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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)
1. Describe, using diagrams where appropriate, the
correct usage of heat and electricity in the primary stage of Clinical
Interrogation.
In other
words, how to fry some poor guy's nuts because he didn't want you to do
the same to his friend, Kevin thought with grim humour and closed
his eyes, trying to remember. Barrett might have prevented him
switching to extra credit CI, but the medical studies and anatomy he
was doing instead provided the means for a much more original form of
questioning.
They were
halfway through the summer exams. Earlier that morning had been the CI
practical exam, and Kevin had been worried sick that Barrett had made
good on his threat to get him demoted to simulations again; that kind
of attention was all he needed right now.
Still, for
all his fears, he'd had a real subject. That had been the good part of
the exam. The bad part was that Barrett had been one of the
examiners and for Kevin, that had taken a hell of a lot of the fun out
of it. He'd botched it in the end; the scalpel he'd been using had
jerked sideways and punctured the man's stomach, although despite that
he hadn't done too badly.
Kevin
lowered the book, giving up on revision for the minute, and looked
around the room he and Jacobs had been moved into two weeks ago.
Acolytes did not usually leave the common dormitories for more private
rooms until they were sixteen, but the Council had decided that since
there were only him and Jacobs in that particular year, it would be
more efficient to move them into one of the smaller rooms to free up
the dormitory for those acolytes coming up behind them.
Kevin
snorted. They were welcome to it as far as he was concerned; this place
was a lot more comfortable. At least they had actual beds now,
instead of bare mattresses.
He glanced
back at the text, then snapped it shut irritably and reached for a
history book instead. Maybe he'd have more success with that.
He'd barely
been studying for more than ten minutes before a shadow fell across the
page.
"Do you
think you could move, sir?" Kevin said without looking up. "You're in
my light."
There was a
strained silence.
"Is that all
you have to say to me?" Barrett said at the end of it.
"Yep."
"Halls..."
"Did you
actually come for anything important, sir? If not, your interest in me
is undoubtedly going to generate a lot more interest in both of us, so
I'm sure you won't take it amiss if I ask you what the bloody hell you
want now."
"You know
what I want."
"If you're
just gonna bitch about my CI, you can save it," Kevin drawled. "I've
got another seven exams to study for."
"You could
have made it quicker for that man."
"I thought I
did." Kevin looked up from his book. When had that second war
started...?
"Choking to
death in your own blood is not a pleasant way to go, Halls!"
"You've done
it, have you, sir?" Kevin said, making a note in the margin. Nineteen
thirty nine, that was it. Ended nineteen forty five.
"If you were
going to puncture anything, why didn't you go for the heart?"
"I did,"
Kevin lied.
Barrett
paused just long enough to glower at him.
"Contrary to
a popular pre-Librian conception, Halls, the quickest and most
efficient route to a man's heart is not through his stomach!"
"Indeed."
There was a
silence.
"I'm
demoting you to simulations," Barrett said flatly.
Kevin jerked.
"You're
bloody not, old man!" he said, the words out of his mouth before he had
a chance to stop them.
"No? Why
not?"
Kevin forced
himself to remain calm.
"What grade
did I get for practical CI?"
"Eighty four
percent." Now Barrett sounded thoroughly disgusted. Kevin grinned,
elated.
"Ha! Oh
yeah!"
"And believe
me, I knocked it down as much as I dared."
"So you'll
knock off marks for me but no one else?" Kevin drawled. "Nice. Very
fair, sir. Very Librian. What did Andersen get?"
"I hardly
think that concerns you, Halls. You'll know soon enough."
"Did I beat
him? C'mon, at least tell me if I beat him."
Barrett's
right hand curled into a fist and he opened it again with a supreme
effort. Kevin glanced at it.
"Are you
going to hit me, sir?"
"Don't tempt
me, acolyte."
"I didn't
think I was, sir." Kevin placed a hand over the passage he was studying
and closed his eyes, trying to remember. Something about an
assassination...an assassination of an important person. Trouble was,
that didn't exactly narrow it down. "Anyway, simulations are usually
only brought in for particularly incompetent students. If I got a mark
like eighty four percent, you're gonna have a hard job convincing the
Council that I don't know what I'm doing."
Barrett
shook his head.
"Don't you
feel anything about what you did, lad?"
