by Glynn James
“But. What? How?” Brannigan asked, his annoyance rising. “NE7 was destroyed. No one could survive that detonation. Who is on the line, officer?”
“First Corporal Lisa Markell,” the comms officer said. “One of the security officers from the facility.”
“Put her through,” Brannigan said.
“Yes, sir. Patching the conference signal through to you now.”
A large box appeared on the screen, the usual spinning circle indicating a delay in connection. Brannigan rarely spoke to anyone outside of the Inner Zone, so the delay was normally only a second or so, but this connection took twenty seconds before stabilising. Brannigan clicked an icon on the box and the conference image expanded to fill the whole screen.
He was looking at a large table in a well-lit room, with four people seated facing him. One of the four seemed to be talking to whoever was holding the camera that was filming them. Brannigan turned the speaker volume up so he could hear what was being said.
“Are we through?” asked the man on the screen. The man squinted, then seemed to look straight at Brannigan. “Ah! Yes. Looks like it’s working. Put it on the tripod and leave us, please.”
The image wobbled for a few seconds, but then went perfectly still. There was the sound of footsteps on metal, then the click of a door closing.
“Can I presume that I am speaking to Governor Brannigan, High Administrator?” the man on the screen asked.
Brannigan was silent.
“I apologise. I should have introduced myself. My name is Ranold. I’m First Councillor for the North-East Republic. Beside me is Councillor Tyler, our head of public relations, and Councillor Avery, head of—”
“What North East Republic?” Brannigan said. He could feel his face turning red. “What are you talking about? There is no North-East Republic.”
The man on the screen nodded. “There wasn’t a week ago, when Governor Jackson, the previous occupant of this facility, attempted to kill several thousand people, but in the week that has passed, we have established much.”
“Who are you people?” Brannigan asked. “Are you those terror fighters I’ve heard reports of? Those junk people.”
“I was attempting to make introduction…” the man said.
“Introductions? Have you seized our facility?”
“No, Governor. We attempted to do so, then your Governor Jackson blew the facility up – or tried to. Fortunately, thanks to a few brave individuals among our staff, and their ingenuity under very stressful circumstances, the explosion happened roughly fifteen kilometres above the facility instead of on the ground. It was little more than an interesting firework display. Technically, you destroyed your facility, and we claimed the remains.”
“We will not sit by and let you take—”
“We already apprehended your first group of investigators. Now, before you worry, I can assure you they are perfectly safe, and they will remain so. But, so that you know, before planning any further incursions into our territory, I can promise you that we have taken measures so that no one can come within ten miles of our new capitol via the Trans tunnel without our permission. We will be extending our control over the tunnel out to fifty miles within a few weeks.”
“This is theft. It’s invasion.”
“No, sir, it’s reclamation. This land was occupied before you arrived here, and now the Free People of the North-East Republic have taken it back. With minimal hostility, I will mention.”
Brannigan was silent once more. He had no words. Nothing came to mind. There was little he could do. No transport other than the Trans could reach that far out. The Dropships certainly couldn’t go out even a tenth of the distance.
“Now, we need to discuss our trade situation. We realise your dependence upon the commodities found in the Junklands is of high importance, and as much as this seems like a hostile takeover, we would rather negotiate a trade deal and a peaceful co-existence.”
“Why on Earth would we want that?” Brannigan asked.
“Let me hand you over to Officer Markell, who was and still is a first lieutenant in your military forces. She has something interesting for you. Intel that was gathered by our people, nonetheless, and offered, freely, to you as a gesture of our goodwill and hope for a mutually beneficial settlement of the current situation.”
The woman on the screen nodded and cleared her throat. “Governor Brannigan. I’m First Lieutenant Lisa Markell. I used to head some of the expeditions out here, and I’ve some critical information regarding the practices of Governor Jackson.”
Brannigan’s eyes narrowed. He was ready to shout, ready to curse at them all, but this sounded interesting. “Go on.”
“We have evidence that Jackson has been illegally acquiring some extremely high value goods and shipping them to the Inner Zone for sale through underground methods. He has also been holding back and acquiring some components that we know are extremely difficult to acquire and critical for your project with the Ark ships. We also believe that Jackson may have made his way back to the Inner Zone and is at this moment in possession of a large amount of these goods. All indications from my investigation here point toward the attempted destruction of this facility to cover his tracks. I can provide a lot of information if you need it, but I would suggest that apprehending Jackson should be a high priority.”
Brannigan stared at the screen, ready to explode with fury, but he calmed himself. It seemed that his anger should be directed elsewhere. “What you suggest Jackson has been doing is highly treasonous behaviour, Officer. Those are some very serious accusations.”
“Yes, Governor,” Lisa replied. “And as I said, I have solid evidence to back them up that I could bring back with me, if a negotiation could be agreed with the New Republic. There is also a reasonable number of Inner Zone Troopers here, including myself, that need to be repatriated.
