110: riot! part one

Chief of Police Elmen Nevert’s furrowed brow glistened with sweat.  he looked slowly across the three faces before him.  the first, Mishhail Tawhn, his second in command, his most trusted advisor.  he was a short and stocky man, soft in belly but hard in constitution.  they had been partners since their graduation from the Caulmen Police Academy, and friends for years before that.  Tawhn had saved Nevert’s life on more than one occasion, and Nevert had returned the favor a time or two himself.

to Tawhn’s left sat Myrnian Selt, Caulmen Police Department Media and Public Relations Officer.  she crossed her arms, and her smooth brown hair pulled itself back into a tight ponytail that stretched the skin at her hairline.  she was the youngest person in the room, but was not in the least intimidated by this fact.  she returned Nevert’s gaze stolidly, and with her usual trace of hostility.

Finally, Nevert shifted his eyes to Efnemian Brule.  it would be more accurate, Nevert thought, to say that he covered his chair than to say that he sat in it.  he reclined slightly, hands folded across his enormous paunch, legs bobbing in gleeful distraction.  he was the liaison from the Caulmen City government, and was, unfortunately, always present when important decisions needed to be made.  if it were possible, Brule seemed almost delighted by the predicament this group of four found themselves in.

Nevert pinched his lower lip with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand.  “well, that’s the situation, as best we understand it.”

“how many hostages?” Selt asked calmly.  Nevert had never seen her act any way but cool and collected. yet he detected, as he often did in such moments, a repetitive flexing of her jaws, a subtle pulsation below her angular cheekbones.

“we’re not sure yet.  we’re in contact with the planetarium’s ownership and, as the media reports circulate, we’re getting more and more calls from friends and families of persons presumed to be captives.  the number is confirmed at seventy-eight as of now, but our best guess is closer to two hundred.”

Brule spoke next, his voice thick with saliva.  “haven’t seen anything like this before, have we, Chief Nevert?”  he seemed delighted by the fact.

Nevert glared at him.  “no, Mr. Brule.  we haven’t.  does the mayor provide any guidance?”

“no direct instructions at this time,” Brule responded.

“i was not asking for instructions, Mr. Brule.”  Nevert’s animosity was only thinly veiled.  “the Caulmen Police Department will take action as it sees fit.  the mayor’s input is one of many factors we take into account when selecting a course of action.”

Brule grinned.  “of course, Chief.  of course.”

“this is no smiling matter,” Tawhn snapped with open hostility.

“Tawhn,” Nevert admonished.

“my apologies sir,” Tawhn responded before turning back to Brule.  “but, respectfully, liaison, the Chief is right.”  there was acidity in Tawhn’s delivery of Brule’s title.  Nevert’s second in command continued, anger edging higher in his voice, “we are in the business of saving lives.  beyond winning another term, i’d be interested to know what business the mayor is in.”

“Tawhn!”  Nevert cut him off sternly.  Tawhn’s eyes met Nevert’s for a moment, and the Chief looked him back into his chair.  Tawhn sat back, fuming.  Brule laughed.

“i will attempt to forget your comments when i return to the mayor’s office,” he said with a cynical kindness.  “would you rather choose a message for the mayor more carefully?”

“why not have the mayor speak to us directly?” Selt asked, masking any emotion that maybe have been there behind her even tempered words.

“as you know,” Brule said, “the mayor is a very busy man.  per usual, you will deal with me, and i will speak with the mayor.”

“you’ll forgive me for pointing out the obvious,” Nevert said, “but this is not a ‘usual’ situation.  the Rockhewn Planetarium and up to two-hundred Caulmenian citizens have been taken hostage by a wild and unpredictable religious cleric who has as yet made no demands or given any indications of his intentions.”  he paused for a moment, breathed deeply, and turned to the group more generally.  “so, i ask again, where do we go from here?”

Selt was the first to speak.  “we need to reassign every available CPD unit to the area surrounding the planetarium.  it is essential that the public is given the impression that every possible measure is being taken to diffuse the situation quickly and peacefully.”

“sir, i disagree,” Tawhn broke in.  “we don’t know what we’re dealing with here.  we know Devers has armed soldiers in the Rockhewn, but we don’t know how many or in what capacity.  putting more men and more guns in a confined and civilian-dense area might have unpredictable and potentially disastrous results.”