"Do my best
not to, sir, particularly in a place like this. Would you prefer me to
be sobbing my eyes out on my bed, consumed by my own guilt?"
"Well, it
would be a start!"
Kevin
slammed his book shut and glared at the Vice-Council.
"If you
think for one minute I regretted the death of that Resistance jerk-"
"Who did nothing
to you to warrant such cold-blooded treatment!"
"-then
you're mistaken!" Kevin said loudly, overriding him. "Besides, he was
so doped up I doubt he'd have felt anything if I'd sawed through his
dick. You know we don't have to do it for real until I'm sixteen, and
even then he doesn't have to say anything unless I'm doing extra credit
CI." Kevin paused. "And we both know I'm not doing that,"
he couldn't resist adding bitterly.
"Damn right
you're not," Barrett answered steadily, refusing to be drawn. "I'm not
about to become a party to whatever sick reasons you have for wanting
to switch to that subject. You do the bare minimum because you have to
and there's nothing I can do about that, but like I said I'll be damned
if I let you start to enjoy it!"
Kevin shook
his head.
"C'mon, do
you really think that I'd have prolonged that CI if I didn't have to?"
Barrett
stared at him coldly.
"I know
bloody well you would have, acolyte." Kevin was starting to see a
definite pattern emerging here; being called lad was good, being called
acolyte or Halls was not. "Because you don't bother thinking about how
those subjects are people, do you? So long as you're safe,
that's all that matters."
"Let me make
sure I've got this straight, sir," Kevin said icily. "This
morning I had my practical CI exam, with not only you but three other
senior members of the Council, along with the regulation four Clerics
and ten sweepers for security, and you expected me to stand up and
admit to being a sense offender? Shit, if all offenders are like you, I
think my hatred of the Resistance suddenly got a lot more justified."
"If it ever
was to begin with," Barrett said flatly. Kevin snorted.
"Ohh, it
was. Trust me on that one." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to let
me get on with my revision now, sir? Only if I don't pass enough units,
I'll have to repeat the whole bloody year, and that's not
something I'm looking forward to."
Barrett
glanced at the textbook.
"What are
you revising now?"
"Pre-Librian
history, sir. If you're not going to go away, can you at least test me?"
Barrett shot
him a look that said he wasn't sure whether or not to call Halls to
task, then sighed.
"Alright.
Give me your book." He paged through the text, stopping about a third
of the way through. "Who was the forty seventh president of the
pre-Librian country known as the US?"
Kevin racked
his brains frantically. President...that was the pre-Librian equivalent
of Father, wasn't it? He frowned, straining his brain for the answer.
He could only remember two US presidents, and he was pretty sure George
Washington wasn't the answer Barrett was looking for and so he went for
the other.
"Abraham
Lincoln?"
Barrett shot
him a look.
"Not even close,
and for your sake I hope you were joking!"
Kevin rolled
his eyes.
"Okay, fine,
so I'm not as well up on that part! It probably won't come up on the
paper though, and anyway, it's only one question." He paused. "But just
in case, who was the forty seventh president of the US?"
"No one.
They reached number forty three and then the Last War began."
Kevin
groaned.
"Oh c'mon,
sir, play fair! How was I supposed to know that?"
"Well, for
one thing if you'd studied-" Barrett began before Kevin snatched the
book back with an ill grace.
"Yeah, yeah,
alright, point taken. So I missed that section. What's US mean, anyway?"
"United...uh...something,"
Barrett said, somewhat vaguely. He'd often wondered about that himself.
"Most countries were called United this or United that; it seemed to be
the fashion back then."
Kevin
frowned.
"So who came
up with the name Libria?"
"You ask too
many questions, lad," Barrett said evasively.
"You don't
know, you mean."
The
Vice-Council stared hard at him.
"Would you
like to repeat that?"
Ordinarily
Kevin would have been more than happy to, except that he was pretty
sure if he did so on this occasion, he'd never get rid of the old man,
and he wanted to get some serious revision in before turning in.
"I would but
I won't," he said, straight-faced.
Barrett
favoured him with a sharp look. There were times when he really wasn't
sure whether or not the acolyte was laughing at him or with him.
"Just out of
interest though, why'd you really come?" Kevin said, already buried in
the text again.
"I told you,
your CI exam-"
"Oh, that."
