by Drew Avera
I sacrificed as well, but it felt as if the end of giving was still not over. I truly lost everything I held dear last night.
I took a seat on the barstool overlooking the kitchen counter and poured myself a drink. The dark whiskey sloshed in the glass and the smell of it made me dizzy for reasons unknown. Through tears I miscalculated the pour, causing it to flow over the lip of the glass and onto the counter. At any other point in my life, I would have cleaned it up. But for now, I had no desire to bother with anything beyond my next breath, and even that was up for debate.
"What am I supposed to do now?" I asked the universe, expecting silence. What followed was a hard thud on the front door sounding like someone kicked it.
I wiped the tears from my face and reached for my weapon, forgetting it was being held by the Guard until they concluded their investigation. I settled for a kitchen knife instead, pulling it from its perch in the oak block near the sink. The stainless-steel blade cast reflections off the light peering through the window and sent those reflections dancing against the walls and ceiling as I approached slowly.
I knew it had to be Tetrim, or at least one of his men, coming for me. He was precisely the kind of coward to hide behind men with guns instead of standing to fight on his own.
It was a shame really. What I would not give to show him what a real man was capable of.
The thud returned, this time with a sound reminiscent of a person drooping against the door, their body sliding its way down until the floor stopped them. I wanted to ask who was there but giving away that I was home was a quick way to alert the offender of my presence. At least if they thought the apartment was empty, then I might stand a chance at surprising them. I needed every advantage I could get.
A slamming sound occurred just as my hand touched the doorknob. I hesitated a moment, my heart pounding in my ears. I reasserted my grip on the knife and prepared myself for a fight. I was scared, but fear was a weapon if used properly. It was something my old partner used to say. Of course, that was before he was killed doing what he was afraid of. Life had a way of teaching us all lessons in the cruelest means possible.
I turned the doorknob slowly, careful not to make a sound. As I eased it open, a weight bared down on the door, shoving it in my direction. I took a quick step back, trying to assess the situation through fear and borderline panic.
Sprawled before me was an out of breath man, bloodied and swollen. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice high. The longest twenty-four hours of my life wasn't over yet, I thought as I stepped aside to get a better look at him. When he looked up at me, I caught a glimpse directly in his eyes, that was when I realized who it was. Holy hell, I thought, on the verge of collapsing.
"They're coming for me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
My first thought was, why should I care? For all I knew, this man had a hand in killing my wife. Whatever came for him had the added benefit of doing me a favor while keeping my hands clean. Then again, if he was dead, then how could I prove my innocence? "Who is?"
He shoved himself back and away from the door, kicking it shut with his foot before replying. "The Agency. They want to silence me since you informed the Guard of my existence." The cold, nonchalant and disassociated tone of his words set me back. Was he really putting his problems on me?
"Why is that my problem?"
The man scoffed, the gesture wholly familiar, and unsettling. "Because if I die, then so does the truth."
I knelt down, the knife still in my hand. I watched as he eyed it warily. I didn't bother putting him at ease by setting it down. If anything, it empowered me. "What truth is that?" I asked. Skepticism oozed from my voice. With every fiber of my existence, I expected him to lie to me. Why shouldn't he? Then again, why come to me unless he had something to say?
"It's a long story. You might want to sit down, Halem." The way he looked at me when he said my name led me to believe that this man knew me. Not just who I was but knew me on a personal level.
"Who are you?" I rose as I waited for his response, the pointed end of the knife aimed directly towards his heart. I was ready to end him if what he said didn't satisfy my curiosity.
"That's part of the long story, brother. Don't you think it's time you know the truth too?"
"If you have something to say, then do it. Otherwise, I'll haul you into the Guard myself. Or, I can let the Agency have their way with you. Whoever they are."
He nodded, his eyes suddenly saddened and I couldn't tell why. Not until he spoke.
"My Agency name is Castor, but that wasn't who I was born as," he began. "You knew me as Doran."
I dropped the knife at the sound of a name I hadn't heard spoken out loud in years. If this was indeed my old partner, then the truth was about to slam into me like a transport. "Doran?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice hardly recognizable. But his eyes said it all as he peered up at me.
"What did they do to you?" I had no idea who "they" were, but I knew it had to be some terrible entity that would put a different face on my one-time best friend. He was my partner until he died, a memory that followed me in all of my darkest moments.
He sighed, edging himself towards the wall to lean against it as he spoke. "They needed ‘volunteers' for a program designed to perform body transplants. They wanted to use the technology to harvest new bodies for people dead or dying to extend life expectancy. The call we received about the bomb in the tunnels, that was their recruiting tool. When they blew the tunnels out, they had a hidden access to retrieve us."
"Us?" I asked. "There's more like you?"
"Yeah, but that's not my point. My point is, they used the technology to build a secret team of assassins. We don't exist, but we're here nonetheless. That's why they used me to kill Marada. They needed to get her out of the way to open negotiations for the artificial atmosphere technology."
