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 How stupid can a person be?? What the hell caused me to spout that old line? "I'm Tetra Grammaton; there's nothing I can't do". Hah! Right. Nice going, Preston. Now half of New Libria's going to think you're a double agent. Having said that, I'm not sure why, since it was me who overturned Father's regime in the first place. Then again, maybe they think that was all some trick, or that I'm back working for the Tetra Grammaton. Again, how stupid can a person be? And I finally met Cleric Rossiter. Big deal. The guy seems incapable of thinking for himself, at least, without the help of his sidearms. Still, I wish either he or Halls had opened fire on the other…or better yet, I wish Halls had opened fire on me. That would have worked out quite nicely, though not for him, of course. I just remembered; I never did get around to asking Richardson about this book thing, and I'm not going to get another chance for some time now. Damn! Actually, perhaps it worked out for the best. I don't know why, but I don't want any more people reading this than there absolutely have to be. I'm not even keen on letting Jurgen have a look, even though he was the one who ordered me to do this in the first place. Halls. Halls, Halls, Halls, Halls, Halls. I'm getting more and more problems spring up and they all seem to trace back to that guy. I took a quick walk down his corridor after I left him. I wanted to search his apartment, but with so many people hanging around, that idea was grounded before it even took off. Oh well. At least I can get into his files. I wish I knew what he meant by 'who has their knife into me'. Okay, so I'm a Cleric and therefore not the most popular guy in New Libria. But if it wasn't too crazy to even contemplate, I'd be prepared to swear that guy was trying to warn me. Ha! Right! Thanks, Halls, but if anyone's crazy enough to think they can take down a Grammaton Cleric with no trouble, they've got another think coming. —John Preston, Grammaton Cleric First Class Preston stared at what was on the screen, and then tapped in the request again.   Same result.  He tried a third time ENTER SEARCH STRING:>>HALLS, Kevin_ and pressed Enter. NO RECORD OF INPUT INSUFFICIENT DATA TOP SECURITY CLEARANCE ONLY ENTER SEARCH STRING:>>_ That didn't make any sense.  First of all, he knew he had top security clearance.  There was no record or data that he wasn't permitted to see.  Secondly, just typing in the name had turned up results for Rossiter and Kernachan, so where the hell did this thing get off saying 'Insufficient Data'?? And if there was no input, why was it specified for top security clearance? Preston sighed. His head was starting to throb, and he wondered irritably how long it had been since he last got a decent night's sleep. Since Lisa had left two days ago, Preston's irritation at the inconvenience had rapidly dispersed into worry. One last try, he thought grimly, and then I think I'll pay Jurgen a little visit and persuade him to let me see his copy. He keyed in Halls' name again and hit Enter. This time, what came up wasn't an error message, but it damn well wasn't what he wanted either. Nice try, Preston. I know it's you snooping around in my file; Jurgen already has a printed copy of my records and nobody else who wants to find out about me has the clearance. As you can see, I took the liberty of inserting a few bugs to delay you long enough for me to relocate the files and insert this message in their place. If you're really determined, why don't you go and ask Jurgen yourself? I'm sure he'll be happy to help. In the meantime, I'd concentrate more on, shall we say, current events? And speaking of which, I got those samples back from Richardson an hour or so ago, and his results told me all I needed to know. So if you want the Matthews job, take it. I'm done with that particular case. Oh, one more thing before I sign off. Next time you want to know something about me, at least have the courage to tell me to my face. No more of this sneaking around behind my back, hmm? I really expected better of you. Preston narrowed his eyes. Jurgen be damned; if Halls said anything like that to his face, the whole of New Libria would soon find out which of the two Clerics was really a master of Gun-Kata. The knock on the door only served to add to Preston's already bad headache. "Shit," he muttered, then crossed over to the door and opened it. "Jurgen, if you've come to complain about my booting Rossiter off the Matthews case, do it elsewhere. I'm busy." "Cleric Preston?" Preston