The Rogue Thread: (Book 2 of FERTS)

by Grace Hudson

  “The beauty pills, they must be maintained. And the implant markers, our stockpile is lower than I would like… and now the Ward Beacon. Catastrophe.”

  Reno nodded, remaining silent.

  “Operator Quinton was derelict in his track and surveillance duties. A more efficient Operator would have ascertained the fact that the Ward Beacon was out.” He pummeled his fist to his palm, emphasizing his words. “That is why the monitors did not power as expected. The Ward Beacon controls the monitors, and the implant marker for an escaped Internee activates the Ward Beacon. One process precedes the other. It is a seamless chain, a logical sequence. Until you get the result such as we have found here tonight. A small collection of strategically placed explosives and what happens? FERTS is defenseless. Just like that.”

  “How did they…”

  “No implant markers, no activation of the beacon. That’s how they got in. That's how they destroyed the beacon. Months of work, years of planning, obliterated. The rogues exploited our only weakness. How did they know, I wonder, how did they know?” Cerberus’ eyes focused on a spot at the far wall of the elevator, the corners of his mouth tilted up in something resembling a smirk. “You know that there was an escape, some months ago, no doubt you heard.”

  “I heard something. A Vassal, from Beta Circuit, correct?”

  “Beth 259292, 23Y. Vassal, Beta Circuit. Escaped from Vendee Yuri, township of Evergreen. I agonized for weeks over the breach of our regulations. It was my idea, my design. I put forth the idea to Pinnacle Officer Wilcox for the installation of the Township Restoration Beacon. It was my plans that were ultimately approved for installation. No Vassal will escape their Vendee in future, not from Evergreen, not from Oaklance, Lellban or Riversberg. Thanks to my design, a design for which I gained no credit.”

  “The Township Restoration Beacon was an important security measure,” Reno said evenly.

  “The Beta Internee, Beth 259292 must have known something about our systems, no doubt it was obtained from an Officer. There is no telling what an Officer will say under influence of a Vassal and cider. But still, this is unlikely. Vassals do not question. They do not learn and plan such things. There will be repercussions for any Officer who has spoken to an Internee in this manner.” He turned to Reno, smiling. “You would not breach regulations in such a manner, would you Officer Reno?”

  “No, Sir,” Reno replied. Officer Cerberus knew perfectly well that Reno did not care for the services of Vassals. He preferred to train the Internees, not fraternize with them.

  “Nevertheless, there shall be consequences, always consequences. So much to do, so much to organize. Assemble the Officers of Zeta Circuit before morning rations. I will find out who spoke of Zeta Circuit and take appropriate action, according to regulations.”

  “All of Zeta, gone?”

  “Every last one. It matters not, they are not high priority. They were scheduled for… ah, Reno. I forget myself. You have enough concerns in Epsilon Circuit. Your duties as High Training Officer provides a valuable service to the morale of the Officers. These matters of Zeta did not concern you in the past, and should not concern you now. The higher levels are intact. Beta, Omega, all Vassals safe and accounted for.”

  Reno opened his mouth to interject but thought better of it.

  “I do not suspect that a Vassal could have known such things about our systems. Clearly, such a plan must have come from outside forces. These rogues were stealthy but by no means were they intelligent in their planning and execution. To procure the coveted Beta Circuit, or even Omega would have been a far more valuable bounty. Their logic is not sound. They will fetch no profits at all for their paltry collection of Zeta Internees. Foolhardy. These rogues did nothing more than provide the routine service of waste removal for the facility. Were I not so livid, perhaps I would thank them.”

  Reno kept his face neutral, resisting the urge to scowl. He gathered his courage to speak. “I have examined the elevator shaft. The details do not point to common mercenaries. Their methods do not fit with what I have observed.”

  Officer Cerberus remained silent. Reno ploughed on, undeterred. “Whoever did this, planned meticulously. It was a moment of opportunity, executed flawlessly. It is clear that a high level of intelligence was required.”

