The Renegade

by P. M. Johnson

  “I wouldn’t call it much of a sacrifice. I got to fly the Drake, the most advanced gunship any human has ever seen. And my career in the League Defense Force wasn’t going anywhere. My mouth was always getting me into trouble.”

  Lena smiled. Cap had never been one to keep his opinion to himself. She sometimes wondered if his penchant for landing in trouble was intentional, at least on some subconscious level, in order to ensure he would never be promoted out of the cockpit. It wasn’t that he lacked ambition; he frequently declared, without irony, that he was the best pilot in the galaxy. It was just that he didn’t equate promotion or recognition with happiness.

  “You love the Drake,” said Lena.

  “She’s a pleasure to fly.” He eyed Lena and pulled her close. “She’s strong, intelligent, and beautiful. What’s not to love about her?”

  “I have a feeling we’re not talking about the Drake anymore.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  Cap leaned in for a kiss.

  Lena welcomed his lips against hers and raised her hand to his cheek. They stopped in front of a darkened store as Cap placed both hands around her waist and pulled her close.

  When their lips parted, Lena smiled. “That was nice.”

  “Nice? It was a lot better than nice.”

  “Yes,” she admitted coyly. “It was.”

  As they turned to continue on their way, something made Lena stop. Cap turned to see what had caught her attention. A sign saying “closed” hung in a store’s darkened window. He looked back at her.

  “What’s up?”

  “Cap, do you know where we are?”

  “Yeah. We’re in Liberty, capitol of the newly minted Federated States of America, which looks a lot like the old PRA but what do I know.”

  “How very helpful,” she replied sardonically. “Read the sign.”

  Cap looked back at the shop then up at the sign hanging from an iron frame above the door. It read “Wallflowers and Early Bloomers”.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said with a laugh. “This place is still in business?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? People like flowers.”

  “If it were open, I’d buy you some.”

  “You’re very sweet.”

  Cap looked back at the sign then wrapped his arms around Lena once more. “What are you thinking?”

  “Just pondering the role of serendipity in our lives,” she replied quietly.

  “Ah yes, serendipity.”

  “I’m serious – think about it. Logan’s grandfather sends him a medallion and a note asking him to safeguard the medallion until he can retrieve it, but he also gives him clues on how to find this flower shop where he’d hidden a bust of Leonidas. And hidden inside of the bust was the Apollo Stone. Then he dies in a chance car accident which sets us on a scavenger hunt as we try to unravel the mystery.”

  Cap laughed. “Yeah, dumb kids on a treasure hunt.” He gave Lena a sideways glance. “But you knew more than you let on.”

  “Maybe,” she admitted with a sly grin. “After Arthur Chambers’ death, Attika and Professor Garrison asked me to pay closer attention to you two.”

  “And I thought you were ensnared by my charm and dashing good looks.”

  “That came later…much later,” she said. “I guess you have a way of growing on people.”

  They continued their stroll down the street until they came to the tram stop.

  “This is me,” said Lena as a train rumbled up, applying its squeaky breaks as it approached.

  Cap nodded his head. “So it is.”

  He looked at the train’s red and blue door as it swung open then back at her to find she was looking intently at him.

  “I’ve made a decision, Cap,” she said quietly but earnestly. “I’ve decided that I’d rather be in love than be in fear. I’d rather let down my guard than hide behind my walls. From now on, wherever you go, I go. Whatever you do, I do. For my whole life, I thought I was strong because I could keep myself apart from other people. But the opposite is true, we’re stronger together. I’m stronger with you.”

  Cap smiled, surprised and delighted by Lena’s words. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight.

  After a few moments, she pulled herself away, a tear of emotional release and joy trickling down her check.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  “Where to?”

  She took him by the hand and led him up the steps of the awaiting tram. The doors shut behind them just as the tram rolled along its old rusty rails and into the night.

