The Fall of Sukrat Part Two: Infiltration

Ellep must join the Blood spy effort and travel deep into Meck City on a dangerous mission in hopes of uncovering a way to defeat the deadly rampaging Tarkus. Was there a way to stop its terror?

We made plans for our espionage incursion deep into Meckland knowing full well that the plans would most likely be worthless sooner than later. In the dark of night, we departed our Blood homelands lightly equipped and grimly determined. After a grueling and circuitous journey over a period of days, our small party made it successfully to the edge of the densely populated Meck homeland. The orangey, brown glow we had seen from a vast distance and it surrounded and capped the dirty, noisy Meck City, the glow a reflection off the choking dust and fumes emitted from their manufacturing complexes.  With clothes similar to Meck residents, we mixed into the milling crowds and headed toward the government area, Meck Centre. We laid low for two days to investigate and locate safe havens within the city and planned out clandestine routes to our various perilous destinations.

From information gleaned from earlier spies, we knew the Meck’s military and industrial complexes lay near the volcano Sukrat. Our party dispersed, and I and another mixed into the Meck populace, while the other two set out and succeeded in detonating an explosion near the volcano Sukrat, the symbol of Meck’s power. In the ensuing series of huge destructive volcanic explosions, the volcano cone was obliterated and the molten lava oozed out toward the plains that eventually cooled to a dark, hot plateau extending all the way to the River Aqua. Sukrat’s destruction proved more psychological than tangible because it didn’t destroy as much of the Meck facilities as we had hoped, but the loss of the massive god-idol was profound. I found this out later by comingling with the Meck residents, and found, to my dismay that my co-conspirators had heroically perished while executing their daring sabotage deed. I with my partner, on the other hand, worked our way closer to the shambled remnants of Meck command and control. In their disorder and grief, we infiltrated the funeral of their leader Mach-Pah who had died overcome by anguish and shame at the loss of their god-idol Sukrat.

Their so-called religious leaders gathered around the sepulcher along with a host of other Meck mourners. Attending the ceremony, the Meck government’s doctor declared Mach-Pah fully dead, the minister of propaganda raved exaltedly about having been spared from a similar fate in the disaster, and a non-descript pilgrim, actually my partner in disguise, strayed into the mix and strived boldly for acceptance by speaking evil warring and revengeful slogans against Bloods while suggesting quick and, hopefully on our own accord, foolhardy actions. Finally, a weeping vicar, despite the loss of their leader, worried most about himself stating that he would positively survive the whole impending deadly ordeal.

Onyx, the new dictatorial leader, slowly looked about at us all and without a qualm pulled a blade from his sleeve and quickly slashed the throats of two young interns standing nearby that he claimed afterward had strayed from Meck doctrine while taking up their rivaled Blood way.  This was how they ensured loyalty I remembered thinking as my eye wandered to my partner’s eye, knowing full well that we both could very well be the next bloody victims. My legs trembled in fright.

Onyx spoke loud and forcefully about how the harbinger of angst would consume them all if Tarkus was not unleashed and allowed to slaughter all Bloods in their homeland. I buried my physical manifestation of fear in my hands as in feigned prayer over the passing of the old leader. I suddenly forced myself to comprehend and focus on my mission I was about to embark on: Find a weakness in the soulless Tarkus or break the will of the Meck people. The new leader went on speaking highly of the other dead, giving spirit to their deeds in the field of battle and I vocally agreed, boldly and boisterously standing up beside him and presenting an accusation that other spies besides the two dead stood there among us there in the leader’s religious chamber! Surprised by my unplanned and unwarned outburst my cohort turned a pasty white in fear for of course, we were the spies I warned the leader of!  For a moment, the leader paused, then agreed with me scanning about with concerned suspicion saying that I had spoken the truth.

After the funeral ceremony, I was at first terrified and then surprised when Onyx took me aside, his eyes twitching from side to side perhaps in taking my warning to heart obviously his suspicions overwhelming his psyche. He asked me if I had identified the spies, and I answered that I had clues but had not verified them as of yet. I assured him that I would inform him as I uncovered their plots and that if necessary, I would dispatch said spies quickly and efficiently. He took me into his confidence after I fabricated a reasonable courageous past and over the course of a few days he came to fully trust my judgment and advice.  I bid myself to tread slowly and cautiously, using utmost care not to raise suspicions that would reveal my plot. The plan I derived in those few seconds at the ceremony could reach fruition in a matter of days. I suggested that the Bloods would know of the destruction of the god-volcano Sukrat and they would as a result most likely grow more daring and brave. Perhaps, I whispered in secrecy, the Bloods might plan an all-out onslaught hoping the Meck resolve flagged and would try to out maneuver the powerful, though singular Tarkus. Onyx glanced around me furtively and told me simply�"Tarkus was not singular for long. The simple words struck me so hard that I thought my legs would buckle beneath me. I braced myself with locked arms on the sturdy table between us and I prayed the stoic stance in Onyx’s eyes would appear as one of fortitude and not of fear. My memory bled of cool, dead Blood bodies under that terrible beast-machine that roamed closer and closer to my homeland and there would be another? All Bloods were doomed!  I had to act boldly and now, but how would I gain the valuable insights to learn Tarkus’ weakness?  A chill of recognition passed through me�"I prayed that Tarkus indeed had a viable weakness.    

