Our Contest

by Phillip Murrell

“You think you can’t be fired?”

  “I know I can’t. You can’t afford to do it. You need me here. I’m about all the seniority you have left, and that’s not saying much.”

  Benji can’t deny her point. Unfortunately, he knows that she knows this as well.

  “We still have goddamn rules! I know about your recent traffic stop. That guy had to be taken to the hospital for his leg.”

  “What can I say? He was clumsy.”

  “Damn it, Maria, why are you playing these games?”

  “You want to know why, Benji? I’ll tell you why. It’s because force is all the criminals and the regular people respect anymore. They worship vigilantes who kill when they feel like it and get called heroes as a result. I rough up bad people who need the beating, and I have to eat piles of shit served up by you. Even you worship the armored gods.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It isn’t?” Maria questions. “Then how come Smith is still on a payroll? You didn’t seem to care when Karen was outed as Compel. You worship them, too, and the thugs know this. We aren’t their concern anymore; just augments are. Nobody cares about the badge and gun. They just care about shiny armor and augmentations. Somehow we’ve become the JV team over the past year, and nobody gives a damn about the JV team.”

  “Fine. You want me to say it? Fine. Smith is a dirty cop. Karen was a dirty cop. They broke the oath that we swore to uphold. You’re a dirty cop, too. You need to change because you’re right. I can’t afford to lose you, but I can’t keep you on my team if you keep acting up like this.”

  “I’d rather be a dirty cop than a dead one.”

  Maria’s comment wounds Benji. She doesn’t seem to care as she lists the casualties.

  “Let’s see, we’ve lost Mendez, Karen, Carlos, and Love to death. We’ve also lost Smith and Detective Reid to straight up quitting.”

  “Are you finished?” Benji asks.

  “No, don’t forget about Twilleager, Kopp, Kellum, Robinson? I can go on. The list seems never-ending.”

  “I think you’ve made your point.” Benji seethes.

  “Hold on, don’t let me leave out our dear Claire Kennedy, may she rest in peace.” Maria looks directly into Benji’s eyes. “What? Too soon?”

  Benji dives over his desk and tackles Maria in her chair. The sudden outburst takes her unaware. She hits her head hard on the tiled floor.

  Maria easily reverses Benji’s position and pulls her stun gun. Before she presses it against him, she’s yanked off Benji by Captain Hallsey.

  “That’s enough, Pecos!” Hallsey shouts.

  He tosses her into the corner of the room and helps Benji up from the floor.

  “Whatever,” Maria says as she leaves. “I’ve got work to do. I don’t have time to stay here and be lectured on how a proper police officer behaves.”

  Benji is embarrassed by both having lost control of his emotions and for Captain Hallsey seeing him apparently lose to a tiny woman.

  “You okay, Benji?”

  “Yeah,” Benji says as he ruffles his hair. “You know how performance counseling can get.”

  Hallsey laughs. “I do indeed.”

  “We need to fire her,” Benji says.

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d agree, but we can’t. We need cops. I’d rather deal with the lawsuits tomorrow than let an innocent kid die today.”

  Benji understands. “There’s gonna be a lot of lawsuits with that one out there. They’re already starting to come in.”

  “We’ll deal with them as we have to.”

  “If you say so, sir.”

  “Are you okay? You’ve had to deal with a lot of shit lately between Claire’s death and that auggie fight at the parade.”

  “I try not to think about Claire. When they took her, I knew this was the only logical conclusion. You’ve met Claire and saw how aggressive she was with Mother. I just hope it happened faster than that video made it seem.”

  Hallsey rubs Benji’s shoulder, then helps him put his office back in order.

  “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Hallsey suggests.

  “I can’t. My work is all I have left. My fiancée is dead. My friends are dead or gone. My bar was demolished. All I have is in this office.”

  “Don’t give up on me, Benji.”

  “I won’t. I can’t. I love this city too much to let an evil space witch destroy it all. When the Malignant eventually come, I’ll be there firing a shotgun at them.”

  “My man.”

  Hallsey leaves Benji’s office. The police sergeant sits at his desk. He glances over at a smiling picture of Claire and turns it face-down. He then folds his arms and buries his head in them as he sobs.

  Julie waits in The Enterprise board room for Cecilia to show up. She smiles at the thought of taking a second trip to Earth and how she knows there are Templars grumbling about the apparent favoritism. She facilitated the liberty by simply going directly to Abel. Few Templars are willing to speak with Abel. Julie knows that Smith and Votary hold the keys to the temple, but none of them truly intimidate her.

  Cecilia enters the board room and strolls confidently to Julie, at least in her outward appearance. Julie knows she’s an FBI agent, just as she herself once was. Cecilia is the perfect person to preserve her position as The Chairman. Anyone else would use her absence to his advantage, with the possible exception of Henry. Julie allows her mind to wander back to the most recent Speaker and how unfortunate it was that she retired him. She would take it back if she could.

  “Mr. Chairman, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “Not a problem, Cecilia. Just give me the report on our finances.”

  Cecilia looks displeased.

  “It would be a lot better if we stopped doing the police’s job for them. Our customer base has quadrupled since the Malignant arrived. It now appears that normal law-abiding citizens are letting their fear of imminent death and curiosity get the better of them.”

