by DMJ Aurini
“I’m Wentworth.”
“Ah... I see. Is Raxx in then?”
“No.
“…oh, well… Well then…” his eyes darted to the room, as if he thought Wentworth might be lying and that Raxx would be hiding in plain sight. Or maybe he was just seeking a way to escape the situation. Wentworth sighed mentally. Hassling the messenger was pointless, and besides, he probably had Vince to thank for this sudden interest in him – either that or Raxx was in trouble. He might as well find out exactly why the local Officials were feeling inquisitive.
“Raxx isn’t here, but I am. What is it you want?”
With Wentworth’s prompting, the clerk seemed to regain his pretension. “Ahem – the Mayor has sent me to request you attend his audience at the earliest convenience. If possible I am to escort you to City Hall immediately.”
“And why does he want to see us?”
“I am not full privy to that, but I believe it’s relating to an opportunity for employment. For the two of you.”
“Huh. Well, I guess I can see your Mayor right now, but I have no idea where Raxx is. If I like what I hear, I’ll pass it on to him later. How’s that sound?”
“That will be fine, sir. I shall escort you as soon as you are ready.”
The man was now eagerly polite, but his attitude was still annoying. Wentworth tuned him out on the walk over. A storm was moving in from the west, and the air was heavy. Underneath his jacket he was sweating and the humidity made his skin itch. The air had a metallic taste to it.
Jared took him to the town square. City Hall, it seemed, was in the library on the north side. The exterior wall was a series of large glass windows, still intact but filthy from the dust kicked up by the caravans. The walls were made out of the pebbled-concrete material common in old government structures throughout the region. After they entered Jared told Wentworth to wait in the lobby while he checked if the Mayor was free.
There was a secretary on Wentworth’s left, who observed him curiously, and a pair of doors on his right. Jared went through the further one. There were several chairs along one wall showing signs of wear, and a fake plant in semi-decent condition. He backed up against one of the walls, and crossed his arms.
At the back of the room was a set of glass doors which opened up onto the library proper; the area he was in was just some sort of foyer. Through them he could see a counter – the checkout desk. It was manned and the activity he saw showed that the library was still in operation. He guessed that City Hall shared the building for archival reasons.
After a short time Jared returned and indicated for Wentworth to go in. The Mayor’s office was smaller than he’d expected. It contained the Mayor’s desk, coated with a fake chestnut veneer, and a green filing cabinet. There were a couple of chairs for guests, and a real potted plant in one corner. Over the beige textured wallpaper hung paintings of boating scenes.
The mayor was an older man, hair greying, with thick-lensed glasses. He was wearing a sweater with a diamond pattern knitted into it; distinctly unstylish for Hope. To his right was a woman in her early thirties, with black hair and stern features. She wore a blue uniform with a kevlar vest, a utility belt, and an officer’s cap with a double gold braid going along the brim. Her bearing made it seem as if she was standing at attention, though she wasn’t. On her left hip was a semi-automatic pistol. Wentworth walked in and stopped at the desk.
“Welcome,” said the Mayor, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m William Talbot, Mayor of Hope. This,” he indicated the woman standing next to him, “is Patricia O’Neil, Captain of the Constabulary.”
Wentworth shook the Mayor’s offered hand. He seemed anxious, the skin at the outside of his eyes was crinkling, but the woman was cold. He could tell that she didn’t care for his presence, but aside from that her face gave little away. Wentworth steeled his features, and slouched down in one of the chairs, crossing one leg over the other.
“Pleased to meet you. So why did you want to see me?”
The mayor’s face took on a businesslike expression as he leaned forward. “I wanted to see you and your friend Raxx about a situation which the city has run into. Jared explained to me that Raxx was unavailable, but that’s okay for now. Before I get to that, however, I want to confirm a few things I’ve heard about you. I hope you don’t mind? I just need to make sure that I’m dealing with the right sort of person. I understand you dealt with a banditry problem some ways east of here, town by the name of, uh–” he pretended to consult the papers on his desk, “by the name of Blackstock, yes?”
“If you’ve been talking with Vince he may have been exaggerating. But yes, Raxx and I dealt with the banditry there.”
“I just want to be clear, by ‘dealt with’ you mean…”
“That they’re all dead.”
“Ah. Yes. That would be consistent with the rumours I’ve heard about a ‘Wentworth’ from out East, wouldn’t it?”
“I couldn’t say. I haven’t heard them. But rumours gotta start somewhere, I guess.”
“Indeed,” the Mayor shuffled his papers and looked over at the Captain, “Patricia?”
She cleared her throat, “I understand that the two of you have a drinking problem?”
Wentworth stared at her for a few seconds. “So you’ve been following us around since we got here?”
“It’s standard operating procedure to keep track of foreigners who like to drink.”
“Then I guess our habit’s been employing twice as many people as I might of guessed. You should know that we didn’t start any fights, and that we paid for everything we drank. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem is that, should you be hired, it will be a position of trust – we’d be putting the City on your shoulders. We don’t need a couple of drunks screwing it up, and leaving us in a worse mess than the one we’re in now. This is a sensitive job, and it demands somebody with a stable head. I’m not okay with my constables showing up hung over, and the same standards would apply to you.”
