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 Okay. Since when is Halls such a devout animal lover?? And where the hell'd he get this Klondike from, anyway? I'm thinking there should be some kind of warning on apartment doors. You know: watch out for the big dog in here or he'll rip your goddamn THROAT out!! If I didn't have Animal, I could almost sympathise with the Tetra Grammaton on their 'destroy animals' policy. And I have to say, if I'd known Halls was going to bring the dog with him, I'd have gone with Rossiter. What possible use could an animal be? Still, Halls did get me inside the monastery. He also got us both trapped and on the verge of being shot at from as many different angles as exist, but he got me inside. And speaking of the monastery, what the hell happened to respect? Prozium didn't dull that, I know! When I was a cadet, I wouldn't have even contemplated trying to order a Grammaton Cleric around. Hell, when I was a Grammaton Cleric, I wouldn't have even contemplated trying to order a Grammaton Cleric around, at least, not one that ranked as high in the Tetra Grammaton as I do in comparison to what I did then, until I outranked them, of course. Well, it made sense in my head. I suppose I should have remembered about the security doors. They were put in place to guard cadets from Resistance fighters. I knew about them; they were just never used when I was in the monastery. Credit where credit's due; I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for Halls. And yes, I do mean that in more ways than one, although I hadn't realised he'd been raised by the Tetra Grammaton as well. Not that it matters, I suppose. I mean, I know damn well I wasn't the only one; there were at least seven others in the dormitory when I was a cadet. Come to think of it, I wonder what happened to those guys? I guess they must be working in the Tetra Grammaton somewhere, if they're still alive, that is. Like I said, it doesn't really matter. I suppose I'm just curious. Maybe they'll be among the ones we have to take down in here. How would that be for irony? -John Preston, Grammaton Cleric First Class "Now what, genius?" Preston said acidly to Halls. "We wait," Halls said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Those doors must have triggered an alarm somewhere. All we have to do is hang around until the Clerics turn up." "Oh, is that all?" "May I remind you that you were the one who wanted me to shoot those kids?" "That's not true!" Preston said sharply. "Really?" Halls did a surprisingly accurate impression of Preston's voice. "'All we need to do is open fire on them, and the ones that are still alive at the end are Clerics. You do it; I'll watch'." Preston glowered at him. "I did not mean for you to take that seriously!" "Then how did you mean for me to take it? Shooting people isn't exactly the kind of thing you joke about, Preston." "I meant...I thought you..." Preston gave up. Some conversations you just weren't going to win. There was the sound of rapid footsteps and two Clerics suddenly arrived in the dormitory, followed by two teams of sweepers from both sides, surrounding them. Without waiting for introductions, the senior Cleric pointed a gun at each of them. "Don't move," he ordered. We're sealed in by two doors of bulletproof glass, surrounded by heavily armed sweepers, and he still feels he has to draw his guns and say 'Don't move'?! Preston thought incredulously. Next to him, Halls raised his hands in the air. "We're on patrol!" he said. "Identification!" Halls hesitated. "I...don't have it." "Unidentified individuals are subject to termination!" Halls glowered out of the corner of his eye at Preston, who'd been mouthing the words as the other said them. "Then come in here and do it," he said bitingly. "And when you do, tell Vice-Council Hagon that you've just countermanded his specific orders by shooting John Preston instead of bringing him in alive." "Self-defence is justifiable homicide." "We're hardly going to do anything in here, are we?" Preston said sharply. "Now open this door." "Oh yeah," Halls muttered. "That'll work." "Give me one good reason." "You want Preston taken alive, don't you?" Halls said. The Cleric hesitated briefly. "Which one of you's John Preston?" "He is," Halls and Preston said simultaneously, each pointing at the other. There was a silence. "Captain, I want you to guard these two with your life," the Cleric said abruptly. "I'll be back with reinforcements." "Reinforcements, sir?" the sweeper captain echoed, somewhat nervously. "Someone has to keep the patrol going, captain. Unless