System Seven

by Parks, Michael

The sirens grew louder. Somewhere in the house a clock rang the hour.

  The woman reached up to touch the swollen sockets where eyes once rolled. Infection created pockets of pus that pressed against the severed optic nerve. She rode the pain.

  At first she couldn’t believe they had left. Released, she acted savagely and without reserve, sure a mistake had been made. The little wench became the powerful witch and drove twenty-two men to kill one another. The bodies of Xian Shung and his mistresses adorned the upstairs bedroom where she had artfully arrayed them in death. The revenge was shallow, localized. Bastion was who she wanted retribution from yet he was also strangely absent. Team Three said only that she would be kept isolated until situations stabilized.

  Vans belonging to the local police kicked up gravel upon arrival. Bodies on the front steps would confirm the caller’s report. The two guards turned against their will and took aim at one another from across the kitchen. The two shots sounded as one and they fell to the floor, the last witnesses.

  She pulled the blanket tighter and followed the police in their discovery of the compound’s horrors.

  Chapter 32

  Revolution, in order to be creative, cannot do without either a moral

  or metaphysical rule to balance the insanity of history.

  - Albert Camus, 1913-1960, French Existential Writer

  Johan stepped from the train onto the sunny platform at Murcia in the southeast of Spain. Near the station entrance a man in a yellow and blue windbreaker turned and began walking. Johan followed him to the parking lot. They climbed into a red Citroen C4 and set off on the highway for the Spanish coast.

  They rode in silence as the city fell behind and the hills of the Baetic mountains rose around them. Johan used his phone to finish reading the article in the Mirror Online about the British playwright, Harold Hughes, who’d been among those arrested in a child pornography sting. His lawyer issued a statement indicating his client had been framed as retribution for not paying out to a blackmail threat.

  Marco looked over. “As I said, uncommon awareness.”

  He put his phone away. “Some would call it freakish, now.”

  “Not that bad, I hope.”

  “Not exactly bad. But freakish, yes.”

  “Maybe later you can show me what you mean.”

  “Maybe. Is she there?”

  Marco nodded. “Soldado, too.”

  A patrol SUV with Guardia Civil markings passed them. The untrained sweep of meta told the same story as Italian police forces had. Spanish peacekeepers were on edge in the wake of what the media was calling los Dias de Diablo, the Days of the Devil. Not far from the truth, considering what Bastion had launched. The domino effect would take months if not years to stabilize – provided a truce with Maria held.

  While a central power vacuum never appeared to form, the Comannda faltered in the days following the ingress at the Core. A period of obvious command and control issues resulted in frozen or exposed operations, dangling intelligence structures, and the triggering of sometimes violent self-sealing mechanisms throughout the ranks of Groups Two and Three. In a sense, the Comannda experienced a Scattering of their own; the first ever recorded.

  “How’s Samantha?” Johan asked.

  “She’s got a green thumb now with those plants on her sill. That was a nice gesture. She’s loving them. Otherwise nothing new.”

  Five days prior, the blog produced a clear message indicating the return of Maria to a state of grace at the controls of the Comannda. What it lacked was an indication of intent.

  “Neutrality is difficult in times like this.” He watched the passing hills.

  “Anything pressing you?”

  Johan shook his head. “Only the korjé, searching still. Nothing of the others.” He looked to Marco. “Any word on Austin’s dad?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “We’ll have to work on that.”

  Three cars lined the driveway at the house in Bolnuevo. Marco and Johan entered the front room to the sound of light applause. Soldado, Sean, and Rachel stood along with a smaller woman whose aura was veiled but still unmistakable. The stranger came forward and slipped into Johan’s embrace. He pressed his lips to her head, thankful for Anki’s presence.

  She looked up. “Holding in there?”

  “Yes. You?”

  She shrugged. “Knowledge is a hurtful thing.”

  “If we’d known that before, would we have not tried?”

  She stared back, holding on to her reply. There had been no choice. “I’m told there’s a surprise in store for me this evening. At this point, I absolutely hate surprises.”

  “No clue what it is?”

  “No, just that it’s something big.” She didn’t admit to being scared but didn’t have to.

  Sean greeted him with a handshake. “I told her not to worry but she won’t listen to me. Is Austin going to make it?”

  “Not likely. He’s still holed up with Kaiya in the ship, responding to only the biggest emergencies. I’m trying not to bother them.”

  Anki said, “I’d say they’ve earned as much quiet as we can offer.”

  Soldado came over and hugged both Johan and Anki. “Good to see you, hombre. Close call.”

  “No shit. Thanks for everything.”

  “Wish I’d done more. Totem busted my game.”

  Johan nodded. The encryption sequencing had changed across all Comannda networks.

  “There’s still a small chance my Booty2 survived somewhere on their net. If so, I might hear back from it in time.”

  “Here’s to hoping.”

  “Okay, okay, let’s go people,” Rachel called from the kitchen. “This food isn’t going to make itself and I sure as hell am not doing it alone.”

  The group spent the afternoon putting together dinner. Rachel and Anki ran the kitchen and had Marco and Johan grating cheese and chopping vegetables. Sean sat at the table and shared with Johan in recounting their recent and narrow successes.

