by Lars Teeney
“You there! Apostate. Approach the door,” a Ranger ordered. Prescott did as the man asked. The Ranger handed him what looked like a ‘Database’ applicator. Prescott was perplexed.
“What is this?” Prescott asked.
“Do it,” the Ranger ordered at gunpoint.
“I don’t understand?” Prescott protested. The Ranger responded by shoving the gun muzzle into Prescott’s brow.
“You will understand in time,” the Ranger said. Prescott injected the “Database” into his arm. Synthetic proteins encoded with some mysterious data raced through his bloodstream, en route to his neural implant. As the minutes ticked by Prescott felt himself getting weaker. The world around him began to blur. He felt his heartbeat slow and then stop. He could no longer breath. Then, everything went dark.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
THE LABORER DESERVES HIS WAGES
Inquisitor Rodrigo had thrown himself into his current mission, with the fervor of a zealot. Originally the secret brief called for two Rangers to carry out the mission, but Rodrigo concluded that the less people that knew about it the better, and so he took it on himself. Rodrigo had grown bored of his administrative capacity so he was looking forward to hands-on work. Rodrigo was already in the field, spending long stretches of time enjoying the Annapolis beach, waiting for the right time to make a move. Some emotion that resembled jealously materialized in his brain; the First Daughter gets a waterfront mansion on the Chesapeake Bay while he was relegated to modest quarters in the M.O.S.S. building.
Inquisitor Rodrigo had been sanctioned by Kate Schrubb to make her husband and father of her child “disappear”. Rodrigo did not ask how far reaching his powers would be in this operation. He simply assumed that an ‘Op’ of this nature required special handling and so nothing would be off-limits. And so he spared no expense to profile the mansion’s security system; knowing its strengths and vulnerabilities. He figured he could now stroll in if he really wanted to. Rodrigo had also entered Kate Schrubb's mansion and had planted listening devices. He would need as much intelligence as possible.
Rodrigo was dressed in all black and had covered his upper-body in scrub from the dunes on the beach where he had been spending countless hours staring out to sea, waiting for something of interest. He missed his one love in life; cycling. This mission did not afford him time to go on his usual daily rides of sixty miles. Also, there was a shortage of targets to interrogate; after all, he was an Inquisitor. He wagered that this mission if carried out would win him and L.O.V.E. a degree of autonomy they wouldn't otherwise have. He spent the many of hours of down time, scheming and plotting out his moves well into the future.
“Sally! Thanks for calling. How are you? It’s been a while.” Rodrigo's H.U.D. was triggered due to audio activity picked up by Rodrigo’s bugs, and so he listened with intent.
“Oh, I am so glad that everything is going well for you and your family. How was your vacation to Wainwright, Texas? I bet it was inspiring...” The mind-numbing small talk continued. Rodrigo caught himself zoning out, and so he refocused his attention.
“Well, you know, he works a lot. He’s the Regime's top scientist!” Kate recited sarcastically. Rodrigo smirked when he realized that she had not been telling all.
“Exactly, you think he would make more time for his newborn son and family. Yeah, Sally, he married into the First Family. That should count for something!” Kate complained. Rodrigo considered quitting listening in when he heard his name.
“Oh yeah, we have a new Inquisitor. That one is definitely married to his work. A bit of an oddball you know. Not very socially adept. I swear, Sally, if it wasn't a death sentence under the law I would tell you that the man is gay.” Kate laughed. A few more lines were said. Rodrigo just stared out to sea when he heard the words, showing no emotion. He decided that there was nothing more of value to glean from the conversation. He would stow what had been said about himself in the back of his mind for another opportunity.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
It was the wee hours of the morning and Inquisitor Rodrigo had been asleep in his bedroll for several hours. The sound of the tide and gentle sea air had provided a suitable environment for slumber. Suddenly his H.U.D. buzzed with an alert. Rodrigo stirred and turned his attention to his H.U.D. A line of text read “Vehicle Activity Detected”. Rodrigo had slept fully dressed and so he rushed to the top of a dune that overlooked the driveway to the front of the mansion. Rodrigo refined his field of vision and focused in a stumbling figure, which had exited a vehicle. The vehicle I.D. was assigned to Martino Franco, and he was now stumbling toward the front door. Rodrigo deduced that he had been out all night, drinking.
Rodrigo witnessed Martino enter the house, so he turned his attention to the audio being picked up by his bugs in the mansion. First there were no sounds but rummaging through the refrigerator, then he heard a prolonged stream of urine splashing into the water of a toilet bowl. Some inaudible mumbling followed along with the sound of more alcohol being poured over ice. The mumbling became louder.
“The Reverend—so high maintenance...I should have never...” Martino trailed off. He began snoring. Rodrigo considered terminating the feed and going back to sleep when he heard footstepsdescending stairs.
“There you are again! Staying out all night and doing God knows what. How long has it been since you laid eyes on your son?” Kate scolded him. Marino jumped awake and groaned.
“What are going on about, woman?” Martino snapped, followed up by more drunken stammerings.
“The husband of the First Daughter does not act like this!” she yelled back, shaming him.
