"Acolyte
Halls!"
Kevin jumped violently.
There was no way he could have stopped himself. A slight click
from next to him reminded him that he hadn't yet released the safety
catch. At the moment, he wasn't sure if he was glad or sorry about that.
The Cleric in the doorway
eyed him coldly.
"Explain yourself, acolyte."
Kevin found himself staring
down a pair of twin pistols. He tried to swallow in a suddenly dry
throat. If he was going to end it, he wanted to do so on his
terms, not the terms of some bastard Cleric.
An explanation flashed past
him and he seized it desperately with both hands.
"I was...I was trying to,
uh, to gain a better understanding of the point of view of a sense
offender, sir."
"By attempting to end your
own life."
"Sir, my safety catch is
still on. I believed there to be a minimum amount of risk to my person.
I merely wished to optimise my understanding by experiencing the feel
of a gun to my head. Like they do, sir."
Even to him, it sounded
pathetic.
The Cleric continued to
regard him through cold, narrow eyes.
"Report to Vice-Council
DuPont immediately."
"Sir...I, uh, I believe my
attire-"
"-will suffice," the other
cut in implacably.
Kevin seriously doubted
this, as he seemed to have torn his coat off at some point (although he
couldn't for the life of him remember when) and was now dressed in
nothing more than the pants he wore at night. Arguing probably wasn't
going to help his case, however. Shame. All he wanted to do was go and
collapse somewhere, try and get his heart rate and mind back to
something approaching normal. Maybe he could go to the medic, find out
if there was a cure...
Yeah, right, Kev. You
just trot along to the heart of Equilibrium and tell them you've been a
forced sense offender for the last fourteen years. I'm sure clinical
interrogation won't hurt too much. I mean, all those screams
you hear when you're lying awake in the Monastery...hell, those guys're
just wimps, right?
Right.
"Sir-" Kevin began.
"Immediately,
acolyte," the Cleric repeated, ice on every word.
For a long moment Kevin
honestly considered turning the gun in his hand on the Cleric, then
reluctantly lowered it onto the bed. He didn't doubt that the man was
good enough to incapacitate him instead of killing, and he really
didn't want to have to explain to DuPont why he'd been caught
nanoseconds away from blowing his own brains out.
"Can't I just-" he started
again.
The Cleric snapped his own
sidearms away, reached down, gripped the acolyte's elbow and physically
hauled him to his feet.
"Move. Now."
Kevin bit back the first
reply that came to his lips and yanked his arm back, not even daring to
glare at the man.
"Am I under arrest, sir?" he
said.
"Not yet, acolyte."
Kevin shot the Cleric a
look, but the man's face might as well have been carved out of granite
for all it revealed. Well, he supposed there was no real surprises
there. Bloody Prozium.
He stepped outside and
started towards the Vice-Council's office, his mind working furiously
now, trying to work out what the hell DuPont could want that he hadn't
already said. He couldn't already know about what Kevin had just tried
to do; there was no way news could travel that fast, not unless the
Vice-Council had...
Kevin paused almost
imperceptibly.
Had bugged the room.
The acolyte started walking
again, mindful of anyone watching, his mind now turning over this new
angle.
He'd have had plenty of opportunities to do it; I'm out
all day, every day bar Sunday afternoons, or he could have got Jacobs
to plant something.
Kevin continued thinking
about this idea right up until he reached the door of DuPont's office,
when he shelved it for future consideration. He'd have to wait, pick a
time when Jacobs was on the night shift, then turn the room upside down
for bugs.
In the meantime, though, he
had far more crucial matters to attend to.
Kevin didn't bother to knock
- DuPont wasn't worth the risk of bruising his knuckles - but pushed
open the door and strode in, slamming it hard behind him.
DuPont was sitting at his
desk, leafing through a pile of papers. Kevin didn't know or give a
shit what the Vice-Council was reading; he knew how this game was
played. DuPont was waiting for him to break the silence. The papers
were probably nothing more than a stage prop.
Well, if he wants me to
speak first, who am I to disobey a member of the Council?
Kevin stepped forward and
said clearly, "What the fuck do you want from me now?"
"You are the highest ranking
acolyte in your year, Halls," DuPont said, by way of greeting.
"You made that point this
morning," Kevin answered tersely. He was in no mood to bandy pretty
words with Barrett's killer. "Is that all you brought me up for? If it
is, I'm going back."
