Life as a New Hire Ch. 38

I gingerly received the blasphemous weapon. It's oily, foul texture was more psychosomatic than real. It didn't make it any less creepy. But it got worse.

[Sumerian] "I'm I going to need this?" I asked her. She'd already turned to her next task. Her blood flowed back into Tsu's body.

When she finished 'inflating' the corpse, she began chanting using his pale bluish lips. Tsu howled out his mind-numbing fear as he began being dragged back 'home'.

[Mandarin] "Help me!" he screamed. "I'll do anything you want. Break a ward. Any ward."

[Mandarin] "I find your lack of faith disturbing," was all that came to mind.

He looked both terrified and confused at the same time. Who didn't know that classic line from Star Wars, especially this ready-made minion of the Dark Side? I didn't have a chance to ask him as Sarrat Irkalli drew his soul back into his body as if she was some sleazy time-share saleswoman who had tricked him into a ten year lease on a condo overlooking scenic Porte au Prince, Haiti.

(A brief glimpse of why Weave of Fate is a good thing)

Of greater import to me was that I'd been handed a tool to cut the Weave of Fate and breach the barrier between the dimension as we knew them – the Current Land of the Living and the detritus, dreams, nightmares, and births not yet recorded in the Once Had Been and all the Might Yet Be's.

These were fractured, incomplete mirrored realities that existed parallel with our Earth. Realms of demons, divinities, spirits – Paradises and Hells – all intersected in the Weave. The Weave of Fate bound everything together in order to keep Oblivion at bay. Stars were born. From their inferno's cradle, planets came into being and failed or prospered, yet all would perish.

Either the Great Fires that birthed them would consume them when their Star surrendered to Death, or they survived the death of their parent only to die inside and crumble into nothingness. But presence of Life was never completely extinguished. It flickered here then there. Sometimes in many places and in more than one instance hung on by a slender promise not yet unborn.

Life had found a way. I had been stupid to see the Weave as being solely concerned with the fates of Terra, or Sol. We terrestrials were mere a cresting of the waves of Creation ~ a minor summit in an ocean that had a history so long forgotten even the Weave could not comprehend its origin.

Divinities ... they were not caretakers of the Weave. They husbanded, pampered, punished and marshalled the forces of sentiency. It was blind, deaf and dumb humanity who by the very pulse of our hearts and the firing of our synapses, repaired and revitalized the Weave.

With our faith in our existence, on our belief in Science and a Universe that made sense, we fed a construct we could not classify with the normal five senses. We would provide, until our last breathe as a species, the vitality it took for Life to spring up somewhere else and continue on when Sol gave one last explosive impulse to the Universe and consumed Terra ~ devouring her child in her death-throes.

At some later date, in a twisted bout of insanity, or a fevered dream, this new life would see me, my shadow, my legend. Sanity would return – the Veil would reassert itself – they would wake-up and the truth of the Weave would fade from their conscious minds ... for most of them. For those tiny few ... they would become magicians, prophets, messiahs and powers so dark they would bring nightmares to life.

(The Plan ... then the other plan ... then whatever works)

Speaking of nightmares, I was living one and I was seriously in the mood to share. My assets were formidable.

-Three dead bodies ~ one violently exsanguinated then reanimated / one ripped to pieces then turned into a dagger / one electrocuted which qualified him as the 'least-freaky' dead.

-The aforementioned person turned into a new horrific device of destruction

-The aforementioned animated corpse

-One QCW-05 Chinese Suppressed Submachine Gun [DCV05 5.8 X 21mm subsonic round – 50 rnd. Mag.] (with 4 magazines)

-One QSW-06 Chinese Suppressed Pistol [DCV05 5.8 X 21mm subsonic round – 20 rnd. Mag.] (195mm/390mm with suppressor) (with 3 magazines)

-One regulation, single-bladed combat knife

-Miscellaneous bits of useful body armor

The make, model and especially the ammunition were important because normally, you didn't want to fire ANY firearm on plane. Those two Chinese death dealers were 'subsonic' rounds and I was about to gamble they couldn't punch through the plane's fuselage. Since I didn't want to die and was far more opposed to killing Aya while she had a chance left, I had to bet on that.

I had put on the Chinese commando's armored vest. He was a big Han, but that didn't equate to being as big as me. He also had tiny feet ~ a freaking 7 ½ ... what had he done? Cut off the feet of a midget and sown them on? Oh ...his package was rather insignificant. I wasn't going to put on his underwear and his pants didn't fit. I did put on his armored knee pads and forearm guards.

