London Exclusion Zone Outskirts

January 2004

Lucy's breath steamed in the air as the chill of winter persisted in spite of the rising sun. Today was finally the day that their work would be put through its proper paces, and everyone wanted to get an early start on the preparations so that nothing would be missed at the critical moment.

They'd been pushed hard to get things done before the new year. Ffion had been constantly tweaking some connection here or re-milling some panel there, adding micro-adjustments to the inscription array to ensure the mana flow was as efficient as possible. Konstantin practically lived in the on-site dormitories, coordinating with researchers day in and day out. She herself hadn't gotten a proper night's rest for almost a week, now, all for one very frustrating reason.

The Cloudpiercer project had gone public. And, as the de-facto team lead of the breakthrough invention, it fell to her to be the face the world got to see.

One of these days, she'd have to ask the professor how he managed to avoid the press at all times. It felt like the cameras and microphones hadn't stopped hounding her for days, now.

"Miss Wright! Can we have a statement concerning your thoughts on what you might find?"

"Miss Wright! A word on the prior power outages caused by previous iterations, if you will?"

"Miss Wright! Has there been any signs of Russian interference-"

"Miss Wright!"

"Miss Wright!"

"Miss Wright-"

She didn't even remember the answers she was giving for more than a few moments after she delivered them. All she could focus on was keeping her expression genial, providing just enough of an answer to get them to stop bothering her, and politely but briskly walking towards areas marked authorized personnel only when they couldn't take the hint. It was, hands down, the most stressful thing she had ever encountered.

The cameras always seemed to find her, snapping in her directions like unblinking eyes. Mental images of angler fish danced on the periphery of her thoughts whenever she moved across the publicly accessible areas the site directors had – reluctantly – set up to avoid outrage. Microphones dangled overhead like lures, hoping to bait her into saying just the right words for them to tear into her with, some slip-up of a soundbite that would launch their careers into the stratosphere if she wasn't careful. The crash course she'd received from Agent Jansman when the news broke had proven invaluable in allowing her to hold her own, but even then she still felt like a small fish in a very big pond.

"Miss Wright, what is your relation with your mentor, Professor Edison Smith?"

Her eye twitched involuntarily. She needed to get to the observation deck. Despite the chill in the air indicating the imminent arrival of snowfall, her head felt feverishly hot to the touch. There were too many people here. Too many unblinking lenses.

"I-I'm terribly sorry," she excused herself with only a slight stutter. "But perhaps we can continue this conversation another time. I am needed elsewhere to oversee the final procedures."

The reporter clearly wasn't looking to allow her to leave without an answer, but she was well past looking for the man's permission at this point. Hurrying past him as she just barely avoided hyperventilating, two members of the security force provided by Eleftorov's branch of the joint operation stepped forward to give her an opening to escape.

One glare from the heavily-bundled Russian nonhumans was all it took for the news crews to back off. As nervous as the orcs made her when they'd first arrived, she did have to admit that the agent they answered to knew how to play to his strengths, and find others who could do similar.

Lucy hurried on towards the place where the magic would be – quite literally – happening.

Approaching the front door was no simple matter of just walking in, anymore. Too much important infrastructure, and not an insignificant number of sensitive data. The process of confirming her identity was slow, laborious, and mostly done out in the elements, but the removal of immediate stressors made it feel like a way to meditatively decompress. It had gotten to the point where she might actually be beginning to prefer it this way, she realized.

Ten minutes of tedious visual, electronic and magical inspections later, and she was finally allowed inside the workshop. With a sigh of relief, she doffed the heavy down jacket she'd been provided for the increasingly poor weather and began making her way through the climate-controlled hallways within.

Her boots clacked audibly against the tile as she made her way towards the center, researchers roughly twice her age showing deference by clearing a path for her as she made her way to her destination.

It all felt… utterly alien to her. Her whole life, she hadn't been anything special. Still wasn't, if she was being perfectly honest with herself. For God's sake, she hadn't even broken through and gotten Domain talent, yet. Everything she provided was entirely theory, and the only thing that made that theory worthwhile to anyone was the long hours she spent crunching the numbers, day after day.

Had she been even a little more narcissistic, perhaps the attention she was getting would have been enthralling. Instead, it just felt claustrophobic. Like there was some perfect, unattainable ideal version of her that she would never measure up to, and it was only a matter of time before the facade of it broke down. She hated it, and at the same time couldn't show that she hated it.

A leader never backs down where others might falter, Jansman's words rang out in her head. Though, that's simply the ideal. When you falter, therefore, you must not show it even as it is happening.

What a crappy ethos to live by. She wished she was in a position where she had any option other than to follow it.