“you may not have much of a choice,” Brule said, gesturing to the telestrator playing silently in a corner of the office.  the crowds were gathering, the report showed, and they weren’t happy.  RIOTS DEVELOPING AT ROCKHEWN, the subtitle read.

“shit,” Nevert breathed.

“Chief,” Selt said, only the slightest hint of insistence in her voice.  “we need more men.”

Nevert looked at Tawhn.  the junior officer’s face screamed that he was not happy with Selt’s recommendation, but he said nothing.

“very well,” Nevert said after a long moment.  “call all non-essential units.  i want the perimeter reinforced, and designate two squads for direct crowd control.”

“yes, Chief,” Tawhn said, standing.  his eyes were dark, but he did not protest.

“Selt, issue a release.  all units called to the area, CPD taking no chances, blah blah blah.”

“right away, Chief.”  she stood, followed Tawhn out the door.

“i will pass on your decision to the mayor,” Brule said, rapping his fingers on his protruding gut.  “though i can’t say for certain without speaking to him, i’m sure he will be very satisfied with your decision.”

“i can’t tell you how glad i am to hear that,” Nevert said dryly.  “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’ve got a few calls to make.”

“of course,” Brule said, rising.  he stopped just before the door.  “Nevert,” he said.

“yeah,” came the annoyed response.  Chief Nevert, he thought.

“bear in mind that the mayor does not hold the same…distaste, shall we say, for the Aurorist movement that you are known to have.  and do not forget that we are aware of your personal connection to the cleric.  the mayor is unlikely to allow anyone involved to continue working if it is observed that they are being influenced unduly by their emotions.”

“is that it?”

“i trust we understand each other,” Brule said, a hint of a threat lurking in his tone.

Nevert did not respond.  Brule left, he heavy footsteps receding slowly, leaving Nevert alone in his office.

*

Pil Craff tapped distractedly at a keyboard in a dark control room.  he scratched at his tousled hair, brought his hand down and regarded his fingernails.  they were overlong, and white particles of dried scalp lined them.  he looked nervously at his co-operator, Dremmes Yent.  her twenty-four year-old frame leaned over the registry computer in an awkward posture, but Pil admired it nonetheless.  she might have been a little…plumper than some of the other girls he’d met in SatSchool, but the other girls didn’t have the same…personality.  and, anyway, she was ravishing.  he scraped his fingertips against his trousers rapidly to clean his scrapings from them.  don’t forget to trim those on your next break, he told himself.

initially, Pil had been very disappointed with his assignment after graduating SatSchool — yes, the reconnaissance satellites controlled in the Dulvern Satellite Bunker 13A, or DSB-one-three, as it was known, were a crucial part of Dulvern’s defense and security systems.  he knew that.  he knew it was a sought after position among SatSchoolers, and he knew that it would almost certainly put him on the fast-track for a flashier and sexier job in the future.  he couldn’t complain about the pay, either.  but he also knew that working in the recon station meant being stuck in a dark bunker for forty hours a week, for at least two years.  but, if his disappointment had been strongly felt — he was, despite all appearances, a social animal — it had been short lived.  he’d spent half a shift in the bunker before she had walked in.  Dremmes.  a goddess.  a dream.  he’d soiled more than a few personal garments fantasizing about her.  and now, she was here.  locked deep underground with him.  just the two of them.

just the two of us, and that goddam security guard, he thought ruefully.  that stone-faced bastard CPD officer was in the bunker, all day, every day.  except occasionally when he had a day off and some other brute who could have been his twin replaced him.  there were two more outside, he knew, and why not have all three of them out there?  or just get rid of the third one all together and leave him alone with Dremmes?

she looked up from the registry computer and looked at him.  her nose was a little long, and had a bit of a crook to it, but he didn’t mind.  it added character.  “the registry looks good,” she said.  he had heard other boys make fun of the nasality of her voice, but he liked it.  where others found it grating, he found himself filled with a certain energy, a flutter, every time he heard it.

she had finished the registry check for the five o’clock hour — all the recon satellites were in the right place, signals were all strong, everything was going as it should go.  it was usual.  she stood, and rubbed a hand across her stomach, which rolled elegantly over her beltline.  Pil cringed at the thought of how scrawny he was.  he wondered if he could ever be enough of a man, even at twenty-three, for such a magnificent woman.

