Death to the Insects

Chapter 5: Years of Resistance

Chapter 5: Years of Resistance

The next twelve and a half years passed like a blur. One of the first things that Croft did was set up a conduit to pass on useful information to General Clay, who was managing much of the growing resistance in the west and the north. But Croft only passed on select information and made sure the information was "scrubbed", either by changing small details or adding or removing facts, to reduce the chance the Insects, if they intercepted any of this information, could work backwards and figure out the source of the information.

Croft swore the Silencer to secrecy, and didn't tell anyone else about the identity of their new intelligence source. Levi was in a very dangerous position, and Croft wasn't about to contribute to the risk by letting others in on the identity of their top intelligence source.

Who would have thought it: Levi Esherkol, a cook and scientist, was their top secret spy. Levi on rare occasions had accompanied Croft on active duty missions in the past (before he retired from the service), but always in a support capacity. Croft never imagined that Levi would have had the courage to put himself in the front line like this, and he wondered what had motivated his old friend to do so.

Their first order of business was to get those shield schematics that Mr. Towel wanted. Inglorious and Levi messaged each other back and forth, and it was immediately clear that while Levi could get access to the information, it was simply too much data to transfer in a piggybacked micropixel broadcast. The data would have to be transferred over an open line, which was impossible, or transferred by disk personally, which didn't seem possible.

But Levi proved more creative than even Croft had given him credit for. A few days later a message came from Levi telling them that he had found couriers to give them the shield data, ten such couriers each with an identical copy of the data, no less, and had tagged the couriers with an isotope that would allow Croft to track them using a special detector that Inglorious could provide. But Croft had been warned that the couriers would only be carrying the data for 48 hours, so he had to find at least one of them in that time.

Croft wondered why Levi had used ten couriers, and why Croft would have to find the courier rather than the other way around, and why they would dump the information after 48 hours. "What aren't you telling me, Inglorious?" he asked.

It was then that Croft learned that the couriers didn't exactly know that they were couriers. They were Insects, who had actually SWALLOWED a data disk, wrapped in some confection that Levi had cooked up. He had evidently convinced a bunch of gullible Insect troopers on their way for duty on August that this latest treat must be swallowed to savor the full taste of it, and 48 hours was the amount of time the data would stay within their digestive track. Croft blanched at the thought of having to dissect one of those disgusting creatures. Why couldn't anything ever be easy?

Croft lurked in the vicinity of the spaceport, and immediately picked up a signal on his scanner. But he had no way of getting access to this particular Insect, who was staying well within the grounds of the spaceport. He waited a while, and then detected another Insect, heading away from the spaceport.

Undoubtedly part of a patrol. Perfect.

Croft and his men intercepted the patrol, with Red Sally flaming the column from the front and the Silencer and Croft gunning them down from the back. Sally and the Silencer had explicit orders to only aim for the heads.

In moments they had their pick of charred, headless Insects. Checking with his scanner, Croft searched for the right corpse. Sighing, he opened his laser scalpel. This would be disgusting, but necessary.

**********

"I hope you're happy," said Croft, leaving the data in the designated location in the undercity. "I don't think I'll eat for a week after this."

"Your assistance is vital to the war effort," said Mr. Towel soothingly.

"It would be more comforting if I knew exactly how vital," said Croft. "What use are shield schematics if we don't have a fleet to fight with?" He paused. "Do we have a fleet left to fight with?"

Mr. Towel ignored his question, asking one of his own. "I'm curious, however, how you got the shield information," he said.

"There were rumors that some of the fleet survived," said Croft, ignoring Mr. Towel's question. "Commanded by one War Admiral Norman North, I believed. But we've heard nothing from them since the early days of the invasion."

"You obviously didn't board the flagship again to get this information," said Mr. Towel, still sticking to his own line of inquiry.

"That's correct," said Croft. He grinned. "If I show you mine, will you show me yours?"

"You cannot see what I can show you, Clifford," said the voice sadly. "I'd love to meet you. You're one of the most entertaining humans I've ever met."

"So you're not human and you've met our kind before," said Croft. "Perhaps you're working with others of my kind, even now?"

