Nathan seems like he walked straight out of a Metal Gear game. Should make for a fun antagonist for this arc.
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All we need now is for Anders to fight the aliens with a giant mocha.
Invisible, Part 2
3:44 PM
Angela shone a light into Stephan’s eyes.
“The general's secretary was in here organizing his desk no more than fifteen minutes before the general was shot,” Anders said, showing her the card, “He never saw this card, and he never saw anyone go in and out of the office aside from the general and Agents Kazdan and Caleca.”
“Well, from my cursory exam, nothing about the general can explain your narrative,” Angela said.
“I was on the phone with the man,” Anders said, “He was shot at close range in the forehead. I think he would have seen the shooter.”
“Not necessarily,” Angela said, “He could have turned and been surprised. There's far too little forensic evidence yet to know, Anders.”
“No scotoma?” Anders said.
“It's beyond my capabilities here to make that kind of analysis,” Angela said, “I’d need to go back to St. Eudokimos.”
“I think it's beyond all our capabilities, but somebody's got to explain how a four-star general could be shot and killed in what is both symbolically and literally the best guarded military base in the country,” Angela said.
Erich entered the room. “I need both of you out here to see something. Now.”
Angela and Anders left the room with him and returned to the metal detectors, where the security officer showed them the CCTV. The video showed Nathan passing through the detector and the officer turning to look but doing nothing.
“That’s Musser,” Anders said.
“Whoever it is, I want to know how the hell this happened,” Erich said.
“Neither of us has a clear explanation, sir,” Angela said.
“You were on your way here, Anders,” Erich said, “You knew the general was in danger.”
“I did everything I could,” Anders said, “I put two agents with him, and Agent Kazdan is one of our best—"
“This is insanity,” Erich said, “This man is killing at will. He’s like Rico Modell, except instead of mind control he’s invisible.”
“That's correct, Uncle Erich,” Anders said.
“Well, he's unstoppable, is that what you're telling me?” Erich said. “We took out Rico Modell in the end.”
“Only after Anders almost killed himself,” Angela said, “To be honest, I should’ve been in that room instead of—"
“I think that Musser has an ability, the ability to effectively erase himself from the visual field,” Anders said.
“If he's invisible, then why is he on this video, clear as day?” Erich said.
“I think he can hide himself from human sight by manipulating something that Angie has referred to as naturally occurring, a blind spot,” Anders said.
“That is conjecture, Dad,” Angela said.
“You mean even if I'm looking at him...” Erich said.
“You might not be able to see him,” Anders said, “Isn't it true that Roman soldiers have reported the unexplained appearance and disappearance of C.T. guerrillas? I've read the dispatches myself. I mean, maybe Musser was experimented on by his captors in 25 years of isolation, used as a test subject.”
Erich glanced at Angela. Angela simply rolled her eyes.
“I've got 4 miles of crowded streets where 31 military officers are staging for a parade through Mese Street and to the Siam memorial,” Erich said, “If what you're saying has any truth to it, I can't protect these men.”
“Call it off,” Angela said.
“Parade or no parade, those men are vulnerable,” Erich said, “The only way to stop this killer is to catch him.”
“How do we do that?” Anders said.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Angela said. “Even if he’s an invisible killer, he’s still a killer. We can catch him by finding his next victim before he does.”
Army detention center, Fort Theodosius, Eastern Thrace – 4:08 PM
Mihailo, followed by another officer and a security officer, walked down a hallway. The other officer opened the door for Mihailo and left him alone in an interrogation room with David Marsden.
“I’m Megas Domestikos Mihailo Princip,” he said.
“He did it again, didn't he?” Marsden said. “I told him he would.”
“According to the Athanatoi, you know the man they're looking for,” Mihailo said, “Maybe you can tell me why they can't seem to find him.”
“The same reason you can't,” Marsden said, “Which I imagine is the same reason you're here right now instead of the average general.”
“I am here because people are dying, soldiers who dedicated their lives to the defense of this country,” Mihailo said.
“I guess that's one way of looking at it,” Marsden said.
“As it stands, you are facing charges of conspiracy to commit homicide and treason,” Mihailo said, “But if both those fall through, there is still enough evidence to convict you for possession and transport of illegal arms, if not leadership of a terrorist organization.”
“Are you threatening me?” Marsden said.
“No,” Mihailo said, “I am offering you a deal ... for you and the people you represent.”
“If you think I've got any sway with Musser, you're mistaken,” Marsden said.
“I just need to know what he wants,” Mihailo said.
“You know what he wants,” Marsden said, “And we both know you can't give it to him. Not without dragging that nice, clean uniform of yours through the mud.”
Mihailo grabbed Marsden by his collar and slammed him against the wall. Marsden simply grinned calmly.
“You’re pretty strong, for an old man,” Marsden said, “Whatever you do to me won't change his mind, General. He's sending a message and making damn sure everyone hears it loud and clear.”
Mihailo let go of him and stormed out.
Hagia Sophia
Anders stood in front of the ancient cathedral, looking at the statue of Saint Gunhilda. Irene Doukas appeared from around a corner and approached him.
“You told me you were in a rush,” she said.
“Cross-town traffic's all snarled up because of the parade,” Anders said.
“You need information on Roman prisoners of war?” Irene said.
“A man named Nathan Musser,” Anders said.
“I have no information on him,” Irene said.
“Then why did you come here?” Anders said.
“Tell me what you know,” Irene said.
“A POW by his name may be back home carrying out death sentences against the men that left him in Siam,” Anders said.
“Who are those men?” Irene said.
“Generals, Stephan and Yanatos,” Anders said.
“They have a connection,” Irene said.
“What is that?” Anders said.
“A recent news story, extremely embarrassing to the Roman military, about the disposing of Siamese soldiers,” Irene said.
“Men employed by our government as spies and commandos and then left behind enemy lines to certain capture and death,” Anders said, “The operation was disavowed and their lives were erased from the records.”
“By a secret three-man commission who may now be facing charges,” Irene said, “Whose testimonies might be used in the calculation of reparations.”
“Are you saying that our government wants these officers dead?” Anders said. “Why would they ask us to protect them?”
Irene got up and walked away. “Because they know you can't.”
“Well, who's the third man?” Anders said. “I need a name.”
“You know the name of the Megas Domestikos,” Irene said.
Mese Street
Nathan stood beside the street, watching the marching band pass by. Behind the band, a procession of tanks and military vehicles rolled down the street. Erich and Angela ran counter to the parade, heading towards Mihailo’s car.
“Megas Domestikos, sir, stop the car!” Erich said.
“What’s going on here?” Mihailo said.
“We need you to get out of the car, sir, for your own safety,” Angela said.
“Why?” Mihailo said.
“We just received information your life might be in danger,” Erich said.
“From who?” Mihailo said.
Angela scanned the crowd and spotted Nathan.
“Shooter!” she cried. “Get down!”
She ran towards Nathan, drawing her weapon. People in the crowd ducked and scrambled, but Angela lost sight of Nathan.
“Where?” Erich said. “Where is he?”
“He was there!” Angela said. “I saw him, I ... It was him, Dad! It was the man in the photo!”
She lowered her weapon and walked a few steps forward, a little disappointed.
“Are you sure?” Erich said.
“He was right there,” Angela said.
Siam Veterans War Memorial – 5:05 PM
An honor guard carried military flags and the Hohenzollern coats of arms onto the stage, with a large Roman flag hung behind them. A crowd began gathering in front of the stage. Erich was on the phone in a nearby tent. Anders entered the tent and approached Angela.
“Let me know as soon as you can, thanks,” Erich said, hanging up.
“Angie, I heard what happened,” he said, “They told me you saved the Megas Domestikos’ life.”
“He's doing fine,” Angela said, pointing to Mihailo on the phone, “He's over there.”
“They told me you saw somebody on the parade route,” Anders said.
“I’m sure it was him,” Angela said, “Why couldn’t I get him? He was right there.”
“Are you sure?” Anders said.
“I’m sure,” Angela said, “I know what I saw. I always do. And how are you so convinced that the Megas Domestikos is his next target?”
“I found out about General Mihailo Princip from the same person who told me that we were never meant to save his life ... or the other generals,” Anders said.
“What are you talking about?” Erich said. “The Megas Domestikos is a war hero, the Reich’s most decorated military leader since Hugo Doukas and Erich Ludendorff. He served in the second world war and commanded troops in the third. Why would they kill a national hero?”
“This case, why do you think it was dumped in your lap, unless heading up an anti-terrorism detail is all of a sudden part of your job description?” Anders said.
“Well, that doesn't prove that he was set up,” Angela said, “Whoever would think they’d gain from this would just be committing political suicide.”
“Well, they knew about Musser,” Anders said, “They'd known that he'd be unstoppable, almost Pusher-level, from the beginning.”
“You're saying they wanted Dad to fail?” Angela said.
“And us,” Anders said, “Given the nature of the case, they knew your dad would bring us in, and when this fails, they’ll blame it on us and take out the X-Division in one fell swoop.”
“Anders, the government is not about to sacrifice the lives of ranking military officers just to discredit us,” Angela said, “Especially one as decorated as Mihailo Princip.”
“Discrediting us in this case is only secondary,” Anders said.
“Secondary to what?” Angela said.
“To maintaining their secret policy of denial about POW's, which required silencing the men who made that policy,” Anders said.
“I think David Marsden’s story is having its intended effect,” Angela said, “I think you're buying into the lie, Anders.”
“No, no, he may be the only man in this case who's telling the truth,” Anders said, “But if you don't believe me, why don't you ask General Princip himself.”
He pointed at Mihailo.
“Ask me what?” he said, getting his hat. “Look, I can't wait around here any longer. I'm delivering the keynote address in five minutes.”
“You might want to reconsider,” Anders said.
“He won't reconsider,” Erich said, “Not going out there would be an admission of guilt.”
“We still have reason to believe that your life is in danger,” Angela said.
“It's your job to protect me still, isn't it?” Mihailo asked Erich.
“That's what we're trying to do,” Erich said.
“You served in ‘am, Director,” Mihailo said, “So you know what I’m saying when I ask you to do your job.”
He left the tent. Erich motioned to Louise, Raum, Caleca, and the other agents around him.