Kevin dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "You've said your piece on
that, sir, and you're still here. So what's up now?"
The
Vice-Council raised his eyebrows.
"More
guessing games, lad?"
Kevin
shrugged and didn't answer.
"Alright.
Here." Glancing around, Barrett reached into his coat and passed him a
book. Kevin took it automatically and glanced at the cover.
"The
Ladykiller? Isn't that the one I saw in your place, sir?"
"You must be
mistaken, acolyte," Barrett said pointedly. Kevin snorted.
"Puh-leeze.
Like we can be seen or overheard here. You wouldn't give me an
illegal book if there was the slightest chance it could land you in
trouble. What's so special about this one anyway?"
"There's a
character in it that I think you may...ah...identify with."
Kevin raised
his eyebrows-he really didn't like that gleam in the Vice-Council's
eyes-then shrugged and stuffed the book down the side of his mattress.
It would have to be moved and soon, but he thought it could stay there
for the night. Jacobs had watch duty from one am onwards, and Kevin
knew the patrols wouldn't look in on their room at that time unless it
was obvious he was doing something suspicious.
"I'll give
it a try, sir. Thanks." He paused. "Wait...this isn't some kind of
elaborate scheme to set me up and send the Clerics in just as soon as I
start reading, is it?"
Barrett
raised an eyebrow.
"What would
I have to gain from your death, lad?"
"Same thing
I'd have to gain from yours, old man. Added security."
There was no
real arguing with that, Barrett supposed. Aloud he said, "Alright then,
so I'd be safer with you out the way. That's not enough reason for me
to kill you, acolyte."
"It's not,
sir?"
"No,"
Barrett said sharply, "it's not!" He paused. "Anyway, aren't you
forgetting something? As a member of the Council, I can report you any
time I want. I don't need to resort to cheap tricks like the one you're
implying."
Kevin
considered this, then shrugged.
"Fair point,
sir. If I get arrested sometime in the small hours and one of the
sweepers or Clerics happens to say something along the lines of 'looks
like Barrett was right', I'll know I was wrong to trust you."
Barrett
rolled his eyes.
"Let's deal
with that if and when it happens, lad. Enjoy the book; I'll see you
tomorrow for the exams."
He turned
and walked out, making little or no sound as he moved. Kevin watched
him go, then glanced in the direction of the book. Tempting...
He shook his
head and reached for the history text. Plenty of time for R&R
later. Get through the exams first, then maybe he could try this new
EC-10...
When Kevin
arrived the next morning, DuPont was alone on the examining panel.
"Good
morning, acolyte."
"Morning,
sir," Kevin answered automatically, then, because last night had been a
bad one even by his standards, said something incredibly stupid.
"Where's the old man?"
DuPont's
eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"I assume
you mean Vice-Council Barrett, acolyte?"
Kevin froze
for a few seconds.
"Yes sir,"
he managed at last, with a supreme effort. His throat seemed to have
become suddenly paralysed with nerves.
"Rather an
informal style of query, Halls."
Kevin
swallowed.
"Sir."
"Does
Vice-Council Barrett himself know of your lack of respect, acolyte?"
The thought
struck Kevin that the man would have to be blind, deaf and pretty
bloody stupid on top of that not to know, but he bit it back
and settled for saying, "Sir."
"Was that a
yes sir or a no sir, Halls?"
"Neither,
sir," Kevin answered before he could stop himself, and wished there was
a way to stop his mouth blurting out whatever his brain was thinking.
"Are you
playing with me, acolyte?" DuPont said frigidly.
"Playing
with you, sir?" Kevin said as innocently as he could. "I'm sorry, I
don't fully understand."
The look on
DuPont's face said he sincerely doubted that, and Kevin steeled himself
not to break the cold silence that had descended.
"I asked you
a simple question, acolyte," the Vice-Council said. "Is Barrett aware
of your lack of respect for him?"
Kevin tried
to swallow again in a suddenly dry throat.
"I don't
believe so, sir, no."
"In that
case, you may rest assured I will inform him of it myself." DuPont
settled back and picked up his clipboard, nodded towards the centre of
the floor. "You may begin, acolyte."
Kevin
blinked.
"Sorry, sir?"
"The exam,
Halls. That is why you're here, after all, or did you fail to
understand that as well?"
"Sir...this
is a test of Gun-Kata, isn't it?"
