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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)
"I
assume
you have some improbable explanation for this?" Preston said, after a
long silence.
Kevin
didn't, or at least, not one that wouldn't get him arrested. His mind,
which had been racing a few minutes earlier, seemed to have suddenly
shut down.
"Answer
him!" Partridge said sharply, when it became apparent the acolyte
wasn't going to speak.
Kevin
moistened his lips.
"No
sir. No explanation."
This is it then. After twelve years ducking and diving,
avoiding even the Vice-Councils and most senior Clerics, I get picked
up by some freshmeat.
There
was another silence.
"Acolyte
Halls, I'm placing you under arrest for sense off-" Preston began, then
broke off suddenly.
"Is
there a problem here, Cleric?" someone said from the door.
Preston
glanced at the speaker, who remained out of Kevin's line of vision.
"No
sir. No problem."
"You're
certain?" Barrett stepped fully into the room and Kevin felt relief
flood him. He managed to get it more or less under control before
either Cleric suspected anything, but the feeling still stuck with him.
Who'd have thought I could actually be pleased to see this
guy? he thought wryly.
"I
want to discuss something with acolyte Halls," Barrett went on.
"Acolyte
Halls is under arrest for sense offence, sir," Preston answered
impassively.
"Evidence."
By
way of an answer, Preston nodded towards the polygraph and the readout.
Barrett glanced swiftly at it, then back at the Cleric.
"That's
not enough, Cleric."
"Sir?"
"One
spike? That may well have been an electrical surge. Next time, Cleric,
collect more substantial evidence."
"Substantial,
sir? My partner made a remark which caused an emotional reaction in the
acolyte."
Barrett
looked at Kevin.
"How's
your back, acolyte? Still painful, I expect."
"Uh...yes
sir. Very." Kevin wasn't sure where the Vice-Council was going with
this, but it couldn't hurt to play along. Barrett seemed to have a
plan, which was a frig of a lot more than he did.
The
Vice-Council returned his gaze to Preston.
"Pain
can have an adverse effect on polygraph tests. It's one reason the
evidence isn't usually viewed as conclusive."
"Sir,"
Preston said noncommittally.
"If
you want to arrest one of my students, I suggest you do so in the
correct manner."
Preston's
dark eyes seemed to bore holes in the older man.
"Sir,
if you'd seen-"
"Are
you questioning my authority, Cleric?" Barrett rapped out. Preston
dropped his gaze rapidly.
"No
sir. I apologise."
"Accepted.
Now, if it's all the same to you, I want to talk to this acolyte before
lights out."
Judging
from the silence, it wasn't all the same to the Cleric at all, but even
Preston didn't dare defy the authority of a member of the
Council...although he now looked as though he'd like nothing better
than to ram Barrett's authority right up his arse and force him to sit
on it, an attitude Kevin wasn't wholly unsympathetic to.
"Now, acolyte," Barrett said,
catching Kevin off guard. He got hastily to his feet, came to
attention, then preceded the Vice-Council out of the door.
For a
couple of moments, neither of them said anything.
"Sir..."
Kevin began, as it reached the point where he thought he'd have to say
something before his brain exploded.
"Yes,
acolyte?"
Kevin
wanted to thank him, but the words stuck in his throat and so he
settled for saying, "...Nothing."
"You
owe me, lad," Barrett said. Kevin raised his eyebrows. It was true, he
admitted, but he wasn't about to let the Vice-Council win that easily.
"I
didn't ask you to save me, sir."
Barrett
raised his eyebrows.
"Oh,
I'm sorry. Do you want me to take you back to Preston and tell him I've
changed my mind?"
Kevin
at least had the grace to drop his gaze.
"No
sir. Sorry sir."
They
walked on in silence for a few minutes.
"So
much for thinking Preston couldn't press your buttons," Barrett said
flatly. "What on earth did he say to you, lad?"
"Nothing
important, sir," Kevin lied. He couldn't face telling Barrett that the
thought of the Vice-Council's death had affected him quite so strongly.
Barrett
eyed him keenly for a few minutes, then decided not to press the issue.
"Alright,
acolyte. Here." He held out a small plastic card. Kevin took it and
studied it curiously.
"What's
this, sir?"
"A
pass for a late meal. I know damn well you won't have eaten since
lunch, and you need to keep your strength up. It's only emergency
rations, but it'll do the job."
Kevin
continued to study it for a little longer, then handed it back.
