“Diary of Gottlieb Kober, June 24, 1954:
The first day of the race went poorly. In the first hour, we lost first place to a Ms. Parfit and were passed by Mrs. Dumont, as expected, as well as a damned horse. While we only needed to place within the top three positions in the race to get the wish, being passed by so many so early was a great embarrassment. An embarrassment I believe I took too personally. To make up for our lost position and retain our pride, I ordered a risky alteration to our charted course.
The original plan was to go towards the Pacific Ocean then pass between the Sierra Madre de Oaxaca and Sierra Madre de Chiapas mountains in Oaxaca. There, we would turn East and follow the edge of the mountain range until we arrived in Flores. The route was safe but was nearly 5300 kilometers in length which would take forty-two hours at cruising speed. With one position taken, a plane ahead of us, and who knows how many more competitors like the horse rider, two days was too much. Now, Vasilij said that Dumont's plane had been damaged, but I still find it difficult to trust him, even with our shared knowledge of. . . best to let that secret die with us. Regardless, the new route I selected would head South towards Las Vegas, then East to El Paso. We would then follow the Rio Grande until it reached the Gulf of Mexico. Afterward, we would head South-east to the Yucatan peninsula and then to Flores. This route was nearly 2000km and 15 hours shorter than the other but required a treacherous journey over rugged terrain. Terrain that would prove no obstacle for the Graf , so long as it produced no dangerous updrafts. In a long race such as this, saving fifteen hours early on, especially at great risk, is idiotic. However, if we wanted to win, we would have to catch up to Mrs. Dumont and Ms. Parfit and ensure they can never pass us again.
The ship’s captain cited his uncertainty of the safety of the new plan but made the changes as ordered. I would have reluctantly agreed with him, had I not . Strange, I am usually much better at keeping classified things classified. Perhaps the stress of this mission is altering my judgment?
Four hours later we found ourselves turning over the small town of Las Vegas. Just beyond the horizon of the city, a large mushroom cloud could be seen rising into the atmosphere, an all too common sight for this area.
Damn those Americans. Of all the peoples to discover that great power first, and what do they use it for? Tourism.
We continued our journey to the Rio Grande, and by the time we began following the river, I gave a final brief to the night flight crew and retired to my cabin.”
There, with that formality of my memoirs done, I can finally rest. And what a good time to do so as well. Flying over a river at night is hardly an extravagant view.
“Major Kober! Captain Wundt! Emergency in the gondola!” The broken electronic voice shouting from the ship’s intercom removed all drowsiness from my body.
Never a moment of quiet in these ships.
I hastily put on my boots, buttoned my shirt, threw my jacket over my shoulders, and made my way down to the gondola. When I arrived, the ship’s captain, dressed in his nightwear, was already deep in conversation with the crew inside the crowded room.
“What’s this issue Captain Wundt?” I asked as I climbed down the ladder.
“Hurricane sir. It formed early today and just made landfall in Mexico and is working its way up the Rio Grande. It doesn’t seem too bad right now, but the expected rainfall and winds could down our vessel.” The captain said as he waved for the crew to get in ready positions.
“That certainly is not good news, but. . .” I thought back to the ship wheel, we were safe, “Keep our heading. We cannot afford to lose any more time.”
“With all due respect sir, I know your job is to give orders and bring about victory, but mine is to ensure this ship and its crew stay alive. We’re turning around.”
“And head back to the Pacific and lose all this progress!?” I pulled my jacket tighter to my chest. It was dreadfully cold in here. The thin walls and windows did little more than stop the wind. Besides, a little shifting and my medals would be more visible. A reminder of my qualifications should shut him up for now.
The captain didn't even look at me as I shifted, instead ordering one of the crew to phone some number, “No sir. The winds are projected to reach here before we can leave. We’ll have to moor until the storm passes.”
“That will take even longer!”
“It will. And we’ll still be alive by the end of it.”
