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Equilibrium Fan Fiction
by Judas Austin
Immune
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(This story
will be completed in a series of installments)
"Halls.
Halls!"
Kevin
jerked awake and saw Jacobs, one of the two others in Kevin's year who
lived in the Monastery, bending over him...and the searing light bulb
behind the other acolyte's head. He slammed an arm across his face,
shielding his eyes from the blinding invasion.
"What?"
he said groggily.
"Turner's
been arrested."
Already? Kevin thought wryly. That was fast.
Jacobs
eyed him suspiciously. "I've been saying your name for three minutes
straight."
"Injuries,"
Kevin grunted, struggling to sit upright. "I was exhausted last night
and the medic gave me a shot." Not necessarily in that order, but
Jacobs didn't have to know that. Judging from the silence, he'd already
accepted Kevin's explanation.
The
acolyte got to his feet, a combination of pain and fatigue making him
somewhat unsteady.
"Whassatime?"
he muttered
"Six
am. You're to report to the medical wing immediately before classes.
Vice-Council's orders."
Kevin
grimaced inwardly. Damn that old man! If he was planning to make a
habit of intruding on Kevin's personal life, the acolyte thought
privately that he might have to start dropping hints to various Clerics
about Barrett. One of them would probably believe him.
"When
was Turner arrested?" he asked, already on his feet and feeling inside
his locker for his shades.
"Four
o'clock this morning. Halls, you know those dark glasses aren't
regulation."
Kevin
bit back his initial comment of 'So report me' on the basis that Jacobs
might take him at his word, and settled instead for saying, "Medical
reasons, as you well know."
"You
have contact lenses for that."
"Lenses
which irritate the hell out of my eyes, as you also well know," Kevin
retorted, with no trace of rancour. He and Jacobs had had this
discussion more than once.
"Any
offender could easily smash those."
"Obviously,"
Kevin said, half into his uniform. "They could also conceivably
puncture both my eyes with their thumbs if I was stupid enough to let
them get that close. Look, you mind your business and leave me to mind
mine, alright? 'Cause I'm going to have to run if I want to make it to
the mediwing and back in time for breakfast."
"Why?
Feeling hungry, are you?"
Now there was a loaded question, Kevin
thought grimly.
"I'm
aware of a certain familiar gnawing sensation in my stomach that
signifies my body's need for sustenance," he said. "If that's what you
mean by hunger, then yes, I'm suffering from it. Alright?"
He
walked past Jacobs' blank expression towards the exit. Well, that was
one hurdle cleared at any rate. He was pretty certain that there was
nothing in his parting words to the other acolyte which could get him
convicted of sense offence. Incurable weirdness, maybe, but being weird
wasn't necessarily a crime in Libria...although now that he thought
about it, Kevin decided sourly that this was probably only a matter of
time.
Pushing open the doors to the mediwing, he was greeted by a
particularly unsettling sight; the medic he'd had words with yesterday
was standing next to Cleric DuPont. There was no sign of DuPont's
partner; either this wasn't important enough to warrant two Clerics or,
more likely, he didn't know what was going on.
Kevin
came awkwardly to attention-his back was starting to wake up again
now-and nodded to DuPont.
"Good
morning, sir."
DuPont
eyed him somewhat coldly.
"Is
it, acolyte?"
Kevin
kept quiet. Even the most zealous Grammaton would be hard pressed to
find anything incriminating in a simple 'good morning'.
"A
bottle of Talrium went missing late last night," the medic said
abruptly. Kevin raised an eyebrow.
"And
your point is...?" he said calmly. Acolytes weren't generally required
to show respect to anyone except other acolytes, Clerics and members of
the Council.
"These
men wish to conduct a search of your quarters, acolyte," DuPont said.
Quarters! Kevin bit back a laugh.
Only the Tetra Grammaton would call a hard mattress, locker and the
occupying floor space 'quarters'.
"Unfortunately,"
DuPont continued (and now the medic looked as though he'd just bitten
into a lemon) "we are forbidden from searching any Grammaton's private
belongings without their express permission. I trust we have it?"
There
was only really one answer to that.
"Yes
sir."
DuPont's
eyes searched Kevin's face for a few minutes.
"And
this doesn't concern you?"
"No
sir," answered Kevin, who had hidden the Talrium inside Turner's
mattress before going to sleep.
Silence.
"Alright,
acolyte," DuPont said finally. "Dismissed."
"Sir."
Kevin turned and strode off. Damn! Not only was he now almost half an
hour late for class, he hadn't got round to doing that essay last night
either. He grimaced. That was all he needed right now. Behind on his
work, late to class and under suspicion of sense offence, theft and
insubordination to boot.
And
it wasn't even ten o'clock yet.
"Acolyte
Halls." Barrett's voice was so even, so neutral, that for one moment
Kevin wondered crazily if he'd been wrong about the Vice-Council.
"You're late."
Kevin
paused, then stepped in and shut the door behind him.
"Yes
sir. I apologise. I was in the medical wing, as per your instructions,
sir."
"What
instructions, acolyte?"
With
a supreme effort of will, Kevin managed to stop his gaze flicking to
Jacobs, but it was a struggle.
"I...was
told to report to the medical wing on the orders of the Vice-Council,
sir."
On
the opposite side of the room, Jacobs stood.
"It's
true, sir. I gave Halls the message from Vice-Council Nugent myself."
Oh crap, Kevin thought sullenly. Just can't keep your fucking mouth shut,
can you, Jacobs?