"For someone who claimed
that Vice-Council Barrett didn't matter to him, you seem to have been
particularly disturbed by his death, acolyte," DuPont said, refusing to
rise to the bait.
"All that really disturbed
me was the thought of him under CI, sir," Kevin said calmly. "I thought
that there might have been something he wasn't telling the technicians."
"Something like what, Halls?"
"If I knew that, sir, I'd
have informed my immediate superior without hesitation."
"Your immediate superior,"
DuPont echoed.
"Yes sir."
"Your immediate superior who
- and please, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, acolyte - your
immediate superior who was the man under interrogation in the first
place?"
Damn, you're good,
Kevin thought wryly. Aloud he said, "Uh...yes sir."
"Barrett must have known
about you, Halls."
"Known what, sir?"
"I thought I told you not to
play games with me, acolyte," DuPont said, a definite warning in his
voice.
Kevin shrugged and didn't
answer.
"Your lack of cooperation-"
"-isn't too surprising, sir,
under the circumstances," Kevin cut across acidly. "I've been dragged
out of my room for something that was apparently so urgent I couldn't
even stop to get my top on, and now all you want to do is brag about
the guy you murdered?"
"Murdered?" DuPont
echoed very softly. "That's a very, very unusual choice of
words for somebody on Prozium. Don't you think so, Halls?"
Don't. Kevin wasn't
sure where the thought came from, whether it was the intuitive arts or
something more instinctive, but it was there, completely unshakeable. Don't
rise. Whatever other bloody stupid things you do for the duration of
this meeting, don't let this man inside your head.
Kevin set his jaw slightly.
He was rapidly discovering that anger could actually help keep one's
voice completely level and neutral.
"A mere figure of speech,
sir," he lied steadily.
DuPont eyed him narrowly. He
honestly wasn't quite sure what to make of Kevin Halls, and resented
this fact enormously.
"Figure of speech, acolyte?"
"Do you have hearing
problems, sir? Yes. A figure of speech. Now, getting back to what we
were saying earlier, did you drag me up here just to chat about the old
man's death?"
DuPont took a deep breath.
He didn't want to lose his temper with Halls yet, not until he'd worked
out exactly what made this particular acolyte tick. He'd severely
underestimated him before, when he'd caught him reading that book.
DuPont had had sense offenders cry and plead with him - and if he was
honest, he rather liked the feeling of power that gave him - but Halls
was the first person to treat him as nothing more than an irritation.
Pure surprise had stopped him from shooting the acolyte there and then,
something which DuPont was starting to regret more and more. Yet there
was something inexplicably...fascinating about Halls. The
Vice-Council found himself already wondering what the acolyte was going
to say or do next.
"I need your assistance,
acolyte."
"You said that as well, sir.
I'll give you the same answer I gave you earlier this evening. Go suck
on a firearm. Preferably one with a Resistance fighter on the other
end," Kevin couldn't resist adding, under his breath.
"I heard that, Halls, and
your attitude is one of the main reasons I wanted you for this task."
Kevin shifted slightly, wary
now. If his attitude had indeed been one of the major factors
influencing DuPont's choice, he didn't think the task in question was
going to be particularly enjoyable. Still...for all that, DuPont didn't
strike him as sadistic, just utterly ruthless. Eliminating his
opponents seemed to give him satisfaction rather than actual pleasure.
Kevin concentrated, trying
to get a handle on DuPont's mood.
"Is this something to do
with the rebel cells, sir?" he said suddenly.
"The rebel cells do not
exist, Halls," DuPont said pointedly. "The last thing we want is for
anyone to start a panic."
"Right, sir." Kevin
stretched up onto the balls of his feet, holding the position for a few
seconds before dropping back down again, an action deliberately
calculated to irritate DuPont. When people were irritated, they'd
sometimes forget exactly what they wanted.
Yeah, something said
smugly inside him, and sometimes they just lose their cool and put
a bullet in your face. This jerk's looking for an excuse to have you
sent down. Don't make it easy for him.
When DuPont remained silent,
Kevin raised his eyebrows.
"So...sir, might I inquire
as to the nature of this, ah, task?"
DuPont let the silence drag
out just long enough for Kevin to start feeling awkward before he
answered.
"The Council have been
concerned about various activities lately. They're worried it might be
the work of rebels."
"The ones that don't exist,
sir?" Kevin said sarcastically, the barest hint of a mocking smirk
playing at the corners of his mouth.