“i’m going to grab something to eat,” she said, her lips curling up in a sharp V-shape that stretched far into her cheeks, bunching them up into little pink mountains.  “you got it for a minute?”

“sure,” Pil said, not knowing what question he was answering.

“you want something?”

“sure,” he said again.  he was not listening to her words, but taking in her beauty in all it’s full curves and sharp angles.

she laughed a staccato, cackling laugh.  “okay, Pil.  you need to put some meat on those bones — i’ll grab something for you.”

she made eye contact with the guard, and he titled his head up in affirmation.  he punched in the code to the door, and it slid open.  Dremmes shot a glance back at Pil as she began to climb the stairs out of the bunker.  it was almost flirtatious.  for a moment, Pil’s heart fluttered — did she like him, too?  a buzzer sounded behind him, and he realized with a start he was grinning like an idiot.  he spun around to face the computer.  there was a retasking order.  the Rockhewn Planetarium?  it escaped him why central would want a satellite — wait, three satellites retasked to those coordinates — but, nevertheless, he punched in a few commands, defeated some safeties, entered code to correct some plotting errors, and, after a quick consultation with his skychart and some rapid mental math, entered in the relative yaw, pitch, and thrust commands for each of the three satellites.  you need to put some meat on your bones, he thought.  too skinny.  too scrawny.

*

“Leah,” he began.  he stroked his beard, long wisps of brown hair that fell to his chest lamely.  “i’ve long wanted to know you.  we all have pictures of the future, don’t we?  i have many pictures of the future, and of the past.  among my many dreams,” he trailed off, glanced through the glass and into Caulmen’s great lake, illuminated in the city’s midnight by only traces and streaks of artificial light.  he seemed to lose himself in the view, and muttered something that Leah could not make out.  slowly, his gaze drifted back to her, and he continued, as if he was unaware that he had ever left off.  “among my many dreams, i’ve dreamed of my son’s wedding.  i’ve seen him married on the mountaintops of Pavnory, in the town square in Caulmen, and even, in one of my stranger dreams, the dry mines of Klin.  but his wife’s face was always a mystery to me, always hidden from me.  whatever dreams God gave me, he always withheld that detail.  but, from the first time i set my eyes on you, dear girl, my dreams were complete.  the location didn’t matter, of course — those were all possibilities, things that may be.  but when i saw your face, sweet Leah, i knew you were the one.  you were the woman that was to marry my son.”  Mellor Devers sat forward in his chair, leaned heavily on his wooden staff.  he sat for a moment, silent.  he twisted the cane in his bony fist, and it squeaked in a quiet soprano on the glass floor.

Leah sat silently, her eyes fixed on the glass floor, her hands fixed at her sides.  this was not by choice; she had been fitted with magnetic cuffs that locked her hands to the armrests of her plush but imprisoning chair.  the lake was black beneath the clear floor of the Rockhewn Planetarium’s observation wing.

“are you afraid of me?” Mellor asked, his voice low.  through her fear, Leah was perplexed by the apparent change in the man she had seen screeching at a terrorized crowd only an hour before, the mob that was now a collection of hostages, living pawns in some theatrical game.

“yes,” she whispered, her voice choking on a single word.

Mellor’s eyes fell.  “my dear,” he said, comfortingly.  “i would never hurt you.”  Leah broke into an open cry.  “oh, my dear,” he said.  “you are afraid of me because of your bonds.  i would offer to release your bonds — i do make that offer.  but i require assurance that you will not attempt escape.  it is not because i wish to keep you hostage against your will; it is that your will deceives you.  you are like us, my dear.  in your heart of hearts, you long for the old days, for the ancient times, for a simpler galaxy.  a galaxy where there is no war, no giants of business that dictate the economies of unassuming worlds simply trying to make their way in the universe.  if you can assure me that you agree, that you wish to become one of us, that you will be the woman who marries my son, that we will move into the future, into the past, together, then i will release your bonds, and you will have no reason to fear me.”  he paused for a moment, regarding her.  she was shaking visibly, and she did not speak.  after a long moment, he said, “isn’t there any way i could gain this assurance?  is there no way we might trust each other?”  he waited, and again, no response.  “i have been looking for Issac.  i wish to bring him here, to be with you, with us.  perhaps if you told me where he was, we could find him more quickly, and then you would be with my son again.  perhaps then you might trust me.”