  Chapter 24

  Using a troop of twelve traveling indigents, we placed each subject in a small sound-proof cell consisting only of a bed and a toilet. With blinds over their eyes, plugs in their ears, and gloves on their hands, we sought to determine the effects of extreme isolation on the human psyche. The subjects’ only human contact was with their test supervisor, who interviewed them once each week.

  Not surprisingly, most reported that within a few days they could no longer think clearly. Their minds wandered in search of stimuli, and when that search proved fruitless, they conjured irrational images, sounds, and even scents. Interestingly, the imagined stimuli where never of a pleasant nature. Some believed they smelled smoke and thought their cell was burning. Many reported that their gloved hands felt like lumps of clay or unnatural appendages surgically attached to their wrists. Three were constantly beset by images of grotesque beasts or demons cloaked in shadows. One man saw only packs of dogs, which constantly leaped for his throat and snapped at his limbs. Other common effects include panic attacks, paranoia, reduced impulse control, stimulus hypersensitivity, memory loss, and diminished ability to concentrate. Thoughts of suicide were commonplace.

  Over time, these effects became more pronounced. Many required assistance in feeding themselves, and their personal hygiene rapidly declined. All of them grew emotionally attached to their test supervisor, treating their weekly interviews as a sort of lifeline to their previous mental state. Consequently, these supervisors soon came to hold considerable sway over the subjects and could induce them to admit to things they never did. The subjects also freely shared their most closely held secrets.

  After six months, the experiment was concluded and a final evaluation conducted. Researchers discovered that, in addition to the aforementioned effects upon the subjects’ psyche, they had considerable difficulty recognizing faces or navigating even the simplest of courses. Imaging studies of their brains showed a marked reduction in the hippocampus, which relates to learning, memory, and spatial awareness. Subjects also demonstrated increased behavioral plasticity and continued attachment, even devotion to, their test supervisors. The study concluded that the use of isolation therapy is an extremely effective tool for treating political and social discognitia and for combating undedicated behavior generally.

  - State Protectorate Division, Operating Procedures Handbook, Appendix IX, “Isolation Therapy as a Nonpharmacological Treatment for Political and Social Discognitia” by Zina Howard, MD, PhD.

  “Linsky,” whispered a voice in the darkness.

  Alexander Linsky turned his eyes in the direction of the sound but saw only shadows. He rose from the narrow bed on which he lay and slowly walked toward the heavy metal door of his small cell. He pressed his ear against the cold steel and listened intently.

  “Who’s there?” he said just loudly enough for anyone standing on the other side to hear.

  “Linsky,” whispered the voice once more from somewhere behind him.

  Linsky spun around, but again he saw nothing. He looked up at the small camera lens imbedded in the ceiling above his bed. He did not think it was equipped with a speaker, but that did not mean there wasn’t one hidden somewhere in his cell. The former SPD officer knew from personal experience that the introduction of audio stimuli after prolonged isolation and sensory deprivation could produce profound effects on a subject. But if his captors thought they could break him w
ith such simple tactics, they were sorely mistaken.

  “This is pathetic,” he said loudly to anyone who might be listening. “You’re wasting your time!”

  He returned to the small bed and lay down once more. He stared for a few moments at the little black dot of the camera lens above him. He smiled, casually folded his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.

  “Linsky.”

  He sat up with a sudden jolt. The voice seemed to have whispered directly into his ear from just millimeters away. He looked toward the door and saw a tall, thin man standing in the gloom. The man turned his face toward Linsky and stared at him for several heartbeats before speaking.

  “It is not customary for people to lounge in their beds when I am in their presence, Linsky.”

  Linsky quickly got to his feet and stood at attention. “Grand Guardian Harken!” he said in an awestruck tone, unsure if he could trust his eyes. “How…How did you…”

  “How I do anything is my own business and mine alone,” snapped Harken.

