The Chess Pieces

by Joshua Landeros

  “We’re approaching the airstrip, sir, five minutes,” the driver in front reported before re-closing the visor.

  At word of this Kearney almost instantly felt Jessica’s grip loosen. He watched with malignant pity as she slumped in her seat for a second, wiping her eyes.

  “I promise the new location will only be temporary. Once we get a more concrete grip on the situation you’ll be able to stay with your family. Janet has already told me you’re welcome at their home for as long as you like.”

  Jessica fixed her hair as best she could without a mirror, finding herself unable to look at Kearney. Not in the face.

  “I guess you ought to thank them for the gracious opportunity, since I won’t be seeing them for a while.”

  “Jessica, you know they’re there for you no matter what. You know we all are. But the stability of our whole nation currently rests on this matter’s confidentiality. Please understand.”

  “I do, believe me. And from that letter, I acknowledge Avery knew what was coming. He simply chose to… give in. That’s probably the worst part. I don’t think I’ll ever figure that out. Suppose that comes with the territory.”

  “We can’t be positively sure what happened till we dig deeper. And we will.”

  Jessica was looking at her shaking hands.

  “That murderer has to pay for what he’s done. Everything,” she said.

  Kearney shrunk back into his seat. Venloran had instructed many times that it was official procedure that in scenarios like these, picking off possible perpetrators at the drop of a hat was out of the question. Always be sure who your enemy is. But the UNR was a virtual fortress in itself. To dance around the identity of the suspect would only deride the woman. She knew as well as any of the big brass did.

  “Justice is coming, I swear it,” Kearney assured.

  They both felt the car stop and with a brief glance the window revealed they were on the tarmac. The silver-colored craft sparkled.

  “One of the three UNR cruisers. I see the Chancellor is sending me out in style.”

  “His treat. We will be in contact. Don’t hesitate for any reason.”

  “I won’t, and thank you. Please, tell them I appreciate everything. I really do.”

  She hugged Kearney once more, but this time it was more controlled. She didn’t quiver, though her body still felt as if there were a slouch to it.

  “I suppose you have a flight of your own to catch,” she said

  “Working around the clock has its downsides.”

  For the first time since he’d broken the news to her, Kearney smiled. The door opened, a soldier standing to the side awaiting her exit.

  “I’ll see you around,” she said with an attempt at a grin.

  “Take care.”

  The limousine rushed off, and Jessica was left with her three bags. Immediately, the many soldiers around her gathered up her belongings, heading for the plane. She followed them, insistent on holding at least one of her bags herself. As she approached, though, a sight gave her reason to halt and for her heart to practically stop beating. The brown overcoat, the familiar armor, the sheathed sword, all belonging to a pair of hazel eyes gazing at her. The monstrosity saw her caution and decided to approach her directly. Her expression of fear and anger was not so welcoming.

  “Ma’am, I’m S.S.C. Unit 9-43,” the man bowed. His features were that of an islander, namely due to his tanned skin. His hair was styled in a sleek side comb fashion. The cybernetic process had preserved the dimples of a man in his thirties.

  “You’re to be my chaperone?”

  “We merely intend to create a perimeter once we reach the destination. You’ll never know we’re there.”

  “I see…” she replied, not sure whether she was feeling comforted exactly.

  “I will do anything you ask, ma’am,” Unit 9-43 insisted earnestly, “and I will die before I fail my mission. I promise you that.”

  “Well, let’s start with something simple, soldier. What is your real name?”

  The cyborg was offput by the question, but he rebounded quickly.

  “Ptolemy Jethro, ma’am. You can refer to me as PJ if it suits you.”

  “Okay, PJ, glad to meet you. Shall we board?”

  “Certainly, ma’am.”

  The two of them walked their way up into the aircraft, the temperature inside soothing. Many of the troops began to seat themselves, but one female stood. Her brunette hair was asymmetrically cut. Her alluring figure was noteworthy, but Jessica was looking at other things. This one sported that same armor and uniform, as well as that same 1860 Light Calvary Saber. Despite the subtle unrest in her face, the cyborg pressed on with its greetings regardless.