"I'm
alright, sir. After that incident with Preston, I don't think I really
want anything to eat."
"Did
I ask you if you wanted it?" Barrett said crisply.
"No
sir."
"Then
don't put words in my mouth."
"Sir,
I-" Kevin began, then caught sight of Barrett's look and broke off. "No
sir," he said instead.
"Good.
Go on before I change my mind."
Kevin
considered this, then shrugged, accepted the pass and made his way to
the canteen. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he knew better than to
say so. Besides, he could probably use the energy.
The
'emergency rations' tasted like soggy cardboard, but Kevin choked them
down anyway. Barring allergies, no Librian on the dose ever left food
on their plate. Personal tastes didn't come into it; you ate what was
nutritious.
Swallowing
the last ration (a kind of grey jelly that was almost concentrated
protein) Kevin got to his feet, leaving his tray for the cleanup team
to deal with, and returned to the dormitory. So far it had been a
pretty bad night, and he wanted to get what little sleep remained to
him. Maybe things would be better in the morning.
As he
started to lie down, a note on his mattress caught his attention and he
picked it up, scanning the contents.
Meet me in the gym
Barrett
A
slight feeling of worry constricted the acolyte's chest. Barrett
wouldn't have risked such a blatant form of communication unless it was
really urgent.
Kevin
glanced at the note again, then screwed it up and stuffed it into a
pocket. Wouldn't do for a certain nosy Cleric to get his greedy little
hands on it...although he supposed that even Preston would be
hard-pressed to find anything incriminating in those words.
The
acolyte glanced at his chronometer, then checked the corridor for
patrols. Nothing. Good.
Kevin
broke into a sprint, not stopping until he reached the gym and
practically slammed the doors open. Half stumbling in, he looked
around. The place was deserted.
"Sir?"
A
movement in the shadows warned him and he spun around, backing off
rapidly as someone emerged, holding a katana in one hand.
"Yeah,
I guess you could call me that," Andersen said, smirking.
Kevin
stared at him for a long minute, not fully understanding.
"Where's
Barrett?" he said at last.
Andersen
shrugged.
"How
the fuck should I know?
Probably at home doping himself up to the gills on Prozium."
"You wrote that note," Kevin guessed
suddenly. Andersen smirked.
"Yeah.
I knew you'd never agree to meet me if you knew it was me."
Kevin
raised his eyebrows.
"Very
perceptive of you." Sarcasm dripped off his every word. "So why did you
want to see me so badly?"
"Get
your practice blade."
Kevin
blinked.
"What?"
Andersen's
smirk broadened.
"You
didn't think it was going to be this easy, did you Halls?"
Kevin
raised his eyebrows.
"Think
what was going to be this easy?" He noticed the katana held loosely by
Andersen's right side and started towards the racks of weapons for his
own blade.
The
smirk widened to become a grin.
"You
didn't think I'd just roll over and let you take my place, did you?"
"I
don't want your bloody place," Kevin said flatly. "You want mine." He paused, his hand hovering
over his katana. "So...what? Is this some kind of duel?"
Andersen
laughed out loud.
"You
might say that."
"A
practice match?"
Andersen
half spun into a classic attack position and held it, still grinning.
"And
that old man seemed to think you were intelligent. If this was a
practice match, Halls, why would I have gone to such lengths to get you
here alone?"
"You're
fucking nuts," Kevin said disbelievingly.
"Am
I?" Andersen shrugged. "Maybe. But after your little stunt, I had to do
something to ensure my own safety before you decided to finger me like
you did that poor bastard Turner."
Kevin
felt an icy finger trail down his spine.
"Oh
yeah," Andersen added, thoroughly enjoying the younger acolyte's
discomfiture. "I know it was you, because the only other person besides
you who would have been able to do it is Jacobs, and why should he want
Turner dead?" He shrugged again. "I don't blame you, Halls. I'd have
done the same thing. But I want to stop you getting any cute ideas
about a repeat performance; I intend to stick around for a very, very
long time. It's a fair fight, isn't it?"
Kevin
spat.
"Don't
make me laugh. You don't even know the meaning of that word."
"Well,
there's only one way to find out, isn't there? You're on your own this
time, Halls. There's no convenient Vice-Council to save your ass."
Kevin
felt the fingers on his right hand slowly curling into a fist and
forced them open again with an immense effort.
"I
fight my own battles."
"Yeah?"