“Do you not care about our mission!” I could say nothing of the ship wheel to the captain or the crew. They wouldn’t understand such complex concepts. As a result, I was reduced to appearing a madman.
“I do sir, but I care more about my crew’s lives. Now, if you would like to help steer this ship you can stay," He turned to face me, and stepped away from the navigation equipment to sandwich me between him and the ladder, "If you want to tell me how to fly my ship, you can return to your cabin and shout at the wall. ALL HANDS, 180 TO STARBOARD!” The captain heeded me no more after that as he opened communications with a nearby town and set a course for the nearest mooring point.
I returned to my bed and fell asleep cursing the fool and our lost chance of victory. I awoke the next morning to find our ship attached to a small tower of metal scaffolding in the middle of a field as wind and rain battered the balloon.
That fool of a pilot is going to make us lose days for this? How will we ever make these back?
How indeed?
An unfamiliar man’s. . . no. . woman’s voice came from behind me. I turned to see its origin and was met with nothing but a shadow. A shadow in the vague suggestion of a human that was constantly growing and losing size and limbs.
Hello Major Kober. It seems that you are in need of some assistance.
In a panic, I drew my pistol but I kept my voice steady as best I could, “Assistance? From who?” The shadow surveyed my weapon, or at least, it moved in a way that suggested it had done so. This was clearly something related to items like the ship wheel and Vasilij's binocular. In that case. . . “How could you help me?”
I can’t help you, but I can give you some knowledge. For example: hold on.
As those words entered my ears, I felt the entire floor, no the entire ship, tilt upwards. It shifted and heaved until my glass on the table spilled atop my journal. I stumbled backward, but secured myself against one of the metal poles holding up my cabin's paper-thin walls. Within a minute, the ship was sitting vertically on its nose; meanwhile, the shadow stayed perfectly still with its feet hovering in the air as my bedding fell through its form. Another minute later, the ship began to level out as a second gust of wind pushed it down.
“What did you do!?” I shouted, clamoring to my feet and fixing my jacket's fit.
Once again, I did nothing. I only knew that your ship would rise due to the wind bringing it up to the cooler air. Much like how I know of a way to help you win this race.
“Win? This lost cause? How could a shadow do that?”
I am not a shadow. I am Silence, and I know of an item akin to your ship wheel.
So there's my artifact theory confirmed. Then what is she to them? Just a person who found one? An artefact with will, or at least greater will than most? Or. . . something no one's ever seen before and lived to speak its existence? Alright, Kober, time to flip this interrogation around.
“Intriguing offer, but why would you give this information to me for free?”
After centuries of observation, I have seen every type of person be born and die. You may think you are unique Major Kober, but I met men exactly like you countless times before. As a result, I know how any person will react to any normal stimuli; for example, I know you will accept my offer. But, I have only seen those like you in ordinary circumstances. I know not how you will react to receiving my help, or if you will fulfill your end of the agreement. And, lacking knowledge, having a mystery is the closest I can get to joy.
I don’t like how she said she knew I’d say yes, but. . . our current situation is desperate. Even a minor assurance of victory could go a long way.
“Alright, Silence, what is the item you are offering?”
I will only say after you agree to my terms. Do not worry, they are quite. . . convenient.
“And they are?” The shadow smiled, not a suggestion of a smile, a real genuine smile with frighteningly visible teeth.
Simple, I need you to attack someone. In fact, the people I need you to hurt are already on your list: The horserider, Ms. Lavaeu and Mr. Pinkerton. No need to kill them even, just have your sniper take a few shots and I’ll consider your end met.
Laveau?
I gave her offer a few moments of thought to ensure there wasn’t a trick hidden within it. She was correct in assuming I was planning on eliminating those two already even before knowing their names. And getting a powerful artefact as a reward for doing something I was going to do anyway was already a done deal. With the added offer of being rewarded just for trying there couldn’t be a trick worth answering “no”.