"I
see," Barrett said calmly. "A clear case of mistaken identity." He
focused on Kevin. "Why didn't you seek clarification before going,
acolyte?"
Kevin
hesitated for a split second.
"I
didn't believe it was necessary, sir."
"Hm."
Barrett narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. "Is it possible, do you
think, that your injuries may be dulling the effects of your Prozium
more than you believed?"
Kevin
met his gaze innocently.
"I'm
not experienced enough to say for sure, sir. Perhaps you could
enlighten us on your most
recent experiences with Prozium? After all, you have been taking it for
a lot longer than we have."
It
wasn't an insult, as such. People on Prozium had no sense of tact or
diplomacy, and as far as any watcher would have been concerned, it was
merely a statement of fact...and one Barrett didn't dare take him up
on. Acolytes may not be able to report Vice-Councils, but if every
single member in a class got suspicious and claimed the same thing,
Barrett knew full well that even the Council would listen then.
"You
have ample experience of your own, acolyte," he said crisply. "Why
don't you tell everyone in this room exactly what you felt when you
injected yourself this morning?"
It
was a trap of sorts, and both of them knew it. Kevin allowed the barest
shadow of surprise followed by doubt and suspicion to flicker across
his face.
"I
didn't feel anything, sir. Isn't that kind of the point?"
The
heads of the other acolytes flicked back to Barrett's face, like
spectators at a tennis match. You didn't need a classroom agenda to
know that this wasn't part of the Librian curriculum.
There
was a long, tense silence.
"Sit
down, acolyte," Barrett said tersely at the end of it. Kevin snapped to
attention, then obeyed, smirking inwardly if not outwardly.
The
rest of that lesson passed in a kind of blur for Kevin. He vaguely
remembered something about a pre-Librian war, but that didn't exactly
narrow it down. If the history texts were even half accurate, it was
amazing that they had enough people left alive at the end of one war to
fight the next.
"Sir?"
he said suddenly.
Barrett
paused mid-flow.
"Yes,
acolyte?"
"I
was wondering if you could tell us...if most of the popular EC-10
material around at the time went into the horrors of war like the
textbook says, and depicted them accurately, why did the pre-Librians
still do it? Go to war, I mean, sir."
Barrett
hesitated almost imperceptibly. If he was honest, he'd often wondered
about that one himself.
"Historians
believe it was because nobody took the EC-10 seriously," he said
shortly. "Now, as I was-what now, Halls?"
"They
must have had history texts of their own though, sir," Kevin said,
"because if they didn't, how would we know that all these wars really
happened? Why didn't they just double check the history texts?"
"Because
it wasn't until a few decades or so before the Last War that history
was a compulsory subject throughout the pre-Librian world. Most who
didn't study it remained ignorant of the harsh realities. Returning to
the lesson, if we study the distribution of population and sense
offenders in the early days of Libria, we can see that-yes, what is it this time, Halls?"
Kevin
lowered his hand.
"How's
that, then, sir? I mean, there must've been a fair few involved in
these wars. If someone fought and survived, they must've told other
people what it was like. If you didn't know someone who was involved,
you probably knew someone who knew someone. So how come you think they
wouldn't have known, sir?"
"Some
people," Barrett said heavily, "most, in fact, took a perverse pleasure in the fighting. They
thought that killing was a source of honour, that it was the right and
proper thing to do."
Kevin
raised his eyebrows.
"Like
us, sir? I mean, we're taught to believe that shooting, torturing and
burning sense offenders to death is the right and proper thing to do,
don't we?"
He
had put his finger, intentionally or not, right on the crux of every
sense offending Grammaton's biggest dilemma.
"I
mean, how is that different?" Kevin persisted. "We still kill and
torture people, only now it's okay because we're all constantly stoned
off our collective asses on Prozium? Is that what you're saying, sir?"
"We
do so to prevent a recurrence of the Last War, as you well know. As I
said, despite the EC-10 to the contrary, pre-Librian society still
appeared to take a veritable pleasure in violence."
"So
what you're saying, sir," Kevin said, loading each word like a gun,
"what you're actually saying
is that EC-10 had no bearing on the war?"
"Yes."
"So
why is it illegal now, sir? Because if it didn't spark off the emotions
that caused the Last War, then why does the Council believe it will
spark off another?"
Barrett
could feel his frustration starting to stir very slightly, and resolved
to end this line of questioning before Halls goaded him into betraying
himself...which, he admitted silently, might well have been the
acolyte's intention.
"Historians
are not fully aware of all the reasons for the pre-Librian indulgence
in every little war going," he said, as sharply as he dared. "In fact,
if the texts are to be believed, most pre-Librians didn't seem to know
either. Why declare war on your neighbour? Because they exist. Because
they have something that you want. Because you want to stop them
getting any ideas about attacking you."
He paused, then sighed. "This is the last time I will permit you to
interrupt me, acolyte."
"Sorry
sir," Kevin said. "But how are we any different from these people, sir?"
"We
have no war, acolyte, and murder is unheard of. All thanks to Prozium,
which our ancestors weren't fortunate enough to possess."
"I
still don't see the difference between us and them, sir."
Barrett,
who had opened his mouth to recommence the lesson, closed it again and
eyed Kevin narrowly.
"Alright,
acolyte. Since you seem determined to constantly interrupt me, you can
interrupt to some good purpose and tell me exactly what
you mean by that comment."
