Uprising

by Justin Kemppainen

  ******

  Michaels sat in the chair to the left of the High Inquisitor Julian Wresh, who if anything appeared more old and careworn than he did before. His deeply lined face remained scowling as per his usual expression, but weariness and fatigue penetrated his features as well. He didn't greet anyone or say anything at all, save for whispering with the other Inquisitors present. They were so wrapped up that they didn't even comment on Michaels' damp status, which Myers and Dunlevy chuckled at after Claudia related the story.

  Michaels felt uncomfortable sitting next to Dunlevy, considering the events earlier in the day. If Dunlevy remembered or cared about the physical encounter, he gave no indication. The round man laughed and chattered with his usual exuberance. Michaels smiled and went along with it: awkward, uncomfortable, and wet.

  All were present and had been for a few minutes at the crescent-shaped table, but Citizen One had yet to "arrive." Every now and then, the other members would glance over at the podium, where the hologram typically appeared. This suggested to Michaels that it was taking longer than usual. He wondered where the servant was. It was chilly in the room, and he was starting to shiver.

  The two cylinders slid out of the floor, and in moments the image of the young Franklin Lange appeared with an angry scowl.

  A trickle of fear slipped down Michaels' spine at the look on the hologram's face. He shifted his glance back and forth, looking at the other council members. Every one of them looked nervous and uncomfortable.

  Citizen One leveled his gaze on Inquisitor Gottfried. "You called this meeting. It had better be important."

  Gottfried stood up and walked over to the center of the table. Michaels and Wresh leaned to the sides to let him through, and he inserted a small disc into a slot. Through speakers that Michaels couldn't see, they all listened with growing apprehension at the recording. Gottfried stood upright with his arms folded behind his back.

  The strained, nervous voice of the radio operator came through. "This is Technical Sergeant Alan Kilvin from the remains of Alpha base, calling to Citizen Command. Alpha base was attacked, and we were taken prisoner yesterday, forced to relay false information. Captain Redgick is dead. They knew we were coming, and they killed everyone. They're well-trained, and there's nothing we could have done. I'm… oh God."

  Everyone, including the hologram of Lange, jumped as the recording punctuated with the loud bang and the crash and tumble, followed by the frantic yell of the operator on the other end. The speakers fell silent, and no one spoke as it sunk in.

  Lange broke the silence. "What guarantees do we have of the authenticity of the message?"

  Everyone became slightly confused by the question's intent. Gottfried spoke up first. "There is no logical reason for our enemies to endeavor to deceive us in this fashion."

  The hologram raised an eyebrow. "Really? Perhaps it's a feeble attempt to make us concerned, to fear their might, to attempt to gain negotiation leverage over us."

  "That is a possibility," Gottfried replied, narrowing his eyes, "but our updates for last twenty-four hours have shown a lack of progress consistent with the spread of evasive and false information."

  Lange looked unconvinced. "Perhaps. Your assumptions are that they pulled together a military strength capable of defeating our forces."

  Citizen Myers spoke slowly, in his rumbling bass. "They already did it before, a few nights ago, didn't they?"

  A deadly glare from Lange settled on the broadcasting head, who merely raised an eyebrow in return. "Am I wrong? This seems, to me, like the exact same situation. Only this time we don't have any survivors left to tell the tale." Myers continued, gesturing at the recording disk still in the slot. "Only the last, desperate message of a dead man. Hell, we were probably lucky to get that much."

  Claudia and Dunlevy both nodded their heads in agreement. Michaels frowned, and the Inquisitors all wore grim expressions.

  Venom laced Lange's response. "You're telling me that four hundred of our soldiers, trained and experienced, couldn't defeat a loose rabble of that pathetic, half-starved human refuse?"

  Myers shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Wresh cut in, "I myself despise admitting the possibility, but their high level of threat can no longer be discounted."

  Claudia, with a sharp edge, responded, "Maybe if we tried something besides killing and enslaving them…"

  Lange's face lit up, glaring at Claudia. "How dare you?!" he snarled. "We give them opportunity! The opportunity to be a part of this grand working. It is because they are so deviant and barbaric that we need to resort to such measures!" He slowly shook his head, fuming. "They casually cast aside our offerings; they deserve nothing better than death!"

  "Citizen One is correct," Wresh spoke calmly. "It doesn't matter if this message was deception; enough time has been wasted." Michaels heard his own words repeated through the High Inquisitor, but they somehow felt… less right.

  Dunlevy frowned. "What is it you're suggesting?"

  "It's time to cease consideration and employ the contingency plan. Immediately," Wresh replied. The four members from research and information paled at this: even Michaels, who keenly remembered the biochemical agent.

  "It's not ready," Claudia said, shaking her head. "I can't guarantee that the substance will behave as intended. Our Citizens could be exposed."

  The High Inquisitor tilted his head, "You could consider such a situation a necessary evil."

  Dunlevy jumped from his seat. "Monstrous dog!" he roared. "This isn't some deviant rabble you're talking about. These are Citizens!"

  Wresh did not react to the outburst. "Yes, Citizens. Who could use a healthy dose of fear every now and then, do you not agree? All we need to do is inform them," he motioned to Myers, "that it was a horrific attack by those from down below." He snapped his fingers. "Our tolerance of vermin has softened us, allowed us to become complacent and our Citizens with us." He passed his gaze across the room.

  Michaels' imagination ran wild with the thoughts of gaseous fog spreading through the streets of Haven. Male, female, and children Citizens fleeing in terror, writhing in agony on the ground as their bodies disintegrated from within.

