| Volume 1, Issue 3, September 30, 2006 | |
| Behind Enemy Lines by Derek Thompson |
"Sol, it's time. They're ready to see you now." There was no warning, no inkling of their purpose, just a dire sense of immediacy. But however bad things were, at least the waiting was over. The faces along the corridor were friendly as Sol passed by. Maybe they were too friendly. This time he must have really rocked the boat because they showed him straight to the upper level, flanked by seniors who escorted him in silence. He'd never realised before that silence could be sinister. Inside, the light was so bright nothing was visible. Light permeated everything, absorbing all shape and definition. One authoritative voice rode the air, sharp as a blade and clear as a note. "We have a mission for you." It took a moment to register. So that was it; he almost felt relieved. How long had it been since the last mission? He couldn't remember, aeons it felt like. "We're expecting great things of you this time...." This time. Was that a hint of accusation? So, Sol asked his questions, just to show he was paying attention. A wasted effort if it was anything like the previous missions because no answers would be forthcoming. He didn't remember a great deal about the last offensive -- a design of the debriefing -- but that particular recollection was vividly constant. It was always on a need-to-know basis, and they never needed him to know. "What are my orders?" he wondered aloud, accepting his compliance as readily as they had. Read the entire story:
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