by P. L. Camery
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ISBN: 9781543954449
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Covert Agents
Chapter 2: Tension on the Home Front
Chapter 3: Mental Cases
Chapter 4: Risk
Chapter 5: Traitors
Epilogue
Chapter 1: Covert Agents
Democris, the city below ground,
Taking strength embedded in rock,
In ideals so foreign yet sound,
But which few care to take stock.
Lawrence Richardson paused his scribbling as the ominous presence came into his peripheral. Slowing his pace to a stop, he turned and waved, careful to keep a disarming smile as he made sure the female figure could make out the single horizontal bar tattooed to his wrist, indicating his upper cast status. He watched her gaze dart over the mark then flash with disappointment before she resumed her patrol. The Imperial Police, or IP, short for “idiot police” as he liked to call them, were so unbelievably eager harass the public. As if punishing all the slightest transgressions could make up for the fact, they could not make the cut for the Army of Hassdrin. They were not and could never be Guardian’s elite enforcers, the rebel hunters.
Lawrence smirked at the IP’s receding figure. Although the old-fashioned pen and paper writing would have been a serious offence among the middle and lower casts, this seventeen-year-old boy could get away with it. The responsibilities and expectations of being an upper cast member could afford Lawrence the privilege of writing his own private thoughts; a luxury made impossible by the surveillance of government tablets and phones issued to each citizen of Hassdrin. Although the physical presence of peacekeepers seemed redundant in Lawrence’s mind, considering the nation’s technological capabilities, they were nonetheless kept around as an archaic symbol of the institution, an extension of the Guardian’s eyes. A very peripheral extension perhaps, but still, a symbol nonetheless.
The boy spotted a street bench with only one other occupant, a girl with her tablet plugged into the right-hand side outlet, giggling at what was on her screen.
He settled himself at the opposite end, amused at how even the absolute surveillance made possible by the Age of Entertainment could not guarantee absolute control. There were still those smarter than the system, and smart enough to implant glitches in the system, to hack the software which filtered everyday activity and video feed, to speak vaguely so that only others who knew could interpret what was said. And most importantly, they were smart enough to know the status quo was wrong. That the cast system brought restrictions and injustices that the majority of Hassdrin was too comfortable to be bothered with. They were smart enough to be rebels, and not only that, but smart enough to build bases, whole cities just a few hundred feet below the ground, right under the Guardian’s nose yet out of sight. Smiling at the thought, Lawrence continued to write.
We may not live in the great city,
But live citizens of its rebel ideal,
Oppression looks down and with pity,
They are blind to the truth that we feel.
Lawrence reread is notes and scowled. He crossed out the previous line and replaced it with, eyes blind to the truth that we feel. Slightly more satisfied he nodded to himself.
Yet within the stone there is a flaw,
A single crack to tear us down,
If struck too hard strong stone will fall,
And bow down to Guardian’s crown.
But
The boy was forced to stop as a hand collided with the back of his head. He raised his fist on instinct and jammed it into his friend’s shoulder. Caleb Short, also of the upper cast but two years his senior, dramatized a flinch then rubbed the injured area, “Hey that hurt!”
Lawrence smirked, “No it didn’t.”
“True enough,” Caleb reached out to take his friend’s paper but Lawrence pulled it away, “Come on underclassman, either show me what’s so important or come join me among the living.”
“C, none of the above.”
“No, C is for Cal, which means you’re coming with me.”
“There’s absolutely no logic to that statement,” Lawrence returned his attention to the paper and jotted a few lines.
Cal shrugged, “Each to his own.”
Rolling his eyes, Lawrence stood and folded the paper into his pocket, “What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking, we can go bug your sister and that middle cast girl she hangs out with, the one who moved in from Gildon County, what was…”
Lawrence straightened to attention, his eyes brightening, “Mavis?”
Cal shot him a knowing grin and the younger boy averted his gaze, scowling again, “Yeah that’s the one.” He tugged on Lawrence’s arm. The boy yanked it free; but followed his friend anyways.