  Linsky squinted to better see Harken and saw that he no longer had a silver mane of hair. It had been shaved down to the skin. Also, several short spikes or nodes protruded from his bare skull and the skin around their bases was raw and blood encrusted.

  “What are those things in your head?”

  “Do not concern yourself with my appearance, Linsky. Now, get a hold of yourself and report on the current situation.” Harken looked around the dark cell. “Judging from your accommodations, I assume it is not good. How long have you been here?”

  Linsky ran his hands over the front of the gray jumpsuit he had been issued upon arriving at the prison. Suddenly embarrassed, he glanced down at the letters and black numbers stitched on a rectangular white patch on his chest.

  “Six months, maybe more, sir.” he said. “The Septemberists and the League joined together to defeat us. I have failed you, Grand Guardian Harken. The Septemberists are in control of the nation.”

  Harken raised an eyebrow. “I’m not surprised.”

  Linsky squinted at the former leader of the People’s Republic. Although he stood just two meters away from him, Harken was enveloped in strange, rippling shadows that blurred the outlines of his body.

  “There were significant currents of undedicated thought among the least of our citizens which a series of incompetent Justice Guardians failed to snuff out,” said Harken bitterly. “Bosch, in particular, was a bumbling idiot. Defense Guardian Castell, too, was a fool.” He paused a moment and frowned with disgust. “Well, what can one expect from a man whose own daughter would betray the nation in such a spectacular fashion?”

  “Yes sir,” agreed Linsky. “The foundations of the State were rotting. But what could we have done differently?”

  “We gave the People too many freedoms and sought to mollify them with unearned luxuries. Unfortunately, once they drink from the cup of self-indulgence, the undedicated masses soon become inebriated. It is a primordial urge they cannot suppress. Our failure is rooted in our belief that we could elevated the masses above their crude desires – food, strong drink, procreation. We shall not make that mistake again. When I return to power, the People will have no doubts as to who rules. Now, tell me the state of affairs.”

  “The Septemberist leader, Attika, has pushed through new elections,” replied Linsky. “A majority of her Septemberist cronies were voted into power. Their first act was to establish a new constitution and a new name for the nation, the Federated States of America. They also renamed the Capitol District. It’s now called Liberty.”

  “Pah! Liberty, indeed,” snarled Harken. “Liberty is a distraction, a dangerous lie told to the masses. It leads inevitably to rebellion and destruction. Far better to be open, honest, and brutal. Now, tell me more about Attika and her plans.”

  “She’s moving quickly,” said Linsky sadly. “In just three years, she and her Septemberist pets have undone a century of hard won progress. The carefully constructed socio-economic machinery of the People’s Republic has been smashed beyond all recognition.”

  “It wouldn’t be a revolution if she didn’t break things,” said Harken. “What position has she claimed for herself?”

  “Nothing official. She is an unelected advisor.”

  “So she leads from the shadows, pulling the strings of others,” observed Harken. “That means she needs someone to be the public face of her machinations. Who is it?”

  “There is no one person. She exerts her will through the twenty-five members of the Executive Committee, which makes all significant decisions.”

  Harken laughed loudly. “So now there are twenty-five guardians. How absurd things have become. What of the army? How does she impose her will on the people?”

  “General Vessey still leads First Army, but he remains neutral and states that he is only interested in seeing the establishment of a stable and equitable government. But he remains a threat to the new regime, and I have no doubt Attika is biding her time until she can swat the fat old fool out of the way.”

  “So Vessey and First Army have been neutralized, at least for the time being. What of the other armies?”

  “Third Army remained loyal but was finally destroyed near the Canadian border.”

  Harken narrowed his eyes. “Longmire pursued Third Army even after the Capitol District fell? I’m surprised the League did not order him to return across the Mississippi. How strangely ambitious of them.”

  “Longmire’s forces did advance north in order to cut Third Army off from the Capitol District, but they did not engage against us, at least not significantly.”

  “Then who did? Vessey?”

