Alright, to business first. For any of you that have missed the first two chapters and want to read them, let me know your gmail account and i'll let you view them on google documents. Secondly, you read that right, this is chapter 4. I need to do more character research on some other guys and I want to make it right, so chapter 3 is on hold until I've read a few books. Luckily, chapter 4 starts a bit after 2 ends, so you're not missing anything vital.
Pre-Chapter Summary: Alright, back at chapter 2, the characters had broken through the trench lines of the rebel forces on the german colony planet of Charleswelt. They're currently hunting one Aleister Crowley, and are also on the look out for another german named Heinrich Himmler.
The early morning haze creeped over the mountain tops as dawn slowly took control of the sky. The forest around Zhanna seemed to come alive as the various native fauna started to come alive. The bizarre bird-like creatures that flew these foreign skies filled the air with their calls and chirps as they slowly woke up and began their day. The massive evergreen trees glistened with a slight dew and gave off a sweet smell of vegetation.
They had managed to get a very respectable distance behind them during the night. Finally after several hours of moving through thick and exhausting undergrowth, and several run ins with the native nocturnal predators that stalked these mountains, Broussard had deemed it time for them to take a quick few hours of rest before continuing on. From their position up against the mountains, they were far away from the rebel supply lines, and out of line of sight of anyone who might send a warning to the rebels that they were coming.
Numerous elite spellcasters trying to infiltrate far behind enemy lines would raise any defending commander’s eyes and it would quickly be discovered that they were no doubt on a mission of assassination against the ranking commanders. Best we keep to the wilds than try to brave the supply lines without being seen, Zhanna thought and then looked back towards the camp where everyone else was at. At least for the sake of some of us.
She and Seamus could generally move unimpeded along any route, provided there were shadows enough. Between the two of them, they could probably have reached the city already, but then would be without the heavy support that the other three showed. Zhanna scanned back over the horizon. Even given the several miles distance they had put down between themselves and the portal, they could still hear the gunfire from both sides as the Germans tried to press the advantage while they still had the momentum behind them, and the rebels tried to defend against the merciless German onslaught.
Several miles down below them, the rebel supply lines bustled with infantry and vehicles heading towards the front. Vehicles hauled massive land-bound guns, and walking artillery pieces clanked and whistled as they marched toward the lines. The rebels went about it with striking efficiency. They seemed to have no troubles getting artillery moving, or telling soldiers where to go. It was almost uncanny to watch them as they went about their different tasks. Watching carefully, she picked out an infantry truck, probably carrying several dozen soldiers in it, race towards the lines with almost reckless abandon that still seemed incredibly controlled. She traced it back towards its origin.
They hadn’t seen the city of Barossastad yet, but the presence of it was immediately called to the attention of anyone looking for it. Massive smoke clouds hung over a section beyond the next rise, as the great fires of industry burned away, no doubt making numerous weapons of war for aid against the German onslaught. That seemed likely anyway, as Zhanna recalled that the entire colony planet was one of the chief industrial sectors for the Germans. Supposed it had massive near-surface deposits of iron, copper and a half dozen other incredibly useful ores.
She gave the lines one last look, and then walked back to the camp. As she entered back in, she noticed that Broussard, Grigori, and Seamus were still quietly resting. Zhanna was holding watch for these last few hours, but Amellia was already awake. She held a coffee pot in her hand, and steam whistled out of the top of it. Pyromancy in one of its more domestic uses, Zhanna thought to herself, noting that if Amellia felt any pain from heating the coffee pot, she gave no notice.
“Drink?” Amellia asked, looking up as Zhanna came back into the camp.
“Yeah, I’ll take a bit,” Zhanna said after reaching back to her pack and removing the tin cup she carried. She extended it out towards Amellia and the cup was quickly filled with the steaming hot drink.
Amellia filled her own cup and took a drink. She swashed it around in her mouth for a few seconds, and then swallowed. She nodded, almost absent-mindedly, and then said, “That tastes awful.”
Zhanna went ahead and took a sip as well. It does taste awful. She finished off the cup and refilled it again.
“So, Lieutenant, didn’t Seamus once mention you knew Mr. Crowley?” Zhanna said, while taking another sip.
“Yes, I did,” she paused then said, “God, please don’t call me Lieutenant. I’m not big on rules and etiquette like the Major over there.” She looked back towards the sleeping bulk of Major Broussard. He sat with his knees up and his arms wrapped around them. It looked incredibly uncomfortable, and Zhanna briefly wondered how he was able to sleep sitting like that.
“It also makes me feel old and gnarly, Zhanna. I’m only two years older than you are,” Amellia said, shifting her gaze toward the supply line of the rebels, before looking back. “Yeah, I knew him. It was well a ways back. I’m surprised I remembered it at all. Cor, musta been, what? 1901, 1902? I was about seven at the time. This was after I had left the steel mills in London and was in India.”