a moment passed.  then slowly, she began to lift her head.  her eyes were red, her cheeks damp with tears.  her voice trembling and her lip quivering, she asked, “you expect me to trust you?”  Mellor began to speak, but Leah cut him off, her voice steely in spite of her fear; resolved in spite of her captivity.  bitterly, she said, “you’ve made a fatal mistake.  Issac isn’t here.  he’s not on Dulvern.  there’s no way you can find him.”

Mellor sat back, stunned.  his eyes widened.

*

the chaos outside the Rockhewn Planetarium had grown to a near-fever pitch.  though the mob might have seemed homogeneous to a distant observer, there were factions growing within the pulsating sea of humanity.  they were angry that the Aurorists had taken over the Rockhewn; they were angry that the government was not doing enough to stop it; they were angry that the Aurorist party had been banned; they just wanted their loved ones released.

the projection disk next to Nevert rattled insistently.  he depressed the receive button, but did not look at the image that the disk displayed.

“yes?” Nevert said distractedly, annoyed by yet another interruption to his work.  it had been a terrible night already; the on-scene mass had gained an order of magnitude since the takeover of the Rockhewn Planetarium taken place.  he had put out an order to allocate all non-essential police units and personnel to the planetarium, but, many people wanted to know, what exactly did that mean?  as it turned out, there was no clearly outlined definition of what essential and non-essential units were in the CPD.  it had been a egregious oversight, and Nevert was now paying for it.
“Chief Nevert.”  the voice was weasely and annoying.  Nevert looked up to greet the face of his caller.  he straightened unconsciously.

“Mayor Taulfen,” he said, with as much confidence as he could manage.  “my apologies, sir.  this is highly unexpected.  what can i do for you, sir?”

the mayor’s response was a long, exasperated sigh, and a run of his hands through his greased brown hair.  he said, “what the hell is going on?”

“well, sir, uh, as you know, the Aurorist party has taken over–”

“yes, yes, i know,” the mayor said, exasperated.  “hostages and what have you.  what i mean, Nevert, is what are those crowds doing there?  what are they rioting about?”

“well, sir, they are, in essence, exercising their right to free assembly–”

“yes, yes, i know.”  Mayor Taulfen’s interjection repeated itself.  “Nevert, perhaps my liaison was unclear.  let me explain a couple of things to you.  i know you’ve been doing this job for a while now, and i’m fully aware of your history.  i am not, generally speaking, questioning your competence.  but you might have noticed that every telestrator network on the hellburnt planet has crews here.  and it’s not just Dulvernian media, Nevert.  Pavnory and Quilten already have news crews here, and more worlds will follow.  and i certainly disagree with the planetary government’s decision to ban the Aurorist party, Nevert.  i mean, they’re asking for trouble pulling something like that.  i told them i opposed it.  and trouble is just what they’ve got now.  it’s a hellburnt circus out there, Nevert.  is that how you want our city — our world to be known?”  he paused for a moment, but was clearly not waiting for a response.  he continued, “you’re a man of at least reasonable intelligence, Nevert, or at least i assume so — you can’t have kissed enough ass to get to such a high position without some talent.  but now, i’m not so sure of that fact.  why in the hell are those crowds still there?  i can understand, maybe, why you haven’t gotten the hostages out yet.  i understand that hostage situations are complex, blah blah blah, et cetera et cetera.  maybe you can’t make a phone call and get that hellburnt nutjob Devers — who, if you ask me, is doing a terrible disservice to what otherwise might be palatable beliefs, at least in terms of localization — you do see the point in localizing the Caulminian economy, don’t you, Nevert?  maybe not.  in any case, where was i?  oh, yes.  i can maybe grant you a little more time to get the hostages out, but i won’t have my city, i won’t have this hellburnt city turning into a petty carnival, you understand me?  do you understand me, Nevert?  not a circus.  not while i’m mayor, you understand me?  Nevert?  are you listening to me?”

finally, the mayor took a breath.  slowly, calculating each word, Nevert said, “yes, sir, i understand you completely.  stabilizing and dispelling the crowds has been my top priority.  i have to tell you, sir, there were some unclear policies about who could be retasked–”

“so you blame ‘policy’ for your ineptitude, Nevert?  you expect me to believe that written regulations have gotten in the way of what would have been, i’m sure you would say, and exemplary job of taking care of this hellburnt mess?”