  Maria’s conspiracy threaded through key areas of the Comannda. Vital to her plans were the three Volgograd research teams. With six members each, they had worked toward and recently achieved a state the Korda referred to as dùnadh, or joining – something the Korda had previously been unable to achieve. When joined, the korjé became exponentially more capable in Saoghal and presumably in Raon. Team three was the most powerful, with team one being the weakest.

  Second team had contained Maria while third team had captured Johan and later held Cathbad. It was team three that had sworn secret allegiance to Maria. They insured second team’s bodies were killed to free Maria and then helped Austin and Johan with the Council itself.

  The risks of Johan joining the dùnadh had been great and were still cause for concern. He’d had little choice at the time, but in joining with team three he shared himself on deep levels. Identity, core desires and fears, and techniques had been laid bare equally by all seven. Liabilities were born at the same time new understanding bloomed. What that meant for the future wasn’t clear but the exchange allowed both sides to reach their immediate goals.

  “Do they know you learned the method of dùnadh?” Rachel asked.

  Johan shrugged. “I’m guessing yes. Joined like that, everything flows. It’s all laid bare.”

  “So what’s next?” Soldado asked.

  “We work on strengthening our Confrere and rebuilding the families,” Sean answered. “We’ll see what Maria’s plans are. Many of the new geopolitical structures remain in place. I suspect System Seven has begun, like it or not. We face the Conflict as long as the world is still hostage.”

  “What about the Mu?” Soldado asked. “Did they help Austin with the AG ship?”

  “We’re still not sure. Whoever he was in contact with warned that the Mu weren’t all they claimed to be. It could have been a Mu whistleblower or it could be another race.”

  Johan didn’t mention the Pure or the Owners and the Factions they controlled galaxies wit
h. Until he was able to verify what he’d experienced, there was no sense in complicating things.

  As if sensing an omission, Sean said to Johan, “I’ll want to spend some time with you recollecting your capture and release, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t know about everyone else, but all this is making me very, very hungry,” Rachel said. “Can I get some help setting the table?”

  Dinner and drinks carried them past nightfall and out onto the deck. Stars overhead lent the gathering a timelessness and purpose that was unmistakable. Johan leaned against the railing with his back to town. He’d noticed four times the number of guards as before and more in a neighboring house down the hill. Bràthair folded the night air in a wide ring. Expectation raised the hairs on his neck.

  Sean joined him. “Figured it out?”

  “Someone important arriving?”

  “Can’t put anything past you.”

  “But who?” Johan asked.

  Sean nodded towards the headlights on the road. “You’ll see.”

  A black sedan rolled up the drive. It stopped and two passengers emerged from the back seat. An older man dressed in black looked up and waved. The other was a younger man. Together they headed for the entry.

  Sean announced the guests’ arrival as they stepped out onto the deck. “Please welcome our patron and respected friend, Father Eduardo Apodaca.”

  The white collar was missing but the look was complete. Edward appeared and felt like a veteran clergyman. “Beautiful night for a party. Good to see you all again. I’d like to introduce my old friend, Steffan Lawrence.”

  Anki sat up and held the arms of her chair. Her vibe shifted and it was Clare that stood and stared.

  Edward smiled. “I believe you remember Steffan, Ms. Clare.”

  She hurried to him and fell into his arms. For a moment it was apparent to all that mother and father and daughter shared the loving embrace. Soft applause mixed with congratulations.

  Edward went to stand with Johan.

  “Father Eduardo. Have you come to receive my confession?”

  Edward smiled. “Thank you for the hard work in training our bràthair. It might have been months or longer before they figured out dùnadh.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it would have taken more than a few encounters with their teams to get the feel for it.”

  “If they survived, that is. I also wanted to hear directly from you on Cathbad’s leaving.” Edward made himself available.

  “I see.”

  He summoned the memory and set the scene for them both. It played out as it had, complete with his own decision to stay on.

  Edward nodded, his gratitude powerful in the moments following.

  “Have you found anything of Austin’s father?” Edward asked.

  “I was going to ask the same of you. He had to have fled or been taken after being shot.”

  “Contact with Maria?”

  “None.”

  “Be careful there.”

  “Oh, I know.” Johan turned to the railing and looked out at the coast. “Let me ask, have you ever thought maybe the Runa Korda and the Comannda are part of something bigger?”

  Edward joined him. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Like two chopsticks, being used to accomplish one goal.”

  “I rather think they are at odds, don’t you?”

  “Unless there is something greater working the sticks.”

  Edward studied him. “What else happened out there?”

  Johan looked over. “I’m just thinking big picture. Do you suppose we would realize it if we were being played?”

  “You could drive yourself nuts imagining things.”

  Johan chuckled then shared his encounter with the Pure.

  Edward took it all in and responded with a frown. “If true, this changes things. The Mu wouldn’t be just observers, they would be guards, agents of a Faction.”

  “Which explains the warning Austin received about the Mu.”

  “But who helped him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That space, it needs to be explored. Work together with dùnadh to better understand it.”