DuPont shot him a look.
"Yes. Exactly. There's to be
an expedition into the Nethers early tomorrow morning; four Clerics and
a sweeper platoon. As I was saying, since you are ranked in the top ten
acolytes in your year, you and the other nine will accompany this
group."
The smirk dropped off
Kevin's face, taking a good deal of his colour along with it.
"The Nethers, sir?" he said,
forcing the words through a suddenly constricted throat.
"Yes, acolyte, the Nethers,"
DuPont answered matter-of-factly, no trace of the satisfaction he felt
showing in his voice.
Kevin took a deep breath.
"Sir...don't you think that
some other acolyte would-"
"No, Halls, I do not,"
DuPont cut across implacably. "You seem to have slid out of every
excursion from the age of eleven, and for some obscure reason Barrett
never pressed you. That changes now. I want you along and short of
sudden death, I won't accept any excuses."
There was a silence. Kevin
was frantically racking his brains for something to say, some way to
dissuade DuPont from sending him along, and drawing a blank.
"If you think I'm going to
agree to this, DuPont, you're out of your fucking tree," he said
abruptly.
DuPont raised his eyebrows.
"I'm sorry, Halls. I believe
I missed the whole part where I gave you a choice. You're going. End of
story. This is a standard enough excursion; as I said, nine other
acolytes will be going along with you."
Kevin raised his eyebrows.
"Then where the fuck are
they?"
DuPont continued to regard
him steadily before saying, "I would advise you to moderate your
language, acolyte, if you don't want to find yourself in even deeper
trouble."
"Barrett used to say
something like that to me as well," Kevin said. If he focused on
DuPont's face, if he thought hard about it being burned out, or torn
off, or anything really, so long as it was painful...if he managed to
keep that in his mind, he could just about manage to talk about Barrett
without losing it completely.
"I am not Vice-Council
Barrett, acolyte-"
"No sir; Barrett had
brains," Kevin blurted before he could stop himself, then clamped his
mouth shut, hard.
"That mouth of yours is
going to land you in serious trouble one of these days, acolyte,"
DuPont said in dangerous tones. "I suggest you close it, now."
Kevin took a deep breath.
"Yes sir. I apologise."
DuPont continued to stare at
him coldly until even Kevin started to feel slightly nervous.
"As I was about to say,
acolyte, you have no good reason not to go."
Good reason? You want a
good reason, asshole? I'll give you a good reason, Kevin thought
mutinously.
"My injuries, sir-"
DuPont slammed a hand down
onto the desk.
"How stupid do you think I
am, Halls?"
"Uh..." Kevin hesitated. He
wasn't entirely sure whether this was a trick question, but he was damn
sure that he couldn't answer it without signing his own death warrant.
"If you're going to attempt
to lie or manipulate people, at least do a good job. Your injuries
occurred nearly four years ago from being kicked through a window. One
accident does not grant you the right to laze about for the rest of
your years in the Monastery."
Laze about? Kevin
thought incredulously. Try living a day in my life, DuPont, then
tell me who gets to laze about!
"Unless..." and here
DuPont's voice changed suddenly, became silky soft, "unless there was
more to that than I was led to believe. Do you want to discuss that
little incident with me, Halls?"
"I would rather be castrated
with a cutting torch, sir."
"That," DuPont said
icily, "can be arranged, and if you don't want to find out how fast,
answer my question. Were you really kicked through a window, or was
there something a little more?"
Kevin felt the small amount
of colour still in his face drain from it at about the same time that
he broke out into a cold sweat. He took a deep breath, fighting to keep
his voice even.
"No sir. It was a window."
"There are very few windows
in good repair in the Nethers, Halls," DuPont pressed.
"I seem to be very unlucky,
sir," Kevin answered, not missing a beat. "Like I said, it was a
window."
Something seemed to strike
the Vice-Council as amusing; he gave a kind of half smile, one that was
gone almost as soon as it arrived.
"I don't believe you."
Kevin curled his lip
contemptuously.
"So what?"
Turning, he started towards
the door.
"Did I say you were
dismissed, acolyte?" DuPont said sharply.
"Did I say I gave a shit,
Vice-Council?" Kevin answered, imitating DuPont's voice perfectly.
The Vice-Council got to his
feet, not particularly hastily.
"Come here, Halls."
Kevin raised his jaw ever so
slightly.
