Chapter XVI

The young Koopa tapped his items of equipment in turn, pulled his pistol from its holster, checked his clip and reloaded it, pulled on his sleeves and leggings reassuringly, and waited for the truck to stop and its engine to cut out before he slipped out of the rear doors, closing them behind him. He stepped silently alongside the vehicle. Ark turned his head to watch Kampagnie clamber up the side of a dune to gain a viewpoint of the camp. He sat down on a wooden toolbox, took a sip of water from his cup, and then sullenly looked down into it as he rested it in his lap.

Lich leant back against a bench, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. This was one of what seemed to be rare moments when the only thing to do was wait, and it aggravated him. He wanted to get going, to get the B’ralku over the border and…well, go home, and live the rest of his life with his brother, obligation paid.

He looked at Ark, watching his fingers drum the side of the cup as his lips moved in contemplation. “I know; waiting sucks,” he spoke in their native Pandoran.

Ark sighed and shook his head, taking another mouthful of water. He stared blankly as he swallowed, and bowed his head once more.

“Tired?” Lich asked.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ark nodded without looking up.

Lich tilted his head. “What’s on your mind?”

His brother raised his face and stared back. “Is this my life, now?”

Lich blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. “What do you mean?”

With a shrug, Ark lowered his gaze to think for a moment, and stared again, more intensely. “Running around this planet and Fa’Diel with you, having to keep one step ahead of the KBT, sleeping with one eye open...” He lowered his head to think again as Lich watched silently, and raised it once more. “I’m a burden to you, aren’t I?”

“No, never,” Lich said automatically with a smile.

“Seriously, Dy.”

Lich frowned. “I wouldn’t be thinking like that at this time, if I were you.”

Ark threw his head back and sighed angrily. “I am, then,” he spoke, running his fingers down over his eyes and cheeks.

“No, no, no,” Lich said hurriedly, shaking his open hands. “Stop thinking that you are one, because you’re not. The worse you think of yourself, the more likely you are to die out here. If you want to think badly, let it wait until you get into safe territory. The back of a truck masquerading as Koopan Highway Patrol is not such a place.”

“What will be safe, then?” Ark snapped. “In the past three days, I’ve had some very harrowing experiences, like a long flight on the back of a…a…whatever you call Nessie, unprotected, when I’m afraid of heights, I’ve been shot at, kidnapped, poked and prodded, insulted, thrown up all over myse–”

“Hey, keep it quiet back there!” Kart snapped in Yoshian. “Do you want a passing car to hear you?”

Ark plopped his head into his hands. “Sorry,” he grumbled.

Lich crouched. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked, not unkindly.

Ark muttered.

“Pardon?”

He waved a hand dismissively.

The elder brother sat cross-legged. “I’m sorry to have got you into this, Ark.”

Ark remained unmoved.

“I know this must be all rather traumatic for you. I don’t know what’s been happening the past few months myself, and every time I close my eyes part of me keeps wondering if I’m going to wake up after a rather long dream. I should have left this longer, maybe even got some friends I know to help out – you’d like them – and…well, I trust you’d like them.”

He looked down for a moment. This was his brother who had been there for most of his childhood, until a wall of water robbed them of each other. He didn’t associate this gloom with Ark; he never had been.

“You’ve changed in these years.”

Ark sighed again. “Speak the obvious, why don’t you?”

Lich shook his head in defeat. “I mean…well, I suppose I was to expect a change, but…gragh, that’s just it, isn’t it? I’ve taken you out here expecting you to be the Ark I remember from our childhood, who’d light Dogo Tyrope’s hair on fire when he’d bully me, tag along with me, be generally cheerful–”

“And now I’m riddled with angst and stuck in mental adolescence,” Ark sighed. Lich opened his mouth to speak, but Ark continued, “You’ve changed too. You worry a lot.”

“With good reason,” Lich said, defensively.

“And this whole ‘Lich’ thing. You hated that name, Dy. Or should I call you Lich, now, anyway?”

“A Fa’Diel mouth makes me sound disrespectful.”

“It’s weird though. You seem…up tight about things.”

“Like staying alive in the Koopahari. But, Ark…” he paused as he tried to change the subject, “we’ve been through a lot recently and I don’t think I gave you or me enough recovery time from it. And now, here we are. Cekyura was right…this place is like quicksand. If only the Delfino option wasn’t the good and wrong option, and this wasn’t the bad and right one. I’m sorry.”

Ark sighed. “It’s alright. Can’t do much about it now. But apologising won’t make me feel any better, Dy. I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t know where I’m from. I have snatches of recollection, and…you’re right. Now’s not the time to think about it.”

“So that’s what Pandoran sounds like,” Kampagnie spoke suddenly, in Yoshian. “I’ve only ever seen it written. It doesn’t look beautiful, but it sounds it.”

