Baldur’s Gate Heroes #015
Life on Earth, Part Three
“Shhhhhhhh… be vewy vewy quiet,” Imoen instructed, drawing a nonplussed gaze from Aerie who wondered why she had to say it in that voice, but she complied nonetheless.
This was what Imoen had needed a vehicle for; she had driven them into a poorer district where there were no shops and the streets were not so well maintained and packs of dogs roamed freely – Aerie knew about dogs, since De’Arnise Industries used to kill hundreds of them every day while researching a new eyeliner or some such, until she’d shown them that they could get exactly the same results using a computer simulation she had written. Presumably though, this was where all the dogs had come from. It was also where Imoen had her apartment which they were in front of now. It turned out they had already seen both of the sights.
“Missers Ratchet always has a nap in the afternoon,” the red head explained as she turned the lock, “That gives us a short window to get in, grab all my stuff and get out again… but be alert, okay?”
“Because of Missers Ratchet,” Aerie nodded her understanding.
“Exactly.”
“A-and because there’s a man named Mason who wants to kill you and it would make sense for him therefore to have someone watching the place where you live.”
“Yeah, that… that too. Look, coming back here is probably not a sane thing to do, but… it’s my stuff, damnit… it may not be much but there’s memories and things up there.”
“I… I think I understand,” Aerie looked pensively at her bracelet. The crystal had been strained a lot recently, what with Kalah and Sorel and her own exploits earlier; she probably shouldn’t use it again unless she really had to, at least not for a while. But Imoen seemed intent on hurtling into one life threatening crisis after another and it wasn’t her place to question it.
She was Avariel after all, a race created with a mission to guard the galaxy. They had always served someone, whether it be the Seldarine or whoever else needed their assistance. In the present day, on board the city ships, they managed to get by through always being there to give each other things to do… but it was expected that an Avariel separated from her people would seek a new master to serve. She wondered briefly whether she had chosen wisely – but however reckless she was, Aerie was sure Imoen’s intentions where good.
And so, she obediently accompanied Imoen up two flights of stairs to her apartment, which consisted of a small bathroom and a larger room which served as everything else, but clearly wasn’t large enough to contain everything in an orderly manner.
“Great… she hasn’t chucked it all out yet,” Imoen mumbled, “Hey, grab a box and just get as much into it as you can,” the red head pointed to some card containers piled in one corner. Naturally Aerie did as she was bidden.
“What’s this contraption?” The blonde asked as she removed clothing from where it had been thrown over some metal frame.
“It’s an exercise bike,” Imoen explained, “You know, in this day and age you’ve got to work to stay in perfect shape.”
“It – it doesn’t look like it’s used much….”
“What are talking about? Of course I use it,” Imoen responded as if she’d been accused of something, “Sometimes… once a month… well, two months. Maybe. Anyway, it’s hard to cycle and concentrate on what’s on TV at the same time. I think we can leave that.”
“Yes… a-and this?” Aerie held up a hollow wooden thing with strings across it and whose shape reminded her of some of the women she’d seen on posters outside.
“That was Garrick’s guitar. He gave it to Diana, and when she died most of her stuff got given to me.”
“But he was your friend too?”
“I guess… he never really paid much attention to me though. No one did when she was around. But I never really minded because I’d just accepted that was the way it was always going to be. They built a stature of her somewhere, and someone wrote a book about her life. I think I got mentioned once on page twenty two. But what the hell… I was never in it for the fame, or the money, or the adoration of most the men and quite a few of the women on the planet… doing good is its own reward right?” The red head said as she crashed onto the bed in her two room apartment which smelt faintly of turnip.
“Er… r-right,” Aerie stuttered. The only thing she knew for sure was that this was a very strange world and people. Perhaps not as strange as the Suicide Toads of Limbus III which exploded whenever they got scared, but strange enough. It seemed like humans had the capacity to do great good, but often couldn’t be bothered because there were other demands on their time and the rewards of good weren’t apparent. Not just a warm fuzzy feeling, but little things like having a society where people actually got along with each other and were happy. “Is-is this her?” She said after a moment, pointing to a picture on top of some draws.
“Yup… that’s the spotlight hogging bovine. Gorgeous ain’t she?”