  “Ma’am, Unit 7-75, reporting for duty.”

  Ptolemy gave a piercing stare, and Unit 7-75 said not another word. Instead, he took care of the introductions:

  “Taraja Nightingale. She’ll be my partner on this assignment.”

  Sensing the atmosphere, Taraja did not step any closer.

  “I will not let you down,” she assured.

  Jessica nodded before moving on to find her seat. The two super soldiers watched as the door to her private wing slid shut.

  “This is off to a grand start,” Taraja said irritably.

  “Don’t take it so personal. The woman has lost her husband,” Ptolemy replied.

  “I know, I know, but still, I can’t stand this panic. We all know who gets the shit end of the stick.”

  “Yup, and there’s only one way to end that: take out that scumbag Unit 21.”

  “It’d be my pleasure. Give me five minutes with him, and I guarantee I’ll end this.”

  “I would not take him so lightly. He’s one of the First Fifty and undoubtedly has some moves left in him.”

  “You sound like you admire him.”

  “I did. He was among those who took down the threat in the 2040s. He helped build the UNR. To hear of what happened at HQ still feels like a dream.”

  “Yeah, it does make you wonder,” said Taraja with a feeling of angst, “if something big is about to happen.”

  “It does feel that way, doesn’t it, Tara?”

  “If so, maybe we can reassemble the New Rough Riders.”

  Ptolemy could see the smile on his partner’s face, and he would have loved to return the expression. The idea had been lingering at the back of his mind ever since April. At his core, however, he knew any reunion would be a façade.

  “Should we? Valerie is gone.”

  Quite unexpectedly, despite the obvious signs of strain, Taraja kept her smile. Her unending optimism was something Ptolemy had dearly missed.

  “Yes, I know, but we all remember the decree: ‘If one knight falls, may another carry their sword.’ She was the first of us to enter Elysium, and we’ll honor her memory with victory.”

  Ptolemy grinned now, feeling at home.

  “As long as Aliss is in, I’m ready anytime you guys are.”

  ***

  Kearney entered into the Chancellor’s wing of the UNR Cruiser. Inside, waiting for him, was Venloran seated on the leather couch. Standing before him was Aliss, who bowed at the sight of Kearney.

  “Sir,” he said politely.

  “Head Commander, a pleasure,” Kearney replied before looking at the defeated face of Venloran.

  “Everything go all right with Jessica?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir, she’s safe and doing as well as she can.”

  “Good to hear. Go on, sit down, Kearney.”

  His assistant did so, sitting down on the same couch as his Chancellor. As soon as he assumed his friend was comfortable, Venloran looked at Aliss.

  “You may proceed, 3-05.”

  “Thank you, honorable sir. Let me say first and foremost that the loss of Major Johnson is intolerable. He was an excellent commander, and he taught me much.”

  Venloran was silent, looking down at his shoes. It was something Kearney hadn’t seen since… April. The quietnes
s loomed much longer than anticipated.

  “Maybe we should reconvene,” Kearney suggested.

  Aliss paid no mind to the request. He stood with his arms behind his back patiently waiting.

  “No, we must do this meeting now. There is much that needs to be done in the coming days. This can no longer wait. 3-05, what is your verdict on the files I gave to you?”

  “I’ll be blunt, sir. Krenzler gravely underestimated the condition of Unit 21. Even Unit 18, taking into account how the April incident unfolded, needed more velocide treatments. From now on, decisive action must be taken. That is why I have taken the liberty of analyzing every member of The First Fifty.”

  “You’ve decided on a plan, then,” said Venloran.

  “Yes, sir. I was thorough and looked for any signs of mental stress. I have identified ten units who have shown signs of instability.”

  “What’s our course of action?”

  “These ten units must be decommissioned immediately. As such all data and neoartium should be harvested from each as well.”