"What does the artificial atmosphere technology have to do with you?" I asked.
"To launder the money to pay for this program, I guess. The legacy Tetrim Rine talks about isn't the artificial atmosphere initiative he goes on about. It's what that initiative will pay for as he siphons funds into building an army of people like me."
"This is unbelievable." I paced the small living room as he watched me. "Why are you coming to me about this now? Why not tell me before ruining my life?"
"If I could have, I would have, Halem. My life isn't mine to live anymore. I'm compelled to do these things as if I'm not in control of my own actions."
Something in that statement resonated with me and gave a sinking feeling. "Are you in control now?"
I turned to look at him and noticed he was standing, no longer looking on the verge of passing out. "I'm sorry for what I have to do. They're making me do it. Believe me when I tell you I don't want to."
I watched him inch closer to me, his eyes moist with tears. And then he leaped towards me, his hands extended towards my throat. Behind him lay the knife, my only means of self-defense. That and my instincts. But I stopped trusting those a long time ago.
Before I could count to three, his hands were on me, grabbing my neck and squeezing with all his might. My part of the fight felt like an out of body experience, lest the pain of his fingers digging into my flesh, and the darkening of the room as oxygen deprivation lulled me closer to my flame extinguishing permanently.
Oddly enough, I was prepared to die. Almost ready for it.
But it did not come.
Instead, the man now known as Castor howled in pain and collapsed onto the floor next to me. Writhing in pain, he curled into the fetal position and shook between sobs. Part of me wanted to watch him suffer. The other part wanted to comfort him if he was ever my friend. Both sides battled until a decision was made.
I reached for the knife and readied it in my hand.
All it took was a downward stab and I could end his suffering and exact my revenge in one fell swoop.
That was all I had to do, but something kept me from carryi
ng it out. I did not know if it was guilt or fear holding me back. Either way, I knelt on the floor with the knife raised for several seconds before I realized his episode had ended.
Castor looked at me, his face a mix of rage and confusion. His eyes narrowed into slits as a scowl formed to replace the misery on his face from before.
He hopped to his feet and I was certain it was over, that I failed to act when I had the chance and now I would pay for it dearly. But this time he leaped past me as a shot rang out from the doorway which now stood open with three dark-clad men stood in the doorframe, their weapons aimed in my direction.
The projectile struck Castor and sent him to the floor. I realized instantly that these weapons were military grade, nothing like the ones I used on the force. As I looked down at Castor bleeding on the floor, I knew I had nowhere to go. It was fight or die. Or both.
I knew which I would choose.
16
Tetrim
The door shoved open without a knock as Cherum barged in. "Did you hear the news?" He sounded out of breath, which was a shame considering his office was three doors down from my own. I imagined he's probably paced his office for several minutes before deciding to grace me with his presence. I wished he hadn't and he was only five words into his diatribe.
"What news would that be?" I asked with indifference in my voice. There were hundreds of reportable actions taking place in Archea daily. If he expected me to keep up, then he was best served by not asking open-ended questions with only one correct answer. Considering I had my ear to the floor for all news related to Halem, I figured Cherum had nothing on Marada's widower.
"Shots fired in Outer Downtown. I think it was your people." The inflection in the way he said, "your," was not lost on me. He blamed me for this mess and he carried his resentment on his sleeve.
"I'm aware," I said, pointing at the newsfeed scrolling across the wall-mounted screen. He looked at it for a moment before returning his attention to me. "You're thinking this is my problem, aren't you?"
"You catch on quick. If not yours, then whose? It's a veritable warzone out there. Do you really think the Guard will stand up to these people if they turn their attention to you?" His gross over-complication of the situation would have been funny if not for the acute desperation in his voice. It border-lined on irritating.
"I thought we went over this, Cherum. Marada's death will not come back on me. I've implemented the necessary steps to ensure that at least. Not only that, but I keep the Agency on a tight leash. Perhaps you should be diligent in your own assurances that no one finds out about your involvement," I said through my teeth.
"You dug this hole for me, Tetrim. The least you could do is provide me with a way out if this goes to hell. And by the attention of this stunt, I would say hell made its way here sooner than even you expected." Cherum paced my office with his hands deep in his pockets. He was usually so well reserved that I found it odd how just a little pressure brought this out of him. I was relieved knowing his position required no real governing prowess. He would splinter under the pressure if he was to make his own decisions.
"I did dig the hole, but I'm not wasting my time doing for you what you can do for yourself. To all the citizens of Archea, yours is the highest position on this planet. You help control Archea and the seven colonies currently under construction. Surely, you can find the intestinal fortitude to stand up on your own two feet and come out ahead of this. Otherwise, maybe you never deserved your esteemed position, to begin with."
He paused a moment and glared at me as if he wished to set fire to my little corner of the office. A lot of good it would do. Every piece of correspondence was encrypted with his image affixed to it. If I was dead, then the truth died with me. Either way, he was up a creek without a paddle, as the old saying went.