  "Besides," Wresh continued, "it will present an excellent opportunity to implicate the more irritating individuals in our midst." Dunlevy's eyes widened.

  Unbidden the image of the burned corpse of Marcus Coleman, jaw wrenched open for dental identification rose in Michaels' mind. In spite of wanting to argue against the High Inquisitor, Michaels believed that Wresh would not hesitate to eliminate anyone, especially not if he could find an easy way to justify it.

  Myers, on the other hand, was having none of it. He joined Dunlevy, standing up, and his deep voice contained hard edges of anger. "You want to use the death of Citizens as a way of eliminating your opposition."

  Wresh shrugged. "Our opposition, my friend."

  Claudia spat, "Don't try to pretend like this doesn't fuel your own ambition, you spineless worm!"

  A flash of irritation came across the High Inquisitor's face, but it melted away, a grim smile splitting the lined face. "I assure you, my friends," the way he said the word 'friends' made Michaels cringe, "that my intentions are pure and motivated only by the duty I feel towards our great society."

  Even the other Inquisitors were frowning at this, and Michaels understood just why Claudia was so upset by his earlier statement. It was true; Wresh practically was in charge of everything. Made most evident by the image of Citizen One, who nodded slowly, in agreement.

  "The High Inquisitor is correct. Although I do not wish to see my beloved Citizens perish, allowing the vermin further time to exist is out of the question. It represents an unacceptable risk to our way of life," Lange said firmly.

  Claudia burst out, "But the weapon isn't ready for use-"

  Lange shot her a glare, and she fell silent. "Then you will work to make it ready. Use whatever staff you need to properly prepare it. You will deploy within three days. Do you
understand me?"

  She stammered, "But… we can't-"

  He cut her off again. "Yes, you can. It will be ready by then." Claudia cringed. Even though they had done little but bicker, Michaels felt sorry for her.

  "Y-yes. Of course." She sat down, folded her hands, and looked intently at the table, not meeting anyone's eyes.

  With a soft ding, the elevator doors slid open. Everyone except for Claudia, who stared pitifully at nothing, turned in their chairs to look.

  The lone servant came plodding up the ramp, holding a clean, pressed shirt on a hanger and a white towel over his shoulder. Lange narrowed his eyes, and veins stood out on his forehead and neck. "What is that doing here?!"

  Michaels jumped up and moved towards the newcomer. "Oh, don't worry, Citizen One: my apologies. This fellow spilled a quantity of water on me," he gestured at his still-damp shirt for emphasis. "Not wanting to be late for such an important meeting, I told him to bring me clean implements."

  The hologram's face became a mask of livid rage. Michaels would have marveled at the technology to emulate the emotions if they hadn't been so strongly directed at him. "How dare you bring someone uninvited into this chamber? Especially this filth, this worthless piece of inferior garbage!"

  Michaels trembled at the outburst. He stammered, "W-well, I uh, that is to say, I'm, uh… I wasn't aware of any-"

  Wresh waved his hand. "Leave him be, he didn't know."

  In a flash, Lange was glaring at the High Inquisitor with the same intensity. "You do not tell me how to run my council or my city you presumptuous oaf!" he roared. "Keep your tongue silent lest I find reason to take it from you!"

  Wresh was momentarily taken aback, but soon he resumed scowling, his own anger barely contained at the rebuke. Lange turned back towards Michaels. "As for you…" the hologram glared, clenching his teeth, "you are a new member of this council, granted. However, from this moment you will be expected to be entirely familiar with all of its specific rules, or you will find that more than just your position removed. Do you understand?"

  Michaels nodded, still trembling. "Yes, Citizen One."

  Lange raised his chin, and the hologram appeared to be short of breath. A sudden weariness seemed to suffuse his posture and his expression. "I-" his voice wavered, "need to rest. This meeting is ended. Ensure you…" the eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds, as though in pain. Through gritted teeth he said, "Ensure you do everything as ordered. That is all." The image shimmered out and the cylinders slid back into the floor.

  Everyone sat frowning or looking confused. The High Inquisitor turned towards his subordinates whispered in harsh tones at them, eliciting grim looks and reluctant nods. The civilian branch of the council shuffled past Michaels, not speaking before they entered the elevator.

  Michaels nudged the servant, who gave him a hollow-eyed stare, completely oblivious that he was the subject of such disruption. He grabbed the shirt from him and hopped into the elevator, motioning for him to follow. Dunlevy, Myers, and Claudia all stood in quiet contemplation as the doors slid shut and the car began its descent. The servant rolled his head around, slack-jawed and looking at various things in the elevator car.

  At the ground floor, the elevator opened, and the occupants dispersed without a word. Claudia, Myers, and Dunlevy all kept their grim expressions, and even Michaels couldn't help but feel the surrounding gloom. Walking back to his quarters, yawning, he realized, at some point, that the servant was no longer with him. Something about his random appearances and disappearances nagged at Michaels. It just didn't seem right.

  Yet there were more pressing concerns. Disruption and division in the council, he thought. Threats flying back and forth. Let's not forget the lack of reluctance to use a horrific bioagent in a method that could harm our own people. He shook his head, yawning again. With all of these troubled thoughts, he wondered if he'd be able to sleep. He tossed the clean shirt onto a chair in his living space, stripped off his damp clothing, and climbed back into bed. His concerns were for naught; he slept soundly within minutes.