“Alright, people, listen up because we don't have much time here,” he said, “You all know your responsibilities. You have your sectors and your assignments. Let’s get to it.”
The agents dispersed. As Angela and Anders headed for the door, Louise caught up with them.
“So, we’re hunting down an invisible assassin,” she said, “And to think I once thought Daniel Burkard was the craziest thing I’d see.”
“Good thing you weren’t assigned to the Rico Modell case,” Angela said.
“Or the one where it rained frogs,” Anders said.
“Or the one with the other Siam veteran who could kill people through hallucinations,” Angela said, “Something like that.”
“And don’t forget Sentinel,” Anders said.
“How do you guys keep your sanity?” Louise said.
“Anders didn't, and I’m dying,” Angela said, nonchalantly, “I don’t care anymore.”
She patted Louise on the shoulder and smiled. “But if you do see our invisible assassin, just shoot him, okay? He might be invisible, but he can still die.”
Louise nodded and smiled back. “Of course. Happy hunting.”
They left the tent and split up. The ceremony was now beginning, with large crowds on the ground and in bleachers in front of the podium. Nathan was at the base of the bleachers and started out into the crowd in between them. A man in the lower rows of the bleachers, Leo Danziger, recognized him.
“It's a great pleasure to introduce a very special man, wounded and decorated for gallantry in Siam, he had an idea...” the announcer began.
“Musser?” Leo said, following Nathan.
“... a vision, to create a national memorial inscribed with ...” the announcer continued.
“Hey man, is that you?” Leo said, pushing his way through the crowd.
“... the names of all Romans who gave their lives in both Siam Wars…” the announcer said.
“Hey, where are you going?” Leo said.
“... Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said, “It is with great pride that I introduce the founder of the Siam Veteran Memorial Fund, Herr Jan Scruggs.”
Nathan walked behind a fence, behind the crowd. Leo followed moments later, but he didn’t see anybody in the darkened area. Meanwhile, Jan took the stage and waved to the crowd.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, ‘We are here to rededicate this memorial on this important day. We especially respectfully remember those who cannot share this day with us, the soldiers, the airmen and women, and the sailors who remain missing in action from the Reich’s longest war. We are gathered here to remember times of war, yet pray for times of peace…”
“Hey, Musser?” Leo said, walking along the fence “It’s me, Leo Danziger. I saw you, man. Where are you?”
“Right behind you,” Nathan said.
Leo turned to find Nathan standing behind him.
“I, I thought you were dead,” Leo said, “That's what they told us.”
“Because that's what they wanted you to believe,” Nathan said.
“I don't understand,” Leo said.
“You will ... after tonight,” Nathan said.
“What are you talking about?” Leo said.
“I waited for them, Leo,” Nathan said, “I waited for them to come. But they never came.”
“Maybe they didn't know,” Leo said.
“They knew,” Nathan said, “They just figured letting me die off was easier than admitting the truth.”
“It's all over, Musser,” Leo said, “It's been over for a long time now.”
“Not for me,” Nathan said, “Not for the others.”
“You're telling me there's more?” Leo said.
Nathan handed him a piece of paper. It had several dozen names on it, along with their military ID numbers. Leo looked up, but Nathan was gone.
“It is a distinct honor to present to you now another great Roman, a brother in arms, and a true national hero,” the announcer said, “Megas Domestikos Mihailo Princip.”
Mihailo stepped up to the podium, finding an ace of clubs on the stand. It was another of Nathan’s death cards. He looked at the crowd and then at Erich, who was seated behind him and to his right. But he started to speak.
“Admiral Cordemann,” he said, “Senators Makarios and Sorenson. Fellow Romans. And especially, the veterans. “That many of you here tonight came home not to a hero's welcome but to the hostility of the Roman people is a shameful fact of history,” Mihailo said, to many cheers, “One that I will never understand or forgive. But it also underscores our sacred duty, not just today but forever, to honor those who served with honor and to remember those who fell, men and women whose ultimate sacrifice must never be forgotten. There is probably no audience that understands better that our freedom is not free. We owe that freedom to the selfless sacrifice of those men and women who laid down their lives in battlefields from Gibraltar to Siam to the Balkans. It is our duty to remember them every day. This country survived the centuries on the backs of people willing to defend their freedoms with their lives, and for that, I think it would be an investment that they would be proud of today. There is a statue of a soldier, and the plaque on that statue reads ‘not for themselves but for their country’. That attitude has persevered as the spirit of Roman soldiers, and it is in this spirit that we honor our countrymen. This memorial is a place where we can come and thank those men and women who died not for themselves but for their country. I'm always struck by something as I walk this park. The Siam Memorial always has someone standing at it, always someone running their fingers across the names. There's a tremendous amount of emotion in that simple act.”
Erich sat on stage next to Mihailo and held up his walkie-talkie.
“Alright, you're my eyes out there,” he said, “Talk to me. Positions report. Agent Kazdan?”
“Sector three clear,” Louise said.
“No sign of him in four,” Angela said.
“Sector six, report,” Erich said, “Anders?”
“He's here,” Anders said, “I feel him.”
“Then where is he?” Erich said.
Angela saw Nathan walking forwards through the crowd.
“Hold on, I think I have him in section four,” she said.
“Can you confirm that, Angie?” Erich said.
Angela looked at a photo of Nathan with long hair. Nathan had short hair here, but it was him.
“Positive ID,” she said, “He's heading toward you, three.”
“Positions hold,” Erich said, “Three and four, do you have eye contact?”
“I have him in three,” Louise said, “He's coming to you, Hansen.”
“Don't take your eyes off him, Angie,” Anders said.
Angela followed Nathan, but he stopped and looked at her. He then continued forward.
“Frak, he saw me,” she said, “He's heading towards the sound booth.”
“Copy that,” Louise said, “I'm cutting him off.”
“Talk to me, people,” Erich said, “Does anybody have him? What's happening, Angie?”
“I'm closing on him,” Angela said.
“Do you have him in three?” Erich said.
“Negative,” Louise said.
“Angie?” Erich said.
Angela looked around, but Nathan was gone.
“Damn it, I lost him,” she said, “You got him, Louise?”
“I don't see him, Hansen?” Louise said.
“What's happening, Angie?” Erich said.
Angela and Louise met in the middle of the crowd.
“I can't see him anywhere,” Louise said.
“He must be headed your way,” Angela said, “You got him, Anders?”
Anders stood at the front, between Mihailo and the crowd.
“Not yet,” Anders said.
He noticed Nathan approaching. Then he disappeared.
“I got him—no wait, I lost him!” Anders said.
Erich saw Nathan approaching the platform.
“Pick him up, Anders, he’s right in front of you,” he said.
Anders glimpsed Nathan drawing a gun and drew his own gun.
“He’s got a gun!” Anders shouted.
Erich tackled Mihailo, pushing him away from the podium, while people in the crowd ducked.
“General, get off the stage!” Erich shouted.
Anders aimed his gun at Nathan, but Nathan disappeared right in front of his eyes. He waved his gun around the crowd, trying to see where he went.
“I can’t see him!” he shouted.
Louise ran up to Anders. “Humboldt…”
“Musser’s here,” Anders said, “I saw him out of the corner of my eye.”
“Humboldt, he’s gone,” Louise said, “He’s gone.
“There's no cause for alarm, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said, “Just a minor disturbance. Let's try and keep some order.”
“Where's the Megas Domestikos?” Anders said.
“He's with the Hansens,” Louise said.
“We've got to stop him,” Anders said.
They ran in the direction Erich and Mihailo went.
“What's going on here, Humboldt?” Louise said.
“I think I figured it out, Agent Kazdan,” Anders said, “He’s not fully invisible. He can only hide himself in somebody's direct line of sight.”
“When you're looking directly at him?” Louise said.
“That's why he killed General Yanatos and Stephan at close quarters, in the car and office,” Anders said.
They walked around a fence and saw Erich, Angela, and Mihailo ahead of them, walking towards a car. Anders drew his gun.
“General, get away from the car!” Anders shouted. “He’s in the car!”
Erich, Angela, and Mihailo stopped. As Erich looked towards the car, a shot fired from inside. Angela pushed Mihailo down, while Erich drew his gun.
“Get down!” Louise shouted, drawing her gun. “Down!”
Five more shots were fired as everybody ducked for cover. Erich slowly approached the car, Angela, Anders, and Louise behind him.
“Get out of the car with your hands in the air!” Erich shouted. “It's over, Musser. Come on out!”
Anders moved around to the front of the car. The engine started. Anders pointed his gun at the windshield but was forced to jump aside as the car lurched forward. The car went after Louise and Angela, who each fired four shots at the windshield. As the car approached, Louise jumped out of its path, but Angela didn’t. She got off two more shots before the car slammed into her, and she went flying over the windshield. The car crashed into a barrier, knocking the driver’s door open. Angela got to her feet and limped over to the driver’s seat, her gun aimed inside. Nathan fell out.
“Get an ambulance over here!” she shouted, just before she collapsed.
Louise ran over to her and checked her injuries, while Anders and Erich went to Nathan, who had blood coming from his mouth.
“Musser, Nathaniel J. Sergeant, Scholai Palatinae detachment B-11,” he whispered, “Service number 82278. Date of birth: March 7, 1952. Musser, Nathaniel J. Sergeant, Scholai Palatinae detachment B-11. Service Number 82278. Date of birth: March 7, 1952 ...”
10:00 PM
Erich stands at the wall of the memorial as Anders walked up to him.
“Angie’s going to be fine,” Anders said, “A few bruises here and there and she’s a little disappointed in what happened, but nothing big.”
“What about Nathan Musser?” Erich said.
“The Pentagon is claiming that the man who was killed was a Thomas Lieblich,” Anders said, “He's a vet who's been in and out of VA psychiatric hospitals for the last 15 years.”
“And a sometime member of the Left Hand,” Erich said, “His name was on David Marsden’s mailing list. Marsdem made a positive ID.”
“They must have gotten to him,” Anders said.
“Army forensics claims to have multiple confirmation, backed up by an independent RSB examination,” Erich said.
“You heard him!” Anders said. “We all did! It's happening all over again. They're covering the lies with more lies, trying to make him invisible. We've got to subpoena Marsden, and we've got to petition the Foreign Bureau to release Musser’s body ...”