  Both Venloran and Kearney were stunned.

  “And why would velocide treatments not suffice? You said yourself more may have brought an end to Unit 21’s malfunction,” the Chancellor probed.

  “I factored that in as well, Chancellor. Unit 21 had several treatments of varying dosages. Each seemed to deal with the problem for a time but then they would simply come back. As to how, I’m not entirely sure. What matters is cutting this at the stem instead of keeping it at bay.”

  Venloran was now considering this, sending Kearney unconsciously into action.

  “Sir, Unit 21’s history was a complex and disturbing one. But it is not the norm. Please, tread carefully.”

  “Out of the ten I’ve selected, seven have connections to family members or friends who at one point were anti-UNR. The other three are mentally fragile. The easily breakable are just as easy to manipulate. None of them have connections to someone as dangerous as Julissa Marconi was, but removing these units from the equation is the most logical step.”

  Aliss and Kearney had had their say. Now it was time for Venloran’s decision.

  “If Unit 21 was in our custody, this would not be necessary, but because he is not we must move forward with 3-05’s plan. Every day that cyborg evades us the risk increases of him convincing other cyborgs to his side. Kearney.”

  “Yes, Venloran?”

  “Send out the order to bring these units in. 3-05, hand over all needed data to him.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Venloran sat back on the couch now. They could all feel the Cruiser begin to ascend.

  “It’s almost time for the announcement,” he said as he allowed himself to sink into the leather. Such a soft surface for a man whose body was plagued with stiffness and pressure.

  “The invitation will open up a lot of possibilities for us. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for a moment,” Kearny said in certainty.

  ***

  Alyssa slumped over her counter, stirring her steaming mug of coffee. She’d added very little creamer, even less sugar. Her skull was hammered with a series of pestering pangs, but as always, she merely pushed on with her day. Her P.E.C. flashed without warning before a hologram of a delicate flower blooming popped up. The image was as clear as day. The friendly voice of a middle-aged woman spoke aloud:

  “Good afternoon, Alyssa. I hope you slept well. The temperature today is fifty-six degrees—”

  The worn-down woman sighed loudly.

  “Something troubling you?”

  The flower had nearly spread all its petals.

  “Cassie, good afternoon to you, too, but you can remain in sleep mode. I might nod off some more myself.”

  “Actually, Alyssa, there is an urgent message broadcasting on all news and entertainment networks in a half hour.”

  “Can I set to record?”

  “Sorry to inform you, but the PSID deems the message essential viewing for all citizens.”

  “Oh,” Alyssa paused for a moment. “I guess I’ll let you pick the channel.”

  “I’m happy to tell you that your favorite program The Essential Globe will be airing a special afternoon edition for the message. Shall I patch you in directly? All news networks will be sharing the feed.”

  “Yeah, might as well.”

  Alyssa plopped down on her couch as the flower bloomed, initially revealing the UNR emblem and the company logo itself second before going on to the main menu. Automatically, it preset itself to the televised section and switched to the last few remaining minutes of a sitcom rerun. In less than thirty minutes now, this ‘urgent message’ would be disclosed to the public. She felt puzzled by this news. It couldn’t be an execution. Those were held on the eve of the weekends.

  She remembered her visitor two days ago and felt her heart pound slightly. If there was a time to believe in a deity, now more than ever, she was certainly tempted to. What if it was an issue of state enemies, with Alyssa Viramontes as the latest fugitive? In such a situation, she didn’t have the slightest clue what to do. You’re fine, you’re fine. No one knows anything.

  She slowed down on the coffee. If they did, they would’ve broken down the door in my sleep… or are they playing for time? The cyborg had been clear that it would be his first and only house call, and yet she wasn’t sure she could trust that statement. It was beyond her now. All she could do was wait.

  ***

  Glaucon National Public Youth Facility, D.C.

  Joel approached Mrs. Venloran’s desk. In the little light of the darkened classroom, he was careful to avoid bumping into anything. He could still, however, clearly make out a lowly figure slumped over the papers. The posture said it all.