blinked. "What? I mean…yeah, that's me. Sorry. I thought you were…never mind." What the hell is wrong with me?? he wondered. "What can I do for you?" The woman in the corridor smiled, somewhat nervously, eyes downcast. "I've been reassigned to this sector. Jurgen told me to report to you and…I was hoping you could tell me where Corridor 9 is." "Of course." Preston fingered the collar of his uniform, which seemed to have gone from being snug and secure to uncomfortably tight all of a sudden. "Just…give me a minute." "If it's a bad time, I can come back later." "Oh no. No, it's fine; I was just…it's no problem. Really." Get a hold of yourself, Preston! he thought furiously. The woman smiled a little, almost as if she'd heard the thought. "Actually, I was just going that way myself," Preston said. "If you want, I could, uh, show you." It wasn't really a lie, he told himself; he did want to talk to Jurgen about Halls' little message, and since Jurgen lived in Corridor 1, which was in completely...the…opposite… Preston grimaced and decided he'd better stop that train of thought right there. "That would be great," the woman said, smiling at him, an expression that jolted through Preston like a thousand volts of electricity. She was attractive—no, more than that, Preston amended; she was beautiful. Like Mary had been, but in a completely different way. Crystal blue eyes with mauve tinted lids and that kind of auburn hair that looks copper in the right light, just long enough to brush her shoulders. A few stray tendrils lingered around her face, and Preston had to resist the sudden urge to brush them back into place. "One moment," he said hastily, and ducked back indoors. There were times when he really wished the Tetra Grammaton had covered something like this in basic training, if only with a view to espionage, or to assassination, or to whatever they damn well pleased so long as it would have given him some idea of how to react. He grabbed hold of a few sheets of paper from the printer, folded them over and turned back, realising with an inward groan that he'd just slammed the door in his visitor's face. Damn! Preston paused to take a few deep breaths and try and compose himself. Was it really possible that something could happen so quickly? Maybe he was just a little too pleased to find someone who could actually talk to him as a person. He opened the door, then almost tripped over Animal, who had come bounding forwards to greet this new person, then stopped abruptly on the threshold. "Will you get out the way?" Preston demanded irritably. The woman looked startled. "Who, me?" "What? Oh...no, not you; this thing down here." She glanced down, and Preston caught sight of the distaste that flickered over her expression. Ah. "Animal, get back inside," he ordered. Animal ignored him, focusing instead on his visitor. Judging from its demeanor, greeting was not its intention. In fact, if Preston didn't know better, he'd be prepared to swear it was threatening her. "It's alright, he's really quite friendly," Preston said, in defiance of current evidence. "Usually," he muttered, then bent down, scooped Animal into the air and deposited him rather unceremoniously in the living room, slamming the door. If the expression on the woman's face was anything to go by, it was obvious she was on the verge of going on her own. "I'm...not keen on animals," she said flatly. "No?" Preston was surprised. Just about every sense offender he'd encountered (and certainly the ones in his sector) was enamored with them. The waiting list for an animal was almost as long as that for storage space in the basements. "Absolutely not. I've heard of people being torn apart by those things." Preston, who had heard similar stories and not given them much credence even when he'd still been on Prozium, shrugged noncommittally. "Well...that's up to you, of course. You might change your mind later on." There was a look in the woman's eyes that said she didn't think so, somehow, but she kept quiet as they set off. "By the way," Preston said after about ten minutes, keeping his tone studiously neutral, "I don't think I ever got your name." For a minute he thought she wasn't going to answer, then she seemed to reach an inward decision. "Tercheron." "No, I mean your first name." Catching sight of her startled glance, Preston hastened to explain. "For the files, I mean." She smiled slightly, a soft expression that was subtly different from those that Preston was used to. "Kia." "Nice," Preston commented. Kia... "So...you know, if you—" he began. "Preston?" Preston