“He does if he is responsible for the continued success of the Church and Regime of New Megiddo!” Now the yelling match has begun in earnest. Rodrigo sighed.
“My father appreciates what you have done for New Megiddo. Now get fucking over yourself! You are a terrible father! You're the reason—” she stopped herself from finishing her sentence, but Martino knew what she would have said.
“Yeah, I know you blame me for Simon, because of my age. Somehow even if I presented hard science to you that proved that is was not my fault you'd still hold it against me,” he said calmly.
“I have given you so many chances, Martino!” she hissed.
“Yep, I also know you have your Ministry cronies watching my every move. I don't care. Keep on spying,” he dismissed the danger.
“I will. Goodbye Martino,” she said coldly. Rodrigo could make out footsteps ascending stairs. He then heard some more minutes of mumbling, then, finally, storing. Rodrigo figured that this was the perfect time to make his move. He dashed down the sand dunes, and sprinted through a fruit orchard flanking the mansion. He made his way across a vast lawn to Martino's car that had been parked crookedly. Rodrigo then made a sprint to the front door of the mansion and used his H.U.D. to hack the security system. The large wooden double-doors opened for Rodrigo, and he casually strolled in go about his work.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Kate Schrubb had awoken fairly late this day. The display on her H.U.D. read “Eleven A.M.”. She was guessing that Simon had been awake for hours. Fortunately for the First Family they could still rely on pre-war drone technology to help out with the burden of everyday life. She was reassured that the Motherly Instinct Drone for Well-being, Inspiration, Faith, and Enlightenment, or M.I.D.W.I.F.E., was hard at work looking after Simon. She dragged herself out of bed and wrapped her robe around her frame, and proceeded downstairs. Kate walked through the lounge and noticed that Martino was already gone. She was surprised that he had risen before her, him having been in a drunken stupor the night before. She thought nothing else of it and headed to the kitchen for some breakfast.
Kate cracked some eggs into a skillet for an omelet. She pulled fresh produce from a drawer in the refrigerator and started to cut each on a board. Bell pepper, onion, cheese, and avocado were thrown onto the eggs and soon her omelet was ready. Kate made short work of her delic
ious omelet and heading back upstairs to change into her running gear. When descended the stairs to the foyer her slender frame was clad in contour-hugging synthetic, smart, nano-material; designed to change its mass depending on the surrounding environment and temperature, to offer ventilation or warmth when needed. Kate started in on her pre-run stretching regimen; cherry-picking, side-bends, toe stretches, and jumping jacks followed. Mid-jumping jack, an envelope on a table by the front door caught her eye.
Kate stopped what she was doing and reached for the envelope; it had he name written across the front. She tore it open with her thumb and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. She unfolded it and began reading.
“Kate-
I am so sorry that I have been a terrible husband and father. I was not meant for New Megiddo life and I have become a burden to you and your family. I have decided you would be better off without me
and I would be better off living a different life. Don't bother trying to find me as I have covered my tracks with utmost care. You will never see me again. I hope Simon grows into a brave, strong man. I do
love you two.
With Sincerity,
Martino Franco”
Kate immediately knew that these were not his words and that it was not written in his hand. She realized that the deed had been done by Rodrigo. How he had pulled it off she did not know; nor did she want to know. Kate smiled. She decided that she would go for an extra long run today and enjoy the amazing weather outside. For the first time in a long time, she was happy.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
FOOLS DESPISE WISDOM
Evan had to get out of the H.E.M.A. school for a couple days. He had been reading treatises, drilling and sparring with Craig for many months solid. So he had gone out into the slums and sought booze, music and love. He had stopped into one of his old haunts, the Reliquary, a religiously-themed bar that was anything but. The joint was run by ‘Sister Sarah’, and had seemed to be around for as long as he could remember. It had always been a den of vice, where one could find what they want; companionship, drinks or ‘Database’. The previous night he had met a fellow who had taken a liking to Evan, and so they had sealed the deal. Having had a wild night, Evan did not wake up at his usual time. Half the day was gone already and he had a killer headache.
Evan rushed out of the shanty he had spent the night at into the chaotic morass of the slums. He bumbed into a man hauling water down the street and apologized. Evan picked up the pace to a slow jog. After covering several blocks he reached the outskirts of the slums near the H.E.M.A. school. Evan rushed through the front doors. When he entered he saw that Craig was instructing a couple of clients in fencing. But, when Evan entered the school Craig stopped the lesson and turned to stare at Evan. Craig abruptly sent his clients out the door, quite perturbed.
“You’ve missed your sparring regimen for three days in a row now. Tell me Evan, how is your swordsmanship right now?” Craig pulled a practice sword from the rack and tossed at Evan’s feet.
“Look, I just needed a little break. Can’t we resume tomorrow? I need some sleep.” Evan complained. Barely after he finished his sentence Craig had closed the distance between he and Evan and had delivered a wooden sword blow to Evan’s back, sending him stumbling forward.
“No! I will see what you have learned, now!” Craig demanded, posturing for another attack. Evan let a groan and tumbled out of the way of Craig’s attack, snatching the practice sword in the process. He assumed a defensive stance.
