(The sequel to "Dizzying
Highs and Abysmal Lows" )
8
Tuesday.
It was business as usual
in the morning, except that Kyra almost forgot Shinai practice. She had
only recently resumed training with Cleric Preston and as she stood in
the changing area adjacent to the Hall of Precision, nerves clawed at
her stomach and froze her fingers. Almost ripping the buttons of her
topcoat open, Kyra strove once more to regain equilibrium. Strangely,
the words of the hymn came back to her, calming her spirit. Balance
restored, she changed into her practice clothes and shrugged on the
light body armour. Shinai firmly in hand, Kyra practically bounced onto
the mats in the central practice area, her focus clear.
If the Cleric was
impressed by her performance, he gave no indication, but neither did he
look at her in a suspect manner, his legendary intuition sparked by
some dose-free error. They squared off, then began the mirror warm-ups
Kyra had always deemed satisfying, but now found most enjoyable. The
routine demanded that she focus on Preston's every movement which
increased in pace and difficulty. Her growing awareness of his
masculinity caused a few wicked thoughts to dally on the fringes of her
concentration, but she chased them away, not without amusement and
settled into the rhythm. She swung the metre long bamboo practice sword
with ease, maintaining a controlled grip on the smooth white handle.
"Remember, Administrator,
this is all about co-ordination, grace and agility."
Preston moved towards her,
demonstrating his mastery of all three. Kyra backed off, raising the
Shinai.
"Attack exists in defence
and defence exists in attack," she quoted.
"Indeed... and you must
strive to be both spontaneous and dynamic."
And with that, they began
alternate strikes to the three target areas of head, arms and body. If
she could get anywhere near, there was the also thrust to the throat.
Kyra knew the Cleric could probably do this with his eyes closed, but
she appreciated the dedication he showed to developing her skill. Her
footwork was much improved and she worked diligently to refine her
technique. It was the discipline of combining the mind, the body and
the sword. Between sets, Kyra reflected on whether she could ever wield
a real Katana.
They were about to
dispense with the body armour to finish with a few Katas, when Preston
caught her eye and led her gaze to a pillar, where one of the Proctors
was standing in the shadows, observing them. He paced across to the
official, listened briefly, then turned and spoke to Kyra, his voice
betraying mild surprise.
"The Proctor wishes to
speak to you, Administrator."
He nodded to them both and
headed off to the changing area, relieving Kyra of her Shinai on the
way. Kyra quickly stripped off the armour and with some curiosity,
crossed the black floor to the little man. Proctors were the guardians
of Librian protocol in the Tetragrammaton. They interpreted the Law and
made it accessible to others (well, technically). They also acted as
intermediaries for the Council Members, none of whom Kyra had ever met.
"I am Proctor Van Leder,"
he announced. Kyra wondered mischievously if he expected her to bow.
She acknowledged him with a brief nod.
"What may I do to assist
you, Proctor?"
"Vice-Council DuPont
requests your attendance in his office, Administrator."
"I assume I have time to
change, Proctor? It would be inappropriate for me to appear before the
Vice-Council incorrectly attired."
That was partially true,
but Kyra needed time to compose herself. What could DuPont possibly
want with her? He was a senior Council Member. He was Father's Voice!
"Of course,
Administrator," the Proctor was saying, "I shall wait here."
Kyra dressed carefully,
breathing steadily. She was turning to leave when the now familiar rush
of panic overtook her. Oh, God! What if she had to take a polygraph?
Could she fool it? She probably had a better chance of beating Preston
in a gunfight! As that somewhat amusing scenario played in her head,
she reasoned that there was no point in worrying about something over
which she had no control.
9
Kyra was abnormally aware
of the sound of her footsteps on the polished floors as she made her
way through the silent upper halls of the Palace of Justice, preceded
by the Proctor and flanked by security guards. Although her heart was a
hammer against the panel of her ribs, she was confident her face was a
mask. The Proctor and the guards seemed to melt away as she approached
a vast black, panelled door, which swung open to admit her.
"Please come in,
Administrator Flynn."