stopped with a grimace and inward curse. Trust Jurgen and his impeccable sense of timing. Much as he liked the man, at that moment he could quite happily have shot him. "Oh...hi," he said unenthusiastically. "Hi," Jurgen answered evenly. "Halls said you had something very urgent to discuss with me." Preston threw a blazing stare at the other Cleric, who was smirking slightly. "It can wait," he said. "No, really, that's alright." Kia stepped forward. "Thanks for your help, Cleric. I can find my way from here." "Are you sure?" "Positive. I've taken up too much of your time already. I wasn't aware you had a meeting scheduled." Neither was I five minutes ago, Preston thought bitterly. Aloud he said, "Well...if you're sure..." "Positive. It was nice meeting you." "Yeah...you too..." Preston said. He was feeling unaccountably dazed. Kia turned and walked on down the corridor, and Preston turned to glower at Jurgen. "Let me just point out here and now that this had better be a life-or-death situation!" he said icily. "Because if not, it damn soon will be!" Jurgen blinked. "Halls said you were looking for me." "And since when does Halls track my every move?" "Since he saw you find that bug in the system," Halls answered impassively. "That was no damn bug and you know it!" "Oh, I know. I told Jurgen I didn't think you ought to bother him about it, and I still don't." "Let me give you a little piece of advice, Halls," Preston said frostily. "In this kind of situation, there's a very simple rule. I think. You don't." "Believe me, Preston, you don't want to do this." "Could make things a little awkward for you, couldn't it?" Preston sniped. "Oh no," Halls said quietly. "Not for me." Preston glanced at Jurgen. "Can I speak to you about something? In private?" he added, with a not-so-subtle glare at the other Cleric. "What about?" Jurgen said, a slight edge to his tones. "I'd really rather not discuss it out here." "You wouldn't say that if I wasn't around," Halls cut in, that maddening hint of a smirk still on his face. "Then get out!" Preston said sharply. "Did you bring me down here just to watch you two have a slanging match?" Jurgen demanded of Halls. "I didn't bring you anywhere." Halls glanced at Preston. "I'm going to say this one more time. Forget the bug." "Get out," Preston said, his voice now low and threatening. He was almost shaking with rage. He couldn't remember ever being this angry. "Get out of my sight. Now, before I do something you'll regret." "I doubt he'll regret it half as much as you will, Preston," Jurgen said flatly. "He'll be dead." "My point exactly." Briefly, Preston wondered just what Jurgen meant by that, then decided he'd rather not know. "I'm going," Halls said calmly. Clearly Preston's tone hadn't worried him in the slightest. "Just remember what I said when the time comes, Preston. You don't really want to do this." Preston narrowed his eyes. Apparently deciding it wasn't worth fighting over, Halls nodded slightly and then turned and walked off down the corridor. "What's this about?" Jurgen said. "I decided to have a little look at Halls' file—" "Goddammit, Preston, not this again!" Jurgen said exasperatedly. "Just hear me out first!" Preston said. "I tried to find out a little more about him, and since neither he nor you want to tell me—" "When did you ever ask me about Cleric Halls?" Jurgen said tightly. "All you've done is spout your opinions left right and centre, but you never once thought to just ask either of us." Preston thought briefly about this, decided Jurgen was right and didn't like coming to that conclusion. Aloud he said, "Alright. I take your point. But I tried to access his file and…why don't you try it for yourself?" "I already have a hard copy." "Just do it. Please?" Jurgen narrowed his eyes, then abruptly sighed. "Alright. But you'd better be right about this!" "I am," Preston said. The conviction in his tone seemed to do the trick; Jurgen hesitated, then sighed again. "Fine. Come on." He spun on his heel and strode off, Preston not half a step behind him, not speaking again until they reached the Cleric's apartment and were inside. "What exactly is this all about?" "Like I said, I tried to access Halls' file earlier on this evening. I found something that I want you to see. It damn near gave me the shock of my life." This last was far from true, but he wanted Jurgen, if not suspicious, then at least curious enough to take a look. Jurgen seemed to search Preston's face for some hint of trickery, then, apparently finding none, flicked on the displayer and tapped in