  “It matters not.” Officer Cerberus shook his head. “None of the Internee population must know of this. The official announcement will be given tomorrow. We will let it be known that Pinnacle Officer Wilcox expired from natural processes, as is the way of things. Do you know, Officer Reno, what the consequences might be if the Internee population were informed of such a breach of our security processes? To know that a common rogue was able to expire the Pinnacle Officer himself? Chaos, Officer Reno. Chaos.” Officer Cerberus squared his shoulders, clenching his jaw. “The Internee population is docile, dutiful. Their minds are fragile, as you know. We do not want any talk of such uncertainty to interfere with the order of things. That will be all, Officer Reno. Go. Investigate. Do what you must to track down these rogues. I will make preparations for the veneration of Pinnacle Officer Wilcox myself. I am the administrator of this facility, and I must continue the legacy of our great Pinnacle Officer. Now go.”

  – 4 –

  “Line check!”

  Officer Reno stood rigid at the railing, surveying the walkways of Omega. The line checks for Kappa, Beta and Epsilon had produced no anomalies, save for a small number of missing Internees. It was entirely possible that the week’s demotions to Zeta Circuit had not yet been recorded and that some Internees were most likely in the Officers’ quarters. Alongside him at the railing, the Officer’s voice boomed through the span of identical doors as the Internees were checked off. Reno flexed his toes, feet remaining firm as he resisted the urge to pace.

  The doors sucked open, revealing bemused Internees in varying stages of sleep and dress. One Internee scratched her eyes, another looked around blearily, attempting to smooth her tangled hair over her shoulders.

  “Internees of Omega. We shall now send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Wilcox and FERTS, for our daily provision and protection from those who would seek to strike against our Vassals, our Fighters and our Internees.”

  “We send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Wilcox and FERTS,” came the mumbled reply. One Internee attempted to return to her quarters before another Internee gripped her arm, keeping her in place.

  “Internees, report as follows. 210.”

  “Report,” came the husky reply. 210 yawned widely, covering her mouth with a delicate, manicured hand.

  “219.”

  “Report.”

  “284.”

  “Report.”

  “291.”

  “Report.”

  Reno remained still, eyes scanning the line of Internees.

  “276.”

  “Report.”

  Something is wrong.

  “244.”

  “Report.”

  “261.”

  “Report.”

  “201.”

  Reno scanned the line of Omega Internees, the blue jumpsuits lined in regulation order, stretching on down the walkway.

  “201.”

  The Officer’s voice droned in monotone, echoing through Omega Circuit.

  Reno followed the line, each Internee standing before their quarters. Each Internee evenly spaced from the next. It was only then that he spotted it. One Internee looked to her left, scratching behind her ear as another looked to her right, revealing the gap.

  “201.”

  “201…”

  – 5 –

  201 sat huddled on a rocky ridge, overlooking the suspension zone. There were no clear paths here, the wildness of the terrain virtually unmarked. The sand of the desert floor was littered with small shrubs and strange tangled growths that blew in the winding winds. The breeze traveled through channels, tunneling its way through towering rocks and shrubs, dislodging sand and loose leaves, paving the way forward for he
r journey. She shivered in the morning chill, bringing her arms around herself for warmth.

  The sky was shadowed in blue, slivered tinges of pink and yellow peeking through above the few scattered clouds. 201 rubbed her arms, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She watched as the sky changed from dark blue to light. The stars faded as the sun crept into view, peeking out from behind a far mountain, washing the desert in a bright glow of orange and gold.

  This was the first sunrise, the first she had seen unfold without the frame of a slivered window to hinder its brilliance. 201’s breath caught as she watched the rocky desert illuminate in sections, shadows dancing across the desert floor. 201 grinned, closing her eyes to the sun as it warmed her face. She smiled until the suspension zone was revealed in garish light. Her cheeks ached, but still she smiled. It was not a practised smile, as specified in her seduction manual, nor was it a Vassal presentation smile. She felt crinkles at the corner of her eyes as she squinted into the sun. This smile was real.