The final door awaited her, and without a word to the guards manning the station she inserted a keycard into the reader. As it had many times before already, the enchantments within the card's plastic filament responded to the leyline without issue, confirming her identity and allowing her access to the belly of the beast.

The other two were already inside, Konstantin operating purely on what seemed to be a combination of coffee and spite while Ffion was most definitely only awake because of the latter. All three of them had expected something to go wrong in the 11th hour, and evidently their suspicions had turned out to be true. One of the innermost inscriptions had given some worrying signs of Domain fluctuation in last night's preemptive testing. It had been agreed that they shouldn't risk it, and replacement parts had been rush-ordered to the other researchers while Ffion had stayed up all night carefully removing the faulty piece and any other neighboring layers that might conflict with it.

"How are we looking?", Lucy asked them with a voice that sounded about as dead as they all felt.

Konstantin looked up from his station with a hint of bewilderment, not even realizing she had arrived until she spoke. "Sensor suite is… ready to go," he mumbled, lack of sleep apparently slowing his train of thought down. "Nothing unexpected on any frequency bands. Tight beam communications looking… better than most days. There should be no problems with the add-ons," he concluded.

She nodded, satisfied. "Ffion? How about you?"

A clamor of steel tools rattled from behind the Cloudpiercer, along with a few less-than-ladylike swears under the elf's breath as she closed the maintenance panel behind her.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"There were a few channels in the replacement that were off by a few microns, but they'll do the job more than well enough. Guess we can't expect everything to be perfect…"

As she stood up straight, the heavy eyebags she'd been hiding in her engineering work became immediately obvious. If Lucy were to guess, she'd had to do more than just burn the candle at both ends to make it work 'well enough'.

She smiled grimly in solidarity. "Get some rest, you two. You did a good job, and we need to be totally ready for the activation tonight."

Ffion nodded, halfheartedly attempting to stifle a yawn. "Are we… haaah… Is Professor Smith going to be with us for it? I haven't seen him around all day…"

"I'm not quite sure where he is, either. Probably hiding from the paparazzi… Konstantin?"

"Have not seen, no."

"Wait, really? I thought he'd sent off some requests for you to take care of for him."

"That was two days ago. Like she said, he's been under the radar since then." To emphasize his point, he tapped the actual radar monitor built into his station behind the Cloudpiercer's control panel.

Lucy sighed. "Well… I'm sure he wouldn't miss the activation, at least."

< -|- -|- >

Agent Blackthorne had the unfortunate duty of addressing the sloppy old-timer who'd found his way into his office. Professor Smith, for all his talent and ability, lived up to his reputation of being a pain to work with both in public as well as off-record.

"I find it… interesting that you would decide to air your concerns with me," he ventured diplomatically. "After all, Director Jansman is the overseeing figure in this joint operation. Surely, any misgivings you might have would be better addressed by him?"

Edison snorted. "Please. I know a puppet leader when I see one. Word of advice, take some time to study draconic internal politics when you get the chance. It used to be… something else, to say the least."

Blackthorne allowed himself the barest hint of a smirk. "I have, as a matter of fact. Quite the cloak-and-dagger intrigue they got up to, didn't they? I must admit, studying the subject's become somewhat of a personal hobby of mine. Though your book on the topic is far and away the best primary source on the matter, I believe."

The professor returned his remarks with a completely deadpan glower.

"Cut the bullshit and cut the flattery," he interjected. "You know something I don't, and seem to be getting off on the fact that you do. Don't act like there isn't something, either. The signs have been pretty damn obvious to me."

"Oh?" Blackthorne leaned in closer over his desk, steepling his fingers in front of him. "And just what might those signs be, I wonder?"

He got an unamused look in response, mainly for doing exactly what Edison said not to do. The man appeared to be thoroughly done with his games, it would appear.

"When I called in the favor originally," the professor elaborated, "that request should have only warranted a single government's involvement, namely my own. Not a joint coalition of every superpower under the sun besides China. For a couple of college kids in need of a chance to reach their fullest potential, it seems like overkill to me."

"Perhaps they represent something that is just that… exceptional, Mr. Smith."

"Doctor. You know damn well the trouble I went through to get that title. And you still owe me an explanation."

"I can offer no such thing. It is simply none of your business to pry upon."

"It is completely my business. If the brightest students I've had in a decade are in danger because of your schemes-"

"I assure you, the best security forces the world has to offer are protecting them around the clock. If that can't assuage your fears, nothing will."

"Oh? So they're the best, now? That's funny, because I remember dragging them down a wild goose chase for the greater half of a decade during the 80s. Perhaps they'd be safer with me, instead of under the watch of those imbeciles working on whatever you have in store for them next."