Halls' name. "Alright, then. I'll see what it is that's got you so shaken up." "I'm not shaken up," Preston said, a trifle coldly. There was a slight silence, followed by a sudden drop in temperature. "At what point am I supposed to get the 'shock of my life', Preston?" Jurgen said coldly. Preston blinked, startled. "Excuse me?" "You heard," Jurgen answered, in a voice that suggested he was doing his utmost to keep a tight rein on his temper. Puzzled, Preston turned his attention to the screen and saw Halls' file on display there. "What?" Preston said, thunderstruck. "I…no. No, there must be some mistake!" "Oh, there's a mistake alright," Jurgen said icily, hitting the Esc key and blanking the screen. "A mistake and a half, Preston. I don't know what you have against Halls or why you're so set on making his life hell, but it stops here and now. Do you understand?" Preston shook his head, not in denial but to clear it. "He replaced it," he said softly. "That bastard. He must have put it back just after he left us." "And how the hell do you expect him to do that?" Jurgen said sharply. "You know as well as I do that it would take at least twenty minutes for Halls to get back to Sector 4 from here!" "Assuming he really lives there," Preston muttered, not quite under his breath. "You should know. You're the one who tried to search it." Preston shifted slightly. "Well, I…" "Goddammit, Preston, did you think I wouldn't find out? Kernachan and Halls both made an official complaint about that little incident. I didn't think I'd mention it to you, since I thought you must have had your reasons, but after this…" Preston whirled. "You know me, Jurgen! I know I've got my faults, but do you honestly believe I'm spiteful?" "This time yesterday, I'd have said no," Jurgen shot back angrily. "Now, though, I'm not so sure!" Preston stared at him, wordless. The Cleric's expression couldn't have been more shocked or hurt if Jurgen had slapped him across the face. Jurgen shook his head, suddenly tired. "No. I'm sorry, Preston. That was uncalled for." Preston nodded slightly. His face was already back to its usual impassive mask, and Jurgen couldn't help wondering if he'd half imagined that other, more human expression. He shook his head. "Why this obsession? Do you think I'd let Halls anywhere near this place if he hadn't already passed the same test you did?" Preston shook his head. "I don't know. Something about him…there's something he's not telling us." Jurgen raised his eyebrows. "Oh really? And have you spilt all your deepest, darkest secrets to him, Preston? Or even to me, for that matter?" He shook his head. "Halls has been a part of the Resistance for ten years now." "Ten years?" Preston echoed, startled. "Yes. Did you think you or Partridge were the first Clerics to join?" "Yes," Preston said, too taken aback to lie. Jurgen shrugged. "To be honest, you're not far wrong. In the whole history, as far as I know, there have only been six other Clerics besides you, and you know or knew five of them. The point I'm making is that Halls has had ample opportunity to betray us." "Maybe he's just waiting for the right moment." "Considering Father is dead and the Tetra Grammaton no longer has the influence it once did, I think he's left it a little late, don't you?" "I don't trust him." "You don't trust anybody," Jurgen pointed out matter-of-factly. Good point, Preston thought wryly. "And besides," Jurgen added, "if Halls is all you claim, it shouldn't be hard for you to find some real evidence against him." Preston shook his head. "Dammit, Jurgen, I'm not trying to frame him! I know what I saw." Jurgen glanced at him. "I believe you," he said unexpectedly. "But there's nothing either of us can do unless you produce a hard copy. When you have it, come and see me. Until then, keep your mind on your job, Preston!" He stalked out, letting the door bang shut behind him. Preston sighed. At least one good thing had come out of this; he was free to take a look at Halls' file. He tapped in the Cleric's name, hit Enter and waited, then read what was on the screen and swore viciously. Well, Preston? Looks like I was right, doesn't it? I did warn you against that course of action. Maybe next time you'll listen to me…if there is a next time, that is. Didn't you forget something? Like you, like the other Clerics, I happen to have access to images from all the security cameras in every single apartment, yours included. Nice place, by the way. You'll have to give me the name of your decorator. I especially like your little friend…you never told me you had