Wiping the rain from his eyes as he walked along the slippery deck, he glanced over at the deserted pontoon and quayside, hoping that it would remain that way. Reaching the back of the boat, he lifted the hatch that covered the entrance to the engine room, and mindfully climbed down the old wooden ladder. Closing the hatch behind him, he flicked a switch on the wall and watched a tiny bulb to his right buzz into life. Strolling across the enclosed space, careful to avoid getting any oil or grease from the exposed machinery on his fashionable jeans and sweatshirt, he reached up and carefully pulled down the faded, black wetsuit and scuba gear that hung on the wall. Much as he knew how to use them, they would only slow him down tonight, and in any case they were more for show than anything else. Part of his cover at the moment was having a history full of diving experience. It would look pretty odd to the authorities if he was boarded and they discovered there was no diving gear aboard at all. Moving the gear from the wall into the far corner only a few feet away, he turned his attention to the oil stained, faded white wall behind where the diving gear had hung. Pressing each thumb to oil stains about two feet apart, he moved them along both stains simultaneously, one going up, one going across, all the time pressing firmly against the wall. A tiny click, followed by a low sounding rush of air, preceded an invisible panel sliding out from the filthy wall, revealing a small, cushioned compartment. Reaching in, he pulled out a small metallic box, clear on one side, red numbers visibly counting down. Touching the end of the panel that had slid out he watched it dart back into place, hiding in plain view. Gathering up the box, he thought momentarily about replacing the scuba gear and wetsuit on the wall, but knowing that time was now of the essence, he decided against it. In the cramped cubicle he stripped off all his clothes and placed them atop the wetsuit. Flicking off the light switch, he climbed the ladder in the dark, all the time clutching the oh so important box. Taking a moment to listen for anything unusual outside, quietly he lifted open the hatch above him and poked his head out to look around. With the coast clear, he vaulted up the last two steps onto the rain soaked deck, his naked body remaining entirely in the shadows. With a firm grip on the box, and a last check to make sure no one was watching, he sprinted over to the rail and dived head first over it into the freezing water.
Sub-zero sea water assaulted every pore of his naked body in the murky, lightless ocean, as he swam deeper into it. Reluctantly, he released his grip on the box, watching it tumble away towards the hidden depths, the bright red numbers shining for mere moments before becoming obscured by the dark, muddy waters.
Pulling his mind away from the pain cloying at his misshapen body, he sought out the necessary bonds that held his DNA in place, releasing them, feeling the rush from the change that followed. His awkward, human shaped body shimmered like a school of fish under attack as the genetic material inside him looked to find its true form. In mere moments, it had. Awkward turned to sleek, sleek like a... naga. Gills pumped as he torpedoed his way through the water towards the very valuable box, which had not quite reached the bottom. Senses dampened down when he was in human form kicked in with a vengeance, allowing him to know exactly where the box was in relation to everything in the ocean, for miles around. Two feet before tumbling to the rocky bottom below the pier, the pale green naga swept in and grabbed the water resistant case that held doom and destruction for so many.
Swimming like a menacing eel in and out of the limpet encrusted pylons that supported the pier, he searched with his fishlike senses for the perfect place to plant the ticking time bomb, knowing that if he found the right one, it would be all but impossible for anyone but another naga to stumble across it. Ten minutes later, he had it. Inside a long slender recess that wove up beneath the pier and had a tiny air pocket halfway along, he found an uneven concrete ledge, which he deemed perfect for his purposes. Propping the box up so that it remained out of the water, he swam back to the ocean bed, gathered up some weed, which he draped over the box, to disguise it in the unlikely event that anyone should actually find themselves in the claustrophobic recess. Happy with his night's work, he headed back towards the boat, considering a celebratory swim, letting loose all his natural instincts. It took him only a split second to decide not to. After all, he was a consummate professional and knew that deviating at all from the plan could have unexpected and maybe even fatal consequences. Unhurriedly, he swam back to the boat, and just as he could make out the street lamps of the pier from beneath the surface, he triggered the same bonds within him that he had earlier, only this time it was anything but a natural regression. He had to really concentrate, forcing the DNA to do his bidding, unlike the ebbing and flowing that had taken place only minutes earlier. When the human form had settled into place, he broke the surface and quietly gulped in large mouthfuls of air. Swimming noiselessly to the aft of the boat, he climbed the steps leading out of the water, and using the shadows for cover, slinked over to the hatch and made his way once more down inside, before closing the cover, safe in the knowledge that he'd completed another task, another task in a long line of tasks that would eventually free his leader, or at least that's what he'd been led to believe. Happy he'd planned everything down to the final detail, it was only when he flicked on the light that he discovered he'd left out one very important thing... to bring a towel. Dripping wet and shivering insanely, he snorted with laughter at his own inadequacy, long into the remaining night.
* * *
In the small village of Wang Chan, Thailand, a local cattle herder stopped along the edge of a disused paddy field, gently placing his bike on the ground, before retrieving a badly wrapped parcel from the back of it. A tattered string encompassed the torn, faded paper that covered whatever was inside, many times over. Desperately wanting to unwrap the parcel and check out the contents for himself, the trader who had given it to him, along with more money than he would normally earn in two years, had been quite specific. It wasn't under any circumstances to be unwrapped, and if by any chance that happened, some very bad people would know about it and come looking for him and his family. Pushing his curiosity aside, the herder waded out towards the centre of the paddy field, mindful of the fact that he knew the area to be riddled with snakes. Going as far as he dared, he dropped the parcel into the water and watched as tiny bubbles floated to the surface all around it as it sank to the bottom, before quickly wading back towards his bike. As he swashed through the warm water, he could just make out some of the workmen hanging from a giant crane in the distance, putting the finishing touches to the nearly completed industrial facility that would shortly be opening. Many of the villagers were ecstatic about the complex, particularly those who had gained employment there, but he wasn't one of them. As far as he was concerned, the whole fabric of the area had been ruined by it. His beasts were often frightened by the loud noises from the construction that seemed to go on around the clock, and it clogged up the once beautiful landscape that had dominated for millennia. Every night, just before he got into bed, he cursed that dreaded Cropptech and everything the industrial complex stood for.