you plan to volunteer for that duty, you will guard these two suspects as ordered." The sweeper snapped to attention and ripped off a salute. "Sir." "Good." The two Clerics spun around silently and moved off. Halls glanced around, then grabbed Preston and yanked him over. "What was that all about?" he demanded. "I thought you had a plan!" "So you set me up as you? Do you want to get us both killed?" Halls hissed in an undertone. "I want them to open these doors." "And do you honestly think they're going to do that all the time you're here?" "They have to do something." "Do they? Who says? These doors are bulletproof, remember? We're not going anywhere. They may just decide to leave us here for a while." Halls shrugged. "People, even Clerics, who are half-starved and dehydrated, are less of a threat than when they're fully healthy." "Not that this worries you." "What good does worrying do anyone? It would be a more constructive use of my time to formulate some kind of plan." "Like what?" There was a silence. "I'm not quite sure," Halls admitted ruefully. "I was hoping you could come up with something." "Terrific," Preston muttered. "Why did I ever let you talk me into this?" "Excuse me?" Halls said sharply. "You heard!" "Look, was this my idea?" "You were the one who said 'Let's break into the monastery'!" "Because you happened to be the one who said 'Let's walk right up to the Tetra Grammaton and knock'!" Halls shot back, not missing a beat. Preston shut up for a minute. Then he said, "Alright, fair point. But if you hadn't-" "Are we going to stand around all day pointing fingers at each other?" Halls demanded. "Because if we are, I might ask the captain over there to get the rest of his buddies down here! I mean, since we're putting on a show for them, we may as well entertain the whole goddamn Academy!" The two of them glowered at each other. It was almost impossible to say which face showed the most enmity. Finally Preston glanced away, attempting to reshape his features into something resembling impassivity. Judging from the way the sweepers' weapons were now mostly pointing at him, he didn't seem to be succeeding too well. He grimaced. Damn! How the hell could you stare someone down when you couldn't even see their eyes? Footsteps from outside alerted him to the return of the Clerics, complete with another pair. "Travel in packs now, do you?" Halls jibed. One of the first ones turned to the newcomers. "Which one?" Both Clerics simultaneously pointed at Preston. "You're certain?" "Yes, Cleric," the lower-ranking of the two said. "Thankyou. Dismissed." The Cleric glanced back at Halls and Preston, then gestured to a sweeper. "Captain, that animal is illegal. Go in, destroy it and the lower-ranking Cleric. Leave the other unmarked. We'll be back shortly." He turned and walked briskly away, his partner following. For a long minute, none of the sweeper team moved. Destroying an animal, well, none of them would baulk at that. It was 'go in' and 'destroy the lower-ranking Cleric' that was giving most of them pause. The Prozium meant that none of them were afraid as such, but they damn well weren't suicidal either. "Lieutenant!" the captain said abruptly. "Yes sir?" "See to it." "Yes sir." The lieutenant glanced around. "Sergeant!" "Yes sir?" "Take out those two." "Yes sir. Corporal!" "Yes sarge?" the corporal said, in the dread tones of one who's just realised that there's only one straw left, and everyone else is holding a long one. "Exterminate them." Halls pointed a gun at the corporal on the basis that this probably wasn't going to go any further down the ladder. "Come on in and try," he invited the man coldly. Preston raised his eyebrows. "Are you telling me you actually care about something besides yourself?" He shook his head. "And there's me thinking you're such a cold-hearted bastard you must freeze the very oxygen you breathe." He lowered his voice. "May I remind you exactly why we're here? You said it yourself; I need your help to find Lisa, not to decimate as many sweepers as we can find!" "Fuck you, Preston," Halls said icily, not looking at him. "And fuck your kid as well." Before he had time to react, Preston's fist slammed into the side of his head, and Halls went down hard. Instincts and Gun-Kata took over and he rolled with it, coming up onto his feet again, one gun pointing at Preston's face. Across from him, Preston was in a mirrored stance, his own gun in Halls' direction. For a minute, nobody moved, including the sweepers, who were too busy gaping at the confrontation and its resulting stalemate to react. Halls