Kevin huddled in the doorway, wrapping his arms
around his shoulders and stamping his feet in an attempt to get some
warmth into them.
Nice one, Kev. Next time, would it really hurt you to
check the weather forecast before making your big, dramatic exit?
The storm had broken after he'd been
walking for most of the morning. After another ten minutes, even Kevin
had given up and ducked into the nearest building to wait it out. That
had been almost six hours ago, and it still showed no signs of abating.
The acolyte had passed the time by indulging in fantasies involving
Cross and several starving carnivorous rats and then, when the
entertainment value of this wore off, by trying to think of a good
reason as to why the hell he was going back to Libria in the first
place.
After all, if they think I'm dead, maybe I could just...
Could just what, Kev? Leave Libria? Right. And you plan
on going where exactly?
Kevin grimaced, then risked sticking his
head outside, wondering if he could possibly make a run from building
to building. He wasn't in any great hurry to get back to Libria, but he
didn't want to hang around in the Nethers for any length of time
either. He didn't think Cross would waste time following him
particularly not in this weather but as Kevin himself had proved, not
all sense offenders were friendly to each other.
He wished Barrett was still around. He
was getting better though; two years after the old man's death, he
could sometimes go for an entire day without thinking about him.
Okay. So if I run now, I can probably make it to the
next building without too much trouble.
He glanced at the building in question
and felt his spirits sink even lower. It was dilapidated even for the
Nethers; at least the one he was in at the moment was relatively dry.
Well, there was no sense putting it off.
He stepped outside and was promptly drenched in a matter of seconds.
Water ran down his face, plastering his hair to his head and almost
blinding him.
The acolyte took a deep breath.
Alright, any time some weird cosmic force wants to give
me some kind of omen...something to suggest I stay where I
am...anytime...
Lightning cracked down, striking an
ancient telegraph pole not ten feet away from him and splitting it in
two. The noise, followed by the stench of ozone, was almost deafening,
and left Kevin's mind dazed and somewhat confused.
There was a crash of thunder, causing Kevin's legs, which were slightly
more up on current events than his brain seemed to be, to propel him
back inside as fast as possible.
An omen along the lines of graffiti or
a cryptic warning from a hooded stranger would have done just fine,
he thought irritably.
What was it they said about lightning?
Either you stayed away from trees because the lightning would hit them
and they in turn would hit you, or you kept close to trees so
the lightning would hit them and not you. Kevin supposed there wasn't
much to choose between them, although you could probably dodge a
falling tree without too much difficulty.
His mind started to wander randomly,
looking for something to occupy it, and finally settled on Jacobs'
disappearance. What had happened to him? Was he hiding somewhere in a
building similar to this one, watching the same storm? Had he been
taken by the Resistance? Or had DuPont simply arrested him and used
that as an excuse to set up Kevin's assassination?
Kevin grimaced, remembering snippets of
his last conversation with Andersen. If his performance in class had
been anything to go by, Jacobs had been either pretty stupid or, just
possibly, very smart.
Yeah. You think DuPont would've made life hell for a guy
who was only ranked seventh in your year? He's only interested in the
best, Kev, and given how often you like to brag, it's no wonder he
fixated on you. You should've followed Jacobs' example; you could've
sat at fifth downwards and been high enough to avoid any undue
attention.
For the first time since he'd found out
about the other acolyte, Kevin wondered if everything Jacobs had done
including his screwups in class, which had already taken on a legendary
status had been a part of his charade. If it hadn't been for the fact
that Jacobs had been both off the dose and able to sleep through an
earthquake, never mind his roommate's nightmares, Kevin suspected he
would probably have been arrested years ago.
He leaned against the wall moodily,
looking around the dingy room. The stench of damp and rot was almost
suffocating, and he was just considering the possibility of the ceiling
giving way and crushing him when something wet, sodden and vaguely
human almost flew through the door and got there first, their own
momentum sending them crashing into the acolyte and knocking the breath
from his body and, Kevin thought sourly, it wasn't much consolation
that the impact had sent his assailant flying as well.
That was as far as he got before instinct
took over and the acolyte snapped both guns out, clicking the safeties
off in unison, then stopped as two new thoughts hurtled across his
brain, the first of these being, Holy shit, it's a girl!
Kevin had known on an academic level that
there were female sense offenders. He'd just never come face to face
with one before, at least, not outside the Palace of Justice, and the
idea of them being under the age of about thirty was also one he was
having difficulty grasping, which might have accounted for the second
thought that could loosely be translated as, And she's no older
than I am!
He continued staring openly, not even
aware of the fact that he'd lowered both his guns. Aware of his
scrutiny, the young woman tossed her hair back defiantly which would
have been a lot more impressive if the hair in question hadn't been
soaking wet and stared at him keenly.
"Yes, I'm an offender, in case you hadn't
already guessed. But don't even think about arresting me!"
She had amazing eyes, Kevin noticed.
Clear, bright blue eyes, which set off her dark brown hair perfectly
and hidden behind his dark glasses and almost against his will, his
eyes dragged themselves downwards and yes, he thought, probably even
her
At which point, both Kevin's brain and
Kevin's survival instinct combined forces and finally managed to put
Kevin's libido in a chokehold long enough to drag it kicking and
screaming out of the equation.
"Why not?" the acolyte demanded, keeping
his voice and face properly impassive. "You're feeling. As a Grammaton
acolyte, it is both my right and my duty to take you in for
questioning."
"And your pleasure, no doubt."
"I don't feel pleasure," Kevin said,
which, he supposed sourly, wasn't too far from the truth. "I just want
to do my job. Name?"
"What's it matter? You think the
technicians are gonna care?"
"I wouldn't know about that," Kevin
answered. "I just need it to make out my report."
