Descent into Mayhem (Capicua Chronicles Book 1)

by Bruno Goncalves

  With the same ease with which the aluminum locker had flown in one direction, Toni saw a cart-wheeling Ian fly in the other and slam upright against the wall, the breath in his lungs being expelled with one explosive “HUMPH!”.

  Gordie wasn’t far behind, and he slammed the top of his skull against Ian’s face with a sickening thunk before, tearing a page from his adversary’s book, he pulled Ian’s dolmen upwards and over his head and wrapped his head with the cloth. Gordie avenged Ray’s beating, slamming his own knee repeatedly against the dolmen-covered head while holding it low.

  He got as far as three knees.

  In a blur of movement, Ian twisted himself around and shredded his uniform into flying tatters, and then quickly opened ground to the very center of the compartment, his arms still wearing their sleeves as he took a fighting stance, his sinewy upper body now bare. Gordie nonchalantly discarded the olive-green shreds in his hands and squared off with Ian once more.

  Then he rushed in like a charging bull.

  Ian spun in place and connected the heel of his boot against the top of Gordie’s head in a full-blown spinning kick. Inertia conspired to close the distance between the fighters and Gordie slammed heavily against Ian. Regaining his balance with unnatural agility, Ian then let loose an unbelievingly fast combination of blows against his adversary’s body and head.

  It quickly became clear the fight was over.

  “Enough!” Toni bellowed, but Ian only halted once the group had closed the distance, backing up against the wall as if in full expectation of a lynching.

  “Leave him alone!” Toni hollered as some made to move towards their senior. He wasn’t alone in the thought, and others pulled at sleeves and dolmens to keep the more belligerent cadets away.

  Toni sat Gordie carefully upon one of the beds. His comrade wasn’t bleeding much, nor had he fallen to the flurry, but his eyes were vacant and he was not answering questions. When Toni asked for the third time whether he was alright, Gordie vomited onto the pristine compartment floor, splattering a couple of beds along with Toni’s boots.

  “Wonderful, just wonderful!” Ray wailed as he assessed the puke-stained cover on his bed.

  “Ray, shut it!” Toni barked, “Something’s wrong with Gordie. I’m gonna take him to the infirmary. See if you can clean up all the crap, alright? Ray, leave him alone, he’s had enough.” He added, since Ray had a look that suggested that he also wanted to try his luck with Ian.

  “He has, has he?” A quiet voice inquired from the compartment’s entrance.

  Lieutenant Templeton placidly observed the group from the doorway. It was the first time they’d ever seen him in civilian clothes, and he looked as smart as the devil himself. Black, neatly pressed suit, dentine white shirt and a honest-to-god black bow tie to top it all off. His ebony shoes squeaked as he shifted his lean weight about.

  “And there I was in Leiben, attending my nephew’s baptismal, when I receive an odd message from the shift officer, cautioning me that my children are misbehaving on their day off, of all days. Who could have anticipated that?” He speculated as he casually paced along the room’s extension, avoiding some underclothes and biscuits spread across the floor.

  “And so I thought I would leave the matter until tomorrow. Until I received a second message saying my cadets were now threatening each other with bodily harm. And in formation, no less,” he added pleasantly as he snapped his fingers before Gordie’s vacant eyes. Gordie didn’t flinch, nor did he blink until a full second had passed by.

  The LT continued.

  “So I decided to make a brief trip to MEWAC, the last place I’d want to be on a Sunday, by the way, about as soon as the festivities were well underway,” he looked up at a battered Ian, who bled from his nose and several cuts on his brow, and who had taken up a posture that was somewhere between at ease and attention.

  “And this is what I find ...” he breathed. There was no expression in the lieutenant’s eyes. For a brief moment commander and cadet appeared very similar indeed.