continued staring at Preston. Clerics weren't telepathic (despite the rumours) but two Clerics could form a kind of...understanding. We have to work together. Preston didn't speak the words aloud; he didn't have to. It was a Cleric's job to know what other people were thinking, after all. Halls raised his free hand in a gesture that only a blind or astonishingly naïve person, Cleric or otherwise, could have failed to interpret correctly. Judging from the look on his face, he would have preferred to work with Brandt or DuPont. And he and Brandt would probably get on together like a house on fire, Preston thought with a certain grim humour. Aloud he said, "Do you want to get out of this or not?" In all honesty, Halls wasn't a hundred percent certain that he did. New Libria was...well, he supposed, it was nice being able to sneeze without worrying that you were going to be arrested for it, but frankly, the life of a Cleric turned sense offender wasn't a particularly easy one. Most people knew someone who had been arrested or processed by a Cleric, and since he wasn't a hero like Preston or an archaeologist like Richardson, he was a fifth wheel half the time. He and Kernachan had stuck together like glue, but now Kernachan had gone. And if he was really honest, Halls thought that maybe his partner had had the right of it all along. A small door, designed to allow people through in single file to deal with any captives, opened suddenly to admit the first of the sweeper unit, who raised his gun to Klondike. A sharp crack echoed in the small room. The sweeper froze, then dropped to the ground, a hole in his chest and a comically stunned expression still on his face. Halls glanced over at Preston and nodded once, slowly. Alright. A half smile appeared on Preston's face. It wasn't a particularly nice expression. In fact, that smile was the last thing that most people who had the misfortune to cross Preston ever saw. Halls whistled sharply, and Klondike slunk behind him, out of the line of fire. Both Clerics stood, motionless, letting their minds clear of anything and everything save Gun-Kata. Sinking, Preston called it. The sweepers hesitated. Bad move. Fatal, in fact. There is a slight disadvantage to Gun-Kata; namely that for the (very) brief time it takes the practitioner to sink into it, they are temporarily helpless. If the sweepers had fired immediately, both Halls and Preston would probably have been dead. As it was, by the time the next one started inside, it was too late. It was possibly the strangest Gun-Kata battle ever fought in the history of the Tetra Grammaton. Certainly the most spectacular; the majority of bullets fired were ricocheting off the glass, creating a wild kind of fireworks display. Among all this, Preston and Halls were putting down the sweepers with a ruthless efficiency, both driven by an obscure desire to prove themselves the better fighter. Preston's body neatly evaded a stray bullet on the ricochet and an idea snapped into place. In Gun-Kata terms, and his own mind, it went something like this: ExA/B=45° GcS° x r = GcS° GcS° ÷ 45° = (90 ÷ 180) x 0.2 In ordinary, everyday terms, this translated to: Both exits on a forty five degree angle from my current position. Bullets ricochet on an identical angle to their point of impact. Therefore... Preston abruptly spun and fired at a section of blank wall. His bullet hit the glass, rebounded off it and continued to ricochet a total of eight times before hitting a sweeper in the chest. Before it had bounced off the second wall, he'd flicked his gun onto Auto and fired on those sweepers who were still trying their luck at coming in. One of his sidearms ran out of ammunition and he ejected the cartridge, reloading and returning fire before it had hit the ground. In the back of his mind, like a relentless computer, came the information that this was his last cartridge and if that went, he'd be down to using the spikes or having to wrestle another gun from one of the sweepers. The knowledge flashed through his mind in a nanosecond, to be almost instantly replaced by the cool certainty that was Gun-Kata. He spun out the way, feeling the bullets zing past him into the space he'd occupied not half a split second ago. Even before he was halfway through the turn, he'd snapped one gun back into its holster and brought the other one up, squeezing the trigger as he whirled, scything through their ranks like a hot knife through butter. Four more dropped to the ground, either dead or wisely attempting to keep out of the line of fire. One of the sweepers still on the outside, who obviously