"With respect sir, if I'm to
go into the Nethers tomorrow morning, I want to be well-rested. Suppose
I'm tired and someone slips up on me?"
DuPont continued staring at
him, the look in his eyes promising trouble.
"Then, acolyte, you would
deserve everything they did to you."
Kevin took a deep breath.
"Nice, sir. Very nice. So
much for loyalty and cooperation, huh? And there was me thinking that
the Council members actually believed all of Father's
doctrines."
DuPont stepped forward,
rounding the desk until he was barely inches away from the acolyte.
"It is not your place to
criticise Father's word, Halls."
"Didn't think I was, sir. I
was criticising your attitude towards it."
Kevin blocked the backhander
that came his way automatically. When Barrett had struck him, it had
been disciplinary (and the acolyte was honest enough to admit that he
had fully deserved it), but judging from the unexpected force required
to stop it, DuPont's intentions had been more along the lines of
breaking his jaw.
"Careful, sir." Kevin
dropped his arm and massaged the area where the man's fist had struck.
"You're getting dangerously close to-"
He barely had time to blink
before DuPont brought his fist around again, this time managing to
drive it into the side of his face. Taken off guard, Kevin hit the
polished floor, the force of the blow spinning him around.
"I am getting tired
of playing these immature little games, Halls," DuPont informed him.
"If you think for one minute you can play me like you did that old fool
Barrett-"
Kevin was never able to
remember exactly what happened next. All he knew was that DuPont was
suddenly sprawling across the desk, and his own knuckles were throbbing
angrily.
"You say one more word,"
Kevin hissed, his voice so venomous it unnerved even him, "and I'll
report you to the Palace of Justice myself and I don't care if I burn
for it!"
DuPont got to his feet,
blood already trickling from a split lip, then his hand flicked out and
yanked the acolyte's dark glasses off. He was considerably surprised
when this didn't seem to have any effect.
Kevin gave an elaborate
yawn, covering his mouth with his hand.
"Cute, Vice-Council. And if
you hadn't been so determined for me to wear these goddamned contact
lenses at the execution, it might have worked as well." He hooked one
bare foot under the glasses, flipped them into the air, caught them
one-handed and then replaced them before offering DuPont a mocking
salute. "See you later...sir."
He spun on his heel and
strode out, not looking back or even slowing down until he reached his
room.
"What happened in here?"
Jacobs said as soon as Kevin entered. The other acolyte blinked.
"Excuse me?"
Jacobs sighed as he rolled
over and started ticking items off on his fingers.
"One, the bathroom mirror's
smashed. Two, your sidearm is out in plain view on your bed, which
means you must have taken it out but then - given the lack of bullet
holes - decided not to use it. Three, you have one hell of a bruise
starting to come on your left cheekbone. Have you and Andersen been at
it again?"
"No," Kevin answered
shortly. Andersen had been strangely subdued recently. Kevin suspected
that DuPont's failure to protect him had a lot to do with this and he
couldn't help feeling slightly sorry for the other acolyte. Betrayal of
that magnitude had to hit hard.
Jacobs looked at him for a
few more minutes, as if he could somehow read the answer in Kevin's
face, then rolled over and went back to his copy of Colonies.
"Are you ready for
tomorrow?" he said.
Kevin shot him a startled
look.
"You mean you're going on
this excursion as well?"
Jacobs, who was currently
ranked at seventh in the class but who - unlike Andersen - didn't seem
interested in moving up the hierarchy through direct challenge,
shrugged.
"Of course. Don't tell me
you didn't know about it."
Kevin, who had been about to
say exactly that, closed his mouth with an audible snap.
"What's the point, anyway?"
he said instead. "Does DuPont think that the Resistance is going to put
in an appearance just to oblige us?"
Jacobs shrugged again.
"Whether they do or not,
it'll be a good experience. You've been into the Nethers before,
haven't you?"
Kevin felt a slight chill
run down his spine.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Think we're likely to find
the Resistance?"
"That's why DuPont's sending
us," Kevin said, a little too patiently.
"Are you excited?"
'Excited' wasn't the first
word Kevin would have picked, not when the phrase 'scared shitless' was
leaping up and down in an effort to make itself heard.
"I'm on Prozium," he heard
himself say. "Why should I be excited?"
Jacobs continued to eye him
impassively for a few minutes before abruptly reaching up and flicking
out his light.
"Goodnight, Halls."
