Jack Cabe

by Timothy Nguyen

  Chapter 31

  Stan mumbled to himself as he pored over a few last-minute calculations and thoughts, and then he spoke to everyone gathered around the map table: Liam, from Scottstown; Seamus, the leader of New Dublin; and some of the British District forces and a few other leaders from the different boroughs and English speaking districts.

  “Alright, so here’s the plan," Stan pressed a button and a large rudimentary hologram projected from the center of the table, "We keep the main road closed and we march in tonight through the various small roads that connect the Inner and Outer Cities. As much as it looks like one, the Glittering Divide isn’t a wall and has its own alleyways. Mr. Culloch and Mr. Perkins have created plenty of flyers and a short broadcast that should temporarily take over the internet and television. Mr. Connally, you will be on the lead for propaganda distribution.”

  Seamus smiled then cheerily piped out, “Sounds like a plan Mr. Vulkov. Now, how’re we gonna do this?”

  Stan replied proudly, “Simple: Mr. Liam here will form a vanguard to break through any defenses they have on these backroads, then everyone will diffuse into small squads of 6 to 8. The extra forces from the UK province will divide into platoons and support everyone else. We are not, I repeat not, going for a loud and proud blitzkrieg here. Remember, we do not have the technological advantage here, so we are going to go for a stealthy infiltration of the Inner City if possible.”

  Stan paused before smiling wickedly, “If this all goes to plan, we can begin the assault on Land’s complex while the rest of Aerotec’s forces are dealing with what’ll feel like a million men spread across New Columbia. We’ll start the assault when we announce our presence via Culloch’s speech, and they won’t even know what hit them."

  …

  “So, Mr. Land, are we really going to doctor those tapes for propaganda?” SI-75c asked through the communication unit in his skull.

  Land chuckled to himself on the other end of the line, “Of course not, but we want Cabe to think that we have. He’s a hero Si, and if he thinks he’s being framed for something and knows he can’t do a thing about it… Well, there are few things worse for a man than losing their dignity and respect.”

  “Very well sir, if you think it will be the best course of action. Though there is an issue," even with the robotic edge, a small glimmer of worry could be detected in 75c's voice.

  “And what might that be?” Land asked, clearly annoyed with the prospect of a problem with his master plan.

  “Well Sir, Mr. Alexander Culloch’s tracking implant stopped transmitting about two days before the incident on the highway. Contrary to most instances of subject death, we were unable to reinitiate contact with the transponder, which has led us to believe that it was destroyed. This was well before any 'official' action was taken against the Resistance, so unless he was blown up or run over, we have reason to suspect that he is still alive,” 75c groaned internally, though -luckily- Land wasn't able to read his few human thoughts.

  Land’s knuckles whitened around the long-range receiver, “You kill a guy’s kid and wife, and he still has the nerve to fight back," he growled from the comfort of his seat, "Send a team of Inquisitors to the last location you have from the transponder tomorrow. I don’t want to be bothered anymore tonight. Initiate Do Not Disturb Protocol 37.”

  Si-75c raised the obvious question, “But sir, what if something happens and I need to alert you?”

  “Si, we have the leader of the Resistance tied to an electric chair in the top floor of a hundred story building that's located in the near-center of New Columbia, miles away from Resistance forces. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could feasibly happen that would require my immediate attention,” Land sighed.

  “If you say so si-” SI-75c was cut off when Land hung up the communicator.

  …

  The planning meeting had dismissed about thirty minutes ago, and Val stood in front of her strike team now: Heavy hitters from Scottstown, sharp riflemen from New Dublin, and her trusty cadre of men and women from the original resistance members. It had grown quickly, and she was proud of it, but now they had a mission.

  “Listen up!” she stood above them atop a sort of soapbox in one of the briefing rooms, “As you all know by now, we are leading an attack into the Inner City, and we are going to rescue Mr. Cabe from the clutches of CEO Land and the Inquisition."

  She paused as if to collect her thoughts, "This is going to be incredibly dangerous, but we leave no man behind. They think we’re nothing but scum: a bunch of rats living off of their crumbs and kept alive only by their will. But we are better than rats. We look after our own, and we don’t bat an eye if we get kicked in the face because of it. So we are going to assault Land’s palatial tower, we are going to find and save Jack, and we are going to get out of there alive. That is our mission, and we either accomplish it, or we die trying."

  Her team sat enraptured in their seats as Val continued her speech, "Jack enjoys the phrase, ‘I will not go quietly into the night’. Well, he isn’t going to, not if we have a say about it. We will raze that entire building to the ground if it means getting him out alive. Because he won’t go quietly into the night, and we won’t let him go into the night bound and gagged. So clean your guns and sharpen your knives. Tonight, we fight.”

  …

  Jack groaned in pain. He definitely had a concussion, and he was thankful that his brain hadn’t been turned completely to mush yet. But if I’m stuck in this chair for much longer… Margaret? Jack jolted up in his chair at the sight before him. The hell… I have not been drinking anything they’ve given me, so why am I seeing dead girls?

  Margaret stood there in front of him, blood audibly dripping from her in the quiet room, her eyes still hollow and lifeless. She spoke happily, “Hiya Mister Jack.”