She glanced away, then suddenly leapt
upright, launching herself at him from the floor, fingernails hooked
into claws.
And if I'd been a sweeper, she
might've got me, Kevin thought, his body ducking out the way
automatically and twisting behind the girl to put one arm in an
excruciatingly painful lock, ignoring the choice imprecations she spat
at him, his mother, his grandmother and every female relation of his
dating back to pre-Libria. He'd heard them all before.
Great. Now what do you want to do with
her?
Kevin's libido conferred with his
hormones for all of half a second before promptly weighing in with a
suggestion, one which was squashed instantly and firmly by his survival
instinct and equally firmly, although somewhat more reluctantly, by his
brain. He shook his head irritably, fighting to clear it. Was this how
all teenagers off the dose felt? If so, no wonder all the rebels seemed
to wait until their twenties before chucking the Prozium.
Something jolted deep within him,
something which seemed to heighten his senses while narrowing his
perception. He was suddenly, almost painfully aware of the fact that
the person he was holding was a woman, of the texture of her skin and
the swell of her breasts under the drab polo shirt and leather jacket
she was wearing. He could hear her deep, rather rapid breathing, and
smell her hair, and felt his own vice-like grip relaxing very slightly,
then abruptly he released her and shoved her away from him so roughly
that she fell.
"Get out," he said hoarsely. "Now,
before I change my mind."
She stared up at him from the floor. Some
of her hair had been pulled loose from its band and was hanging in her
face, and Kevin had to suppress a sudden urge to brush it back into
place.
"Is this some kind of subtle ploy?" she
said.
"What's so subtle about my telling you to
fuck off?" Kevin said acidly.
"It's a trick." The stranger got to her
feet and fixed him with a challenging stare. "You just want me to go
outside so your friends can pick me up and take me for interrogation."
The acolyte groaned. He had the measure
of her now; a true Resistance fanatic, one who was constantly looking
for ploys and tricks on the part of the Tetra Grammaton. Not
particularly dangerous, unless she had bombs strapped on under those
tight-fitting clothes (not much chance of that, his inner voice
whispered) but very, very irritating.
"No, it's not some kind of subtle ploy. I
have neither the time nor the resources to take you in right now. Hang
around until my backup gets here, if that's what you want, or get out."
Judging from her shocked look, he might
as well have asked her to strip naked.
"In this weather? Are you mad?" She
paused. "I mean, really? Are you insane? Because given your behaviour
so far, one would have to think so."
Kevin glanced away, looking out at the
weather in question. It seemed to be lessening slightly. Maybe it was
safe to risk going outside again.
"Just...forget it. Okay? Like I said, I
don't have the manpower to take you in right now. I'm on my way back to
Libria. I'll pretend I never saw you."
She cocked her head on one side.
"Wouldn't that upset your backup,
acolyte?"
Kevin ground his teeth in frustration. He
hadn't seen that one coming.
Great. Come face to face with DuPont and lie. Come face
to face with Andersen and lie. Come face to face with Preston and
Partridge and lie. Come face to face with an adolescent female and tie
your tongue in knots.
"I'll worry about that," he said tightly.
"You just get back to whatever sewer you crawled out from, rebel,
before they find you here."
He swung around and strode out the door,
limping slightly her attack had triggered a fresh wave of agony in
his shoulder and not looking back.
You didn't just do that, did you? You didn't just give
up what may be the only shelter for miles to an annoying brat of a
female, and let a rebel go unharmed? You're getting soft.
Kevin didn't bother dignifying that with
a response. Softness had nothing to do with it; he just had better
things to do. And besides, the problem with arresting someone like that
girl was that in his current situation and without any handcuffs, he'd
have either had to cripple and carry her or relied on her own blind
obedience to his authority...and there was a problem with that, when
you tried to apply it to a rebel.
He shook his head. Whatever the reason,
it was done now, and all he had to worry about was getting back to
Libria. He was getting close. The city had been visible for some time
now; if he hurried, he could make it back before the end of the morning.
Some hours later, Kevin slid into the
Monastery like a ghost. He was near-exhausted; it was ten past midnight
and he'd been going nonstop ever since leaving that building. DuPont
and Andersen could wait; right now, all he wanted to do was crash out
and sleep for a good few hours, or possibly days.
He somehow managed to drag himself to his
room. The journey seemed a lot longer than it ever had before, and he
was looking forward to being back in his own bed as he opened the door
silently.
The sound of slow, regular breathing
coming from inside threw a galactic sized spanner into Kevin's grand
sleeping plans and he backed off, closing the door softly; it wasn't
worth waking whoever was in there.
Fucking great. First DuPont murders Barrett, then he
sends me into the Nethers with Andersen, then he orders him to kill me,
and now to cap it all off he's rented out my room!
Behind him, a voice said, "What are you
doing here?"
Kevin half-turned he didn't have the
energy for anything more agile and came face to face with acolyte
Simmerson, who looked almost as tired as Kevin felt.
Must've pulled the night watch, he
thought wryly. He had no idea what the rota was anymore he'd been
away too long but his year did seem to be doing that more than most.
"I'm trying to get into my room," he
said, his tone as neutral as he could manage under the circumstances.
Simmerson was just another faceless yearmate on Prozium as far as Kevin
was concerned, and he didn't bother with the other acolyte beyond
trying to avoid arousing his suspicions.
Okay. Plan A's been thwarted. Time to
move on to Plan B; go pay Andersen and DuPont a little visit.
"Halls?" Simmerson's voice jerked
Kevin back to reality with a painful bump. The other acolyte was
staring at him openly with the closest anyone on Prozium could come to
astonishment. "You...But Andersen said"
"Andersen lied," Kevin cut across
brusquely. "He's a sense offender and he shot me when we were in the
Nethers, then left me for dead. Incidentally, where is the little
slimeball? I want to drop in and say hello to him."
