by Eli Ingle
“Humph” was all the Captain had to say.
Rigel and Rona, seeing no point in arguing, started to remove the covers from the boxes, making sure everything was visible. Considering that rations were all they had on board (and even these were dwindling), Rigel did not think they had much to hide.
Arriving at the gate, they were signalled to approach by the guards. Rigel looked at them with interest, expecting them to be similar to the guards outside Kozenia. In this he was wrong: these guards wore metal helmets whose brims extended down to their eyebrows and the backs of their necks. Three strong ridges ran along the centre and either side of each helmet. Hinges at the brim held a set of glass eyepieces that could be folded down to make covering goggles. They had pieces that covered the nose and mouth that ended in two small blocks, making up a small gas mask. Tough plated armour covered their bodies – it looked like black leather, heat treated to be even stronger – with round shoulder plates and extra pieces reinforced with sheet metal to protect more sensitive areas like shins and forearms. They wore black gloves and had rifles slung over their backs. Bowie knives and pistols adorned either hip along with several pairs of handcuffs. Finally, thick soled, studded boots. Rigel gulped, feeling uneasy – it was not a very welcoming sight.
Laurie allowed the cart to creep closer and then stopped it by the gate. The guards moved around and waited at the back until Erdiz lowered the ladder. Without invitation, they moved up and began searching the contents. Rigel and Rona kept their faces lowered, not wanting to be scrutinised by these dangerous men. One of the guards nodded to his colleague and they retreated again, entered a guard house and waved them forwards. The portcullis consisted of two sets of bars that fell diagonally – one set to the left, the other set to the right – with each set retracting a moment after the other. Erdiz pulled the ladder back up as the second guard waved them through. Laurie pushed down the lever and raised a hand to the guard. The man stared at this gesture but did not return it. Laurie lowered his hand again uneasily.
Rigel was expecting to see houses and shops but was surprised – instead a second barrier with a guard house and a gate with a second archway leading off to the right. A rustling behind him made Rigel turn around.
“Have your papers ready,” said Uncle, holding out a pile of his own.
“We don’t have any papers,” said Rigel.
“What?!” exclaimed Uncle, his eyes bulging in their sockets. “But you need them!”
“We’re fallouts, remember,” said Rona. “Where would we even get papers from?”
“Oh this is not good, not good at all,” said Uncle, wringing his hands together.
Laurie began to ask: “What’s wrong with not having—”
“Papers,” demanded a guard, his hand outstretched. Uncle hurried to the side and handed his over. The guard looked expectantly around at the others.
“Er, they’re … they’re with m-m-me,” said Uncle.
“Papers,” the guard repeated, his hand making an impatient ‘give them to me’ gesture.
“We don’t have any papers,” said Laurie, standing up straight. Uncle put his face in his hands.
“You shouldn’t have said that,” he groaned.
“Code 11!” cried the guard as about six others streamed out of the guard house, surrounding the cart. “Please step down from your vehicle.”
“I don’t see how that—”
“Please step down from your vehicle.”
“Now look here, you—”
“Please step down from your vehicle.”
“They’re fallouts!” moaned Uncle, managing only two words. Rigel was not sure where the sudden fear and cowardice were coming from, but he hoped the old man would have enough knowhow about the situation to help them through it.
“Take them for processing,” said the first guard, looking bored already. He opened Uncle’s raft of papers. “Hang on! You’re Ludo Gretner. Code 27!” he shouted.
“No! Not Code 27!” gasped Uncle. “Please, not Code 27!”
One of the guards grabbed Uncle and began dragging him towards the main gate.
“What are you doing with him?!” Laurie demanded. “Hey! Get off me!” The rest of the guards had moved over and begun restraining the other travellers, taking them towards the archway on the left. Rona screamed and began kicking at her captor, her boots thudding harmlessly off the reinforced leather and metal plating. Realising it had no effect, she swung her legs up, straightened her torso and then brought her feet backwards again. Propelled with the force of her own movement, she smashed both her boots into the guard’s face. The gas mask and goggles should have repelled most of the impact but the severity of it actually caused more damage as the glass smashed and flew into his eyes and the gas mask crushed his nose and lips, making him fall to the floor, unable to breathe as blood poured from his face. Rona completed the flip and landed gracefully on her feet.
“Anybody else?” she offered, flashing them a dangerous look. Rigel laughed, expecting the guards to run off. Instead, the one holding Erdiz let go and pulled a small gun from his holster. Taking aim, he let off several shots at Rona. It made a weird twanging noise and before Rigel could even try to stop it, she had been shot. A green dart hit the artery in her neck and she fell unconscious to the floor, pink bubbles frothing around her lips. Leaving their comrade on the floor, the guards grabbed Rona and dragged her along whilst escorting the others. Rigel managed to get one last look as Uncle was pulled through the main gate. Then they were marched inside a holding room and placed on a wooden bench, locked inside and left.
Erdiz hurried over to Rona and checked her pulse.
“They’ve just sedated her,” she reported. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Impressive moves,” commented Jhoan.
“Yes, I remember when I was that flexible,” sighed Erdiz, smiling slightly.
