He was lying on his bed and about
halfway through this revision when Jacobs came in, resplendent in white.
"What's the occasion?" Kevin said.
Jacobs glanced at him.
"What do you mean?"
Kevin nodded towards him.
"Your dress uniform. I don't think I've
seen you wear it since the last graduation ceremony."
"What? Oh." Jacobs glanced down, as
though he hadn't been aware of it up until now. "I had to talk with
DuPont."
Kevin blinked.
"You got all dolled up for that?"
"I did have to see him in his
office." There was Prozium-dulled reproach in Jacobs' tone, reproach
which had about as much effect on Kevin as a single snowflake on a
polar bear.
"What about?" he said.
"I hardly think that concerns you,
Halls. You'll know soon enough."
Kevin shot him a look, but Jacobs had
already laid down on his bed and started the essay DuPont had set on
Emotional Recognition. Something in his posture told Kevin that he
wouldn't get any more answers just then.
So I'll know soon enough, will I?
He raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. Yeah, you're right
there. I'll know sooner than you think.
Kevin abruptly snapped his book shut and
got to his feet, shouldering the black holdall at the foot of his bed
as he did so. He'd made other plans for that night, plans which didn't
include studying.
"Where are you going?" Jacobs demanded.
"Out. I have something to take care of."
Kevin swung the bag round and unzipped it, examined its contents. All
there. Perfect. "I shouldn't bother waiting up, if I were you," he
added to Jacobs in a rare moment of unguarded sarcasm, then zipped the
bag back up again and left the room.
He made it outside the Monastery without
too much difficulty; the Clerics were currently patrolling the opposite
end of the building and there was nobody outside in Libria to see him
as he strolled over to Equilibrium and craned his head back to examine
the windows. Barrett had always been exceedingly cagey about what was
located in the main Council building, which had in itself been enough
to send Kevin's curiosity straight through the ionosphere. The sweepers
would never let him in though, and if the rumours about them being
Clerics in disguise were even half true, Kevin didn't fancy his chances
in a fight.
He knew which window to aim for; the
blueprints were available to anyone with top security clearance or, in
Kevin's case, anyone capable of a little hacking. Climbing up three
storeys on the outside was likely to pose something of a challenge, but
Kevin was pretty confident this could be overcome.
Let's see...
He looked up, past the window and to the
apartment blocks beyond. Although none of them were higher than
Equilibrium, he thought they were probably high enough for what he
wanted.
Kevin turned and started to run towards
the closest, then skidded to a stop as the head of one of the sweepers
turned around to focus on the movement.
Think...think...
Kevin brought one hand up to his ear,
half turning away from the sweeper as he did so, adopting the position
of someone who, to all intents and purposes was listening intently to
someone on the other end of a radio headset.
Muttering a few choice imprecations
about Andersen, DuPont and any Resistance fighter who was ever born,
secure in the knowledge that the sweepers were too far away to hear him
and would just see his mouth moving, Kevin finally nodded, mimed
removing the headset and stuffing it into a pocket, and then started to
run towards the apartments again.
"Stand aside," he ordered as he drew
near the sweepers, both of whom had stepped into his path. Kevin slowed
his pace; it was that or crash straight into them.
"Identification."
"As a Grammaton acolyte, I don't need it
inside Libria," Kevin shot back.
"You are out after curfew."
"So are you. There's a suspected sense
offender in this apartment block; I was ordered by Vice-Council DuPont
to enter and apprehend them."
"We have instructions not to allow
anyone in or out after curfew without proper identification," the
sweeper reiterated.
Kevin drew himself up.
"Are you questioning the Vice-Council's
orders?" he said icily.
"Yes."
Oh well, at least he's honest,
Kevin thought wryly, before saying, "Then I suggest you call into
Equilibrium and tell DuPont you don't want to comply. Or get out of my
way and let me do my job."
There was a long, tense silence before
the sweepers reluctantly moved aside.
"Thank you," Kevin said, the sarcasm in
his voice too slight for either of the men to pick up on, and entered
the building, breaking into a run as soon as he judged it safe. Why the
hell were sweepers guarding this apartment block, anyway?
Maybe to stop people like you doing
what you're doing, a little voice inside him
suggested.
Kevin grimaced. That was most likely
true.
Still, he'd left them behind him, no
doubt watching the streets for any more curfew-breakers, and what they
didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
He reached the top floor and continued
on. He'd worked this through...if his calculations were accurate...
Apartment 231...231...come on, where are you?
There! It was currently empty; its last
occupants had been the four girls Kevin had discussed with Barrett all
those months ago. According to the file, a Cleric who had been in the
room adjoining one of the Council offices had looked up through the
window to check the local airship for any changes to Father's current
doctrine and the apartment window of the four girls had been directly
in his line of sight.
Which means that room would be directly in mine, if I
can get in.
Kevin tested the door. Locked. Big
surprise.
He tightened his lips for the briefest
instant as he considered his options, then abruptly spun on his heel
and hammered on the door of the apartment opposite.
"Tetra Grammaton! Open up!"
After a few minutes, the door was pulled
open by a somewhat bleary-eyed Librian. Kevin strode into the
apartment, brushing the man aside as though he wasn't there, and kept
going until he reached the far wall.
"What's going on?" The resident's wife,
clearly more alert than her spouse, appeared in the bedroom door, hair
mussed.
Kevin nodded to her.
"Grammaton business."
He took one or two deep breaths,
composing himself, then broke into a sprint, racing past the other
Librian - who was still looking at him in a somewhat bemused fashion,
more asleep than awake - and crashing feet first into the door of
number 231, which dropped almost instantly onto the floor, stirring up
clouds of dust. Coughing violently, Kevin got to his feet and glanced
over his shoulder, noticing the inhabitant of apartment 230 still
looking at him dully.
"Thank you," Kevin said, in between
coughs. "I'll take it from here. Go back to sleep."
He turned away, not bothering to see if
his order was obeyed, waiting until he heard the opposite door click
shut before going through into the living room, noticing that it had
been stripped bare of all furnishings following the girls' arrest.
Great. This might be a little harder than I first
thought.
He crossed over to the window, dumped
his bag down on the floor and unzipped it, withdrawing a grappling
hook, a roll of tape, and a spare pillowcase that he'd borrowed from
the laundry room. Then, because he wasn't a complete bastard, he looked
down on the street to make sure it was clear before taping the
pillowcase tightly around the edge of the window frame, snapping a gun
out and smashing the glass. So far so good.
