Morgan Evans' Journal

Feeding with Fiction
Whilest I work on my next entry for this (which will probably have to wait until after I finish a long overdue paper on Joyce's "The Dead"), I might as well assure you all that I am indeed still alive, and sake your appetite for more (if indeed anyone reading this has such) with some more fiction, part two in my short story currently titled "The Hormenith Portal Incident." This is the first part.

Speaking of which, I took part in the 16th Storybloging carnival. You can find it here.

And now, for our feature presentation. . . .

~Part II: Perils of Service~
Langoonian Date: 34-35 Enlar, Kilocycle 387

Gor’tith

Gor`tith wasn’t enjoying retirement a great deal. He had left Military Intelligence Services only two and a half decacycles ago, and he was actually missing the work he had once hated. Maybe he should try to find some other work that would be interesting . . . maybe he could get a job with the Hal`gul`rin Institute of Knowledge. They were always sending people to other modules. That would be fun. He had almost made up his mind to try to get a job with HIK when a knock came at the door. Who could that be? he wondered, I never get visitors. He went to the door to greet whoever was there anyways, and saw two men in suits standing outside, pretending to be casual. Having worked with similar people for a good deal of time, it wasn’t hard for him to tell they were MIS agents. He knew what they were probably here about. Should he open the door? Suddenly he didn’t miss analysis quite so much. Oh well, ignoring them won’t deter them much anyways. He sighed in resignation, and opened the door.

“Yes?” he asked, just in case they weren’t here for the reason he knew they were.

“We’d like to talk with you, if we may, Lt. Resmean,” the one on the right said.

Like I have a choice. “Of course, though I am no longer a lieutenant. . . .” He trailed off, waiting for the other to give him a name to use.

“Your commission has been reactivated,” the other stated, ignoring the implied question.

“I see.”

“Here are your papers. You are to report tomorrow.” The other agent handed him a case, and then they both left.

Oh well, guess my problem of not enjoying retirement had been solved for me. Might as well see what’s in the case. He closed the door and went into his study, sat down at the desk and opened the case. Well, well. The top paper was a document saying that he was hereby promoted to the rank of Commander, effective 35 Enlar of this Kilocycle. Underneath it was a document informing him that his clearance had been raised from level 5 to level 7. It looked like he was moving up in the world . . . maybe it wouldn’t be to bad now.

Several hours later, he was still studying the papers he had received. Something was going on at the Hormenith Portal, and as he had brought it to Command’s attention, Command wanted him to find out what it was, because no one had much of any idea. He studied the summery again, looking for anything that he may have missed. He was actually enjoying it now, trying to find out what was happening. Oh well, nothing I can tell from this stuff. No clues in these papers that I hadn’t already found. I’ll have to wait until I went in tomorrow morning.

He looked up at the clock and corrected himself. Not tomorrow morning, later this morning. Is it really that late? Oh well, guess I should get to bed then, I have work tomorrow. Thought I’d left that, guess not. Gor`tith bent down and started putting the papers back into the case.

He was almost done when the window shattered. He felt the breeze from a bolt pass right over him, missing by bare centimeters and shattering the clock he had been looking at only two millicycles before. He quickly ducked under the desk, pulling the case with him. He pulled the papers out and pulled out the sidearm that had been on the bottom. Right, he thought, like a sidearm’s going to be much use. Whoever’s shooting at me is probably a hundred meters away with a sniper’s shooter. Still, having the little needle shooter made him feel a little better.

Then he heard the door being broken down. Maybe his needler would be of some use after all. A dull thudding sound came from the next room, then a feline scream. He heard footsteps, then voices speaking in Hormenith. They’ve killed Jalon, he thought, tears coming to his eyes at the thought of Hormenith agents shooting the poor felix. Why those. . . they’re going to pay for this, Jalon, I swear. They and their whole good for nothing cursed race!

Footsteps again. They were coming for him. The footsteps stopped. They must be at the door. He readied himself under the desk. He heard a thud as they hit the door, then another and the door came off its hinges and fell down. Bolts sprayed across the room. The Hormenith agents muttered to themselves when they saw noone there. “What about under the desk?” one asked.

Why did they have to think of that? One poked his shooter under the desk and fired. It missed by only centimeters. Good, they’re heading towards the door to the bedroom. Now’s my chance, just like in those spy stories.

He fired, hitting one of the agents in the back with all four of his shots. The agent whirled around, alerted by the flashes of pain. To late. He shoot at the other agent, getting him in the face with two of his shots. The agent fired back, one bolt thudding harmlessly into the desk, the second biting deep into his arm. The first agent got off a shot that missed by a decimeter, then collapsed. The second tried to shoot again, found he was out of ammo, and started to reload before likewise collapsing. He quickly retrieved their weapons. Both empty. He found their ammo pouches and reloaded them. The pain from his arm was enormous, so he also checked to see if they had any medical kits on them.

They did. He quickly took a painkiller out and injected himself. That was much better. He bandaged it as best he could, then went to the broken window, shooter in hand. Hah, I’d make a great field agent, wait until Command hears about this!

He pulled aside the curtain. There! That’s the man that shot at me first. No – he’s about to shoot again! He quickly tried to duck, but he was too late. The bolt slammed into his hip, shattering bone. Unable to support himself, he collapsed. No! It’s not supposed to happen like this, it never does in the stories!

He waited several millicycles there, not in much pain because of the Hor`boult he had injected himself with, but unable to stand or move around a very much due to his shattered hip. I guess he’ll come and kill me now. This isn’t how it happens in the stories! Wait, that doesn’t sound like a Hormenith, it’s – Shouting in Hal`gul`rin, then in Langoonian Standard could be heard from the front of the house. Yes, it is! MIS agents, here to rescue me, it is like in the stories!

Just then, something came though the window and landed just inside his bedroom. A firebomb. There was a small explosion, then a fireball as the oil combusted. No, not now! Not just as things were starting to turn out alright after all! I have to get out of here!

He tried to drag himself to the door, but found that his left arm, which had been shot by the agent lying unconscious in front of him, wouldn’t support him. He heard footsteps and voices, then felt arms lifting him up. Then the adrenalin left him, and he fainted.