"Yes
sir. Clerics kill sense offenders because they exist. Clerics kill
sense offenders because they don't want their numbers to get so large
they'll mount an assault on the Tetra Grammaton. And Clerics kill sense
offenders because they want the EC-10."
"They
want no such thing," Barrett said crisply.
"They
do, sir. Confiscation for summary destruction is a form of wanting. If
the agents really didn't have
any feelings regarding the EC-10, they wouldn't bother to burn it."
"They
follow orders, acolyte, and speaking of which, I'm giving you an
order; I want to finish teaching this class before lunchtime if that's
all the same to you."
"'Want', sir?" Kevin queried softly.
"Are you sure?"
Barrett
opened his mouth for a sharp rejoinder, but the bell for lunch rang at
that moment, cutting him off, and he closed it again with a sour look
on his face.
"Alright.
Since acolyte Halls managed to distract us from the normal course of
this lesson, I want a two page essay on the circumstances leading to
the Tetran Revolt and the legislations passed as a result of this on my
desk by tomorrow evening. Acolyte Halls, stay behind."
Kevin,
who had automatically got to his feet with the rest of his year, sat
back down slowly. This probably wasn't going to be pretty.
Barrett
didn't waste any words. Closing the door firmly behind the last of the
other acolytes, he turned to fix Kevin with a piercing stare.
"Turner
was arrested early this morning," he said bluntly, "by Cleric DuPont.
You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
Kevin,
who had been expecting Barrett to lay into him about the missing essay
or his behaviour in class, blinked.
"Me,
sir?" he said, feigning surprise. "Do I look like Cleric DuPont to you?"
"You
reported him," Barrett said very softly. It wasn't a question.
"DuPont?"
"No, goddammit!" Barrett actually
lost control of himself enough to slam a hand down on the desk, then
swiftly regained his composure. Kevin smirked.
"Don't
get so het up, sir. You should be more careful with your pronouns."
The
slap, when it came, caught him completely off-guard and he rocked back,
stunned. The blow hadn't been hard enough to do any real damage-even an
acolyte's account of a sense offending Vice-Council would be listened
to if that acolyte was sporting a black eye, and Barrett had been
covering his footsteps for so long it was second nature to him now-but
it was hard enough to shock the boy into silence.
"Let's
get one thing straight," Barrett said coldly, staring at him. "I don't
think I like you, lad. You've got a little too much attitude for my
taste."
In
spite of the stinging pain in his cheek, or maybe because of it, Kevin
raised an eyebrow.
"I
didn't think your bread was buttered that side, sir," he drawled.
This
time the blow was a backhander hard enough to knock him off the chair
and onto the floor.
"That," Barrett said icily, "was
uncalled for."
"Damn
straight," Kevin grunted, raising a hand to his now rather more tender
jaw while fireworks exploded in his back. "Would you mind doing that
again, sir? I think I've still got a few of my teeth left."
"Don't
tempt me," Barrett said. Something in his voice quelled even Kevin; the
acolyte fell silent.
"How
could you?" the Vice-Council said suddenly. "He was your friend."
"He
was my yearmate, sir, not my friend," Kevin said flatly.
"You
contradict me one more time, acolyte," Barrett said in a deadly tone,
"and I swear I'll drag you in
front of the Council myself."
Kevin
struggled to his feet, prudently stepping back out of arm's range as he
did so.
"You
asked how I could do it, sir. I'm just telling you. Turner wasn't my
friend. I didn't even know he was off the dose until yesterday at the
ceremony."
"He
was in the same position you
were."
"Then
he'd have done exactly the same thing, sir. I just beat him to it,
that's all."
The
look Barrett turned on him was tinged with disgust.
"You
don't feel guilty about taking a life?"
"Wasn't
me who took it, sir."
"If
it wasn't for you, he'd still be alive."
"If
it wasn't for whatever or whoever dragged him off Prozium, he'd still
be alive. Since that wasn't me, I'm not sure how any blame can
reasonably be attached, sir, any more than it can be attached to the
number of sense offenders you
turned in."
"What
makes you think I turned in any, acolyte?"
Kevin
snorted.
"Oh please. You don't rise high enough
in the Tetra Grammaton to even be considered
for a seat on the Council by just slapping offenders on the wrist and
telling them not to be so naughty in future." He shrugged. "Hey, I'm
not judging. To be honest, sir, I can't wait until I've got enough
authority to do the same thing myself."
Barrett's
eyes narrowed slightly.
"I
never got around to asking; how did you sustain those injuries,
acolyte?"
"Sorry,
sir. That's on a want to know basis, and I don't want you to know."
"If
you were on Prozium-" Barrett began.
"Oh, if," Kevin drawled. "If covers a pretty wide range,
doesn't it, sir? If the Resistance get a foothold against the Tetra
Grammaton, one or the other will end up being completely destroyed. If
I hadn't reported Turner, someone else would have done. If you hadn't
come off Prozium, my little outburst yesterday would have been a lot
more inconvenient for me. Fact is, I'm not sure what things would be like if I was on Prozium and let's face
it, neither are you."
"Unlike
yourself, acolyte, I can
recommend you be arrested and detained at the Palace of Justice for
clinical interrogation and subsequent processing."
"Not
without a trial you can't," Kevin answered, not missing a beat. "All
Grammaton agents suspected of sense offence, even acolytes, are
entitled to a full trial before detention. All I have to say is
something along the lines of...oh, you were off the dose, raving, and I
believed damage to myself might be sustained, so I told you I had
ceased my Interval in an attempt to calm you down."