Simmerson eyed his yearmate warily. He
may have been on Prozium, but he wasn't stupid, and he had a nagging
suspicion that Halls' 'hello' was likely to become a rather terminal
'goodbye' if he ever did catch up with Andersen.
Then he considered explaining this to
Halls and heard himself say, "I don't know where he is now, but I heard
DuPont arguing with him about some kind of delivery. He told him to
bring it to him in his office tonight, or he'd make sure he regretted
it."
There was a short pause while Kevin
replayed this last sentence in his mind and tried to make sense of the
pronouns.
"To DuPont's office?" he said, more for
something to say than anything; he didn't think even Andersen was
arrogant or stupid enough to make a demand like that of the
Vice-Council.
"Yeah. I don't know what it was, though."
Kevin dismissed this with a flick of his
finger. It was probably something highly illegal, else why all the
secrecy?
Perfect.
Slowly, as though thinking aloud, Kevin
said, "Give me your shoes."
Simmerson gawked at him.
"What?"
"You heard me. You'll get them back; I
just need to borrow them for a while."
"What's wrong with your shoes, Halls?"
"I'm wearing them, that's what. Give them
to me now, and that's an order."
Still looking dubious, Simmerson
obediently pulled off both shoes and handed them to Kevin, who pulled
off his coat and wrapped it around them, creating a crude package.
"Thanks. Like I said, you'll get them
back soon."
"You're going to try and get in to see
DuPont, aren't you?" Simmerson said, eyeing him narrowly.
"Yeah. I suspect he may be a sense
offender and I want to use this to find out for sure. The Resistance
must not be allowed to compromise the Council."
Simmerson nodded, all suspicion gone.
Thank god for blind faith and stupidity,
Kevin thought somewhat savagely as he strode away. Tell a Librian
on Prozium that you're acting against the Resistance and you can
literally get away with murder.
He shook his head, grinning slightly now
as he wondered what Simmerson was going to say to whoever was in charge
of stores. Well, you see sir, I don't have my shoes because they're
being used in an undercover operation involving Halls, Andersen, DuPont
and a very strange package...The thought of it was enough to almost
make him laugh out loud, an urge that was rapidly squashed as he
approached the sweepers outside Equilibrium, not even blinking as they
brought their weapons around to bear on him.
"This area is off-limits to all those without a designated pass."
The acolyte flashed his ID at them, too
fast for either man to be able to read the name.
"I have an appointment with Vice-Council
DuPont."
"Name?"
Kevin almost smirked, caught it just in
time.
"Simon Andersen. I brought a package for
the Vice-Council. He's expecting me."
"Any deliveries are to be sent through
the preset channels."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Funny, huh?
Guess the Vice-Council didn't want this one going astray." Kevin fixed
the man with a hard stare, or at least, the closest you can come to
such a thing when the starer is wearing dark glasses and the staree a
darkened motorcycle visor. "Now, either you let me in right now..." he
checked the man's badge of rank "...corporal, or I'll..." His voice
tailed off.
You're not going to get anywhere like that, Kev. You're
supposed to be Andersen, remember? So how would he deal with this?
Behind his shades, the acolyte's eyes
glittered. He was going to enjoy this.
"Corporal? You're a..." Kevin made a
guttural sound of disgust. "I'm discussing my rights as a Grammaton
acolyte with a fucking corporal? That's it. I'm through with
this shit, and I'm giving you a direct order. Get the fuck out of my
way before I take my sidearm and use it to blow another hole next to
the one that currently holds your brains!"
"Excuse me?" Kevin wasn't sure if the
man's tone was due to the insult or his lack of comprehension, but
found he didn't much care either.
"Look. Call DuPont if you don't believe
me. Ask him if he's expecting Andersen with his...er...goods." Kevin
quirked an eyebrow at the sweepers, leaving their imaginations to fill
in the blanks.
One of the sweepers, this one wearing a
sergeant's stripes, slid the visor on his helmet back and did just
that, while Kevin tried not to squirm nervously. If Simmerson had got
it wrong...
Well, he supposed that he'd have to rely
on DuPont's sense of loyalty to get him inside.
Right. In other words, you're royally screwed.
"Sir, there's an acolyte here by the name
of Andersen requesting an audience with you. He claims to have a
package for delivery, and he'll only give it to you personally, sir."
Kevin didn't hear what DuPont said in
response, but he was prepared to bet everything, including his life,
that it wasn't as polite as the sweeper had been.
"Sir, yes sir." The sweeper handed the
radio unit over to Kevin. "The Vice-Council wants to talk to you."
Kevin hesitated this was something he
really hadn't banked on then gave a mental shrug and took the unit,
clearing his throat and dropping into his best impersonation of
Andersen's voice.
"Sir?"
"You really are a fucking idiot, aren't
you, Andersen?" There was no deliberate impassivity in DuPont's voice;
the Vice-Council was clearly angry as hell and didn't care who knew.
Kevin's brain absorbed this fact,
processed it in a matter of nanoseconds, then tapped him on the
shoulder and presented him with its findings.
He's in his office, which means he's
with his secretary, which also means that guy has to be off the
dose as well. He also must have got rid of the armed guards; even
DuPont would never dare be so blatant in front of them. This is the
best chance you're gonna have to bargain with him. So don't break cover
just yet; wait until you're inside and face to face with him.
"I don't follow, sir," Kevin said, still
in Andersen's voice. Part of him had been looking forward to revealing
his identity over the radio, but the other way did seem to make more
sense.
Besides, that way he could get to see the
man's expression.
"I gave you strict instructions to bring
the items to me via the back way, to avoid bothering the
sweepers with such a trivial matter!"