  “I’ve gone mad.” He cocked his head to the side, eyeing Margaret. Or was that… No, that… That can’t be right… Val’s an adult now...This is Margaret.

  “Or is it Jack?” The voice was distinctly Val’s now, and from this point on would warble between little Margaret’s voice and that of a younger Valerie, “I know you don’t think I’m real. But I’m right here. See?” In another moment she was right in front of him, holding his wrist with an iron grip, “C’mon Mister Jack! You have work to do, you can’t die yet." The drip of her blood had slowed, but it still seemed to echo within his head.

  He spoke with trepidation and marked confusion, “Excepting the fact that I’m talking to an amalgamation of a dead child and a young friend, I can’t really continue my work while being strapped to an electric chair, Margaret. Just as I was unable to help you, I’m unable to help myself. It’s what I get for letting you die I guess,” He bowed his head, “And it’s not like my petty act of revenge matters anymore. I’m just gonna get framed for the murder of thousands. I’ve failed everyone.”

  “You didn’t know, Jack,” the spectre spoke mournfully, “But at least you comforted me as I died, and that means something, even if you don’t realize it. Don’t give up yet. The Jack I know from the streets wouldn’t let a concussion stop him,” It had shifted back to younger Val’s voice, “He’d risk total brain death just to get us some food. You can find a way out of this. You have to.”

  A tear fell from Jack’s eye. “I know.” His world once more faded to black

  Chapter 32

  A few hours later, Stan pressed forward with his men under the Martian twilight, the dim street lights twinkling in the silken and sable darkness like stars. Behind him were about ten men, all of whom he had vetted personally. They were infiltrating the Inner City as they had planned, and miles from here Valerie was doing the same. Besides Stanislav and Valerie, there were hundreds of similar squads -some smaller and some larger- infiltrating the Inner City of New Columbia via back alleys and unused roads, and not all of them were coming from the American Province. A few groups were keeping up the show of resistance at the Crucible, but most of it was just that: show. In all actuali
ty, the few units stationed there wouldn't last more than five minutes against any determined assault.

  Stan and his crew dashed into another alley, thankful that Aerotec was too proud to admit there was enough of a problem to post drones to every possible point of entry. The city itself was practically the same as it was months ago, except now the atmosphere felt much more tense, fearful even. As it should be.

  …

  Val and her team kept close to the walls in back alleys and made their way through the maze of uniform buildings, their walls rising around them like a hive. They generally traveled towards the center of the city -despite the security drone coverage in this part of town they went mostly unseen for several miles- and would arrive at the tower around dawn. But that was if everything went to plan, which it probably wouldn’t. There was so much that could go wrong.

  …

  Jack struggled at his restraints after noticing that nearly every single light around him was dark. He’d been abandoned in here by whoever had been watching him, and the enveloping blackness put a damper on his hopes of escape. If they’re confident enough to keep me locked up and just leave, then this has to be one hell of a secure place… I don't reckon there's any hope of surviving. But he could at least try to wriggle himself out of the electric chair and go on from there.

  …

  SI-75c paced back and forth across the Land penthouse, his steel feet thudding rhythmically against the soft oranges and browns of the wooden floor. He was running calculation after calculation concerning this Resistance issue, and each time he ran a simulation it came out as a sure defeat for the Resistance but he was still unsure. He may be more machine than man, but he still had parts inside him that could worry. They can’t possibly win… Then again, they shouldn’t have been able to grow this fast, and we still don’t know what happened on the road for certain. Hopefully, the search for Culloch will prove more useful.

  He gave his circuits a simple command: Run Resistance Scenario Number 8,312,002.

  …

  The trouble began when a random civilian popped out of their back door to take out some trash, only to call for help when they saw a group of people in black carrying guns and determined expressions. Within moments, a squad of aerial security drones descended on the crew from Scottstown and opened fire.

  The initial firefight was intense and would have been worse if it wasn’t for the squad’s heavy firepower. They opened fire with their heavy machineguns, and moments later the crumpled and shattered pieces of the five or so drones lay scattered through the alleyway. If it wasn’t for the Inner City itself being a large sound muffler, it would have been a lot worse for the other teams. They radioed in the skirmish while they tended to their wounded.

  As soon as he heard the report, Stan ordered for the broadcast to begin. He radioed TC and Culloch in their trailer somewhere to the southeast.

  "Understood Stan, initiating Broadcast 00-01 in three," TC rapidly typed on a keyboard while light blue characters sped across his computer's screen, "Two," Culloch straightened his tie, "one," TC flipped a small switch on his console.

  Every available screen across New Columbia turned to static, whether it was owned by Aerotec or not. Every Inner City television and computer was awash with grey for a moment before an image flipped on: A young man wearing a suit stood against a white background with a Resistance flag behind his back. He looked vaguely familiar to most of the residents of New Columbia, but he was effectively a ghost of a time long past. He held a pile of papers in his hands, all of them with images on them.

