Sic Semper Tyrannis: The Chimera Adjustment, Book Two (Imperium Cicernus 5)

by Caleb Wachter

  “Then maybe I should cut to the chase—“ she began, reaching into her pocket to produce the Mark of Adjustment.

  Carter’s eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity, though his expression from the cheeks down never faltered as he smoothly interrupted, “That would seem such a shame, given the fact that I would like nothing more than to take you back to my quarters for a more prolonged…private engagement.”

  At first Masozi was shocked by his overtly sexual proposition, but then she saw his fingers lightly drumming the data slate before him and she saw he had already turned it so she could read the words, which read: They are watching you.

  “So, my dear,” he continued pleasantly as she felt her heartbeats quicken, “how much is your time worth? I am far from a wealthy man,” he said in an overtly apologetic tone, “but I know a meaningful opportunity when it is presented to me, and would gladly compensate you for your time—you have, after all, traveled quite some distance on my behalf.”

  Realizing he was suggesting that she pretend to be some kind of high-end prostitute, Masozi briefly gritted her teeth before jutting her chin out defiantly, “My time has already been paid for.”

  “Oh no, no, no, no, no,” Carter shook his head severely, “that simply will not do; it is far too impersonal. No…” he said contemplatively as he erased the contents of the data slate and typed up a new message, “I should hope this would be rather less than insulting?”

  He turned the slate at a very precise angle, and Masozi had to fight to keep her eyes from tracking in the direction he was purposefully avoiding exposing the message to as she read the second message: I know why you are here, Adjuster; I promise I will not resist, but if you do it here they will kill you.

  Masozi nearly jumped when Eve’s voice burst into her ear, “Soze, we’ve got a problem—“

  “I understand,” she said forcefully, hoping Eve picked up on the hint, “that you’re not a wealthy man, but that won’t even cover the fuel bill.”

  Masozi’s monocle sprang to life and a trio of flashing red icons appeared, scattered throughout a three dimensional grid representing the Green Zone. Two of the icons were on nearly opposite sides of the cylindrical station’s garden area—meaning they had nearly perfect lines of sight on her and Mr. Carter—and the other was on the opposite side of a wall about thirty meters from where she sat.

  Carter sighed, “That is, unfortunately, the entirety of my liquid assets. However…I might have an item or two you would consider accepting in trade back in my quarters?” he said hopefully. “One is a set of perfectly preserved books—First Edition Don Quixote, in fact, which are over five thousand years old—and the other is an amber jewelry set which belonged to my mother that came from Old Earth itself.”

  Masozi did her best to appear as though she was considering the offer before nodding, “We can probably come to an agreement.”

  “Splendid,” Carter beamed, standing from the table just as Masozi’s drink arrived. He offered his arm in a thoroughly unexpected display of what he probably considered gallantry—and it was a display which Masozi was loathe to encourage, but knew she needed to play along with the ruse—so she reluctantly took his arm and followed him. “Shall we have the tea delivered to my quarters?” he asked patiently.

  “Want me to follow with the suit?” Eve asked as soon as he’d finished speaking.

  “That would be fine,” Masozi agreed to both before proceeding, arm-in-arm, with Carter toward his quarters.

  “Looks like the shooters are moving,” Eve explained as soon as the flashing red icons flickered and shifted positions on the monocle’s display, “I haven’t got precise specs, but they’re packing advanced weaponry: magnetically-driven, self-guiding dart guns if my guess is right. Each of those darts usually packs enough tranquilizers to put down a dozen people on contact, but I’m guessing these are loaded with a decidedly more lethal recipe. The other one’s following at about forty meters behind you; I can’t see anything on him…he must be stealthed.”

  Masozi’s heartbeats were pounding in her ears, and it was all she could do to keep to the leisurely pace Carter was setting.

  “My dear,” he said, beaming a tight smile at her, “you are positively trembling.”

  She shot him a brief, dire look before riposting, “What can I say? I’m a born capitalist; nothing gets me more excited than money.”

  He chuckled, “Well said…well said.”

  Finding her nerves under slightly more control than they had been a moment earlier, Masozi moved through the reinforced door leading to the residential district where Mr. Carter resided.

  She breathed a short sigh of relief when they were no longer in sight of the two gunmen, and Carter said, “We must quicken our pace.”

  Silently agreeing with him, she followed until they reached the sub-district where his residence was located. As he input his command codes, she drew the single-shot gun and placed it against the small of his back.

  “I assure you, there is no need—“ he began as the door slid open.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” she cut in coldly as the icon of the third pursuer winked out of existence some fifty meters back from where Masozi stood.

  “Sorry, Sis,” Eve said sourly, “I can’t keep a lock on the last one in here.”

  “It’s ok,” Masozi muttered as Mr. Carter led her into his quarters. Once inside, she waited a moment for the icon representing the Infiltrator suit to move within and she slapped the button to close the door behind them.