Items? Why doesn't he just come clean;
he knows nobody can hear him except whoever's in the room with him,
Kevin wondered. Unless...ah. Yes, of course. Someone else might be
listening.
He permitted himself a sense of
satisfaction, too slight for the sweepers to pick up on. Even if he
never got inside, it had already been a very productive five minutes;
not only had he found out about the 'back way' into Equilibrium but
DuPont had also kindly informed him that the sweepers' channels of
communication were observed constantly.
So you might want to watch your mouth around them, Kev.
No telling which of your quips they might pick up on, and no telling
who's listening either.
"I couldn't find the back way, sir,"
Kevin said, as sulkily as he dared.
He heard the Vice-Council expel breath in
an exasperated sigh.
"Remind me again why I waste my time on
you, Andersen! This is the third time in as many weeks you've forgotten
about it."
"If you tell me again, sir, I promise
that I won't forget it this time," Kevin said honestly.
He winced and yanked the unit away from
his skull as DuPont's voice reached a pitch usually reserved for
breaking glass.
"Tell you again? On this frequency?
How stupid do you think I am?"
You really wanna know? Kevin
thought wryly, then bit down on that hard.
"Do you want the fucking package or not?"
he said sullenly. "If you don't, I'm sure someone else will be
interested."
"No, don't do that." It really was
amazing, Kevin mused, how quickly the man could swing from yelling to
his normal modulated tones. "Just...bring it up to me, Andersen."
"Yes sir. On my way now, sir." Kevin cut
the transmission and handed the unit back to the sweeper, then shoved
roughly past them and into the building.
Equilibrium's entrance hall, with its
high-reaching cream pillars and black floor, was impressive at the best
of times, but Kevin barely noticed it. He was too busy looking forward
to his meeting with DuPont, and at the back of his mind, he knew one of
the sweepers outside was watching him suspiciously. The Vice-Council
had cleared him, but Kevin hadn't behaved like a typical acolyte.
Well, he'd behaved like Andersen would
have, even taking in the Vice-Council. Any repercussions would most
likely fall on their heads, not his.
Kevin paused at the receptionist.
"I'm here to see Vice-Council DuPont.
Where's his office?"
The woman eyed him suspiciously, and
Kevin was suddenly reminded of the sense offender he'd let go in the
Nethers. She'd had the same kind of brownish-red hair...
Angrily, he told himself to get a grip,
then swore inwardly and blanked his mind. Equilibrium personnel were
trained in the intuitive arts, not to the same extent as the Clerics,
but enough to cause problems for him if he got carried away.
"Up those stairs and third on the right,
sir," the receptionist said finally.
"No, I don't think you quite understand,"
Kevin said pleasantly. He leaned forward, knuckles resting on the desk.
"I meant his real office."
The woman shrugged.
"Down there, take a left, up the stairs
to the fourth floor and it's the sixth on your left."
"Now, that's better." Kevin quirked an
eyebrow at her. "See how the world turns when we all help each other?"
He wasn't surprised at her trying to
misdirect him. He'd made that mistake once before, when he'd been about
seven. The receptionist's first set of directions had led him straight
to a room filled with heavily-armed sweepers and it had taken a lot of
fast thinking and smooth talking two skills he'd already been
proficient in, even at that age to get away with his life. He didn't
know where the latest set of fake directions would have led him, but he
hadn't been particularly interested in finding out either.
Damn stairs, he thought irritably,
scowling at the Out of Order sign that was currently attached to the
building's one elevator and had, as far as he knew, been attached for
almost ten years. Yet another classic example of Librian apathy.
It took him a little longer to reach the
Vice-Council's office than he'd anticipated; his injuries were waking
up again and he made a mental note to dose himself up on Talrium as
soon as he got back. He'd swiped another bottle not long before going
into the Nethers with Andersen, along with a few dozen syringes. He
didn't know if the stuff had a shelf life, but it was still unopened,
so he was probably safe.
The sweepers on guard stepped aside as he
approached; DuPont had obviously informed them he was coming. Better
and better.
Kevin knocked on the door, then opened it
and stepped in.
"Give it to me," DuPont said, not looking
up from his desk, "and then get out before I have you arrested."
Kevin glanced around, making sure they
were alone, then let the smirk spread across his face.
"Yeah, I'll give it to you, asshole.
Where do you want it?"
DuPont whipped around, staring openly.
"You? No. You're dead," he said hoarsely.
Kevin quirked an eyebrow.
"Is that a fact?" When DuPont didn't
answer immediately, he added, "Or simply a threat?"
The silence that followed stretched out,
interminably long and awkward.
"Halls?" After his initial shock,
DuPont's voice was already back to being as neutral as ever, but Kevin
was sure he detected the faintest note of strain there.
"Where's Andersen?" he said evenly.
"What?"
"Andersen. Where is he?"
The Vice-Council raised his jaw slightly,
going up a grudging notch in Kevin's estimation. Not many people could
be so calm after coming face to face with someone they believed dead.
"Strange. I was informed by the sentries
that he was on his way up here."
"Before or after I showed up?"
"Before, of course." DuPont nodded
towards the packet Kevin was still holding. "What's really in there,
acolyte? Blocks of wood?"
Kevin did an exaggerated double-take.
"DuPont! I'm hurt! Do you really believe
I would double-cross you?"
"You double-cross everyone else."
There was a taut silence.
"Okay, that's one for you," Kevin
conceded at the end of it. "But...well, I didn't know what Andersen was
supposed to be bringing up." He crossed the room, seemingly wandering
at random, then reached down to caress the black desk in an almost
possessive manner before glancing up at the Vice-Council with a start,
as though only just remembering his presence. "I'm sorry, where were
we? Oh right; the package." He threw it overarm at the older man, who
caught it automatically and staggered under the unexpected weight.
"Go ahead," Kevin drawled. "Open it."