"You've
got it all planned out, haven't you?" Barrett said in a deadly tone.
Kevin smirked.
"Have
to, sir. Else who knows? You might try making good on your threat and
having me arrested. And you
know as well as I do that such a thing could put something of a stain
on my record."
"Is
that all you care about?"
"It's
all any acolyte on Prozium would care about, sir. Isn't that right?"
Barrett
strode across to the door, glanced up and down the empty corridor, then
slammed it shut and turned to face Kevin.
"Alright.
We can't be overheard, so I'm going to ask you this once and once only.
Are you off the dose?"
"Can't
be overheard, sir?" Kevin snorted. "Maybe not, but I'd rather not take
that chance, thanks."
"Are you off the dose?" Barrett
repeated, in a tone that could cut diamond.
Kevin
met his gaze squarely.
"Are you?"
There
was a cold silence.
"Acolyte
Turner-" Barrett began.
"-couldn't
find the sky on a starry night, sir, as we both know," Kevin told him
flatly. He glanced pointedly at the clock. "Is that all, sir?"
"No
it damn well isn't! Sit down!"
Kevin
moved stiffly over to his seat and perched on the edge of it.
"Did
you steal that Talrium?"
Kevin
blinked.
"What
Talrium?" he said automatically.
"Don't
give me that-'what Talrium'! The Talrium that went missing and which
you were brought in front of the medic about."
"Oh, that Talrium." Kevin shook his
head, smirking very slightly. "Strangest thing, sir; the medic forgot
to say I could borrow it. He told me to shove it up my arse. I think he
may be an offender."
"What
was your first clue?" Barrett said coldly.
"Well,
sir, I'm sure he just made a slight error; trying to keep his secret
must be particularly tiring. So I took the liberty of, ah, borrowing it."
"Borrowing,"
Barrett echoed tonelessly. "So when you're done with it, you're going
to give it back, are you?"
"Given
how it's likely to leave my bloodstream, sir, I'm not sure the medic's
likely to want it back, but if he does,
I'm more than happy to oblige. Sir."
The
Vice-Council fixed Kevin with an icy stare.
"I'm
warning you, lad. If you try the same thing on that medic as you did to
your yearmate-"
"No
danger of that, sir," Kevin interrupted. "I think I could use a medic
on my side, or at least one who'll cooperate in exchange for my
silence. May I go now, sir?"
Barrett
hesitated, then sighed.
"Yes,
alright, you can go. Report to the canteen for lunch."
"Sir."
Kevin turned and walked smartly out, his mind racing a lot faster than
his body, wondering frantically what the hell had just happened.
It
continued to race right up until he reached the bench at his year's
table and sat down opposite Andersen and Simmerson.
"What
did the Vice-Council want?" Andersen asked. Kevin glanced at him.
Andersen was his main rival in class and, Prozium aside, there was no
love lost between either of them.
"He
wanted to discuss my Gun-Kata proficiency," he said smoothly.
"Why
didn't he do that in class?"
Kevin
shrugged carefully.
"I
don't know. Maybe he felt it was worth a private word." He shook his
head. "Whatever the reason, Andersen, you're not a Cleric yet and
neither am I. It's not our affair."
The
other acolyte's eyes narrowed.
"'Not
our affair'? Halls, if the Resistance has somehow managed to compromise
the Council-"
Shock
flung itself through Kevin's body.
Shit! Shit, shit, shit! The old man a Resistance member; why
the fuck didn't I think of that one??
Andersen
continued, seemingly unaware of the emotions raging through his
yearmate.
"-then
the Clerics have a right to know!"
Kevin
eyed him coldly, already getting hold of his rampaging feelings. He was
mildly surprised to find he disliked Andersen. It wasn't really
possible to like people on Prozium, since there wasn't much of them to like, but Kevin strongly
suspected that even off the dose, Andersen would still be a jerk.
"No
Cleric has a right to summarily execute another without a fair trial,"
he quoted. Something like that anyway; law wasn't exactly his best
subject.
"We're
not Clerics." Andersen threw Kevin's own words back at him. "There's
nothing to stop us reporting
him."
Kevin
shrugged again. He'd returned to the dormitory just before lunch and
injected himself from the stolen bottle of Talrium and his back had
quietened down considerably, resulting in his far more even temper.
"So
report him if you feel the need to. I don't believe he's any threat to
us."
Andersen's
eyes narrowed.
"Are
you off the dose, Halls?"
Kevin's
eyebrows shot up.
"If I
was, Andersen, do
you really believe I'd be dumb enough to tell you? Give me some credit.
And besides, how many times have you seen me dose?"
"Only
once at lunch. The morning and evening intervals are administered when
you're in the dormitory, as you well know. And since-unlike you-I still have parents, I've
never been in a position to observe you there."
There
was no obvious malice in this sentence; Andersen would probably have
commented on the weather in the exact same tones. But Kevin couldn't
shake the irritating feeling that this particular acolyte knew more
than he was letting on.
"Ask
the other two then," he said blandly. "Ask Jacobs. Or Turn-" Kevin
broke off abruptly.
"Turner
will be dead by tomorrow evening," Andersen said. He spoke
matter-of-factly, as though the event had already happened. Kevin
remained calm, forced himself to meet the other acolyte's steel gaze.
"I
know. I was the one who reported him."