"Yes,
acolyte."
"So
shouldn't I have a partner, sir?" Kevin dared to ask, and kicked
himself for doing so as soon as he caught sight of the expression on
DuPont's face.
"Did you
think to bring one, acolyte?"
You know
damn well I didn't, you bastard, Kevin thought furiously while his
mouth said, "No sir."
DuPont
raised his eyebrows.
"Very well.
I had Andersen up to do a few little jobs for me. You can pair off with
him."
Andersen?
Kevin suppressed a groan. Somebody up there must really fucking
hate me.
He caught
the rapid look that flashed between DuPont and the acolyte and gritted
his teeth. The odds had just gotten a lot higher than he liked to play
them.
"I didn't
think your injury would let you compete," he said to Andersen, as he
began to warm up.
A look of
utter hatred flashed across Andersen's face, one which DuPont
studiously ignored, proving Kevin right.
Great. So I have some guy who'll be either dead or
retired in a few years, and Andersen manages to secure the protection
of one of the youngest members on the Council.
"My injury
is none of your business, Halls," Andersen said frostily.
"No?" Kevin
almost smirked, caught it just in time. "I wouldn't want to have an
unfair advantage in this bout, Andersen."
Andersen
flashed him a rapid grin, one which DuPont calmly ignored and which
caused Kevin to wonder uneasily for the first time about the other
acolyte's sanity.
"Don't
worry, Halls. You won't."
He raised
his weapons and Kevin barely managed to dodge out of the way as the
other acolyte's bullets chewed through the wall. He stared at the
holes, then looked up into Andersen's smug expression.
Holy
shit, he's using combat ammo!
The
Monastery usually used a special kind of ammunition for exams, one
which wouldn't do any serious damage unless it hit somewhere in the
torso or face. It was generally held that any acolyte incompetent
enough to get shot in either of those areas deserved to die. Full
combat ammunition was only ever used in the final two years.
Kevin
flicked his gaze briefly to DuPont and saw the expectant expression on
that man's face. He just had enough time to wonder what he'd done to
piss the Vice-Council off this much before Andersen opened fire again.
Kevin
snapped his own guns out into his hands and tensed, waiting.
This
isn't an exam. The thought appeared in his head out of nowhere. It's
a fucking execution.
For a
minute, the pair of them stood, staring at each other. Gun-Kata usually
took this form, particularly between two agents; long periods of still
or slow movements followed by brief spates of almost frenzied combat.
They waited,
each measuring up the other, seeking for some near-invisible chink in
their opponent's armour. Neither moved until DuPont, obviously bored,
cleared his throat pointedly.
Andersen
made the mistake of looking in the Vice-Council's direction, and Kevin
lunged for him, spinning one gun over and bringing it down on the
acolyte's head, hard. Andersen dropped to his knees, not unconscious
but dazed, and Kevin clicked the prongs out of the base of his gun,
arcing it towards him.
"Halls!"
Kevin froze,
the spikes a bare inch away from Andersen's throat, and the other
acolyte took the opportunity to scramble back, out of reach.
"Most
impressive, acolyte," DuPont said in desert tones.
Kevin
straightened, slid the prongs inside again and saluted.
"Thank you
sir."
"Request a
rematch, sir," Andersen said, scowling. Kevin raised a languid eyebrow.
"You know,
Andersen, green really isn't your colour."
"Request
denied, acolyte," DuPont said impassively. "Dismissed, both of you."
Andersen
gave Kevin a look which said this wasn't over by a long shot, then
whirled and stalked off. After a few minutes, DuPont looked up from his
paper.
"Is there
any reason you're still here, Halls?"
"Yes sir. I
request authority to take Andersen for a Prozium test."
There was a
long silence. Then, "Denied," DuPont said again. "I don't believe
there's any chance of Andersen being off the dose."
"Even after
his display of facial expressions and several illicit vocal cadences?"
Kevin said in a rush.
"Vocal
cadences?" Now DuPont seemed to be languidly amused. "And what would
these cadences indicate to you, acolyte?"
Kevin
shrugged.
"Hate, sir.
Anger."
"Which would
explain the failing grade you achieved in Emotional Recognition," the
Vice-Council said coolly. "I said dismissed."
Kevin was
sorely tempted to argue, but one look at the Vice-Council's face
convinced him otherwise and he turned on his heel and strode away,
heading back to his room.