Now for the tricky bit.
He picked up the hook and looked at it
for a few minutes, as if trying to work out what it was for, then
coiled it up and, trying not to think too much about what he was doing,
let fly.
It took fifteen minutes, seven attempts
and three more broken windows before Kevin finally managed to get the
hook into the right room, and another two gos before it caught and held
on something.
Nice one. Now, with no furniture and no window left,
what are you going to do with the other end?
The acolyte hesitated, then picked up the
tape and thought what the hell. It was supposed to be
industrial strength, after all.
Stretching the other end of the rope
horizontally across the empty frame, he taped it to the surrounding
wall, crossing the tape over several times and in as many different
directions as he could think of before tugging experimentally on the
rope.
It'll have to do. I didn't come this far to turn back
now.
He unstrapped an empty wrist holster -
he'd left one of his sidearms behind for this very purpose - and looped
it over the rope. He knew the holster would support him; it had been
done before by fully grown men, and Kevin was only fifteen. The problem
arose with the rope; he had no idea if the tape was strong enough to
hold him.
Well, Kev, there's only one way to find out.
Kevin got into position on the sill,
took a firm hold of the holster, closed his eyes and jumped.
There was a brief moment of
weightlessness, followed by a steadily increasing rush of air as he
gathered momentum. Despite himself, Kevin enjoyed the sensation; he'd
always liked this part of training. And it seemed to be working as
well; the hook had caught on the lower sill and was holding firm.
A slight jerk from behind him informed
Kevin that the other end of the rope wasn't doing so well, however, and
he winced, instinctively closing one hand lightly around the rope. That
way, if it did go, he just might avoid a long, painful drop followed by
a longer, much more painful visit to the technicians.
There was a ripping sound from behind
him and Kevin barely had time to tighten his hold before the rope in
question abruptly went slack.
Alright. Fine. No big deal; it's still attached at the
other end. Just hang onto it and you can swing across easily and climb
up the rope.
The small flaw in this reasoning hit
Kevin at around the same time the wall did, although not quite as hard.
Even though he was alone in the street and nobody in Equilibrium could
hear or see him, Kevin still said aloud, "I meant to do that," before
starting the climb towards the window.
He'd almost made it when the rope he was
climbing jerked suddenly, dropping him about six inches, and Kevin felt
his blood run cold.
Looks like my luck's about to run out,
he thought, and almost immediately something inside him retorted, Really?
When has it ever been in?
Taking a deep breath, Kevin increased his
speed, wincing as he felt the rope jolt another eighteen inches
downwards. Looking up, he saw that the window wasn't that far away.
Maybe he could swing up, grab it and pull himself through. One thing
was certain though; if he waited much longer, the decision was going to
be taken out of his hands.
Kevin paused for a second, then took a
tight hold on the rope with one hand and used his teeth to pull the
glove off the other. That was better. Gloves were fine for handling
firearms, but they didn't do shit for your climbing skills.
Then, almost in slow motion, he swung
himself up sideways and seized the window ledge in one hand, swearing
under his breath as the movement caused two fingernails to peel back.
There was a soft slithering sound
followed by a not so soft clattering as the extremity of the motion
dislodged the grappling hook. Kevin had just enough time to flatten
himself against the wall as the heavy metal hook flashed past him, the
action causing his grip to slip an inch or two.
He gritted his teeth. There was only one
direction he could go in now.
Well...alright, he supposed that there
were two directions, but the second one would only really become an
option under extreme protest, and not until all attempts at the first
one had failed completely.
Kevin pulled himself up, just about
managing to get his eyes level with the ledge before he succeeded in
flinging his other arm through the window and grabbing on. Fragments of
glass bit into the underside of his arm, but he was past feeling them.
All that mattered was getting inside.
Somehow, he found the strength to haul
himself through the broken window and into the room beyond, which was
deserted. Kevin was somewhat surprised by this - he'd thought that the
breaking of those windows would have been enough to serve as a beacon
to just about every Council member around - but he wasn't about to
question it.
Moving silently, he crossed the black
floor to crouch down in front of the door, squinting through the
keyhole. The fact that nobody had thought to upgrade the old fashioned
lock and key method to individual cards yet was a mark of how old (and
apathetic) Equilibrium actually was.
Still, it was useful enough. Kevin could
see and hear well enough to both eavesdrop and know if anyone was
coming over to open the door in plenty of time to be away.
In the other room and unaware of what
was going on next door, DuPont glanced over at his secretary and his
mind, in the absence of any pressing matters to occupy it, started to
wander.
Max Silcox was at least fifteen years
older than DuPont and had spent twelve of those fifteen years as a
Council secretary. DuPont often wondered if Silcox had worked for
Barrett prior to the Vice-Council's incineration and if so, how had he
felt about it?
For Silcox did feel, there was no
question about that. He'd been off the dose for almost the entirety of
his time with the Council, and DuPont wondered for the first time if
the Council actually chose its members and/or affiliates based on that.
To survive as a sense offending Cleric took a good deal more guts and
intelligence than most people might think, combined with a certain
ruthlessness.
Actually, come to think about it, how
long had Barrett been off the dose? He'd been on the Council for almost
thirty five years, after all...
On the other side of the table, Silcox
turned over a page of notes and read through them, fully aware of the
thoughts going through the Vice-Council's mind but keeping his own
counsel. He never concerned himself with power games but worked for
whichever member of the Council needed him, doing both the most trivial
and most complicated of jobs with the same degree of calm acceptance
and dedication as the average Librian on the dose. Doing this afforded
him a modicum of prestige and a hell of a lot of protection, which was
all he was really interested in. He knew that DuPont wouldn't dream of
ordering his execution, largely because the Vice-Council wanted to rise
in the Council as much and as quickly as possible, and killing him
wasn't the way to go about it. He took care never to consort with other
sense offenders outside the Council, whilst keeping a close eye on all
up-and-comings, both acolytes and Clerics. He was possibly the only
person in the whole of Libria or the Nethers who would address any
Council member informally and as an equal without fear of retribution.
DuPont, for his part, was more than
content with this. No Cleric or acolyte would dare to disagree with his
orders (except possibly Halls, his treacherous mind whispered, still
haven't done anything about him, have we?) which was fine as far as
respect went, but if there was a genuine problem, he wanted someone to
tell him before he sent half a dozen of his best men in rather than
afterwards.