  “May I at least know the official charges against me, since they will clearly cost me my life?” Carter asked as he moved to a sideboard and produced a pair of tumblers, which he filled with a dark, opaque, slightly green-looking substance that Masozi couldn’t recognize.

  Her eyes darted around the small, dimly lit chamber as she searched for surveillance gear, or EM signatures picked up by the monocle which might indicate such gear’s presence. A handful of signatures for such surveillance items registered on the monocle, but each of them appeared to be offline.

  “My dear,” he said, proffering one of the tumblers, which was only one fourth filled with the opaque liquid, “there is nothing in here I did not place myself; we are quite alone, though I do maintain a pair of security cameras there,” he pointed to one corner of the room before pointing to a sealed display case, “and there. I have, however, taken the liberty of disabling them so as to avoid compromising your identity should an audio-video record of my…Adjustment fall into station security’s possession.”

  “Looks like he’s right, Sis,” Eve said, “the suit’s sensors detect those two cameras, and they’re deactivated all right. I’m not seeing anything else in here.”

  “Why?” Masozi asked tightly, never allowing the barrel of her pistol to waver from its target in the center of his chest. “Why help me?”

  “My dear—“ he began in his strange accent.

  “’Adjuster’ will do, thank you,” she interrupted harshly.

  “Adjuster, then,” he inclined his head before taking a sip of the liquid in his tumbler, after which he sighed—and in that moment, he looked far from the vibrant, warm man she had met just a few minutes earlier. He looked positively exhausted and, to put it bluntly, old. “I have abhorred violence of any sort for my entire life. I do understand and appreciate its role in maintainin’ a civilized society—or, at least, its role in maintainin’ our society—but, as one who has spent his life serving society’s interests at the public’s behest, it seems to me that violence should only ever be considered a last resort…and even then, it may often be better kept than used.”

  “So why walk me in here when I’ve got a gun pointed at your head?” Masozi demanded.

  “Because,” he replied simply, taking another draw from the tumbler and smacking his lips afterward as he grimaced, “I failed my constituents, and they demand that I be punished for that failure. I have lived my life proud of what I have done as a public servant. My only regret i
n all of my eighty four years is that I was unable to secure the safety of those nineteen hundred and forty two souls who perished needlessly at the hands of those…fanatics. It is a failure that has haunted me, and will continue to haunt me, for as long as I draw breath.” He straightened himself as he finished the last of his tumbler and set it down on a nearby table, “I have lived each of my last sixty one years according to the will of the people, and I can find no better end to my life than one which those same people demand.”

  Something still seemed wrong about the situation to Masozi. She had already placed a great deal of trust in Mr. Carter by following him to his residence, but she wasn’t certain she could extend it much further. Still…something just felt wrong to her. Even just a few years earlier she would have scoffed at the idea that a ‘gut feeling’ should trump the evidence—which, in this case, seemed indisputable that Mr. Carter had failed to discharge his duty to the people who had elected him to a position of power.

  “Give me the short version of what happened with the hostage situation,” Masozi said. Her posture and expression were taut and rigid, as they had been a moment earlier, but she felt something inside her soften as she considered the man before her. He did not seem like the type to begrudge his constituents’ decision not to re-elect him, but that was precisely what the evidence was painting him to be.

  “You have doubtless already read the complete reports,” he sighed, but there was a flicker in his eye…or a moment of hesitation between words that Masozi, after years of working as an Investigator, would never fail to notice. “There is nothing that I can add to them.”

  “I don’t think you understand the situation, Mr. Carter,” Masozi said in a low, tight voice. “This is bigger than whatever it is you’re hiding; too much is at stake for me to ignore the clues and Adjust you like the evidence seems to suggest I should.”

  Carter’s eyes narrowed and they engaged in a silent battle of wills for several seconds before he relented, “If I was hidin’ something, Adjuster, I most certainly would require a show of good faith on your part before revealin’ it.”

  “There isn’t anything in the Timent Electorum’s rules that says you can’t discuss the Blanco Adjustment, Sis,” Eve piped in quickly. “It’s just better that you don’t, most of the time, for obvious reasons since…well, you know, you’re basically a state-sanctioned assassin.”

  She considered it for a moment and then decided to go through the proverbial front door. “My name is Masozi Blanco,” she said, and Mr. Carter’s visage betrayed his surprise at hearing her family name, “and I’m conducting some sort of a test to prove I’m qualified to take on bigger cases—make that ‘Adjustments’,” she corrected sourly, “which are already well behind schedule. The longer I am delayed, the deeper the roots of this issue will dig into the Sector, but I cannot afford to Adjust someone unlawfully.”

  “I see…” he mused, his eyes snapping back and forth across her body as he silently considered her words. “I see,” he repeated, his shoulders slouching as he relaxed into a nearby chair, “so that is how this must be…”

  “What?” Masozi demanded. “What are you talking about?”

