Equilibrium Fan Fiction by Judas Austin Taking Sides 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20   Lisa got a week's suspension. Lisa got a week's suspension. Lisa got a week's suspension. It's no good; it looks just as bad however I put it. What makes matters worse is that I'm finding it very hard to be angry or upset about this. No, it's not some lingering residue of Prozium, not after five weeks off that crap. It's because if that little turd Kirkley behaves in class like he did on the phone to me, I think I just might have shot his precious award to pieces myself. That aside, where the hell would Lisa and these other 'two unnamed' get a damn welding torch from?! I mean, it's hardly standard educational equipment for the under sixteens! Well, except for that incident with the five year old and the metalwork class, and I always said there was something screwy about that kid anyway. Seriously, though, I wonder what's going on with Lisa. There was never any kind of trouble like this before. Of course, she happened to be doped to the gills on Prozium before, which probably had a lot to do with it. Jurgen didn't help either, arriving when he did. I swear that man has bad timing down to an art form. It usually gets so you agree to anything just to cut the visit as short as possible. I'm sure he does it on purpose, although perhaps it might not be a good idea to let him read this entry just yet. In the hierarchy of things, I'm not sure who ranks higher—if either of us actually does, that is—but I'm taking no chances. —John Preston, Grammaton Cleric First Class   Preston pushed open the door and stepped back into the living room. Lisa was still sitting there on the sofa, although Animal was now sprawled across her lap contentedly, lying on its back while Lisa almost absentmindedly rubbed its belly. Nobody, not even Cleric Richardson, who was arguably the most knowledgeable about things from pre-Libria, knew exactly what made one of Animal's back legs pump quite so vigorously when this attention was performed, but it seemed harmless enough. Preston had to admit, he was secretly starting to worry about Animal. How much bigger was the damn thing going to get? It was already almost up to his knees and its growth spate didn't show any signs of slowing down yet. "You might want to get off right about now," Jurgen advised Animal, who gave him a long look, then rolled over onto its feet and padded over to its bed. Just how much Librian did Animal understand? Preston found himself wondering, then dismissed the thought irritably. That wasn't important right now. He had other matters to attend to. Preston gave Lisa a look that he'd perfected years ago, a look that had cowed more sense offenders than he could remember. Lisa wasn't cowed exactly, but she did lose a lot of her defiance. Still keeping his eyes trained firmly on hers, Preston spoke. "Welded?" "It wasn't just me, it was—" "Welded?" "It was all—" "Welded?" Lisa gave up. "Yes." "I realise I may regret asking this," Preston said, in the heavy tones of one who already is, "but just where did you find a welding torch in the classroom?" "Sandy's brother works in the assembly lines. He lent her his." "And you welded the desk shut and the instructor's chair to the floor," Preston said. It wasn't a question. Lisa nodded slowly, once. "Yes." Preston closed his eyes. "Was this before or after you melted his award?" he said tersely. Jurgen coughed suddenly, a cough that sounded very much like it was trying to conceal a laugh. Preston opened his eyes long enough to glare at him. "You're not helping," he informed the other man tightly. Jurgen at least had the grace to colour slightly. "Really, if you want, I can come back later—" "No, it's alright," Preston said bitingly, overriding him. "Knowing you, you'll do it when the place has just caught fire or some equally convenient time." He glanced back at Lisa. "Well?" "'Bout the same time," Lisa said, with a slight shrug. "The award thing wasn't intentional; it just sorta happened." Preston paced the small living room restlessly, then turned to glare at Lisa, who quailed as if his gaze had been red-hot. Watching her, Jurgen almost felt sorry for the girl. Preston's temper was no joke, and while Jurgen knew full well that Preston would never raise a hand to his own daughter, the verbal discipline would probably more than compensate. "Dare I ask why you did this crazy thing?" the Cleric said, in a tone that bordered on the dangerous. Lisa squirmed and mumbled something too low for Preston to discern. "I beg your pardon?" he said, his tone now one of icy politeness. "I was bored," Lisa said, a little too loudly this time. It wasn't the lamest excuse Preston had ever heard—the sense offender who'd claimed he thought