged man with a prosthetic hand running out of his right sleeve. His eyes were vacant as he listened to Hada and he swung around passively before limping off to the side.

No doubt given this position after an injury took him out of service. He is not comfortable here, his eyes speak of defeat. Likely wanted to continue fighting, perhaps one last mission to regain his glory in death, but was refused.

I have never seen a Regulian soldier with this much repressed desire to fight. If given the order, he would fight until the end.

Abel snapped out of his analysis after hearing a thunk on the counter. “Yuri,” as his uniform stated was his name, had placed two old sub-machine guns with drum magazines before them.

“PPSh-41, the most produced sub-machine gun in World War II,” Yuri announced. His voice was dispassionate, he was doing as he was ordered but had no love of it. “It still gets some use here.”

“Thank you,” Hada nodded and passed one of the guns to Abel, who cradled it carefully.

Hada led Abel down the hall to the firing range and they both set up camp in two booths next to each other. Abel immediately put on ear-plugs and ballistic glasses before checking his gun to make sure it was in good shape and chambering a bullet before aiming down-range.

A cardboard cut-out of a Regulian holding a screaming human woman by the throat and breast popped up and Abel immediately put a hole in the feline’s head, with Hada twinning it shortly after.

The enemy is coming to rape our women...of course, with the Regulian Army, it was more than just xenophobic propaganda.

The sub-machine gun had a bit more kick than Abel was expecting and he found holding it by the drum magazine’s bottom to be a bit awkward.

Two Lupiads with guns aimed towards Abel appeared and both went down after one shot from Hada and Abel.

After that, five cutouts appeared. One large Regulian using a Lupiad, Sirian, Vulpeculan, and Procyonid as meat-shields. Abel and Hada managed to tag them all, except for the Vulpeculan, which folded back down unharmed.

A human popped up with the barrel of a rifle aimed at Abel and Abel fired.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

“You killed one of ours, Abel!” Hada shouted, laughing.

“He had a gun aimed at me!”

“It happens all the time in the field, you gotta be more careful!”

“Then that prick over there,” Abel pointed to the cardboard cut-out, which had not folded back down and now sported a dime-sized hole in his face, “should be practicing better trigger discipline!”

“Like I said, it happens all the time in the field and yeah, people shouldn’t point their guns at someone unless they plan to shoot,” Hada paused and Abel heard her removing the magazine from her gun. “But when it happens, it’s up to you and them not to shoot each-other, like you just did.”

Abel paused and stared at the human. He was snarling like a mad dog and sure as hell did not look like a friendly. Still, Abel had to confess, “You might have a point.”

“People might think you’re a self-hating human if you keep failing training!”

“Wait, it’s over!?”

“One friendly killed is game over at the range,” Hada came up behind Abel and patted him on the back. “Disarm your gun, soldier.”

Abel popped the magazine out and removed the chambered bullet. With a sigh, he followed Hada back to the Quartermaster to return the guns.

“Don’t worry, happens to everyone the first time! Glass’ unit doesn’t fuck around, no mistakes are tolerated...at least after training is over.”

The Quartermaster was not alone when Abel followed Hada back into the waiting room. Dr. Meyer was standing before the desk, running her fingers along a revolver barrel.

Nagant M1895. Outdated loading mechanism even for its production date. One of the few revolvers that a suppressor can be used with.

What a strange choice...but then, this Armory is full of curiosities.

“Ah, Abel,” Meyer placed the revolver back on the counter and spun around. “I have interesting news.”

Abel gripped his gun tight, there was something odd about the tone of her voice.

“What is it?”

“Regarding that thing we talked about, you don’t have to worry about it,” Meyer crossed her arms. “One of our teams found a lone Lacertan and are bringing him here as we speak.”

“Are you serious!?” Hada exclaimed with joy. “That means...”

“Lets not get too excited yet, the Lacertans will likely be the biggest challenge,” Meyer sighed but could not suppress a smile. “But yes, we finally have the last specimen we need.”

“Abel, can you believe it!?” Hada nudged Abel in the shoulder.

Abel’s blood was cold and he struggled to nod along with the jubilation.

There were only two Lacertans on Earth and Abel wanted neither of them to be here.

Not like this.