“Anders, I can't do that,” Erich said, “This investigation has been turned over to the Bureau of Defense. It's no longer our jurisdiction.”
“Don't let them do this,” Anders said.
“They already did,” Erich said, “There’s nothing we can do. Let it go, Anders. You did your job.”
“So did Nathan Musser,” Anders said.
“You found the man you were looking for, but now he's dead,” Erich said, “That was the scope of our investigation, and we fulfilled it. It's over.”
“Is that what you believe?” Anders said. “Is that what you really believe? They're not just denying this man's life, they're denying his death. And with all due respect, Uncle Erich ... he could be you.”
“He was me,” Erich said, “He was my friend Martin too. And I don’t believe it, okay, but what’s the frakking point? The investigation’s still been transferred to the Bureau of Defense, and we can’t do anything more. End of story. You know, perhaps it’s for the best. They’ve already sacrificed enough for their country. Just let them rest in peace.”
Anders walked away, and Erich turned back to the wall, looking at the name "Nathaniel Musser." His eyes slowly wandered down to the name below: “Martin Georgios.”
“I’m sorry, Martin,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
Just a heads up, Zen, if the European Parliament passes the copyright directive they're looking to get passed, it'll mean that there will most likely be a filter system set up for copyrighted material, which would include the X-Files, which is what the vast majority of this storyline is based on. You might want to stop using the X-Files if the directive is passed.
For now, however, you don't have to do anything. The same applies if the directive fails to get passed. I'm sorry if I caused any trouble or harm by saying this, it's just to warn you about the EU's copyright directive.
For now, however, you don't have to do anything. The same applies if the directive fails to get passed. I'm sorry if I caused any trouble or harm by saying this, it's just to warn you about the EU's copyright directive.
Thanks for letting me know. I'll keep that in mind and watch that closely.
Yet another bittersweet resolution. The case is wrapped up and the bad guy dealt with, but with a distinct lack of justice or the sense of conclusion.
Because the idiots at the RSB can't let that happen, can it?
Flight 549, Part 1
In the skies outside Stuttgart – August 5, 1996, 7:52 PM
A stewardess brought Harold Rebhun a drink.
“Here you are, Herr Rebhun, another Bavarian beer and soda,” she said.
“It's the only way to fly,” Harold said, chuckling.
The stewardess laughed back and walked away. Harold turned to his seatmate.
“Used to be just like you,” he said, “Used to hate flying. I mean, the moment I got on the plane, I'd be gripping those armrests like my teeth were being drilled. Truth is, statistically, you can fly every day for the next 26,000 years before you'd have an accident.”
Max Fenig stared at him, cringing at the mention of teeth being drilled. He then ducked down in his seat, avoiding eye contact.
“Hey, you okay?” Harold said.
Max was terrified, actually. He looked nervously at a dark-clothed man a few seats behind, who glanced at him. He looked straight ahead, feeling the radiation burns on the left side of his face. He clutched his bag tighter. The dark-clothed man unbuckled his seatbelt and went to the bathroom in the middle of the plane, glancing at Max as he walked. Half a minute after the man entered the bathroom, the plane shook as if hit by something. Everybody started screaming. The plane shook again.
The dark-clothed man stepped out of the bathroom, watching people being tossed around. The lights went out, but the plane was illuminated by bright white lights coming through the windows. More people screamed. The plane continued shaking violently, the light steadily growing brighter. The door next to Max shook rapidly before it was torn clean off. Max turned around in terror.
Arcadia Bar and Restaurant, Constantinople – 10:00 PM
Anders, Angela, and Demetrios sat at a table, some half-finished food and drinks placed in front of them. Anders chewed on a straw while Angela listened to Demetrios drone on and on.
“So, you remember the Olympics in the Choctaw Republic?” Demetrios said. “Total disaster? Don’t know how the IOC trusted the Choctaws with the games, all they can do is blow stuff up. So, my team and I went with the Red Cross in case Scheiße hit the fan, which, of course, it did. Somebody’s fighter jet fired two missiles at the Olympic Village in the Delta. Don’t know who, Cherokee, Nahua, Muskogean, Tejan, Osage, doesn’t matter. What mattered was we at the Red Cross were just swamped with victims. Burns, shrapnel, broken bones, shock, it was literally a warzone in there, it made Cordoba look like a game of rock-papers-scissors. Look, Angela, I know you don’t like warzones, especially in hospitals like—”
“I usually don’t,” Angela said, “But things haven’t been usual lately. Like today.”
“Right, with, um, that, yeah,” Demetrios said.
“Anyways, I had this one victim who by all accounts should’ve been dead,” Demetrios said, “Barely any brain activity, I was the only doctor to find his pulse, it was that bad, almost his entire body had been burned and riddled with shrapnel, his legs had been crushed by a heavy metal bar…”
“Yeah, we get the picture,” Anders said, biting his straw in half.
“So we brought him into the ER and everything bad that could possibly happen did,” Demetrios said, “But my team and I were ready. In the end—”
A waiter walked over to them, carrying some strawberry ice cream with a candle, singing. The other waiters and waitresses joined in.
“Happy birthday to you...” they sang. “Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday dear Angela...”
Angela glared at Anders and rolled her eyes. Anders sighed.
“Special Agent Angela Alexandra Hansen...” he said.
“Happy birthday to you!” the waiters said, putting down the ice cream.
They clapped, as did everybody else in the restaurant, and walked away.
“I didn't know it was your birthday, Angie,” Anders said, still clapping after everybody else had long stopped.
“It’s not,” Angela said, “My birthday was February 23.”
“Then what the frak are we doing here?” Anders said.
“We’ve been too busy since then chasing aliens or Sentinel or whatever,” Angela said, “And you have never remembered my birthday in the last four years.”
“That's the way I like to celebrate them,” Anders said, “It's every four years, it's like dog years that way.”
“Wait, dog years?” Demetrios said.
Angela blew out the candle and then punched Anders in the arm.
“Ow!” Anders said. “You’re welcome! Anyways, I got something for you.”
He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a small white box wrapped in gold ribbon.
“Roll tide,” Demetrios joked.
“Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” Angela said.
“It's just something that reminded me of you,” Anders said.
“What, an alien implant?” Angela said.
“Two, actually,” Anders said, “I made them into earrings.”
Angela punched him in the arm again.
“Alright, what the frak?” Demetrios said.
“Long story, Demetrios,” Anders said, “I’ll tell you next time we hit the bar.”
Angela rolled her eyes and opened it. It contained a gold commemorative keychain.
“It’s nice,” she said.
“Read the back,” Anders said.
"‘Commemorating Artemis 11 and the mission to the moon, January 1969’," she read.
Anders smiled widely. Sighing to himself, Demetrios reached into his pocket and took out a similar box.
“Yeah, it’s nice and all to have a souvenir of Nelson Koenig’s mission,” he said, “But I think I have another—"
Before he could finish, a woman walked over to them.
“Excuse me, are you Hansen?” she asked. “And Humboldt?”
“Damn it,” Demetrios said.
Angela glared at Anders again.
“Oh, promise me this isn't leading to something really embarrassing,” Angela said.
“Hey, it was your idea,” Anders said.
The woman sat down.
“My name is Sharon Graffia,” she said, “I'm sorry to approach you like this, but I followed you. I was asked to find you if something happened.”
“Um, this may sound blunt, but what?!” Angela said.
“You have no good reason to believe me, but my brother, who I believe you know, he said you'd understand what to do,” Sharon said.
“About what?” Anders said.
“If he didn't make it,” Sharon said.
“Excuse me, who are you talking about?” Angela said.
“Max,” Sharon said, “Max Fenig.”
Anders and Angela looked at each other, wide-eyed, while Demetrios hastily put away his gift.
“Uh, is that name supposed to mean anything?” he said.
“He was on his way here to deliver something that made him fear for his life, something he said the government would kill for,” Sharon said, “But his plane, it went down two hours ago.”
Ludwigsburg, outside Stuttgart – August 6, 1996, 4:02 AM
Mike Millar, head of the ITSB recovery team, paced in front of his team of workers.
“Alright,” he said, “What we know right now is that the Lufthansa plane designated as Flight 549 lost radio contact tonight at about 8:00 PM yesterday evening and subsequently crashed into a wooded area approximately thirty miles from Stuttgart.”
Angela, Anders, and Demetrios walked in at the back of the room.
“Local law enforcement and E.M.T.s have been on the scene for just under two hours, but initial reports are they've found no survivors yet of the 134 passengers and crew listed on the manifest,” Mike said, “I wish we could tell you more information about the crash site, but, uh, darkness and terrain are going to make it pretty slow going in the morning.”
Seated at the table was a mustached man whose nametag identified him as Sebastian Gerhard. Sebastian glanced at the agents and Demetrios.
“We have a tape of the last radio exchange before 549 went down, which we're going to play, but I want to stress the need to keep everything you know or learn within the Go-team so that all the information to the press is controlled in a timely and orderly fashion, so as to not create panic,” Mike said, “You keyed-up, Johan?”
“Ready.” Johan pressed play on a tape player.
“Copy, Tower, please advise,” the pilot said, “Do you see a need to adjust?”
“Negative, 549,” the controller said, “Steady airspeed of two-niner-six knots. Maintain heading one-zero-zero and two-niner thousand feet. Go ahead, 549.”
There was a beeping noise.
“What the hell is this?” the pilot said.
“549, do you read?” the controller said.
The beeping continued.
“We've got something... on intercept,” the pilot said, “Oh my God! My God! Mayday! Mayday, mayday!”
The voices disappeared into static. Mike pressed stop.
“And that's all they got,” Mike said, “The controllers tried to raise 549 on all available frequencies, but the pilots did not respond. Okay, we've got an ILV charter leaving in one hour.”
Everybody started packing up. Anders took a few steps forward.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said, “I'm Special Agent Humboldt with the Athanatoi.”
Everybody stopped and looked at him. Sebastian looked worried.
“Is there any indication or suspicion that Flight 549 may have been forced down?” Anders asked.
“Forced down?” Mike said.
"Uh, you can clearly hear the pilot say ‘intercept’ on the recording," Anders said.
“We have absolutely no data to support that, and no confirmation of other aircraft in the area,” Mike said, “Unless you have something.”
“No, no, but there was a passenger on that plane who was, uh, well-known to our government as an alien abductee,” Anders said.
