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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)
Terror
momentarily rooted Kevin to the spot, freezing him.
"I'm waiting, acolyte," Preston said crisply.
Kevin, who viewed attack as the primary—and only worthwhile—form of
defence, paused for a second or two to compose himself and then met
Preston's gaze steadily from behind his dark glasses.
"Is subterfuge an approved part of Tetra Grammaton operations now,
sir?" he demanded, as boldly as he dared.
"Subterfuge?" Preston echoed. "What do you mean?"
"Entrapment, sir."
"Entrapment?" Preston repeated, the look in his eyes causing Kevin to
reluctantly swallow the comment about echoes that was currently flying
up his throat. "Entrapment into what, acolyte?"
Damn good question,
Kevin thought, frantically racking his brains for the answer.
Aloud he said, "Impersonation, then, sir."
"That's the third time in nearly as many seconds you have changed your
mind, acolyte," Preston said, his voice dangerous. "Are you
normally given to such indecision?"
Kevin bit back an urge to laugh on the conviction that it would
literally prove fatal and settled for shaking his head instead.
Cleric, if you
only knew…
"I beg your pardon?" Preston said pointedly.
"No sir," Kevin said obligingly.
"Then perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me who either myself or
my partner are supposed to have impersonated."
Kevin swallowed. This was going to be exceedingly difficult.
"Vice-Council Barrett, sir."
"Indeed?" Now Preston was regarding him with dark suspicion. "And
can you think of any reason why I should want to do something like
that, acolyte?"
Yes, Kevin thought
irritably, because you're a smarmy
bastard who'd like nothing better than to see me processed!
"Not you, sir," he said, as neutrally as he could. "Your
partner."
"My partner?" Preston looked over at the older man standing next to him
as though wondering how in Libria he could have wound up with something
as trivial as a partner. "What's my partner got to do with any of
this?"
"He tricked me into believing he was Vice-Council Barrett, sir.
They have the same regional accent."
"Really," Preston said matter-of-factly. "Then answer me this;
firstly, what was meant by your earlier comment about sense offenders,
and secondly, what difference does it make whether you were asked by
Barrett or Partridge, or even Father himself? Why should you give
a different answer to Barrett?"
Kevin, beginning to see for the first time where this line of
questioning was leading, swallowed.
"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Preston persisted.
There were several somethings Kevin would have liked to say to him, and
only one of them involved the word 'sir'. Unfortunately, since he
didn't think it a good idea to piss off someone with not only the means
but the legal right to put a bullet in his face, he reluctantly settled
for, "No sir."
Preston continued to regard him through unfathomable eyes before
saying, "Is it possible you mistook that for a question, acolyte?"
"Very possible, sir," Kevin said before he could stop himself, then bit
his tongue so hard he tasted blood.
"You're feeling." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of
fact.
"If I was feeling, sir, would I be standing here now?"
Preston narrowed his eyes.
"I'll ask the questions, acolyte. Name?"
"Halls, sir."
"Halls," Preston repeated coolly. "Alright. You have thirty
seconds to explain the reasoning behind your remark before I arrest
you."
The acolyte hesitated. Should he run? Kevin wondered what
his chances were of being able to bluff his way out of this one.
Then he wondered what his chances were of outrunning Cleric John
Preston and decided that bluffing had to be at least worth a go.
"I was practising colloquialisms," he tried.
"Colloquialisms?" Preston echoed. If it hadn't been impossible,
Kevin would be prepared to swear the Cleric would have laughed in his
face.
"Yes sir."
Silence.
"I'd be careful if I were you, acolyte," Preston said suddenly.
"Such, ah, practising could easily be misconstrued."
"Only by a particularly zealous Cleric who cared more about making a
name for himself than he did about doing his job right, sir," Kevin
dared to say.
Time seemed to freeze around him, then Preston snapped, "Just what are
you implying, Halls?"
Kevin allowed an expression of confused stupidity to drift across his
face. It was a calculated risk, he knew, but it was one that
might just pay off.
"I wasn't aware that I was implying anything, sir."
"Indeed," Preston said coolly.
"Sir."
There was a silence, then Preston said abruptly, "You must consider me
incredibly dull-witted, acolyte."
Wrong, Kevin
thought bitterly. If he'd really
considered Preston to be dull-witted, he'd have stuck to the
colloquialism story. It had worked on Andersen, after all.
"Dull-witted, sir?" he said aloud.
"Don't play games with me, Halls." There was a definite edge to
the Cleric's voice that hadn't been there previously.