  “Very well, then,” he said, smiling once more, “Mr. Toni and Mr. Raymond will take Mr. Gordon to the infirmary. Mr. Ian will take himself there as well. The two female cadets will remove themselves from these quarters immediately, in full knowledge that their violation of MEWAC regulations will not go unpunished. The remaining cadets will now begin cleaning their compartment until it is impeccable, and they can expect their quarters to be subject to inspection by shift personnel in the next thirty minutes. And I will be informing the shift officer and your Company commander of these events. I guess that covers everything, unless there’s something else?” He asked, as if honestly expecting someone to say yes.

  “No? Very well then, on the move. I will see you all tomorrow.”

  The lieutenant calmly strolled out without a backward glance. A couple of seconds passed by without anyone moving at all, but when they finally did, it was with an ever mounting sense of urgency. One cadet began to wipe a substantial amount of vomit from the floor with his personal hand-towel.

  Bad choice, Toni thought, I would have gone for Ian’s towel. It’s right there on the floor along with his other belongings.

  He and Ray removed Gordie from the casern and grimly set off for the infirmary, Ian already well ahead of them on the parade ground.

  “What do you think they’ll do to Gordie?” Ray asked.

  “Don’t know, maybe they’ll take pity on him ...” Toni replied as he gazed at his mate’s defeated expression.

  *****

  “It’s only a concussion ...” the doctor muttered as he squinted at the display screen on his lap. A moment later he seemed to remember that he wasn’t alone and turned to Toni.

  “And just what in hell is wrong with you, cadet?” He asked, peering curiously at the cadet.

  “Nothing, sir. I just brought him in here.” He replied in surprise.

  The doctor was a civilian, one of the many who worked in MEWAC, but Toni still felt obliged to sir him. He was a man in his late forties, with a deeply lined face that made him look somewhat older, and he had sad eyes. He probably wouldn’t be around much longer, at least not in MEWAC. Over the last month, many civilians had been pulled from the unit, probably because nobody wanted any civvies lounging around the base in the eve of a shooting war. One simply can’t ask them to be running those kinds of risks, the brass had apparently said, although he had heard many of the Stable boys were being kept due to their intimate knowledge of the Suit installations.

  “That’s not what I mean, son,” the doctor replied sourly, “You are Cadet Toni Miura, are you not?”

  “Yes, sir. How did you know?”

  “I’m psychic.” He replied dead-seriously. A twisted smile then began to play across his face, “Or I just read your nametag. You know, the one pinned to your chest.”

  That was enough to put an embarrassed smile on Toni’s face, but it dissipated as the doctor became somber once more.

  “What I mean is that I’ve orders to harvest you for stem cells. Now why would they have me do that, boy?” He pressed. Toni shrugged in reply.

  “Haven’t a clue, sir. I was fully tested those weeks before day one, and the researchers seemed pretty satisfied. But if they want more blood, they can have it, no problem.” He answered levelly enough, although his blood pressure began to drop at the thought of needles and blood loss.

  “Son, they don’t want blood. They want stem cells. Autologous stem cells, to be precise. It’s not going to be as painless as, say, a needle prick, so you’d better prepare yourself for some real pain. You’re going to lose some marrow ...” the doctor stated with a grim smile, “Take your shirt off and sit over there ...” he ordered bluntly, waving carelessly at a metal cot as he began to remove instruments from a drawer.

  “Uh, marrow?” Toni inquired softly, blood draining from his face. The doctor looked irritated by Toni’s lack of immediate compliance, but answered him anyway.

  “Yes, boy. Marrow. Bone mar
row. Sweet, juicy bone marrow for your Commander’s evening soup. Now you go sit over there before I start telling everyone that you’re a coward.” The doctor threatened.

  The threat proved to be just enough to get Toni moving.

  *****

  Thirty minutes later, a semi-comatose Toni was rolled, color slowly returning to his ashen face, into the rearmost of the infirmary’s two recovery rooms.

  “Pathetic –” the medic said under her breath, her expression akin to pity, “– that a Suit driver could be so queer about needles.”

  Toni tried to counter but his teeth were in his tongue’s way, and so he abstained from speaking. Instead he focused his attention on the ceiling, his head still spinning wildly. The medic tisked and finally made her way out of the room, leaving him to recover and think.