  Carter rubbed his face wearily, and when he finished she could see tears welling in his eyes. “I must then, in good conscience, explain the facts of the matter for which the people have requested my Adjustment…though doing so brings me no small amount of pain.”

  “The short version,” Masozi reminded him as she took a step away from the door. She did not wish to be near it if someone decided to employ breaching charges to gain entry, though she suspected that whoever was trailing Mr. Carter—and, by extension, her—would not require such a blunt force approach to the relatively minor barrier presented by the metal door.

  “The short version,” he said, tears running down his cheeks as he visibly fought to keep the tremors from his voice, “is that the terrorists, after seizing control of the five hab modules—“

  “The report said only four hab modules were under threat,” Masozi interrupted, her anger rising at the idea that he might be purposefully misleading her.

  “That is the official report,” Carter agreed, “and while explaining the matter in its entirety would illuminate other facets, you did ask for the short version.”

  Feeling properly rebuked, Masozi resisted the urge to shrink from the man’s piercing gaze as she said, “Go on.”

  “The five hab modules,” he continued, “were being held by a handful of terrorists each. They used fear, carnage, and atrocity to keep the occupants in line. By the time we received their demands, over a hundred people had already been killed and twice as many were badly injured. Their demands…” he trailed off as his voice caught in his throat. Coughing forcefully, he shook his head and wiped tears from his cheeks, “Their demands were that they be granted enduring access to, and partial ownership of, those five modules for their families to reside within. The terrorists themselves understood they would be executed for their crimes and they had no quarrel with that aspect of the situation, having apparently resolved to die in the effort one way or another before they had even come to our fair System.”

  “Where were they from?” Masozi asked.

  “Rationem, mostly,” he replied as he dabbed his eyes with the hem of his sleeve, “there were three thousand of them in all, and all they seemed to want was a place to live for their families since Rationem had become increasingly oppressive for them. In truth, I sympathized with their plight and had done my best to reform permanent immigration policies in our community to permit their widespread entry. In any event, we succeeded in consolidating the terrorists on two of the hab modules onto one, which spared the fifth module from sharing the fate of the other four,” he said, his emotions apparently once again under his control. “But whatever negotiations we might have further engaged in broke down completely when my successor—who was not yet fully sworn into office—became apprised of the situation. In accordance with our laws, he was granted a legal say in how we would proceed.”

  Masozi had reviewed the aftermath reports, in which Mr. Carter’s successor had been shown to publicly take a hardline stance of non-negotiation in the hours, days, and weeks following the destruction of the four hab modules and the deaths of nearly two thousand civilians.

  “How did you end up getting the terrorists to move from the fifth module?” Masozi asked, her inquisitive nature coming to the fore.

  “Apparently,” Carter explained, “the inhabitants of that module had disabled the environmental systems before the terrorists had taken complete control. It was only a matter of time before they would run out of breathable air, and I had already agreed to several of their stipulations so they felt comfortable making a gesture of good faith—one that would, incidentally, allow them to continue breathing.”

  Negotiating with terrorists did seem like a foolish and historically disastrous thing to do, but Masozi knew that if she had been in his situation she would have certainly been tempted to mitigate the loss of life using any means necessary.

  “Not long after the terrorists had transferred from the fifth module,” Carter continued, “was when my successor became involved in the affair. I had already been facing stiff resistance from the Station Security Council, who largely disapproved of my handling of the situation, but his arrival saw my shaky hold on the situation vanish like a wisp of steam risin’ from a teacup.”

  Masozi thought she understood the situation in its entirety, but what he said next surprised even her.

  “Before I lost my ability to communicate with the terrorists,” Carter said tremulously, “I offered to exchange myself for several of the young, the elderly, and the infirm. The terrorists agreed…but I was placed under arrest shortly thereafter by the Security Council and was unable to fulfill my end of the bargain.” At that, he once again began to weep into his hands. To Masozi, his sobs were truly pathetic in every sense of the word.

  “And that’s when they detonated the explosi
ves…” Masozi finished into the growing silence, which had previously been broken only by his sounds of despair.

  “Yes,” he nodded as he wiped tears furiously from his face, “they believed we had gone back on our deal, and decided it was better to die for their cause than to surrender to criminal proceedings.” He shook his head slowly as he sank into his chair, “But my successor had already dispatched strike teams to each of the hab modules…he was determined that there would be no criminal proceedings.”

  “You mean…” Masozi’s eyes went wide with horror, “your successor destroyed the habitats?!”

  “Not directly, no,” Carter assured her, “but he sealed their deaths as surely as he might have done usin’ any other method once he had the Security Council place me under arrest. The situation needed only a spark to spiral out of control, and that was precisely what he provided.”

  Masozi nodded slowly as she ran the situation through her mind over and over. “Eve,” she said, “can you corroborate any of this?”