“What was that? Two hundred years ago?” laughed Laurie. Jhoan snorted.
A door at the other end of the room opened and a short man as round as a beach ball entered, the buttons on his uniform bulging. He brought with him a smell of used hay and strong alcohol as he shuffled over to them. His hair was greasy and thin, clinging to the edges of his head whilst the top was bald and shiny, flakes of dandruff dusting the top like snow. A young man, nearly bent double, chased in after him carrying a wooden chair, which he placed in the middle of the room. The fat guard sat down on it and gestured for the younger one to go away. He wrung his hands nervously and scarpered out of the room again, banging the door behind him.
“Can you tell us why we’ve been brought here?” asked Laurie. The man held up a hand for silence. Rigel was expecting him to start talking but he remained close-lipped. The creaking of the door made them alter their gaze and they watched the young man hurry back inside with a tray of coffee, cream and sugar and a plate of thin biscuits. Rigel smiled slightly, appreciating the gesture, and started to feel more at ease but then frowned when the man put the refreshments beside the fat guard with only one cup. The young man hurried back out again. The fat guard put a tablespoon of sugar into his cup, followed it with full fat cream and then poured in the thick, hot coffee. Stirring it, he took a sip before slowly dunking and eating and then repeating the process until the plate of thin biscuits had gone. Watching the ceremony, the travellers grew more discontented until they were on the verge of rebelling. Jhoan snorted, moved over to the door they had been pushed through and turned the handle but found it locked. He moved to the back before suddenly realising that the other door only had a doorknob on the other side. The guard poured himself more coffee, lacing it with heaps of sugar and cream, before finally turning his attention to them.
“So,” he grunted. It sounded as though the weight of his own fat was compressing his windpipe. The breath whistled in and out in struggling whoops. “No papers.”
“Yes, we’re sorry about that,” began Laurie.
“Sorry?” jumped in the guar
d. “So you know you did something wrong?”
“Well, only because Ludo told us about having papers.”
“So Ludo has been telling you about our protocols?”
“No, only that you need papers.”
“So he was collaborating with you?” asked the guard, sipping his coffee.
“Collaborating suggests something has been done wrong,” said Erdiz, lifting a finger.
“I wasn’t talking to you, old woman,” snapped the guard.
“Excuse me!”
“Excuse you, what? Have you done something wrong?”
“We haven’t done anything wrong!” growled Laurie.
“So you’ve done everything right?” asked the guard.
“What does that even mean?”
“You tell me, seeing as you are so obviously aware of all our protocols here,” he said, the corners of his thin lips pulling into a smirk.
“I think we should have a lawyer,” said Jhoan.
“A lawyer!” mocked the guard in a high voice, sounding nothing like Jhoan. “I think we should have a lawyer! Why? Have you done something wrong?” His normal voice returned.
“No, but if we’re being questioned like this then a lawyer would be a good idea.”
“A lawyer suggests legal representation,” said the guard. “Representation given to criminals.”
“We’re not criminals,” protested Jhoan.
“Then why do you want a lawyer? We’re only talking.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“We were told we would be processed,” said Laurie. “This feels like an interrogation.”
“You tell me,” replied the guard. “If you’re so aware of our processes, surely you should already know what’s happening?” He sipped more coffee. Rigel watched as it dribbled down his chin. He did not wipe it away.
“We only know what we’ve been told.”
“Which is obviously quite a lot, by the sound of it,” retorted the guard. “Tell me, what else do you know about this place?”
“Only that there’s a mayor,” said Jhoan.
“Shut up, you idiot!” hissed Laurie.
“Oh! So you do know some other things?” latched on the guard, his piggy eyes shining delightedly. “And you,” he said, turning to Laurie. “You’re obviously not happy with your friend here giving out your information. What else are you hiding?”
“We’re not hiding anything!”
“That’s a bold statement, considering I’ve just heard you say something you claimed you didn’t know a few moments ago.”
“Oh this is ridiculous!” cried Laurie. “You’re twisting everything that we’re saying.”
“I’m just trying to interpret what you are saying properly,” said the guard, spreading his arms in a modest gesture. “Who are you to criticise my working methods? I do not question how you do your job …. What is your job, by the way?”
Jhoan opened his mouth but Laurie pressed his hand against it. “Don’t answer that,” instructed the Captain, folding his arms. “We refuse to answer any more questions.”
“Then how can I discover the true purpose of your visit?” asked the guard. “From your statement, the only thing I can interpret is that you are spies sent here to collect information on us ....”
“We’re not spies!” replied Laurie hotly. The guard smiled.
“See, that was easy now, wasn’t it? You didn’t even last one minute.”
“Laurie!” growled Rigel.
“He was putting words in our mouths.”
“He’s playing you,” replied Rigel.
“We’re not spies; we’re travellers,” said the Captain, “and that’s all I’ve got to say on the matter.”
“Well, a spy would say that …. How do I know you’re not sleeper agents programmed to enter here as travellers and then turn into spies once you’ve got inside … no? Well, you wouldn’t know, would you? Or perhaps you’ve blackmailed Ludo and forced him to return to the city in order to pay you off … maybe you’re thieves and using the pretence of being travellers to get inside the city walls with a thorough alibi!”