  “Hello, residents of New Columbia. My name is Alexander James Culloch, younger brother of the renowned and late Erin Baldwin Culloch, former overseer of the New Columbia multipurpose mine. As you all know, my dear brother was assassinated not too long ago in a seemingly random spout of violence against Aerotec officials. But it wasn’t random,”

  He pulled out a paper from the stack, a picture of the aftermath of a flogging with Erin standing proudly over the body.

  “You see, my brother was a sadistic animal with a penchant for torture and punishment. This is the exact reason Aerotec put him in charge of the mine, in fact. But those of us from New Columbia proper refused to bother ourselves with the trifling travails of the poor street rats and scum that worked in the mine. My brother's death provided the spark that set off the revolution you now see on our streets, a prime example of corruption in the company we practically worship for all the “good” it has done."

  Alex paused to sigh before continuing, "I’m sorry to tell you, but Aerotec is not as innocent as we want to believe. In the days and weeks following my brother’s execution, several more Aerotec officials were murdered, and each one of them was just as bad as, if not worse than, my brother. Take Darren Farrows for example,” A terribly lewd picture of Mr. Farrows appeared in Alex’s hand, the man fondling a young girl dressed in… Could it be? The clothes and appearance of an Inner City resident bedecked this young girl.

  “Oh, he always threw the best parties, didn’t he? Exotic wine and even more exotic meats. But Mr. Farrows was an atrocious pervert and a monster, preying on young children and women, often at the expense of their families. No method was too low for him. This picture, for example, is of my little girl, Eva. She went to school in the first district, made excellent grades, and was cute as a button. Too cute for Mr. Farrows to restrain himself."

  Alex paused and seemed to fight an internal battle not to cry before speaking with a trembling voice, "He invited me and my family over for dinner one day, and I can only assume that he spiked our drinks with just enough drugs to make us fall asleep. I was lucky to hear Eva’s screams and run to her aid. I snatched this photo he had taken too. God rest her little soul…”

  ...

  Across New Columbia, Aerotec’s agents attempted to shut off the broadcast, but whoever had hacked into their systems had done such a good job at it that they couldn’t retake the servers. SI-75c entered into a panic mode, unable to call CEO Land and notify him thanks to the protocol Land had activated.

  ...

  “I’m sure many of you have suffered just as I have. But you were forced to step down from exposing this disgusting filth by CEO Land and his cronies, or maybe just higher management stopped you. But the workers of the mine had it even worse. Farrows repeatedly raped numerous women and even forced large groups of them to entertain his guests. Every single complaint, every single report, and every last detail was, as Manager Dale Perkins states, ‘Forced to the very bottom of the pile and erased by non-civilian management, or downright ignored."

  Alex's voice grew in confidence and strength, "Are you seeing why they are so enraged? Do you see why you should be?”

  ...

  SI-75c raced down to the interrogation chamber and burst open the door, only to be met with leather around his metal throat. “How…. How are you doing this Cabe? How?”

  Jack smiled. He didn't have to know what had happened, but he was glad nonetheless, “Did you really think it was just me out there?”

  …

  While Alex continued his speech by passionately demagoguing and dissecting the crimes of Aerotec’s well known dead, Aerotec was scrambling an army towards the Outer City in the hopes of cutting off the broadcast at its source by razing the entire city to the ground in a last-ditch effort to end the madness before the middle classes and upper classes of New Columbia were thrown into a fit of rage that could result in full out civil war.

  As soon as the first tanks and drones crossed the divide, however, the firefight began in the Inner City. The enemy was behind them now and on their own turf. In a panic, they turned their vehicles around to defend against the forces now openly waving banners and distributing propaganda, but it was too late.

  Val kicked down the front door of Land’s Tower.

  …

  “You see SI-75c, I’m not the only rebellion leader. And us street rats have an inane sense of loyalty and perseverance. In short, you and the rest of
Aerotec are completely done for. Do you really think that they’ll stop with saving me and leaving whatever territory we gain tonight? Oh no. No, no, no. Just as we incited the Outer City to war, we’ll bring the Inner City to its knees.” Jack's confidence was unholy in SI-75c's eyes, impossible even. But Jack's own thoughts betrayed his confidence: I hope we do, hopefully we don’t get lost in a sea of apathy…

  “But that’s impossible! You can’t turn an entire city against their main breadwinner! They’ll have your heads on a pike as soon as times get rough!” 75c began pacing the room in a maddened rage.

  Jack simply smiled, “We’ll find a way Si, we’ll find a way…”

  …

  Alex continued his speech, “Their anger is fully justified, my friends! And they are not here to hurt you, only the corrupt monsters leading Aerotec. We only want to kick the tyrannical out and bring back some semblance of rights and justice. But before I finish, let me tell you one of the worse crimes of Aerotec, to which I was most certainly an eyewitness. Shortly after my brother’s death, I and my little family were sitting around in our living room, and I had my daughter sitting on my lap. I had just heard the news that my brother had been shot dead, and I was just about to break the news to Allie and Eva when a team of black-clothed men burst down my door and put us all in handcuffs and hoods. At one point, they must have drugged us, because the next thing I remember after that moment was waking up in a sterile room and being told that, if I ever wanted to see my family alive again, I would help Aerotec destroy the growing resistance.