He'd got
about halfway there when someone grabbed him and yanked him roughly
into an empty classroom. It came as no great surprise to Kevin that it
was Andersen.
"Well?" he
said, striving for a note of boredom, breaking the other acolyte's hold
on him and brushing his shoulder as though flicking off a spider. "What
do you want now?"
"What do you
think?"
"I think
that I'm sick of seeing your face whenever I turn around." Kevin pulled
out his gun and pointed it at the other acolyte, snapping the safety
off. Andersen curled his lip.
"D'you
expect me to believe that thing's loaded?"
Without
taking his eyes off him, Kevin raised the weapon and shot an overhead
bulb, causing it to explode in a shower of sparks, then returned it to
pointing at Andersen's face. The other acolyte held his gaze squarely,
unwilling to back down. Eventually Kevin clicked the safety back on and
lowered his gun with a sigh.
"Get out of
here, Andersen. Go back on the dose or run into the Nethers or
something. I'm tired of playing these little games with you."
"Games?"
Andersen echoed furiously, then winced and lowered his voice, mindful
of the patrols. He held out his right hand and flexed the prosthetic
fingers. "You call this a game, Halls?"
Kevin stared
at the appendages and couldn't find any words to answer.
"If you want
to kill me, you'd better do it quickly," Andersen added. "I signed up
for the early shift tonight. I'm already ten minutes late and I imagine
they're already looking for me. You can't win a fight against me and
hide the body before they find it, not in so short a time. Even old
Barrett couldn't get you out of that."
Kevin
snorted.
"For fuck's
sake, Andersen; I don't want to kill you! I never did! You're the one
who challenged me to that duel, you're the one who tried to get me
dropped in the shit with Preston, you're the one who set me up with the
medic!" He tilted his head on one side. "You know, I'm starting to
worry that you don't like me, and these little squabbles are starting
to get real old real fast."
Andersen
lunged, catching Kevin off guard. Before he had a chance to recover,
Andersen yanked the dark glasses off and slammed them onto the ground,
grinding his heel over there maliciously.
There was a
long, drawn out silence. Kevin, who had shut his eyes the instant he
understood what Andersen was about to do, snapped both guns into his
hands again and listened, straining his ears. Grammaton agents were
trained right from the beginning to operate without using their eyes;
the Resistance seemed to have a fondness for dark rooms.
He heard
Andersen move and turned his body slightly to face the direction.
Reflexes brought both hands up in a standard cross block, and Kevin was
only slightly less surprised than Andersen that it actually worked.
The quick steps of the other acolyte warned him, and he
twisted to one side as Andersen's foot flashed past him with
devastating force.
Kata 39.
The thought
arrived in his head from nowhere and he seized it with both hands. If
all Andersen was doing was working through the kata, then Kevin might
just be able to get out of this with his life.
Punch, kick...chop to throat.
Hoping like
hell he wasn't mistaken, Kevin brought one hand up and felt it slap
against Andersen's wrist. Seizing it as hard as he could, he bent it
around, putting all his strength into it and felt the bones grind, then
kicked out hard, striking Andersen's groin more by luck than judgment.
"See, that's
the problem with working your way through the katas by rote," he
drawled. "If you're gonna do it, you should at least throw in a little
variation."
"It works
fine on offenders," Andersen grated.
"Yeah."
Kevin snapped out both guns, wondering as he did so why the hell he'd
bothered to put them away in the first place. "That's 'cause most
offenders don't know kata from calisthenics." He smiled. "Ready to lose
the rest of your fingers, Andersen?"
Even through
closed lids, he could see the other acolyte's sneer.
"Don't be
absurd, Halls. Even you can't aim that well just from my voice."
"True,"
Kevin agreed, smirking, and lowered one of his guns slightly. "I could
hit you anywhere," he added pointedly.
Andersen
shifted slightly. There was something about Halls' smile that made him
very uneasy. It might just have been the strangeness of seeing him
without his dark glasses, but Andersen had an unnerving feeling that it
was far more than that, and the little fact that one gun was now
pointing at his groin didn't do much for his peace of mind either.
Kevin's
smile broadened into a grin. It was a trick he'd picked up purely by
chance; when the odds are against you or whenever someone thinks they
have the upper hand, smile. By and large, the only people who did so in
such a situation were either insane or sitting on the mother of all
secret weapons, and either way it'd scare the shit out of your opponent.