The clothing of both necromancers were no longer available so I ended up removing a black veil covering one of the windows and created an impromptu kilt; definitely not a man-skirt. I didn't care how Gaelic the Irish thought I was; I wasn't running into battle with my Family Jewels on display. The bastards I was going to kill had swords ... and guns.

My plan was very basic. Using a dash of surprise, I was going to sprint from my compartment over an unknown distance to the pilot's cabin and kill the Mo-Foes – the pilots that is. Why? I was betting somewhere in my plethora of Alal-induced skills was that of a pilot. Hopefully a jet pilot. When my life was imperiled, one of my funky brain patterns would reference the skill.

Then, as the only pilot left on the plane (I hoped), I could crash land this pig on some neutral location. Obstacle One: out of the window on the side I'd already exposed I saw nothing but water ... way, way down. I checked out the other side. Tons of the blue stuff.

I took the commando's watch. It was a fancy rig that covered a multitude of time zones. It still was set on New York time – 1:20 a.m. Wednesday. I hit 'reset'. Now it was 8:20 pm Tuesday. Considering I had been knocked out on Monday morning, this was so not good. Hmmm... it seemed to be almost ... the snazzy little toy had GPS. It happily reported that I was at 16.72N, 169.24W which put me ... OVER THE FUCKING PACIFIC OCEAN.

It had an altimeter setting. It was at 12.75 km ... I wanted to vomit. I calmed myself down. New plan ... just like the old plan. Nothing had really changed. I was going to crash land in the ocean. The Pacific Ocean. With a planeload of people who wanted to kill me. Well, planeload might be an exaggeration.

There was nothing to indicate to me the size of the plane except that it was a commercial passenger plane. Tsu sat up. The lack of any sustenance in the past ... 36 hours meant I didn't poop on myself.

[Sumerian] "Give me back my dagger," 'Tsu' extended 'his' hand.

'Say what, Bitch? It's mine now! Finders keepers, Losers weepers.' I returned her blade in the manner it was received – hilt toward her. I could see Tsu's soul trapped within his pupils.

"What does it do?" I inquired.

[Mandarin – haltingly at first] "It transfers energy cross the Weave." She was 'plucking' Tsu's mind.

That wasn't too helpful.

"What is the plan?" Not-Tsu asked me. That was even less encouraging.

"What was you three's idea for saving my life?" I requested.

'Render this aircraft's control systems inoperable, decompress the plane by blowing out all the available portals, whisk your body safely outside then deposit you on the closest landmass that promises further ... an inhabited island,' Dot Ishara answered from inside my head.

"What about Aya?"

"We are not here for Aya," Not-Tsu informed me.

"Well, that's not going to happen," I responded in the negative. "Saving Aya is Priority #1. So, what can you three do? And where is SzélAnya anyway?"

"She found a cyclone close by and is bringing it to us. Then she's going to harness its natural forces to fry the plane's avionics, communications and flight control systems," Not-Tsu reported with all the passion of a person recalling the number of brown crumbs on her plate after eating some toast.

"How many enemy are on board?"

"I take it you mean how many people are on this plane that are not Aya – Forty-seven," Ishara replied. "I can tell you where they are, but not what they do."

"Why not? You are a Goddess?"

"That would violate our policy of non-interference directly in mortal affairs," was her comeback.

"That policy isn't stopping SzélAnya," I reposed.

"She has been driven insane with loss, hopelessness and grief," Not-Tsu told me.

"You saved her," my Matron Goddess added. "If you let me back into your mind this could go much faster."

"No. I'll live within my self-imposed limitations. What can the two of you do for me ... and thank you, Sarrat Irkalli, for saving me while looking after your 'fucking with my family for your own goddess-damn reasons' personal agenda?

"I can guide you and heal your body," Dot Ishara stated.

"I can walk around in this mortal shell," Non-Tsu shrugged. "I can also access Tsu's memories and pretend to be him. I can fight using his native abilities as well." Eureka!

"Can you take a pistol, go to the cockpit and kill the pilots?"

"Yes."

"How much damage can ... Tsu take?"

"As long as the muscle and connective tissue is functioning, I can work the body. The level of physical trauma is otherwise irrelevant. This body cannot die," she let me know.

"Didn't you make the same mistake with Grandpa?" I suggested.

"It was not a mistake and this is different. Alal's physical form can quickly regenerate from any level of physical damage. This body doesn't do that. Until the last of the living matter perishes, this body will remain Tsu's tomb. It won't even enjoy the normal levels of human healing."

