| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <Shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Mysticism |
| Date: | Tue, 2 Feb 1999 00:00:26 +0000 |
>>>>>[TO: SIGA Archive
If I didn't know her so well, I'd say she was crazy.
I wish she was. I'd be less afraid.
+++++begin video
The vidcam must be Coppinger's: a point of view not often seen. He's
parking his car (a worryingly anodyne Chrysler-Nissan) outside one of
the walled compounds that line Foxhall Road in Georgetown. He types a
fast (and deliberately blurred) passcode into the gate, whose Judas-door
clicks open to admit him.
With a muttered curse, he steps back to the car, retrieving the HK227
that he'd left on the passenger seat, before he enters the grounds.
Though he might be unused to having such weapons to hand, something
about the way he tucks the stock into his shoulder suggests a
comfortable familiarity with its use.
The house is large, and old, and Coppinger seems to know his way:
eschewing the grounds, skirting the old colonial building and picking a
path through the grounds. A rabbit kicks out an alarm, then zigzags
desperately for its hole: the Director of the Strategic Intelligence
Gathering Agency ignores it, as he heads for a grove of alder trees in
the back corner.
By the grove, a startlingly strange leopard-woman melts out of the
shadows, the half-moon picking out her dappled fur and making the soft
downy whiteness of her belly glow.
"David." it says, in what might be Lilith's voice if she were talking
around far larger canines and carnaissals than any human jaw ever held.
"Zhat was quick."
"You said it was important." Coppinger's eyes flick from the leopard-
woman to the IWS L7 assault weapon propped against one tree, within easy
reach, and back. Even when Mitchell carried one of those 20mm murder
machines, Lilith never did... but she's got one loaded and ready now.
Something must be _badly_ scaring her.
"Iht ish." Lilith points at the alder grove, with a hand that looks more
like a paw: the fingers shortened and clawed, but the dewclaw extended
into a usable and opposable thumb.
That's detail, though, to what she indicates: between each tree, a
delicate tracery of silver threads hangs in a complex design, random and
yet ordered, the thread as fine as spider's silk and glowing very
faintly with a soft light.
Except in one place.
Between two of the alder trees, the silver threads are gone, ripped and
torn as if some great beast had stumbled through the web: scorching and
burning the beautiful, ghostly tracery as it passed.
"A death. A _big_ death, shrom zhe shouthvest." Lilith explains softly.
"Shomezhing very bad is coming. Soon."
"How soon?" Coppinger asks.
"Days. A few weeksh at mosht." the shapeshifter replies. "A Hunter at
least. Probably worshe. Probably _much_ worshe."
Coppinger sighs. "And we can't rush our schedule?"
"No. We jusht have to beat the clock." Lilith answers sombrely. "I've
got contingenshy plansh ready if Mitschell fallsh zhrough."
Coppinger pulls the sling for his HK227 onto his shoulder, lets the
weapon hang there. "We're tapdancing down a razor blade, Lilith..."
"Tell me about it." The leopard-woman replies, flowing into a slightly
more human form and reaching for the clothes (leggings and a T-shirt)
she'd left handy. "Do you want to kill the sonofabitch or not?"
"Stupid question. I'm just worried that NCA will hear about you being
worried."
"And not authorise-"
"They signed off on it. We have the physics package. Now we just need an
address." Coppinger replies coldly. "We need them to not change their
minds between now and deployment. I have secondary release authority,
Lilith. Their approval is enough, I don't need detailed permission."
"I didn't think we'd get it." Lilith marvels, shrugging the flak jacket
(pockets bulging with magazines for the L7) over her 'Damn This Glare!'
T-shirt as she flows back to being fully human.
"Well, we did. It's up to you, now, Lilith. I can deliver the goods, and
I can run interference after the dust settles, but it's up to you to get
the team on target and kill Nar'moh'ach. You fuck that up and nothing
else will matter."
Lilith - now merely a startlingly beautiful Human woman - stares
directly at Coppinger. "I'll make it happen, David. Or I'll die trying.
My life on it, before the Goddess."
"Lilith..." her Director says.
"My life on it." the shapeshifter repeats, picking up the L7. "Come on
inside, David. You want some coffee?"
+++++end video
I could almost feel sorry for the Doctor.
Almost.]<<<<<
-- D J H Coppinger <23:58:31/02-01-60>
Director
Strategic Intelligence Gathering Agency