There
was a tight silence, then Andersen abruptly nodded and returned his
attention to his food. Kevin tried to do the same, although Tuesday's
lunch menu-meatloaf and mash-wasn't his favourite meal. The Monastery's
way of preparing meatloaf would be enough to make flies feel ill, and Kevin didn't
like to think about what kind of meat he was actually eating. Knowing
the Tetra Grammaton, it could be anything bar human flesh, and, Kevin
thought sourly, he wasn't prepared to bet everything on that one either.
A
quiet murmur of voices drew his attention to a side door. Normally
meals were conducted in silence; people on Prozium only ever spoke when
they had something vital to say.
Vice-Council
Barrett was talking to the same medic Kevin had spoken to earlier.
Their voices were too low to make anything out, but Kevin had a nasty
feeling that the topic of their conversation concerned him in some way.
He
glanced from Barrett to the medic. One definite sense offender and one
who could quite easily be; Kevin wasn't entirely convinced that half of
the medic's actions were those of a man on Prozium, and the same could
quite easily be said about DuPont, wherever he was.
Kevin
hadn't heard much music in his life. Spending every minute of every day
in the Monastery didn't exactly make it easy to listen to illegal CDs.
But he did remember some music his mother had been listening to, just
before she'd been arrested for sense offence. It was the haziest of
hazy memories-both his parents had been processed when he was barely
three years old-but the words kept recurring at odd moments and he
thought them a strangely apt description of the sense offenders'
network in Libria.
Everybody's playing the game...but nobody's rules are the
same...
Kevin
put his knife and fork down and pushed his plate away. He'd suddenly
lost his appetite.
"What
were you doing in history class?" Andersen said suddenly.
Kevin
glanced at him without much interest, all too aware of what the other
acolyte was referring to.
"Practising
sense offender codes," he said dismissively. Andersen held his gaze for
a few minutes (or thought he did anyway; hidden behind the shades,
Kevin's eyes were actually focused on Barrett) then nodded curtly.
Terminology like Kevin had used wasn't common in Libria, but Clerics
and acolytes had to keep on top of various slang words and phrases used
by offenders.
The
bell rang again, signalling the end of lunch. As one, the acolytes got
to their feet and started towards the door, then paused as Barrett
stepped into the middle of the room and held up a hand, staring
directly at Kevin.
"Acolyte
Halls, a word please. The rest of you may go."
Now what does he want? Kevin
wondered as the other acolytes filed out, some looking at him
suspiciously. He remained standing, more through habit than anything;
it wasn't done to remain sitting when being addressed by a member of
the Council.
As
the last acolyte left the room, Barrett crossed the room to stand
directly in front of Kevin.
"Forget
something, sir?" Kevin asked innocently.
"I
seem to be missing your essay on hate cadences, acolyte."
"You
kept me behind to say that?"
Kevin said, his incredulity not entirely feigned. He shook his head.
"With all due respect, sir, you should really take more care. People
might start thinking you're a sense offender."
"Do
you enjoy trying to make me
squirm, Halls?"
"I
have no feelings about it one way or the other, sir; I was merely
requesting clarification of an issue."
Barrett
eyed him sourly.
"Wipe
that smirk off your face, acolyte, and maybe people will believe you. I
suppose you feel you were being clever earlier on this morning?"
"Feel,
sir?"
"Smugness
and complacency are classified as C-grade emotions, Halls. You know
that as well as I do."
Kevin
smirked.
"Yes
sir. And fear is classified as an A-grade emotion, and I'm picking up
on a fair amount of that from your direction. What did you feel when you injected yourself this morning,
sir?"
"You
really are a nasty piece of work, aren't you?" Barrett said, staring
coldly at him.
"Takes
one to know one, sir. And, unlike most sense offenders, at least I don't claim that my being an
asshole is going to make the world a nicer place."
"Have
you met many offenders, acolyte?" Barrett said. Was it his imagination,
or had the boy's face closed up slightly?
"I've
met enough, sir," Kevin said in bone-dry tones. "Bastards, the lot of
them."
Barrett
fixed him with a steely glare.
"I
don't approve of profanity, as you well know. I advise you to tread
very, very carefully, Halls."
"Why,
sir? What are you going to do to me?"
"I
think you seem to be forgetting that I can have you reported for sense
offence any time I choose."
"Yeah,
right." Kevin shook his head. "You want to know what I think, sir? I think that you've
done this before. You've found sense offenders and helped
them...whether they were acolytes like me, I don't know and I don't
really care. But I think that they were pretty much falling on your
neck with relief and gratitude and you're just pissed off that I
haven't done the same. Am I close?"
Barrett
raised his eyebrows.
"No,"
he said flatly, despite the uncomfortable feeling that the acolyte was
actually a lot closer to the truth than he, Barrett, cared to admit.
Kevin
raised his eyebrows.
"You
sure about that, sir?" He shook his head again. "You know, if my
attitude bugs you, insulting me, asking personal questions and
threatening to have me burned alive isn't going to do much to endear
you to me."
"You
know damn well that if I report this conversation-"
"Yes
sir?" Kevin cut across. "And what exactly will you report? That I referred to
sense offenders as bastards? Why would that offend a Vice-Council, a
proper, on-the-dose, everything by the book Vice-Council such as
yourself...sir?"
Barrett
set his jaw ever so slightly.
"Do
you think I was born yesterday, lad?"
"Either
that or the day before," Kevin retorted unguardedly.
The
Vice-Council shifted very slightly. He could already feel a smile
bubbling up inside him and so turned away rather abruptly.