“Also, can I just say that The North-East Republic has been very helpful and open with my investigation over the last week, and the treatment of Inner Zone Troopers has been very good. After listening to the Republic’s plans, as far as trade and co-operation is concerned, I think you would do well to at least listen to what they have to say. The deal the council is willing to offer you is quite exceptional. It may possibly be more profitable than holding and operating these facilities yourself.”
Drawing In
Two days later…
Jackson stood in line at the bottom of the escalator. There were three people in front of him – an old gentleman, who seemed to be struggling to stand up straight, his left hand gripping a small travel bag tightly, the other holding onto the handle of a walking stick, and a young couple in front of him. Jackson mostly ignored the older man, but the young couple bugged him. They were cheerful and clutched at each other, obviously excited to be making the one-way journey up into orbit.
How the hell had they afforded this? That was what was bugging him. At twenty thousand credits per person, this young pair had to have stumped up a hefty forty thousand to be going. Rich parents, maybe? Neither of them looked older than twenty. Had to be rich parents.
This thought made him hate them even more than their being before him in the queue, and he couldn’t stop himself from glaring at the backs of their heads, even as the security gate stopping access to the escalator lifted and a light on a nearby panel turned green. The pair squeezed each other’s hands tighter as they stepped onto the moving stairway and began the long journey up to the platform, two hundred feet above.
Then the gate closed once more, and the light turned red.
Back to waiting.
He glanced behind and then immediately cheered up. There were a hundred or more people in the queue behind him, and the thought that they would all have to wait until he was allowed to board the ship was somehow gratifying.
He looked around the massive hangar. The building was at least fifty stories high, big enough to contain the shuttle and its launch platform, along with all the extra machines needed to mai
ntain the thing. It was the first time he’d even seen one of the shuttles up close. Sure, he’d seen them launch before, many years ago, back when he lived in the city. They were hard to ignore. One would launch and then return after a few days, the journey up into orbit being loud, the journey back down quiet enough that you could miss the shuttle’s arrival if you weren’t watching at the right time of day.
And only half of the shuttle was filled with people, he thought. The other half was chock full of the materials needed to build the next Ark and a stack of supplies for the one that was leaving soon.
How long had some people been living up on the orbital station, now that it was just a few days until the Ark ship left? They travelled up there constantly, so theoretically there could be people up there who had been waiting for nearly a year?
That was not a thought that cheered him, and he was glad to be leaving just as the ship was ready to head off to the new world.
The green light blinked on once more, and the old man in front of him wobbled forward, seeming to take forever to reach the gate.
If you don’t hurry up the damn gate will shut, Jackson thought. He stared at the old man’s back, willing him to move faster. Every moment the old waste of space took to get onto the escalator was another moment that he would be waiting.
Calm yourself, he thought. This is it. It’s almost over. He patted his jacket pocket and took a deep breath. Everything was ready. He was on his way, finally leaving this terrible place, and the rigid wallet in his pocket contained everything he could possibly need for a lifetime. He was rich beyond any of his dreams.
This is what it had all been about, all this waiting. The goods were sold, and the price had been as promised. There was more credit on the card in his pocket than any man could ever need.
The old man finally stumbled onto the escalator and wavered, his limbs protesting gravity as he was jerked forward. He reached out and grabbed the rail to steady himself, and Jackson watched as he began his slow ascent to the boarding platform.
I’m next, he thought. Just a few minutes to go. If that old idiot doesn’t fall off.
“Governor Jackson.” A metallic voice spoke from behind him. He almost jumped out of his skin, but instead he managed to hold his composure as he turned to see a squad of four Troopers standing behind a tall man wearing a long grey coat and flat military cap. It was an officer’s cap, and Jackson glanced at the insignia on the man’s shoulder.
IZS. Internal Zone Security.
“Yes,” Jackson replied, feeling a slight sweat break out in his armpits.
They were here to escort him, surely. A man of his rank deserved such. In fact, he thought, they should have been there to meet him upon arrival and take him to the front of the queue, to guarantee his safety.
“Sir,” said the officer. “Please step away from the gate and place your arms out straight.”
Jackson frowned. “What? What for?”
“Please do as I say,” said the officer. “And please do not attempt to reach into a pocket. Any sudden movement will be met with measurable force.”
“Measurable… What is going on here?”
The officer was fast, much quicker than Jackson had expected or was prepared for. One moment his hands were at his side, and the next, Jackson found the muzzle of a heavy assault pistol pointing at his face.
“Governor Jackson,” said the officer. “You will comply without further question.”
Jackson found he was shaking, but he managed to put his arms out, his hands palms up. This was ridiculous, he thought. How could they possibly have found him out?
But then he saw her in the distance, standing next to two other Troopers. Her uniform was not the same as she had worn when on duty, back at the NE7 Facility. No, it was blue, like that of a senior officer rather than a first lieutenant. To wear the blue meant she had been given a significant promotion – to major, at least.