“Probably… I guess,” Aerie looked closely at the picture. She obviously couldn’t judge what humans found attractive in females. Diana really looked a lot like Imoen, except that she was taller and the curves in her body were far more noticeable, especially on the torso. Looking at the picture again made Laura feel a bit inadequate with her shorter and flatter frame, but Aerie didn’t know why she should feel that way.
“Seriously, you’d have like her. Everyone did… I mean, she had charisma which attracted people to her, but she didn’t abuse it like a high school cheerleader does… sorry, you have no idea what I’m talking about do you? What I mean is she was actually nice to everyone and treated them all fairly.”
“Yes… I-I’m sure that she did,” Aerie said and put the picture in her box. But, she actually wasn’t so sure of that at all… she had another gut feeling, although she couldn’t explain it… she just felt that if Imoen had been treated fairly then she wouldn’t be where she was now. That Diana would have made sure people didn’t just ignore Imoen whereas it seemed… although it was just an impression of course… that she actually took Imoen for granted right up until the end. Anyway, based on appearances she still liked Imoen more.
“What about you?” Imoen asked. “I mean, I don’t how it works for your people. Do you have anything like a family? Friends?”
“All Avariel are created from the same gene pattern,” Aerie said after considering for just a moment, “So I guess we’re all sisters in a way.”
“Big family… good thing you don’t have weddings then. But there must have been some that you felt close to?”
“I suppose… F-fayanna, my teacher…” Aerie remembered the older Avariel. The young ELF often questioned the Avariel’s isolationism and how it went against their mission… the older one countered that the galaxy had changed and they weren’t needed anymore and that their interference could cause more harm than good. They would often debate for many hours… until Aerie decided she wanted to see for herself what the galaxy was like and stole a ship that was docked for repairs…
“Teacher?”
“Yes… l-like I said before, Avariel emerge from our pods fully grown but we’re still very childlike at first due to lacking experience… for the first nine years we have a tutor who accompanies us everywhere. Fayanna was a strong warrior and a wise teacher… exactly what every Avariel aspires to be,” Aerie wondered what her old teacher was doing now. Whether she had mourned her student’s loss… perhaps she’d tried to find her but met with the same fate, or worse… but that wasn’t likely. Fayanna was far more experienced than she had been and would have approached this world more cautiously, scouted the terrain before landing her ship. No, more likely she had moved on and was teaching another new Avariel. “W-what about this thing?” Aerie asked, wanting to change the subject. It was likely she would never know what happened so there was no point in dwelling on it.
“Ahh… a clockwork clock. That was given to me by Puffguts when I left to go adventuring. Definitely throw that in.”
“Clockwork?” Aerie listened to the ticking. “You mean it’s all powered by gears and springs… no electricity…”
“Er, well no… you just wind it up.”
“Amazing,” she held the object reverently. Sure, it’s functions where likely very limited, but it showed just how ingenious humans where, since they weren’t born with millennia’s worth of scientific knowledge. They’d had to evolve and learn it all themselves. This was exactly the sort of wonderful thing other Avariel missed out on… an actual clockwork clock. None in Faenya Dail could even conceive of such a thing. “But, I-I think the hands must be stuck.”
“No… I’ve been gone a few weeks. I’ve told you, you’ve got to wind it up…”
“But I can hear it ticking,” holding it closer, Aerie soon realized that it wasn’t the clock she heard ticking. The two of them went quiet for a moment.
“I don’t hear anything,” Imoen said at last.
“I think… that it’s coming from under the bed.”
“Right,” another moment of silence and this time Imoen seemed to hear it too. “It was probably set to arm when I lay down. And obviously it’s counting down, but it might go off if I move as well. Bit of a dilemma really,” the red head sucked one of her thumbs. “How are you at disarming bombs?”
“Not enough time,” Aerie had knelt beside the bed and found herself looking at a stripped down version of the clockwork clock strapped to several cylinders. “I-I can use a force field to try and contain the explosion. A-although the strain will still put me at considerable risk… do I have your permission to sacrifice myself ma’am?”
“Only if you’re sure there’s other way… and the ‘ma’am’ thing again. I don’t want you do this because you think you have to because you look at me as some kind of master. I don’t want you think of different than you would another Avariel. Do you underst…”
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“S-since we have mere seconds until the bomb goes off I think you should really try to get out of the way now.”
“Right. Sorry. I was just babbling because I’m afraid for our lives. You ready? Go!”