  While performing the horrendous deed, the doctor had inquired about what would lead Toni’s family to believe he suffered from a folic acid deficiency. Confronted with the cadet’s teeth-clenched silence, the doctor had continued with his procedure and his monologue, explaining how MEWAC had received an urgent letter from a certain Kaya Miura, declaring the need for her brother to begin supplementation as soon as was possible. The doctor hadn’t gone so far as to establish a direct connection between the letter’s contents and the present procedure, but there had been no need to.

  He reminded himself to thank Kaya appropriately for her sisterly consideration.

  “You fell too?” He heard from his right.

  Slowly turning his head, he found Rakaia lying on her side on a cot. She seemed to have regained some of her color, and her eyes had the look of not being too far from sleep.

  “Nope. Doc just poked a needle in my spine. We’re no longer in formation.” He explained.

  “What’s the noise outside?”

  “Gordie’s probably awake again. Must be making another try at Ian. It’s been a hell of an afternoon ...”

  Toni recounted the events to his comrade.

  “Oh no! This is just what I need!” She groaned.

  “You weren’t even there, Kaia –” he began.

  “Who cares?!” Rakaia interrupted hotly, “Since when has not being there been any excuse to stay out of trouble? For the error of few, many will pay, right?!” She recited before she realized what Toni was doing.

  “Hey!” She suddenly exclaimed.

  “... hum?”

  “Stop checking me out, you freak!”

  As Toni teetered near sleep his eyes had begun to roam over the curves of her body. He hastily snapped them back to her face.

  “Oh ... sorry. I’m just a little worn out.” He apologized.

  “So that’s your default programming? As if you have a chance, gawker!”

  “Maybe it is, I guess ...” he replied apologetically, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t think well of you. I respect you, Kaia. There’s a lot of buzz on base about you guys, but I –”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “That ... that Leiben’s attackers were Terminators like you. That there’s been a lot of unauthorized military development over there, which would be necessary for such an attack to even be possible. I don’t believe any of that, of course, there’s been too much focus on the iron mines ...” he added, disliking the murderous expression that had begun to form on her face.

  “Stay off my side, gawker! I’ve had the entire base giving me the evil eye over the last month, but not even that has made me so desperate as to want you on my side!”

  Her tone grated on his depleted nerves, her insults hitting harder than they ordinarily would have. He tried to hold on to his temper.

  “I guess I didn’t make myself understood. Just because I was being friendly doesn’t mean I was trying to be your friend, Kaia. You Terminators sure don’t seem to need any ...”

  “And just what the fuck do you fuckers know about the Terminator hub in the first place?!” She shouted, “Maybe we drink the blood of newborns, right?! Or maybe we’re born with horns on our foreheads, and need to have them surgically removed so that the decent, law-abiding gawkers of the central government don’t see our mark of the beast! Right?!

  “And why the fuck are you calling me Kaia, huh? Are we buddies, maybe? Mates? Do you think you’re going to make friends with me if you give me cute diminutives? Want to get in my pants? Do you, Gaw –”

  “I wouldn’t dream of pulling the pants off a bleeding sow like you, Kaia!” Toni heard himself say.

  Rakaia blinked.

  “For all I know you were born with a horn up your ass, and needed to have it removed so you’d be able to sit down and study like the rest of us. That’s the real reason you Terminators are illiterate, isn’t it? And how the hell would you be able to potty without removing it? Not sure I even want to imagine that, KAIA!”

  Rakaia made to answer, but then paused and stared closely at him.

  “What’s wrong with –”

  “So you feel the eyes of the world on you? Do you, now?! Well you’re not imagining it. People on base don’t trust you people, Kaia! I, at least, was willing to respect you. And I can still respect you, just as long as you’re willing to show a little gratitude!”

  Did I just say that? He thought in astonishment.