  “No sir. It was Second Army.”

  “How is that possible?” asked Harken angrily. “Before I left, Second Army had mutinied. They’d murdered their senior officer corps. Who could have possibly moved them to take action?”

  “It was Brandt, sir,” answered Linsky.

  “What? Why would Second Army follow that….that scoundrel, that traitor?”

  Linsky clenched his hands into fists as the memory of his defeat played out in his mind.

  “As the last defenders of the PRA, Third Army was a natural target for Brandt and the traitors of Second Army,” growled Linsky. “He and Attika must have whipped them into a frenzy by telling them what would happen to them if order were restored to the PRA – execution for the ring leaders, labor camps for the rank and file. And the remaining Guardians, myself included, had joined Third Army in order to ensure the continuity of government, making the defeat of Third Army of paramount importance to Attika.”

  Harken slowly nodded his head. “Yes, as the last bastion of legitimate authority, Attika had to destroy the army and the Guardians it protected. I’m sure she wasted no time in seizing power amidst all the chaos.”

  “She did, but the Capitol District mob did most of the dirty work for her. They murdered every politician and bureaucrat they could lay hands on. And not just in the Capitol District; there was chaos in all major urban centers.”

  Harken’s eyes darkened. “As I said before, our mistake was in indulging the people with too many luxuries. Unhitch the mule from the grinding stone and it will never willingly return. Continue with your account.”

  “We withdrew to the north, past Philadelphia, but Brandt was close on our heels. We fought a few minor engagements near New York and Albany, but we were beset with problems. Septemberist infiltrators were well ahead of us, stealing ammunition and fuel, destroying supplies, and damaging or destroying bridges. The situation became desperate. It was not long before we had exhausted our food and fuel, but still we marched on while Brandt harried us from behind and Septemberists sniped at our flanks. Finally, we reached the Canadian border near Montreal. It was our plan to take the city, dig in, and force Brandt into a costly door to door struggle.”

  Harken nodded his head. “With Canada’s meager military stationed far to the west seeking to staunch the flow of Russian immigrants, th
e city must have been lightly defended.”

  “It was,” agreed Linsky, “but the bastards blew the bridges over the St. Lawrence just as we arrived.”

  “That nation has long been a nuisance,” snarled Harken. “They will pay dearly when I return to power.”

  “We turned to fight Brandt and Second Army with our backs to the river. The battle lasted only two hours. Brandt pinned down our center then proceeded to roll up our left flank. At that point, he offered terms.”

  “Which you refused.”

  “Of course! But the soldiers of Third Army responded disgracefully to my call to fight on. They threw down their weapons and surrendered or fled into the countryside. Only the Republican Guard fought with distinction, but they were too few to alter the result.”

  “Remarkable,” muttered Harken in disbelief. “To think our troops could be capable of such monstrous disobedience.”

  “We underestimated Brandt’s appeal to the common foot soldier,” said Linsky bitterly.

  “And overestimated the loyalty of our own soldiers,” added Harken. “As for Brandt, he’s nothing but a traitorous boy playing at a grown man’s game.”

  “His men love him,” said Linsky. “He’s an insightful planner and frequently exposes himself to the perils of battle.”

  The former Grand Guardian was about to respond, but he stopped himself and looked past Linsky to focus on something in the distance. Seconds later, he returned his attention to Linsky and said, “Forget about Brandt. We failed because we miscalculated. There were too many unknowns, too many variables for us to chart a path to success, but things are rapidly changing. New opportunities are presenting themselves, Linsky. Tell me, are any of the other Guardians still alive?”

  “No. They abandoned Third Army one night during the march north but were soon discovered by the mob. They were lynched where they were found. Only Ramirez remained loyal, but he was killed while leading a counterattack during the final battle.”

  “Ramirez. Not a bright man, but fearless,” said Harken with approval. “Do you have other assets, dedicated fighters still at large?”