Ark turned his head, startled by the intrusion. “How do you–”

Kampagnie closed the door behind him, the lock engaging, and brushed off some sand on his legs. “I’m a spy, remember,” he said, without much mirth, turning his head and making his way up to the front. “I see things.”

The engine fired up, causing the whole truck to rattle. Kampagnie grabbed the edge of a bench to steady himself, then kept going, broodingly.

Kart pulled a clipboard up from his chair. “So, what did you see, ‘Ran’gek’?”

“Three Koopas, two Mousers,” Kampagnie sighed in Koopan. “They looked like ‘Tox harvesters with another runaway family. Red, blue and yellow…no wonder they’d be interested.”

“Three Koopas, then,” Kart sighed, writing on the clipboard as the other Koopa sat down.

“Aren’t you going to do anything about it?” Lich asked. “That’s three shells less on the streets.”

Kart returned the clipboard and began to drive, ignoring him. He held up a hand, then grabbed the two-way radio and spoke into it, “TR2 to Talk’gu dispatch, over.”

“Proceed, TR2.”

“Camp located at Milepost T28, three Koopas, travelling by foot to Talk’gu, staying night. Nothing untoward to further report, over.”

“Thank you, TR2. Over and out.”

He replaced the handset, flicked switches, and brought it to his mouth once more. “‘Kart to base, come in.”

“The line is secure,” a new voice replied after a moment. “Proceed.”

“Camp at Milepost T28 on Rek’kango road, appears to be a family courted by ’Tox harvesters.”

“Did you get a description, Kart?”

“Kampagnie did, here he is.”

Ark leaned forward to Lich, who breathed a sigh of relief. “What’s going on?”

Lich nodded at the Koopas as Kampagnie began to rattle off the descriptions. “I saw a documentary on this, once,” he spoke quietly in Pandoran again. “You get Koopas trying to escape the Realm, and of course that’s a bad thing from Bowser’s perspective. The defences, checkpoints, all of that, is as much to keep us out as the Koopas in.”

“I wouldn’t want to live here, either,” Ark replied.

“Yeah,” Lich nodded. “Thing is though, a lot of people feel they don’t have that choice. Until one day, a Koopa goes through a village and talks to a few people and says that they can get them to the Kingdom or the Archipelago or anywhere that offers a better life. All they have to do is be at a certain place at a certain time, usually out of the way. Like what the three Koopas there are doing. And then the people smugglers turn up, and they try and convince them to leave, like what they’re doing now.”

“Which would be easy,” Ark added.

“Usually. The smugglers want danger money, so they have to fork out a lot of it. Once they have the money and the smugglers are paid, the smugglers take them near the border, and once there, they convince the Koopas that they’ll be able to get through the defences so long as they give up their shells.”

“That’s strange…wouldn’t shells help them get across?”

“I’d think so, too. What happens to the Koopa after they get the shell, though, is no longer their concern. All they wanted was the shell. The Koopas they’re ‘helping’ could get killed for all they care.”

Ark started. “Why?”

“You know how we can use Koopa shells, right?”

“Yeah…lot of things, depending on the colour. Is…is that where they come from?”

“Since the use of them without consent or tricking a Koopa into consenting is illegal these days, yeah, that’s the only way they come to the Archipelago. But that’s not all of it. Apart from it being too obvious if you’re suddenly flying or spitting podoboos, and shells being bulky to smuggle, all they want is the active ingredient that gives the shells their colour. Grind them down and mix it with some other stuff, and you get Chelokoopatox, or ’Tox as it’s called on the streets.”

“Drugs?”

“Yes. And what happens depends on the colour. Red makes you hot, blue makes you high, and yellow makes you heavy. Green adds bulk so they can sell more. The yellow stuff is particularly valuable because with a bigger dose than to just make you heavy, you hallucinate, and are hot and high as well. Or so I’ve been told.”

Ark smirked. “I was hoping you weren’t speaking out of personal experience. But, what’s the bad side to it?”

“Koopas lose their lives?”

“I mean, for us.”

“Well, the process to extract the colour makes the stuff addictive. It also eats your brain cells, and…well, I’m sure you could understand the effects of a red overdose on surrounding people and property. Not good at all. I assume these guys are doing something about it, like getting the smugglers arrested and the family extracted safely. Or, at least I hope so.”

“All sorted,” Kampagnie called back to them. “You can take it eas– ow! Talk about headlights!”

A bright white glow filled the truck as some sort of vehicle rounded a bend up ahead, the light too bright for them to work it out. The Yoshies turned their heads away while Kampagnie raised his arm to shield his eyes as Kart pulled over.

“Who drives through this part of the desert with their fog lamps on?” Kampagnie complained in Koopan.

