Patterns of Chaos: Book One - The First War
Chapter 12

Jennifer looked away from the news reports regarding the American President’s death. The investigation was ongoing, but authorities were not willing to call it an assassination quite yet. Jennifer knew different, and that worried her. How had Paul known where that container was going? That the President would schedule an impromptu press conference against the wishes of his advisors to show off how effectively they were intercepting Psi-Omegan contraband?

She now stood gazing at his former headquarters in Toronto. Following his arrest, the authorities discovered a vault near the top of the massive skyscraper, and demanded Paul open it. He refused. They told him they would simply cut their way in, and he had grinned.

“Oh, that would be a bad idea. See, it’s tamper-proof. Either entering the incorrect combination or trying to physically crack it sets off a series of sensors in the structure of the building. Then the building explodes. One of my more ingenious ideas, if I do say.”

Police had checked, and had indeed found massive amounts of explosives wired into key points of the building. Simply observing them, trying to determine if they could be disarmed. Experts from around the world had come to see, and had all the same conclusion: if any of the devices were removed, they would all detonate with enough force to level a five-block radius around the building.

Upon being told that they were adding additional charges regarding the explosives against him, he merely laughed. The only recourse they had was to assign a military guard to the building to deter anyone from entering and possibly destroying a portion of the city until such time that they would be able to disarm everything within the skyscraper..

Jennifer knew that although he was probably sadistic enough to simply leave an empty vault designed simply to mess with people, he might have actually left something there.

Maybe.

Perhaps.

There really was only one way to find out. In addition, she suspected that the only reason that the vault had not been unsealed was that Paul had locked it in a way that only he would be able to open.

And if she were right, she would be able to open it too.

That night, she checked the perimeter. The guards had gotten unfortunately lazy in the years since Psi-Omega had fled the building, no one tried to enter it because why would they? Only a select few knew about the vault, and she had had to scan their minds from afar to get the information. She hated doing that; it was too much like invading their homes, but it had to be done. The guards were clustered around the main entrance to the building; they would not see her from where she was...which was good, because if her plan did not work, she did not want an audience as she plummeted to the street. (Could she survive that? Would her body piece itself back together? Better to not think about it really.)

Steeling herself, Jennifer let her mind travel to the top of the building; getting a mental grip on the roof not unlike the one Paul had used to tear down the embassy. But she was trying the opposite: instead of pulling the building down, she started pulling herself up.

As she ascended, she kept her eyes closed and tried not to think about how high she was going, having never been a fan of heights to begin with. She kept herself focused on the climb, foot by foot, yard by yard until she felt the rooftop under her shoes and collapsed to her knees, breathing heavily.

“Definitely not doing that again.” She panted, taking time to recover her composure.

Calixta sat on board the stealth shuttle as Commander Karman expertly sliced through the atmosphere of Earth. She had her eyes closed, trying to conjure another precognitive vision.

“Not a fan of flying, ma’am?” Karman asked as their flight levelled out, now running parallel to the surface.

“Just fly, Commander, just fly.” She responded as pleasantly as she could. Deciding that no vision was forthcoming, she opened her eyes, turning them to the dossier the Emperor had given her on their North Korean contact. He needed to be pacified, for he was now concerned that the rigged cargo container had been meant for him or his leader. The Emperor gave her carte blanche to deal with the situation as she saw fit.

Everyone in this country was paranoid these days. Alliance troops were pushing inwards from the borders; Pyongyang was besieged, hell, just being able to find a secluded rendezvous location was difficult. Hence Karman’s inclusion on the mission. The man was an expert pilot, in addition to his bodyguard skills.

Before long they landed, the two of them disembarking casually towards their contact...who was in fact accompanied by Dear Leader himself.

This was not going to be pleasant.

The fat toad who currently ran this country was gesticulating wildly, cursing up a storm in Korean. He demanded answers about the bomb, why had they targeted him, why had the Emperor sent a woman to do his work, and on, and on.

Hearing that last made Calixta stop dead in her tracks. Either he did not know she was fluent in his language, or just did not care. She felt a cold rage start to develop in her mind.

“The Emperor sends me because he trusts my judgment more than he does yours.” She snapped in perfect Korean. The toad-like man’s eyes widened briefly, and then narrowed.

“Who are you to address me like this?” He shouted. Their contact, a weaselly man named Pak Kim, stared dumbfounded at the man’s audacity to challenge their benefactors.

“I speak for the Emperor. Were he here, he would have your tongue out for speaking like that. Be silent.”

Pak was desperately trying to reign in his head of state, but he was having no success. “You frame us for assassination, and then come to insult me? You tell your foolish master that I am changing terms of our deal.”

Calixta had to restrain laughter. This worm seriously thought he was in a position of strength to negotiate. “Really? And how exactly will you be changing them?”

“He will send his ships to sweep our borders of invaders, and then gift me with his immortality. Until he does this, I will not pay you another cent for weapons.”

Pak stood dumbfounded, Karman’s face remained neutral, but she could sense the rage building in him as well. “I...see. Please excuse me for a few minutes while I carefully consider your...generous...terms.”

She and Karman returned to the shuttle, and once there Karman’s face betrayed his anger. “Just give me the word, ma’am, and this hole of a country will be looking for a new master.”

Calixta laughed. “He really thinks he can dictate terms to us? If it wasn’t for our shipments he’d already be deposed.” She held up her hand, closed her eyes, and was silent a few seconds. When she opened her eyes, a strange smile played across her lips. “He’s got troops surrounding us, you know. He thinks if he takes us hostage, he’ll get what he wants.”

Karman swore. “We’re trapped then.”

Calixta’s smile widened. “Not at all, commander. Their weapons can’t penetrate the hull.” With that, she slapped the ramp controls, sealing the exit. “Commander, may I have the honor of ending our business relationships with this fool?”

Karman smiled, sitting down at his chair. Bullets began to ricochet off the hull as he began lift-off procedures. The toad was running at them, screaming. “Fire control is yours, ma’am.” Karman brought the vessel off the ground.

Calixta thumbed the firing stud, blasting a soccer ball sized hole through the arrogant man’s prodigious stomach. She smiled in satisfaction as he fell face first into the mud. She had never taken a life so directly before, but felt no remorse.

After all, it was done out of love for her Emperor. “Let’s press on to Site A, Commander.” The small ship lifted off above the trees and flew south.

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