Imoen shot up and leapt, bracing for some sort of shockwave to come after her. All that did follow her however was a sort of popping sound and a hiss… Aerie had successfully contained the blast, a brief fireball rapidly consuming all the fuel available within the force field. The only evidence of any explosive device was now a singed football sized hole in the center of the bed.
Aerie stood there gritting her teeth until the fireball died, then collapsed with a pained expression on her face and a bleeding nose. The strain of trying to contain that much energy was almost too much for her. It consumed much of the energy within her own body and probably ruptured a few blood vessels as well.
“Hey! Kid?! Are you okay?” Imoen ran to the Avariel, whom she found very pale… well, more pale than usual. Fortunately she was still conscious and made a weak effort to get up onto her knees. Imoen put an arm around Aerie’s shoulders and helped the blonde to sit up on the bed.
“You okay?” The red head asked again, more calmly now. Aerie nodded, although she was only able to stay upright with Imoen’s support. “You want a tissue or anything?”
“I’m… h-hungry,” the Avariel said quietly.
“Sure. Soon as we’re done here we’ll go out and get something to eat. In the meantime maybe there’s something in the refrigerator that’ll give you a boost,” Imoen stood up. As soon as she did Aerie flopped onto her side in the space the red head had been sitting in.
There was little left in the refrigerator that was still edible, but she found an old energy drink that probably hadn’t gone completely bad yet. She returned with it, helped Aerie to sit up again and to get the bottle to her lips.
“Thanks,” Imoen said.
“W-what?” Aerie was perplexed. “I-it was you w-who got me the drink…”
“I mean for saving my life and stuff.”
“Oh… t-there’s no need to thank me, ma’am. I-I didn’t do it for the thanks.”
“No?”
“No… d-doing good is its own reward,” Aerie looked up and grinned facetiously through her bloody nose.
“You’re crazy,” Imoen sniggered and gave her friend a squeeze.
“I… I’m afraid I can’t help you much now ma’am,” the Avariel went serious again, and then through to sadness. She held up her bracelet and looked on Imoen with pleading… the crystal had gone completely dark. “I-it’s just been pushed beyond it’s limits lately… it-it will probably heal itself again, but… i-it’s likely to take a while. I-I’m sorry…”
“Don’t worry about it. Really, I’m not going to abandon you anywhere just because of that. It’s not your fault...”
“What the hell is all this noise?” The apartment door swung open and Missers Ratchet, the land lady stormed in, finding Imoen sat on the bed with her arm around a pretty blonde whose head in turn was falling into the red heads chest. “Disgusting,” the old woman snorted, “I always had my suspicions about you.”
“What?” Imoen rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. Can’t you see she’s hurt?”
“Yeah, well, that’s her problem ain’t it? My problem is whether or not you intend to pay any of the rent you owe for the last year.”
“Come on,” Imoen stood again. Aerie was just about able to sit up on her own now. “I don’t owe for an entire year, and anyway,” the red head straightened her back and turned her nose up imperiously, “Quite frankly Missers Ratchet, you should be paying me for staying in this rat infested flea market.”
“What are you talking about? There ain’t no rats.”
“Well… there’s rising damp look…”
“Rubbish.”
“And there are woodworms.”
“Well that’s no problem… they’ll drown in the damp. Now are you going to pay up or am I going to have to call the cops?”
“You know what? I-I want you to call the cops. Because, I bet as soon as they see the state of this place they’ll want to call the Environmental Protection Agency to do a thorough inspection. You’ll have landed yourself right in it.”
“Fine. I’ll call them. There were a man in here just last week fumigating the place.”
“Of course there was,” Imoen half snarled as she realized how the bomb had got in here, “and you didn’t think at all to check this man’s credentials?”
“Why should I? He were doing it for free,” the elderly woman turned away, “Oh, and so you know; only couples are allowed to stay in the same room together. If she stays she’ll have to rent one of the guest rooms.”
“Well that’s no good,” Imoen called as the old woman hobbled back out, “I can’t have sex with her if she’s in another room!”
The old woman gasped, stopped in her tracks and looked back at the red head who was grinning evilly.
“Dis… disgusting!” Ratchet made the sign of the cross and hurried away. Imoen wiped the smile away and got back to Aerie.
“Um… you d-don’t really want us to…” the Avariel asked fretfully.