Andersen nodded towards the racks of weapons. "Prove it."
Kevin
hesitated.
"You
can warm up if you want," Andersen added, his drawl now seriously
starting to grate on Kevin's nerves. "There'd be no satisfaction in
killing you in the first five minutes."
"You
seem unnecessarily confident," Kevin said calmly. He was damned if he
was going to give Andersen the satisfaction of thinking he was afraid.
The
other acolyte stretched up onto the balls of his feet, then dropped
again.
"I
am. I've been here, warming up and working through routines for fifteen
minutes already."
Kevin
raised a mocking eyebrow.
"How
long've you been planning this?"
"For-"
Andersen consulted his chronometer "-about thirty minutes now. I had to
think of some way to remove you."
"Great.
So why didn't you just turn me over to the Clerics?" Kevin said acidly,
then bit his tongue. Hard. The way Andersen was acting at the moment,
he might just take the other acolyte at his word.
"Because
it didn't work."
"What?"
Momentarily startled, Kevin stared at the other acolyte. "What do you
mean?"
"Who
do you think told Preston and Partridge where to find you? Who pointed
out the regional similarities between Partridge and Barrett to them?"
Andersen shook his head. "I don't know how the fuck you managed to rig the
polygraph test, but that doesn't matter now. And I like this version
better anyway, since there's no risk you'll betray me under clinical
interrogation." He nodded towards Kevin's blade. "Pick it up."
Kevin
snorted.
"Or
what?"
Andersen
shrugged.
"Or
you'll die now. Given how blunt these katanas are, it'll probably hurt
like fuck, but I can't really say I care."
A
hard light glittered in Kevin's eyes. He wondered if Andersen knew that
his own practice blade was honed razor sharp. Probably not; he hadn't
even mentioned that little gem to Barrett, not least because the old
man would probably confiscate it.
"So
it's to the death?" he said pleasantly, his easy tone wiping the smirk
off the older acolyte's face like a damp cloth.
Andersen
shrugged again, covering up his momentary lapse with a speed and
naturalness that Kevin could only grudgingly admire.
"No
fucking point otherwise, Halls. You said yourself there's only room for
one sense offender in this year group."
Kevin
snorted.
"I
meant me."
"What
a coincidence." A thin smile appeared on Andersen's face. "So did I."
Kevin
continued to hesitate. He wasn't sure what to do now, but he was sure
of one thing; he did not want
Andersen's blood on his hands. Not so soon after Turner's death.
"What's
the matter?" Andersen sneered. "Scared?" He shook his head. "You need a
little more backbone, Halls. Courage and discipline, that's what made
me what I am."
"I'm
perfectly aware of what you are, Andersen," Kevin shot back mockingly,
not missing a beat.
There
was a tight silence.
"Pick
up your sword, Halls," Andersen said icily. "I will not ask you again."
Kevin
arched a mocking eyebrow.
"Was
there a session on melodrama that I missed while I was in the Nethers?"
he said, somehow managing to keep his voice level. If only he wasn't so
fucking tired! Thinking felt
like trying to wade through sand.
"Yes,
well, let's just talk about that, shall we?" Andersen said pleasantly.
Kevin
shifted his weight, suddenly edgy.
"What's
to talk about?"
"Those
injuries of yours, for one thing."
"I
don't have any injuries," Kevin said flatly. It wasn't a total lie; the
injuries themselves had healed, but Kevin had been informed that it
would be a long, long time before the scars faded, if they ever did at
all.
"You
did, though," Andersen said, moving across in front of him, pacing back
and forth with liquid grace.
Kevin
shrugged.
"I
had an accident."
"Some
accident. You know what the medic said?" Now Andersen was inching
closer, almost too imperceptibly for it to be noticed.
Pride
stung Kevin into replying.
"He
shouldn't have fucking said anything!"
"Oh,
I agree, but he did. You know
he's off the dose, don't you? It's really amazing how people are
willing to help you when you point out you happen to hold their
worthless little lives in your hands."
"Well,"
Kevin feigned disinterest, "what did your medic friend say?"
"Said
your back looked like raw fucking meat." Andersen flipped his katana
over in midair, catching it easily in one hand. "And I couldn't help
wondering what kind of, ah, accident
would leave you looking like that."
Kevin
shrugged.
"I
got in a fight with a rebel and the guy threw me through a window."