Prozium was optional had won that somewhat dubious honour—but it came pretty close. "You were bored," Preston repeated. "I see…" "I was. Kirkley only really pays attention to those really smart kids. Every time he moved around he'd knock the chair or desk slightly and the noise was really getting on my nerves. So I just did it to give us some peace. It's easier to study when it's quiet as well," she added. Several words fought for control of Preston's vocal chords at this, not all of them complimentary. Jurgen watched, not without some amusement. It wasn't often he got to see the Cleric rendered speechless. "That's never made any difference before," Preston managed finally. "Regardless of noise, your study levels have gone down faster than a sense offender in the Tetra Grammaton!" "Interesting analogy," Jurgen remarked. "Tasteless, but interesting." Preston turned a killing stare on him. "Would you care to contribute to this family discussion, Jurgen?" "Not at all," Jurgen said fervently. "Then kindly shut your mouth!" Preston returned his attention to Lisa, who met his gaze squarely, having had a little more time to steel herself. "Kirkley overreacted," she said calmly. "He's just an infirm old man who couldn't teach an offender to feel. You said so yourself." Preston grimaced slightly. He had said so during a careless moment and not only that, he had thought so as well. "I'm not the one he's teaching," he pointed out sharply. "Nor am I for the next week," Lisa returned smartly, not missing a beat. Jurgen plastered a hand over his mouth, trying to turn the treacherous laugh into a cough at the sight of Preston's expression. "Would you like a drink of water?" Preston asked him, a little too politely. Jurgen nodded, not trusting himself to speak and headed through to the kitchenette. Lisa glanced at Preston, then took advantage of his momentary distraction to leap to her feet, darting behind the Cleric and out the front door, slamming it behind her hard enough to make it rattle in its frame. "Lisa, get back—" Preston began, then stopped. Yelling might make him feel better, but it wouldn't help the situation. Jurgen opened his mouth to make a comment about his own childless situation that, given Preston's current frame of mind, would not only have ended their friendship but probably reduced his chances of fatherhood for a good few weeks into the bargain, when Robbie opened the front door and Jurgen closed his mouth again, his thoughts unspoken. "Hi John," Robbie said, in the tones of one who has had a perfect day and wants to find someone to tell about it. He caught sight of Preston's expression and abruptly reversed direction. "Okay. Bye John." "Where are you going?" Preston demanded. "Down to the Archives. Richardson could probably use a hand on some of those old data storage cartridges." "Vidyos," Jurgen supplied, in the patient ones of one who is going to keep on making a point until everyone around takes notice of it. "Vidyos, then," Robbie said, stressing the first word ever so slightly. "The guys down there reckon they might have found a way to make them work or at least work out what's on them. I'll see you later." "If you run into your sister, tell her to get herself home right now," Preston said sharply. Robbie smirked slightly. "You found out about Lisa's little incident, did you?" "Damn right I—wait a minute." Preston stared. "How did you know?" Robbie looked faintly surprised. "Well…she brought a note back two days ago. She made me swear not to show it to you, but I figured you must already have found out." "Where is it?" Robbie looked a little shifty. "I promised I wouldn't tell." "Fine." Preston stood up abruptly. "I'll find it for myself." Robbie shrugged. "Can I go now?" "Yeah, alright. Dinner's at sev—" Preston started to add, but the closing door cut him off midsentence. He shook his head irritably. "I don't know what's come over those two lately." "I think it's called 'feeling'," Jurgen remarked easily. "I'm 'feeling', Jurgen, but that doesn't make me act like I'm insane." Then what does? Jurgen thought, but didn't dare say. Some days it was safe to joke around with Preston, but something inside him said that this wasn't one of those days. Instead he shrugged. "Then at a rough guess, I'd say: one, they haven't lived as long under Prozium as you have, two, they came off the dose some four and a half years ago and three, unlike you, they weren't raised by the Tetra Grammaton." Preston gave his friend a long, appraising look. "You really did find out all about me before I joined your team, didn't you? Did Partridge tell you?" "Yes." There was a pause. "I never got around to asking; why did you come here?" Preston said suddenly. Jurgen blinked. "So you don't believe this is a social