They passed three blocks of sleek skyscrapers sporting flashing holograms, signs advertising this TV show, that movie, or the latest trending games and apps. The bottom floors of each building housed storefronts, a few of these were old fashioned necessities such as clothing and food but most were crowded congregation centers where the customer could converse among friends and, of course, charge their phones, tablets, and other electronics. Each center had a slightly different atmosphere, giving a variety of locations with different music and scenery to enjoy. Scattered among these were a few premium centers with virtual reality rooms and inductive charging stations. Why be bothered with cords when you had the money to charge your device simply by being somewhere? All congregation centers housed food and drink bars as well as a support center for malfunctioning software. Truly a beacon for the age of technology and comfort, Capitol County was easily the most advanced district in all Hassdrin.
Cal and Lawrence passed all this by with little interest and turned the corner to follow a narrow street. Once they came to an old shoe store called Footwear, they waved to the middle-aged desk clerk as they made their way to the back room. Being one of the older rebel entrances, the usual modern elevator was substituted by a dimly lit spiraling stone staircase, which Lawrence much preferred for its ancient ambiance. The boy maintained what he hoped was a casual trot, although he suspected Cal knew he was barely suppressing the urge to take the steps three at a time.
Once they reached the bottom, Cal took the lead saying, “I messaged Destiny earlier, she and Mavis were walking around the South Plaza and should still be there.”
The buildings of the underground rebel city, Democris, were shorter versions its sleek counterparts up above except for the additional plant life favored by the environmentalist subgroups within the rebel society. The South Plaza was one of the biggest centers in the rebel base, and home to an array of shops which comprised the black market.
Lawrence was first to spot their friends, but he said nothing to Cal and observed for a moment as they emerged from a store with a sign flashing Tools of the Trade. Destiny seemed animated, complimenting Mavis as she showcased a new pair of earrings. Lawrence smiled to himself when he saw the jewelry, his parent’s design, a flat silver star adorned with sapphire crystals around the perimeter. The silver part, when squeezed on both sides, functioned as a recording device from which a conversation could be uploaded with a scanner which came with the earrings. A clever tool his father had made meant for the tips of objects, so that seemingly mindless
fiddling could activate the recorder. It was his mother though, who had imputed the fashionable applications.
It’s too bad, the boy’s smile faded, and he dropped his gaze, it was one of their last projects…
“Hey, is something wrong?” Cal asked glancing back at his friend. But before Lawrence could respond Cal was clapping him on the back and exclaiming, “Look, there they are! Let’s go.”
“OMG Mavis,” Lawrence watched as Destiny squealed in excitement, “They look amazing! I wonder what Stripes is going to think about them!”
“Stripes?” Lawrence asked, struggling to keep his tone casual.
His sister ignored him and continued, “I bet you he’ll think you look stunning. I mean you always look stunning, but these are so you!”
Mavis smiled at the prospect, “I’m going to see him this afternoon; he has a game today.”
“Who has a game today?” Cal asked.
“Oh, no one in particular,” Destiny said, nudging Mavis, “just a certain someone.”
Mavis rolled her eyes, elaborating, “It’s this boy from school, you remember me telling you about Stripes don’t you Cal?”
“Who is this person?” Lawrence questioned. “Why do you call him Stripes?”
Destiny shot him an annoyed glance, but Mavis continued, “He’s one of my friends from the University. I call him Stripes because he’s an up and coming army officer. His dad is some bigshot five-star general with a bunch of medals and such.”
Cal crossed his arms, “Yes I remember, you should really be careful with him, Mavis. Just cause he’s your boyfriend doesn’t mean he won’t shoot you like any other rebel. Shooting rebels is the whole point of still having the oh so mighty Army of Hassdrin nowadays. There’s no one else to fight.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Mavis responded hastily, “it’s not like that.”