That's what I meant about Tsu not really being dead. I had to wonder when the last bits of DNA rotted inside bones and teeth.

To see if my plan had even a miniscule chance to work, I snatched up /tore the Velcro on one of the seat cushions. I buckled myself into the seat across the way, braced ... and fired into the opposite (exterior) wall. Pop! (The sound suppressor worked like gangbusters). Nothing. I could do this.

Then I heard the low hissing noise. New-new plan. Just like the old-new plan, but things had to be happen RIGHT NOW. The door opened and in came the 'mop and bucket' guy. I was still buckled in and the only one clearly visible since not-Tsu was still on the ground. His mouth opened and his lungs inflated. He was going to call for help.

I put a bullet into his chest, right of his sternum. He pitched backwards and his accoutrements went crashing behind him. I tossed not-Tsu the pistol.

"Go kill the pilots. I'll keep as many people occupied as I can," I hissed as I unbuckled myself. The bucket and cleaning supplies were falling down ... stairs?

[Mandarin] "Ho?" a voice called out from below. "Ho, don't screw around." I had a few seconds to master the situation. I had to open not-Tsu's door – break the wards – then race to the sound of the voice. "He's going to get his tongue ripped out, just like the last guy," I heard some woman bitch about the imagined fate of ole Ho.

As I leapt over his body, I realized that there was a narrow, spiral stairwell going down. I rushed to the bottom super-quick. The six people (four men and two women) I came across in what looked to be the plane's galley were stun-fucked to see me, that's for sure.

[Mandarin] "No sudden moves," I kept my voice calm yet lethal. "No one has die."

They all snuck peeks up the stairwell.

[Mandarin] "Ho won't be joining us for the rest of the flight," I scanned the room. No one had a gun, but two of them had nice ID badges. One said Senior Pilot and the other said Secondary Flight Engineer (aka Co-pilot). They also had a medical cabinet.

Well, they had kept me sedated for over thirty-six hours. They had to keep that somewhere.

[Mandarin] "Who handles the medicine here?" I asked. No takers.

[Mandarin] "Either someone is going to be honest, or I'm going to have to kill all six of you," I explained. No takers.

[Mandarin] "Last chance. You might want to consider that I'm down here which means the people upstairs were in no condition to stop me.

[Mandarin] "If we help you, they will kill us," the pilot weaseled. Didn't care. These people knew the kind of monsters they worked for. I shot that man in the heart. The rest jolted.

[Mandarin] "I killed him because I knew he wasn't the medical technician. I'm going to count down from 3 – 2 – 1" Pfttt! There went the co-pilot.

[Mandarin] "It is me!" the older of the two women exclaimed. "I'm the medical technician." The plane jolted, lurched then the engines began to race. That would be the pilot and co-pilot on duty dying.

[Mandarin] "Inject everyone with the drug they gave me and make it snappy," I barked. I heard mumbling in Mandarin and the sounds of feet hitting the floor from the 'rear'. "What's down there?" It seemed that we were 'In for a Penny, in for a Pound'.

[Mandarin] "The sleeping coach," a steward volunteered.

"Danke," I said as I steeled myself. The plane lurched again and I heard several suppressed weapons being fired from the front of the plane. I popped out into the hall, facing the rear in a crouch. There were two commandoes coming my way. I went full auto. The first two were caught flat-footed with their ballistic vests in hand. I cut them to pieces.

A third guy jumped back into his bunk, but dropped his QCW-05. I was pretty sure the walls of the sleeping cubicle weren't nearly as thick as the fuselage. I gave that bunk eight slugs and made two other guys duck for cover. I exchanged magazines before taking the reprieve to rush the two men I'd fatally wounded. I snatched up their pistols, submachine guns and one ear piece then dodged back to cover.

No one was in a rush to shoot back with their QCW's ~ maybe because they knew the rounds could fuck up the plane? The woman had pulled out two small vials and one needle. Screw the hygiene and cross contamination issues. I slipped the earpiece on.

[Mandarin] "How many pilots are on the plane?" I glared at the steward.

[Mandarin] "Ta-two," he stammered. I pointed QCW down the hallway and fired one blind burst.

[Mandarin] "Here," I handed him a fresh QCW. He didn't know what to do about that. "See, with those two dead here and my ally killing the two in the cabin, I'm the only one left who can fly this plane. It would behoove you to not let your friends kill me." He didn't believe me. "You, I pointed to the other woman. Call the cockpit."