It was on the tip of Kevin's tongue to say, "Games, sir?" but he valued
his life and restrained himself.
"Sir."
Footsteps drew the attention of all three agents to the corridor
leading to the gymnasium as Andersen emerged. For possibly the
first time in his life, Kevin was glad to see him.
"Acolyte!" Partridge rapped out sharply. Andersen stopped
abruptly, already at attention.
"Yes sir?"
"Is this one of your yearmates?"
Andersen glanced at Kevin, seemingly with no real interest.
"Yes sir."
"Do you believe him to be on the dose?"
There was a gleam in Andersen's eyes which only Kevin noticed, and his
own eyes narrowed behind his shades, that feeling of gladness
evaporating. He should have known better than to push the other
acolyte earlier on; Andersen wouldn't let the kind of insults Kevin had
given him go unavenged for long.
"No sir. I don't. I was instructed to take him for an
emergency Prozium test by Vice-Council Barrett. Unfortunately,
Halls managed to give me the slip."
"Really?" Preston eyed Andersen coolly. "Are you usually so
incompetent, acolyte?"
Kevin felt a laugh rising inside him and broke out coughing in an
attempt to hide it, regretting his action the instant Preston's partner
fixed cold blue eyes on him.
"Are you unwell, acolyte?"
Numerous replies flew through Kevin's mind and he picked the one least
likely to get him dropped in the shit.
"Nothing serious, sir. I was taken ill on my last excursion into
the Nethers."
"Your last excursion into the Nethers."
"Yes sir."
Partridge set his jaw ever so slightly.
"The one you went on a year ago?"
Oh bugger, Kevin
thought wretchedly. Had it really been a year? He supposed
it must be; he'd turned eleven in the Nethers and he...
The acolyte gave a mental frown. Actually, now he thought about
it, he'd turned twelve a couple of weeks ago, hadn't he? Days
seemed to blur into one in the Monastery, with only the curriculum to
tell one from the other, and it wasn't as if birthdays were
particularly celebrated in Libria.
There was nothing he could say to Partridge's query other than, "Yes
sir."
"A particularly virulent disease then, acolyte."
"Sir."
"Perhaps a quarantine period may be in order."
Dear god, no!
Kevin thought desperately. That was all he needed, to be locked
under the Tetra Grammaton's constant scrutiny twenty four seven for the
next however many months.
"I agree, sir," Andersen said, looking at Kevin as though he'd caught
him eating a live cockroach.
"I wasn't addressing you, acolyte," Partridge said coldly.
Andersen coloured slightly and dropped his gaze.
"No sir. Sorry sir. But sir...I was sent here to retrieve
acolyte Halls for training; the Vice-Council was very specific about
that."
"Get down to the medical wing," Preston said crisply to Halls.
"I'm reporting you for a Prozium test."
Kevin shook his head.
"Sorry sir, I can't. You heard Andersen; I'm under orders to
return to the gym immediately. Orders from Vice-Council Barrett,
sir," Kevin added smoothly, stressing the title ever so slightly and
reminding Preston that, for all his skill in the intuitive arts, he was
still only a Cleric, and not a particularly high-ranking one at that.
Preston set his jaw ever so slightly.
"In that case, Halls, you will report there this evening after
training. Is that understood?"
The words 'Well, duh' shot up
Kevin's throat, and it was only with a supreme effort that he managed
to choke them down.
"Yes sir," he said. Preston eyed him in a manner which said this
wasn't over, not by a long shot.
"Dismissed."
Kevin didn't bother to answer, but simply came briefly to attention
before stridng away, making a mental note to get even with Andersen
before too long.
He glanced at the clock. Four oh five pm. If the test that
evening went wrong, Kevin thought he'd probably have, at best, about
two more hours to live.
Starting now.
He shook his head and, since there was nobody around to see, grinned
tightly. Most characters in the little EC-10 he'd sampled who
found themselves in his current situation had a tendency to waste
precious time in lamenting the fact that they'd never see another
sunrise, or smell another flower, and Kevin had never seen the point of
it. He'd seen sunrises before. One or two had admittedly
been pretty spectacular, but overall they were nothing special.
As for smelling flowers...well, Kevin had never even seen a flower
except in books (only black and white, Council-approved scientific
diagrams, of course) let alone smelt one, and he knew damn well that no
sense offender ever had either.