Profoundly relieved that the
conversation was over, Kevin turned out his own light.
"'Night."
"What's your problem?"
Jacobs demanded in an undertone early the next morning. The group had
been travelling for at least an hour now, and Kevin had been on
tenterhooks for the entire duration. He rounded on his yearmate now.
"What? Nothing! There's no
problem, Jacobs; what put that crazy idea into your head?"
By way of an answer, Jacobs
hung back until Kevin and the others had gotten a little way ahead,
then picked up a discarded food tin and drop-kicked it into the nearest
wall. The resultant clang caused Kevin to jump almost a full
foot in the air and very nearly got Jacobs a bullet in the face for his
troubles.
"I rest my case," the other
acolyte said impassively.
"Reflexive actions don't
count as emotions," Kevin said, while making a mental note that he was
going to get Jacobs for that if it was the last thing he ever did.
"Yours seem to be
somewhat...exaggerated, though," Jacobs pointed out.
Kevin, uncomfortably aware
of the other members of the group who were listening hard, frantically
racked his brains for a likely explanation. Explaining one such
incident was simple enough. Explaining constant repetitions of that
incident...that was slightly harder.
The acolyte took a deep
breath. In this situation, even Gun-Kata offered only one option.
Run.
Kevin turned and bolted,
scrambling over rubble and dodging around sweepers. He caught a glimpse
of movement up ahead and his pulse quickened. Excellent. Now if he was
challenged, he could say he'd seen people, assumed they belonged to the
same Resistance unit and gone to bring them in for questioning...which
wasn't too far from the truth, now that he thought about it.
Someone suddenly seized him
around the waist and half carried, half dragged him bodily into a
building.
"Who are you?" a voice
demanded hoarsely in his ear. "What are you doing here?"
Panic overcame Kevin and he
struggled wildly and unsuccessfully to free himself.
"Let go!" he said.
There was a slightly
nonplussed silence from behind him. Clerics - even Clerics-in-training
- when grabbed from behind did not usually waste breath on asking the
grabber to 'let go', not when that breath could be put to so much
better use...like breaking both the grabber's arms and legs, for
example.
The grip on Kevin loosened
very slightly, and the acolyte slammed one foot behind him. There was a
muffled oath and his assailant let go to clutch at his shin, recovering
enough to grab Kevin by the wrist as the boy made to push past him.
Their eyes met and in that
instant they both knew.
"You're an offender!"
Kevin glanced frantically
over his shoulder to where the rest of his unit was. Had they heard?
Part of him said it was impossible - the man had barely raised his
voice above a whisper - but the other part, the paranoid part that had
saved him more than once, said that Father himself had probably heard
that.
"You're mistaken," he said
flatly.
"...Right." The look on the
stranger's face said not that he believed Kevin, but that he
understood. "Where were you going?"
Kevin hesitated. Still...if
he couldn't tell a sense offender, who could he tell?
"The Nethers."
"To find the Resistance." It
wasn't a question.
Kevin shook his head. He
didn't dare say anything for fear someone might overhear.
With a practised twist of
his wrist, he jerked out of the man's grip, then glanced over his
shoulder again. No sign of any units. Well, he'd soon change that.
Kevin opened his mouth to
shout for reinforcements, then paused. Something...not quite right.
What had the old man said to him? Something about saving the lives of
Resistance fighters.
Kevin snorted inwardly. Fat
chance of that. Any rebels he came across would be handed straight over
to the Tetra Grammaton and they could count themselves damn lucky if
that was all he did to them.
But still...this one seemed
harmless enough. And Barrett's last words were still far too fresh in
his mind for him to shrug off the guilt this time.
Kevin narrowed his eyes
slightly.
Alright. Just this once, old man; this one's for you.
"Go," he said softly. "Get
out of here. I'll give you as much of a head start as I can."
"Why?"
Kevin rolled his eyes. Why
did Resistance fighters always have to ask that question? It
wasn't exactly rocket science. Why did you usually run away
from a group of people who wanted to torture and kill you?
"Just go! If you
don't you're as good as processed."
"I'm not going to-"
Kevin grabbed him and spun
him around, then shoved him towards the exit.
"Listen to me! If they come
for you, I can't even attempt to stop them!"
"Who are you?"
"Fuck that! That's not
important! Go!" Was it his imagination, or could he hear
footsteps approaching?
The other stared at him.