Zhanna took another sip of the coffee. “You were with Redcliff then?” she asked.
Amellia nodded. “I didn’t really know who he was or what he did then. Even if I did know what he had been up to, I doubt I could have done anything. I mean, would you have tried to kill a man claiming to be your father after you found out how many people he’d killed, and all in the name of peace and some other things like that?”
Zhanna nodded without giving Amellia much of a pause after she asked. “If that was the case, I would have.”
Amellia raised her eyebrow, but only for a moment. “Well, what can we really expect from you? You killed your first bear when you were younger than that, if I remember right. But I digress. He occasionally entertained dignitaries of sorts at times, and one of those times it was Aleister Crowley himself, apparently fresh from the School of Magics at Cambridge. He must have only been twenty five at the time.”
Amellia paused and popped out a cramp in her neck. She reached back and massaged the muscles before continuing. “He was there looking for a book, or so he claimed at least. Said that one of the professors at the college needed it for some research. He showed Redcliff some sort of seal or paper that made his eyes bulge out, and he immediately accommodated him with whatever he wanted. Apparently everything he wanted meant, quite literally, everything he wanted, as I found out later. He… well you first need to understand that even though we were simply at an alliance with India, working out trade agreements. But that far into India, away from Delhi and Mumbai, some of the British acted much more like conquerors instead of trade partners. Redcliff was like that.”
“But you didn’t find out about that until later,” Zhanna said.
“Aye, that was the case. If I had known then, the fact he was a slave master, the fact that he was a tyrant and megalomaniac, I would have just stayed at the steel mill. But the past is over and gone. Regardless, Redcliff gave Crowley everything. Money, food, women, whatever he wanted. The man was cultured, refined, hedonistic and depraved beyond everyone I’d ever seen or heard of.”
“Depraved and hedonistic?” Zhanna said.
“Quite. I remember first meeting him, and looking into those sunken eyes. He never said anything to me at all, but it was all a manner of his posture. How he held himself, how he spoke to everyone else, it was as plain as the writing on a book that he wasn’t a good person,” Amellia said.
“You were able to judge that just from how he looked? I was expecting that you’d seen things, or he said something,” Zhanna said with an incredulous note in her voice.
“I was only seven or so at the time. I think Redcliff was at least slightly protective of me. Probably didn’t want his ace in the hole ruined before I could play knee-breaker for him. But if even the most belivable rumor about him that I heard was true, then it speaks volumes. Besides, before I left, I managed to read through Redcliff’s journals. Crowley was depraved, make no doubt about that. Ritual sex acts, supposed animal sacrifices, and a whole ‘nother pile of things. ‘Do what thou wilt,’ was his motto,” Amellia said while looking slightly disgusted.
“Ritual sex acts? I thought those had been disproven to have any note of substance or power in them centuries back,” Zhanna said with curiosity.
“Oh, they don’t. I never believed for a moment that they do. But he was big into teaching new magic. He looked for it everywhere that he went, seeing if there were other ways to get into esoteric dealings never before used. He did sex acts, male, female,” Amellia paused and raised her eyebrow,” Probably animals as well, but that one depends on who you talk to.”
“So what was he really after?” Zhanna asked, getting the subject back on track.
“Honestly, I really have no idea what he was looking for. He stayed for about a week, and then took about a dozen soldiers, some porters, some elephants for transportation, and disappeared. He never came back, nor did anyone that he took with him. About a month after he left, Redcliff was about to send out a search party for him, when it came to light that he, Crowley that is, he had an affair with Redcliff’s wife,” Amellia said.
“So he never send out a search part,” Zhanna said.
“He actually almost did, but that was because he wanted to track him down and then, as he said, ‘cut his head off and spit down the bastard’s throat’. So who knows? Maybe all that dirty stuff I read about him in Redcliff’s journal was just Redcliff justifying his response. But he was gone. Crowley never came back for anything that he had left behind. I didn’t hear a word about him ‘til some years later, that he had supposedly tried climbing a mountain, gotten several people killed and been to Egypt, London, Paris and New York. By then I had left Redcliff, and was apathetic about Redcliff’s plight.”
Zhanna nodded in agreement. “And then he steals another book, and flees all the way here. The guy could show the pope a few things or two about life, I’m sure.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t lost on me. He supposedly wasn’t that bad of a person right during the turn of the century. One has to wonder what happened to him,” Amellia said, looking up into the sky, idly fingering her empty coffee cup. “You have to wonder, if he regrets any of what he did. What brought him to this point in time, and did he really want to be here at all?”
Zhanna’s eyebrows rose. “I never figured you for a romantic, Lieutenant. What has happened in the past… nichevo. He’s a not nice person, did awful things, probably kicked puppies and ate kittens while he was at it. Either way, the past can’t be changed, and we’re going to have a fun time getting him to face it.”