Kevin snorted. If he were to find out for sure that he'd only got
a couple of days to live, he wouldn't waste time whinging. He
wasn't entirely sure where he stood on the Tetra Grammaton's view of
emotions, but he thought they'd got one thing bang on; self-pity was
nothing but pure weakness.
Only when we accept the
inevitability of our own deaths can we truly begin to live.
Who had said that? Kevin couldn't for the life of him
remember. He supposed it must have been in some kind of EC-10 or
other.
He shook his head again, dispelling such thoughts.
Plenty of time for waxing
philosophical later. Get through this evening first, then you can
relax.
The acolyte snorted out loud. Relax? That was a
laugh. The only form of relaxation he ever had was sleep, and
even then he was so terrified of screaming himself awake and into an
early grave that he rarely managed more than a few hours' fitful dozing
a night.
Well. Maybe after this was over he'd be able to get some real
sleep, even if it meant asking Barrett to relocate Jacobs and find a
way to get rid of the Cleric patrols for one night.
Kevin pushed open the door to the gym and stepped through.
He didn't see Andersen again until about half an hour before the end of
the class, and even then they didn't get a chance to pair off;
Barrett—possibly having learnt his lesson—saw to that personally.
At the end, Kevin started to follow the other acolyte, only to find his
arm caught just above the elbow.
"Going somewhere?" Barrett said calmly.
Kevin bit back the first reply that came to his lips and settled for
saying, "Out, sir. Lessons are over for the day. Or did you
want to talk to me about something?"
"I don't want you picking a fight with Andersen."
Kevin stared disbelievingly.
"Oh come on, sir, I'm looking forward to that!"
"I'm sure," Barrett said icily.
"He knows about my sense offending, anyway," Kevin added.
"Just like you know about his,
no doubt." The Vice-Council shook his head. "Leave him
alone, Halls. I'll talk to him, get him to lay off you."
Kevin stiffened.
"I do my own fighting, sir."
"I know, lad. I know." Barrett settled himself more
comfortably on the hard bench; he'd taken a bullet in the leg as a
Cleric and the injury still ached in damp weather. It took a good
few minutes for him to notice Kevin's air of expectation, and he
blinked at him. "Are you waiting for something, acolyte?"
Kevin shrugged.
"Sort of, sir. See, as it's my job to know what you're thinking,
I know that you're thinking of telling me to wait because you want to
know what Preston was talking to me about. I thought I'd save you
the effort and just stay put, sir."
Barrett raised his eyebrows.
"Do you ever get tired of second-guessing games, lad?"
"Not really sir, no," Kevin answered candidly. "They're about the
only pleasure I can indulge in without being arrested for the
privilege."
Barrett rolled his eyes.
"Alright. Since it gives you such pleasure, acolyte, I will
oblige; what was Preston talking to you about?"
"Nothing," Kevin lied smoothly. He started to slide to his feet
but froze as Barrett fixed him with a steely look.
"With you, acolyte, it's never
'nothing'."
Kevin grimaced.
"I have to go for a Prozium test, sir."
"What? Are you out of
your bloody mind, lad?"
Kevin winced.
"Sir, while I appreciate the fact that you outrank me, and that I'm not
entitled to give you orders, I hope you won't take it amiss if I humbly
request you keep your goddamn voice down, for both our sakes! And
besides, it's not like I volunteered for it!"
"Only you, lad," Barrett said tiredly. "Only you could take someone down for
suspected sense offence and wind up getting arrested yourself. It
takes a special kind of person to pull off a screw-up like that."
"You've made your point, sir." Now Kevin sounded distinctly sulky.
"You don't seem too concerned, acolyte."
Kevin shrugged.
"I've had tests before, sir. Blood tests are fine and with
polygraphs...well, the arresting Clerics have never been very good at
pushing the right buttons."
Barrett regarded him in silence for a few moments.
"This is Preston you're talking about, lad. That Cleric's already
slated for promotion to fourth class, for all that he graduated barely
six months ago. If you have buttons, he'll find them...and you
have, for all your bravado."
Kevin shrugged again. He supposed he couldn't argue with that;
everyone had a weakness.
"I suppose so, sir. But if Preston knows what my weak spots are,
I'll be very surprised."
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, sir, you've known me all my life, and I don't think you know
what they are. Preston and I have exchanged about fifty
words. Are you seriously telling me he can find my Achilles ankle
based on that?"
"Heel, lad, and to be honest I've no real idea." He paused.
"Preston's been known to claim he can pick up on emotions so slight
even the offender isn't yet aware of them. If that's true..."