"You're
dismissed. Get to the gym; I'll see you there. Even if you can't
participate, you can at least watch."
"I'm
fully recovered, sir."
"You're
also a bloody liar, lad; the operative word being 'bloody'. How well do
you think you'll do in the exams if you get yourself killed or more
severely injured in training."
"Great,"
Kevin muttered under his breath. "Sitting to one side while the others
wind up getting ahead. You know, sir, I can't think of anything I'd rather do." Except possibly get castrated with
a rusty hacksaw, he added mentally.
"Don't
tempt me," Barrett told him unsmilingly. "Tell me, lad; how long do you
think you'll last on your own?"
Kevin
raised an eyebrow.
"I've
managed for a good few years on my own, sir. That's a lot longer than
most sense offenders get. Most are rounded up after a few months for
sentencing. And speaking of sentencing, sir, didn't you want to give me
a detention or something? It's just I want to get to the gym as soon as
possible."
"I'm
not letting you participate, Halls, and that's final. As to your
punishment..." Barrett hesitated. The standard penalty was a week on
heavy fatigues, but in light of Halls' injuries, he found he couldn't
bring himself to do it. Besides, Vice-Councils had their own individual
ways of keeping discipline.
Barrett
pulled out a piece of paper and scrawled an address on it.
"Get
down to transport this evening, get a driver and tell him to take you
to this address. This evening, mind, or I promise you I'll start
talking about you tomorrow."
Kevin
eyed the paper like he would a snake.
"Are
you sure, sir?" the driver said, somewhat dubiously.
"Of
course I'm sure," Kevin answered, privately exasperated. It was the
third time in the last minute that the man had asked him that. Although
fully graduated Clerics had priority over acolytes when it came to
vehicles, there were usually some spare ones in transport.
"You
are aware this will take you out after curfew, sir?"
"I
am. I am also aware that a) I
happen to be a Grammaton acolyte at the top of my class and as such
entitled to greater privileges than my yearmates and b) I happen to be
going to visit one of the most senior Council members. If you have
concerns I advise you to either take them up with Vice-Council Barrett
or keep quiet and get me there. Now."
"Yes
sir." Cowed, the driver opened the door and Kevin slid in. For a
minute, the acolyte wondered whether he ought to have worn his dress
uniform, then dismissed the thought irritably.
They'd
been travelling for about half an hour before the driver pulled up.
Kevin glanced out the window.
"This
is it?"
"Yes,
sir."
Kevin
hesitated, then his natural curiosity got the better of him.
"Alright.
Wait for me here. If I'm not back by-" he glanced at his chronometer
"-eleven, come and get me. Understand?"
"Yes
sir." Effectively relieved of his duty, the driver flapped open a
newspaper and started to read as Kevin got out of the car and strode
over to the Vice-Council's complex. It was a lot more spacious than
most of Libria; since space was at a premium, it was only the most
important members of the city who were granted the more roomy living
quarters.
Kevin
paused outside the door to Barrett's apartment. The older man was
talking inside on the phone, and if he strained his ears, Kevin could
just about make out what he was saying.
"Yes...Look,
I don't know why you called me at this number! You must realise how
dangerous that is!...Yes...Yes, alright, I'll do what I can...He's
what?...If you think I'm getting involved in anything like that you can damn well think again!"
Kevin
raised his eyebrows.
Interesting...
"No,
I don't know what he wants...Look, isn't that yourjob?...Yes...No, I haven't
forgotten...Alright, fine. I'll do what I can."
There
was a long silence. Kevin assumed that meant the Vice-Council had put
the phone down and so he reached out to push the door buzzer. The door
was pulled open before he'd touched it.
"Good
evening," Barrett said.
"Involved
in what, sir?" Kevin answered, not bothering to return the greeting.
"You
were listening," Barrett said sharply.
"You
were shouting," Kevin retorted. "Next time, sir, why don't you just
shout that little bit louder and save your phone bill? Involved in
what?"
"That's
not your concern, acolyte."
"Since-judging
from the tone of your voice-you were talking to a sense offender and
possibly Resistance member, and since it's kind of my job to report
things like that, I'm making it my concern, sir. Involved in what?"
Barrett
eyed him suspiciously for a few minutes, then stepped to one side.
"Come
in."
Kevin
hesitated for a few seconds before complying, much to the
Vice-Council's satisfaction. It was about time someone took that boy
down a peg or two!
The
acolyte looked around, taking in every detail...the bare walls, the
huge TV screen, the plain, black covered sofa (while all covers and
linen only ever ranged from black to white, even the Tetra Grammaton
made allowances for its senior members) and the book on the table. The
EC-10 rated book. Kevin glanced at the title out of the corner of his
eye: The Ladykiller, by
someone called Martina Cole. He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"How
do you know I'm not going to report you?" he asked suddenly, nodding
towards the book.
"How
do you know I'm not going to report you?"
Barrett countered. There was no real severity in his tone. The two of
them might have been discussing a hypothesis in class. The Vice-Council
shook his head. "Listen to me, lad, and listen well because I think we
need to get this straight before we go any further. Acolytes are
constantly making mistakes, ever since Henriksen."
Kevin
blinked.
"Who?"
"He
found a traitor in the Tetra Grammaton, and that traitor revealed a
large number of Resistance fighters. Henriksen was about your age at
the time, and it seemed too far-fetched to believe that an acolyte had
found what all the Clerics had somehow missed, but it was true."