Her pretence of keeping the emotion out of her voice had given him a facial tick.
“O’Neil – first of all, you came to me with this job – not the other way around. I don’t even know what it is yet. So don’t chastise me because I’ve been spending money at your bars. And second – does your report tell you the aftermath in Blackstock? Yeah, we took out the slavers, but we were too late. The shit heads were living in a warehouse full of radioactive waste. We got to watch the whole damned town die of radiation sickness–”
Somehow he’d ended up leaning forward in his chair, engaged in a staring contest with the Captain. He forced himself to sit back, stretching out a kink in his neck. “So yeah, we were drinking. We overdid it. But we don’t have a problem. Does that answer your question?”
The Captain stared at him, her cheeks flushed. Wentworth matched her gaze, annoyed with himself, and the Mayor’s bemused expression. The Captain eyes flickered as she came to a decision. She looked down at the Mayor and nodded once. Wentworth toned down the glare, and waited to see what the Mayor would say next.
If she could piss him off so quickly, it probably meant that she was a good Captain.
“I’m glad to hear that Captain O’Neil approves of you.” He shuffled his papers out of habit, “The situation is this; as I’m sure you realize, the gated area which encompasses Hope doesn’t contain enough area to grow food for the population, and there are no ploughed fields nearby. You see,” he placed his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers together, “Hope was founded as a partnership between urban refugees from the south and the local Mennite population, who have lived a rural lifestyle for generations. Our urban ancestors weren’t used to the same simplicity as the Mennites; and the Mennites, despite their ways, sill required the occasional product which only a city could provide; textiles, medical supplies, those sorts of things. I tell you this so that you understand how the two communities have come to rely upon each other. We
provide an urban core which supplies the Mennites with the bits of tech they use, and they in turn provide us with a food supply from their many outlying farms. Anything that prevents them from farming directly affects us, so they are our concern even if they aren’t under our jurisdiction.
“Therein lies the nut of our problem: for some time the Mennites have been suffering at the hands of local bandits. We believe this group started off small a couple years back: theft and vandalism, that sort of thing, none of it amounting to any great effect. But as time passed they’ve gotten worse. They’ve upped their trouble making to raiding and murder; worse, their numbers seem to be growing. It’s beginning to have an impact on the crops shipped into Hope. The Mennites refuse to do anything about it because of a philosophy of pacifism and just last week – Patricia, this is yours to tell.”
“An entire squad of my men were killed, along with a damn good Sergeant. They were escorting a petroleum shipment en route to our generating station north of town. Families are grieving. We think it was the same group.”
Wentworth nodded, “I’m sorry to hear that. But why don’t you take care of them yourselves? I’ve seen the Constabulary around town; you’re well-armed, and it looks like there are enough of you.”
She shook her head, “The problem is the Mennites. They follow an old mysticism where they’re not allowed to respond to violence. ‘Turning the other cheek’ I think they call it. They view this Situation as a test from their god, some sort of trial. The idea’s gained momentum to the point where they won’t let us intervene.” She clenched her jaw. “If my Constabulary were to take action against these… individuals, in anything other than self-defence, they’ve threatened to cut off food supplies all together.”
Wentworth raised his eyebrows, “I thought you said they were against violence?”
She snorted, “I guess their god doesn’t mind them killing innocent people as much as it minds them killing criminal scum.”
“Patricia; we’re all upset by the loss of life. Nobody’s happy that the Mennites are being so… unreasonable. But that is the situation we have to deal with.” He turned to Wentworth. “You can see that our hands are tied, but a free agent might be able to… ‘resolve’ things. So what do you think, Mister Wentworth?”
“Just Wentworth.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, and thought for a second, “So you want us to take out these bandits for you. Alright, I have two questions: first of all, how many of them are there? There are only two of us. And second, what’s the pay? Despite what you may have heard, we don’t work for free; that was a special situation.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the Mayor nodded, “There’s about twenty or thirty of them we believe. That’s about what you dealt with last time, wasn’t it?” Wentworth nodded, amazed that this man thought that thirty was a reasonable number of bandits for him to deal with. The Mayor took a piece of paper and wrote a price on it. “We hope that you’ll find this to be an acceptable amount. There will, of course, be a more thorough briefing if you choose to accept the commission.” It was nearly double the figure Vince had mentioned last night. Despite his better nature, Wentworth’s heart started beating faster and his brow got sweaty. It was a lot of money.
After looking at the paper he nodded, “All I can say right now is a maybe. That I’m considering it. It’s a probable maybe, but I need to speak with Raxx about this first. I’ll try to get back to you within the day, or tomorrow at the latest. Okay?”
The Mayor smiled, relief showing on his face, “That will be fine, of course you’ll want to talk it over, we didn’t expect you to make a decision on the spot. But please, if you decide you’re not interested in the offer come and see us to tell us that, because then we’ll need to find some other solution.”
Wentworth agreed to that and stood up. The Mayor insisted on shaking hands, and the Captain joined him this time. Her grip was firm.