"Fix it, Tetrim. Or I'll be forced to show my hand."
I stopped looking at my screen and eyed him warily. "What hand would that be, Cherum?"
"I'll reveal everything," he said, the quiver in his voice betraying his new-found confidence. He was a chump to think I would play that easily into his hand.
"You mean you would reveal the part you played in manipulating the World Council to enact change at the expense of tax payer's while profiting from them yourself? Or maybe the part you played in keeping the Agency off the books after the Council chose to end the program? Your hands are dirty, Cherum. It doesn't matter how much you try to wash them. They still stink."
"Go to hell. You put me up to all those things under false pretenses. I never would have agreed to those things if you told me the truth in the first place."
"Yet, the power I provided you, and the luxury of your current life, you never once protested after those horrific truths were revealed. Instead, you kept pushing forward at every suggestion I made, loyal like a dog to the hand feeding you. I'm sure a jury would see what kind of evil lies in a man without the spine to stand up to do the right thing. As far as your threat is concerned, why don't you do it? If you're man enough for the consequences, then you have my blessing. Otherwise, you can sit down and shut your mouth like a good little puppet."
"You're not going to win that easily, Tetrim," Cherum said as he pulled a device from his pocket. "Gotcha."
As the recording device reflected the overhead lighting, I felt a tinge of pride in the way he finally stood up to me. It was a naïve gesture, to say the least, but a bold move nonetheless. Then again, any animal will fight when cornered. "You might want to try playing whatever data you think you collected before celebrating prematurely."
"What?" He looked at me dumbfounded. I could see he was stunned by the fact his threat slipped right off my shoulders and didn't bother me at all.
"You really don't think I took the necessary steps to prevent unauthorized recording devices from entering my office? You're ignorant if you imagine I would allow a lapse in security when I conduct business best kept in the shadows."
I watched as he looked at the device, the power light not even illuminated because of the anti-surveillance system I had in place. It was nothing more than deadweight in his hand.
"Gotcha," I said. "Now, get out."
He left the room like a scolded child, his shoulders slumped and his lips on the verge of quivering. I didn't intend to treat him so coldly, but the sudden spring of audacity coming from him was unsettling. I expected him to do his part and continue in his role. Instead, he would refute me to my face. It was almost worthwhile to let the evidence of his involvement be discovered by the Guard as a lesson to never cross me.
"That's not a bad idea," I muttered as I reached for the private line and called my inside man.
"Detective Gosney," he answered on the second ring. It was exactly what I paid him for.
"It's Tetrim, we need to talk."
"Yes, sir. I'm free now if this is a good time for you. I'm just doing paperwork. Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." His willingness to drop everything at my beck and call was in stark contrast to the attitude I just received from Cherum.
"Can you come here?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Give me twenty minutes and I'll be in your office."
"Thank you. We have things to discuss."
"Understood. I'm on my way."
The line went silent and I reclined back in my seat, looking out at the glinting of light reflecting off the dome in the distance. If I squinted, I could make out the outline of the dome partially covering Clenist, the next largest city after Archea. Or at least it would be when construction was finalized. The expansion of humanity across this dead planet was my legacy. We could no longer afford to be a single colony if our species was to thrive. We needed to be global. That meant recreating Earth on this barren terrain and forcing our future onto it in the same way empires once did.
This is what I wanted to create on this Martian landscape, after all. An empire. But empires fall without an army to protect them. I knew the Guard well enough to know they would not willingly vi
olate the law for the good of the whole. That was what intrigued me most about the Agency.
They would do anything I asked of them. Short of the current flaw in the plan, they hadn't completely failed me yet. This was just growing pains, after all.
I rose from my seat and looked out the window, the nighttime landscape of lit buildings and moving transports danced before my eyes. I watched the neon advertisements dance across the towering buildings overlooking the city. The movement of the lights made the city feel alive, even when no one was on the streets. This was just the beginning of the future I saw for Mars. Why it was so difficult to convince others of the vision I had was beyond me, but I was dedicated to the cause. I would be the godfather of the future of Mars. I knew it as I knew the back of my hand. It was damn near prophetic.
I lost myself in thought when a knock at the door stirred me.
Moving towards the door, I activated the only authorized recording device in the room. Pulling the door open, Detective Gosney stood there, looking tired, but otherwise in good spirits. "Gosney, thank you for coming on short notice."
"My pleasure, sir," he replied, stepping into the office as I shifted out of the way. He took a seat as I moved around my desk. "Is this regarding the Scrimpshire file?"
I fought the smirk itching to reveal itself. The detective was the type of person to think ahead; proactive instead of reactive. He was like me in that way. "Yes. Things are getting out of hand with this investigation. I am not pleased that Officer Scrimpshire was released. He should have been held for the seventy-two-hours at a minimum."
Gosney nodded. "I agree, but there were circumstances we were not prepared for. I believe by allowing him to leave that we might be better able to control the situation."