"Only
one?" Andersen smirked. "What, are you one of those delicate mortals or
something?" He shook his head. "You're not only a coward, Halls, you're
a fucking liar. You didn't get those scars from any fucking window."
"No?"
Kevin glanced down at his right hand, which was now firmly gripping the
handle of his katana and for the life of him couldn't recall when he'd
actually taken hold of it. "Alright. If you're so bloody smart, how did I get them?"
Andersen's
smirk widened slightly.
"I
don't know, but I can guess."
"Go
on then." Kevin lifted his blade and pulled it into position in front
of him. "Guess."
Andersen
swung his katana up and around, moving closer all the time.
"I
think you ran foul of some Resistance fighters. I think somehow they
got the better of you and that they did that to you."
Kevin
snorted.
"Yeah,
you'd love that, wouldn't
you, Andersen? Kevin Halls, undergoing some of the worst physical
tortures the human mind can devise." He shook his head, grinning.
"Sorry to disappoint you and shit, but you're off by miles. The group I
was with was attacked by Resistance fighters and while I was busy with
one of them, another snuck up and smashed me through the window, just
like I said."
Andersen
met Kevin's grin with one of his own that had far less humour in it.
"Right,
right. A window did all that to you."
"Bloody
right!" Kevin said fervently. "You get thrown through a window
sometimes and land on a shitload of broken glass, see how you look afterwards!"
"Indeed,"
Andersen said smoothly. His blade flashed up and over suddenly, and
Kevin only just managed to parry the blow. They disengaged, backing
away slightly. "And the hypothermia and mild frostbite in your left
hand?"
Kevin
shrugged.
"The
bastards blew up the truck and killed the sweepers. I was stranded in
the Nethers for a week before I managed to get back to Libria."
Andersen
smiled very slightly.
"I
don't believe you."
The
other acolyte shrugged again.
"Believe
what you want. I honestly don't give a fuck; I'm telling you the truth.
Now did you drag me here to talk or fight?"
"Me?"
Andersen raised his eyebrows. "I didn't drag you anywhere. But since you
ask-"
He
swung his katana around in a humming circle, but Kevin had expected it
and was already well out of range, racking his brains for all the
tactics he'd ever learned and wondering which would be any use to him.
"The
only important part of a fight is its outcome," Barrett had once told
them. "Everything that happens prior to that is just a formality."
Some formality, Kevin thought with
grim humour as he circled carefully, waiting for an opening.
"You're
dead, Halls," Andersen promised. He flourished his katana in an
impressive display. "Get the point?"
Kevin
tensed.
"I
was deliberately keeping my mouth shut just so you wouldn't use that
stupid joke," he informed the other acolyte flatly.
Andersen
smirked and continued to circle him. Something in that supremely
confident expression gave Kevin an idea and he paused, straightening up
and launching into his own display. It was an ill-timed, amateurish
move, one that would only be used by someone who thought the whole idea
was to look flash. Halfway through, Kevin fumbled the katana and felt
it start to slide from his grasp towards the floor. Seeing an opening,
Andersen plunged forward, his own blade whirling up and overarm towards
the younger acolyte's neck.
Metal
rang on metal and Andersen jerked back, the shock jolting his arms as
he stared in disbelief at Kevin's katana, which had miraculously seemed
to return to its owner's grasp. As the other acolyte recognised the
earlier feint for what it was, Kevin's foot lashed out and caught him
in the groin, then struck again to catch the other acolyte's face on
the way down as Andersen doubled over.
Andersen
backed off rapidly, his katana in the guard position. Kevin smirked as
he came to attention and saluted Andersen mockingly with his own blade.
Andersen
returned the salute as soon as he was able, eyes glinting dangerously.
As they continued to circle, Kevin registered and dismissed the
appearance of two Clerics in the same instant. Private matches between
acolytes weren't uncommon; they were a way to perfect the fighting arts
outside the normal training hours, and so long as neither got seriously
injured, the Council tended to turn a blind eye.
A
shift in Andersen's weight told him the other acolyte had seen the
patrol as well. Both backed off slightly, coming to the same mutual
agreement; if they were going to do this, it had to be done in secret.
Wait for the Clerics to leave, then they could go back to trying to
slice hell out of each other.
Sweat
broke out on Kevin's forehead. No real problem, so long as it didn't
drip into his eyes.
It
wasn't fair! Andersen had had
the advantage of roughly three months' additional training while Kevin
had been indisposed. You could pick up a lot in three months, and
Barrett hadn't even let him get back into training straightaway.