"I can't reveal myself, Clifford. If others find out that I'm involved, the consequences would be disastrous."

"What others? Who?" said Croft. "Are you afraid of the Insects?"

"You don't understand, Clifford," said Mr. Towel. "I will keep in touch, supplying you with new missions as needed."

"Thanks for the generosity," said Croft sardonically. Then, after a silence, he said, "Are you still there? Towel Alien? Mr. T?"

**********

After securing the shield schematics, their next order of business was set by the Silencer himself.

"If your friend has so much access to information, he should be able to tell me where Annie is," said the Silencer tightly.

Messages were sent and received by Inglorious. It took a few days of back and forth before they were finally able to get a definitive answer for the Silencer: no.

"No? He can't?" said the Silencer, looking enraged. "He can get top secret shield schematics, but can't tell me where my wife is being held!"

"Let me explain," said Croft nervously. He had never seen the Silencer so angry before. Depressed, morose, yes, but not enraged, and there was no telling how the Silencer would react.

"What I heard through Inglorious was that the shield information, while classified, was available to a relatively large group of Insects. It would have to be, because Insect crews would have to know how to repair the shields when something went wrong. Levi tells me that most prisoner information is also available to a wide range of security clearance holders, and there is a file on your wife."

"Then why doesn't he access it?"

"Levi tells me that he did some snooping around first, and found that it was a dummy file, merely put there to identify the user who accessed it. He's really quite good with computers, you know," said Croft.

"Then why can't he find my wife?"

"Levi determined that your wife's real file has been transferred to the highest level access--only the Queen herself and her top security people can view it, and only then from secure terminals Levi doesn't even have access to, and with a level of security clearance that Levi simply doesn't have."

The Silencer said. "So that means we do nothing?"

Croft grabbed him by the shoulders. "That means we continue to fight. We'll beat the Insects, and when we do we'll find Annie."

"You don't know that," said the Silencer. "It might take years. It might take forever."

"I will do everything in my power to help you, John," said Croft.

The Silencer nodded, but he still looked miserable

********

Over the next few years the resistance grew in size and strength, buoyed by its initial successes. With Levi's help, they were not only able to locate key Insect installations, but learned where the Insect forces were being deployed, which they sent on to the resistance. Soon the Insects started to discover that they were becoming the hunted ones.

"Another blast rifle factory destroyed!" raged Queen Zsst, buzzing angrily at her advisors.

The door to her chambers opened and a hooded figure entered. "Is there a problem?" said the figure pleasantly.

"No... no problem," said Zsst hastily

"I've been hearing reports to the contrary," said the hooded figure, Baraki. "The humans are organizing and attacking like never before. And recently, it's become clear that they have top level access to your intelligence. They seem to know exactly what installations to hit. How are the humans gathering such detailed and voluminous information?"

Levi chose a poor moment to enter the Queen's chamber, bearing a tray of edibles.

"What is this human doing here?" said Baraki.

"It cooks," said Zsst. "It has a minor talent for producing edibles."

Levi felt a wave of fear fill him as bright eyes in the hood gazed at him with malice and understanding. "Yes. I have seen this one before."

"You were the one who suggested that we employ the humans in other capacities."

"Yes, I did," said Baraki quietly, still gazing at Levi, who felt his legs starting to wobble.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Zsst angrily to Levi. "Put the edibles down and leave. You're dismissed!"

Suddenly, as if a spell had been broken, Levi put the tray down and scampered for the door.

When he had gone, Baraki said, "This human. Do you keep it watched?"

"Constantly," assured the Queen. "Do you suspect it?"

"Probably not... but it may bear further watching," said Baraki. "I think it more likely that a third party is involved."

"A third party?"

"Your race, the humans, and my race are not the only ones in this galaxy," said Baraki. "There are others who may be sympathetic to the humans, who are working with them."

"What races might they be? And how could they get access to classified information?"

"Quite easily," said Baraki, answering the second question while ignoring the first. "But while they could slip by you undetected, I or others of my kind would notice them. I will send Rugani to investigate this possibility," he added, without elaborating further.