“I meant no disrespect, Craig! Take it easy!” Evan Pleaded to no avail. Craig launched into a series of high and low strikes, probing Evan’s defenses. Evan did his best to parry and ward off the attacks, but every now and then hits were landed. Evan had no protective gear on so the thrust to his ribs and the chop to his forearm was excruciating. Evan tried to draw from the months of studying martial treatises, to counter Craig’s barrages. He remembered that you must never find yourself on the defensive; keep the pressure on. So, Evan changed tactics. He made sure to close lines of attack, then he parried a lazy strike from Craig, resulting in a thrust landed to Craig’s chest. Craig stumbled back and smiled.
“Aye, lad. I bet you are proud of yourself with that one. But, it would have been a flesh wound and you failed to finish me off!” With that Craig let out a thunderous yell, hooked Evan’s sword with his, he disarmed evan, then picked him up off his feet and body-slammed him to the mat. The air was forced out of Evan’s lungs. He lay where he fell not moving, still trying to figure out what happened.
“You come into my school, reeking of booze, out all night doing your whoring, and you think you can just stroll back in here without being tested?” Craig put the sword to Evan’s neck.
“Craig, I—” Evan was cut off.
“Shut up! If you love the slums so much you can—” Before Craig could finish the front door opened and in walked a well-dressed man, donning an overcoat.
“So sorry, hope I’m not interrupting anything important!” Craig looked over, wearing a surprised look on his face.
“You! I—uh—How can I help you?” Craig stumbled over his words. He approached the man.
“Well, I am interested in talking to you about enrolling of course,” the man said with a smile. He shook Craig’s hand.
“Yes, of course. Let’s talk in my back office,” Craig said, directing the man to the back. Craig shot a dirty look in Evan’s direction to express unfinished business. Evan was thankful for the reprieve from punishment that had been delivered by the man’s arrival. He got up from the floor, dusted himself off, and angered, decided to leave the school to go for a walk.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
“I didn’t think I’d hear back from you, honestly. I’m glad you appeared when you did. I was about to murder the whelp,” Craig confessed with a furrowed brow. He sat behind his desk in a torn-leather chair, and lit a cigarette. The man in the overcoat also lit up.
“Oh come now! He couldn’t have been that big of a pain?” the man asked, surprised at his words.
“The boy has talent, that much is true. But, I have no love for sodomites. Your promise is the only thing keeping that boy alive,” Craig growled while exhaling smoke.
“And I plan to keep that promise. Do you believe the boy has progressed enough in his training?” the man asked.
“Aye. He tapped me a few good ones. If he can do that I believe one day he will surpass my skill level,” Craig said.
“That is good news, considering you were one of the most highly-decorated Rangers during the ‘Holy War’ with China. That’s a compliment coming from you.” the man exclaimed.
“Right. I did my duty to New Megiddo, and to that—boy out there. So, I’ll be taking my due and my passage. I long to see the land of my forebears. Is everything in order?” Craig’s asked impatiently.
“Down to brass tacks? Okay, yes, everything is ready. I will send someone with the exact time and location of the ship,” the man in the overcoat informed Craig.
“Very well. Pleasure doing business with you. I look forward to getting out of this God-forsaken, shit-hole you call New Megiddo,” Craig snorted in a haze of cigarette smoke.
“Great, I’m off then. Oh, one more thing Craig, give the kid a break. When you leave make it seem like it’s a sincere farewell. Maybe leave him a weapon or something?” the man suggested.
“Yeah—yeah. I will think it over. Cheers!” the man could sense that Craig was dismissing him, so he dashed his cigarette out and left the school. Craig leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. He could hardly believe that his escape was nearly at hand. He thoroughly enjoyed the remainder of his cigarette.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
Evan walked into a slum bar. The blows he had taken from Craig’s assault coupled with the hangover from reveling was too much to bear. When he approached the counter he ordered a bourbon shot and a beer. Evan tossed back the shot glass and savored the burn, then chased it with hi
s beer. He looked over the bar and saw many locals slumped over in a drunken stupor, some stared down at their drinks, blankly. He contemplated ordering another shot but then Craig’s words had echoed in his head.
“Shit! What am I doing?” Evan thought to himself. He resolved to return to the school and resume his training. He knocked back the last of his beer, slapped down a Tithe on the bar and took his leave. He strolled down the slum allies, not in any particular hurry to get back to the school and face Craig’s anger once more. He just hoped that Craig had enough time to simmer down. Soon, he was in front of the school. He hesitated to enter. Evan summoned enough courage, partly from the whiskey, and he flung the door open and stepped in. Craig was not present in the training space.
“Craig!” he called out. No answer came. He looked in the back office. Aside from residual cigarette stench there was no sign of Craig. Evan checked the storeroom wheret he had made it into a make-shift bedroom. Nothing. Evan didn’t really think much off it. He just thought that Craig stepped out to blow-off steam. Evan decided that he would practice some techniques, so he stepped over to the training mat. He approached a weapon rack to retrieve a practice sword. Then, from the corner of his eye he spied a note with his name on it, hanging from Craig’s family Claymore that hung on the wall in the center of the training floor. Evan approached and snatched the note up. He unfolded it and read,