"Halls?"
Andersen said apprehensively. "Look, Halls, maybe we, uh, just got a
little carried away."
Kevin's
eyebrows arched deprecatingly.
"What do you
mean, we?"
"You're the
one threatening to shoot his yearmate in the dick!" Andersen flared,
momentarily forgetting himself.
"Oh, is that
what I'm aiming at? I thought it was your kneecap." Kevin moved his
other gun down. "How's this?"
"A little
more to the left," Andersen said before he could stop himself, then
slammed a hand into his forehead. Instinctive cooperation in
gunfights-one of the key parts of the Monastery curriculum-was all very
well, but it did have its drawbacks, and he was starting to bitterly
regret provoking Halls. Most sense offending acolytes were usually too
bewildered by the initial emotional onslaught to react to him, and the
ones that weren't had their hands full trying to survive without
subjecting themselves to any more guilt than they had to. Something
about Halls suggested that he might almost enjoy crippling Andersen.
"Get one
thing straight, Andersen," Kevin said flatly, "the game's over. I'm not
going to play anymore."
Andersen
shook his head.
"Fucking
right it's over, Halls. It ends tonight."
Kevin
groaned aloud.
"How long
have you been waiting to use that line?"
"What?"
Momentarily confused, Andersen hesitated just long enough for Kevin to
step forward and crack his other gun down where he thought Andersen's
head was. He missed by about six inches, hitting the acolyte's
collarbone instead, but the sound of bone crunching was unmistakable.
Andersen
dropped to the ground, aiming a punch at Kevin's leg with his one good
arm as he went, but the other acolyte was already out of range and
feeling around for his dark glasses. Given how suspicious DuPont
already seemed to be, it probably wasn't a good idea to hang around
after injuring the Vice-Council's favourite acolyte, and Kevin planned
to get the hell out of there before someone came along.
His questing
hand found his shades and he lifted them up, feeling around. To his
surprise, they didn't seem to be badly damaged. The lenses were both
cracked in several places, but he thought they'd probably be enough to
get him back to his room. Kevin slipped them on and opened his eyes
again. They'd have to do.
He glanced
down just long enough to make sure Andersen wasn't in any fit shape to
follow him, then turned and sprinted towards the relative safety of his
room, not stopping until he'd slammed the door shut and leaned against
it.
No sound of
pursuit. Not that there would be, Kevin supposed; Andersen wasn't
permitted into the dormitories. It was probably safe to relax, at least
for a while.
Kevin
flopped down onto his bed, pulled the book Barrett had lent him from
down the side of his mattress and started to read. By the end of the
first chapter he was completely engrossed, and by the time he reached
the end of the third, he was so wrapped up in it that he failed to
notice the dark figure standing in the doorway.
Jacobs
watched him without speaking for several minutes, then turned and left
as silently as he'd come.
Kevin was
halfway through chapter seven when he was jerked back to reality by
someone calling his name. It wasn't a very pleasant transition and like
so many forced to make it, his voice acted of its own accord.
"Sir, now is
so not a good time to bug me!" he said tightly, then
rolled over and came face to face with DuPont.
"Really?"
DuPont said silkily. He let his gaze travel down to the incriminating
book Kevin was still holding, then back up to the acolyte, who had
suddenly gone very white.
"Sir." Kevin
swung both legs over the side of his bed and stopped short of standing.
He didn't trust his limbs to support him just then.
There was a
long, long silence.
"I'm waiting
for an explanation, acolyte," DuPont said at the end of it.
"Explanation,
sir?" Kevin echoed stupidly.
DuPont took
a deep breath.
"Acolyte
Halls, you have been found reading an illegal text in your quarters,
you have severely injured one of your yearmates, caused the death of
another and from what I can make out, corrupted a member of the
Council. I am going to say this once and once only; do not push
it."
"Sir," Kevin
said again, then blinked. "What do you mean, corrupted a member of the
Council?"
"I mean what
I say, acolyte, since statistics show that no Council member has ever
been reported to come off the dose of their own free will."
"And that's
conclusive, is it, sir?" Kevin said before he could stop himself, then
bit his tongue hard.
"Your
meaning?" DuPont snapped.