Nevert gritted his teeth.  “Mayor Taulfen, with all respect, you have to realize that i do not have dictatorial control at the CPD; there are certain procedures that i must follow.  i am compelled to consider the rules that have been set out for me, rules that were established long before i gained this post.  and i am compelled to weigh the implications, various though they may be, to any decision that i make.”  he paused for a moment, avoiding Mayor Taulfen’s eyes in the projection disk’s visualization, expecting another excoriating response.  none came; the mayor waited.  with trepidation, Nevert continued, “if i had, for example, a mayoral directive to temporarily circumvent standard procedural regulations, the manpower devoted to the planetarium–”

“whatever directive you want, you’ve got it, Nevert,” the mayor cut in.  “just so long as it gets more men to the scene, so long as it breaks up those hellburnt crowds.  i assume you have some appreciation for your position, Nevert, and, given that you seem to have some limited sense of self-interest and ambition, i would not be surprised if you had designs on some marginal amount of promotion in what’s left of your career.  you have my explicit permission to do whatever it takes to end those riots.”

Chief Elmen Nevert opened his mouth to thank the mayor, but the signal broke off before he could utter a word.  Nevert spent several seconds staring into the blank space where the mayor’s face had been not moments before.  then, all at once, he sprang to action.  he slapped a button on the corner of his desk with an open palm, tapping at his computer controls with the other.  a moment later, Mishhail Tawhn’s voice came though the receiver.

“yeah, Chief.”

“Tawhn, we’re got a direct order from the mayor.”

“Brule–”

“fuck Brule,” Nevert interrupted.  “i just talked to the mayor himself.  he demands that we get every single officer in the city over to the planetarium.”

“but, sir,” Tawhn responded feebly.  “we’ve already retasked–”

“non-essential, essential, i don’t give a shit, Mishhail.  get every cop in Caulmen to the museum district on the double!  i don’t care what station they’re at, how asleep they are, who they’re fucking at the moment, or how drunk they are.  get them to the goddam planetarium!”

“sir,” came the monosyllabic rejoinder.

Nevert ignored his good friend’s implied disapproval.  “on the double!”

the door buzzer crackled through the air.  Nevert ignored it for a moment, relating more detailed instructions to his second in command.  the buzzer continued, demanding his attention.  he cut connection with Tawhn and called for the unknown guest to enter.  it was Gannef, one of the low-level information runners in the CPD office.

“yes?” Nevert demanded.  he worked furiously at his computer controls; so many messages to be sent, and they all needed to go out five minutes ago.

“um, Chief Nevert, um, i’m terribly sorry.”  the man was clearly nervous, on the verge of breakdown.

“Gannef, you better be telling me that Devers has surrendered.”

“sir, i really, really wish i could.”  there was something about the young man’s tone that caught Nevert’s ear.  he was scared, desperate.

Nevert looked up at him.  Gannef carried a pale green folder under his arm.  “what is it?” Nevert asked.

“sir, um, one of the soldiers sent in this capture from his visual recorder.”  Gannef’s lip was trembling.  he wiped a copious amount of sweat from his brow.

“well, let’s have it,” Nevert said, holding out his hand.

“sir, um, Chief Nevert, we have done a full analysis on this image.  we are certain of its, um, authenticity, and, uh and fairly, uh, certain that the person that appears to be in this image, is, uh, well, actually the person that it, uh, appears to be.”

“yes, let’s see it,” Nevert said, shaking his open palm insistently.

“yes, Chief, of course.”  the man did not move.

“Gannef, give me the goddam envelope.”