Various workers started chuckling amongst themselves. Angela rolled her eyes and groaned.
“Is he always like this?” Demetrios said.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Angela said.
“An alien abductee,” Mike repeated.
“Yeah, a man named Max Fenig, a multiple abduction victim, what's known as a repeater,” Anders said.
The laughing intensified.
“Hold on a second,” Mike said, “Please, please, can I have some quiet?”
The room quieted down.
“He'd predicted the accident, and I have proof,” Anders said, “And from the sound of the tape, the plane may have been forced down.”
“Forced down by who?” Mike said. “Or what?”
“I'm hesitant to speculate,” Anders said.
“Agent Humboldt, let me tell you something,” Mike said, “I've been doing this for eighteen years, the war years included. I thought I heard everything. I'm looking through the manifest here, and there was no one named Max Fenig on Flight 549.
“Fenig, and there may be people who want to cover up this evidence,” Anders said.
“Are you frakking kidding me?” Angela muttered, taking out her Walkman.
“Agent Humboldt, is this an official Athanatoi position?” Mike said.
“It is a theory,” Anders said, “Minus the aliens, of course.”
“Because what you're suggesting trivializes this tragedy,” Mike said, “And casts these fine people and the work they have to do in a light that I think you would be well-advised to avoid.
“My apologies if that is the case, sir, but I think we all share the same goal here, and that's to find out what caused that plane to crash,” Anders said.
“And if any of the capable men and women find... Herr Spock's phaser or Luke Skywalker’s missing hand or some green alien goo, we'll be sure to give you all the credit,” Mike said.
Angela unexpectedly burst into laughter, setting off a wave of laughs throughout the crowd. Demetrios was the only one not laughing. He looked around awkwardly.
“Alright, let’s get moving,” Mike said.
Everybody dispersed. Anders rejoined Angela and Demetrios.
“You sure know how to make a girl feel special on her not-birthday,” Angela said.
“Di begs to differ,” Anders said.
“About the alien goo or Spock’s phaser or Darth Vader’s helmet, was there a reference I missed?” Demetrios said.
“Long story,” Angela said, “Say, why don’t you go back to the hotel, catch some sleep? They said there were no survivors.”
“It’s okay,” Demetrios said, “Never felt more awake. I might still be useful, you know. They still need to figure out how each passenger died, right?”
“True,” Anders said, “But the clearance we provided—”
“I’m a doctor,” Demetrios said, “They’ll understand why I’m here.”
Flight 549 crash site, Ludwigsburg – 5:52 AM
A helicopter flew over the wreckage of what was once Flight 549. Black smoke still rose from the crushed parts. Yellow body-bags were lined up in a row off towards the road. Debris was strewn in a path stretching back very far. Men in hazmat suits walked around in the wreckage. The ground itself had been scorched black. There was a gaping hole in the ground, filled with rain water. The tail section had broken off, barely recognizable yet intact, still bearing the logo of Lufthansa, the Hanseatic League’s cherished airliner. The ITSB workers took every precaution, wearing protective suits and oxygen masks. A few dug out more bodies from the wreckage. Angela looks out upon the scene in horror, leaning on Demetrios for support. Anders stood next to them.
“You ever seen anything like this?” Demetrios said.
“Not since the war,” Angela said, “Thought you had your share of disasters.”
“Couple planes went down in the Japanese Civil War,” Demetrios said, “The Red Cross sent me and my team to Edo. But those were military transports or jets, most of the time. Never a commercial airliner.”
“Where's the plane?” Anders said, walking towards the debris field.
“They think it hit the ground at over 300 miles an hour on an almost vertical descent,” Angela said, “Meteorological data is being collected and analyzed and so far they are attributing the cause to... a weather phenomenon... of a rapid depressurization caused by a lightning strike or by something called a wind rotor coming off the Swabian Alps.”
“But not to Max Fenig,” Anders said.
“Anders, even if he was on this flight, looking at this, he'd be in a hundred pieces,” Demetrios said, “I mean, they're going to be lucky if they can I.D. half the bodies they find here. I certainly wouldn’t be able to do it.”
“No, he was on this flight, guys, I'm sure of that,” Anders said.
“Well, say we do find him,” Angela said, “What's that going to prove?”
“I don't know,” Anders said, “But maybe that one man's life was worth sacrificing 133 others.”
“Who could possibly be that important?” Demetrios said.
They stopped and looked over the wreckage. Elsewhere, Sebastian uncovered the body of the dark-clothed man in the wreckage and knelt over it. He took the gun out of the man’s pocket and put it in his own and then sprayed a substance on his fingertips, erasing his fingerprints. Meanwhile, Angela, Anders, and Demetrios walked through some of the water when Demetrios spotted something. He walked over to a hand and forearm buried in the mud.
“Guys, I found something,” he said.
Angela and Anders walked over.
“Is that a hand?” Anders said.
“Uh, yeah,” Demetrios said.
“And is that a watch?” Anders said.
“Yeah?” Demetrios said.
“What time does it read?” Anders said.
“8:01,” Demetrios said.
“They listed 7:52 as the time of the crash,” Angela said, “A nine minute difference.”
“Nine minutes, Angie,” Anders said, “Do you remember the last time we missed nine minutes?”
“Normandy?” Angela said.
“What do nine minutes and a Länder have to do with a plane crash?” Demetrios said.
Angela sighed.
“Anders, no one even reported the plane on radar,” she said, “These guys are just going off of estimates until they can recover the data recorder.”
“Yeah, something just occurred to me,” Anders said, “ I don't think we're going to find Max Fenig after all.”
“Wait, just a few minutes ago, you were absolutely certain he was on this flight,” Demetrios said.
“Yeah, but I'm beginning to doubt whether he finished this flight with the rest of the passengers,” Anders said.
“Are you saying he was abducted?” Demetrios said. “Have I been drinking too much?”
“Hey!” a man shouted. “Get me a medic over here!”
They looked over to see a worker leaning over a man in the wreckage. The man blinked. It was Harold Rebhun.
“This man's alive!” the worker shouted. “This man's alive! Get me a medic over here!”
Anders, Angela, and Demetrios ran over. Angela and Demetrios knelt beside the man. Angela found a weak pulse, and his breathing was raspy, but he was alive.
“We need an airlift to a burn unit as soon as possible!” Angela said.
“This man needs oxygen and a saline IV!” Demetrios added.
“Sir?” Angela said to Harold. “Can you hear me? Sir?”
Ludwigsburg County Airport – 7:12 AM
Angela waited in the cold as a small airplane stopped in front of her. Sharon got out and walked over to Angela.
“I got what you asked for,” she said, gesturing to the bags being unloaded from the plane.
“All of those are from Max?” Angela said.
“Every letter he ever wrote me,” Sharon said, “You said to bring everything I had, I'm still not sure why.”
“Sharon, we believe that there are things that you haven't told us,” Angela said, “We need to know everything that you know.”
“About what?” Sharon said.
“About Max,” Angela said, “About where he's been, about where he's traveled, about exactly what it was he was carrying on that flight.”
“Did you find Max?” Sharon said.
“No, but we found a passenger with severe burns, severe cellular damage,” Angela said, “Burns that we wouldn't see unless the victim was exposed to a high level of radiation.”
“Something Max was carrying?” Sharon said.
“We need to know what that was, Sharon,” Angela said, “If you're withholding any information, there could be severe consequences.”
“I’m aware of that,” Sharon said.
ITSB hangar – 7:42 AM
Angela walked towards Anders, who waved a Geiger counter over parts of the wreckage.
“The man's name was Harold Rebhun,” she said.
“The manifest has him listed in seat 13-D, which is the aisle seat right here,” Anders said, pointing to a crumpled seat, “My guess is that Max Fenig was in 13-F, window seat. But the manifest has the passenger listed as a...”
“Paul Gennadios,” Angela said, “It's an alias that Max Fenig used in his letters when he went underground. He had many aliases, in fact, one of which he used to get a job at the Alpine Environment Energy Site in Helvetia where they handle and store Uranium 235 and weapons grade plutonium.”
“You think Max was carrying plutonium?” Anders said.
“Anders, the burns on that passenger's face were deep tissue radiation burns,” Angela said, “I don't know how else he might have gotten them.”
They continued walking, Anders still waving the Geiger counter around.
“What would Max be doing with that?” Anders said.
“I don't know,” Angela said, “I mean, he, he wrote hundreds, maybe even a thousand letters describing his abduction experiences, but beginning in June, he started making vague references to a theft. Now, it seems to me from reading it that he'd started to get the idea that he'd come onto something that was very dangerous.”
“So... what caused this crash?” Anders said.
“If he was carrying fissile plutonium, Anders, and it became exposed in the cabin, it very conceivably could have caused the crash,” Angela said.
“You want to know what I think, Angie?” Anders said.
They stopped at the cabin door. The Geiger counter went wild.
“I'm going to tell you,” Anders said, “I think Max was abducted. Sucked right out of this door at 29,000 feet. The burns we're seeing are a result of that abduction.”
“Anders...” Angela said.
“And all the evidence will point to this conclusion but it will be dismissed because of its improbability, it's unthinkability,” Anders said, “The crash of Flight 549 will go unsolved unless we find a way to prove it. And when Max is returned, he's going to tell us exactly the same story unless someone gets to him first.”
“Anders, Max was returned already,” Angela said, “I found out a few minutes ago. They found his body a short way from the wreckage earlier today.”
“What?” Anders said. “You're positive of this?”
“Traveling under the name of Paul Gennadios, seat 13-F, with the same burns as his seat mate,” Angela said.
“No, there's still no explanation for this crash,” Anders said.
He walked away.
Paradise Motel, Ludwigsburg, outside Stuttgart – 8:16 AM
Sharon looked through the letters. Suddenly, a loud rumbling started, and the room shook. She gasped in terror. A bright light shone through the windows, which exploded. Sharon started sobbing uncontrollably as the light intensified.
ITSB hanger
The floor of the room was covered in yellow body-bags, all lined up in rows neatly. Anders stopped at the body-bag with the tag “Gennadios, Paul – Partial, Flight 549.” He unzipped the bag and looked at Max’s face. Anders heard a sobbing and looked up to see a man, woman, and child checking a body as well, led by an investigator. Anders looked down at Max sadly and reached into Max’s front shirt pocket. He took out the business card he gave to Max three years ago in Heppenheim, stained in blood, and put it in his pocket. Then he noticed something. He looked at the next body-bag in the row. The same thing. He checked the next one.