"Oh shit. Come on, this
way!" Kevin darted past him, out the back and into an alley. "Go on.
Down there, over the wall and you'll be safe!"
"Wait. Come with me."
"What?" Kevin backed
away rapidly. "Are you out of your mind?"
"The Resistance could really
use someone like you."
"Yeah. Use me. I'm
not interested."
"That wasn't what I meant."
"Oh no, I really think it
was." Kevin caught hold of the man's wrist, twisting it round into a
painful lock. "Listen to me, you smug self-righteous bastard, if you
want to give up your life for some impossible dream, go ahead! I don't
care if you die or not. I do, however, care if you want to drag
me down with you!"
"'Impossible'?" the man
queried softly, making no effort to free himself. "What makes you say
that?"
Kevin released him with a
look of contempt.
"Oh, please. A band of
guerrilla fighters, taking on the might of the Tetra Grammaton and
expecting to win?" He shook his head in disgust. "Tell me
something, Resistance fighter. What colour's the sky on your planet?
Soon enough, you'll all be rounded up and sent down for processing.
It's just a matter of time."
"And you want it to happen,"
the man said, voice quiet. It wasn't a question. Kevin narrowed his
eyes.
"Absolutely."
"Why?"
"Because you're a threat to
the continuity of this great society, that's why."
"Don't give me all that
bullshit they feed you in that precious Monastery of yours. That's why
the Council wants us destroyed. And unless you happen to be a
member of that Council - which I doubt, since last I checked they
weren't offering places to the under-eighteens - you should spout
something other than their opinions. Else why did you come off the dose
in the first place?"
It was on the tip of Kevin's
tongue to say that he hadn't, but he swallowed the words with an effort.
"That's my business."
The other shook his head, a
twisted half smile on his face.
"Think so? Why open the cage
door in the first place if you're so determined not to leave it?"
An unpleasant sensation
jolted through Kevin's body, but he managed to mask it behind a cold
stare.
"It wasn't me who opened it.
Either get out or stay and be arrested. I'm not going to argue with you
about it. But choose quickly, or I'll choose for you."
The other raised his
eyebrows.
"Think you could beat me in
a fight? I could have cut your throat back there, kid."
"Yes," Kevin said softly.
"And I could have brought a platoon of sweepers, nine other acolytes
and four Grammaton Clerics down on your head, so I suggest we call it
even."
There was a hot, angry
silence.
"Why don't you give the
Resistance a chance?"
"I already have. Resistance
members don't see me. They just see a weapon."
"Maybe you've just been with
the wrong unit."
Kevin glanced over his
shoulder. No sign of any pursuit yet, which meant they probably
couldn't be overheard.
"You think I'm that stupid?"
he all but snarled, the hatred in his voice so venomous that the other
man actually drew back a couple of steps. "Do you really think
that after they locked me in that-" He broke off abruptly.
"That what?"
"Never mind," Kevin said
curtly. "Either get out or come with me to the Palace of Justice. I'm
not going to argue this further with you."
There was a silence.
"Come with me," the stranger
said again.
"Or what?"
"Or you can explain to the
Tetra Grammaton why you let me escape."
Kevin snorted.
"I didn't let you. You
grabbed me, threw me into a room and fled over the wall."
"That's not true!"
"Yes it is. It's just not
very accurate."
"Just because you had one
bad experience-" the other began.
"Who told you that?" Kevin
demanded hoarsely. He grabbed the stranger's jacket and yanked him
forward, fear lending him enough strength to make up for the difference
in their sizes. "Who told you?"
"I...figured it out for
myself," the man said, a waspish note in his voice that hadn't been
there before.
Abruptly, Kevin released him.
"This is your last warning.
Get out now, before it's too late."
"Too late for what? If
they'd heard us, they'd be here by now."
That much was true; neither
of them had raised their voices above a whisper and if the Tetra
Grammaton hadn't already responded, they weren't likely to.
"Damn you," Kevin grated
almost inaudibly. "Will you go!"
Something in his tone must
have finally filtered through to the stranger; he hesitated, weakening.
"There's nothing I can say
or do to-"
"Go fuck yourself sideways,
offender," Kevin spat. "I don't give a damn about you or your precious
Resistance. Now go hide before I change my mind."
He was never sure if it was
the sound of approaching footsteps or his own vehemence that persuaded
the stranger to listen. Whichever it was, the man took one final look
to where the noise was coming from, then nodded.