"I don't appreciate veiled threats, Edison."

"Then here's an unveiled one. Either you get me the clearances I need to know just what the hell is going on, or we all disappear into the night without a trace and leave your little initiative to rot without them and the data they've gathered on your behalf. Simple as."

The agent stared at him with cold, almost dead eyes. Such an icy calculating gaze was typically more than enough to get his most stubborn detractors to back down.

Not this time, apparently. Edison matched it head on, staring straight back just as unblinking as he was. A shame. Perhaps a further push was necessary.

"What makes you think you'd be able to get away a second time?", Blackthorne questioned.

"What makes you think that just because you have mages on your side now," the professor countered, "That things would play out any different?"

Cold anger welled in the agent's center for an uncomfortably long time, his stare figuratively dropping to subzero temperatures before he finally responded in an flat, even tone.

"What do you want. Specifically."

Edison grinned. Prick.

"Well, for starters, you can tell me what the real reason for rushing this project actually is."

The agent pursed his lips. It would seem that this old man was once again straddling the line of usefulness.

But for now, he was still useful.

Blackthorne told him.

< -|- -|- >

"Still no sign of him?"

"No, ma'am. It would appear he won't arrive in time for the activation."

Wasn't that an understatement. Lucy sighed, a migraine already forming behind her eyes from both lack of sleep and mounting stress. Apparently, they would have to start the momentous occasion without Dr. Smith.

"...Fine. Let the news crew in, it's about time we got this show on the road anyway."

"At once, ma'am."

The aide rushed off in the direction of the main doors. She didn't even remember his name. He was only a year older than him, and yet she was held to a level of reverence he might give his own grandmother.

I really hate this job, sometimes…

"Start charging up the Cloudpiercer," she instructed Ffion. "I want us ready to go by the time the last camera starts rolling. The sooner we get results, the sooner we can get some proper rest."

Her elfin roommate nodded in earnest, eager to finally see this journey to a close.

Several tense minutes ensued as camera crews piled in. Mana flowed freely behind layer after layer of protective shielding, and enchanted machinery slowly but surely thrummed to life. As she had asked, everything clicked into place for the big moment at roughly the same time.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. From her elevated position in the control room, she looked down at what might very well be her legacy.

"Activate the Cloudpiercer," she said determinedly into the microphone.

The apparatus seared to life, channeling chiral streams of mana through the observatory roof and colliding squarely with the dense wall of fog in the distance.

"Fluctuation holding steady," Konstantin reported. "Expected time until breakthrough: T-minus 3 minutes."

"Exactly as predicted," she muttered. At least she'd gotten a few things right that helped out.

The camera crews were eating this up. Clearly, they believed that once they left this room, they'd each be set for life.

And they very might well be. She had no intention of failing now, after all.

More time ticked by in silence. Until…

"We have a pinhole," came the soothing voice of their radio operator. "Getting a weak response on a civilian radio frequency."

"Rotate apparatus by 30 degrees anticlockwise, then fire again," Konstantin ordered. "Let's triangulate that signal source."

With practiced efficiency, they poked hole after hole in the barrier as they worked to narrow down the broadcast location. Interference made it difficult to narrow down entirely, but with enough data they were able to shrink the cordon to a small area within what normally would be the Stratford borough.

"Activate the tight beams."

A switch flipped. "Tight beams activated," the operator reported. "We're starting to get a clear transmission, now."

"On speaker," Lucy directed. It was important she gave the command, apparently. Jansman had drilled that into her – when to give the order herself, and when to defer to 'subordinates', as he insisted on calling her friends.

The radio operator nodded, and before long music was coming through the speaker.

Ffion spoke out of turn as she recognized the tune.

"Isn't that… that's by Modest Mouse, isn't it?"

"I-I believe so, chief," one of the operators acquiesced.

Konstantin cut her off before the conversation went off the rails, as Ffion was prone to do. "Beginning transmission," he declared hurriedly.

A handheld mouthpiece was pulled from the radio equipment in front of him, and he began relaying the pre-written message on the sheet of paper in front of him.

"To any London residents, this is Relief Force Joint Operative Konstantin Sidorov. Please respond. Unidentified radio transmission, please respond. We are here to coordinate relief efforts."

Unsurprisingly, there was no response at first. They expected a need to repeat it a few times, but as the attempts dragged on towards a full minute, and the song nearly reached completion, they were about ready to throw in the towel.

Konstantin kept at it for one final time, though.

"Unidentified radio transmission, please respond."

…

"...Hello?"

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