Patricia waited until he’d left, then turned to the Mayor, abandoning her formal pose. “I still don’t like it, sir, dealing with mercs. Especially with that guy’s rep. Vince is the only one who’s said anything remotely positive about him.”
“You vetted him.”
“Yes sir. I hope I didn’t make a mistake… but I’ve seen some things, too.”
Talbot raised an eyebrow, causing her to break out in a dark blush.
“I don’t know why I let him get under my skin like that.”
Talbot smiled wryly, “That’s fine, Captain, You’re not here for your passivity. Just remember what I said, even if the worst rumours about him are true it’s better to have him on our side than anywhere else. Hopefully our impressions just now weren’t mistaken. If these two don’t take on the bounty I don’t know what we’ll do. Sending the Constabulary against Slayer and his men the way you wanted to would just make the situation worse than it already is.”
“Well, sir, I guess we’ll see.”
* * *
As Wentworth stepped out into the plaza a ray of sunshine peeked out behind the clouds. It was still muggy, but the light managed to bring some cheer to the square. He had no idea where Raxx might be so he decided to get a cup of coffee and a snack from one of the vendors. He felt good. He had a mission. The money problem had been pushed to the back of his mind.
After getting his drink and adding condiments to the hotdog he settled into people-watching. There was less traffic than the day before, but the local children were dauntless. A game of kickball was being played in the north side of the plaza. Running and jumping along with the children he saw Raxx, the man had a maniacal grin on his face. He stopped to watch from a distance while he ate his dog.
Raxx’s height made him lope about like an ape, and he was playing the fool for the children’s amusement. He chased the ball with a wide gait, arms outstretched. When he got to it he picked it up, looked both ways, and then bounced it off of his forehead to the other team. As he stood there Wentworth noticed a couple of women standing to the side, watching the man’s antics. They were smiling and whispering back and forth to one another. When he turned his attention back to Raxx the man was now chasing some of children, arms outstretched, letting out a growl. When he stopped chasing them the children remustered and started running back towards him. Raxx let out a shriek, and started running away. Wentworth burst out in laughter.
Eventually Raxx disengaged from the children who went back to their ball game, and the two women who’d been watching moved over to speak to him. Wentworth turned away, towards the market stalls.
Idly he browsed the booths, not really interested in produce or knick-knacks. He was slowly going around when something caught his eye at a florist’s cart.
“Hello sir,” said the fifteen year old almond-eyed girl working the cart, “Would you like to buy some of our pretty flowers?”
“This one right here . . . what do you call it?”
“That’s a twice-kissed rose,” the flower he was pointing at was clearly related to the standard rose, deep red in colour and symmetrical, but where the stamen and pistils should be was another stem leading up to a second, slightly smaller, flower. “They’re Hope’s official flower - you won’t find them anywhere else! They’re for when you feel a very deep love of somebody! …would you like a bouquet sir?”
“Just the one, if that’s all right. Mind if I ask how it germinates? The top flower doesn’t look to be fully mature.”
The girl shook her head from side to side, “No, these flowers can’t germinate, they’re very special,” she began to package a single rose for him, “My family, we grow these flowers from cuttings. Maybe you’ll see other flowers like this growing wild, but they’re not as perfect all around and beautiful as this one, see?” She demonstrated the petals. “Here you go! Enjoy!”
A short time later Raxx found Wentworth sitting on the same bench they’d been at the day before, examining the flower he’d bought, and wondering at the hidden dampness in the girl’s eyes.
“Hey man.”
“H
ey. Got some admirers?”
“What? Oh, heh, I guess so. Their names are Sherry and Michelle. What’s with the flower?”
He handed it over, “Check this out; instead of sex organs another rose is growing out of it. Apparently they grow it from cuttings of the original plant, since it can’t reproduce. I’m not sure if it’s horrible or beautiful. Both, maybe.”
“Huh. Neat.” He sat down, idly examining the flower. Its mutation didn’t seem to interest him.
“So I had an interesting offer today that I need to tell you about.” Wentworth explained to Raxx his encounter with the Mayor and the Captain, and the details surrounding the bandits. “I told them that I need to talk to you before I could give them an answer. So? What do you think?”
“Hmm,” he rubbed his goatee, “Why don’t you tell me what you think first?”
“Well, first of all I won’t do it if you’re not up for it. Having backup doesn’t double your chances, it squares them. On my own it would be a no-go, but with you I think we might make out alright, after we got more details, of course. You did well at Blackstock. You took to it naturally.”
He shrugged, “It’s all pretty basic stuff, really.”
“Theory and practice are two different things. That wasn’t empty praise. Second, I think the price they’re willing to pay is pretty damned good. Someone’s gonna get paid to take out the trash; it might as well be us. We should at least scout it out, assess the situation, and then we can decide if we still want to deal with it. With the last operation you know I didn’t take any chances – well, I did, but there wasn’t much choice. This time there wouldn’t be any pressure. I’m not going to get either of us shot. So, yeah – I think it’d be a good go.”
Raxx nodded to this, “You’re one ballsy motherfucker aren’t you? Well, tell you what, count me in. I’m up for it. Hey, the ladies love a hero, right?”