had more sense than his comrades, slammed the door shut again. "Surrender your weapons!" he shouted. "Surrender your weapons and no one will get hurt!" "It's a little late for that," Halls answered cuttingly. "You want my sidearms?" He opened his arms mockingly, a gun still in each hand. "Come on in and take them." Even sweepers aren't that stupid, Preston thought, watching as none of them moved. Halls tipped his head on one side. "No? Please yourselves." He walked towards the still open door on the other wall, walking over sweepers as though they weren't there. One made the fatal mistake of groaning as Halls stepped onto his back. Halls glanced down. "Sorry. Thought you were dead." He checked his right hand gun, then used it to put a bullet through the man's skull. "There you go." He strode through the door, over another couple of sweepers who fortunately had the savvy to keep quiet, and out the far exit. Preston followed a foot or so behind him, trying not to think of that sweeper and wondering just who the hell he'd teamed up with. "What was that all about?" he demanded furiously, grabbing Halls and running him against a wall. "He could have proved troublesome." Halls shrugged. "Call it self-defence." "I call it goddamn murder!" Preston hissed in a savage undertone, glancing around. It looked like they were still unobserved. Good. "Justifiable homicide, then, if you want to split hairs," Halls answered with another shrug. "He couldn't have done anything from that position and you know it." "I was taking precautions." "No you damn well weren't!" "Well, you better make up your mind what I was doing, Preston, because I'm running out of morally acceptable excuses." Halls raised his eyebrows. "Or we could go back to my original one of him being a sweeper on Prozium and therefore expendable. I liked that one better anyway." "It doesn't give you the right to murder him in cold blood." An icy smile appeared on Halls' face. "Ah, but like you said; I'm a cold-hearted bastard. Isn't that right, Preston?" Preston at least had the grace not to meet his eyes. "Alright then, how about this?" Halls offered. "He'd taken at least three bullets in the chest. The alternative was a slow, lingering death through blood loss." "Oh, I see. So you look upon what you did as an errand of mercy, do you?" "More or less." Halls snorted. "Most of us believe in giving animals a calm and dignified send-off when the pain becomes too much, don't we?" "Humans are not animals." "No," Halls agreed icily, "we're a long way from that yet. Take your hands off me, Preston." Preston did so, wiping his hands on his uniform as though he'd just been handling something particularly nasty. "I was wrong," he said flatly. "You're nothing more than an animal, Halls. If you're on Prozium, as soon as we get out of here, I'm placing you under arrest. If you're not, there's something very wrong with your mind. You don't care about human lives." He shifted his gaze to Klondike. "And neither does that thing." "You think not?" Halls said mockingly. He glanced down at Klondike, who'd caught up with them again. "Go on then, Preston. Throw me into another wall. Then we'll see just how little he cares." "Hiding behind an animal for protection?" Preston sneered. "That's low, even for you, Halls." Klondike barked suddenly, making them both jump, then streaked ahead to a small, nondescript door and jumped up against it, front paws making a scratching sound that was, in reality, barely audible but which seemed to Preston's tense nerves to be deafening. Preston followed, reached out a hand and then hesitated. He wasn't too sure how this thing would react to being touched, particularly by him. Klondike glanced up at him, then returned to scratching furiously at the door. "There's no one there," Preston said. He felt somewhat silly talking to an animal, but from what he'd seen so far, it actually seemed to understand Librian pretty well. A lot better than some people he'd worked with, Preston thought uncharitably. Klondike ignored him, still scrabbling at the metal and whining loudly. "Really, there's...Halls, shut this animal up before he brings the whole of the Tetra Grammaton down on us!" Preston said in a savage undertone. Halls glanced around, startled, then looked down at the dog. "What've you found?" "There's nothing in there," Preston repeated. "Maybe not," Halls said doubtfully. "But it's not like him to get this worked up over nothing." "Then take a look on the way out, if you must!" "Uh huh," Halls said, not really listening. He glanced around, then pulled out a small crowbar from inside his