  “Good. Make sure the customers are satisfied. Perhaps some bundle deals are in order. Just make sure our employees don’t give in to the same insecurities.”

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman, we know better than to do that. However, it’s getting harder to keep the employees focused on the task. They see the writing on the wall, same as everyone else.”

  Julie raises an eyebrow. “What writing is that?”

  “The Templars can’t win. There’s no reason to believe this lie about a year break and only two ships fighting. The smarter ones know it’s a ruse to placate the masses.”

  Julie smiles. “Very intuitive. I knew there was a reason I liked you. Your thinking is methodical, like the government’s.”

  Julie feels a rush of excitement when she sees the barely perceptible change in Cecilia’s behavior.

  She’s suspicious, Julie thinks. Good. I’d hate for her to be a complete fool.

  “What do you mean by that, Mr. Chairman?”

  “Nothing. I just enjoy a competent speaker.”

  That seems to alleviate most of the doubt in Cecilia’s eyes.

  “Is there any way the Templars can win?” Cecilia asks with an air of hope.

  Julie is pleased when the answer of “yes” and feasible plans of how fill her brain, courtesy of her augmentation.

  “I believe they can,” Julie answers truthfully.

  “Well, you’re the one with their armor. I’ll take that as a good sign. Do you suppose the Malignant will kill them all and make business easy again for us?”

  Once again Julie is bombarded with information. She sees many of her companions falling in battle, but the nature of the attack changes the probability of which ones. One inconvenient truth haunts her. In every version, she dies. It doesn’t matter if the Templars attack first, or early, or wait for the Malignant. She’ll die be
fore this is resolved. It’s a sobering fact and changes Julie’s priorities.

  “I’m sure there’ll be casualties, but I’ll never allow myself to be enslaved. You need to make sure that the employees realize that death and enslavement are the likely outcomes for them if the Templars fail, so they need to make sure the citizens are safe here. This will allow the Templars to focus on the real threat. They can win. I know they can, and I’ll make sure we do our part.”

  “Then I’ll wear your confidence as my own armor,” Cecilia states. “Is there anything else that you need, Mr. Chairman?”

  “No, Cecilia, that’ll be all. Just make sure you tell everyone what I said about the Templars winning and not giving up.”

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman.”

  Cecilia turns to leave but stops when Julie adds one more thing.

  “Cecilia.”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember that I told you to tell everyone. Don’t leave anyone out.”

  Julie smiles as Cecilia turns again to leave. She knows that she delivered every subtle hint possible to let Cecilia know that her cover is blown. If Cecilia is the professional whom Julie believes she is, Cecilia will continue to play her part, but she’ll speed up the process that will lead to the toppling of The Enterprise. If Julie can no longer be the queen, the whole organization must burn. There are no suitable replacements who will simply give free will to the people over how they enjoy their lives. After the Malignant are defeated, Earth will need calm in order to survive. A power struggle inside the world’s largest and most effective criminal organization is the complete opposite of calm.

  Jenny holds her smartphone to her head as she waits for the person on the other end to answer. Sherry sits near her on the sofa in Jenny’s home. Jenny nervously waits, then eventually gives up. With a sigh, she cancels the call and tosses the phone to her side.

  “No answer, huh?” Sherry asks.

  Jenny somberly shakes her head. “He was so mad. He’s ignoring all my texts and calls.”

  “Girl, you need to forget Keith. I heard he kicked Percy’s ass. How you gonna do that to Percy?”

  “Percy kind of provoked Keith. I was mad in the moment, but now I just want the opportunity to explain myself.”

  “You shouldn’t have to explain yourself,” Sherry declares. “You didn’t sleep with him.”

  Jenny looks away at that comment.

  “Jenny, you didn’t have sex with Percy, right?”

  “Of course not,” Jenny responds. “I just modeled my bikini for him.”

  “Why would you even do that?” Sherry asks. “You know Percy wants you. How did Keith figure it out?”

  “Percy kept calling me Kitten because of the birthmark on my hip.”

  “The one next to your hoo-ha?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damn, girl, how low and tight was that suit?”

  “Low and tight enough to make Keith think of taking it off.”

  “Percy’s a big ass pervert. He must have been staring hard straight at your pussy.”

  “I figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I knew he was looking, but I felt sorry for him. I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend.”

  “That’s cold, girl. At best, you were being a tease, and at worst, you led him on and got him punched in the face for his hope.”

  Jenny covers her face with her hands. “I know. I’m a terrible person.”

  Sherry slides over on the couch and rubs her friend’s back.

  “You’re not a terrible person. You’re the complete opposite, in fact. Keith should know that. He was a basket case until you showed up. That fact alone should give you a chance to explain, again, not that you need to.”

  “Please, can I just borrow your phone? Maybe he’ll answer.”

  Sherry hands her smartphone over to Jenny. The teen dials Keith’s number and repeats her waiting game. The results are no different. Jenny hands the phone back, defeated.

  “He’ll come around,” Sherry says. “If he doesn’t, I’ll give him a piece of my mind. He can’t treat you like this.”