  201 dusted herself off and made her way down the slope of the ridge. She had trained her mind to pinpoint the trail left by the cart. She had wondered if her abilities would leave her once she was free of FERTS, that perhaps once the desire to leave her body had no longer been a necessity, she would somehow lose the ability on which she had come to rely. Instead, she felt her power growing, expanding in the morning sun, her mind clear and free from distractions. There would be no FERTS requital this morning. 201 could almost hear the drone of voices reciting the requital in unison, faces shining with adulation. She would no longer give thanks for the provision and protection of the Officers within those walls. It would be better to expire out here, where she was free, than live trapped as a dutiful Vassal within her quarters at Omega.

  It was getting easier to pinpoint her awareness towards the group she had planned to join on the journey. It mattered not that she had been unable to intercept them before they left the suspension zone. They did not know of her as she knew of them and it would be difficult to explain. She would track them by following the trail, and soon enough, she would find them. She looked at her timepiece. The time read 06:03. There would be no line checks, no more regulation protein at the long tables of the ration room, no Epsilon Games, no Epsilon Chance Wheel. If she was to fight, she would be the one to choose her opponent. The Epsilon Chance Wheel would not spin for her this time. Time was hers, in abundance.

  Later that night 201 lay against a tree, her mind racing. She willed her thoughts to calm down but nothing would stop the influx of images that flowed through her mind.

  She saw a hand outstretched, a scroll clenched within its grasp.

  “What I ask of you is of the utmost importance,” said the voice.

  The figure nodded. He was robed, his face obscured by the hood.

  “The backup plan must be followed. It is exactly as we discussed. I want you to make sure this time. Your instructions are clear. Leave no trace.”

  The voice was unfamiliar, yet the insignia on the uniform was not. The robed figure remained silent, a dark hollow where his face should have been.

  “There can be no loose threads this time.”

  The hand reached out to take the scroll.

  “Destroy it. Destroy it all.”

  – 6 –

  Officer Cerberus sat at the edge of his bed, the morning too quiet, too dark to make out any of the features from his high window. He had ordered a clearing of Pinnacle Officer Wilcox’s personal effects, for the purpose of veneration, he had told them. What he did not mention, and did not fully acknowledge to himself, was that he needed the reminders of the great Pinnacle Officer removed from sight. The nagging, persistent needle at the base of his neck, speaking only to him, repeating the words, the taunts, the fears he thought he had buried deep within.

  You’ll never measure up.

  He knew, on some level, he knew it to be true. Reminders lay scattered all around him. There were stacks of papers, plans, designs, ideas he knew he could never envisage. The origin of these ideas came from a place, a level of thinking that he could only hope to understand. Yet, here he was. The Pinnacle Officer was gone, along with his harsh words, his derision and scorn for his loyal and efficient second-in-command. Gone now, the meetings once held in the audience of the Pinnacle Officer. The specter of Wilcox still lingered, his presence thick within the walls.

  You cannot think this way. Wilcox is gone.

  The calculating looks, the dismissive nature of Wilcox would stay in this room, no matter how many times he called in the Officers to clean it out. He would draw on the wisdom of Pinnacle Officer Wilcox in this time of great change at FERTS. Pinnacle Officer Wilcox had taught him from the very beginning: Every Resident Citizen and Officer gained strength and single-mindedness by freeing themselves from the burden of attachment to a Vassal or worse, an common Internee. The Officers and Resident Citizens were given the chance to rise above attachment in order to create a better society, with a focus on the betterment of the individual. The Officers’ needs were provided for, the Epsilon Games slaking their thirst for bloodsport and drunkenness. The Vassals and Internees provided comfort and release, an outlet for any frustrations, needs that an Officer or a Resident Citizen must satisfy in order to carry on their duties without complaint.