********

Croft woke up in the middle of the night to feel the ground around him shaking. "Not again," he groaned. He picked up one of his boots and threw it in a carefully planned trajectory.

"Ooof!" said the Clapper, as he jerked into awareness.

The tremors suddenly stopped.

"You were doing it again," said Croft.

"Sorry. Clap Clap!" The Clapper stopped clapping long enough to feel the heel imprint on his forehead.

Lately the Clapper had been using his powers unconsciously at night to cause the room around him to shake. This hadn't done anything to increase his popularity with Red Sally or the other soldiers. When he tried to ask the Clapper what was wrong, the Clapper merely looked dumbly at him, like a dog who wanted to please his master but didn't understand the language.

He had attempted to ask Mongo for help, but found him to be of no help.

"Bad nightmares, shake Mongo," said Mongo.

"Yes, but do you have any ideas what's causing these nightmares?"

"Mongo not know; Mongo reads futures, not minds. Did the Croft not know?"

"The Croft knew," Croft sighed. "But the Croft wonders if Mongo sees a future which explains Clapper's behavior."

"No, Mongo see no future for Clapper. Well, Mongo sees Clapper in futures, but in futures, all Clapper does is clap."

"Hardly surprising," said Croft. Then, before turning away, he said, "Do you see anything in your visions about a bright white sheet?"

"Bright white sheet?" said Mongo. "Shimmering, bright white sheet?"

"Yes."

"Shimmering bright white sheet that appears only in your mind?"

"Yes!" said Croft, getting excited. Now he was going to get some answers!

"No. Mongo sees nothing."

Croft was instantly deflated. "Then how did you-"

"Mongo saw future where Croft asks Mongo about sheet. That is all."

And that indeed was all. From time to time Mr. Towel came back to him, asking for favors. Oh, it wasn't a totally one way exchange; Towel Man would often offer valuable advice, intel that Levi didn't have access to. It made Croft wonder how Mr. Towel gathered his information; did he have other contacts like Croft that he worked with?

The Clapper wasn't the only one acting strangely. Sashay was also acting bizarrely too, spending his time making crazy paintings and then posting them in public places.

Croft didn't know it, but the origins of Sashays confusing behavior began during a routine shopping trip. Sashay, with a suitable military escort, had gone shopping for some supplies they didn't have at their latest hideout, when they decided to hide from an incoming Insect patrol in an old art museum.

But when they got inside, they had found it gutted. Not merely raided, but blasted to pieces, by the Insects.

"But it's only art," Sashay had said, feeling the tremendous loss. "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Hey, art boy, what are you going to do, attack them with a paint brush?" chuckled one of the accompanying soldiers. The others thought that was funny too, and they started laughing, at Sashay's expense.

Sashay's face had turned bright red with anger, but he had said nothing. For the rest of the trip he kept silent, the wheels rapidly turning in his head.

When they got back to their hideout, the first thing Sashay did was get some watercolors, a makeshift easel, and large poster paper. And then Sashay started painting like mad; not one painting, or two or five or ten, but nearly 30 paintings, hastily dashed off. They were all images of the ruined metropolis, images Sashay knew by memory.

But it was when Sashay started posting them on the surface, in very public areas, that he started raising eyebrows.

Croft took him aside. "What are you doing?"

"Making the city a more beautiful place," said Sashay.

"I think some of our troopers will beautify you if they find you placing those paintings near our bases of operation."

"I'll plant them at least a mile away from any of our hideouts," Sashay promised.

"So you would risk your life, risk being caught by an Insect patrol, just to spread your art?" said Croft.

"Yes," said Sashay.

Croft shook his head, realizing he probably couldn't stop Sashay even if he wanted to. "Just don't bring an Insect patrol back home to dinner with you."

And then there was another incident, the very next day; 20 pounds of explosives had disappeared from their supplies. The explosive had evidently disappeared during dinner, when everyone was eating.

But Croft, focused on conducting the campaign of the resistance, still didn't piece together this minor mystery.

But the Insects thought they had. An Insect named Plss was the intelligence officer for the brigade assigned to the region where Croft's fighters were most active. Plss was under heavy pressure to locate and destroy the rebels.