  “It’s my fault.”

  “No, it isn’t. Let’s go over to his house and fix this.”

  “I can’t. He left his Dad’s place and went back to Colberton.”

  “Then go to Colberton.”

  “My parents won’t let me take the car that far. Especially not when they know my goal is to get some make-up sex.”

  “Maybe you don’t ask for permission.”

  Jenny considers this. She looks at her friend, and Sherry flashes her a half smile.

  “Maybe,” Jenny muses.

  Mitch and Smith hold hands as they stroll through the never-ending corridors of the Vengeful ISH. Smith is completely at peace and looks at the second man to fully own his heart. He’s also happy that the lingering guilt of Lou that would normally accompany a thought like that no longer pesters him.

  Smith looks down at Mitch, and the smaller man looks back into his eyes.

  “What?” Mitch asks.

  “I love you,” Smith says.

  “I love you, too, Bill.”

  The two men kiss and continue to walk.

  “What do you want to see today?” Smith asks.

  “How about the spaceships?”

  “Again?”

  “I love them. They’re so sexy.”

  “Spaceships it is then.”

  The two lovers work their way toward the bay. Inside, they find it deserted and barely lit. Smith thinks the atmosphere is somewhat romantic with the orange glow from the reflected surfaces sporting the Malignant primary color.

  Inside the bay are three ships. The two pristine trig fighters that Leebuch brought to “even” the odds of the upcoming battle and the aged Valhalla. Smith has grown an affection for the Templar transport and hopes Votary will give up the reins so he can fly it in battle. He highly doubts this wish will be fulfilled.

  Mitch rubs his hands along the hull of the Valhalla after obviously noticing how much Smith admires it.

  “You want to take her for a ride?” Mitch asks.

  “Maybe after we win.”

  “What if you don’t?” Mitch asks.

  “Don’t think like that, baby.”

  “We have to. I’m not one of the ignorant fools back home. I can see the never-ending line of ships outside of our single one. We can’t beat them.”

  “We’ll figure out a way.”

  Smith steps around Mitch and grabs him in a hug from behind. Mitch closes his eyes and rests his head on the Valhalla.

  “Why don’t we just take one and fly away from here?” Mitch asks.

  “Don’t ask me to abandon the team,” Smith sternly responds.

  “I was just joking,” Mitch says.

  Smith isn’t sure that’s the truth. He sees the fear in Mitch’s eyes. He knows his boyfriend experienced trauma as a hostage, and even his rescue left him with the occasional nightmare, frequently starring Abel.

  “Where to next?” Smith asks, hoping to steer the conversation into an area not ripe for an argument.

  “Do you ever think of just joining the Malignant to save yourself?” Mitch asks.

  “Never,” Smith quickly answers. “Death isn’t new to me. It doesn’t scare me. Dishonor does. I’ll never dishonor my team nor my country.”

  Smith looks out a window at the infinite blackness of space.

  “Make that my planet,” Smith corrects.

  “I wouldn’t think less of you if you did.”

  “I know,” Smith says as he turns Mitch to face him. “But I would.”

  The two men stand in silence as they hold each other. Smith feels the strong beat of Mitch’s heart. The pace is quick. Smith knows his boyfriend is trying to calm his panic.

  “Why don’t w
e go get something to eat?” Smith suggests.

  “Sounds like an excellent idea,” Mitch agrees.

  The two men walk toward the door they entered through and are slightly surprised when it opens before reaching the activation point. On the other side of the door is Abel in his gray hoodie.

  “I’m sorry,” Abel says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt a lover’s stroll.”

  “You’re fine, Abel,” Smith says.

  He feels Mitch’s grip on his hand tighten as they near Abel. Smith decides to help Mitch see Abel as a regular person with an augmentation, just like he is.

  “What brings you down here, Abel?” Smith asks.

  “Like you, I just felt like wandering. I always liked things that could fly, and these trig fighters are different than I remembered them.”

  “Gonna sit in the cockpit and pretend to fly one?” Smith teases.

  “I just might,” Abel responds with a warm smile.

  Smith senses that Mitch is reaching his melting point now that they’re in arm’s reach of Abel. He opts to end the mild torment.

  “Alright, Abel. We’ll see you later. My stomach’s grumbling and Millantra told me that I had to try something called Glukenschpine pie. I hope I’m pronouncing that right.”

  “Close enough,” Abel says with a chuckle. “I hope you like it.”

  Abel laughs again to himself.

  “With a response like that, I feel like we’re walking into a trap.”

  “No trap,” Abel says. “I’m just remembering my own experience with it as a boy. It’s delicious, but you don’t realize how sweet and light it is. It’s exceptionally easy to overeat, then find yourself in the bathroom for the rest of the day.”

  “One slice only, noted,” Smith says with a small laugh.

  “Have fun,” Abel says.

  Smith escorts Mitch out of the bay, and the men continue to the ship’s galley.

  An old man enters a modest home filled with several relatives.

  “Look what I found in the fields,” the man announces with an Irish accent.

  The other occupants of the home, seven individuals in all, turn and look. Behind the first man who entered the home is Patrick.

  “Da!” a man in his forties announces.