“Let’s find out,” Kart answered, flicking a switch on the console. “Lay low, you two. I mean it.”

The two Yoshies lay down on the floor while the vehicle approached.

“Turn it off already!” the young Koopa moaned. “Can’t you see the lights are on?”

“Probably not,” Kart replied as he shielded his eyes with his hand, reaching to give the truck’s siren a short blast.

Lich closed his eyes and extended his ethereal hand. “Four of them and not slowing.”

“How’d you–”

“Shut up and get out!” Kart bellowed.

Kart flung himself out the truck door, Kampagnie not far behind.

Lich scrambled to his feet and looked to Ark, who returned his gaze with uncertainty. He reached down, grabbed him round the ribs and pulled. Ark snarled at the forceful message and Lich let go.

He turned to the door, pushed its handle down and shoulder-barged it, to no avail. He looked at the handle and shook it with a yell. Ark pushed him out of the way and smashed it with the Spear’s butt.

Lich regained his balance, swung the door open and leapt out.

The machine guns started firing.

Mixed in with the rat-a-tat-tat of the guns and the throaty scream of the car’s engine were the sounds of wood splintering, glass being punctured, ricochets, and the yell of an orange Yoshi as he flung himself onto the road’s verge. He bit his lip as exposed edges of rock dug into his skin. The last few bullets smacked into the truck’s heavy door, there was a shout faintly louder than the car engine, and the car began to pull to a halt.

Lich took a deep but painful breath with a wince, and clambered to his feet.

“Ark?” he called.

He could hear the car doors open as its occupants exited and started running towards them. There was no answer from his brother.

Lich turned towards their attackers. He could faintly see the four of them now; they were Koopas, though their black balaclavas masked the form of their heads. Their running slowed as they saw him; obviously, they were expecting dead Highway Patrolkoopas and not a tall scowling Yoshi awash in the truck’s taillights, exhaust smoke billowing around him, holding some sort of silver and gold weapon, like a gun.

“Stop!” their leader commanded. “Train him!”

He watched the Koopas form a loose arc and aim their machine guns at him, the leader second from the Yoshi’s left. Lich weighed up the situation. They had positioned themselves very well for them to be decapitated, but at this range, by the time he had readjusted his grip on the Boomerang and got into a throwing position, or even to make his shield, he would be dead. He could not fire its laser in quick enough succession, either – maybe he could get one, but not all four. That left bluffing his one way out, and he prayed it would work.

“If you want the Koopas, they’re gone,” Lich spoke, a little too nervously for his liking, but confidently. “We got here first.”

“We?” the leader replied, quizzically, waving his gun threateningly. “Are you a schizo or something?”

Lich narrowed his eyes and peered at the leader, ignoring his last remark. “That is, if you haven’t killed him, you bastard.”

The Koopa glared, then broke into a grin and relaxed, lowering his gun slightly. “I never knew my father, so you’re right, I’m a bastard –” he frowned and tightened his grip again, “– a cold bastard.”

“But are you as cold as me?” Lich replied, ignoring the urge to turn around and see that Ark was alright. “You didn’t expect a Yoshi to be so deep into Bowser’s Realm, did you? Robbing a Highway Patrol truck, did you?”

“Pfah, big deal. The Highway Patrol’s got nothing valuable. We’re just here to clean up the witnesses.”

Lich mulled over the Koopa’s line for half a second. Then he chuckled mirthlessly, closing his eyes. Ark was behind him and very much still alive. He lowered his head and shook it, letting his relief show as amusement. Kart and Kampagnie were off to his right, perched atop a small dune.

“Clean up the witnesses,” he said, raising his voice. “Want to know something?”

“No, but humour me.”

Lich raised his head and glared at the leader. Here goes nothing, he thought, and flashed a grin.

“So are we.”

He let his thumb slip across his Boomerang’s jewel as he rolled off to one side. Two shots sounded off to his right a split second later.

Lich started spinning the Boomerang into its shield as he got back into a crouch. Through the cyan glow, he could see the leader nursing a laser wound in his shooting arm as he lay in a foetal position. However, the two Koopas on the outside of their configuration staggered, legs then body collapsing beneath their shot-through heads.

The last Koopa stood in shock. He looked to his fallen comrades, then to the leader, back at the car, back to the wounded leader, and then the car again. He turned and started to run.

The Mana shifted, and a series of fireballs shot into the Koopa. As he fell, another bullet skimmed over the top of his head.

The leader flinched and cried out, struggling to get to his feet without the proper use of his arms. He chuckled evilly as he got into a kneel. “You’re orange, aren’t you?” he hissed. “The KBT’s paying 1,500 Coins for any information about orange Yoshies. That’ll get this wound treated and leave enough for heaps on the side.”