“He’s so lovesick he couldn’t raise a finger against her,” Destiny beamed. Typical Destiny, Lawrence thought, rolling his eyes, always preoccupied with some romantic fantasy or another. It’s a wonder she doesn’t get demoted to second cast by her shear whimsy.
Mavis elbowed Destiny, but she brushed it off and continued, “You should see the way he looks at her, like his face just literally lights up. Like your phone when you let it die and finally charge it again. Bam! Bright! Half the time he even forgets about Kara when Mavis is around.”
Lawrence narrowed his eyes. Kara? Great, more people I don’t know.
“But what I mean is,” Mavis cut in, “he’s not very committed to the whole rebel hunting thing, he mostly heads small scale security teams when he isn’t studying at school. And his focus is on writing and evaluating regulations for new army recruits, how to optimize training performance and stuff like that. He’s as academic as you can get and still be in the army.”
“Still,” Cal said, shooting Lawrence a conspiratorial smile, “I think you’d be a lot safer with a nice rebel boy.” The younger boy crossed his arms glaring at his friend.
Mavis laughed, “What are you my mother? I like him though. He can be real sweet. And most of the time he just makes me feel,” she paused, crossing her arms to consider, “he makes me feel special I guess, like really special, like he sees something in me that’s fundamentally me and would be there regardless of what cast I’m in. Even here among the rebels, people tend to assume cast status is some indication of a person’s capabilities, and it’s nice to be appreciated for just me.”
“Is that so?” Lawrence’s deadpanned, “Please, do elaborate on how he makes you feel this way.”
Mavis shrugged, “It’s just in the way he treats me, like when we talk, I feel like I have his full attention and he actually considers my thoughts and ambitions, he doesn’t dismiss me because I’m some dime a dozen middle cast student.”
“And he’s a total stud!” Destiny cut in, “He’s the captain of his Risk team. Didn’t you punch him once Mavis, just to see if you bruised his six pack?”
The girl blushed, “No! That’s ridiculous, Dest.”
“Well you so should,” Destiny suggested, “I think it would be quite the worthwhile experiment.”
“So- Cal,” Lawrence cut in, “Want to go to the shooting range or something?” All three heads turned, startled by his sudden change in topic. The boy shrugged, “What? I got bored.”
Destiny rolled her eyes, “Of course you did.”
“To be honest that sounds much more exciting than obsessing over army boy,” Cal conceded. Then he turned to Mavis, “No offense. You two can come with us if you like.”
“No, Destiny replied, “I’m such a fail at shooting. I can watch but that’s about it.”
“And I have to go actually,” Mavis said, glancing at her wrist unit, “the game starts in an hour.”
Lawrence felt his shoulders drop but he did his best to feign nonchalance, “Yeah, sure, that’s cool too. I guess I’ll see you guys later then.”
*****
“Hey Mavis, come sit over here!” Mavis straightened at the sound of her name and scanned the crowded stadium for its source. When she spotted the girl frantically waving her arms, Mavis dropped her gaze and casually slipped into an empty space a few levels lower. Second later she gave a mental moan as she felt someone squeeze into the space next to her.
“Oh, hi Kara,” Mavis feigned surprise, “I didn’t see you.”
Kara smiled and raised one arm for a half hug, “It’s okay Mavis, I know how absent minded you can be.” The rebel girl stiffened, but her companion didn’t seem to notice as she scanned through her messages. Mavis pulled out her own phone, pretending to check her email while she instead focused on the arena below. The area was a circular stone maze, about a hundred yards in diameter, walls standing erect at a full height of seven feet. Mavis made a mental note of scattered weaponry and dead-end zones meant to force the players into battle. At opposite ends of the arena, she could just make out two orbs. One red and the other blue, each served as the focal point of the opposition.
“So, I just know that Roland is going to win!” Kara declared, clasping Mavis on the arm and shaking her from her contemplation, “His stats are through the roof this year!” To emphasize her point Kara pressed her phone in the other girl’s face, presenting a flattering picture of Roland in uniform adjacent to a five-star rating, a list of numbers and probabilities and a book’s worth of fan comments.