Barrett sighed. "Ever since then, some acolytes have been making wild
assumptions based on the slightest little thing. Nobody would believe
you even if you attempted to tell someone."
"I
could get you committed for a polygraph test."
"Only
senior Clerics have the right to do such a thing without the permission
of the Vice-Council responsible for their sector. Since, in your case,
that happens to be me, and since I'll probably be dead of old age
before you reach senior Cleric, or at least retired, I'm sure you won't
take offence when I tell you that I'm not too worried."
Kevin
regarded him bitterly.
"And
all you have to do is snap
your fingers and you can get me arrested, clinically interrogated and
summarily executed."
"That's
pretty much it." Barrett leaned back in the comfortable chair. "Do you
want a drink?"
"No
thank you, sir," Kevin said stiffly. He was parched, but not yet so
parched as to take a drink from someone whose job it was to kill sense
offenders like him. He paused, trying to shape the question into
something that would make sense. "Sir...may I inquire as to the reason
for your summoning me here?"
"You
may, acolyte. Law dictates that the homes of all high-ranking members
affiliated with the Tetra Grammaton-ie, Clerics and upwards-are, unlike
the habitations of everyone else, not bugged. We can speak freely."
Kevin
remained unconvinced.
"You'd
say the same thing if we couldn't. I suppose you're waiting for me to
confess."
"Confess?"
Abruptly, shockingly, Barrett laughed, causing Kevin to inadvertently
take one or two steps back. He'd only heard two or three people laugh
before, and hadn't relished the experience.
Barrett
shook his head, still grinning.
"No
lad, I'm not waiting for you to confess. We both know the truth. I
wouldn't say a confession was necessary." He paused. "How long?" he
said suddenly.
Kevin
shifted his weight.
What the hell. He's as much of an offender as I am. It
couldn't hurt to have an ally on the Council.
"Long
enough," he said evasively. Barrett raised an eyebrow.
"I
see. None of my business, right?"
"Your
words, not mine, sir," the acolyte answered, voice never wavering from
its normal impassive tones. If Barrett was arrested, and spilled his
guts, Kevin would rather he tell the Tetra Grammaton about his skipping
Prozium rather than his being totally immune to the stuff. "What did
you want to speak to me about?"
"Who,
ah, who else do you know who's ceased their interval?"
Kevin
raised his eyebrows.
"Well,
acolyte Turner for one, sir."
"Let
me rephrase that," Barrett said, slightly stiffly. "Who else do you
know who's ceased their interval who's still alive?"
Kevin
pretended to think before looking back up at him.
"You,
sir?"
"Besides
me." Kevin got the distinct impression that Barrett was having to
struggle quite hard to keep his tone that pleasant.
"Not
really sir, no. Not that I'm sure of, if you get my meaning."
"What
about members of the Resistance?"
Kevin
felt his blood turn to ice in his veins.
"What Resistance, sir?" he said coldly.
"Don't
play games with me, lad. You know the Resistance exists just as well as
I do."
Kevin
shook his head.
"You
think I want to join? Think again, sir. I'm not suicidal."
"Really?"
Barrett said evenly.
The
acolyte continued to hold his gaze for a few minutes, then took a deep
breath.
"Look.
If this is about that incident with Cleric Nelson's sidearm, I'm sorry, but I wasn't myself that
day," he said in a tone of tight control. "I was tested and found to be
a good little Prozium junkie, just like the rest of those lucky guys
out there."
"Incident?"
Barrett said calmly. "I never heard about any such incident." He raised
his eyebrows. "Is there something you'd like to share, Halls?"
Kevin,
realising that he'd said too much, snapped his jaw shut and counted to
three before saying calmly, "No sir. Nothing whatsoever."
"You're
not interested in joining at all?"
"As a
spy, sir, or a rebel?"
"A
rebel, of course."
A
jolt like an ice-cold electric shock went through the acolyte's body,
almost invisible unless-like Barrett-you were watching closely.
"No.
Way," Kevin said through clenched teeth in a voice that felt like it
belonged to someone else. "No. Fucking. Way. And if that's all you brought
me up for, I'm going!"
"It
might not be as bad as you think," Barrett said, reaching out a hand to
detain him. "Stranger things have happened."
"Only
one," Kevin answered coldly, "and that was the Tetran Revolt of 2301
when the number of Cleric sense offenders outnumbered those on the dose
and almost managed to assassinate Father." He raised arrogant eyebrows.
"I did that essay, sir."
"If
it is as terrible as all
that, why don't you just go back on the dose?" Barrett asked
reasonably. Too reasonably,
Kevin thought.
"Because
I can't," he said flatly. "Don't you think I want to?" He shook his head. "Let
me tell you, I would give absolutely anything
to be able to just shoot the needle, zap the pain away. But I can't,
and nothing you say or do is ever going to change that."
"Why
not? You have the unit. You have the Prozium. Why don't you just dose
and 'zap the pain away', as you put it?"
Kevin
stared at him for so long that even Barrett started to feel slightly
uncomfortable.
"Whose
side are you on, sir?" the acolyte said finally.
"Yours,
lad. Who else's?"
The
look on Kevin's face unnerved the Vice-Council slightly. It was the
look of someone who had long since come to terms with the real world
and everything in it.
"Don't
make me laugh. My side has room for one person and one person only; me."
Barrett
met his gaze steadily.
"I
don't believe that."
"Believe
what you want. I don't give a shit. Now, if you're done with me, I've
got that assignment on Gun-Kata to finish."