"Okay. Okay, take it easy.
I'm going." He glanced back at Kevin. "Just one thing-"
"Oh, for..." Kevin bit back
the expletives screaming up his throat, more through caution of the
sweeper team than any desire to be polite. "What?"
"If you ever change your
mind-"
"I won't."
"-come down to the
Underground and find me. My name's Jurgen, you got that?"
Kevin rolled his eyes.
Resistance fighters, all the same; nothing but morons with more ideas
than brain cells.
"Fine. Whatever. Now get out
of here!"
For a minute, it seemed like
Jurgen was going to press the issue of Kevin's joining - if he did, he
would die; Kevin wasn't about to be suckered in like that again and
there'd be other sense offenders he could save - then he nodded.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"Sure," Kevin
muttered acidly, too quietly for Jurgen to hear. He supposed watching
the man's rather pathetic attempts to scale a wall that Kevin himself
could have been up and down three times in a minute was mildly
entertaining, but it wasn't enough payment for letting him go.
So...what? I helped a
sense offender. No flash of lightning, no pat on the head (although
if Jurgen had tried that trick, Kevin would probably have
broken every bone in his hand) and not even any warm fuzzies
inside, unless nausea counts.
"Halls!"
Kevin whirled, came face to
face with Jacobs and relaxed again.
"Oh, it's you."
"Who did you expect; a
Resistance fighter?"
Kevin suppressed an urge to
roll his eyes with a supreme effort.
"You should know better than
to sneak up behind people like that."
Jacobs raised black eyebrows.
"What happened, anyway?" he
said. "Why'd you take off like that?"
For a minute Kevin seriously
toyed with the idea of betraying Jurgen as a form of revenge for the
scare the man had given him earlier, then he reluctantly dismissed it.
"I thought I saw someone
down here; a rebel. I didn't want to alarm the group unnecessarily, so
I decided to check it out myself."
Jacobs continued to stare at
him, dark eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"That was somewhat foolish,
Halls. You could have been hurt."
Don't I know it,
Kevin thought grimly.
"Maybe," he said aloud.
"Maybe not. Look, he turned and ran, okay? Went over there-" Kevin
compromised with his conscience by waving very vaguely in the direction
of the building next to the wall "-and vanished."
"You chased him down here,
but you chickened out of pursuing him further?"
"Right here I'm still within
earshot of the others," Kevin said, while another part of his mind
underlined the phrase 'chickened out' in red and made a mental note to
come back to it later. "If I'd followed him and it had turned out to be
some kind of ambush, I couldn't have called for backup."
Jacobs held Kevin's gaze for
a while longer, then deliberately shifted it down to the radio attached
to the acolyte's belt. Words were unnecessary.
"How am I supposed to use
that in the middle of Gun-Kata?" Kevin demanded. "What d'you want me to
do, say something like; sorry, can you stop trying to kill me for a
couple of minutes; I just have to radio back?" He was aware that he was
getting very close to sarcasm, which was classed as a C-grade emotion,
but didn't much care. Following that narrow escape from the guy calling
himself Jurgen, Kevin's heart was already pounding at what felt like
three times its normal rate. "What are you doing down here
anyway, if it's so dangerous?" he added, unable to modulate the slight
bite to his tones.
"I was sent to look
for you," Jacobs retorted. "If your sense offender's gone, what are you
still doing here?"
Kevin shrugged.
"Making sure he didn't have
any friends lurking around." That much, at least, was true.
Jacobs' forehead creased
very slightly in a frown.
"I swear, Halls, if I didn't
know better I'd say there are times when it's almost as if you're..."
"What?" Kevin cut across
impassively. "Almost as if I'm what? A sense offender?" He held out his
Prozium unit towards Jacobs. "Well, that's easy enough to disprove. Why
don't you test my supply, Jacobs? In fact, why don't you test me while
you're at it?"
Jacobs gave the unit a
cursory glance before returning his attention to the other acolyte.
"You are to return with me
immediately."
Kevin shrugged. If that
rebel had even half a brain, he'd be long gone by now. There was
nothing to stick around for.
Still...something about him
had lodged itself in his mind. Kevin glanced over his shoulder in the
direction that the man calling himself Jurgen had taken and snorted,
shaking his head. He'd seen plenty of sense offenders come and go in
the Palace of Justice. The man would be dead within the month. He'd lay
money on it.