Seeing
nothing particularly untoward, the Clerics moved on, leaving the two
alone again.
"Why
don't you give up?" Andersen said suddenly.
Kevin's
eyebrows shot up.
"What?
And just stand there and let you kill me?"
Andersen
shrugged.
"I
could knock you out first. You'd never feel a thing, and it's a much
easier end than some of the alternatives." He set his jaw slightly.
"I've been told that burning in the city furnaces is a particularly
unpleasant way to die."
"Yeah?
Who by?"
There
was a silence as both continued to circle the other.
"Give
up," Andersen said again. "You know I can't follow you into the
dormitories; the security there's so fucking tight that you're
practically untouchable."
Kevin
snorted.
"So...what?
You want me to just turn and run back to my room?" He smirked. "Right.
And you'll let me get...how close? Ten metres? Five? Hey, maybe you'll
even let me put one foot in before you finish what you started here."
Kevin shook his head. "Go play in the Academy, Andersen. You might be
able to beat the sweepers at your little games. What's wrong? Scared
you're gonna lose after all your big talk?"
Andersen
flexed his fingers around the handle of his blade, eyes narrowed.
"Don't
say I didn't offer."
"I
won't," Kevin answered easily.
A
sarcastic smile flickered across Andersen's face before he moved in,
the set of his muscles telling Kevin that he meant to finish this once
and for all.
"Sure
you don't want to
quit, Andersen?" Kevin said, matching the acolyte step for step as he
backed off.
"Now
who's scared?" Andersen mocked, increasing his pace in an effort to
close the gap between them.
Kevin
let him get within range and then whirled, bringing his katana up
sharply as he completed the turn. There was a brief moment of
resistance, then Andersen's blade dropped uselessly to the ground along
with two of his fingers.
Andersen
went white, so white that his lips seemed to have a bluish tinge to
them. Kevin had to grudgingly admire the other acolyte's discipline;
even with what amounted to half his right hand lying on the practice
floor, Andersen still didn't make a sound.
Then,
as Kevin watched, he dropped to his knees and swayed there for a few
seconds before collapsing sideways onto the floor into his own blood.
For a
moment Kevin was honestly afraid that he'd killed him-while he'd been
prepared to hurt Andersen if necessary, he really hadn't planned for
having a dead body on his hands-then he saw the almost imperceptible
rise and fall of the other's ribs and sagged in relief. Not dead; just
unconscious. It was one thing to turn someone over to the Palace of
Justice and let the technicians deal with them, and quite another to
have their blood on your own hands.
Speaking of blood...
Kevin
glanced around, then stepped cautiously up to Andersen and kicked the
katana out of reach, then backed off rapidly in case the other acolyte
was faking.
Andersen
didn't move, didn't react. Kevin still wasn't one hundred percent
convinced. Bending down, he gripped the other boy's hand and twisted it
round in a goose lock. The pain involved was excruciating, and anyone
faking unconsciousness would soon betray themselves.
Nothing.
Satisfied, Kevin crouched down again and wiped his blade on Andersen's
sweater.
"Not
even close, pal," he drawled. Andersen didn't react in any way, and
Kevin suddenly felt dirty, ashamed. He'd won. That was enough. There
was no reason for him to take active pleasure in what he'd done.
"Sorry,"
he told Andersen's recumbent form, awkwardly but sincerely, and crossed
the room to fetch polish for his and the other acolyte's blades, then
cleaned them until he was satisfied that no trace of either him or
Andersen remained on either. There was blood on the floor, but that was
alright; it wasn't his and it couldn't tie him into any of this.
He
hesitated, then dropped Andersen's blade next to the other acolyte. It
seemed like the right thing to do, if not the smartest.
Besides,
it would probably bug the shit
out of whoever got landed with investigating this incident.
One maimed acolyte and no blood anywhere except on the
floor. Let them try and figure that out if they can.
All
that aside, Kevin really hoped it wouldn't be Preston they assigned to
this one. That Cleric had been getting a little too curious about him
lately. If Kevin was lucky, Preston would be assigned somewhere
else...maybe the Nethers. And if the acolyte was really lucky, Preston would get
careless and wind up as just another Grammaton casualty.
He
took a quick look around before leaving. As far as he could see,
everything was alright.
Yeah, right. So far you've been entrapped, arrested and
almost murdered. What's next? You going to pay the Nethers another
visit?