  Some of the Officers, he noted, did not require the services of Vassals. This, he could not understand. Pinnacle Officer Wilcox had always encouraged the Officers to avail themselves of the services that Vassals were trained to provide. A Vassal studied for many years, perfecting and honing the craft of seduction. This was their designed purpose, and a fitting one, Officer Cerberus concluded. Each Internee, each potential Vassal was birthed in order to strive towards an ideal of beauty and servitude. The pleasing aspects of a Vassal always seemed to boost the morale of the Officers and fetch a higher price from the Vendees in the townships. A Vassal was to be admired, venerated. The highest complement to an Internee’s efforts of grooming and seduction was to be promoted, exalted to the status of Vassal. A Vassal was held in high regard at FERTS, the title bestowing a prestige that many Internees could ever dream to achieve. Once a Vassal was actualized, the time was limited. A Vassal would be expected to perform her duties efficiently, dutifully. If a birthing occurred, and a Sire was produced, then all the better as the Forkstream Territories were in dire need of a boost to the increasingly sparse population. Many did not survive long enough to produce a Sire, and Officer Cerberus would seek to remedy this oversight on the part of his esteemed former Pinnacle Officer. He had devised his own solution to this issue, a solution that would double the resources, the profits from Vassal sales and boost the facility’s defenses. It was the only way to ensure the continuation of a stable, ordered society. The only way to continue the legacy of the Pinnacle Officer.

  Officer Cerberus sighed, running his hands down his pristine silver trousers. The tight singlet hugged his barrel chest, his face cleanly shaven in regulation order as specified by Pinnacle Officer Wilcox. He had bathed and shaved according to regulation, his dark hair carefully coiffed into shape. He stood, mindful of his freshly polished shoes as he made his way to the wardrobe without scuffing. The shirt and jacket peered out at him, the silver of the silk material shining as he smoothed his hand over the lapels. He dressed in silence, the lulling piped music filtering through his chambers.

  Mine, now.

  Standing before his long mirror, he surveyed the Officer he had become, his tall frame improving the look of the uniform befitting the Pinnacle Officer. He took another look at the Officer reflected back at him, the last time he would be addressed as Officer Cerberus, his last day as a simple Officer. The best day of his life was beginning.

  The High Ceremonials began at first light, the Vassals assembled in the main Vassal presentation hall. The walls were a gleaming white, the FERTS logo adorning each wall. The metal lettering blended subtly with the smoothness of the walls, the white and red rounded shape abstractly representing th
e Vassal’s birthing organs. Behind the logo were the letters XX, faintly outlined in a lighter metal. On alternating walls was the Vassal logo, the gold V encased in a ring of gold, FERTS lettering decorating the rim.

  The mood was sombre, filled with expectation. Many Vassals huddled together, looking towards the podium. Officer Cerberus appeared from the shadows behind the curtains, dressed brightly in his immaculate silver uniform, full dark hair carefully coiffed, blue eyes glistening under the harsh lighting. His ruddy complexion was flushed with exaltation.

  “Officers, Operators, Vassals. We shall now send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Wilcox and FERTS, for our daily provision and protection from those who would seek to strike against our Vassals, our Fighters and our Internees.”

  “We send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Wilcox and FERTS,” came the uncertain reply.

  “I am aware that many of you do not understand the reason for our gathering this morning.”

  Officer Cerberus took a deep breath, catching the eyes of the assembled crowd.

  “Our beloved Pinnacle Officer Wilcox is expired.”

  A gasp rose from the crowd. A number of Vassals began to weep, their sobs echoing in the large hall.

  “Pinnacle Officer Wilcox expired from natural causes. It was a departure highly fitting of the great Pinnacle Officer. He passed with a quiet reverence befitting the order and regulation we have come to enjoy as part of our privilege here, safe within the protective circle of the great organization at FERTS. Even in his last moments, Pinnacle Officer Wilcox spoke of you, dear Vassals. His thoughts were on you and your unwavering service, your dedication to the coveted role of Vassal.” He gripped the lectern for effect, just as he had seen Pinnacle Officer Wilcox do in so many of his celebrated presentations.