  He willed himself to shut up, and they stared silently at each other for a few moments. Finally, Toni let his breath out and slowly unwound, and before a minute had passed he was finally prepared to say the words.

  “I’m sorry, Tani. It’s been a long day and I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” She asked.

  The question hurt him deeply and he was not entirely able to hide it. He spoke without thinking.

  “I like you, Kaia. I mean, I like you in a way I really shouldn’t ...”

  For a moment, Rakaia’s wide eyes remained fixed on his, unblinking, the tendons of her neck standing out in stark contrast to her soft throat. She seemed about to say something, but instead her body shivered as if a particularly unpleasant thought had just flashed across her mind. Finally she broke eye contact and sat up.

  “Not if you were the last man on Thau.” She hissed softly.

  A few moments passed by as Toni digested the statement. Apparently calm once more, Rakaia politely addressed the wall. “I think I’m quite recovered. I’m leaving now. Excuse me.”

  She quietly left him sitting there.

  For a long while, Toni was simply too stunned for thought. The first thought that did find its way into his consciousness, however, arrived in the form of a question.

  What in the hell is wrong with me?

  CHAPTER TEN

  MEWAC medical bay, 19H15, 19th of May, 2771

  The confrontation with Rakaia left Toni horrified. Not with her, of course; the Terminator had always rebuffed the cadets surrounding her, and he would never have expected anything other than the same for him. It wasn’t what she had said that distressed him, but his free-running mouth instead, and more specifically, the words it had uttered. Most especially, it was the feeling that had accompanied the words that were jilting his nerves.

  The feeling was not entirely unfamiliar.

  Over the course of his training, there had been moments when the pressure mounted alarmingly. In those times, a terrible thought sometimes crashed into the midst of his consciousness, yelling that he had finally reached his limit, and that it would all be so much easier if he simply gave up and took the Walk. At first he had simply ignored the thought and, more often than not, those moments were fleeting enough for the tactic to work.

  But then those critical moments had begun to stretch out, and simply ignoring the voice was no longer a practical option. It eventually became something to put up with, like Mason or the tics, any attempt to smother the voice only resulting in it squealing even louder in more desperate instances. It began to harass his spirit and slowly he had begun to hate the voice, and then that feeling had begun to make itself known. His memory tended to
become hazy whenever that happened, and he would eventually return to himself afterwards in the shower, another critical training session having been accomplished without incident, his only memory of the session that feeling.

  A feeling as if he was no longer alone in his own mind, that there was another consciousness to be reckoned with, one which held grudges, which took revenge, which felt itself entitled to more than a fair measure of divine selfishness. There was no pity in it. That intrusive stranger would laugh whenever Toni agonized, and indeed he could hear a sniggering despite his present solitude. Closing his eyes, Toni focused on the emotion and sought to reach out and make contact with that hidden facet of his self.

  He let go of his self-pity and felt himself approach the stranger. He abandoned his empathy, and closer he crept. He rose out of the trench that was his life and looked down upon it, observing the shoddy workmanship and the haphazard way it interconnected with those around him, and he sneered at it all. The feeling was becoming very strong. He accepted that he was of no worth. How tremendous it was, life. He had no value in the midst of it all. The myriad trenches surrounding him were better organized and kept, for the most part. They accommodated platoons, whole battalions, even, while his accommodated a young boy who didn’t even know how to speak to members of the opposite gender. He sneered once more, his fangs showing. None of that mattered, of course. No matter how many virtuous lives needed to be snuffed out to validate his own insignificant existence, the deed would be done. No matter that his genes were defective, whether they be folic acid deficiencies or something even more sinister, he would pass his genes onwards. He would engineer his way into the Terminator’s unworthy womb, even if he had to forcefully pry her lily-white thighs –

  He began to tremble as the horrible imagery paraded before his mind’s eye, the stranger smirking slyly beside him. His emotional self began to tear itself apart, the horrified rejection of the delicious possibilities opposing itself to the epiphany of a draconian world view. A savage dogfight broke out in his mind, and his body began to shake and shudder.