The politician and the pragmatist,
DuPont mused as he glanced over to where Silcox was currently engaged
in typing up the minutes of the last Council meeting. It was a strange
relationship, one that was purely business, but also one that worked
surprisingly well. He knew he could trust Silcox, not because the man
was particularly devoted to him but because he didn't give a shit if
DuPont was on the dose or not, so long as he got his salary at the end
of each month.
"Do you know Kevin Halls?" he said
suddenly.
Silcox didn't even blink.
"Not personally, although I've heard you
complaining about him often enough. Why?"
"I've tried damn near everything I can
think of to get him on my side. He seems to be immune to everything."
"Including Prozium?"
DuPont shot Silcox a sharp look.
"What makes you say that?"
"I was being sarcastic."
"Hm." DuPont considered this for a few
minutes, then shrugged. The chances of someone being born with a
genetic immunity to Prozium and surviving were so negligible that it
wasn't even worth considering.
Are you saying that because it's true?
something inside him whispered. Or because you don't want to
consider the alternatives; for someone to be born immune and survive in
the Monastery would make them too smart for comfort, after all.
DuPont considered the idea again for
slightly longer, then dismissed it a second time. Kevin Halls was no
more than a typical sense offender. More resourceful than most,
perhaps, but as vulnerable to Prozium as anyone else.
"I'm planning on sending him back into
the Nethers," he said suddenly.
"Why?"
"Because out of everything I've done
except for Barrett - and I can't kill him twice - the thing that seemed
to affect him most was a trip into the Nethers."
"He got pretty badly injured on his
first excursion, didn't he?"
"Yes." Privately DuPont thought that
'pretty badly' didn't begin to cover it; Halls had been on the critical
list for a full week after that sweeper team had discovered him lying
just outside the gates of Libria and brought him in. Advanced
hypothermia had only been the start of his problems; if Vice-Council
Barrett hadn't insisted on a full medical examination prior to the
autopsy, things would probably have turned out rather differently.
"I want him and someone else to go. I'll
think of a pretext, but I aim to send him out there tomorrow."
On the other side of the door, Kevin
snorted.
In your dreams, Vice-Council.
Oblivious to this, DuPont went on.
"Do you think it might work?"
Silcox shrugged.
"Depends. Who were you planning on
sending with him?"
"Andersen."
Silcox choked into his coffee, the sound
fortunately masking the somewhat muffled expletive that came from the
other room at about the same time.
"You find the concept interesting?"
DuPont said idly.
"Interesting...yes. Interesting like a
man juggling flaming torches in a munitions factory would be kind of
interesting." Silcox shook his head. "Forget it. They hate each other,
remember? You might send both of them out, but you'd only get one back.
Maybe."
"Exactly. Problem solved."
Silcox raised his head.
"Really? If you want them dead that
badly, why don't you just order them to be arrested?"
"Because there's no concrete evidence,
at least, not concrete enough to stand up in a court martial! Don't you
think I would have if I could?"
"No need to be like that about it,"
Silcox informed him calmly, returning to the handwritten notes
scattered about the table. "I was only trying to help. So they go out,
one of them kills the other, comes back and blames it on the Resistance
and you accept this, no questions asked."
"Exactly," DuPont said again, and
favoured the man with a particularly steely gaze. "No questions
asked," he said pointedly.
Silcox raised his eyebrows, clearly not
intimidated.
"How about, which acolyte do you want to
see coming back? Am I allowed to ask that?" He leaned back in his
chair, stretching. "Because if you want my opinion-"
"Which I don't."
"-all this seems to me to be nothing
more than an elaborate attempt to assassinate Kevin Halls," Silcox went
on, raising his voice slightly and ignoring the interruption. "If it
is, then fine, but there must be a more secure method. Andersen's had
ample opportunity for years; don't tell me you've already forgotten
that little incident in the Gun-Kata exam?"
DuPont floundered, briefly wrong-footed
by how much Silcox knew. He wondered who his sources were; he knew damn
well that he hadn't said anything about that little incident to
anyone.
"Frankly," Silcox went on imperturbably,
"you seem to be risking everything on an all-or-nothing gamble. Suppose
Halls is the one coming back? You're exactly where you were before you
started, only now you've lost a potential ally." He paused. "And from
what you say, Halls isn't stupid."
"Nor is Andersen," DuPont retorted,
"although I appreciate that may be harder to believe given his recent
behaviour."
Silcox turned over a page of notes and
resumed typing.
"Is there anyone likely to cause
problems if either of them should have an accident in the Nethers?"
DuPont shook his head.
"No. Andersen's parents are both on the
dose and Halls' were processed for sense crimes when he was three years
old. Barrett might have interfered on the boy's behalf, but he's no
longer in a position to cause-" DuPont broke off abruptly. "What are
you doing here, acolyte?"
Kevin jerked back reflexively, mouth
already forming around one excuse or another when he realised that
DuPont couldn't possibly have seen him through the keyhole, at least,
not from the man's current position, and relaxed.
"I'm looking for my roommate, sir."
Jacobs' voice came from the other side of the door and Kevin shot bolt
upright again. It...surely it wasn't possible that Jacobs of all people
had worked out what he'd done?
"You think he's here?" DuPont demanded
tersely.
"I saw him leave the Monastery, sir,
just after I mentioned speaking to you. I think he might be a sense
offender."
"Really." It was remarkable, Kevin
thought, how DuPont could cram what amounted to an entire paragraph's
worth of sarcasm into one word, and still get away with it.
"I also had a report from one of the
sweepers who had just come off duty; he said he'd heard noises from in
there."
"In there?" Kevin knew even without
seeing that DuPont was staring at the door to his hiding place, maybe
even starting towards it. "I don't believe so, acolyte. However, if it
would satisfy your concerns, I'm sure my colleague would be only too
happy to-"
"Allow me, sir," Jacobs cut across.
There was a brief pause before the door was opened somewhat cautiously
and Kevin found himself looking into the other acolyte's face. He
tensed, wondering what the odds were of his drawing his gun, shooting
his roommate and somehow making it out of Equilibrium and Libria and
into the Nethers without being caught.
Probably the same as my chances of making it out the
furnace after it's been lit.
Still...there was no other way out. At
least this way he might be lucky enough to get a bullet in the face
rather than burn to death. He shifted his weight soundlessly and
started to move one hand in preparation.