“What? No, of course not. She’s just… you know,” Imoen looked into Aerie’s wide eyed expression. “No you don’t do you? I’ll explain later. Thing is, she called my bluff so we have to go now.”
“Oh! W-we have to remember the clockwork clock,” Aerie got up and retrieved the said item from where she’d left it. The energy drink had certainly done its job. “Puffguts gave it to you… and it did contribute in a small way to me saving your life just now.”
“Memories, eh? I’ll be able to look at that clock and always remember fondly the day I nearly died,” Imoen hurriedly threw a few more things into her own box, “now let’s scram.”
***
“Every time something goes wrong in this country it’s the CIA that gets the blame for it,” The head of the CIA, whose name he could not reveal but everyone knew it was Ian, complained outside his office. “They think we’re omnipotent… that we control the whole rotation of the Earth, and gravity, and who wins the Superbowl… but we’re just one little agency… we can’t do all that! It’s just… I-I just don’t think anyone can understand the pressure I’m under.”
“I know man… I know,” his colleague, a man wearing general’s stripes, gave his friend a reassuring pat on the back.
“I would never tell anyone else this, but… sometimes, I think about just selling our codes to the Russians and Chinese and ending it all.”
“You’ve just gotta hold together man.”
“It’s just so hard sometimes,” The head of the CIA sobbed, but he immediately wiped his tears away and stood appropriately straight and officious like when he heard someone call to them.
“Ahhh… gentleman. I have so looked forward to us working together for a change,” Aran Linvail grinned. He looked like a typical rogue, with cropped blonde hair and a scar above one eye and dressed in black clothes and leather, and indeed this was one book you could judge by its cover. He had overseen many defense projects a few years ago, until it was found out that he was selling secrets not only to foreign governments, but to underworld low life’s and corporations as well. Indeed, it was he who told the President of De’Arnise Industries all about they had and gave him all the plans to the secret base they had in the desert.
And yet despite these indiscretions it was true that he had always been successful. The secrets he sold to other countries had a way of countering each other and thus not really giving anyone any advantage. Even so he was found guilty of treason and fled the country, until he was offered a pardon a few days. He was also famed for his charm. Well, the general and the head of the CIA weren’t impressed at all.
“Is there something we can help you with, sir,” the general grunted a salute, acknowledging that Linvail was in charge of the operation but at the same making it clear that he’s rather it were someone else.
“Straight to business eh? I suppose I can respect that,” Aran nodded, “This Colonel of yours, the one who spoke to the alien… I’d like to see a copy of his debriefing. And a coffee, if that’s not too much trouble.”
“Sir! Right away, sir!”
“At ease general. Really, I don’t want any of you to think of me as a superior… more as a facilitator. I don’t want to get in the way of any of you doing your jobs.”
“Is that right, sir?” The General said more softly.
“Of course… I know how hard it can be. All the pressure you’re under. There are not many people you can talk to.”
“You… you understand?” The head of the CIA went a little misty eyed.
“Believe me…” Aran placed a hand on his shoulder, casting a gaze that penetrated deep into the head of the CIA’s soul. “I do.”
“I… um,” the head of the CIA straightened his suit, regaining some of his composure. “What the hell are you playing at general?!” He slapped his former best friend on the back of the head. “Fetch Mister Linvail his coffee at once! And I’ll get those documents you wanted sir… perhaps you’d like to use my office?”
“That’s so kind of you.”
“Really, no problem at all. To be honest I always thought the whole treason thing was a bit unnecessary. And please call me Ian.”
A short time later and Aran Linvail was comfortable in the head of the CIA’s office, coffee in one hand and Colonel Carter’s report in the other.
“There’s another name mentioned here,” he said at last, “Which you didn’t mention to the President. An Imoen…”
“Just a first name,” Ian explained, “And it’s very popular these days.”
“Perhaps,” Aran tapped the desk, “however, I seem to recall hearing something about an Imoen just a few days ago. I don’t think it was on TV… no, I think I was chatting to a hit man. Someone had put a bounty on her head… only a modest one so it didn’t seem important. Can’t remember who had placed the bounty and where… oh, but I’m sure it will come back to me.”
***
Meanwhile, across the street from Imoen’s apartment was parked a small car with black windows, from which four rather sinister looking men in fedoras, a lawyer, and a fluffy white cat watched as the red head and a blonde girl they didn’t recognize were chased from the building by a frenzied old woman wielding a bread roller.