Elsewhere, Mike and his team walked with Angela and Demetrios. Anders joined them.
“Did you make a positive I.D. on Max Fenig?” Angela said.
Anders nodded.
“Well, they've located the cockpit voice recorder and the flight data recorder,” Demetrios said.
“And?” Anders said.
“And the ITSB is making a statement to the press, saying that there was a complete systems malfunction on the plane,” Angela said.
“In other words, there's still no explanation for what brought this plane down,” Anders said.
“No, not yet, but they are taking a careful look at the emergency exit door, and while they cannot explain the radiation readings, they are not ready to attribute it as the direct cause,” Angela said.
“They're not able to, or they're not willing to?” Anders said.
“Okay, why can't you just accept the facts?” Demetrios said.
Anders led them away from the others.
“Because there are no facts,” Anders said, “What they're telling you, what they're going to report, they're the opposite of the facts. A claim to ignorance of the facts. Claimed steadfastly, ignorance becomes as acceptable as the truth.”
“What would you like them to report?” Demetrios said.
“That there is not one wristwatch on any of those bagged bodies,” Anders said, “All of the wristwatches have been stolen.”
“Are you accusing these men of covering evidence?” Angela said.
“These men, no,” Anders said, “These men are trained to identify moving parts. Hydraulics, electronics. They're trained to reconstruct those parts and the past and arrive at the present. But they can't do that because somebody has stolen the past from them. Nine minutes of it. Nine minutes that became a lifetime for those passengers, and now for their families. Someone has got to figure out what happened in those nine minutes. Somehow, we've got to get them back.”
Von Drehle KL Reserve Installation – 9:37 A.M.
Angela and Anders drove down the road to the building and stopped the car. A man in fatigues walked towards them.
“Ludwig Frisch?” Anders said.
“Yes, sir,” Ludwig said, “I just got the call from the C.O., said you were coming out with some questions.”
“I'm Agent Hansen,” Angela said, shaking his hand, “This is Agent Humboldt.”
“If you're here about the crash the other night, I already told the ITSB guys exactly what I know about that,” Ludwig said.
“They were already out here?” Angela said.
“Yes, ma'am,” Ludwig said, “Night of the crash.”
“Were you in the tower that night?” Anders said.
“Yes, sir,” Ludwig said, “Me and Sergeant Armando Gonzales.”
“Did Flight 549 show up on your radar?” Anders said.
“Yes, sir, it did,” Ludwig said.
“Did you establish radio contact with them?” Anders said.
“No, sir,” Ludwig said, “We would have no reason to contact a commercial or a civilian airliner unless it crossed into military airspace.”
“Would there be a record of 549 on your log?” Angela said.
“Yes, sir,” Ludwig said, “I know it by heart. At 19:52, Flight 549 dropped from an altitude of 29,000 feet. About 45 seconds later, we got an altitude reading of triple-x. I've never seen anything like it. Hope to never again.”
“Then what did you do?” Angela said.
“We called 549, got no response,” Ludwig said, “Then we called the air traffic controller in Stuttgart.”
“What was their response?” Anders said.
“We just gave them the information,” Ludwig said, “Last we'd heard.”
Anders sighed, disappointed.
“Is there something else you're looking for?” Ludwig said.
“About nine minutes,” Anders said.
He walked back to the car.
“We've been traveling a long way,” Angela said.
“Wasn't the initial report that there was no radar confirmation of the crash?” Anders said.
“Yeah, that must have come after our briefing,” Angela said.
They got in and drove away. Armando walked up to Ludwig and stood next to him, watching the agents drive off.
“What did you tell them?” Armando said.
“What I was supposed to say,” Ludwig said.
“Somebody's going to figure out what's going on,” Armando said.
“I don't ask,” Ludwig said, “I don't know. I don't want to know.”
“They find out the truth, you think anybody's going to take the heat for us?” Armando said.
“I'm not the only liar here,” Ludwig said.
“They come back here to talk to me, I'm telling the truth,” Armando said, “I'm not going to have no blood on me.”
“Then you make me the liar,” Ludwig said.
He got into his truck and drove off.
Paradise Motel, Ludwigsburg, outside Stuttgart – 2:32 PM
Angela, Anders, and Demetrios pulled up to the motel and got out. In front, a police officer talked to the motel manager.
“We don't want any trouble,” the manager said, “Did they find her?”
“No, ma'am,” the officer said.
“Well, we need some answers,” the manager said, “The place is a mess.”
The officer looked to the agents and Demetrios. “You'll have to take care of this.”
She walked off.
“Hey, you're going to have to take care of this,” the manager said, “You're going to have to pay.”
“What for?” Angela said.
“The room you rented for the woman?” the manager said. “Well, she trashed it and split.”
They reached the room and looked inside. The door was missing.
“Look at this,” the manager said, “I don't know what kind of game she was playing in here. She blew the door right out of the jamb. I doubt insurance will cover it.”
Angela took off her sunglasses. No place in the room was clean. Papers were everywhere, and the bed was flipped over. The furniture was trashed. She heard Demetrios cursing under his breath again.
“Does your policy cover acts of extraterrestrials?” Anders asked.
Both Angela and Demetrios punched him in the arm at the same time.
“We'll take care of it,” Angela said.
“I’ll cover the expenses,” Demetrios said.
“Right.” The manager walked away.
“Guess that clearance did come in handy,” Demetrios said.
“Okay, Angie, hit me with your best shot,” Anders said.
Angela punched him again.
“No, not what I meant!” Anders said. “What do you think happened here?”
“Oh, that?” Angela said. “I haven't got a clue.”
“It looks an awful lot to me like this place fell from twenty-nine thousand feet,” Anders said.
“You think Max's sister was…abducted?” Demetrios said.
“Maybe it runs in the family,” Anders said.
“Maybe I should be treating the lone survivor instead,” Demetrios said, backing out of the room.
He turned around and found Mike standing there, appalled by the disheveled room.
“What happened here?” he said.
“You're the experts,” Angela said, “Why don't you bring your team down here and work it out?”
“They've got their hands full,” Mike said.
“Yeah, coming up with all that inconclusive evidence,” Anders said.
“I've come to tell you we've found some evidence,” Mike said, “Good evidence.”
“About what caused the crash?” Angela said.
“Quite possibly, though I'm not ready to make an announcement,” Mike said, “Because I'm afraid I'd sound as crazy as you.”
He took out an x-ray chart. “Is there someplace I can show you these? Someplace with a door?”
They walked to the window, where he put the x-ray on the wall. He ran his finger over the thin lines radiating outward from the center.
“These lines you see here, running outward from center, these are what we call fatigue cracks, caused by cyclic stress on the fuselage structure,” Mike said, “From wear and tear. Most commercial planes have an average twenty, thirty thousand hours' flight time. Except 549 was a new plane. It had no wear and tear.”
“Then what caused that?” Demetrios said.
Mike put up another diagram. “I can't tell you that, because I don’t know. But I can tell you this...the way all these cracks radiate from a central point, it looks like the door was shaken and blown outward straight off its frame. Right off the plane. If it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't have known what to look for.”
“Sounds like what you're describing is physically impossible,” Angela said.
“In normal operation, it could never happen,” Mike said, “Not this way. But it did.”
Von Drehle KL Reserve Installation
Armando watched the readouts, facing the window. Ludwig walked up the stairs and took off his coat.
“Hey, man,” he said, “How you doing?”
He walked over to Armando, who didn’t move.
“Look, I'm sorry about before,” Ludwig said, “It's a... I was way out of line. I just...”
He sighed. “I've just been letting this thing get to me, I guess. Hey, Gonzales.”
He put his hand on Armando’s shoulder and saw he was holding a gun. Then Armando’s body fell over, and Ludwig saw he was dead, with a bullet wound in his forehead.
“Oh, scheiße,” he muttered.
He saw three black cars quickly approaching out the window.
Downstairs, RSB agents opened the door to the tower and stormed inside, followed by Sebastian Gerhard. Sebastian looked down a hallway and then started up the stairs. The other RSB agents ran down after him.
“Did you find him?” he asked.
“Not up there,” they said.
They walked back to their cars, got in, and drove away. On the roof, Ludwig looked down and sighed with relief.
Paradise motel – 7:04 PM
Angela and Demetrios had just gotten back to the motel when Angela’s phone rang.
“Please tell me that’s not Anders again,” Demetrios complained.
Angela looked at her phone. “Most likely yes, sadly.”
She picked it up.
“Angie, I just realized something,” Anders said, “I’m at the hanger, listening to the tape. The, the voice of the air-traffic controller, I've heard it before.”
“Anders, we've been up for over 24 hours, can't it wait?” Angela said.
“Yeah, I think the doctors need me for Herr Rebhun’s recovery,” Demetrios said.
“No, I know, I know, I know, I just need you to come over and listen to this right now, okay?” Anders said.
“I'm on my way,” Angela said, hanging up.
“Is he always like this?” Demetrios said.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Angela said.
As they reached a corner, Ludwig walked out from around it. Angela gasped, and Demetrios pushed her aside. Angela pushed him back.
“Hey, don’t freak out,” Ludwig said, “Just listen to me. I’m responsible.”
“You’re not making much sense, sir,” Demetrios said.
“I’m responsible for the crash,” Ludwig said.
“Wait, what?” Angela said.
I'm just wondering, what will happen to this story arc if the EU passes that directive? Given that the vast majority's based on the X-Files, it can't possibly continue like this.
Don't mistake this as me wanting the story arc to be over, because I don't want it to be over, but I understand you may not be able to continue this story arc once the EU passes the copyright directive.
Don't mistake this as me wanting the story arc to be over, because I don't want it to be over, but I understand you may not be able to continue this story arc once the EU passes the copyright directive.