Laurie rolled his eyes but managed to remain tight-lipped. The guard took another long sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving the Captain. As he took his cup away, more liquid slipped from between his lips and ran down his chin, settling in the groove there. He smiled as he looked over the group.
“Perhaps talking to you individually would be beneficial ...,” he said, his eyes finally settling on Jhoan. “You seem eager to be out of this situation, my good man; perhaps we could talk first?” He stood up with some effort and shuffled over to the bandit. “If you would be so kind?”
“No.”
Quicker than their eyes could register, the guard slapped Jhoan across the face, the flat sound reverberating loudly in the small room.
“Get up.” He grabbed Jhoan’s hand.
“Get your hands off me!” Jhoan growled.
“Jhoan, calm down,” warned Laurie.
“Jhoan,” said the guard, turning a delighted face to the bandit. “So that’s your name!”
“You idiot!” Jhoan hissed, trying to kick Laurie.
“Steady now Jhoan,” chuckled the guard, the sound coming out like bubbling mud. “Don’t get too overexcited. If you’d just like to step this way with me.”
“Get. Off. Me.” Jhoan had that dark look in his eye again that Rigel did not like.
“You’ve got to stop him,” said Rigel, “before he does something stupid.”
The Captain stood up and moved over. “Jhoan, you need to calm down now,” he said.
“Yes Jhoan,” snuffled the guard, “better behave for daddy.”
“I said enough!” roared the bandit, pulling the bowie knife from the guard's belt, twisting round and pressing it to his neck.
“Go on, chief,” snorted the guard, almost giggling. “Do it. See what happens to you then.”
The bandit tightened his grip on the handle, pressing it towards the skin. “I want you to squeal, squeal like the little pig you are!”
“Jhoan stop it!” shouted Laurie.
“Do it,” said the guard. “Do it!”
Jhoan growled and swore in a language Rigel did not understand, despite the translator in his ear, and loosened his grip on the knife, shoving the guard forwards. The man rubbed his thick fingers against the blade indent in his throat.
“That was probably a wise decision,” he said. “Now follow me.”
Jhoan gave them a desperate look over his shoulder before being led out of the door. It shut with a hollow boom.
“This is going well,” commented Erdiz, lighting a cigarette.
“Perfect,” growled Laurie. “We need to get out of here before we get thrown into prison for being too liberal.”
“What about Jhoan?” Rona asked.
“He’s more than capable of looking after himself.”
“We can’t just leave him!” Rigel protested.
“Do you want to get out of here or not?” Laurie snapped as he moved over to the front door and began examining the keyhole.
“I wonder where Uncle is?” pondered Rona.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Ah! There you are, Ludo!” said the Mayor, looking up from his paperwork. His voice was rich and welcoming, washing over the old man like mature brandy. “I was so … excited when I heard you had re-entered the city. Please, have a seat.”
The guard from the front gate led Uncle to the most uncomfortable looking chair by the desk and thrust him into it, before standing to attention as he looked at the Mayor.
“At ease,” said the Mayor. The guard left them. “Would you like a drink?” He held up a glass decanter of some amber liquid. Uncle shook his head, too cautious to accept anything from the man. Despite the signed photographs of them shaking hands at Uncle’s going-out ceremony, the old man still did not trust the Mayor – he had heard too many sto
ries about his foul temper and tendency to lace his enemies’ drink with poison … the slow acting, painful kind at that ….
“Very well,” he said, waving a hand and pouring out a large glass for himself. Uncle looked at the Mayor’s hand and noticed how the large glass was dwarfed by his huge fingers and palm. The man was huge.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to write to you before I set off,” said Uncle, deciding that caution was the best tactic to start off with.
“I should think so!” replied the Mayor, downing half his drink. “If I’d have known then I could have thrown you a returning party.”
“Really?” This was not in character.
“No, Ludo. No, I would not have. It is fortunate your arrival was seen by only a handful of guards. Had any of the townsfolk seen you, it would have been most disastrous.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Things have changed since you left, Ludo. People are rioting and things are creeping around the city at night. It isn’t right and it isn’t proper. They want to leave and I’m afraid I cannot let them do that.”
“Why not?”
“We’re on the edge of civilisation here, right on the fringes of where it is possible to live. We set an example for the rest of Endirin. If people were to suddenly come along and start rocking the boat, what message would that be sending to the rest of the Realm?”
“I’m sorry, I thought people were free to do as they wished.”
The Mayor laughed heartily at this suggestion. “What a wonderful joke, Ludo!”
“Would you care to expand on such a statement?” asked Uncle.
“Seeing as you don’t have long left or much scope to spread this around, yes, I think I will expand. Here on the fringes, we’re aiming to maintain the population in a … manageable way. Call it an experiment if you will. A shape of things to come.”
“And what is the shape of things to come?”
“Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” the Mayor replied as his eyes twinkled.
“Why does my coming back rock the boat?” asked Ludo.
“You disobeyed orders, and if people became aware of that, they might get the wrong impression – that they can disobey their orders. We can’t have that.”