  “It’s literally chaos. I’m not sure taking them there is a good idea.”

  “You made it okay.”

  “No, I fell down the Rabbit Hole and someone lifted me out. I’ll get back to you on that. There may be a way to do it safely.” He sipped his drink. Maybe the Pure would help. “So why else are you here?”

  Edward turned to receive a glass from Rachel. “Gracias. Would you believe to thank you for being who you are and for doing all that you’ve done?”

  “I might.”

  “Actually there is one more surprise for Anki. Or rather, Clare.”

  “You’ve found her a new host.”

  Edward nodded. “Should be here within the hour.”

  “How will it affect Anki? Clare’s been there her entire life.”

  “The absence will no doubt be substantial but we think so will the freedom. Duality has its own burdens. She’ll need you.”

  “I’m there.”

  “I know. Time for a toast.” He turned to the group and gathered their attention. He spoke to them but also to the thousands of Korda who would receive the Words and someday, perhaps the world.

  “Despite the recent and ongoing horrors and tragedies, tonight we have reason for gratitude and hope. Our understanding of reality has expanded, offering the opportunity to create a better framework for the rise of all of mankind. The long journey towards disassembling the ruling empire has reached its most challenging and intriguing miles. We have found the Change and replaced the most hostile Comannda leaders. I cannot imagine a better indication that we have followed the right trackways to the future we desire. You all have my sincere thanks for making it so.” He raised his glass. “To Johan, Austin, and Anki. To Cathbad, Javier, and to Mug. To all those lost and whose fate is yet unknown. To surprises and friends to share them with. To long life, and to change!”

  Chapter 33

  To know how to disguise is the knowledge of kings.

  - Cardinal De Richelieu, 1585 – 1642, French Statesman

  Doreen König stood in the kitchen rinsing breakfast dishes and listening to news on the radio. Her husband Karl had just left for the hardware store to pick up supplies to repair the drooping roof on the hencoop. She suppressed mild anxiety at his absence and focused on the news.

  Out the window, the morning’s snow lay stark against the blackened timbers of George and Faiga’s barn. Memories of that night still frightened her. At some point it would be torn down. The sooner the better.

  She put a mixing bowl in the dishwasher. A pair of headlights on the lane caught her eye. A gray Land Rover slowed at the Bergmann’s drive, came to a stop, then turned in. She saw only a driver.

  “Oh dear.”

  She toweled her hands and quickly went to the side of the refrigerator to unclip a piece of paper. She carried it with her to the den where she found Karl’s binoculars. Back in the kitchen, she turned off the lights and raised the glasses to spy on the visitor.

  At first he just sat there, parked next to the house, staring at the barn. There wasn’t enough light to see his face clearly. She glanced down at the sketch though she really didn’t need to. The face it portrayed had already been burned into her mind.

  The car door opened and the man emerged. He stood for a moment and then turned to look in her direction. No, directly at her. She shivered and put the glasses down, relieved. At least it wasn’t him.

  The man walked towards the barn a few steps and again stopped, as if unsure. She used the glasses to watch him, lost in the wondering of who he was. He turned towards the house then and came upon the front porch. He rang the bell. With no answer, he knocked on the door.

  Nothing about him felt dangerous. It seemed possible it was a friend who had not heard. She decided it would be worth it to go and talk
to the man. If she hurried, she could be back before Karl returned. Knowing she’d gone over to meet a stranger at the Bergmann’s would anger him no end.

  • • •

  She came out finally, donned in boots and a winter coat, responding to his manipulation. She was worried the Butcher of Rotterdam was back to finish the job. What exactly had happened he couldn’t tell and worry demanded he get the full story. George and Faiga weren’t home and hadn’t been by the feel of it.

  Since the night he’d left, he hadn’t dared to reach out for fear of bringing harm their way. In truth, he’d also been afraid of what he might learn if he did. His love and regard for them made not knowing a gnawing thing that he had to resolve. Coming to visit under a ruse would allow him to know.

  He turned to his car as if to leave and acted surprised when he saw the woman approach.

  “Hello.”

  She nodded. “You’re looking for the Bergmanns?”

  “I am. George and Faiga?”

  “I’m Doreen, their neighbor.” She accepted his offered handshake.

  “Are they on vacation?”

  “Who are you, may I ask?”

  He introduced himself as Ben Roth, a reverse mortgage specialist.

  “I see. Well, they aren’t on vacation and they won’t be needing your services. They’ve moved to a care home. The place is for sale.”

  “Ah, a care home.” He turned to look at the barn. “That looks recent. What happened? Everyone okay?”

  “Yes, no one was hurt. Arson, they say.”

  She had a story involving intrigue and the Butcher and needed just a nudge from him to feel comfortable telling it. From her thoughts he knew the gist of it without asking. They’d had the murderer in their home and later, when the barn burned, they attributed it to him. It burned his soul to think of Faiga thinking of him that way.

  There was no helping it. He imagined finding Faiga to explain things and having the Korda repair George’s mind but knew it wasn’t a reasonable thought. They were near their own natural end, in the world they knew. He had to fight the impulse to change it.