Jacobs stared hard at Kevin, then, to
the acolyte's utter astonishment, winked.
Pure shock froze Kevin to the spot, and
he watched helplessly, mouth ajar, as Jacobs closed the door and turned
back to face DuPont.
"There's nothing there, sir. It must
have been something from downstairs."
"And your roommate?"
"I must have just missed him, sir. I
imagine he's back in our room by now. I'll check there. Sorry to have
disturbed you."
In the other room, Kevin let out his
breath in a silent rush, wondering what the hell Jacobs' motives in
helping him were and, more importantly, how he was supposed to get out
without a rope.
Looking around for the first time since
arriving, he noticed he was in what could only be a waiting room; there
were metal chairs against the walls and a steel coffee table with a
newspaper on it riveted to the middle of the floor. In the far corner,
there was a sink with several glasses stacked neatly on one side.
Kevin glanced at the clock on the wall.
Just gone midnight. He'd had no idea it had been so long.
Well, it couldn't hurt to rest for a
couple of minutes. He was pretty confident he could hear anyone coming
before they reached the room.
The acolyte sat down on one of the metal
chairs. His eyelids seemed almost to drag themselves closed of their
own volition and he dozed.
After a while, the door clicked open and Kevin, his mind half asleep,
scrabbled frantically for his guns.
"Hey! Hey, easy; it's me!" Jacobs
stepped back, hands out to the side.
Kevin stared at him for a moment, then
replaced the weapon, his muscles still taut and prepared for trouble.
Jacobs shook his head wryly.
"Will you relax? You don't think
I'd cover for you with DuPont if I wasn't sure that there was no way
either of us could be arrested, do you?
"Maybe," Kevin said flatly. "If you were
in his camp."
Jacobs raised his eyebrows.
"Well, it looks like someone's
been popping the paranoia pills, even if he's not up to date on the
Prozium." He snorted. "C'mon, even I'm not dumb enough to make up to a
politician like DuPont. He'd be as happy to see me in the furnace as in
his team. Andersen proved that."
"What?" Kevin said, startled out of his
mood. "What about Andersen?"
Jacobs shook his head, clicking his
tongue pityingly.
"Please. Give me some credit. I happen
to be trained in the intuitive arts and I'm not stupid either; I know
how to put things together."
"Right," Kevin muttered, accepting
Jacobs' offered hand and pulling himself to his feet whilst frantically
trying to work out if and how this latest development was likely to
affect his own situation. "Whatever."
There was an awkward silence.
"Plus the little talk I had with
Andersen helped," Jacobs added with disarming candour.
"What?" Kevin's head snapped around.
"What little talk?"
"He came by while you were with DuPont.
Said he wanted a chat." Jacobs considered. "I say chat; it was
more a kind of him ranting and me sitting and nodding whenever he
paused for breath. Basically, it came down to the fact that you and he
are going into the Nethers tomorrow and he wondered if I knew you were
a sense offender. I told him that I'd known that little fact for almost
as long as he seemed to and unlike him, I had enough of a brain not to
pick a fight with someone who was just looking for a scapegoat."
Kevin stared at him, utterly gobsmacked.
Various words fought for control of his vocal chords.
"What...?" he managed again weakly,
after a somewhat lengthy struggle.
"You really have been very sloppy,"
Jacobs told him, grinning openly now. "Not that I don't admire your
efforts; the extra Prozium stuffed under my mattress, the book in my
locker and the doctored photo of me making love to a Resistance female,
although personally I think that last one was a bit much. I don't even
wanna know how you managed it."
Kevin continued to stare. He'd been so
busy attempting to frame Jacobs that the thought of the other acolyte
being a genuine offender hadn't even entered his head.
"So are you gonna say something or just
sit there gawking at me?" Jacobs said, after several minutes had ticked
off the clock.
"How long?" Kevin said eventually.
Jacobs shrugged.
"Eighteen months. Look, Kevin - can I
call you Kevin?"
"You can call me the Grand High Poobah
of Cheese so long as you answer my question," Kevin said bluntly. "How
long have you known?"
Jacobs snickered.
"Oh, that. I've known for about a year
now, ever since I saw you reading that book. DuPont might have bought
that crap about you checking it for hidden messages, but I think he was
the only one. I was suspicious of you ever since you got back from that
first excursion to the Nethers, to tell you the truth. I think everyone
knew your Prozium supply would have run out long before the medics
picked you up. I never managed to find any proof though, at least, not
until I'd come off the dose myself. And you were pretty
obvious."
"What do you mean, obvious?" Kevin
demanded.
"Simple. Sense offenders never, ever use
the words 'want' or 'like' or 'sorry' or 'feel' or anything like that.
People on Prozium do it all the time." Jacobs considered. "And your
going on a one-man rampage against just about everyone in the Tetra
Grammaton who you thought had something to do with Barrett's death, of
course." He crossed over to the sink and turned on the tap. "Want a
drink?"
"No thank you," Kevin said flatly.
Jacobs half turned, a glass of water already in his hand, and rolled
his eyes.
"Jesus, Kevin, have a day off, would
you? If I wanted to poison you, you don't honestly think I'd drop
something into the Librian water supply and risk taking myself and most
of this sector out at the same time, do you? Even Andersen's not that
crazy."
Kevin remained unconvinced.
"So what the fuck are you doing back
here?"
"I came back to see if you were alright,
of course. I think you dropped these." Jacobs tossed the grappling hook
and Kevin's empty holster over to him. Instead of catching them, Kevin
stepped back just enough to let them fall.
"Thanks," he said curtly. Jacobs
shrugged.
"Anytime. Look, the sweepers are
guarding the main entrance. You'll have to go out the window."
Kevin glanced at the window in question,
then back at his yearmate.
"What about you?"
"I'm alright. They saw me walk in here,
so they're not going to be too worried if they see me walk out again."
Jacobs hesitated. "Besides...I don't think I'll be going straight back
to the Monastery."
"What?" Kevin frowned. "What do you
mean?"
"What I say. You're not the only one who
has, ah, things to take care of."
"So how long are you likely to be?"
Jacobs quirked an eyebrow.
"What's that to you?"
Kevin set his jaw very slightly.
"I just meant, am I going to have to
explain your absence to DuPont in tomorrow's class?"