coat and used it to lever the door open. The stench rolled out, engulfing both of them in choking nausea. "What..." Preston managed to get out. Halls pulled out a standard torch, switched it on and directed the narrow beam of light into the small room beyond, revealing the bodies piled haphazardly within. There was a silence. "Holy shit," Preston said softly, appalled. "The Tetra Grammaton didn't do this." "Then who did? Us?" Halls' voice was as composed as ever, but Preston couldn't help paying more attention to the unusual pallor of his complexion. "They...no." The Cleric shook his head. "They're unemotional, remember? They're not merciful, but they're not deliberately sadistic either." "Who says this was done emotionally?" Halls reached out and lifted the closest body out, examining it. Preston stepped back, well out of the way. "This couldn't have been done without emotion, Halls! You must have seen sense crime of this kind before you came off the dose. Look at them. These people were...were..." "Raped, Preston? Is that the word you're looking for?" Halls said coolly. A feeling of cold anger started to seep through Preston. "Who by?" "Now, do you honestly expect me to know that?" Halls retorted bitingly. "What am I, a goddamn oracle?" "Clerics and sweepers wouldn't have done such a thing," Preston said adamantly. "They couldn't." "The Council members don't dose, do they?" Halls said. "They're nothing more than high-ranking Clerics. Why shouldn't high-ranking sweepers be the same? Or maybe this was done before they came in here. Not all sense offenders are as chivalrous as you seem to be." He sat back on his heels with a sigh. "Anyway, we're not likely to get any answers now. As far as I can make out, these have been dead for some time." "Are you on the dose?" Preston said suddenly. Halls raised his eyebrows. "Now whatever put that idea into your head?" "How can you be so...so matter-of-fact about any of this??" "Oh, is that all? Don't worry, Cleric; I'm not on Prozium. I've just been off it for slightly longer than you have." "How long?" "Never mind that now." Halls nodded towards the pile. "Help me get this lot back in, would you?" "What? No!" Preston said sharply, eyeing the bodies as though they were about to spring back to life at any second. "You can damn well do it if it means so much to you!" "It's not a case of meaning anything to me. It'll leave a trail for anyone who might be after us if they come along and see this door's been opened. They'll know we went this way." Preston grimaced. Halls was right, of course, but that didn't make it any easier. Feeling for the first time very, very thankful that he was wearing gloves, Preston gingerly lifted one of the bodies and placed it back in the room. It took him three attempts. "That's very good," Halls said dryly, from where he'd already finished most of them and was now leaning against a wall watching, arms folded across his chest. "Now try doing one with your eyes open." Preston gave him a filthy look, which he followed up with an equally filthy gesture. "I'd like to see you do better," he muttered. "Then take a look inside," Halls answered, overhearing. "Just because you have no morals doesn't mean the rest of us are as depraved," Preston said coldly. "These people are..." He coughed into a fist. "Well, they. Um. They happen to be, uh..." "'Stark naked' I believe is the term you're looking for," Halls answered smoothly, the slight smirk on his face letting Preston know he was enjoying his discomfiture. "This was not the work of the Tetra Grammaton," Preston said flatly, opting for a slightly safer subject. "Maybe they knew about it, but they'd never have done it. They must be...I don't know. Allied with somebody, perhaps?" "Perhaps." Halls moved over and shut the door, to Preston's private and immense relief. "But who?" Preston was thinking out loud, not expecting any answer. "Sense offenders?" He shook his head and answered his own question. "No, they wouldn't even think of doing such a thing." Halls shrugged. "To be honest with you, I've no idea. But then again, does it matter?" "If we have a leak in New Libria, then yes!" "You know my thoughts on that, Preston. My credits are on Richardson." Preston snorted slightly. Richardson was about as unlike a double agent as it was possible to be. Still...perhaps it might be worth checking out. If he ever got out of this alive, that was. He glanced over his shoulder, back at the door. There was a silence. "We never knew," Preston said suddenly. "Didn't we?" Halls answered quietly. "Or did we just never ask?" Preston was silent. Put