DuPont eyed it like he would a snake.
"Why? What's it going to do; explode?"
"I bloody hope not, DuPont," Kevin said
flatly, "since I'm still in the room and you happen to be between me
and the exit."
The Vice-Council shifted the stare onto
Kevin, who didn't so much as blink.
"You were found trying to shoot yourself
in the head on at least one occasion, acolyte, and evidence leads me to
believe there may have been more. How do I know this isn't some kind of
elaborate trick designed not only to end your life but to take me along
with you?"
Kevin shrugged.
"Because I hadn't thought about it doing
it that way." He considered. "Though it's a good idea, DuPont. Thanks.
And you still haven't answered my first question; where's Andersen?"
"Why ask me?"
Kevin closed his eyes and dropped into a
flawless imitation of DuPont's voice.
"Vice-Council, you have murdered one of
the closest friends I ever had, chased another, potentially very good
friend away and forced me into the Nethers twice, ordering your little
pet aka acolyte Simon Andersen to murder me on the second
excursion. I have had a very, very bad few months and I will
say this to you once and once only, do not push it."
He opened his eyes again and smiled
mockingly at the man.
"Now, you have approximately two point
five seconds to tell me exactly where I can find Andersen
before I scream the place down telling everyone you're a murderer, a
hypocrite and a fucking sense offender."
DuPont set the still unopened package
down on a chair gingerly, as though still half afraid it would explode,
took one look at the acolyte's expression and decided to fold.
"I did not order Andersen to shoot you in
the chest, Halls."
"No, I don't imagine you did. You're not
very good at specifics, are you, DuPont? You probably just told him to
shoot me and left the finer details up to him." Kevin considered. "Or
else you told him to shoot me in the face and he missed, although I
find it hard to believe that even Andersen could miss at three metres."
The Vice-Council stiffened.
"I would advise you to tread softly,
acolyte. Since you are already listed as killed in action, why
shouldn't I just shoot you right now?"
Kevin laughed, relishing DuPont's
momentary look of discomfiture.
"What, d'you really think I didn't
consider that possibility before coming?" When the Vice-Council didn't
answer, he shook his head, still grinning, and went on. "I tapped into
Equilibrium's mainframe and placed a little...surprise. If I don't
remove it in ten minutes, evidence of your sense offending will go to
every single Grammaton agent, acolytes and sweepers included."
DuPont took a deep breath.
"And no doubt you now expect me to bow to
any unreasonable demands you might have, because you think I can't
order it removed any time I choose."
"You don't even know what you're looking
for, DuPont, or where to look. You could find it eventually, I've no
doubt, but you couldn't find it in time to remove it before it went
around the whole of the Tetra Grammaton. And if you think I'm going to
tell you where it is, you're fucking crazy."
"You'd tell the technicians, Halls."
There was a definite challenge in the Vice-Council's voice, one which
Kevin rose to without hesitating.
"In ten minutes? I doubt it. I'm not as
pathetic as all that."
There was a long silence.
"You're bluffing," DuPont said
eventually.
Kevin raised his eyebrows.
"Only one way to find out, isn't there?"
He shook his head. "I told you I was through playing around, DuPont. If
you chose not to believe me, that's your prerogative, and it's also
your problem." Kevin reached out, took hold of DuPont's shoulders and
shoved the Vice-Council forcibly into a chair. "Now. Here's what I
suggest. You stop trying to break me; it's blatantly obvious that's
what you're doing and you're not even very good at it. In return, I
will keep my mouth shut about you, although if Andersen continues to
piss me off, I can't make the same promise regarding him. In other
words, you act like I'm just a normal, dosing acolyte, and I'll pretend
that you're on the dose as well. You won't bug me about supporting you,
helping you out or even backing you up in any way, shape or
form, and I'll do the same for you. If I get caught and undergo CI, I
can't promise that I won't crack and blurt out your name, but I won't
rat you out deliberately or expect you to step in. Basically, if you
betray me and I go down, you go down with me. The choice is yours. Oh,
and one more thing. I know I missed the year's exams, but since that
was due to your incompetence rather than mine, I don't expect to have
to repeat this year because frankly, the thought of Andersen graduating
before I do makes me...upset. Is this clear?"
There was a long, long silence before
DuPont nodded. He'd played the game often enough to know when he was
beaten, and he realised fully and for the first time just how much he'd
underestimated Halls as an opponent.
"Alright, acolyte. I'll sign you off as
having passed the exams, and from now on, we'll play it your way. I'll
keep quiet if you do. Shake?"
Kevin snorted.
"Thanks, but no. I have this little thing
about shaking hands with anyone who keeps a loaded gun up both
sleeves." He turned to go, paused, turned back. "One final thing,
Vice-Council"
"Only one?" DuPont said, somewhat sourly.
"I missed a lot of classwork while I
was...indisposed, especially Gun-Kata. I want extra tuition until I've
caught up. Not from you though; I don't trust you not to switch the
ammo again. Give me Vice-Council Nugent or Hagon or someone else."
DuPont watched him in silence for a few
moments before saying, "Is that the last of your demands, Halls?"
"I dunno. Let me think about it for a
minute." Kevin pretended to consider for all of three seconds.
"Um...yeah. Yeah, that's about it."
"Then allow me to add another condition
to our, ah, agreement. You will not, at any time, attempt to
hold this over me or to increase your demands. In other words, this is
final and not subject to further argument or appeal."
Kevin met his cold stare squarely.
"On that score, if I'm out of class again
for any reason, you will of course organise the sessions I'll need to
catch up."
"If you're out for any reason involving
myself or Andersen, acolyte, and that's all."
"Agreed. And your condition about not
changing this at any time goes both ways, of course. Oh, and I've just
remembered; I want my room back. Get rid of that freshmeat, DuPont. I
don't care where he sleeps, but it's not going to be with me. Sharing
with Jacobs was bad enough; at least he didn't snore."