“Really,” Lich snarled. “Tell them this.”

The Koopa slumped, now sporting a laser wound between the eyes. Lich kicked the dirt and growled. How many was that now? How many was he responsible for? He looked skywards and muttered angrily, “You wanted this anguish, didn’t you, Tob?”

He looked back down and saw Kart kneel beside the Koopa who tried to run away. He looked at each side of the corpse’s head, checked and rechecked. He then turned his head towards the Yoshies. “Who killed this one?”

“Me, why?” Ark asked as he hopped out of the truck.

Kart flinched and got up. “They’re going to see how he’s been killed,” he replied, irritated.

“They?”

“The KBT,” Kampagnie moaned woefully from the verge. “I knew it – I knew you guys were a bad omen!”

“Kam’, deep breaths, count to ten, one, two, three…” Kart said in Koopan, with some compassion in his voice. He then spoke to Lich in Yoshian, “I thank you for saving our lives with your Fa’Diel skills, and I’m sure Kampagnie will too once he calms down. Now, we’ve got to move. Anyone who sees this will report it to the KBT, and they’ll swarm all over here.”

He curled a claw and bit it as he looked around him quickly.

“We could steal that car and make it look like they killed you two,” Ark suggested, pointing to the Koopas the Yoshies had shot. “Swap their clothes.”

“They…they need to look like the bandits shot them,” Kampagnie called. “The KBT’s forensics will work out trajectories and stuff like that…oh, this is all my fault…”

“Kam’,” Kart spoke kindly, shooting him a concerned face.

“I think the Harvesters saw me and they sent these guys after us,” Kampagnie trailed off.

“Never mind that,” his partner replied. “The KBT’s going to find out something’s afoot here, no matter what. Casings are all in the wrong place, my bullet’s somewhere over there. We just have to get rid of any ties to the KIA. Blow up the truck.”

“Throw those two we shot in there,” Lich added. “Dress them in your uniform and shoot them in the head.”

Kart clapped his hands. “Excellent. Kam’, get our casings from up there. Ark, start undressing this one while Kampagnie’s busy.” Kart removed his sleeves. “Lich, change the one near you. Go go go!”

Lich pulled off the bandit’s sleeves, shoes and leggings, then removed the shell. He quickly looked upwards as he did it. “Tough commando,” Lich sighed.

He felt awful, having shot this Koopa and now completely disrobing him. Surely, he didn’t deserve this disrespect.

“Here,” Kart said, giving the Yoshi his old shell and his sleeves. “Ark, there’s a box with disposable gloves in the first drawer on the left. Bring the box.”

Lich quickly dressed the bandit leader up in Kart’s shell and uniform. By the time he had finished, Ark returned with the gloves. Dressed in his underwear, he donned the gloves and gave the Koopa a few final touches with the right placement for his belt and putting his identity tags in the right places.

“Right, stand back, both of you,” he commanded.

He put the Koopa into a kowtow and shot him through the back of his head. He then looked to the other Koopa and repeated the process. “Right. Help me chuck them in the back. Kam’, see if they’ve got any fuelcans and get me one.”

Kampagnie ran to the car as Kart gave the Yoshies gloves; they didn’t fit well, but they were better than nothing. Kart got into the back of the truck, moved the concealing shelves over the manhole, and dragged the fake Patrolkoopas in as Lich and Ark handed them to him. His partner returned with a jerry can, and handed it to Kart.

“You three, get in the car. Kam’, drive it up past the truck. I’ll be there in a minute. Leave my change of clothes just there,” he pointed at the ground.

He went down the truck and sat in the driver’s seat. He checked the switches, and then held the radio to his mouth for the last time.

“Kart to base, come in,” he reported.

“The line is secure,” the voice answered. “Proceed.”

“TR2 has been attacked by bandits in a drive-by. All occupants present and accounted for, no medical assistance required. All bandits are down and accounted for. The four of us will use the bandit’s vehicle to complete the mission and return via Boz’ulk. Commencing mitigation, ETA back at base tomorrow morning, 0900 hours. Kart over and out.”

He returned the radio, patted the truck’s dashboard fondly, and started pouring the fuel everywhere, especially over the front area. Once he got to the back, he opened a drawer and gently placed its contents on the back step, then finished off splattering the can’s contents. He jumped out, threw the can in, disrobed, threw his fuel- and blood-spattered underwear and gloves in, changed into the bandit’s clothes and shell (a tight fit), and then picked up the drawer’s contents.

“You’d better work,” he spoke to the mechanised Bob-omb, inserted the key, turned it a number of times, threw it in and ran towards where Kampagnie had parked the car, ignoring the stinging on his skin.

He leapt into the passenger’s door. “Let’s go,” he spoke, as fireworks lit up the sky behind them.