like that, of course... "Get your hands in the air! Get your hands in the air!" Preston and Halls both jerked involuntarily, then spun around. The hall behind them was literally full of agents, mainly sweepers, but with at least a dozen Clerics among their ranks. Halls glanced at Klondike. "Get out of here! Go home!" The dog looked up at him and whined, understanding Halls' order but not the reason behind it. "Go!" Halls stepped in front of him, shielding him from view. Preston, not daring to look around, heard the scrabble of paws as the dog fled. "On your knees!" Halls shot a sidelong glance at Preston, silently asking for direction. "Do it," Preston murmured very quietly out of the corner of his mouth. "Even we'd be hard pushed to take down this many Clerics." Slowly, Halls complied. "We're on patrol here!" he said loudly. "Clerics Andersen and Phillips have patrol duty!" "I know. My partner and I made a mistake." There was a brief silence. Halls' story was plausible enough; people did make occasional mistakes, including Clerics. And there was no chance that he was making it up; in the mind of the Tetra Grammaton, Clerics did not lie any more than the others on Prozium. There was no need. "Report to the medical wing for testing!" the Cleric who had been doing all the talking rapped out. A polygraph test, Preston thought. That wasn't so bad. If you were careful, and they didn't ask the wrong questions (or the right ones, depending on your point of view) you could sometimes fool one of those. There may be hope yet. "On your feet!" "I wish he'd make up his bloody mind," Halls muttered under his breath, too quietly for the others to hear. "No you don't," Preston answered equally quietly. "You're on the dose, remember? You don't wish for anything." "Oh yeah...right," Halls said, with a slight smirk. Preston started to ask him exactly what that expression was supposed to mean, when a set of doors slid open with a hydraulic purr, revealing the immaculate, brightly lit confines of the medical wing. A medic approached, looking like he'd got his diploma only recently. Like maybe yesterday. "Can I help you, sir?" "We've been instructed to report for testing," Preston answered, keeping his tone and facial expressions as deadpan as possible, while being uncomfortably aware of the heavily armed units behind him. "Of course, sir." The medic reached out and pressed a button. A few seconds later, a pair of heavily armed sweepers entered through the far door. The medic glanced at Preston. "Sorry, sir, just a precaution." Preston nodded. "Of course." "If you'd like to hold out your arm..." Preston stopped. "Excuse me?" "What happened to the polygraph test?" Halls demanded. "Were you not informed, sir?" "No. No, we've been out in the Nethers for an extensive amount of time," Preston answered truthfully. "I see, sir. We found that Resistance fighters with a sufficient amount of willpower were able to suppress their emotions enough to invalidate the readings. Now we do it on blood tests." Preston stared at the man. Oh shit! "Understood," Halls said, before the medic had time to get suspicious. He looked at Preston pointedly. Preston hesitated, then held out his arm, rolling up the sleeve as he did so. Several of the sweepers moved to surround him, but he offered no resistance as the medic used a syringe to withdraw a small amount of blood, which he then placed carefully onto a specially adapted slide and inserted into a slot on a small machine, which had a displayer attached. Preston stared at it, watching, knowing, as the words appeared on the screen PROZIUM TEST RESULTS: NEGATIVE The air around Preston suddenly seemed to be full of guns. "Test his partner," the medic instructed. "He's not my partner," Preston muttered. Halls raised his eyebrows. "Don't even think about it," he said flatly. "If you are on the dose, you have nothing to fear," the medic said stonily. Yeah, right, Halls thought, with a sidelong glance at Preston. "Just do it, Halls," Preston said tightly. The second Halls' results appeared, the killing would begin. The thought sickened him, but he knew it was true, knew it as well as he knew his own name. Halls hesitated, then reluctantly allowed the medic to take a blood sample from him and scan it into the machine. "You know, this really isn't what it looks like," he said. "What do you mean, Cleric?" the medic asked, startled. "I wasn't talking to you," Halls retorted. The words flickered up on the screen. PROZIUM TEST RESULTS: POSITIVE Halls glanced over at Preston and shrugged apologetically.   Chapter 8 >>>  more Equilibrium Fan Fiction