DuPont took one or two breaths in an
effort to calm himself down. It didn't seem to help. At the beginning
of Kevin's demands, he'd tried counting as a means to control his
temper. So far he'd reached one hundred and thirty and was just as
pissed off as when he'd started.
"You forget yourself, acolyte."
"You have more to lose than me,
Vice-Council. You don't want to die, and I don't give a shit. It stands
to reason you should be inconvenienced more than me." Kevin's tone was
openly insolent; he'd long since lost any fear he had of the Council.
DuPont took another, deeper breath.
"How did you get back?"
Kevin shrugged. He'd already decided that
he wasn't going to tell DuPont. Not because he felt any sense of
perverse loyalty towards the Resistance especially not Cross but
because he knew it would bug the shit out of the man.
"I borrowed some sweeper body armour.
Andersen's bullet didn't even penetrate."
It was a lie and they both knew it;
bullets from a Grammaton sidearm could go through the sweepers' armour
like it was plastic. For a long moment, both of them stared at each
other, before DuPont finally shook his head.
"I still say you would have made one hell
of a team player," the acolyte heard him murmur under his breath. He
smiled pleasantly at him.
"And I still say you're a lying
piece of Nethers shit, DuPont. Goodnight." Without waiting for a
response, he came smartly to attention, then spun on his heel and
strode out.
Silcox, who had been watching the entire
conversation and doing his best not to laugh, hastily busied himself
with his typing again, traces of a grin still threatening to erupt from
time to time. It wasn't often he got to see the Vice-Council so
thoroughly discomfited.
DuPont clenched both fists, literally
shaking with anger. His voice, in direct contrast to this, was so quiet
Silcox had difficulty hearing it.
"Send a notice to everyone in the Tetra
Grammaton. I want that acolyte's head!" Previous experience of a
Cleric's sometimes dangerously literal mind when it came to metaphors
prompted the Vice-Council to add, "Separated from his body."
The older man shrugged and started
typing. It was almost a shame Halls had survived this long, only to
be betrayed by his own people but he hadn't stayed where he was all
this time by questioning orders.
A loud knock on Kevin's newly-reclaimed
door woke him from a long and for once dreamless sleep, and he
swore violently under his breath before grabbing his dark glasses,
dragging himself to his feet and limping over, opening it to come face
to face with four civilians. He blinked.
"Who the hell are you lot?"
None of them answered at first, and Kevin
was about to shut the door again in an effort to go back to sleep when
one of them, clearly the leader, spoke.
"Myself and my colleagues are...we were
the sweepers you saw a couple of days ago. Outside DuPont's office." He
paused, looking at Kevin with an expression that might almost have been
called hopeful in another man, clearly hoping the acolyte was going to
pick up the thread of the conversation.
"Oh yeah, right. I didn't recognise you
outside of your Star Wars getup," Kevin said, then immediately
cursed his too-glib tongue. "What do you want?" he added, in an effort
to cover up the slip.
"The Vice-Council sent us to you."
"Right." Kevin did his best not to yawn.
"So what?" A thought occurred to him and he frowned slightly. "Which
Vice-Council might we be talking about here?"
"DuPont. He said that Andersen would be
the best choice to accompany a mission like this, and he told us where
to find you."
Kevin blinked, thrown, opened his mouth
to refute this and then closed it again.
Andersen. Right. So, are you gonna come clean now or
never, Kev?
The acolyte shook his head very slightly.
There was no question of that. Impersonating a Grammaton agent was
punishable by death. Kevin didn't know if that penalty included other
agents as well, but he was in no mood to take chances.
"I can't," he said flatly, indicating his
shoulder. "Medical grounds."
"He said you'd say that. He also said
that if you caused problems, he'd arrange for you to find out exactly
how many injuries can be covered by medical grounds."
Kevin's eyes glittered coldly.
"Did he happen to mention anything about
a deal while he was making these melodramatic threats?"
"Yes, he said if you agreed to this, he'd
see to it personally that you never have to leave Libria again until
you graduate."
Kevin considered. The idea did have a
certain appeal...
"What's your connection in all this?" he
said aloud.
None of them looked him in the eyes as
the leader replied, "We...we've been designated to infiltrate the
Resistance. We need an escort into the Nethers."
"Bullshit," Kevin answered succinctly.
"They wouldn't send sweepers on a mission like this; even DuPont's not
that arrogant."
"The orders came from Father himself."
Kevin blinked; this was one card he
hadn't expected the man to play.
Not only that but there's no way you can counter it, is
there, Kev? Not unless you want to be arrested for treason...which
would be one hell of a waste, really, considering the efforts you made
to survive the Underground's attentions.
The acolyte nodded.
"Agreed, then. Did Father also
say when we're to leave?" Kevin bit his tongue hurriedly, hoping the
sweepers hadn't picked up on that little extra sarcasm.
If they had, they gave no outward sign.
"Tomorrow morning," the first one said.
"Fine. Get ready. I have other matters to
attend to here." He shut the door in the men's faces, mind whirling
frantically.
Father my ass. There's only one Father here, and I'd lay
odds his name's Vice-Council DuPont. I wasn't sure before, but I think
I am now, given what's just happened.
And if DuPont fucks with me on any aspect of this, screw
the deal; I'll implicate him in every sense offence and crime I can
think of.
He glanced at the alarm clock next to his
bed. Two twenty pm. DuPont had obviously thought better of waking him
for class. So much the better.
He changed into his training kit, then
made his way slowly and deliberately to the gym. Break wasn't due until
three pm; there was no need to hurry.