"Not sure, to be honest. But let me put
it like this-" Jacobs slipped into a passable imitation of Kevin's
voice "-I shouldn't bother waiting up."
He turned and slipped out noiselessly,
leaving Kevin - who was still somewhat shellshocked - alone. After
waiting for a few minutes to be sure that Jacobs was really gone, Kevin
picked up his holster and the hook, this time attaching it securely to
the leg of the nearest desk before rappelling down the side of the
building. He supposed he should have thought of a way to bring the rope
down with him, stop DuPont collecting it for evidence, but he was just
too damn tired. Let it stay there.
Kevin was never certain how he got back
without being stopped. All he was really aware of was arriving back at
his room and collapsing fully clothed onto the bed, asleep almost
before he landed.
"Halls!"
Kevin jerked awake just as the door
leading into his room was kicked open violently and DuPont entered.
"Anyone ever suggested that you learn to
knock?" Kevin demanded groggily. Ignoring this, the Vice-Council
grabbed hold of him and physically hauled him upright.
"Where's your yearmate?" he demanded.
Kevin blinked, trying to kick his brain
into gear.
"What yearmate?" he said stupidly.
"Acolyte Jacobs."
Kevin stared, then glanced over to
Jacobs' bed. It was not only empty, it clearly hadn't been slept in the
previous night.
"No idea, sir."
Great. Every time I find someone who doesn't want to
kill me, they either up and leave or get themselves processed. What the
fuck did I ever do to deserve this?
"Where were you last night?" DuPont said
suddenly.
"Here." It wasn't a complete lie, Kevin
told himself; he had been in the room last night. Maybe not for
long, but it wasn't his fault DuPont asked the wrong questions.
"You didn't go into Equilibrium, by any
chance?"
Kevin almost swallowed his tongue.
"Mistaken identity, sir," he said as
soon as he could. DuPont raised his eyebrows.
"Really? You've never thought about
visiting?"
Kevin snorted.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? I go
into your inner sanctum, find you're not there and think, oh boy, what
a great chance to explore. And I accidentally stumble into a sense
offending acolyte or even one of your pet Clerics who's pretending to
be off the dose and who blows my brains out in a panic. And you add my
to your statistics and breathe a sigh of relief that I can't make life
hard for you anymore. And you're very sorry it happened, but things go
on and the Tetra Grammaton will be working even harder to eradicate the
Resistance now. And doubtless while you're doing all this, you'll sit
back with a glass of wine in one hand, a book in the other and a movie
on your screen, secure in the knowledge that you've removed a potential
competitor for EC-10." Kevin yawned elaborately, stretching as he did
so. "Why don't you go play in the Academy, DuPont? You might be able to
beat a sweeper cadet at your little games, if he was particularly
naïve."
DuPont shook his head.
"Why do you continue making life so hard
for yourself, acolyte? You could be so much more than you are now."
"So much more what, sir? Dead? Maimed?
Clinically interrogated? Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass."
"Your sense of humour is
somewhat...misplaced, Halls."
"So is yours, at least it is if you
thought I was joking," Kevin retorted. Even after all this time, he
still wasn't sure about DuPont. Part of him said that the Vice-Council
couldn't really be as stupid as he seemed, but this part of him was
constantly being reminded by all the other parts that there hadn't been
any evidence to the contrary yet.
"Why should I play nice with you?" he
demanded aloud. "What have you ever done for me?"
DuPont looked at him long and hard for a
good few minutes before saying, "I think the answer to that
question, acolyte, is what haven't I done? I think you've
forgotten that I could have you arrested and processed any time I
chose."
"Oh sure," Kevin said, not bothering to
keep the sarcasm out of his tones. "Yeah, I never think about
how you could legally order me to be tortured to death, Vice-Council,
any more than I think about what you must want from me in exchange for
not doing that little thing."
DuPont steepled his fingers and regarded
Kevin over the tips.
"Are you so sure that I do want
something from you, acolyte?"
"Yeah, I am. Because in my experience,
nobody decides to stick their neck out for someone to that extent
without wanting one motherfucker of a favour in return."
"Really?" DuPont's voice took on that
silky tone that Kevin had already learned to dread. "Why? What did you
do for Barrett?"
"Leave him out of this," Kevin said. He
didn't raise his voice, but there was a deadly tone to it that made
even the Vice-Council think twice about continuing on that subject, and
so he changed it instead.
"You haven't answered my earlier
question, acolyte. Why do you persist in this elaborate charade?"
Kevin favoured DuPont with a twisted,
cynical smile.
"It keeps me alive, Vice-Council. What's
your excuse? Does power turn you on or something?"
DuPont took a deep breath.
"If you're hoping to provoke me with
these petty insults-"
"Hardly; I can't be arsed to do any
provoking right now. Ask me again once I've had breakfast." Kevin sat
back down on the bed, then stretched out leisurely and closed his eyes.
"Why are you so obsessed with me, anyway? I keep telling you; you've
got Andersen."
"And I keep telling you, Halls,
that acolyte Andersen couldn't find his own behind with both hands and
a map," DuPont answered.
"You know, I can't help wondering,"
Kevin said idly, lacing his hands behind his head and not bothering to
open his eyes, "if you talk about Andersen like this behind his back,
what kind of things do you say about me?"
DuPont regarded him through slitted eyes.
"Do you really want to know, acolyte?"
Kevin considered.
"Not really, sir, no. I was just trying
to make polite conversation."
DuPont took a deep breath. Something
about Halls made his teeth itch, not to mention his fists, and the
thought occurred for the first time that there must have been something
pretty special about Barrett for him to have been able to put up with
the acolyte for longer than about three minutes, never mind obtaining
the kid's loyalty.
"Tell me something, Halls. Is there any
genuine, justifiable reason for this constant anger you seem to have?"
"Anger, sir?" Kevin raised his eyebrows,
the smirk on his face belying his next words. "I don't know what
you mean."
DuPont considered his options for the
briefest instant. He supposed his biggest mistake was being so open
earlier on; the instant Halls had learned which facets of his behaviour
were seen by the Vice-Council as an advantage or weakness, he'd just
locked them away.
"How long have you been off the dose,
Halls?" he said suddenly.
"Long enough to recognise a smartass
question when I hear one, sir," Kevin drawled, not missing a beat.
DuPont gave a kind of mental shrug. He
wasn't too bothered. He'd break the acolyte in the end, just like he'd
managed to break everyone else who thought they could match wits with
him.