a dog. I saw you leave, guessed you would be going to Jurgen sooner or later and simply replaced the files. I am sorry you had to look that stupid, believe it or not, but you brought it on yourself. I have to admit, I'm a little surprised you didn't print off a copy of the files while you had the chance, or ask to look at Jurgen's copy. Like I said before, I'm sure he'd have been happy to help you out. Don't bother going back to try now; Jurgen left his place ten minutes ago, and judging from the amount of stuff he was carrying, I don't think he'll be back for quite some time. I'm also surprised you didn't print out any details of that little, ah, bug. That would have convinced Jurgen to listen to you, or at least not chew you out so much. And now you're back sniffing around like that dog of yours, trying to find something out. You really don't know when to quit, do you, Cleric? I suppose I shouldn't be all that surprised; after all, it fits in pretty well with your reputation. But really, did you honestly expect me to just leave the files where you could find them? Kind of undoes all that hard work that went into hiding them in the first place, don't you think? I'm guessing that either Jurgen refused to let you borrow his copy or—judging from the lack of raised voices and smashed objects—you haven't got round to asking him yet. Or perhaps you've seen them and think there's something else hidden somewhere. You needn't waste your time, Preston. There's nothing hidden, nothing secret. What's in the file is all there is. Too bad you can't get to it. And even if you could, I'm not entirely sure how such niceties as my date of birth, hair colour, eye colour or anything similar could be important, or could tell you anything that you don't already know. What could you possibly want to know this badly? My birthday? Why? I find it very hard to believe you're going to send me a card, Preston. Still, if it means that much to you, I was born on the eleventh of November, 2477. Happy now? If not, tough shit; there's nothing I can do. So why don't you do yourself, Jurgen and me an enormous favour and quit trying to check my records. As I said, there's nothing there that's a particularly big secret. No? Preston thought savagely. Then why are you going to so much trouble to hide them, Halls? What's in there that you don't want me to see? A scrabbling sound and a muffled oomph announced Animal's arrival on the couch, and Preston grimaced. For all his size, Animal was damn clumsy. He watched the dog's rear end scrabble for a pawhold until compassion overcame even him, and he hoisted it up the rest of the way. "There you go." He paused. "I don't know why I just did that," he said tersely, "particularly given that little stunt you pulled this morning." Animal ignored him, making Preston wonder for what seemed like the hundredth time just how much of what was said Animal actually understood. Judging from the animated way his tail—hell, his whole rear end—was wagging to and fro (and Preston wondered just when Animal had started being a 'he' instead of an 'it') Animal either didn't remember or he didn't care. "What would you do if Halls showed up here?" he wondered aloud. Animal flopped onto Preston's lap, rolling over to have his belly rubbed. In spite of everything that had happened that day, a rare grin spread across the Cleric's face as he performed the attention. "Yeah, you probably would, wouldn't you?" He shook his head. "Why'd you have to pick Kia of all people to growl at?" He lifted Animal off him, glancing at the clock. Eleven fifteen pm. Preston stretched up with a yawn. It had been one hell of a couple of days, and there was nothing bothering him that couldn't wait until morning. With another yawn, Preston headed into his room and collapsed into bed, asleep almost before he hit the mattress. "Wait! Look at me! Look at me!" DuPont flung out a pleading hand, as though he was planning to snatch Preston's bullets out of the air. "I live!" Not for much longer, Preston thought implacably. His gun was still pointing at DuPont's chest, but he didn't pull the trigger…yet. Emboldened by his success, DuPont went on. "I breathe. I…feel." Preston didn't need the man to tell him that. This entire room—Father's HQ, if you like—was a violation of EC-10. Small animals, paintings, a chandelier, an ornate rug (now somewhat spoiled by the blood and half of Brandt's face)…oh yes. It was damn obvious the man felt. Which made his actions all the more unforgivable. "Now that you know it," DuPont said, breathlessly but with a sense of urgency, as though