Half an hour later, Kevin stood outside
the doors to the gym and waited patiently. He knew that most acolytes
tended to go for a drink of water on their breaks, just as he also
knew that Andersen had had a tendency to scorn what he viewed as such a
display of physical weakness ever since he could remember.
Actually, Andersen had also had a
tendency to pass out occasionally during training, especially during
the summer months. That thought made him grin broadly as he waited.
Price of vanity and all that crap.
The sounds inside came to an abrupt halt
and Kevin glanced at his watch.
Two fifty five. Must be slow.
He ducked hastily out of sight he
didn't want anyone recognising him just yet, not until he'd had a
chance to meet Andersen again and waited until the footsteps had died
away before emerging from hiding and entering the gym.
As expected, Andersen was the only
acolyte present. The added absence of DuPont caused Kevin a moment's
concern he'd never known a Vice-Council to leave during the break
but he shrugged it off and crossed the floor to stand noiselessly
behind Andersen, who was examining the rows of katanas.
"Ready to lose the rest of your fingers?"
Kevin said pleasantly.
Andersen yelped, leapt almost a full foot
in the air and spun around to stare at him.
"Fuck me!"
"That really is all you think
about, isn't it?" Kevin said, smirking.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Kevin blinked, feigning surprise, then
checked his chronometer.
"It's three pm. All afternoons from two
until eight bar Sundays are given over to Gun-Kata, you know that. It's
been the curriculum and timetable for some three hundred years, after
all."
"I shot you, Halls."
"Yeah. At near point-blank range, too."
Kevin shook his head. "Jeez, Andersen, anyone ever tell you you're a
crappy shot? Even a six year old could have plugged my face from that
distance."
Andersen whirled, almost too fast for
Kevin to follow.
"So I guess I have you to thank for my
making the top of DuPont's shit list?"
Kevin snorted.
"Not every screw-up in your life is my
fault, Andersen. Most, I'll admit, but not all. You were on the
top of DuPont's shit list, as you call it, right from day one. I had a
very interesting conversation with him, as it happened." Kevin favoured
the other acolyte with a dazzling smile. "He really doesn't think much
of you, does he?"
"He was trying to split us up!"
Kevin winced.
"Oh man, that statement is misleading on
so many disturbing levels that I don't want to think about it!" He
paused. "And he didn't tell me. He told you. Or at least, he told me
being you."
"What?" Andersen said tightly. Kevin
didn't blame him; that last statement hadn't been one of his most
coherent.
"I had to think of something to get
inside. And...well, I don't know what made me do it, but I suspect it
was the pressure I was under at the time...but I pretended to be you."
He examined his fingernails. "Did a damn good job of it too, as it
turned out."
"DuPont just thinks one of us is going to
assassinate him," Andersen snapped. "He only said that shit because if
he can keep us fighting between ourselves, we're not gonna turn on him."
Kevin raised his eyebrows.
"Dear, dear...is that the distinct tone
of self-doubt I hear in those dulcet tones?"
Andersen's eyes narrowed into slits.
"You should've died out in the Nethers,"
he hissed.
"Yes, I think we established that when
you shot me," Kevin said pleasantly. "And on that subject, Andersen,
you might want to brush up on your Gun-Kata. No telling what's going to
happen in the next exams."
The door into the gym clicked open, and
Andersen lunged, grabbing Kevin by the throat and leaning in to whisper
harshly.
"I don't know how you managed any of
this, Halls. But you're a fucking corpse. I swear I'll get even with
you if it's the last thing I ever do."
Kevin's smile became a grin.
"Rest assured, Andersen; it will be."
He broke the other acolyte's grip and
turned away, his mind already occupied with the more immediate problem
of his imminent return to the Nethers.
Are you out of your fucking mind?
That was the question that had been going
round and round in Kevin's mind for the past three hours since they'd
left Libria, and he didn't think it would do him much good to be able
to answer it.
Let's just examine the facts, shall we? You have been on
three trips to the Nethers and almost died on two of them and let's be
honest; that Jurgen asshole would have probably murdered you in a
heartbeat if he'd thought he could get away with it! Do the math, Kev;
if you still want to commit suicide then you've chosen a damn
complicated way of going about it, but why help these guys? What have
they ever done for you?
Kevin ignored the little voice. He had
bigger fish to fry at the moment; namely, how the hell was he supposed
to get two ex-sweepers to the Underground when a) he had never been
there in his life, at least, not so he could recognise the way in and
b) he was most likely going to wind up shooting anyone who came looking
for them.
This is it, huh? You've finally gone completely and
utterly round the twist. Only yesterday you were fighting tooth and
nail to get as far away from the Resistance as possible, and now you're
waltzing merrily back in? Why don't you just ask Andersen to give you a
friendly pat on the head with a chainsaw; it'd amount to pretty much
the same thing and at least you wouldn't be the one running the risks
of arrest.
Kevin paused to consider. DuPont had
organized this whole thing, although the acolyte didn't see why he
should have gone to all that trouble. No Vice-Council had ties with the
Resistance; Kevin doubted that even Barrett had been a full-fledged
member, and if the old man hadn't been then there was no way in hell
DuPont was.
So the spy story's most likely accurate. This group's a
little too well-rehearsed though, and I doubt the Vice-Council would
slip up on something as major as that. So...what?
Kevin didn't really know. All he knew for
sure was that trying to work things out was giving him a splitting
headache. Oh well...time to put his cards on the table. He gestured at
the nearest man, trying to remember his name, or failing that at least
his rank.
"You..." was all he could manage, even
after a lot of brain-racking. He'd never fully appreciated until then
how much a sweeper's insignia of rank helped tell one black-clad figure
from the next.
The man in question dropped back to him.
Ahead, the others turned to watch, unaccountably wary all of a sudden.
"Sir?"
"You're off the dose." Simply, no
accusations. "All of you."