“yes, sir, of course.”  he paused for another moment, not moving.  finally, as if summoning the will to move a star from its orbit, Gannef, the information runner, took a half-step forward and slid the closed envelope across Nevert’s desk.

the CPD chief snatched the envelope and flung it open.  there were a handful of eight-inch prints inside, but the top picture told him all he needed to know.  the print was grainy, and a bit blurry: evidence of a highly enhanced snapped image from a low-quality helmet camera the CPD officers wore.  Nevert’s eyes first distinguished the shape of Mellor’s body — though the shot was from three-quarters behind the cleric’s head, his silhouette was unmistakable, complete with unkempt hair, long beard, and wooden cane.

Gannef said, “don’t worry chief.  i’m the only one who’s seen it — trust me, i won’t tell anyone.”  there was concern in his voice.

Nevert’s eyes followed the angle of the cleric’s cane from its initial point near Mellor’s ear to the lower-right corner of the image.  the face there was also distorted and unclear, but he recognized it instantly, and with a deep chill.

Leah.

Nevert sat back, stunned.  his eyes widened.

*

“there we go,” Pil Craff said to himself contentedly as he watched the charts and graphs morph and flicker on the screen before him.  he was hoping to have the satellites retasked before Dremmes returned, and everything was falling neatly into place.  plus, he pulled a little trick on one of the more distant satellites so that it might arrive at its newly assigned post quicker than would have been expected.  he might get in trouble for what he’d done — nothing more than a slap on the wrist, at least the first time.  this wasn’t the first time he’d pulled a little stunt like this, of course, but he’d never been caught before, so if he was, it would appear to be his first offense.  besides, he still had a bit of professional pride, and he thought there was an off chance that Dremmes might just be impressed with what he’d managed.

as if on cue, the door slid open and Dremmes entered the bunker.  Pil still felt that familiar and scintillating rush of adrenaline every time he saw her, a feeling that had not diminished in intensity since the first time he laid eyes on her.  “hey,” she said casually.

“hi, er, um, hey,” he responded with an awkward wave.

she slid him a covered tray of food and placed her own at her console.  he opened it.  “roast prell,” he said, delighted.  “my favorite!”

she grinned at him, and opened her tray to reveal an identical meal.  a wordless moment passed between them as they began to eat.  their collective dining was interrupted, though, by the door opening once more.  this time, it was a Caulmen police officer; one of the two that were permanently stationed outside, he presumed.  he spoke in low tones to the other officer, and they conferred for a moment.  finally, their guardian brute spoke to them.  “we’ve been called away on assignment.”

Pil and Dremmes exchanged a startled look.  no security? Dremmes mouthed.  Pil shrugged as the officers exited.  as if as an afterthought, the CPD officer turned and said, “keep the door locked, will ya?”

“sure,” Pil said, his mouth full of roast prell.

“oh boy,” the officer said dubiously.  the door slid closed, and Pil and Dremmes were alone.

she smile at him flirtatiously before taking in a generous bit of her supper.  “hey,” Pil said.  “do you wanna see something cool?”

“mm-hmm,” Dremmes hummed.  she rolled her chair close to his and, shoulder to shoulder, he took her step by step through his sat-retasking wizardry.

*

Afnen set the plate of food on a small, round table in front of Leah’s chair.  two guards, clad in black and wearing the burning red sun emblem, stood behind him.

“we’ll release your restraints,” he said, “so you can eat.  unfortunately, these men have to stay in here until your done.”  immediately, a quiet click and a release of tension told Leah that her bonds were deactivated.  the metal cuffs still encircled her wrists, but they no longer held her arms to the side of the chair.

“that’s a good idea,” she said.  “i haven’t eaten in twelve hours and i’m locked in a sealed room in an underwater wing of a museum teeming with armed guards. clearly, there’s no reason to let me eat in privacy.”

Afnen smiled.  “i see your point.  leave us,” he said to the guards, without taking his eyes off of her.  wordlessly, they obeyed.  “better?”

“you’re still here,” she said bitterly.

Afnen seemed hurt.  he broke eye contact with her, regarded the floor.  she lunged at the food before her, attempting to show less desperation than she felt.  her measure of time had been inaccurate — it had been closer to fourteen hours since she had last been fed, and  hunger clawed at her insatiably.

she could hear them.  she had deduced from whispered gossip between guards and hostages that riots built themselves outside the Rockhewn Planetarium.  they must have reached the shoreline now, and their heavy footsteps and rhythmic chants of protest vibrated through the water and resonated, ever so slightly, in her chamber.