Kevin shook his head, cutting him off.
"Yes sir, I've heard that one as well. I think it's just media
hype, some way of trying to frighten or shock offenders."
"Maybe it is. Attacks can come from any angle, Halls. You
should know that."
Something flickered across the acolyte's face for the briefest instant
before he said impassively, "Yes sir. I do, sir."
There was a short pause.
"You know," Barrett said slowly, "there is another way..."
Kevin raised his eyebrows. He wasn't sure how Barrett fitted into
his view of the world, which could best be summed up in the phrase 'them or me' and had roughly
categorised him in his mind as someone who didn't want him
dead...yet. But for all that, the Vice-Council was probably the
only person that Kevin could honestly say he trusted, or at least
trusted slightly more than he distrusted. It had to be worth
listening to him, if nothing else.
"What's that, sir?"
"As I haven't seen you since you took Andersen for that test, you can't
have told me about any Prozium test," Barrett said calmly. "But I
think your practical skills could use a little work, so I might just
send you a written order for an excursion into the Nethers
tonight. Via your dorm-mate, of course."
"Oh, of course," Kevin
drawled, then shook his head. "That's your offer, sir?
Instead of dying in the furnaces, I get to go out and die in the
Nethers instead?" He snorted. "Someone hold me back."
Barrett regarded him steadily.
"Who said anything about dying, lad?"
The acolyte sighed.
"Right, sir. I go out there, alone of course, and your little
Resistance friends will let me live...how long? Four hours?
Six? Maybe even let me get within sight of the city gates before
I wind up in another—" Kevin shut his mouth so abruptly he almost
trapped his tongue.
"Another what, lad?" Barrett said very quietly.
"Deathtrap, sir," Kevin said calmly, although the Vice-Council couldn't
help noticing that the boy didn't quite meet his eyes when he said
it. "Another deathtrap. I'd be trading one gruesome end for
another. Thanks, but no thanks. At least with the Prozium
test I have a fair chance of coming out alive."
"Lad, why are you so sure the Resistance are going to murder you first
chance they get?" Barrett asked reasonably.
Kevin snorted.
"Alright sir, I'll give it you in layman's terms. Resistance
fighter. Grammaton agent. Not good mix."
"That depends if that agent is off the dose, as you well know."
Kevin shrugged.
"Okay. Let's pretend he is. And let's pretend that the
Resistance happens to hate the Tetra Grammaton with a real
vengeance. This agent's got...what? Life expectancy of
about two seconds? If he's lucky?"
Barrett shook his head.
"I don't know why we're even having this conversation. What makes
you even think the Resistance is going to be around?"
"You have contacts in that Resistance, sir, the same Resistance that
probably wants me to join up and fight for them. You tell them
you know a sense offending acolyte, they tell you that's exactly what they want
and then I get you trying to get me
to take a walk in the Nethers alone and after dark.
Coincidence? I don't think
so."
"You're paranoid, lad."
"Someone has to be, sir. Being paranoid doesn't automatically
mean that people aren't out to get you. It just means they have a
harder time of it, and that can't be bad."
"The Resistance—"
"The world isn't divided into the Tetra Grammaton and the Resistance,
sir," Kevin cut across him. "Many sense offenders never even find
the Resistance, much less join it."
Barrett shook his head.
"You could do something, lad. You could make a difference."
"To what, sir? Why should I fight for people too scared to do
their own dirty work?"
Barrett raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you ever get tired of having to hide your feelings the whole
time, acolyte? What if there was somewhere where you didn't have
to?"
"What if?" Kevin drawled. "What if doesn't cut it, sir, as you
well know. What if I'd died in the Nethers that time? What
if I'd betrayed you—which we both know was my original intention?
What if you'd betrayed me?" He snorted. "Let's
cut the crap, shall we, sir? I'm no more likely to join the
Resistance than Preston."
"If you were on Prozium—" Barrett began.
"Yeah, well, the fact is I'm not,"
Kevin retorted sharply, "and neither are you! Is Prozium optional
when you get on the Council, sir? Only I'm not entirely sure
DuPont's on the dose either."
Barrett blinked.
"Why not?"
"You heard about that group of teenage girls who got arrested, right?"
"Of course." The Tetra Grammaton had picked up four seventeen
year old girls who had been caught watching an EC-10 rated horror
movie. Kevin had been heard to remark rather acerbically that
anyone dumb enough to just watch an illegal film in their own apartment
(laughing and screaming at the appropriate moments) was probably too
stupid to live, and although he usually deplored the acolyte's
cynicism, Barrett couldn't help feeling that he had a point.