  “Professor, the class is wondering if you wanted the essays right now or at the end of class.”

  There was no response, no movement. Behind the two of them, the telescreen lowered and began to broadcast, bringing light into the room. Only at that did the woman stir. She rose her head, quickly wiping her face.

  “Are you all right?” the boy asked.

  “There are things that come up in life you just can’t control, but I’ll be fine.”

  Janet looked at the child and felt humiliation. It hasn’t even been a year and yet you forgot what he’s been through himself. She stood up and embraced her student. She felt him hug her back.

  “Thank you, Joel. You may be seated.”

  The child obeyed, returning to his desk. The bustle of talking seemed to heighten at his return. Janet knew this was the usual classroom chatter, but today there was no time for it.

  “Quiet down, students, quiet down. This is a priority broadcast.”

  They all silenced themselves and turned toward the screen.

  ***

  The stage lights shined down beautifully, locking on to their celebrated host as he walked through the live audience waving. The limelight quite literally followed him till he got to his would-be desk on the studio set. The audience settled as he put up a hand.

  “Hello, UNR, I’m Steve Oswald, and I’m glad you could join me for this special edition of the Essential Globe. Don’t panic, we’ll still be airing later tonight at our regular time. The UNR HQ has relayed some very stunning news, which will be delivered by our special guest. But first, a memorial for those who have suffered in the series of hurricanes hammering the Cuban and Puerto Rican districts.”

  An on-set P.E.C. displayed the images for the studio audience while in the tech-room the images were broadcast all over the nation. Either way, the things to be seen were horrendous. Once-luxurious cities now had brown water up to the light poles, filled with unsightly amounts of debris. Though some of it was natural, the occasional tree branch or dead pet, most was human trash of the many sorts. Oswald narrated the footage:

  “Hurricane Ilea struck Santiago de Cuba with wind speeds of 185 miles per hour. The toll of victims is still under scrutiny, but estimates are currently in the hundreds. It is a h
arsh reminder that even in times of peace people are sometimes caught in the throes of death. A moment of silence for our fellow UNR people.”

  The audience all bowed their heads along with Oswald.

  “We must honor the brave men and women of the UNR Armed Forces and SSF who are overseas right now carrying out the relief work. Venloran has made a solemn vow to aid the citizens in these areas until they can once again sustain these damaged cities. I am pleased to say he’s held to that vow.”

  The footage now seen was that of the Coast Guard helicopters on scene along with boats full of drenched people. There were no images of a boasting Chancellor, only of a smiling girl receiving her ration of canned foods. The audience clapped vigorously, even more so as the child saluted a passing soldier. They only stopped when the images disappeared completely. Instead, another studio light activated above it shined down on the armchair beside Oswald’s desk.

  “Now, everybody, it gives me great pleasure to welcome our guest: Chief Secretary of Commerce Matthew Redford, senior member of the UNR Cabinet.”

  The audience delivered a warm welcoming as Oswald stood from his chair to clap as well. Redford walked on to the stage from a backway door invisible to the public eye, waving to everyone. He had plenty of white in his beard and thinning hair. The man was a tad heavy but in his spectacular suit he played it off beautifully. After shaking hands with Oswald, both seated themselves.

  “Now,” the host began, “there’s been a lot of hubbub about this rumored International Summit. Could you elaborate on that?”

  “Certainly, but first, the Chancellor regrets that he himself could not appear. As anyone can guess, the summit has us very busy. The International Summit is no rumor, though. Within two weeks it will be live on television worldwide.”

  “And by telescreen, am I right?”

  “No, no, this event will be held face-to-face and within the confines of the UNR itself.”

  The answer put a strange look on Oswald’s face.

  “You literally mean here, in our country?”

  “Right you are, although naturally, for security reasons, I cannot disclose the location yet. Still, I understand it is quite a shock.”

  “Shock is putting it gently, Chief Secretary.”