“i cannot leave,” Afnen said, almost humbly.  “i control your bonds; i must stay to make sure you do not escape.  please accept my gesture of dismissing the guards as a sign of good faith.”

her only response was a sarcastic laugh.

“i’m sorry,” he said, quietly.  “i don’t know if you can believe that, but i am sorry.”  she did not answer, but he continued.  “i’m not sorry that i brought you here; i’m not sorry that you’re with us now.  i believe, Leah.  the galaxy is a mess: the worlds are in turmoil.  and we only have ourselves to blame for it.  but Mellor has a way.  i know it.  i have faith that we are doing the right thing.”

“yes,” she said, finally.  “doing the ‘right thing’ always involves kidnapping and terrorism.”

“that is why i am sorry.  i’m sorry that it has required such desperate measures.”

“it hasn’t required any goddam measures, Afnen.”  she looked up at him.  her eyes were drills, boring in to his.  moisture materialized on her cheeks.  “you are responsible for the decisions you make.  i don’t care who’s telling you to make them, or why.  do you believe in the message or the leader?”

“Leah…”

“well?” she demanded, on full offensive.

“both.”

she scoffed disdainfully.  “you think they are one and the same.  open your eyes, Afnen.”  she said no more, and finished her food in silence.  Afnen did not lift his eyes from the floor.  when she was finished, he took the tray from her and engaged the magnetic cuffs, once more locking her hands to her sides.  he exited the room wordlessly, shamefully.

*

getting through the outer gate had not presented a problem.  the single CPD officer had been easily incapacitated, and, once in his booth, the compound’s lighting system had been quickly disabled.  they had expected minimal resistance inside the Caulmen Stellar Compound, but they had met even less.  apparently, the troop reassignment had been more successful than even Mellor had anticipated.

if their maps were correct, the stormdoor at the end of alley led to their target.  as they approached, they found no guards outside.  the door was locked, of course, and they did not have the passcode.  what they had was a small explosive charge.  with a flourish, one of the four men rigged the charge to the latch, and a moment later a quiet hiss accompanied by a brief shower of sparks indicated that the lock had been defeated.  another man approached the door and flipped it open, while the other two trained their weapons on the stairwell.  there was no one inside.  the men looked at each other, surprised.  they moved down the stairs quietly, c-ray blasters aimed at the last door between them and DSB-one-three.  as they drew near, one of the men noticed something.  the indicator panel read something curious.

green letters spelled “UNLOCKED” just above the access panel.  “are you sure this is right?” one man whispered to the others.

“this is the place,” the leader said.  after a beat, he tapped the red sun emblem, the insignia of the Aurorist movement, on his left shoulder.  the others repeated the gesture.

the lead man tapped the access key, and the door slid open without protest.

the room was filled with displays, consoles, interfaces, readouts, and blinking lights of all varieties.  but what drew the attention of the Aurorist were the two pale, naked figures writhing together, half supported by a chair and half by one of the instrument arrays.

“get on the ground, get on the ground!” the lead man shouted.  as if they had been lit on fire, the two Caulmenians sprang into the air, covered their genitals with their hands, and, after only a split second’s hesitation, both were prostrate on the bunker’s cool cement floor.

the lead Aurorist walked closer to them while the other three kept their weapons trained on the two satellite operators.  the leader regarded the two figures — repulsive, both of them. the female was unnaturally proportioned and grossly overweight.  by contrast, the male’s ribs and elbows stuck through his skin.  he appeared as if he was one week’s decay from becoming a dry pile of bones.  “what are your names,” he barked.

the male answered, voice quavering.  “i’m — i’m Pil, and she’s–”

“Pil what?” the Aurorist demanded.

“Pil, uh, Pil Craf.”

“very well.  and the female?”

“please don’t hurt her mister–”

“if you answer my questions,” the Aurorist cut in acerbically, “i might not hurt either of you.  if you don’t answer my questions, i’ll kill you where you lay.”

“yes, mister, i–”

“what is her name,” the Aurorist said, annunciating every word emphatically.

“she’s Dremmes Yent.  please, mister–”

“shut up!” he barked.  “now, show me how to use this thing.  show me how to disable Dulvern’s satellites.”