I live in the United States. Here, we have laws and Supreme Court rulings supporting fair use. Wikipedia explains that as follows:
The US Code actually states:
Most importantly, my work is not of a commercial nature, since I'm not charging anybody to read this (and legally I can't). While it isn't completely original, I did change and add elements not present in the original, such as new characters, different motivations and characterizations, different plots, different relationships, and tie-ins with the larger universe (like many fanfics); this means the nature of the work is considerably different from the original, despite the obvious similarities. The nature of this work is something like a homage (in a similar way as "The Orville" is to Star Trek). Specific facts and ideas are not protected under copyright, only their particular expression, and as I said, while I did get the ideas from the original, I changed them significantly before using them (the characters of Mulder and Scully are copyrighted, but the characters of Anders and Angela are not). This work being on a largely obscure forum for a niche video game company means there is practically no effect on the market for or value of the original work (as many Youtube videos reusing copyrighted content claim). As a result, I can claim fair use under US law. So I will continue posting these until someone tells me to stop.
Flight 549, Part 2
ITSB hanger – 8:21 PM
Mike and several other ITSB agents inspected the tail section. He looked over to see Angela and Anders approaching.
“Uh, give me a second,” he said.
He walked over to the agents. “You said you had someone who had some information.”
Ludwig walked in behind them.
"This is Sergeant Ludwig Frisch,” Angela said, "He's the air-traffic controller you heard on the recording that you played for us the other night."
"That was from the Stuttgart Control Center,” Mike said, "It was the voice of a civilian air-traffic controller."
"No, sir,” Ludwig said.
"There seems to be more than a little discrepancy,” Anders said, "What you've been told, what you've been led to believe, was built upon a lie that Sergeant Frisch was asked to perpetuate, along with Sergeant Gonzales, who is now dead."
"I was asked to lie,” Ludwig said, "I was ordered to lie about what happened to Flight 549.”
"By whom?” Mike said.
"My C.O.,” Ludwig said, "Flight 549 appeared on my radar at 1900 hours, when we were asked to give it's coordinates at fifteen-second intervals. About two minutes past thirty degrees north, we saw a second aircraft enter 549's airspace in an intercept pattern. It shadowed 549 for another ten minutes before we were asked to give a new set of coordinates. A few seconds later, there was an explosion... and 549 disappeared from my radar screen.”
Mike stared at Ludwig for a few seconds and then looked back at the agents.
"I don't believe this man,” Mike said, "There's not one speck of forensic detail to support it. No sign of an explosion, no flashing, no residues, no nitrated or oxidation, nothing."
"I'm telling you what I saw,” Ludwig said, "We shot down that plane, knowingly and willingly."
Mike turned to the agents again. “I'm going to tell you two something. I have a responsibility to the truth here."
"And so do we,” Anders said.
"This man can't testify to this story, not without evidence,” Mike said.
"The military is working to cover up that evidence,” Anders said.
"The sergeant's story makes no sense,” Mike said.
"Unless the aircraft that was fired on never appeared on his radar screen,” Anders said, "A third, unidentified aircraft that engaged the civilian jet which the sergeant never saw."
"A stealth aircraft?” Mike said.
"Shot down by the intercept aircraft, which, in turn, may have caused the crash of Flight 549, which means that the cause of this crash is not here in this hangar, but is out there somewhere at a second crash site,” Anders said.
"Somebody would have spotted it, though,” Angela said.
"No, they didn't know to look for it,” Anders said, "They didn't know about a second aircraft. Which means that this man's life is in danger because he can put the pieces together."
"Then somebody has to get him someplace safe,” Angela said.
Mike looked to Ludwig and then at Anders. Then he sighed.
"If there's a second crash site... let's find it,” Mike said.
Mike got in his car and drove off. Angela, Anders, and Ludwig got into her car and started driving down the runway. They saw a number of cars approaching them.
“Oh come on,” Anders said, “Why does the RSB have the worst timing?”
Angela smiled and handed him her Walkman. “Hold my Walkman."
Angela spun the car around, tires squealing, and started driving the other way. She stepped on the gas, speeding away from their pursuers. Not too far behind were the other vehicles, keeping pace. Angela looked ahead to see a red dot approaching, followed by the airplane it was on. The airplane turned on its headlights, illuminating the runway.
“Uh, Angie?” Anders said.
“At this point, I don’t care,” Angela said.
"Don't take your foot off the gas,” Ludwig said.
“Does it look like I’m going to do that?” Angela said.
“Is he going to see us?” Anders said.
“No,” Ludwig said, "We've got to get under him.”
Angela floored the accelerator, but the airplane was much faster, and it was about to touch down.
“Can you just forget about that tumor for one minute?!” Anders said. “Your suicidal streak’s going to get us all killed!”
“Nah, I’m good,” Angela said.
The airplane sailed over them just barely. The other cars spun away and scattered, avoiding the airplane; they had no chance of catching up. Anders sighed with relief. Angela grinned.
“Told you,” she said, half-bragging, “Now, the Walkman?"
Anders handed the Walkman back to her, and she pressed play. “Stayin’ alive” started playing.
“Thought you hated this song,” Anders said, “Because of Vienna.”
“To hell with Vienna,” Angela said, “I’m dying anyways.”
Flight 549 crash site - 10:14 PM
Mike arrived at the crash site. He slowed down and stopped, then got out and looked around. His breath was heavy in the humid air. His eyes widened as he saw a UFO hovering over the site, a light shining down from underneath. He made his way towards it and stopped at the hole of water, where the light was focused. Then the light shut off, and the UFO flew off.
"Somebody help me!” Sharon cried. “Please!"
Mike looked to his right to see Sharon sobbing. He walked over to her.
"Oh, don't... don't let them take me again…” she said, crying into Mike’s shoulder.
Ludwigsburg County Airport - 11:17 PM
A small airplane rolled by, preparing to take off. Anders ran towards another one, where Angela, Demetrios, and Ludwig were.
"I want to ask you something,” he said.
He unfolded a map and showed it to them as best as he could, as the map, as well as their hair, were going wild due to the propellers. Anders pointed to the crash site.
"This is where Flight 549 went down,” Anders said, "As far as you know, there's been no substantiation of a second crash site?"
“Right,” Angela said.
"What if that's because there is no second crash site, because that second aircraft never fell to the ground?” Anders said.
“Oh come on!” Demetrios said.
Anders moved his finger over to a nearby river. "It came down somewhere around here."
“In the Neckar River?” Angela said.
“Yeah,” Anders said.
"Traveling north to south at fifteen degrees…” Ludwig said. “It's a shallower descent. Yeah, that's very possible."
“Possible?” Anders said.
Ludwig nodded. Anders looked to Angela and Demetrios.
“You okay taking Sergeant Frisch back to Constantinople?” Anders said.
“We’ll keep him safe,” Angela said.
“Got some friends at St. Eudokimos who can slip him into the emergency rooms,” Demetrios said, “Not the operating room, in case you’re wondering.”
“Why would you put him there?” Anders said.
Demetrios chuckled. “Just joking. You just let me know what's going on, Anders."
"As soon as I know,” Anders said, “Maybe the next time we hit the bar.”
Angela and Demetrios got into the plane with Ludwig, and Anders waved as it flew off. Then he got into his car.
Neckar River - August 7, 1996, 12:07 AM
Anders drove past a sign that said “Bearfeld Fishing Tours.” Several minutes later, He stopped next to a man standing in front of a pickup truck and got out.
"I saw the sign,” Anders said, "Are you Bearfeld?"
“Yeah,” Bearfeld said, shining the flashlight in his face.
"I stopped by your place,” Anders said, "Nobody was home."
"Who are you?” Bearfeld said.
“Anders Humboldt,” Anders said, showing his badge, "I'm with the Athanatoi."
"You got anything to do with what's going on out there?” Bearfeld said.
"What's going on out there?” Anders said.
"Some kind of search-and-rescue operation or some damn thing, I don't know,” Bearfeld said, "Out over Meritocrat Point. Some kind of hovering lights, there and then go.”
“Can you show me?” Anders asked.
Angela’s apartment, Constantinople
Angela and Demetrios walked inside followed by Ludwig. Angela turned on the light.
“Stay here,” Angela said, “We'll be going to get some things."
"What then?” Ludwig said.
"I'm going to ask Director Schulz for a protective arrangement,” Angela said, pulling some clothes out of a drawer and putting them in the suitcase, “I think it's pretty clear you're going to want to talk to the right people. And if not, Demetrios knows some people.”
"You think I'll be prosecuted?” Ludwig said.
“For what?” Angela said.
“I gave the coordinates,” Ludwig said.
“You didn't bring that plane down, Sergeant,” Demetrios said.
“I lied,” Ludwig said, “I misled an ITSB investigator and his team, I misled you. 134 people, Sergeant Gonzales, they're all dead.”
“Well, one survivor,” Demetrios said, “Herr Rebhun is expected to survive. It wasn't your fault.”
“It’s not,” Angela said.
“But I'll have to live with it,” Ludwig said, “I watched that plane fall out of the sky. It was just a dot on the screen, just a... set of numbers. The wreckage... I can't get that out of my mind. How those people died... how easy it is to lie, just to say it was a dot on the screen... until you see it.”
“Look, we can't tell you how to feel, Ludwig, but I can tell you that we will do everything we can to make sure you tell your story to somebody who will do the right thing,” Angela said.
Ludwig nodded. “Yeah. Thank you. You think it's safe to make a phone call? I'd, I'd like to tell my wife that I'm... whatever.”
“Yeah, um... just tell her you're okay,” Angela said, handing him a phone, “Just don’t give away our location.”
She and Demetrios walked away.
Neckar River – 1:02 AM
A large motorboat sped across the water. Bearfeld sat beside the motor, while Anders adjusted his wetsuit.
“Over there,” Anders said, pointing to a spot where the water was bubbling, “How deep?”
“Fifty, sixty maybe,” Bearfeld said, “Have you worked at this depth before?”
“Not exactly,” Anders said.
“What exactly is your experience?” Bearfeld said.
"Once, I, uh... I got a quarter off of the deep end at the Y pool to impress my ex," Anders said, “Probably why she’s an ex now.”
Before Bearfeld could respond, Anders secured his mouthpiece and jumped into the water.
Arcadia Bar and Restaurant
The bartender leaned on the bar. “Last call, folks!”
Angela, Demetrios, and Ludwig walked into the bar and sat at a table.
“We're going to be met here by a friend of mine, Agent Kazdan,” Angela said, “You're probably going to end up sleeping in one of her holding cells.”
Ludwig stared at the door.