Over the following days, I carefully asked those in Meck positions of power simple but potentially useful questions. I remained afraid that my pointed questions would instill suspicion and result in a quick slice across my throat in my sleep, but day after day I continued to breathe and pursue my loyal quest.  During one mealtime in an unassuming conservation and catching me quite unaware, the aforementioned leader’s doctor let on that his friend was an eye specialist. He went on to say this specialist could craft special mechanical eyes in the way of Meck technology. The adept conversationalist raised his eyebrows and emphasized quietly�"very large, special eyes. Indeed, I acted nonchalant, asking him what person would require large mechanical eyes. Come on, he said poking me in the ribs as if it were a big joke, not a person but the Meck’s biggest, most honored war machine! I dropped my eating utensil with a clank in shocked recognition, but instantly fought to not react any farther nor act too interested. My exhausted head reeled. These eyes must be iron I said resuming my meal.  Of course not, the doctor replied quietly laying a hand on my forearm. His breath was laden with alcohol as he went on: the eyes are made of the finest, delicate glass and connected directly into the brain of Tarkus himself. Really? I asked. He held a finger to his lips, whispering, not a word must be repeated. I nodded my head in understanding and remained placid and quiet. 

That night, I tried to sleep on my hard Meck cot pondering my next action. Is this the secret weakness of Tarkus? Should I delve deeper, ask more questions, risk my life and perhaps lose all? I didn’t sleep as during most nights in the previous three fortnights I remained in that dirty, noisy Meckland; but time was running short, so return I must to my own homeland to recount what I had learned hoping it was worth cutting my infiltration short and with it, breaking the trust I had established with the Mecks. The news of another like Tarkus was bad enough information to turn me back home and report it at once.

The day before I prepared to depart discreetly gathering my meager things and trying not to indicate anything was different. The doctor sat with me again at meal time. Avoiding any perceived direction to the conversation, I recalled Mach-Pah’s funeral and eventually wondered aloud if he had seen the upstart pilgrim. The doctor went white, pulled his hands down into his lap, and put his head down. I mustn’t know or say, he said. So you must know something, I said in reply keeping my eyes on my meager rations. No, he whispered, we, I must not speak of that pilgrim. After several moments, the doctor regained his fortitude and turned his head and lowered his voice. From others and my weak memory, I recall the pilgrim’s death as a spy. The doctor looked about at the others nearby and stole a furtive, grim glance that met my eyes.

I knew what he was.

In the middle of the night when the noisy Meck city quieted a bit, I gathered my already packed things and steeled myself for the arduous and dangerous return journey to my Blood homelands.  It had become a belated time with no time to delay. Securing the door to my hutch and venturing out and down a dark, dirty alley, a figure materialized from a corner’s shadow and it reached out and touched my arm. The fear boiled in my throat. Do not be afraid my son, the shadow said. The voice was familiar but cloaked in some way. Let the Blood god preserve you and guide you to safety. Take these and if caught and detained they may prove useful in buying your freedom. I could feel paper and cool currency he held in his trembling warm palm. And who might you be? I whispered with furtive scanning eyes. He leaned out of the shadow into the dim refractive light from distant smoking gas lamps�"it was the doctor. I assumed it to be so, I told him grasping his hand in mine. Won’t you try to make an escape with me? I asked. I am afraid, he said. My usefulness has grown cold and my body old, so I am no longer useful and can no longer make a run. He paused and shook his head. No, no I cannot anymore. I would slow and delay your relay of the vital message you carry. I only wish that we may end the senseless slaughter of our two peoples, and if our gods be willing, peace will befall both people’s lands. I reaffirmed my grip in his and released him, telling him that perhaps in this life’s future or the one beyond, we might meet again in better conditions.

Goodbye my friend, I finished.   

 Folding and stowing the monetary gifts away, I made my way out of Meck City to the outskirts where fresh air blew and welcome fields and meadows laid. Two partial-phased moons gave me sufficient light to travel, yet did not overtly reveal my trek. I met a few people; mostly drunken soldiers staying away from restrictive superiors or perhaps an escape from brutal service, I hadn’t a clue. One inebriated soldier, a Security Meck I recognized from his insignia, stopped me to inquire why a sober citizen would be traveling there during the night. Ah, I whispered finger to my lips. An illegal tryst with a young boy must be discreet. Fingering the currency in my pocket, I pulled out a few bills and held out my hand palm down and said to him, as we all must be discreet at times. The man smiled widely, nodded and gripped the bills in a meaty fist. Go have fun my friend, he said, and we parted ways.