Amellia looked back down to Zhanna. Amellia frowned at first, and then smirked. “You have a way of putting things to precise,” Amellia said.
“That’s the way I learned it back in the forests and the steppe. Things happen, for whatever reason they do, and once it has happened, you can’t take it back. The most you can do is take what happens with happiness and pleasure, or you can mope about, worrying about it, and becoming a miserable wreck,” Zhanna said.
“So when we were back at the German camp, why did you spend most of your time at that bar, drinking with Grigori? I’m not incredibly familiar with Russian customs, but when an Englishman sits at a bar drinking all night, he’s trying to forget something.”
Zhanna paused for a moment, but then nodded at Amellia and stood back up. “That is a fair enough question. It’s because it is part of being Russian. It’s fun to do nothing but drink, being left alone with your thoughts.” She smirked. “Some Russians just handle their alcohol better than others, or don’t get drunk as easily. We can drink it just like water, and have about as much of an effect. We’re indifferent, prideful, and we really don’t give a shit about tact. Well, I don’t at least.”
“I don’t know if I could think it’s any fun to do nothing but drink,” Seamus said as he woke up and sat up against the tree he had been resting by. He blinked several times, as his eyes adjusted to the light. This planet was slightly different from Earth. Zhanna had heard some scientist say something about higher oxygen and slightly lower gravity, as well as a dimmer star. For Zhanna that translated as feeling more easily refreshed, sometimes to the point of being light-headed, feeling like she weighed less, and that the light just wasn’t as bright as it was back on Earth.
“We can get away with doing nothing but drinking, because we Russians have given the world so much and that we Russians are so amazing, that we’re privileged to gain some rest when nothing important is happening,” Grigori said with a gruff voice as he sat up as well.
Zhanna smirked. “What Grigori Karamazov says is correct.”
“Really, I’d always heard that getting drunk in Russia only occurred because the list of Russian activies consists of either that or herding cows. I can see why you’d chose the first one at least,” Seamus said with a grin.
Zhanna slugged him in the arm, and he winced in mock pain. She glared at him for a moment as if expecting him to throw a punch back her way. When he didn’t, she smiled at him. “Figures, you Brits always let people walk all over you. Never bother to stand up for yourself against women.” She nodded towards Amellia, “With some exceptions, Lieutenant.”
“You wound me,” Seamus said.
“Not even slighty, uh sir,” Zhanna said with a grin. “I don’t wound.”
Seamus looked back toward Broussard, as the old man suddenly snapped awake. He stood up, shaking the dust and leaves off of him that had bothered to stick, and snapped and popped as he flexed, getting all his joints back into their proper alignments. He eyed the coffee pot with a growing lust, and he turned immediately to Amellia.
“Lieutenant, does that ah…?” he trailed off.
“There should be some left, sir,” Amellia said.
Broussard loped over to where the coffee pot sat, and he grabbed it. He quickly poured himself a cup, and he handed the cup back to Amellia. He took a long sip, draining the entire cup in one go. He smacked his lips, as he aired the cup out with a vigorous shaking. “That’s the good stuff. We ready to get moving now?” he said.
When no one answered to the negative, Broussard rolled his neck, popping several more muscles. Zhanna flinched slightly when she heard every muscle like that pop. As they made ready to leave, she paced back towards the spot she had been at earlier, and started watching the rebel troops moving all the supply line. The continued on, and Zhanna smiled to herself, as she watched them scurrying about. Nothing but rank and file soldiers charging forward into the meat grinder.
Even as she thought that, a massive shape loomed out of the sky. At first she thought it was one of the German airships, but she studied it closer, and realized that it was coming from the city, as opposed to the portal. She hadn’t heard that there were any rebel airships. Just another product of the industry it seemed. The airship was flying forward at breakneck speed, even for an airship, and Zhanna watched it cross the field, flying towards the German lines. She briefly wondered if the Germans were prepared for something like that, but then she mentally kicked herself. This was the Kaiser’s army. They’re always prepared for something like this.
They’d probably engage in broadside battles, or some walking artillery piece would get a lucky shot off and knock it out of the sky. Airships had come a long way since they were first invented several centuries back, and it was much trickier to knock one out of the sky. Isolated compartments as well as backflow valves, and secondary pump systems made sure that if the airship took a hit, it wouldn’t instantly be immolated or collapse to the ground in a fiery ball of destruction.
The airship faded out of sight, heading towards the German lines. Thinking about it for a moment, Zhanna wondered briefly on the tactical screw-up of whoever led the rebels. The airship stood out like a sore-thumb. Bombing runs and artillery barrages from the sky worked infinitely better at night, rather than during the early morning. What is going on here? She thought.
“Moving out!” Broussard’s voice called out, just loud enough for her to hear. She turned from her spot, and walked back to the camp.