"Damn the assignment!" Barrett said
sharply. Kevin's expression didn't alter in the slightest.
"If
you say so, sir. Goodnight."
"We're
not finished yet. Stay where you are, and that's an order."
Kevin,
his hand already on the door, paused and glanced over his shoulder.
That haunted expression had left his face. Now he looked merely bored.
"Make
me," he drawled, and opened the door.
"I'll
tell the Clerics you're a sense offender."
Kevin
sniggered.
"And I'll tell them you're a raving
loony, sir. Put me through as many tests as you like; I somehow think
the Council will find in my favour."
"Your
arrogance surprises even me," Barrett said, eyeing him narrowly.
"You're just an acolyte, Halls. Do you really think you'll swing that
much weight with the Council?"
Kevin
raised his eyebrows.
"You do, sir."
To
his surprise, Barrett found that he did. The others he'd helped had
been almost pathetically grateful, and guarded his secret with their
lives. Barrett knew they had, because every one of them had, sooner or
later, been arrested, clinically interrogated and processed, and he was
still around. Someone in Halls' position didn't act like they had the
key to the crapper unless they knew something you didn't.
"You're
pushing your luck even off the dose," he said, a definite warning in
his tone.
"Well,
if I don't believe in myself,
sir, how can I reasonably expect anyone else to?" Kevin shook his head.
"You know what? I've read a few books in my time-EC-10 ones-and what
you're saying strikes a chord with some of those. 'I'm telling! I don't like you so if you don't start
being my friend, I'll tell the teacher on you!'." He paused. "Only
'teacher' has now become Cleric, hasn't it? Play my game, do things my
way and everything will be alright. Don't and I'll tell on you. That's
what you're saying, isn't it?" He smirked. "Little advice for you. Most
people outgrow this by the age of six, not sixty."
The
acolyte nodded to Barrett in a manner that was nothing short of
insolent.
"Goodnight...sir," he said calmly, then turned and walked out the door,
closing it sedately behind him.
Barrett
had an inclination to call him back, one that was severely moderated
both by the need for discretion and an unpleasant, nagging feeling that
Halls was right.
Outside,
Kevin yanked open the car door so hard that it almost bounced shut
again, then slid into the back seat.
"Take
me back to the Monastery," he ordered the driver, his tone properly
impassive. "Immediately," he
added. He didn't like the idea of Barrett coming after him.
The
drive back passed in silence; Kevin was inwardly fuming at Barrett. Who
did the old man think he was, prying like that?
"What
did he want?" Jacobs demanded as soon as Kevin entered the dormitory.
Jeez, what does a guy have to do to get a
little privacy around here?
Kevin thought irritably. Aloud he said, "Nothing that concerns you. Go
back to sleep."
He
lay down on his mattress to try and follow his own advice. This time he
didn't get more than about two hours' sleep before screaming himself
awake again.
Some
miles away in a more exclusive part of Libria, Barrett stayed up
thinking long and hard that night. He'd half expected Halls to turn
down his suggestion of going to the Resistance for help-you didn't need
the intuitive arts to tell you that the acolyte was exceptionally
proud-but he'd been completely thrown by the vehemence of the refusal.
If only Halls didn't wear those dark glasses! Barrett thought he could
get a handle on the boy's real feelings a lot better if he could look
him directly in the eyes.
There
had been...what? Anger, yes, but he'd pretty much expected that; Halls
got thoroughly pissed off at the slightest hint that he couldn't take
care of himself. Hate, well, that would pass, Barrett had no doubt of
that. Real, true hatred was as rare as true love. But there was
something else...fear. There had been real, honest-to-God terror in the
boy's face and voice. Why?
was what was threatening to drive Barrett up the wall. Any acolyte in
the Resistance would be welcomed with open arms; he knew that much from
experience. It was a hell of a risk, but then, so was coming off the
dose in the first place. You might as well take risks among friends as
on your own.
And speaking of risks, a nasty little voice inside him
whispered, what were you playing at this evening? If Halls happens to
mention your little meeting, you'll be hauled up in front of the Palace
of Justice before you can blink.
Barrett
felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He'd just put his life in the
hands of someone who, apparently, would have no qualms about giving it
to the Palace of Justice to play with if he thought it would buy him
more time. Look at what the kid did to his own yearmate. Unlike most
sense offenders, Kevin Halls seemed utterly ruthless, destroying anyone
who posed even the slightest threat to him without hesitation and
seemingly without remorse, and he was smart.
The youngest acolyte Barrett had ever helped had been six years old,
and the kid had been arrested and processed six months later. Barrett
had known about him right from the word go, but Halls...the first
indication Barrett had had of that
sense offence had been yesterday in training.
The
Vice-Council took down a glass and half filled it with water, then
looked at it for a long few seconds and said aloud, "Screw it." Walking
into his bathroom, he prised the side off the bath and withdrew a
nearly empty bottle of Scotch, then poured a liberal amount into the
glass and replaced the whiskey. Grammaton agents refused strong drugs
of all kinds (and alcohol was pretty high up that list) but Barrett
knew for a fact that he wasn't the only one who had a little nip every
now and again. Vice-Councils were usually entitled to more leeway.
Taking
a long swallow and shivering slightly with pleasure as it slid down his
throat, Barrett sat down at the table, lost in thought. If Halls
planned to make a nuisance of himself, he'd have to do something about
the boy, and soon.
Chapter 3 