visit?" "I don't. I also don't believe that you have any more idea what's meant by a 'social visit' any more than I have, and even if you did, I don't believe you'd pay one to me of all people." "Ever the sceptic, aren't you?" Jurgen said wryly. "Cut the small talk, Jurgen. What do you want?" Jurgen started to ask what made Preston think he wanted anything, then caught sight of the Cleric's expression and had second, third and fourth thoughts about doing so. "There is something you might be able to help with…" Preston eyed him narrowly. "Last time you said something like that to me, I ended up having to overthrow an entire government by myself." "Ah." Jurgen grimaced. "Yes. That's partly the reason I'm here." Preston's hand froze momentarily in reaching for his glass, then he picked it up and took a swallow of water. "Go on…" he said warily. "It turns out that…how should I say this?" "In Librian and out loud," Preston said bitingly. "Otherwise, I've no preference." "Yes…" Jurgen eyed him askance for a minute, not entirely sure whether the Cleric was joking. Eventually he decided he'd better not risk it. "I was talking to Cleric Rossiter this morning—you know him?" "No, but go on." Jurgen nodded. He wasn't particularly surprised; back in the old Libria, Clerics knew their respective partners and rarely, if ever, spoke to other Clerics. "It turns out that…well…the downfall of Father and the government might have been…shall we say, slightly premature? It might have been better if we'd waited a little." Preston stared at him. "Well, it's a bit bloody late to tell me that now!" Jurgen shook his head. "That's not quite what I mean. But…the government's gone, Father's gone, the whole of the Tetra Grammaton with the exceptions of you and three other Clerics is out for our blood." "Is this to do with the, ah, 'Second Resistance'?" "Not yet," Jurgen said, in a tone Preston couldn't help feeling was needlessly ominous, considering. The Second Resistance was comprised of those who refused to give up Prozium, ie, the Tetra Grammaton and, at last estimation, some hundred or so civilians. Of these, only the Clerics themselves were any real cause for concern, and even they hadn't been any problem lately. "Then what is it?" Preston demanded, his patience starting to wear thin. Jurgen glanced over his shoulder, purely out of habit, and leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. "There was a murder in sector nineteen last night." Preston sat back, stunned. "A murder," he repeated slowly. "Yeah. Some guy called A. Matthews was found lying dead in his kitchen. He'd been shot in the head and stabbed sixteen times. We think." "You think," Preston said hollowly. "Well, either he was stabbed sixteen times or stabbed eight times so vigorously that the blade came out the other side," Jurgen said, with almost frightening composure. "We knew this was going to happen sooner or later, but nobody really thought it would be today. Rossiter was the one who found the body." A slight grimace crossed Jurgen's face. "He didn't seem best pleased." "Quite possibly," Preston said automatically, whilst reflecting that A. Matthews probably wasn't too chuffed about it either, "but what exactly do you want me to do about it?" "We need…some kind of law enforcement. With the Tetra Grammaton against us, we've no way of policing ourselves." Preston nodded wearily. "Let me guess. Send in the Clerics." "Pretty much. Oh, don't look like that—" Preston was glaring at him "—Robbie told me you spent most of yesterday complaining about how bored you were." "I did not say I was bored; I said that this was a change from what I used to do with the Tetra Grammaton!" "Yes. According to Robbie, you then went on to say that you wished the Tetra Grammaton would break into your place, if only to give you something to do." "I was being sarcastic." "We've had reports that the Tetra Grammaton might be trying to send a spy into our midst. I want to find out who it is and…" "…exterminate them," Preston finished. Jurgen snorted. "Still thinking like a Cleric, aren't you, Preston?" "I happen to be a—" "No, I don't think extermination will be necessary unless they prove too dangerous to be allowed to survive. I think we can just hold them until the Prozium wears off. Everyone we can get, even sweepers, will help." Preston raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly believe that the Tetra Grammaton would send a sweeper on a mission like that? If it was me, I'd send in a Cleric." "Good," Jurgen said easily. "Then you can understand exactly why I want you for this mission. You'll know what to look for better than anyone else I've got." Preston narrowed his eyes, then abruptly sighed. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?" "No." "Fine," Preston said resignedly. "I'm guessing you can't send any of the other three for some reason." "Sorry," Jurgen said ruefully. "Richardson's busy working in the Archives, Rossiter's working on this murder thing and Halls is—" Preston's head snapped up. "Halls?" he echoed sharply. Jurgen sighed, a sigh that had a touch of irritation in it. "I don't know what you have against Cleric Halls," he said testily. Halls was one of the few things that he and Preston had never agreed on. "Robbie told me you said he reminded you of your partner." "I was talking about Brandt," Preston said, biting the word off at the end and making a mental note to have a little father-son chat with Robbie about the finer points of discretion. Jurgen—perhaps wisely—kept his mouth shut, much to Preston's relief. The truth was, he didn't know why he'd taken against Halls so much. He thought it might be because the other Cleric was a little too good to be true. Oh really? a little voice inside him whispered. Was that a hint of jealousy in your tone, Cleric Preston?   Preston considered this briefly, then told the little voice to take a long walk off a short ledge and dismissed the notion as plain irrational. He'd never been jealous of anyone before—on or off Prozium—and he didn't think he was likely to start now. "You don't honestly expect me to be able to walk back into the Tetra Grammaton, do you?" he said bitingly. "I'd be put down before I managed to get the door open." "You killed Father," Jurgen pointed out. "Father was expecting me! A little too well," Preston added under his breath, remembering that particular mission. Jurgen shook his head. "No, I don't expect you to return to the Tetra Grammaton. I want you to keep an eye on all new arrivals into this complex. Since it's home to a lot of the most prominent members of the First Resistance, I think it's going to be the first place they send someone." "You want me to hunt spies," Preston said tonelessly. "We've worked too hard to get to this, Preston! We can't risk losing everything because of one man!" Preston wondered idly if Brandt and DuPont had ever had this kind of conversation. "Just until all this is over," Jurgen added. "It probably won't come to anything." "You and I know damn well that's not true," Preston said bitingly. Jurgen nodded. "Yes. Like I said, that's why I need you to be there if it does." Preston sighed, massaging his temples. Since meeting Jurgen, it seemed like he got a lot of headaches. Aloud he said, "Alright. Fine. I don't know how you expect me to succeed in any of this, or what you expect me to find, but I'll keep tabs on anyone coming in and going out while the other Clerics do their jobs." Jurgen shrugged, slightly apologetically. "I can't spare any of the other Clerics. And—don't take this the wrong way—but the others don't have children taking up half their time." "Yeah. Lucky them. You know, I think I liked Lisa better when she was on Prozium," Preston muttered. "Don't look at me that way—" Jurgen's eyes were condemning "—it's true! I'm not saying I'd go back to how things used to be, but…oh hell, I don't know!" Jurgen snorted. "I do. That's why I've stayed single all this time." There was a sudden scraping sound from outside, followed by the sound of footsteps rapidly dwindling down the corridor. Preston let rip with a few choice expletives that Jurgen hadn't even known existed and crossed over to the front door. "What is it?" Jurgen said, already on his feet, all levity gone. "There's some bastard around here that thinks it's funny to etch obscene messages in and around my front door," Preston said tightly. "I've lost count of the number of times I've had to get someone out to redo it. I'm thinking of taking up a home-study course myself; it would probably work out cheaper." "Ah. Yes, Halls and Rossiter have had similar problems." "Do tell." Preston opened the door and stepped out, looking around with a slight frown. "What does it say?" Preston came back in and shut the door, looking slightly puzzled. "Nothing. There's nothing there." "Maybe he heard us inside." "Maybe," Preston answered, in tones which said he personally wouldn't believe it if he saw it displayed on a blimp. Jurgen shrugged. "I shouldn't worry about it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a displayer. "I'm not," Preston said matter-of-factly. He nodded towards the displayer. "What's that for?" "Oh, I took the liberty of collating a few records," Jurgen said, somewhat nonchalantly. He flicked the device on and he and Preston watched as the three dimensional hologram appeared above it. Intent, all business now, the Cleric leaned forward, a slight frown on his face. Neither of them gave the footsteps a second thought. Chapter 3 >>> more Equilibrium Fan Fiction