Deathcraft

Barren land covered entire continents. There was little natural wildlife on the planet, the unnatural ones had killed them all. Man had killed them with his wars and his lust. His mind was wandering again. He told himself to pay more attention to what was at hand, than to what his so called brothers had done years earlier. He needed to get close to the General. Close enough to kill him, anyway, and that didn't have to be too close in these days of labour saving devices. But Orlok didn't like using bombs or missiles unless he had no option.

His transport was cleverly disguised as a car. Well, it actually was a car, albeit a flying one. It was half-buried under the erratically shifting sand dunes. After checking that all was as he had left it, Orlok opened the door with difficulty and eased himself into the driver's seat. There was just enough room among the sophisticated equipment, computers and sensors arrays behind the pilots seat for him to place the rifle in its rack, the pistol was placed on a magnetic pad on the dash for easy access. The blinking green light on the console finally caught his attention. Someone had tried to contact him while he was away. They had waited this long, they could wait till after he dined. He opened a can of ham, and activated a can of coffee, heating and opening it simultaneously. They tasted gastronomic. A check of the onboard monitor, more powerful and accurate than the hand-held one, revealed nothing in the area. Orlok retrieved the frequency of the incoming message from the radio's memory and set his transmitter to it.

"Caretaker here," Orlok said, using his operational code name. The static crackled and he waited. Only someone in the Company would know his codename for the present operation. Even if someone decoded his transmission, a name would not do them any good. Still, Orlok wondered why the Company would want to contact him before the operation was completed. The waiting entered it's second minute and he became dangerously comfortable in the cool interior of the car. Dragging himself out of his laziness, he placed his thumb on the print-reader and the powerful engine started.

"Caretaker, this is Albert. It's bedtime," a faceless voice said.

'Bedtime', the codeword for 'come home'. This show was over before he was finished. 'Albert', codeword for priority one, message to be executed immediately.

Once the engine was up to optimum power, the mini-nuclear reactor took over and the pitch of the engines changed, becoming almost silent. Orlok was reminded of the power of the beast he had mounted and gently let it pull itself free of the sand dune When he had finished shifting around in the driver's seat, making himself more comfortable, Orlok allowed the wheel-less car to turn to the east and raise itself several feet from the ground. Then, opening the throttle with his left hand on the collective and his right around the joystick, he sped forward and upward. The vehicle looked for all the world like a flying sleek sports car (minus the wheels). Anti-gravity engines still had a long way to go, but if they could make a car like this fly, then they had really achieved something in Orlok's opinion. As he flew over the plains and hills Orlok admired the morbid beauty of the land but he was glad to be away. Still he did not like leaving an assignment even if it had turned awkward.

It must be Tuesday.