For a second she was fearful of the possible reaction of her masters. Then the plane took a savage lurch and began descending rapidly. She was punching the call button like crazy. I popped off a few round in the hallway.

'Behind you!' Dot warned me.

I zipped back right before to QSW-06 rounds went racing through the space my head had just occupied. I poked my borrowed QCW and shot blindly back.

[Mandarin] "Send the two pilots up immediately," Zhen seethed.

[Mandarin] "Lady Duan (Zhen and Mu's family name), they are dead." Silence.

[Mandarin] "What do you mean? Speak carefully," Zhen's voice became utterly emotionless.

[Mandarin] "I ..." the female steward looked at me. I nodded. "The barbarian has broken free, murdered them and multiple warriors too. He also claims he can fly the ..."

The power died. We were all plunged into near darkness for several seconds.

What little illumination that reached us was from a handful of uncovered seat-side portals in the front of the jet. All of that was secondary to the plane nosing more and more.

[Mandarin] "Cease-fire! Cease-fire!" Mu shouted. Then, over their commlink, "We must take the barbarian alive. Teams – identify." The emergency lighting kicked on, giving the area an orange-ish glow.

[Mandarin] "I'll make it easy on you, Duan Mu," I interrupted the roll-call. "I speak your language, you Monkey. Drop your weapons and I'll fly this plane for you."

[Mandarin] "Surrender, or we will kill the girl."

[Mandarin] "Surrender, or I'll end you all," I countered.

[Mandarin] "You are bluffing. You wouldn't let the child die if you could help it," he started. The plane began to seriously nose over.

[Mandarin] "Mu, the controls are dead," Zhen called out. "We need get to the parachutes."

Fuck ... I hadn't counted on that.

'Dot?'

'We are ahead of this issue,' her psyche snuggled my mind. 'Hang onto something. Wait for it.'

[Mandarin] "Mu, you might want to hold up on killing Aya until you actually have a person successfully exit the plane first," I called out. The plane tipped forward then a thunderous boom went off beneath us resulting in the craft violently shooting up and knocking everyone into the ceiling as the plane righted itself.

The man's scream was almost lost in the explosive decompression. Two more screams followed in quick succession. Then the jet began to pitch forward and rolling to the left at the same time. I threw away my more animalistic fears of being ripped out the plane as a prelude to a 10 km fall and propelled myself forward. Despite the craft's roll and the aisles 10% decline.

I passed several 7P commandos who were clutching their seats with white knuckles. A few where keeping their companions from being sucked out of the open door near the cockpit. I floated toward the yawning abyss. On the third row from the door, Mu was crouched down, one arm around a seat belt and the other clutching Aya to him, an arm around her chest.

I arrested my progress for a second to pull close with them both.

"Hi Aya," I kissed her forehead. I had been aiming for her nose, but – you know, turbulence. "Are you ready to start killing people?"

"Of course, Fehér mén. Where did you get the zombie and the dragon?"

"Book of the Month Club ~ Young Adult Section," I shouted. "Gotta go."

As I left, I heard Aya hollering at Mu,

"I told you if you didn't leave him in Mexico City, you would all regret it," Aya reminded her Chinese captor of a conversation I hadn't been privy to.

I was half way out the door when a silverish-gray, serpentine tail encircled me and deposited me half way into the cockpit. Zhen was futilely struggling with the unresponsive control panel and dead stick. I instantly identified her problem. Non-Tsu had rammed her dagger into the pilot's console. As an isolated action, the multiple redundancies would have survived the damage.

As a locus for all sorts of yucky energies involving death and decay ~ this was a NTSB technical reconstruction nightmare. That was assuming they could locate us with the most advanced deep-sea investigating techniques. She was in the co-pilots seat. A commando was in the pilot's seat. I touched and imparted 100 kA to the minion of all things impure and foul.

Perhaps my sense of urgency overwhelmed SzélAnya. The man cooked and exploded into man-bits. My seat was now empty. Before Zhen could completely make out the coiled white-maned tail keeping me in place, the appendage withdrew. A second later, something slammed into the side of the aircraft and a smell of burning metal and rubber permeated the cabin.

We were in a bad way, but the door had been shut and sealed. I was busy waiting for Alal to show me how to fly a plane ... hmmm ... okay .... I wasn't sure what a DC-7 was, but it wasn't a commercial jet airliner. Mother-puss-bucket, I finally found something the Old Man didn't know and it was when my life literally depended on it.