The acolyte sensed the fear skyrocketing,
and snapped both guns out automatically. He genuinely wasn't planning
to murder these people, but frightened men can react in strange ways,
and he damn well wasn't planning to get murdered himself either.
Keeping his voice low and as non-threatening as possible, Kevin went on.
"So does someone want to tell me what
this is really all about?"
The men exchanged looks.
"DuPont suggested we come off the dose,"
one of them said at last. The others leapt on the explanation.
"Yeah!"
"DuPont! Right!"
"Yeah, right." Kevin shook his head. "You
wanna throw the Easter bunny in with that as well?"
Blank stares. The acolyte rolled his eyes.
"Never mind. Look, DuPont would no more
have told you to come off the dose than he would tell you to pole-dance
naked in the barracks. If you're off the dose, I really don't give a
shit, but I want to know the truth now, before we get to the
Underground."
There was another round of blank stares.
This wasn't how Grammaton acolytes were supposed to act in the presence
of sense offenders. Every Librian knew that.
Kevin gritted his teeth.
"You wanna do this the easy way? Fine.
I'm off the dose as well, so I'm not going to shoot you all out of
hand. But I know full well you never admitted your crime to DuPont,
because you're all still upright and flame-free, so that begs the
question of why the hell he'd send you for this and, more importantly,
why he picked me of all people to accompany you." He considered.
"Unless he was banking on my following you to the Underground and
destroying it for him. But even I'm not arrogant enough to believe I
can take down the Resistance single-handedly. Maybe he's thinking I'll
report back and order it destroyed from Libria." The acolyte thought
for a few minutes, then shrugged. "Oh well, I guess I'll find out
sooner or later. Which way now?"
The group exchanged looks. The fear was
still there, only now it had been joined by a sense of deep confusion.
"We don't know," one of them said.
"Really. Huh. Well, that leaves us with a
problem, doesn't it, since you've been leading the way almost since we
left Libria. You mean you've no idea where we've been going either?"
Kevin smirked. "Just as well you have someone trained in the intuitive
arts, isn't it?"
He strode over to a seemingly innocent
brick wall, and stood looking at it for a few minutes.
"Someone give me a hand here," he said at
last.
"That's impossible," another man said.
"The intuitive arts aren't enough to find the Underground, else we'd
have been discovered years ago."
Kevin shrugged.
"Please yourself." The man was right, of
course; the intuitive arts wouldn't do the job. But they worked very
well for picking up on hidden watchers, and those had been getting more
frequent as the group had gone on. Kevin was sure that the Resistance
already knew they were there and how many of them there were...and
rebels had a certain arrogance of their own. One acolyte and a bunch of
civilians probably wouldn't be viewed as much of a threat.
Reaching back, he grabbed one of the men
by the shirt and twisted around, slamming him into the wall, which
collapsed, revealing a small room with a ladder set into the floor
beyond it. Wincing at the pain in his chest, Kevin stepped forward,
shaking his head. Typical rebel thinking. Like they thought a new wall
in near-perfect repair in the Nethers wouldn't be noticed.
He grabbed hold of the ladder in both
hands and slid down it to the room below, then almost staggered as the
sounds and smells both overwhelmed him. In the distance, Kevin was sure
he could hear a baby crying, not to mention the three or four different
types of music all playing at once. In front of him, a few people were
coming and going, taking no notice of the new arrivals, each chattering
to his or her companions. The stench of unwashed bodies was enough to
make the acolyte's eyes water.
Kevin glanced around, curious in spite of
himself. This was the first time he'd been in the Underground and had a
chance to really see it properly, and he had to admit that it wasn't
what he'd expected. There was almost no visible evidence of EC-10, bar
a rather dirty poster on the wall and a few photos taped to the lockers
that lined one side of the wall. Several beds had been pushed against
the other, a few of which were occupied by offenders who were somehow
managing to sleep despite the cacophony.
Someone jostled him and he whirled, hands
already seeking his pistols for a defensive maneuver, then he caught
sight of one of the people he'd come with and forced himself to
relax...or at least, suppressed the rising urge to decimate this place.
This is something of a record for you, isn't it? Not
only did you walk into the Underground of your own free will this time,
you're still upright and relatively intact. Nice work. Now, how about
getting out of here before either of those two things change?
"Fine," Kevin said aloud. He turned to
the group. "Well, have fun with your sense offending buddies, won't
you? Love to hang around, but I have other things to do." Like
getting out of here before I have another panic attack.
"Wait!" One of them, the one that Kevin
had already marked down as being almost terminally thick, grabbed his
arm. "Stay with us. Just for a while."
Behind his dark glasses, Kevin's eyes
narrowed with an indescribable hatred. Barrett had been wrong in his
initial assessment of the depth to which the acolyte felt that
particular emotion. This was no flash of anger but the real thing; as
relentless as slow-moving lava, and about as stoppable.
"I'd rather die," he all but spat at the
man, wrenching away.
"Our leader will want to know about you."
"Then tell him yourself, rebel. I'm outta
here." Kevin whirled, only to find the exit blocked by four heavy-set
people armed with AK-47s.
He groaned inwardly. How could he have
been so stupid? He'd wandered right into the same trap he'd been caught
in twice before.
You know, Kev, you really ought to start paying more
attention to those nagging little doubts.
Well, things were a little different now.
He had his guns, for one thing.
Kevin flexed his hands sharply, felt the
welcome weight of his sidearms drop into them. Before the startled
rebels had time to react, one of them had been dropped by a bullet to
the knee and another by one in the throat.
Kevin changed fluidly from one stance to the next, a waiting position.
"Stand aside," he ordered.
That was when the doors around him
crashed open and more heavily armed Resistance fighters than he'd ever
seen in his lifetime spilled out, drawn by his shots like moths to a
flame.