Kevin
shivered, not just from the cold. It really had been a very, very bad night.
Barrett faced the classroom. Last night hadn't been particularly good
for him either; he'd been dragged out of bed at just after two am by a
phone call from the Clerics on patrol duty informing him that one of
his students was lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood, and he
hadn't got any sleep since.
"Does
anyone know anything about what may have happened to acolyte Andersen?"
he said, as calmly as he could.
Kevin,
rightly understanding that the question was addressed more to him than
the rest of the class, promptly pasted a look of Prozium-dulled
confusion on his face and kept his mouth shut.
"No
one?" Barrett looked pointedly at Kevin, who matched his gaze
unblushingly.
"Has
nobody asked Andersen himself?" he said.
"Andersen
is still unconscious. The medic believes he was lying there for at
least three hours before being found. He lost a lot of blood in that
time."
Kevin's
eyes glazed slightly behind his shades. Let's see...I got to the gym at just gone
eleven...yup, three hours sounds about right.
"But
he will make a full recovery-"
Bugger!
"-and
the Council want this matter resolved as quickly as possible. For that
reason, normal lessons this morning have been cancelled in favour of a
series of interviews. Since ninety seven percent of such attacks are
perpetrated by other acolytes in the same year, the Council believe
that the attacker is somewhere in this room." Barrett paused. "Any
questions?" He paused again, then sighed. "Yes, acolyte?"
Kevin
lowered his hand.
"What're
you gonna do if the attacker is one of those rare people in the other
three percent, sir?" he asked.
"That
is not your concern, acolyte. Any more questions? Halls, what is it
now?"
"What're
we supposed to do while you're interviewing people, sir?"
"Will
wonders never cease?" Barrett said calmly. "For once, an intelligent
question from you, acolyte. Study pages 367 through 412 in your
textbooks and summarise the contents. I want it finished by the end of
the morning."
There
was a rustle as several books were opened and flipped through. Barrett
stood.
"Halls,
you first."
Kevin
blinked-he'd expected the Vice-Council to work his way through the
class alphabetically-then pushed back his chair and stood obediently,
following Barrett out of the class and into the man's own private study.
Barrett
physically pushed Kevin into a seat and took one on the opposite side
of the desk, then fixed the acolyte with his best stare.
"Where
were you last night?"
"Studying
that text you gave me, sir." It wasn't quite a lie, after all.
"All last night?"
"Sir."
Barrett
eyed him.
"Was
that a 'yes sir' or a 'no sir'?"
"Sir,"
Kevin said again, a slight gleam in his eye.
"It
was you, wasn't it?"
"Me
what, sir?"
"It
was you who attacked Andersen."
"No
sir," Kevin said unblushingly.
"Then
where did you get that scratch on your face, acolyte?"
Kevin's
hand shot up before he could stop it, then he glowered at Barrett,
recognising the trap for what it was.
"Very
funny, sir."
"You
haven't answered my question."
"Haven't
I? Alright then, sir." Kevin cleared his throat. "'What scratch'?"
Barrett
hesitated, then shook his head.
"Sometimes
I wonder about your sanity, lad."
Kevin
grinned.
"Not
half as much as I do, sir." When Barrett didn't return the smile, Kevin
sighed. "If I told you Andersen lured me to the dojo in an attempt to
kill me, would that make things alright again? Where is that dickhead,
anyway?"
"In
hospital, lad. Where do you usually go when you've had two fingers
chopped off? The medic's trying to organise prosthetic ones for him; he
should be back soon."
"Damn."
"Let
me ask you again, acolyte. Was it you who sliced that poor boy's
fingers off?"
"Poor
boy? Sir, if I hadn't done something you'd be interrogating people on a
murder charge right about now. I could have killed Andersen. I didn't."
"No,"
Barrett countered, "you just made sure he won't be doing any Gun-Kata,
training or even the most basic homework assignments for at least the
next six weeks."
Kevin
shrugged.
"And
is that really a bad thing, sir? Given he said at least three times
during that fight that the only reason for it was to get me out of the
way."
"He'll
get behind in his studies."
"I
got behind on mine, sir, but
I managed. If Andersen's determined, he'll catch up. If he's not, he'll
die in the next exams." Kevin paused. "Speaking of exams, sir, did you
get my request?"
Barrett
eyed him sourly.
"Yes.
You want to switch from the extra credit module in medical science to
the one in CI."
"Yes
sir."