Kevin
hesitated, then took the plunge.
"Well, sir,
all that would prove is that no Council member who came off the dose
has ever been caught." He wondered whether he should add that in his
opinion, it had been Barrett who had done the corrupting, but
reluctantly decided against it and nodded towards the book instead. "I
was instructed to study this by Vice-Council Barrett. There have been
incidents of sense offenders concealing important information in such
texts. Barrett was busy and he asked me to check it out."
"Do you
expect me to believe that, acolyte?"
"Why else
would I say it, sir?"
"So you were
checking this illegal text for some form of...what, acolyte? Subliminal
paragraphs?"
"I just
follow orders, sir," Kevin said placidly, conveniently forgetting that
he usually did no such thing.
"Give me the
text, Halls."
"Why, sir?
So you can read it for yourself?"
There was a
deadly silence before DuPont said very softly, "What are you implying,
acolyte?"
"I wasn't
aware I was implying anything, sir. But this was given to me by
Vice-Council Barrett and if you have a problem with my obeying orders,
I suggest you take it up with him." Kevin went back to the book,
flipping through it rapidly now.
"You were
reading that, acolyte."
"Just that
page, sir. I thought I detected a code in the first word of every
sentence. However, I was mistaken."
"The chances
of a successful code being hidden in a book like that are negligible,
Halls."
"How would
you know that, sir?" Kevin said, lifting his eyes from the book to look
squarely at DuPont. "Read it yourself, have you?"
"Such a
level of insubordination does you no credit, acolyte."
"Was that a
yes or a no, sir?"
DuPont
stepped forward and snatched the book out of Kevin's hands, tearing the
cover.
"Hey, watch
it!" Kevin said, before he could stop himself.
"Halls, if
you believe for one moment that I condone the perusal of such texts-"
"You condone
it as far as Andersen's concerned, though," Kevin blurted. "Why am I
any different, sir?"
DuPont froze.
"You're
mistaken, acolyte."
"And so are
you, sir," Kevin said pleasantly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to
finish perusing this text before lights out."
He held out
a hand expectantly and DuPont, after a moment's deliberation, dropped
the book into it.
"Naturally,
you will hand it over for incineration once you're through."
"Naturally,"
Kevin said, not quite managing to keep the bite out of his tones.
DuPont glared at him for a few moments longer, then turned and strode
away, and Kevin settled back down, mentally counting.
He'd reached
thirty when Barrett entered, looking somewhat harassed.
"You spoke
to DuPont then, sir?" Kevin said, before the Vice-Council could say
anything.
"I didn't
think you'd be arrogant or stupid enough to read an illegal book while
he was in the same room," Barrett said heavily.
"I didn't
exactly pull it out in front of him," Kevin protested, then scowled.
"And while we're on the subject of the book, no disrespect or anything,
but I'm gonna bloody kill you!"
"What's
upset you now?" Barrett said, the innocent note in his voice not
fooling the acolyte for one minute.
"Oh, nothing
much sir, except you compared me to a kinky, torturing, psychotic
serial killer!"
"And you,
er, think that was unjustified, do you?" the Vice-Council said,
pretending to consider the matter.
"Exceedingly
so, sir; I am not kinky!" Kevin paused. "Bloody good book
though," he added.
"I thought
you'd enjoy it. And just for the record, acolyte, what makes you think
I meant for you to identify with that particular character?" Barrett
added, seemingly to the sky. "Why not one of the other protagonists?"
"What? You
think I'm a girl now, sir?" Kevin snorted. "Only in my wildest EC-10
rated dreams!" He paused. "Wait...that didn't come out right."
"Let me give
you a little advice, lad," Barrett said. "When DuPont takes over my
instruction duties permanently, don't think you'll be able to play with
him in the same way you play with me."
"Play, sir?"
Kevin echoed innocently.
"You know
quite well what I was referring to, Kevin."
"Can't say
that I do, sir." Kevin frowned suddenly as the rest of the sentence
sunk in. "Takes over your duties permanently, sir? Are you planning to
retire?"
Barrett
raised his eyebrows.
"What if I
am, lad?"
"Nothing,"
Kevin said, a little too quickly. "Just wondering is all."
The
Vice-Council shook his head.
"No, I'm not
planning on retiring just yet. But you're fourteen years old, Kevin.
