A Chaucer’s Christmas: #1
Introduction:
The thunder crashed louder overhead. The late December storm was not only a surprise, it was an unwelcome one. I shivered under my blanket, sipping the remainder of my lukewarm tea. Though the power was out, our stove was gas, which meant a steady hand with a lighter could start it up.
I looked around at the faces surrounding me. I opened my mouth, but before I could get it out, one of them cut me off. “Don’t apologize. All of us wanted to be here. You couldn’t control the storm.”
“But imagine if you could!” someone else responded. Such a fantasy minded group, my friends.
Two of them started to discuss how controlling storms could occur scientifically. “But if you were able to affect the convection system,” one of them said, but the other shook their head. He started to make his point, but he was drowned out by a crash of thunder.
“It sounds like the thunder is trying to rip open the house,” one of the girls said, stressfully laughing as she snuggled into her thick yellow blanket.
“It’s been raining for, what, six hours?” I asked. “It can’t go on much longer now.” I laughed, but we all knew the forecast said it would run into the next morning. When the power would come back on was anyone’s guess.
“We should all tell stories,” someone said. “Like they do in the Canterbury Tales.” She cleared her throat, then started, “Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,” before being cut off by a pillow launched from the other side of the room.
“That’s a good idea,” I agreed. “I’ll put the kettle back on for more tea. You guys decide who should go first.”
By the time I got back, they were sitting in a loose circle around the floor – even more loose than before. One of the girls raised her hand, indicating she was going to begin the rounds.
Story #1: The Christmas I Saved the World
Don’t believe me if you’d like, but every word I say is true.
I was tied back to back with Agent Flint, dangling headfirst over massive pool of piranha infested water. Flint let out a sharp laugh. “Is this the worst you can do, Lann? This is nothing compared to the last time.”
“Last time?” I gasped.
“Yes, the last time,” Agent Flint said. “Don’t worry, I’ll get out of this.”
I knew from the tone of his voice he was winking at me, but seeing as he was facing the opposite direction, the full effect was lost.
Only that morning, I was just a lowly college intern, shuffling papers and making coffee runs, until Agent Flint had burst through the door earlier that day and dragged me out onto a mission with him. “Simple recon,” he had said.
Simple recon was not what it had turned out to be.
Our reconnaissance vehicle, a big white van disguised as an apartment cleaner, had been spotted. Someone had walked up to the window, broken it open, and piped knock-out gas into the air. The next thing I knew, I was waking up, listening to the snap of piranha jaws.
“So, how are you going to get us out of here?” I asked, knowing Agent Flint would pull out a sonic screwdriver or some other futuristic tech and free us.
“I’m working on it, intern,” he said. His voice sounded forced, like he was already busy. I could feel him squirming, but the position we were in did not make it easy. The blood was already rushing through my head, making it swim. “When I say go,” Flint whispered, “Bend upwards.”
I heard a series of clicks, then a harsh whisper. “Go!”
I bent my body double, attempting a rough form of a sit-up. The work-out regimen I had been participating in paid off, and I nearly came to a 90-degree angle. Then, without warning, the rope restraining us snapped, and we plunged downward, toward the gaping teeth of the death fish.
I will admit – I let out a small scream as we fell. In the corner of my eye, I saw Agent Flint take something and throw it toward the corner of the pool. A second later, we plunged into the shallow water. Flint grabbed my neck – how he had gotten free I don’t know – and dragged me toward the edge.
I thrashed and kicked, attempting to help him, but he only muttered, “Stop struggling! We’re almost out.”
With a heave, Flint lifted me onto the edge of the pool, then dragged himself away from the water. He crouched, looking around the room. “What… What happened?” I asked.
Flint looked at me briefly. “I threw a blood-soaked rag into the water ahead of us, to attract the piranhas from where we were headed.” He motioned to the corner, where all the fish were massed in one place. “It didn’t take long for one to get injured, and from there, its pure chaos.”
“What do we do now?”
“Good question,” Flint said, considering. “I’m guessing we go through that door.” He pointed at a tall, steel door, which had no apparent handle. He went and knelt in front of it. “I’m guessing Lann doesn’t know we’re here,” he said. “He typically leaves his prisoners until he has time to get back to watch their deaths. Provided we can keep moving, we might be able to get the drop on him.” He muttered something under his breath.