On that score, though, he had to admit
that it was refreshing to play politics against someone who seemed to
be almost as skilled as himself.
"And I'm not going into the Nethers,
either," Kevin added.
"Into the Nethers?" DuPont pasted a
creditable look of surprise on his face. "What put that idea into your
head, acolyte?"
Kevin, remembering too late that he
wasn't supposed to know, floundered slightly.
"Is that important, sir?" he said.
"Very."
Kevin shrugged and, as usual, said the
first thing that came into his head.
"The intuitive arts, sir. It's my job to
know what you're thinking."
"Hm." DuPont didn't seem convinced, but
let the subject drop. "Alright. Your orders are to proceed into the
Nethers and-"
Kevin snorted, cutting the Vice-Council
off.
"You can't order me to go, sir.
Not alone. Section 11e of the Manifesto states clearly that any
Grammaton agent, Cleric, acolyte or sweeper must be accompanied by
backup on any A&R mission."
"You're not going alone. I'm sending
Andersen with you," DuPont said, watching as the acolyte's smirk
dropped like a lead balloon.
Kevin, trying to act like this was news
to him, shook his head.
"Why him?"
"Because you two are at the top of your
year, therefore the most efficient and most likely to meet with
success."
"So was Preston and a good few other
Clerics. Why don't you send them?"
"I am sending you, acolyte, and
that's an end to the matter. I want you at the gate by seven."
Kevin's eyes snapped open and he half
rolled over, lifting his chronometer from the bedside table and tilting
the face towards him. Six forty am. Shit.
He dropped it and half turned, allowing
the momentum to carry him onto his back again and rested an arm across
his eyes. Thankfully DuPont hadn't turned the light on, but it was
still a little too bright for Kevin's liking.
"You may-" even through closed eyes,
Kevin could see DuPont's distaste "-take those dark glasses you seem so
attached to, if you must."
"Wow. Thanks."
"Sarcasm is not a good idea, acolyte,
particularly around here," DuPont pointed out, a little too coldly for
his warning to seem completely genuine.
"Neither's disgust, sir, but I don't see
you rushing to volunteer yourself for CI." Kevin sat up, yawning, then
reached out for his dark glasses.
There was the unmistakable thwack
of flesh on flesh and Kevin found his hand gripped firmly at the wrist.
"Be very careful, Halls," DuPont said
quietly. "I would hate to see you meet with an accident."
Sure you would, asshole, Kevin
thought acidly. He twisted his wrist slightly, grasping DuPont's and
using it to pull himself to his feet, retrieving his dark glasses and
putting them on before saying, "Thanks."
DuPont eyed him as though he was
something the Vice-Council had dredged up from the bottom of a cesspit,
then said, "Seven o'clock, acolyte. Be there."
He spun on his heel and strode out. If
he hurried, he could beat Halls to the gate and have time to give
Andersen his orders.
Back in his room, Kevin went through
into the small bathroom to clean his teeth. At least DuPont had shut up
about those bloody contact lenses...
Kevin hesitated in the middle of rinsing
his mouth, then spat out the water and frowned. Why would DuPont change
his mind now of all times?
He glanced at the dreaded lenses on the
bathroom shelf. Maybe it was worth taking along a little extra
insurance...
Opening the container, Kevin dropped the
lenses into his eyes, wincing as they started to itch almost
immediately. They'd been surprisingly useful when DuPont had tried
pulling Kevin's shades off, and the acolyte knew from personal
experience that Andersen wasn't above trying the same trick, to say
nothing of any sense offenders that might be hiding out there.
After a minute, he picked up the lens
solution and refilled the small receptacle. It wasn't a particularly
good deception - anyone who opened the case would see immediately that
the lenses weren't inside - and he wasn't even sure if it was a
completely necessary one, but at least it looked like he'd left them
behind. If DuPont was willing to let him wear the dark glasses, fine,
but Kevin wasn't naïve enough to take that at face value. At least if
he got into a fight with Andersen (or any rebels, come to that) he now
had additional protection.
Speaking of rebels, maybe he could work
something out with them...live in the Nethers but squat in the
Underground during raids or something. It wasn't ideal, but it had to
be better than waiting for DuPont to grow bored and have him processed;
he could probably survive well enough outside Libria now.
Kevin, appalled to find himself actually
considering this idea, actually went so far as to slap himself around
the face to try and get back to something approaching reality.
Get a fucking grip! This isn't some dumb novel or movie;
they're not gonna tolerate you just drifting in and out of their lives.
They're gonna want definite proof that they can trust you...give them
that and you're trapped, don't give it them and you're dead. Either way
though, you're definitely fucked.
Still, perhaps he could still live in the
Nethers? Kevin examined the idea for a few minutes, then reluctantly
shoved it on the back burner. It was an appealing thought, but he
seriously didn't like the idea of going out there on his own; even
Andersen was better than nothing. It was a pity Jacobs had gone; Kevin
had had half a mind to sound him out about living outside Libria.
Together, they might just have made it.
He glanced at his chronometer, then
sighed and got to his feet. If he really was going into the Nethers
alone with Andersen at seven, he'd have to get moving. Maybe he could
find a nice sewer or something to throw the other acolyte into while
they were out.
"I don't believe," Andersen said tightly, for what must have
been the hundredth time, "that you forgot the fucking supplies!"
Kevin gritted his teeth.
"Wrong. I remembered them. You
just refused to go back. So unless you happened to lend Jacobs any
before betraying him-"
"Why would I betray Jacobs?" Andersen cut
across.
"Fuck knows you've betrayed me
often enough, or tried to." Kevin shook his head. "Look, I heard DuPont
talking last night. I knew this was coming. He said he was going to
find any pretext to send us out here and then this morning Jacobs is
gone and we're sent to look for him."
"So why are you blaming me?"
"You're DuPont's pet, aren't you?"
Andersen glanced around to make sure
nobody was nearby, then gripped Kevin's collar firmly in one hand and
leaned in.
"Alright. You keep claiming that I can't
pick a fight with you - and that fiasco with DuPont after old Barrett's
execution made that fucking clear! - but I'm telling you once and for
all that I did not have anything to do with your roommate's
disappearance! I'm damned sorry I didn't," he added tersely,
"but you got the wrong guy. Why don't you ask DuPont? He's more to your
taste these days, isn't he?"
