Danilo Clementoni - Intersection With Nibiru

“Easy. Simply use another and shape it like a stopper.”

"What a fool I am. I hadn't thought of that,” said Jack giving himself a little slap on his forehead.

"What do you call these cute little things?" asked Elisa intrigued.

"On our planet they’re called Shans," Azakis answered while he again made the ball disappear and gave her back the little dark rectangle.

"So this is a little Shan," said Elisa smiling, holding it between her fingers, as she looked at it very closely. "Can I try to build something?"

“Well, it's not quite so simple. I can do it because I use my N^COM implant for its real-time programming. So, either I implant one in you too or you can use ...” He broke off and began rummaging in a small drawer on the side of the console. After a few seconds he took out a sort of helmet, very similar to the one they had previously used for breathing and, handing it to her, ended the sentence saying "this".

"Do I have to put it on my head?" asked Elisa, hesitating.

“Certainly.”

"This thing’s not going to blow my brains out, is it?"

Azakis smiled. He gently took her hands and helped her to position it correctly.

“And now?”

"Hold the Shan between your fingers and think of any object. Don't worry about size. It’s programmed not to turn into anything bigger than a cubic metre.”

Elisa closed her eyes and concentrated. After a few seconds, a fantastic three-arm silver candle holder materialised in her hands.

"My God," she exclaimed astonished. “It’s ludicrous. It’s incredible." Elisa could not control her emotions. She continued to turn the object over and over in her hands, analysing its every detail. "It’s exactly how I imagined it. It’s not possible, I must be dreaming."

Two large, open top Jeeps, coming from the direction of the Northern part of the city, each with three people on board, drew to a halt at the red light of a seemingly deserted crossing. They waited patiently for the green light and then carried on slowly for another twenty metres, until they reached the entrance of an old abandoned workshop.

A large, portly guy jumped down from the first of the two Jeeps and, armed with a pair of old shears, cautiously approached the entrance and cut the rusty wire holding the big door closed. Immediately behind him, another man jumped out of the second vehicle and joined him. He too was pretty big and heavyset. Together they tried to move the old panel that served as a front door. They struggled for quite a while and then, with a sinister metallic screech, the panel moved. They pushed it sideways with decision, completely flinging open the entrance.

The drivers of the two vehicles who had been waiting, one behind the other, with their engines idling, leaving a large cloud of black smoke behind them, drove into the old workshop and turned their vehicles off.

"Come on," said the one who seemed to be the boss, jumping down from the Jeep, followed by the other three. The two who had been at the entrance joined the little group and all six headed quietly towards the main entrance of the restaurant.

"You three, round the back,” ordered the boss.

All the members of the small assault team were equipped with AK-47 rifles and the typical curved sheaths of the Arab Janbiya knives were clearly visible, hanging from the belts of a couple of them. They weren't very long daggers but their sharp blades, on both sides, undoubtedly made them deadly weapons.

The restaurant owner, aware of the fact that at any moment his companions would appear, continually shuttled back and forth between the dining room and the back entrance, where he peered outside to check for any suspicious movements. His nervousness, however, did not go unnoticed by the General who, crafty old fox that he was, began to smell a rat and realise that something was not right. With the excuse of picking up the bottle of beer, he approached the big guy and whispered close to his ear, "Don't you think your friend is a little too nervous?"

“Actually, I’d noticed that as well,” answered the big guy, also whispering.

“How long have you known him? You don’t suppose he’s organising a nice little surprise for us, do you? "

"I wouldn't think so... he’s always been a dependable sort."

"Perhaps," said the General, rising quickly from his chair, "but I don't trust him at all. Let’s get out of here quick."

The other two looked at one another for a moment, perplexed, then they stood up too and quickly headed towards the owner.

"Thanks for everything," said the big guy, "but we really have to go now" and he shoved another hundred-dollar bill into his shirt pocket.

"But I haven't even brought your desserts,” answered the curly-haired man.

“Better that way, I'm on a diet,” said the fat guy and set off quickly towards the door. He peered out from behind the curtain and, not seeing anything unusual, motioned to the other two to follow him. He barely had time to cross the threshold when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the three bad guys approaching from his right.

“Bastard,” was all he managed to shout before the closest of the three, in very broken English, ordered him to stop. In response, he unhooked a stun grenade from his belt and turning to his companions yelled “Flashbang!”

The two immediately closed their eyes and covered their ears. A blinding flash of light, followed by a loud bang, shattered the quiet of the night. The three assailants, taken by surprise by the big guy’s move, were momentarily stunned by the explosion and the blinding flash from the grenade prevented them from seeing the three Americans as, with a burst worthy of a hundred-metre finish, they fled in the direction of their car.

"Fire," shouted the leader of the aggressors.

There was a burst of AK-47 in the fugitives’ direction but, as the effect of the flashbang had not yet vanished, it was lost high above their heads.

"Come on," cried the thin guy, taking his Beretta M9 out of the holster under his armpit and responding to the fire.

As he ran, the big guy had succeeded in removing the vehicle’s remote control from his jacket pocket and opening the rear tailgate. With an agile leap he threw himself inside it and grabbing one of the M-16 rifles that he always carried with him threw it to the General. He grabbed an FN P90 machine gun for himself and began firing in the direction of the assailants.

"Come on," he screamed at the thin guy who, keeping his head down, went straight towards the driver’s door. While his two friends covered him he climbed into the car. Another burst, from behind him, left a series of untidy holes in the sheet metal wall of the hut in front of him.

Meanwhile, the three aggressors who had gone around the back, emerged from the restaurant’s main door and joined their comrades in firing. Their aim was decidedly better. A bullet hit the left-hand rear-view mirror that splintered into a thousand pieces.

"Dammit," exclaimed the thin guy while, instinctively lowering his head, he tried to start the car.

“General, get in," cried the fat guy while firing off another burst in the direction of the assailants.

With the agility of a youngster, Campbell threw himself onto the back seat just as a bullet flew perilously close to his left leg and lodged itself in the open door. With a quick movement, he unhooked the back seat and managed to get into the luggage area. He immediately noticed a series of grenades arranged in a row inside a polystyrene container. Without stopping to think, he grabbed one and, after pulling out the fuse, hurled it in the direction of the assailants.