he was seeking to impart some vital message onto Preston before it was too late, "can you really take it?" Preston hesitated. "Is it really worth the price?" DuPont persisted. He was starting to relax very slightly, as though he'd sensed Preston's momentary weakness. Preston stared at the man he'd served—albeit unwittingly—for his entire life. DuPont…Father…whatever you chose to call the man, he had life. Emotions. Desires. Just like he, Preston, did. Like Partridge. The gun in Preston's hand started to quiver very slightly. Emotions. Like Partridge. Like me. Like Mary. The image of Mary leapt unbidden into his mind, the last memory he had of her. Mary, in the furnace. Mary, staring at him through the narrow window in the door. The flames rushing up to lick at her face, blackening her skin, burning out that sparkle in her eyes forever, eyes that still continued to stare at Preston and haunt him even in his dreams. Was it truly worth the price? He thought of Partridge, his one time partner and friend. He thought of his wife, and his children. He thought of Mary, and his gun was suddenly rock steady. Above it, Preston's dark eyes bored holes into the other man. "I pay it gladly," he said, and shot him. Preston jerked awake, sweating slightly. He didn't pretend to care about DuPont—to his way of thinking, the man deserved what had happened—but he hadn't been able to prevent the dreams either. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He'd been dreaming a hell of a lot lately, about Partridge, about Mary, about DuPont. He didn't exactly mind the dreams he had about that last one, but he didn't particularly enjoy them either. With another sigh, he glanced at the digital clock beside his bed. 5.27am. Well, he wasn't likely to get any more sleep, so he might as well get up now as half an hour later. "Old Libria," he muttered aloud, and then wondered why he'd said it. He knew what he had to do; he'd known last night...or had that been earlier this morning? The only problem was how to go about it. Old Libria...Preston knew it like the back of his hand. He was fairly confident he could take on one Cleric, or even two, but the thought of the entire populace of the Tetra Grammaton turning weapons on him simultaneously didn't do a lot for him. Short of slaughtering his way in—to say nothing of how he was going to get out again—Preston didn't see how he could do it on his own. He reached out, flicked on the displayer and tapped in Halls' name. He really didn't expect to see anything; it was just like an old scab that you couldn't leave alone but had to keep picking at. Subject's Full Name: Kevin Halls Occupation: Grammaton Cleric, Second Class DOB: 11/11/2477 Gender: Male Height: 1.83m Weight: 79.3 kg Hair Colour: Dark brown Eye Colour: Grey Distinguishing Features: None Next of kin: None Living Address: Apartment 17, Corridor 9, Sector 4 Other Notes: For a minute, Preston simply stared, not believing what he was seeing. Then he reached out quickly and hit the Print key, hearing the printer in the living room whirr into life. Good. He got to his feet, then went through and took the printout, tossing it casually onto the table. Old Libria. He was one of the best Grammaton Clerics there ever was, but even Preston wasn't stupid enough to believe he could just saunter in and saunter out again without incident, and he definitely wasn't stupid enough to believe he could take on what must be at least a hundred Clerics. He might survive, but if he was honest, the odds weren't particularly in his favour. For a brief instant, he wished Partridge was still alive. Old Libria was a place even he didn't want to go into on his own. Partridge might not be, but there are three others on your side, remember? Preston grimaced. Oh yes. He remembered. One who seemed to be in awe of his own shadow, one who'd turned into an archaeologist and one... Preston paused, then glanced at Halls' file. Then, trying not to think about what he was doing, he snatched up his coat and left. Forty minutes later, outside Apartment 17, Preston hesitated, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Teaming up with Cleric Halls of all people...! Then again, it would be bloody stupid to go into Old Libria on his own. He knew he'd managed it before, but back then, he hadn't been on the top of the Tetra Grammaton's ten most wanted list. Preston paused, weighing up his options. His decision was made considerably easier by the fact that he didn't have any. With a sigh, he reached out and pressed the door buzzer.   Chapter 6 >>> more Equilibrium Fan Fiction