"Take a look at this." Kevin slid a page of handwritten notes across
the table to him and Barrett read them aloud.
"'Mary Saunders, Ellen Warsaw, Jennifer Aldwitch and Lisa Putecelli,
arrested 7.09pm, Thursday November 18th, 2489. Clinical
interrogation revealed source of material. No further info.
DOE: 7.09pm, Thursday November 25th, 2489'. What does that
have to do with this?"
"I, er, took a quick look at—"
"Hacked into, you mean."
"—the files," Kevin said, ignoring Barrett's interruption. "There
was something about it that jarred the eye slightly, but I was tired
and so I didn't do much other than note it down. When I was
thinking about it in the dormitory last night, it hit me. Those
girls died exactly a week after their arrest."
Barrett waited patiently until it became clear the acolyte wasn't going
to say anything else, then said, "It took you three days to work that
one out?"
Kevin glared at him.
"Don't you see anything odd about it?"
"Not really. That's how it's done; suspects are processed at the
exact time of their arrest on a later date. There was an EC-10
novelist who said that knowing the date and time of your execution was
even worse than the prospect of clinical interrogation, or something
similar."
"That's the third time you've mentioned EC-10 novelists to me," Kevin
said. "Let me recommend one to you;
a guy called Koji Suzuki. The movies based on his stuff are worth
a look too, if you can track them down. They had an interesting
parallel with life here; watch a certain movie and you die."
"And?"
"These girls had just finished watching that movie when they were
arrested, which is odd in itself. Usually the Tetra Grammaton
doesn't care about letting you see the end and if they had such
concrete evidence against them, they'd have gone straight in. I
managed to grab that movie before it was burnt. It's not
particularly faithful to the original or the book, but there's one
thing that's the point behind all of it. Watch the movie and in
seven days exactly you will die, that was the underlying theme."
Kevin paused. "There were four teenage girls at the start of the
book, around the same ages as the ones who were arrested. They
watched the movie and died exactly seven days later, to the second. Those four who went
to the furnaces watched the movie and died exactly seven days
later. Do you get where I'm coming from here?"
"Coincidence."
"Is it? I think there's a sense of irony to all that which DuPont
probably appreciated, and nobody except him would ever know."
Barrett shook his head.
"It was the sense crime which got them processed, Halls, not the movie
itself. Movies can't kill anyone."
Kevin gave him a twisted smile.
"Yes sir. That's what the people in the book thought too."
"It's absurd. Such a blatant display of sense offence would be
too dangerous. I don't believe DuPont would even consider it."
Kevin snorted.
"Oh, it's perfectly safe, sir. Because nobody can challenge him
about it without revealing that they've read the book or watched the
movie and laying themselves open to a charge of sense offence."
Barrett shook his head again.
"I don't believe it. I know most of the sense offenders in
Libria, and I've never seen DuPont in company with any of them."
Kevin snorted.
"You're thinking like an offender, sir. Think logically.
DuPont's got quite a nice little racket going, hasn't he? I
wouldn't be surprised if he didn't have contacts on the Council before
coming off the dose."
"Impossible," Barrett said matter-of-factly. "Council members
don't skip their dose; they have a responsibility to stay on Prozium at
all costs and refrain from emotions and EC-10 rated items in any way,
shape or form."
There was a thoughtful silence.
"That is the most hypocritical thing I have ever heard, sir," Kevin
said matter-of-factly at the end of it.
Barrett, whose face was now considerably redder, glared at the acolyte.
"It just doesn't make sense. It's better to watch out for other
sense offenders."
"No it's not, sir, and you know it. Help out a sense
offender? Why should DuPont want to do that? All it'll do
is get pressure put on him to join the Resistance and run an increasing
risk of blowing his cover and besides, if you have a load of valuable
EC-10, the last thing you want is the Resistance to succeed. At
worst they'd take it for themselves, at best you'd find it much harder
getting hold of any more, since you'd have to share it with everyone
else in Libria."
Barrett shook his head.
"Come on, lad; even you wouldn't…" He paused. "You would,
wouldn't you?" he said, somewhat sourly.
"What? Do everything in my power to keep my hard won EC-10 from
some greedy offenders? You bet your ass I would, sir."
"I've never picked up any emotions from DuPont, acolyte."
"No, well, you're not friends with him, are you, sir? Nobody
except me has picked up any trace of emotion from you, mainly because you're not dumb
enough to let your guard down around someone you don't feel you can
trust."