Barrett
shook his head.
"No
way, lad. Not in a million years."
"Why
not, sir?"
"Because
you might have to do clinical interrogation as an acolyte and maybe
even a junior Cleric, but I'm damned if I'm going to let you start to
fucking enjoy it, Halls!"
Kevin
recoiled as if he'd been slapped.
"I
didn't say I enjoyed it, sir."
"No.
But you don't want to do it because you're struggling with your current
extra credit module. You want to do it because you hate the Resistance
and you want a valid reason to not only cripple it-and probably its
members-but to get acclaim for doing so. I can't force you into this
war, lad, but I'm not going to stand back and let you torture to death
someone whose only crime is being what you are."
"Torture
to death, sir?" Kevin snorted. "Unlikely. You know full well we lose
marks if the subject dies before the allotted time."
"I
said no, acolyte, and I mean it! You're not doing any extra CI work and
if I so much as hear of you trying this on with another Vice-Council,
I'll have you working with simulations right up until you graduate! Do
I make myself clear?"
"Crystal,
sir," Kevin said coldly. He'd been prepared for an argument about this,
but the vehemence of Barrett's refusal had taken him completely by
surprise.
"Good.
Whatever you may think of the Resistance, they don't deserve that, as you'd no doubt agree if
you'd ever been subjected to clinical interrogation yourself! Now-"
"I have, sir."
The
remark stopped Barrett's tirade mid-flow, leaving an awkward silence to
fill the gap.
"I
didn't know that, lad," Barrett said very quietly at the end of it.
Kevin
shrugged.
"Not
many people do, sir. It was a few years ago."
"Was
it about the Resistance?"
"Sorta.
The technicians wanted to know various things. When I told them I had
no idea, they got a little upset. I don't think they fully believed me,
to tell you the truth."
Well,
Barrett thought, at least that went a long way towards explaining the
lad's feelings about the Resistance. If he'd been clinically interrogated
because of it, Barrett supposed he wouldn't be too keen on them either.
"The
Resistance fighters are constantly looking for ways to make this world
a better and safer place," he pointed out.
"Have
they considered mass seppuku?" Kevin said flatly.
Barrett
shook his head.
"Why
do you hate them so much? I don't believe it was because of one little
incident, so what really happened, acolyte?"
Kevin
shrugged.
"I
thought about joining at one point. I even met with a group in the
Nethers. It was fucking useless. They don't see me, sir; all they see is a weapon.
Their very own pet agent."
"How
do you think the Tetra Grammaton see you?" Barrett answered, not
missing a beat.
"Oh,
I'm not under any illusion on that score, sir. I know they see me in
pretty much the same way. But with them, at least I have the right to
do it. It's as safe as something like this can be. So far all the
Resistance has offered me is the chance to do exactly the same thing,
only with a life of constant hiding, terror and potential agony thrown
in if the Tetra Grammaton suspect something." Kevin shook his head.
"Sorry sir. You're gonna have to do better than that."
Barrett
smiled slightly, the expression sending an unaccountable chill down the
acolyte's spine.
"Maybe
I will at that. Alright, acolyte, you're dismissed. Next time a
practice match gets out of hand and you lose your concentration, drop
your weapon until you have yourself under control. I don't want to see
anything like this again."
"Oh,
I shouldn't worry about that," Kevin said, the faintest of smirks on
his face. "See you around, old man."
He
turned on his heel and strode away, closing the door behind him before
the stunned Vice-Council had a chance to reply.
After
a couple of minutes, Barrett made sure that the camera was turned off
before giving way to a broad grin, which in turn became a chuckle. He
shook his head. Old man? The gall
of that kid! Fair enough, he was no spring chicken, but still...!
Still
grinning, he gathered the files together and stood. He had his
confession; there was no need for any more interrogations. And he'd
have to do something about Kevin; the kid was far too entertaining to
let him die now. If only he could get over this strange antipathy the
boy seemed to have for the Resistance...
He
paused to compose his features into something resembling impassiveness.
It took him a little longer to calm his thoughts; inwardly he was still
laughing. Wouldn't do to have a passing Cleric pick up on that.
Speaking
of Clerics, he'd better hurry; any longer and the acolytes would
probably start wondering where he'd got to.
The
germ of an idea presented itself, and Barrett considered it briefly
before nodding. Yes. That could work.
He
stepped outside with a shake of his head. Old man indeed...!
Chapter
6 