Kevin smiled slowly, lazily.
"Oh, now why should I want to do that?"
He broke Andersen's grip with almost no effort and stepped away.
"Andersen, if you think for one minute that I care what you or
DuPont think of me, or that I'm crazy enough to believe you'd help me,
you're even dumber than I first thought, and that is really fucking
saying something."
Andersen sneered.
"You better watch yourself, Halls.
There's no Vice-Council around to drag your butt out of trouble
anymore. Maybe I should have a word or two with DuPont about that; I'm
sure he'd be only too interested, and I'd be more than happy to talk
with him."
I bet you would, you bastard,
Kevin thought grimly. Aloud he said, "Yeah, Andersen. You do that. It
worked out real well last time, didn't it?"
Andersen glowered at him and didn't
answer right away. Kevin smirked, and mentally chalked one up to
himself.
"C'mon, I was willing enough to be
friendly at the beginning of this entire fiasco," he said lightly.
"You call slicing off half my hand friendly?"
Kevin shook his head.
"I'm not going to play the blame game
with you, Andersen. Anyway, you started that fight, not me."
"You weren't supposed to win,"
Andersen grated.
Kevin skirted around a block of rubble,
glancing nervously at it as he spoke and wondering if this was a likely
place for a Resistance ambush.
"You're worried about rebels following
us?" Andersen said suddenly.
Actually, no, Kevin thought
grimly. Not until you suggested it, at least.
"No," he said aloud, not very
convincingly. "To be honest, if Jacobs is off the dose, I'm more
concerned about him trying to kill us. The Resistance don't know kata
from calisthenics; we can deal with them easily enough."
Andersen curled his lip scornfully.
"You expect me to believe you're strong
enough to kill someone you've never met? You couldn't even kill me."
"Correction: could have, didn't.
I wasn't going to give you the satisfaction."
There was a silence. Then Andersen said,
"How the fuck is your killing me supposed to give me a
sense of satisfaction?"
"You don't think DuPont would have let me
live if I had done, do you?" Kevin paused. "Speaking of DuPont-"
"Like you've done anything else
since we got out here?"
"Funny, Andersen. See me laughing?
What's DuPont want us to do with Jacobs if we find him?"
Andersen stopped dead.
"Did you seriously just ask me that
question?"
"Well, if I didn't, there's a
supernatural entity around here that has some explaining to do."
Andersen looked at him blankly. Kevin
could almost hear the rush of air as the comment went over his
yearmate's head and rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I did just ask you that question.
What are we going to do if we find Jacobs?"
There was a short pause, then Andersen
turned to face Kevin fully.
"Well, I don't know; maybe DuPont wants
us to invite him home for tea and crumpets." He snorted. "Shit, Halls,
what do you think we're supposed to do with him? DuPont says he
either came off the dose and fled, or was kidnapped or some such crap.
Either way, he wants him brought back alive." He narrowed his eyes. "So
do like I'm doing and move quietly!"
Kevin rolled his eyes.
"Give me a break, Andersen. You couldn't
move quietly in a fucking vacuum." He paused. "Did DuPont say anything
about...what we do if Jacobs is with the Resistance?"
The other acolyte gave him a sidelong
glance.
"Are you a supporter of the Resistance,
Halls?"
"Not fucking likely," Kevin said,
fervently enough to convince even Andersen. "But I'm not dumb enough to
believe that just the two of us can take on what must amount to over a
thousand people by now either."
Andersen raised his eyebrows.
"Dear me, Halls, anyone would almost
think you were frightened of them. How do you think the Resistance
would take on the Tetra Grammaton, anyway? Do you think that DuPont
would let that happen?"
Kevin honestly had no idea. If the
Resistance did manage to overcome all the odds to succeed...well, he
supposed that at least you'd be able to sneeze without looking over
your shoulder for Grammaton agents, but that didn't mean things would
be better. Certainly not for him; Kevin knew damn well that the
Resistance wasn't exactly friendly towards Clerics, in training or
otherwise.
There's always Jurgen, he thought
suddenly. I helped him out; maybe if the Resistance comes to power
he'll be willing to return the favour.
The acolyte snorted.
Yeah. Right. Jurgen's either dead or forgotten about you
by now. You might as well partner Cleric Preston and overthrow Father
yourself; that has a much better chance of working than relying on some
numb shit of an idealist.
Kevin permitted himself a very slight
smile. Exalt himself in the eyes of the Resistance? What an idea.
What an idea...
He sat down on a pile of rubble, brain
ticking over slowly. About the only way he felt he could trust
the rebels not to stab him in the back would be if he did something so
amazing, so incredibly brave that they'd look stupid if they turned on
him.
What were the benefits of being a Cleric?
You got a certain amount of prestige, certainly, with the additional
possibility of rising to the Council (and oh boy, wouldn't Andersen
just love to make Vice-Council before him) but you also had to
deal out and with death on an almost constant basis, protecting Libria
and the Council. Kevin wasn't too fazed by the thought of killing
anymore, but he was damned if he'd risk his life for the sake of
someone like DuPont. And as for Andersen...well, if any rebel group
wanted to assassinate him, fine. Kevin would even hold the door
open for them.
DuPont. Maybe he could use the
Vice-Council, find out about Father, about his weaknesses.
And then what? Even if you managed to do this crazy
thing, what's going to happen next? You think the Resistance is just
going to roll over and vanish? It's like that ancient computer game;
you can replace one monster with another but there's no guarantee that
the second one's going to be easier to deal with than the first. And on
the subject of monsters, even if you get out of this alive, what do you
think DuPont's going to do next? You don't honestly believe that all
he's done or made you do has been just been one big coincidence, do you?
Kevin stared into space for a few minutes
as he fully understood this for the first time, then groaned.
"How could I be so fucking stupid?"
he grated aloud.
"I've been meaning to ask you that for
years," Andersen said snidely.
"Has DuPont given you any other duties?
Any ones that you'd almost rather die than undergo?"
"Besides ordering me to spend more than
three seconds with you and not rip your eyes from your head and spit in
the fucking sockets? No."
"Just me, then. That's it. He's hoping
I'll crack and ask him to stop, get me on his team that way." Kevin
frowned, half his mind turning rapidly in an effort to work out how he
could turn this to his own advantage while the other half memorised
Andersen's comment about ripping out eyes and spitting in sockets for
future use; it was a good one and he rather liked it.