Barrett met his gaze squarely.
"And what makes you think I trust you,
Halls?"
Kevin shrugged.
"You don't let someone hold your life in their hands for as long as
I've held yours unless you either trust them or suffer from terminal
stupidity. And you don't strike me as the stupid type, sir...at
least, not that stupid,"
Kevin couldn't resist adding.
Barrett shook his head wryly.
"Do you have to insult me with every other breath?" he said, without
much anger in his tone. He'd come to terms quite early on with
the fact that there was no real malice in any of the acolyte's words.
"I don't have to, sir; I like to," Kevin said innocently.
There was a short pause.
"What time's your test?" Barrett said, changing the subject rather more
bluntly than usual. Kevin glanced at his watch and paled.
"Shit! I'm due in five minutes!" He whirled and started for
the exit.
"Kevin?"
"Sir?" Kevin turned, momentarily taken aback. It was the first
time Barrett had ever called him by his first name.
The Vice-Council eyed him steadily.
"You get sent down for processing, lad, and I'll bloody kill you."
Kevin grinned.
"Is that a promise, sir?"
"Just go, acolyte, before
they come looking for you!"
Kevin quirked an eyebrow.
"Concerned for my safety, sir?"
"Yes, lad. I am."
Kevin blinked, and Barrett knew that whatever the boy had been
expecting him to say, it hadn't been that.
"You're a pain in the arse, acolyte," he went on matter-of-factly, "and
sometimes I wonder why the bloody hell I worry so much about keeping
you alive, but somehow my life's a lot more interesting with you
around...not least because I'm never sure if you're going to take it
into your head to cut it short at any point."
"Sir." Kevin's grin broadened, although his tone was properly
respectful. Barrett shook his head wryly.
"How you can think of playing games at a time like this, I'll never
know," he said bluntly.
"No sir," Kevin said obligingly, and one hundred percent
truthfully. Nobody knew about his immunity and he planned to keep
it that way.
Barrett rolled his eyes.
"Enough! Go on with you, lad, before you get slapped on report!"
Kevin smirked in a way which said he doubted that would happen all the
time he was with Barrett, then turned and broke into a sprint, not
slowing his pace until he was outside the medical wing. Skidding
to a stop so suddenly he almost overbalanced, he paused to smooth his
hair, slow down his breathing and generally try to make it appear that
he hadn't been going full pelt for the last hundred metres or so,
before clicking open the door and walking in.
"You're late," Preston said coldly.
"I apologise, sir," Kevin lied. "Vice-Council Barrett was talking
to me and I lost track of the time."
Preston narrowed his eyes.
"You seem to be spending a remarkable amount of time with Vice-Council
Barrett, acolyte."
"Logical, sir," Kevin answered as he crossed the floor to the chair
that had been placed next to the polygraph. "He's my instructor,
and I was concerned about something that happened in class." Like one of my yearmates happening to
mention my blackmailing him.
Preston seemed to freeze for a minute, and Kevin hastily emptied his
mind. The Cleric was seemingly determined to find something to
arrest him for, and the acolyte didn't plan to make it easy for him.
"Sit down," Preston said eventually, curtly. Kevin obeyed as
slowly as he dared, not offering any resistance as the medic attached
the wires to him.
Okay. You can get
through this. Just keep calm and there's no way they can arrest
you.
By and large, this was the truth. Very few people could actually
flatline a polygraph—sinking into Gun-Kata was about the only way of
doing that—and a slightly rough line was more than permissible.
The time was five minutes. If the needle didn't react adversely
in all that time, you were cleared. If it did...well, then you had a whole
other problem to deal with, usually in the shape of various, heavily
armed Grammaton agents.
In the background, Kevin heard the medic talking to Preston.
"Are you going to witness the execution, sir?"
"Whose?" Preston asked. Kevin was also intrigued by this; last
he'd checked, there weren't any scheduled for another two days.
"Vice-Council Barrett's, sir."
Kevin's head snapped up as the four words shook him to the core.
There was no way he could have stopped it.
No...!
He had himself under control again almost instantly, but even that
wasn't quick enough to stop the polygraph needle jumping out of its
calm path.
Next to him, Partridge leaned down and clicked it off. They had
evidence now; there was no need to continue the test any further.
"Preston."
Kevin looked down at the damning spike, then up at Partridge and
cringed back in his seat.
Oh. Shit.
Chapter 5 
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