Vice-Council DuPont, of
the Third Councillary of the Tetragrammaton, did not rise from his seat
behind the impressive black granite desk. He steepled his fingers and
brought them to his lips, observing her minutely from beneath hooded
eyes. Kyra thought him cobra-like, imagining herself as prey. She
walked carefully forward, halting in the pool of light spilling from
the vast illuminated globe of the post –Upheaval world and waited,
hands respectfully behind her back.
"Have you any idea why you
are here?" DuPont raised his head slightly.
"No, Sir," answered Kyra,
quite truthfully. "I was summoned. I came."
"Good. Good. I have had
excellent reports of your commitment and dedication to your work,
Administrator. It appears that once you are given a problem, you
persevere until it is entirely solved. You are capable of acting
independently, with both expediency and intelligence."
"Thank you, Sir. I do my
best, Sir." Aware that the Vice-Council's eyes had not deviated from
her since her arrival, Kyra remained still, perfectly balanced.
Seconds passed. DuPont
inhaled sharply and rose up from the oversized chair. He approached
her, standing uncomfortably close, still not averting his gaze, whilst
Kyra maintained her position, her own eyes fixed on the great T-shaped
opening at the far end of the office. When he finally spoke, she could
feel his breath on her neck. Sheer nerve and a profound dread of
immolation ensured she didn’t flinch.
"I have a extremely
important task for you, Administrator Flynn. It will require all your
analytical skills and the utmost discretion. Can I depend upon you?"
"Yes, of course,
Vice-Council. I am at your service, Sir."
"Good. Good. In your
report of the raid in Sector 15, two months ago, and also in
yesterday’s report for Sector 5, you noted discussions on a possible
informer within the Tetragrammaton itself, who may have links to the
neo-militant group operating in both the City and the Nethers. How did
you feel about that?"
"I'm not sure I fully
understand, Sir, but I will admit that I was disturbed at the prospect
of a potential traitor." Kyra wondered how she was managing to sound so
calm. She concluded it was probably due to extreme terror.
The Vice-Council appeared
to be satisfied with her answer. He returned to his chair and extracted
a small wallet from one of the drawers.
"Excellent. I want you to
find this traitor, Administrator. Use whatever means necessary to bring
him to justice. You will carry the full authority of this Office and
all that entails." He held out the wallet, emblazoned with the symbol
of the Tetragrammaton, which Kyra immediately stepped forward to take.
DuPont fixed his eyes on her once more. "Obviously you will be relieved
of your Cleric duties, for the time being...is that a problem,
Administrator?"
DuPont's tone altered
slightly with the question. Kyra knew she must have reacted somehow to
his decision regarding the Clerics. The Vice-Council was incredibly
dangerous and once again she reminded herself of how precarious her
existence now was. She shook her head, acutely aware of the proximity
of the guards.
"No, not at all, Sir. I
was just wondering if I had left anything of importance outstanding,
that's all." She forced herself to meet his incisive gaze. He regarded
her for a brief moment, but the look held no accusation.
"Ah! Always the
perfectionist, Administrator! Then I will keep you from your task no
longer." He returned his attention to the file in front of him,
dismissing her.
10
"...and so I've been
temporarily reassigned. I hope this doesn't cause you too much
inconvenience, Clerics." Kyra felt duty bound to explain to Preston and
Partridge why she wouldn't be available. It never occurred to her that
they shouldn't be fully informed of her assignment.
"If we can be of
assistance," remarked Preston, "You have only to ask."
"Absolutely," added
Partridge, slightly too eagerly. "It's certainly in our best interests
to find this informant." The double meaning didn't escape Kyra.
Preston returned to his
desk and began reviewing the interrogation schedules for the offenders
from the Sector 5 raid. Partridge walked with Kyra to the steps and
beyond to a side exit of the Hall of Enforcement, reiterating his
willingness to help. Something in his tone gave away his concern and
Kyra was momentarily irritated that he should demonstrate such a lack
of faith in her abilities. She told him so.
"I have every faith in
your abilities, that's the problem," Partridge replied quietly,
glancing around to ensure they couldn't be overheard. "If anyone can
get to the bottom of this, you can. It's just...you have to be careful.