“You want a drink?” Demetrios said. “You need a drink.”
“Yeah, that’ll be great,” Ludwig said.
“I’m good,” Angela said.
“No, I insist,” Demetrios said, “It’s been a long day, and we need to unwind. Plus I haven’t given you your present yet, not-birthday girl.”
Angela smiled. “Alright, sure.”
“Bartender!” Demetrios shouted.
The bartender walked over. “Yeah?”
“Set us up with, uh, a couple of, uh, birthday girl drinks here!” he said. “Can I have a couple of your finest beers, skip the glasses, and another one of these...”
The bartender walked back to his bar and poured three beers, which he carried to their table. Demetrios raised his glass.
“A toast,” he said, “To everlasting friendship. And a long life. Or something like that.”
Angela clinked her glass against his. “To something like that.”
As they drank, Demetrios awkwardly fumbled around with his free hand in his pocket for the present from last night. He finally got it out and put down his glass.
“Angie, I know this is a really bad time, but I just want to say, in case I don’t have time later…” he began.
But Angela wasn’t listening. Someone in the door caught her eye. It was Sebastian Gerhard. Sebastian spotted Ludwig and drew his gun. Angela’s eyes widened.
“Get down!” she shouted, getting to her feet.
Without thinking, she pushed Ludwig out of the way and put herself in the line of fire. One hand reached for her sidearm, but she knew she wouldn’t reach it in time. But at least she would buy time for Ludwig and Demetrios to get away.
She felt someone slam into her, pushing her out of the way. Looking to her left, she saw Demetrios stepping into the line of fire, the present still in his hand, just as Sebastian fired. The bullet struck Demetrios in the chest. He looked down at his bleeding chest and groaned once. Then he collapsed, the present falling from his hand and clattering on the floor. As the other patrons screamed and scattered, Angela quickly drew her gun and shot Sebastian in the leg. He went down too. After checking Ludwig, she ran over to Demetrios and cradled his head with one hand, using the other to put pressure on his wound.
“You're going to keep breathing, Demetrios,” Angela said, checking his pulse, “You are not dying on me now! Do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Demetrios gasped, trying to grin.
Neckar River
Anders swam towards the bottom of the river. A dim light shone down from above, presumably Bearfeld’s boat. He reached a large chunk of metal on the floor, which looked like a craft. He swam along the side and looked into a glass casing, where a dead alien sat. Suddenly, a bright line shone down, and Anders placed his hand in front of his face.
Demetrios dying... yeah, that wouldn't help Angela too much right now. Your mentality plays a role in your health, and she doesn't need anything else counting against her health.
What would the Purge series be like in this timeline? Just wondering, as the New Founding Fathers would need to be called something else, as there were never any Founding Fathers in the Reich, and the Kaiser and his role would also need to be addressed, as a night where murder is legal (which is what the Purge is) would most likely not be allowed by the Kaiser.
What is life like in the Reich’s overseas territories? Are they just like regular parts of the Reich, or like British overseas territories, where they have autonomy in most affairs except for foreign policy and defense?
What would Saving Private Ryan be like in this timeline? Given that the Gibraltar landings were against fellow Romans fighting in the Angeloi, would that part of the civil war be included in the film?
What is life like in the Reich’s overseas territories? Are they just like regular parts of the Reich, or like British overseas territories, where they have autonomy in most affairs except for foreign policy and defense?
What would Saving Private Ryan be like in this timeline? Given that the Gibraltar landings were against fellow Romans fighting in the Angeloi, would that part of the civil war be included in the film?
It would ideally be a TV show set in a Reich where the Kaiser has already been overthrown and the new republic is trying to suppress public unrest. The TV show would focus on much more than just the most obvious crimes (murder, assault, robbery, etc) and on morally gray actions and a variety of characters.
They're just like regular parts of the Reich with the same rights and responsibilities as normal states. So basically Hawaii.
Yep, Saving Private Ryan will be start with the Gibraltar assault and be exactly like that. Band of Brothers and The Pacific would be direct sequels to Saving Private Ryan, and all would be based on true stories.
By the way, I'm not sure if you heard, but that EU copyright bill has just been struck down. We don't have to worry about that anymore, at least for now.
You're assuming I'm not trying to write Angela out of the story.
You're assuming I'm not trying to write Angela out of the story.
And leave Anders with no counter, no one keeping him leveled? I'd be surprised.
I could always bring back that (psychological) vampire from a while ago. Or I could promote Erich to Angela's position. Or even Pavel Novak.
Flight 549, Part 3
August 7, 1996, 1:14 AM
The blinding light approached Anders, who shielded his eyes. The light broke into two distinct and smaller lights, revealing them to be divers with flashlights. Anders took off his air-tank and swam to the surface. He glanced at the boat waiting for him. It was an RSB boat. He started swimming away just as the two divers broke the surface.
“He's not here!” one of them said. “He's not here! He's not down there! He swum out and is going to shore!”
The boat started up and turned in Anders’ direction, the engine revving loudly. Anders walked onshore and dropped the goggles, gasping. He looked back at the boat, almost laughing, when more lights popped up behind him. He turned to see a truck with lights attached to the roof. Before he could run, the two divers tackled him to the ground. Other RSB agents ran up and pointed their rifles at him. Colonel Heidelberg stepped out from the ring of agents and immediately punched Anders in the face.
“Hello again, Agent Humboldt,” he said.
“Damn it, not again,” Anders muttered.
Arcadia Bar and Restaurant
Angela pulled open Demetrios’ shirt to reveal a gaping wound in his chest, covered in blood. She looked at Demetrios, worried about the seriousness of the wound.
“Yeah, it’s serious,” Demetrios said, “But it should be fine. It missed the major arteries, so you shouldn’t worry about complications. Just don’t let me bleed out.”
Angela continued applying pressure. “Keep talking, Demetrios.”
“Hey!” a woman said, pointing at the door. “He's getting away!”
“I’ll be fine,” Demetrios grunted, “Go get him.”
“I'll be right back,” Angela said.
She ran to the door, finding Sebastian had run away. She followed the trail of blood out the door, but Sebastian had vanished into the street. Several police cars screeched to a halt in front of her, and Angela took out her badge.
“I need an E.M.T. in here now!” she said.
She ran back into the bar, and the officers followed.
“Car 39, requesting an E.M.T....” one officer radioed.
The bartender cleared a path for her back to Demetrios.
“Come on, let her through, let her through,” the bartender said, “Help me with this table.”
She and another woman moved a table out of the way for Angela and the officers. Ludwig stood over Demetrios, and Angela knelt down next to him, wiping his wound with a napkin. She heard the siren of an ambulance approaching.
“We've got paramedics on the way,” Angela said.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Demetrios said, smiling. “A doctor is now the patient.”
“You're going to St. Eudokimos,” Angela said, “You're going to be okay. Your team saved me and my dad before, they’ll help you. Look, we still haven't gotten to your present. I'm not going to let you off the hook like this.”
Demetrios laughed.
“It’s nothing,” he said, “I can get through this.”
A pair of paramedics wheeled a gurney through the bar. Angela walked up to them.
“This man has a puncture wound to his right lung,” she said, “He needs to be intubated immediately.”
One paramedic leaned over to Demetrios and found his hospital ID. She looked up at Angela.
“He's my boyfriend, he's a doctor, and he's not going to die,” Angela said.
“We’ll make sure of that,” the paramedic said, gesturing to her partner.
As they put an oxygen mask on Demetrios, Angela noticed blood trickling out of her nose. She quietly wiped it away and turned to Ludwig.
“I'm sorry,” he said, “How did they know?”
“When you talked to your wife, what did you say?” Angela said.
“Nothing,” Ludwig said, “Not even that I was in Constantinople.”
“Then there's someone inside,” Angela said.
She looked back to see Demetrios being wheeled out. Erich and Schulz walked in.
“I got here as fast as I could, Angie,” Erich said, hugging her, “Thank goodness you’re okay.”
“What happened?” Schulz said. “Who shot Dr. Papadopoulos?
“I don't know,” Angela said.
“I got a call about a national witness being transferred,” Schulz said.
“That's Sergeant Ludwig Frisch, he was the intended target,” Angela said, “Agent Kazdan was supposed to be here to put the sergeant into protective custody.”
“Angie, that order was countermanded,” Erich said.
“By whom?” Angela said.
“The RSB,” Schulz said, “Ludwig Frisch is being put under military arrest.”
“Military arrest?!” Angela said.
“Suspicion of murder and providing false testimony in a federal investigation,” Schulz said.
“He has testimony that is damaging to the military,” Angela said, “His life is in danger. He is not going anywhere.”
“The order to arrest this man came out of the office of the General Staff,” Erich said, “Who've also issued a recommendation on Anders.”
“For what?” Angela said.
“Agent Humboldt’s also been put under military arrest on charges of interference with a military investigation into the crash of a commercial airliner,” Schulz said.
“Sir, the military is responsible for the downing of that plane,” Angela said.
“They are admitting as much... but Sergeant Frisch's story is not the one they're telling,” Erich said.
“What is their story, Dad?” Angela said.
Erich stared at Angela for a second, looking at the bloody tissue in her hand. He sighed.
“Schulz and I have a responsibility for the safety of the agents under our supervision,” Erich said, “And as your father, I have a responsibility for your safety, Angie.”
“Dad, I’m fine,” Angela said, “Just a nosebleed.”
“I suggest you make sure of that when you go to St. Eudokimos with Demetrios,” Erich said, “I already lost my dad and your sister. I’m not losing you too.”
“We’ll keep you updated on any developments,” Schulz said.
They walked away. Angela looked down at the tissue.
Von Drehle KL Reserve Installation, Ludwigsburg – 8:00 AM
Angela walked out of a room and turned down a hallway, where Anders was walking in with military police officers. Anders wore a green shirt and pants.
“Anders,” Angela said, “What the frak did you do this time?”
“Hey Angie,” Anders said, “You come to spring me from the joint?”
The first MP held out a clipboard, which Anders signed with the attached pen. The MPs walked past them, and Anders and Angela walked into an interrogation room. Another guard closed the door behind them, and Anders started emptying his duffel bag.
“Was that Colonel Heidelberg in the lobby?” Angela said.
“Long story,” Anders said.
“Anyways, I came to talk to you,” Angela said.