“What?” I asked, picking myself up and walking toward him.
“It’s an actual lock. All of my lock-picking tools were taken.”
“Can you use a bobby pin?” I asked, pulling one out of my hair.
Flint accepted it with a humored expression. “The perks of your hairstyle,” he said, flashing his eyes up, even though he had no chance of seeing his own short hair.
He returned his attention to the door, and within a few minutes, it had sprung open. “Come on,” he said, standing up and leading the way through.
We wound our way through twisting hallways. Agent Flint would check rooms, shake his head, then move on. Finally, he nodded and led the way through a non-descript doorway. I followed him, carefully looking everything in the room. It looked like something from a technological whiz’s dream – or nightmare. Computers and monitors sprawled everywhere, with cords connecting all of them. There was even what looked like a holographic projector, with a globe of the world spinning.
Agent Flint had taken a seat in front of the largest monitor, typing frantically on the keyboard.
“What are you doing?” I asked, coming to stand behind him.
“I need to stop this,” he said. “It’s a massive laser array, set to go off on December 21st, just after sunset.” He looked at the clock. “That’s only thirty minutes away,” he muttered, sitting back. “And hacking in is going to take a lot longer than thirty minutes.”
“What is it going to do?” I asked.
“It’s going to blast Washington, D.C.,” Flint said, rubbing his eyes. “Everyone is going to be watching the stars, too, what with the conjunction happening that night.”
“Jupiter and Saturn,” I said, absentmindedly.
“If you say so,” Flint said. Suddenly, his eyes popped open, and he started counting on his fingers. “Wait a second. That’s 13 letters. The same length as the password. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?”
We shared a glance of ‘Well, maybe,’ then he leaned forward and typed it into the password bar. The lock screen cleared, and Flint grinned at me. “Good job, intern!” He turned back, and began to open applications. The screen for the attack lit up, and I could see his keypad inputs changing the view.
“What are you doing?” I asked again, this time in confusion. From my limited computer expertise, it looked like he wasn’t cancelling the destruction, just changing the target. “Is that Moscow?”
Flint didn’t respond, but instead continued to type things.
“Agent Flint,” I demanded. “What are you doing?”
“I am obeying my orders,” Flint replied. His stony voice chilled my blood, and I inhaled sharply. “Turn away if it’s easier for you, intern.”
“But… But,” I said, “You’re supposed to be saving lives-“
“I’m supposed to protect this nation,” Agent Flint said, in that same, cold voice. “And the best defense is a strong offense.”
“I can’t let that happen,” I said, grabbing his shoulders, and pulling him backwards. His chair tipped and he sprawled onto the floor.
As Flint tried to collect himself, I scanned the screen for an escape or cancel button, but couldn’t find any. I spun around, and without thinking, or perhaps thinking very clearly, kicked him between the legs. “How do I turn it off?” I shouted.
Flint yelped in agony, and I lifted my foot, preparing to hit him again. When he didn’t respond, I kicked him one more time, then turned back to the computer.
When I looked at it again, I realized that I didn’t see a cancel button because I was looking for English words. Set on Moscow as it was, it had turned to Cyrillic, the written alphabet for Russian.
A big red button in the corner read “аннулировать,” which, when roughly translated, meant, “Cancel.”
With a big smile, I clicked the button, and watched a query box came up. “Are you sure you want to quit?” it asked in big, bold letters, but in Russian, of course.
I clicked the yes box, and nodded gratefully as the program stopped counting down and shut off.
Behind me, I heard Flint pushing himself off the ground. “You stupid little –“ he started, but I cut him off, spinning around and right-hooking him in the jaw. He staggered backwards, and I pressed the advantage. Once again, I took a cheap shot and kicked him between the legs, then kicked him in the side a few times for good measure. Finally, I punched him in the throat and left him to choke on his breaths.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out where the building I was in was located, and contact the proper authorities. They came and arrested Flint, and let me go in time to get out and watch the conjunction.
After all, I wasn’t about to miss one of the greatest astronomical events of our time, was I?