You have four years before you graduate and the Council's going to
replace me in two; I'll be at retirement age then and I won't have any
say in the matter."
Kevin looked
uncomfortable. The prospect of Barrett leaving the Monastery had never
crossed his mind.
"So...it'd
definitely be DuPont who takes over?" he said, striving to keep his
voice light.
"Why else do
you think he was promoted to the Council? I'm next in line for
retirement, and the other members have their own duties. He came up to
take over from me."
Kevin
slumped onto the bed.
"Great. Just
as I get used to one sense offending Vice-Council, he ups and leaves
and the best friend of my worst enemy takes his place. What did I ever
do to deserve this?"
"Is that a
trick question?"
Kevin glared
at him.
"How the
hell can you joke about something like that?"
Barrett
raised his eyebrows.
"Don't tell
me you'll actually miss me."
"What?"
Taken aback, Kevin's jaw dropped. "Course not," he said, after a pause
that was slightly too long. "It's just going to be a bloody nuisance
adjusting to DuPont, that's all."
"Whatever
you say, lad."
The glare
intensified.
"What's that
supposed to mean, sir?"
"Nothing,"
Barrett said innocently, then crossed over to the door. "I'll see you
tomorrow, acolyte."
"Leaving
already, sir?"
"I had to
get past the patrol to get here. If I spend too long, they're going to
wonder why. Goodnight."
"Goodnight
sir." Kevin looked at his textbook, then at the novel, then back at his
textbook and tossed it into his locker. He'd probably done enough work
for one night and besides, he wanted to find out if the detective and
criminal mastermind were going to wind up together. Medical science
could wait; he had about half an hour before Jacobs was due back and
wanted to spend it doing something more constructive than study.
Kevin closed
the door carefully, flopped down onto his stomach, opened the book
again and started to read.
As the months passed, followed eventually by the next year's set of
exams, Kevin found himself starting to relax fully. He'd finally
managed to settle into a routine; an ultra-paranoid routine, perhaps,
but routine nonetheless.
It was late
one evening when it happened. Kevin was alternating between studying
and dozing-with, it has to be admitted, a lot more emphasis on the
second part than the first-when Jacobs returned from night shift,
tossing his text on the bed and jerking Kevin out of his current
half-dream, much to the other acolyte's relief. He hadn't liked the way
it had been going.
"Andersen's
looking for you," Jacobs said by way of greeting.
Kevin
suppressed his groan with a superhuman effort. Andersen had been
surpisingly well-behaved since their last fight, and Kevin had hoped
he'd learned his lesson.
"Again?
Doesn't he have a life of his own?"
Jacobs
shrugged.
"I couldn't
say. I told him you'd left for the Nethers on an excursion and you
weren't due back until tomorrow evening."
Kevin
blinked.
"Why?"
Jacobs sat
down on the other bed and stared at him intently, dark eyes piercing.
Kevin shifted. He was starting to feel uncomfortable.
God,
don't make me kill this guy as well. Not Jacobs. Please god, not him.
"You want to
know what I think?" Jacobs said suddenly.
"You're
probably going to tell me anyway," Kevin drawled, "so what the hell.
Yeah."
"I think
Andersen's a sense offender. I think you somehow found this out but you
can't do anything without any proof, and that he knows you
know, and that he wants to shut you up before you can do anything about
it."
"Way ahead
of you, Jacobs," Kevin informed him easily. "He's already tried twice."
Jacobs'
expression took on a startled look. It was plain he'd been expecting
Kevin to be bowled over by his declaration and was, in a Prozium-dulled
kind of way, exceedingly put out that he wasn't.
"Did he
succeed?"
There was a
pause while Kevin turned this question over in his mind.
"Jacobs?"
"Yeah?"
"Do I look
dead to you?"
"Uh...no."
"Then don't
ask such bloody stupid questions. Anyone would think you'd only just
been enrolled." Kevin yawned. "Speaking of enrolling, did you know that
DuPont was training to take over Barrett's duties in a couple years?"
he added, paging through a book. "Permanently, I mean."
"Couple of
years? Couple of days more like," Jacobs answered absently, now
rummaging through his locker. Kevin glanced up, startled.
"What do you
mean?"
Jacobs
looked at him oddly.
"Didn't you
hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Vice-Council
Philip Barrett was arrested earlier this evening."
Chapter 7 