“About what?” Anders said. “The big old misunderstanding?”
“According to the military, there was no misunderstanding,” Angela said.
“So all of a sudden, they just decide to take responsibility for the crash of Flight 549?” Anders said.
“They had no choice, not in light of all the facts that have come out,” Angela said.
“The facts?” Anders said, taking off his prison clothes. “Have you heard their cover story? That the control tower gave bad coordinates to a fighter pilot, causing him to collide with Flight 549 over military airspace?”
“They allowed me to listen to their recordings,” Angela said, “If you believe them, the coordinates that Sergeant Frisch gave to the fighter pilot were the exact path that 549 was on. Now, they would indicate that Sergeant Frisch and his co-controller could not have seen Flight 549 in the airspace until it was too late.”
Anders put on his regular clothes. “ So they're saying the tower put those jets on a collision course.”
“Yes, and that they were the only two aircraft on the radar screen,” Angela said.
“And realizing his guilt, Sergeant Frisch's fellow officer put a gun to his head,” Anders said.
“According to the KL, Sergeant Frisch lied to save himself,” Angela said, “When he found out that his, his fellow officer committed suicide, he came to us to blame the military. That's why they pursued him, to bring him to justice.”
“Then they could conveniently lay the blame on a dead man,” Anders said, “This, uh... second plane... they say it's a military fighter?”
“It was an M-15 Eagle, according to a KL spokesman,” Angela said.
“You believe that story, Angie?” Anders said.
“Not really, but the alternative isn’t really helping your case,” Angela said.
Anders walked over and pulled back the hair on the right side of his face, revealing small radiation burns on his forehead.
“Does it look like I got this from an M-15?” Anders said.
“Those look like radiation burns,” Angela said, “Where did you get that?”
“At the second crash site, in about fifty feet of water at the bottom of the Neckar River,” Anders said, “I followed a trail of bubbles down to the wreckage, but it didn't look like anything that might take off from an KL base that’s not named Edinburg.”
“What was it?” Angela said.
“What collided with Flight 549 was a UFO shot down by the military, taking the passenger plane right along with it,” Anders said, “Just like the incident with the Mexican fighter jet.”
They walked out of the room.
“Except it can't be proven,” Angela said, “They haven't been able to find any physical evidence whatsoever that Flight 549 was involved in a collision.”
“According to who?” Anders said.
“Mike Millar and the ITSB,” Angela said.
“How do you know he's not lying?” Anders said.
“I don't, except he seems to be the one man that truly wants to figure out what downed that plane and who came to me with information he had no reason to share,” Angela said.
They left the building and walked to Angela’s car.
“What information?” Anders said.
“He found Sharon Graffia wandering in a daze at the crash site the night we left, after seeing lights over the area,” Angela said.
“Max Fenig's sister?” Anders said.
“That's another thing, Anders,” Angela said, “She's not Max Fenig's sister. She's an unemployed aeronautical engineer, formerly employed by Tesla Dynamic and the Bureau of Defense, who spent time in-and-out of mental institutions. That's where she met Max.”
“Why would she lie?” Anders said.
“I don't know,” Angela said, “All I know is that this plane is still killing people as it sits there on the ground.”
Anders stopped and stared at her. “What?”
“Anders, Demetrios is dead,” Angela said.
Anders’ eyes widened. “No, h-how?”
“There was an attempt on Sergeant Frisch’s life at the Arcadia,” Angela said, “I pushed him out of the way, but Demetrios pushed me out of the way and took the bullet. He was still alive when they got to the operating room, but the bleeding was worse than they had expected. He’d lost too much blood. We operated for three hours, but there wasn’t much we could do. He slipped away at around four."
Anders looked around and stuffed his hands in his pocket. “And here I am, still wearing his jacket. He told me to keep it. I should’ve given it back when I had the chance.”
He was obviously angry. Angela didn’t shed a single tear, although she was also devastated, at least on the inside. She instead took out Demetrios’ present from her pocket and opened it, revealing a simple wedding ring inside.
"He saved his life, Anders, and mine,” Angela said, "And he was about to propose to me.”
A few seconds ago, she wanted to act stoically, but now she couldn’t take it anymore. Sighing loudly to herself, she stormed towards her car, Hans’ coat flapping behind her.
"Wait, Angie, Angie!” Anders said, running after her.
Angela turned around.
“What are our loved ones dying for?!” Angela cried. “Everybody we ever cared about is dead because of us! Grandpa Hans and Conrad, Melissa, and now Demetrios! Are their deaths for the truth or for the lies?!”
"It's got to be for the truth,” Anders said, "If we owe them anything, it's to make sure of that.”
“Is this what Demetrios would’ve wanted?” Angela said. “To have died for your crusade?”
“I think he would’ve wanted to die for you,” Anders said, “He took that bullet for you. He would’ve wanted you to carry on for him."
Brubaker Corner, Stuttgart - 9:00 AM
A motorcyclist rolled by, while a gardener raked the leaves. A few picnic benches were placed around the park, with campers hitched near them. Angela and Anders walked over to the gardener.
"Excuse me, sir, Max Fenig?” Anders asked.
The gardener pointed to his right. "Over there."
They walked over to the camper and went inside. The interior looked almost exactly the same as it did when they last saw it, back in Heppenheim.
"Remember this place?” Anders said.
"I remember being amazed at what some people will call home,” Angela said.
"You have to admit, the man had an enduring sense of style,” Anders said.
"Only Max Fenig and you would appreciate living like this,” Angela said.
Anders chuckled as they walked towards the back of the camper. Angela rubbed some dust off the stereo and pressed play. “Unmarked Helicopters” by Soul Coughing started playing. She listened for a few seconds before pressing stop and ejecting the tape, stuffing it and the other tape on the table into her pocket.
"I think you were actually kindred spirits in some deep, strange way,” she said.
"What do you mean?” Anders said.
Angela sighed. "Men with Spartan lives, simple in their creature comforts if only to allow for the complexity of their passions.”
Anders picked up a can of food."Hmmm, beans and Weiners."
"What exactly are we looking for here, Anders?” Angela said.
"Something to explain what Max was doing on that plane,” Anders said, “What he was coming to show me or tell me."
"What makes you think he was coming to see you?” Angela said.
Anders sat down at the computer and handed her the bloodied Athanatoi business card he found in Max’s pocket.
"Max is the key to all this,” he said, looking through a folder, "He knew that plane was in danger even before it took off, before it entered military airspace. How would he know that? And what would be worth taking that risk?”
He took out a videotape and put it in the VCR. He turned on the TV, bringing up a picture of Max standing in front of the camper.
“Hi, Max here,” he said, "But of course. This is, uh, well, quite obviously, uh, my story, since I'm telling it. Anyway... um... for those of you who know me already, this is going to be ancient history, but for the rest of you, this is... well, what can I say... the story of my life. Actually, all I ever wanted in life was to be left alone.”
Max laughed. “Don't we all these days? So just my luck that I'd eventually become an alien abductee. Now I'm never alone. Any minute, when I'm least expecting it…”
He pointed at the sky. "And the worst part is, no one believes you. Well, uh... almost no one. So, I've devoted my life to providing all you disbelievers out there with proof. Proof that there are aliens right now, as we speak, visiting our planet in alien ships for purposes of a rather troubling agenda known only to certain members of the government, uh, the Athanatoi and RSB and certain high-ranking members of the military-industrial community who have recovered some of these very craft, not that they'd ever admit to it publicly... uh... of course. Nor, nor would they, uh, admit that they have salvaged some of this alien technology and are using it in military applications, most recently in Burma and Japan and Fusang. The madmen at KL Edinburg started the Burma war and funded the Japanese and Fusang rebellions to get an excuse to test their new toys. Did you really think those revolutions just started out of nowhere, that the people just picked up pitchforks one day and decided, ‘Hey, let’s go overthrow the government’? No, they wouldn’t admit it. That would be un-Roman and they won't admit it until someone conf, confronts them with irrefutable, undeniable proof. Someone like me. And, uh... I should probably mention that I should do this at great risk to my own health and safety, but, hey…"
He laughed. "When every day's just another day you're going to get kidnapped by, by some little gray or green guys or lizard people from outer space, what's a few RSB spooks to worry about?"
Neckar River
The entire part of the river where the UFO had crashed had now been cordoned off, and a cleanup crew was on site to cover up the evidence at the bottom. Machine-gun-mounted trucks raced along the riverbanks, while soldiers and RSB agents ran to a large area covered by a giant tarp. Underneath the tarp, men and women sat at computers and wrote notes on blackboards, while metal boxes were placed around them, each containing wreckage. Other technicians inspected each box with Geiger counter. On the shore, more divers carried more boxes out of the river, while another man zipped up a body-bag containing an alien body and carried it to a line of similar body-bags.
“Hey!” someone shouted.
Two divers helped another diver onshore, who was coughing and gagging wildly. He had radiation burns all over his face. They carried him to a gurney and wheeled him to the tent. Sebastian Gerhard, a bloodstained bullet hole in his pants, walked over and stood over the diver. He took out a walkie-talkie.
“Colonel Heidelberg, we found it,” he said.
Would Who Wants To Be A Millionaire still exist? Just wondering, as there were two different versions for the UK and the US, but the Reich is a parallel to both of those countries.
Will Flight 549 be mentioned in the next gameplay update, or the 1990s cultural update? Seeing as the Frankfurt-Oder shooting was mentioned in the last gameplay update and is set to be mentioned in the 1990s cultural update, maybe Flight 549 would be mentioned.
Will this story arc affect the gameplay updates that much more? Just wondering, as it hasn’t affected it that much so far.
Will Flight 549 be mentioned in the next gameplay update, or the 1990s cultural update? Seeing as the Frankfurt-Oder shooting was mentioned in the last gameplay update and is set to be mentioned in the 1990s cultural update, maybe Flight 549 would be mentioned.
Will this story arc affect the gameplay updates that much more? Just wondering, as it hasn’t affected it that much so far.
I think it would.
I wasn't planning on it, but I might throw in a passing reference in the 1990s update.
Probably not, because I already played to 2100 and have a set gameplay plot I want to follow. The story arc is directed by the gameplay, not the other way around. The events in the story are also low-level and more personal instead of global and with big consequences. The most I plan to do are passing references.