“You mean his team is going to win,” Mavis pulled herself free of the other girl’s grip and gently pushed the phone towards its owner.
Kara rolled her eyes, “Well yes, his team. But everyone knows that Roland is the one who is going to get the other team’s orb. Which one is he after again? The blue one?”
“Yes.”
“Look, look!” Kara returned her grip to Mavis’s left arm and bounced rapidly in her seat. “Here he comes!”
The center of the stadium parted and gave way to a circular platform divided in half by a stone wall. On opposite sides, each team wore a military styled uniform which matched the color of the orb they were to protect. Mavis managed to wiggle her arm free again as she scanned the red attired players, allowing herself a brief smile when she spotted Roland joking with his teammates. Then an alarm sounded, and the spectators hushed and straightened to attention, all phones and tablets momentarily forgotten as a light hum announced the arrival of another platform lowering from above. The massive plane of metal hovered over the center of the stadium then turned perpendicular and flickered to life, revealing a double-sided TV screen featuring middle aged woman flanked by soldiers on each side. Her icy blue eyes wore a blank expression staring straight ahead, her hands folded over a mahogany podium. The soldiers on her right wore blue uniforms and those on her left wore red while she sported a purple suit, meant to symbolize the unification of both sides.
The armed men raised their weapons and everyone in the stadium rose. Out of habit, Mavis followed suit, but when the mob spoke, she bit her lip, stiffen
ing at the eerie drawl of the masses.
“We pledge ourselves, our lives and the lives of our friends and family to the great nation of Hassdrin, the country of our ancestors, of ourselves, and our children. And we believe in the Guardian, our leader, our peacekeeper, who had devoted her life to our wellbeing. We trust her unconditionally to always know best and how to protect us. We know that although we may not always understand the intentions of the Guardian, she knows all and will create peace, no matter the cost, for the citizens of Hassdrin.”
When the pledge had ended, a soldier from each side stepped forward, speaking in unison, “Presenting the Guardian, Alandra Elias.” The crowded stadium exploded with applause and the matron let them carry on before raising her hand to summon silence.
Then she sighed and began, “That’s enough of formalities, I think it’s time for some action.” The crowd roared in approval and Mavis rolled her eyes at the Guardian’s coy smile.
“Oh, she’s so wonderful, isn’t she?” Kara whispered to Mavis as she raised her phone to document the occasion, “Greatest. Guardian. Ever.”
Uh-huh, Mavis thought to herself, knows how to play the crowds if nothing else.
“Now, I know you don’t want to listen to me drawl on and on, giving a boring speech about unification and whatever else you aren’t interested in.” She paused, smiling again at the collective chuckles exclamations of approval, “After all. I am the Guardian. I know what you want, and how best to give it to you. So then, without further ado, let the championship game of Risk begin!” There was another alarm, and the screen slip into closeups of each team as the players broke into a sprint. Mavis’s eyes immediately locked on Roland as he led his team of five into the maze.
The game progressed in a blur, highlighted with scenes of Roland fighting, Roland hit, Roland up again, Roland running, Roland barking orders for three of his teammates to protect the orb as he and the other two were off in pursuit, Roland separated from his comrades, him cornered, him kicking off an enemy player’s chest to pull himself over a wall, him diving for the blue orb, victory. By the time it had ended Mavis was horse from screaming and so excited she could almost block our Kara’s aggravating commentary. The crowd was abuzz with energy as Mavis waited in her seat. To her annoyance Kara waited with her, but after a few minutes the other girl finally tired of Mavis’s monosyllable responses and turned to flirt with the boy next to them. Seizing on Kara’s distraction, Mavis sprang to her feet, dodging spectators who were still rapid-fire messaging or taking pictures as they made their way out of the stadium. When she arrived at the locker room entrance, Roland was waiting outside of the doorway, still uniformed and speaking with animation to two of his teammates who were watching highlights of the game on their tablets.