And there was only one way he could think she could have managed such a promotion in such brief time.
First was by not being dead. He had last seen her as he raced away into the Trans tunnel, leaving his poor badly wounded assistant behind, and Markell and her co-officer – whose name he couldn’t remember – helpless on the platform where the bomb was.
She should be dead. They should all be dead.
She watched him, expressionless, as the officer and two of the Troopers restrained him, placing him in cuffs and a neck collar, and Jackson couldn’t help but grin.
The facility hadn’t been destroyed, he now realised. Somehow, they had stopped it. He didn’t know how, but they had.
Jackson became aware that the officer was talking, reciting something. What was that?
“…right to say nothing. Everything you say will put on record and used in court. The IZS has a full list of charges against you, and you will be able to review them once you are placed in captivity, but the charge of high treason is the first and most prominent charge, and there is unquestionable evidence of that against you. You are probably aware of how serious these charges are…”
Jackson switched off from the man’s voice, choosing to ignore it, and instead he glared at Markell.
High treason came with only one penalty.
What Lies After
One month later…
Jack leaned back in the chair next to the corner desk, where a monitor buzzed quietly. The small room had once belonged to one of the officers at the facility, but it was one of only a few dozen that shared the main compound’s air conditioning, and that was a luxury that Jack was glad of.
Ryan sat on the bed a few feet away, reading a comic book that he had found somewhere in the stores. The boy had been hunting around the facility for weeks now, and he had uncovered all manner of interesting stuff, tucked away in dark corners and locked cabinets. The pile of comic books was his most treasured find.
“I notice you’ve been over at the medical bay most afternoons,” Jack said, grinning as the boy blushed. “How is Hayley doing?”
“She’s recovering really well,” Ryan said. “Well, that’s what the doctor says. They’re not sure if she will walk again, though. I only go there because she must get bored. She seems to like me reading my comics to her. Or she just doesn’t tell me to go away.”
“I’m sure she enjoys it,” said Jack.
“The doc says that they plan to move her back to a hospital in the Inner Zone soon,” said Ryan. “But they have to do one more operation so her back is strong enough.”
“I see,” said Jack. “You’ll miss her, won’t you?”
Ryan shrugged. “She’s funny. But I guess if we go to the New World, like they offered us, then I won’t see her again, anyway.”
“We don’t have to go,” said Jack. “It’s all up to us, for once. No one to tell us what to do. It’s a difficult decision to make. I’m not in any hurry to make it.”
Ryan nodded and managed to look up from the comic. “What do you want to do?”
Jack thought about it for a while. It was a life changing decision, and he was never keen to make those. “Well, the New World is supposed to be a lot cleaner, but it will probably be a lot like the Inner Zone.”
Ryan frowned. “In what way?”
“Well, for starters, there won’t be anywhere near as much freedom. Unless we go out there loaded with cash, I’d probably need to find work somewhere. We’d need to find a place to live, and that will cost money.”
“Yuck,” Ryan said. “I know we have to start all that, now that this Republic thing is happening, but I prefer swaps.”
Jack nodded. “Also, we couldn’t just go live anywhere we wanted. Not like here. You know, I found an amazing spot not more than twenty miles from this place, while we were scoping out that water plant. There’s a whole patch of land out there that is flat and not covered in junk. Even some trees. Well, sort of trees. They’re a bit stunted.”
“No smelly swamp?” Ryan asked.
“No smelly swamp, but some huge, empty
reservoirs that Hyde says were originally for storing excess water from the water plant. He thinks that if the plant could be brought up to higher production, it could provide clean water for a lot of people and probably fill those reservoirs again.”
“What?” Ryan asked. “Like real lakes?”
“Yeah, I think. Real lakes,” Jack said. There’s a lot of work to be done out there, first, though, and FirstMan even suggested that if I was interested, I could probably head the operation.”
“Governor Avery?” Ryan said, frowning. Jack could sense the sarcasm hidden there.
“No,” Jack said. “Apparently, that title is banned. I’d still have to keep the title councillor, since they put me on their damn council.”
Ryan was quiet.
“Well, think about it, anyway,” Jack said. “It’s an option among many. Hell, Lisa even said we could live in the Inner Zone if we wanted to, now that all the negotiations are underway and things are less volatile, though she is leaving on next year’s Ark so we wouldn’t know anyone, and I’m not sure I even want to go back there.”
Ryan nodded. “The New World. I don’t know. I think I like this one, even if it’s a bit old and worn.”
Jack smiled. “Yeah. Old and worn. I know how it feels.”
THE END
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Acknowledgements
Thanks to all of the Jameses – Julia, for your patience and constant encouragement, and my kids, for just being you.
To my parents and my brother for not being too surprised that I write crazy fiction, and for telling me it’s cool.