Dupont's not stupid. He's hoping you'll turn up more than the informer.
We have too much to lose, Kyra, just...just be careful."
At that precise moment,
the missing pieces of a puzzle which had been subconsciously troubling
Kyra for weeks, slotted perfectly into place like the great steel doors
of the City’s inner walls. The revealed truth shocked her into silence,
leaving her exposed and afraid. She stared at Partridge, unblinking,
until he shut his eyes against the unspoken accusation.
When Kyra finally found
her voice, it was raw with betrayal. "When, exactly, were you going to
tell me? What were you going to do? Just suddenly slip it into the
conversation one day... "Oh, by the way Kyra, I'm part of the
Underground." All that hugging and listening to soul-stirring music,
what was that all about? Did you drop me at the Complex then go off and
blow up a Prozium clinic? I...I...don't think I know you anymore."
Paralysed by hurt and anger, Kyra folded her arms, her pained eyes
daring Partridge to refute the statement.
Instead of receiving a
solicitous, apologetic reply, Kyra suddenly found herself gripped
firmly by the elbow and propelled towards a relatively private area to
the side of the building, where the late afternoon shadows conspired to
camouflage them.
"For Libria's sake, Kyra,
you’re in a position to make a difference. Don't you want to help
others? Revolutions only succeed if people are willing to take risks!"
The Cleric's voice was
filled with a passion she found highly disconcerting. She was still
coming to terms with the concept of his having a physical relationship
with a woman. This was all far too much for her to assimilate.
"It's...it's not that.
It's just...," Kyra struggled to articulate her feelings. "It's so
dangerous...the chances of being caught are far too great."
"I understand, believe me,
I do. But I think you're stronger than you know. I know it's a cliché,
but sometimes you have to make a stand. You're not naive, Kyra...when
you ceased your interval, you became an offender, just like me, just
like the people the Tetragrammaton sends to the furnaces every day.
Hiding behind your position and trying to lead a ‘normal’ existence is
sheer hypocrisy, and one thing I know about you, is that you're no
hypocrite!"
The vehemence of his words
punched through Kyra's already weakened defences. Intellectually, she
recognised the validity of his argument and the direction in which it
was leading her. Still, she craved something more.
"But is it worth it? All
the deception...for what, the chance to read a few dusty books of
poetry?" Kyra knew she was stalling, poised on the edge, unwilling to
take the final step. She looked up at the Cleric. His reply was simple.
"For the chance to feel."
Kyra was aware that her
mental standpoint was beginning to crumble. Partridge nodded as he saw
the sea-change reflected in her eyes. His next words were merely a
whisper.
"For the chance to love
and be loved."
The edge of denial
collapsed entirely, sending Kyra tumbling into the abyss of acceptance.
Yet, far from being swept away on an emotional tide of self-revelation,
she felt anchored by a great sense of clarity and purpose. Smoothing
her topcoat, she straightened her posture and replied in a deliberate
tone.
"The identification and
apprehension of the neo-militant informer is paramount. It will require
considerable time and attention to detail." She briefly raised her
eyebrows in amusement at Partridge's initially shocked expression, then
continued more conversationally when finally he realised she was
baiting him, "What I'm saying is...I have to sort this out first,
alright? Once he's a pile of ashes, then I can join your resistance
movement. Until then, I need to be the Vice-Council’s detective. Just
keep me out of it for a while. Are you OK with that?"
"Of course I am. I'll
admit you had me going for a second there...but I suppose I deserved
it. Anyway, even though I'm sure the Vice-Council wouldn't appreciate
it, we need this insider nailing just as much as he does." He paused
for a moment, then, with difficulty, appeared to reach a decision.
"Look...there's more at stake than you realise. There's...something I
have to do, so I need to give you a name. If...if anything happens, you
at least need this. Jurgen. Remember that."
Further discussion was
frustrated by the appearance of Enforcement troops on their regular
patrol. Partridge managed a brief smile before going back into the
building. It was last time Kyra was to see him.
Day III - Wednesday 