Plss accompanied her troops on patrol, scanning the burned out buildings. She actually walked by the first painting, posted to the wall, before realizing she had seen it several times before.

"Halt!" she buzzed the squad, and went back to the poster. These paintings were relatively new. They had been placed there.

Plss studied the paintings. They showed a scene, in the city. Looking more closely and taking a step back, she realized the scene that had been painted was this block. She looked at the painting again. The painting was almost uniformly in black; but part of it, to the left, was in red

Plss ordered the squad to turn left. Two blocks later, they found another painting.

Obviously, these were directions to a hidden rebel base! And they had been left right out in the open, the whole time! This was how the humans communicated with each other. Plss opened her comm and summoned the rest of her company.

It was almost nightfall before the troops had been gathered and they had reached the last painting. Their destination was an apparently abandoned warehouse. Readying their blast rifles, Plss gave the signal and her troops, 135 strong, rushed into the warehouse from three directions.

It was empty. Empty, that is, except for some boxes scattered around, and a large painting which stood in the center of the room.

Plss approached. She saw tiny lettering on the giant painting. She couldn't read it from a distance. She closed in, her troops around her. Walking forward, she approached the painting, walking close enough to see the lettering-

-when at that point she stepped on the pressure plate right in front of the painting, setting off the twenty pounds of high energy explosives that had been secreted around the room. Insect bodies went flying through the air, mashed against walls, many burning from the heat and flames of the explosion.....

The 29 troopers who managed to report back to base, some leaking circulatory fluid, reported that there hadn't been enough left of Plss to bring back for a funeral ceremony.

When Sashay heard reports of an explosion in a certain part of the city, he hummed a happy tune and smiled to himself, but that was all.

*********

Croft eventually solved the Clapper's problem upon further investigation. After enough nights of waking up to feeling the ground shake around him, Croft had a talk with him. "So what's going on?"

The Clapper shrugged.

"We have you sleeping in the left hand corner; you like sleeping in the left hand corner, right?"

The Clapper nodded.

"You're sleeping with your head by the wall like you always do, right?"

The Clapper nodded.

"And you're sleeping on the same kind of bedding you're-"

"Pardon me for interrupting," said Red Sally, looking half awake and half annoyed. "But also being unable to sleep, I thought I might make a contribution to this discussion. The Clapper is a creature of habit, right? Well, we've been moving around a lot lately, shifting from one hideaway to another-"

"And that's what's making him agitated?" said Croft. If so, what could they do to fix that?

The Clapper clapped.... which might mean anything.

"I'll fix things," said Sashay, who, like everyone else, had been awakened by the tremors. He got up, and grabbed his brushes and a fresh sheet of posterboard.

"You're going to fix things with a painting?" said Croft.

"I've done it before," said Sashay. "As my dear departed wife used to say, there's always a painting for every occasion." Hmming quietly, he painted away like a madman; a few minutes later he announced, "Done!" and set the painting down near the Clapper.

"Careful, it's not fully dry yet," Sashay warned.

"What is it?" said Croft, peering in the dim light. "It looks like a room of some kind."

The Clapper clapped with delight.

"It's the hideout we spent many months in, during our stay in Sarney Sarittenden," said Sashay. "For him, it's home."

"A large supply closet?" said Croft.

The Clapper clapped enthusiastically.

"When you get homesick, just stare at the painting until you fall asleep," said Sashay.

"I've never seen a painting that came with instructions before," said Red Sally.

"I can't believe any of this," said Croft. "A painting serving as therapy? Ridiculous!" He turned away and went back to bed.

But the next night, they knew immediately that Sashay's painting had worked--they stopped feeling the tremors.

**************

"So how are they doing, General?" Croft asked, watching the recruits going through an obstacle course.

"They are making progress," said Clay.

"Good. How would you rate them?"

"I would say the troops, and I use the term loosely, are... somewhat less pathetic than they once were."

"That's progress," said Croft.

Clay turned to Croft. "We're very lucky to have the intelligence you were able to provide us. But I am wondering, where does this intelligence come from?"