Did DuPont arrest Jacobs? No, because I'd have seen it
on the log and besides, he's not shy about admitting shit like that.
Besides, if he did, he couldn't have used him as a reason to send us
both out here.
"Alright, fine," he said aloud. He
glanced over at Andersen. "Look. DuPont's been playing us for a couple
of suckers. He wants me to kill you, or you to kill me, or hell, maybe
he wants us both to kill each other." Kevin took a deep breath, bracing
himself.
This is so going to hurt,
he thought grimly.
"If we want to get out of this alive, I
think we're going to have to trust each other."
"I trust you about as far as you can
throw me," Andersen said acidly.
The look on Kevin's face said he'd quite
like to experiment with that idea, and the older acolyte backed away
rapidly. He didn't want to seriously pick a fight; as far as he was
concerned, Halls had gotten too unpredictable.
"The feeling's mutual," Kevin said
tersely.
"Why would DuPont go to all this trouble
when he could order either of us down for processing at any time?"
Kevin shrugged.
"Maybe he wants the strongest player on
his team. I know I bloody would."
Andersen snorted.
"He's already got me, Halls, so why the
fuck would he want you?"
"Possibly because he told me that he
thought you couldn't find your own ass with both hands and map," Kevin
said, a little too politely. "Look, face facts, will you? We've been
set up. Do you really think DuPont would throw two raw acolytes into
the Nethers to deal with a sense offending agent? Doesn't that strike
you as a little odd?"
There was a pause.
"Yeah," Andersen said grudgingly. "We'd
need a shitload of sweepers to deal with it efficiently."
"Exactly. Look at how many came on that
excursion into the Nethers, and that was just a training exercise. But
for apprehending a Grammaton acolyte, DuPont just sends you and me.
Why? Okay, so we're the two highest ranking in the year, but that's no
reason to ignore proper procedure. If we bumped into a sense offending
Cleric, we wouldn't last five minutes."
"Speak for yourself."
Kevin snorted.
"Get real, Andersen. You couldn't even
beat me in that duel. What makes you think you stand a chance against a
fully qualified Cleric?" He paused. "Did DuPont say anything to you?"
"Besides telling me that I could either
visit the Nethers with you or the Palace of Justice with the
technicians?" Andersen said sarcastically. "No. But how good could this
Jacobs guy be?"
Kevin raised his eyebrows.
"Good enough to avoid the sweepers on
the outskirts of Libria and escape into the Nethers. He didn't shoot
them or we'd have found the bodies."
"I'm not talking about fucking
sweepers," Andersen shot back irritably. Like a lot of Grammaton
agents, he regarded sweepers as those who weren't quite as good as the
agents themselves. "I mean how likely is it that I'll beat him?"
"Do the words 'hell' and 'freezing' mean
anything to you?"
Andersen gave Kevin a dirty look,
followed by the finger. Kevin returned the gesture, smirking.
"Your friend was and has been ranked
seventh in our year for the past eight years," Andersen said icily.
"Whether I'm better than you or not-"
"I'm better than you, you mean."
"-has nothing to do with this!"
Andersen went on, raising his voice slightly and ignoring the jibe with
a superhuman effort. "The fact remains that Jacobs was too dumb to
advance further. So let me ask you again; how good could he be?"
Kevin snickered quietly.
"Either pretty good, or very
good. Maybe he decided it was better to stay seventh, make sure he
didn't draw anyone's attention."
There was a short pause.
"Of course, DuPont might have been
indulging in too much fantasy lately," Kevin added.
Andersen stared at him.
"What? How does daydreaming about harems
fit into this?"
"It doesn't," Kevin said after a short,
surprised pause, "but at least now everybody knows what you
daydream about, Andersen. Shit, you're depraved; there's more to
females than cheap sex!"
Andersen glared at him, the viciousness
of his expression and tone unfortunately belied by the colour in his
cheeks. Kevin walked on past and counted to three, then ducked without
looking around; he knew Andersen too well by now. The chunk of rubble
that would have probably split his skull if it had connected went
sailing harmlessly over his head and through an empty window frame.
"Feel better?" he said, without much
sympathy.
The cold steel of a knife against the
back of his neck answered his question. Kevin didn't bother to think;
his reaction was automatic. Flattening himself to the ground, he
twisted over and kicked Andersen hard,
"You're a fucking piece of shit, Halls."
"I'll take that as a yes." Kevin
straightened up. "And you didn't have to try and brain me either."
"You didn't have to duck."
Kevin rolled his eyes.
"You throw a six inch lump of rock at my
head and I'm not supposed to duck? Look, if you're worried I'm
going to blab, don't be. How am I going to work your twisted fantasies
into a normal conversation?" He smirked. "My lips are sealed."
Andersen stared hard at him, muscles
still tense and ready.
"They better be."
"They are," Kevin assured him,
smiling insincerely.
There was a silence.
"Pervert," Kevin added, not quite under
his breath. Andersen whirled.
"I heard that!"
Kevin ran a hand through his hair.
"Look, getting back to what I was
saying, DuPont might have just read one too many EC-10 books. Don't
they always promote the idea of two enemies thrown into a hostile
situation together who wind up as allies at the end of it? Maybe he
wants us both."
A longer silence.
"I agree," Andersen said at the end of
it.
Kevin did a double-take, momentarily
stunned.
"You what?"
"I said I agree with you."
There was a somewhat stunned silence.
"Could I get that in writing?" Kevin
said eventually. Andersen snorted.
"Look, I'm not dumb enough to fly in the
face of so much evidence. In just about every EC-10 work ever written,
the two enemies who wind up together usually do end up as allies."
"...Right." For a minute, Kevin wasn't
sure what else to say. He'd been readying himself for an argument which
had inexplicably failed to materialise, resulting in an irritating
sensation of wrong-footedness.
For a minute, they continued on in
silence, picking their way across the piles of rubble that seemed to
form part and parcel of the Nethers.
"Halls?" Andersen said pleasantly, after
about ten minutes had gone by, "you've forgotten something."
"Yeah?" Now that Andersen wasn't holding
a knife to his throat any more, Kevin didn't see any reason to placate
him or even to be particularly worried. "And what might that be?"
The expression on Andersen's face as he
brought his gun up to point at the other acolyte could best be
described as both ugly and triumphant.
"This is real life."
He fired, and hit Kevin squarely in the
chest.
