“It’s all right,” Windsor said to the guards. “Mandan, for Christ’s sake, control yourself!” Meanwhile McKenna was close to walking out of the room. He kept thinking there had been some mistake. “Are you familiar with the Marshal Service, McKenna?” Windsor asked.
“Everyone is,” McKenna said, still panting from rage. “The Sword of the Council, right?”
“The best investigators, combat specialists, veterans and operators coming from all walks of life make up the Council Marshal Service,” Windsor said.
“They operate alone and answer only to the Council itself. With no political boundaries to hold their investigations, they go where no other entity of law can,” Glazov said.
“The Marshals are feared and seen as unstoppable beings of justice. One Marshal is equal to a hundred Enforcers,” Mahto added.
The Council spoke the truth. They didn’t take just anyone into the Marshal Service. In fact, it often took years to handpick a single one. McKenna had encountered a Marshal once before during an investigation on Phobos. They were indeed the best, and even McKenna felt outmatched by them.
“Do you know why they’re feared, McKenna?” Windsor said. “Why all legal authority holds its breath when they walk past? Why even the undercity gangs tread carefully around them? As a past soldier and recent law enforcement officer, I would hope that you’re of course familiar with the Six Laws of Sol?”
McKenna nodded his head. “Maintain Freedom. Maintain the Quarantine,” Windsor said.
“Maintain FTL Minus, Maintain Justice,” Mahto continued.
“Maintain the Revente, and Maintain Life Preservation,” Glazov ended.
“Textbook, thank you for reminding me, Councilors,” McKenna said.
“There is one more Law not commonly known to the public,” Windsor said. “The Seventh Mandate: A law that’s been in effect for over four hundred years. A law only applicable to Marshals.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. Almost every cop has. Hall pass for Marshals, right?” McKenna said.
“It’s much more than that,” Windsor said. “The Seventh Mandate states that any obstacle is insignificant. That no legal binding shall restrict. That no other agency is higher. That any other Law of Sol may be broken to uphold the greater good of humanity. You may have already guessed by now, but it is this Council’s decision to accept you into the Earth Council Marshal Service.”
The offer hit McKenna hard. It was something he wasn’t expecting in the least. It would be a great honor to join the ranks of the Marshals, but after hearing what a few of the Councilors had to say about him he felt the same animosity he thought he’d escaped on Mars.
“I think you have the wrong man,” McKenna said.
Windsor knew he would have to try and convince him even to stay in the room. The look on his face was of anger and impatience. “McKenna, Marshals do not go through any form of training. They are handpicked out of the best individuals in the entire Sol System. A recruited Marshal already has the skills needed to complete any task required of him.”
“I’m just an old killer, Councilor, arguing with time, nothing else.”
“That you are,” Krieg said. “But even more importantly, you seem to have an uncanny knack for staying alive, McKenna. Your survival skills are undeniable. It’s the only reason that I agreed to this ludicrous idea. After much debate we decided to give you access to the highest of cases.”
“Time and time again you’ve shown utmost determination in your life, McKenna,” Windsor said sincerely. “The determination for staying alive. It’s why you survived the incident yesterday. It’s why you survived the war. It’s why you survived Cardinal Fortune.”
McKenna looked to the ground, thinking of his so-called survival rate. “Survival isn’t as much a skill as it is a curse, Councilors,” McKenna said.
“The Red Sector is a dangerous place,” Krieg said. “Having the skills of the late Martian military and a high survivability rate in harsh conditions both make you an ideal candidate for this task. Or you can return to the red sands and waste away without purpose. The choice is yours. I hope with age, decision-making has been more positive for you than past exploits.”
After a brief thought, McKenna shook his head. He didn’t need much motivation to decide. He turned around to make his journey back to Mars.
The Councilors looked at each other, suddenly realizing their unsympathetic approach to his skill-set. Windsor shook his head at Krieg, irritated at the eldest of the Councilors. They could see McKenna’s grief over the subject matter, at least at the superficial level.
Mahto felt the need to step in, as she’d grown impatient at how the rest of the Council handled the recruitment. “There are countless lives in the balance, McKenna,” Mahto said. McKenna paused. “We all know what Mars fought for during the war. To free us from a tyrannical madman, yes, but ultimately to save the lives of everyone under his influence. Now we face a pandemic that threatens not nations or ideologies but us as a species. If this virus was to escape off-world, darkness would sweep across the entire System. There are many who could never defend themselves in a crisis like this. Innocents, the lost. They need someone to be their torch, and more importantly, their sword. Couldn’t you be more understanding of us? Be more than just an officer of the law? Please, McKenna, will you help us?”
Mahto’s words caught his attention, but not for the reasons she thought.
Be more…
McKenna was bred to take lives as quickly as possible, indoctrinated to be an unfaltering instrument by the finest military the Sol System had ever seen. However, life was fragile. The Solar War proved that to soldier and civilian alike.
Be more.
That’s what Lily had said. A dying wish unfulfilled. Saving a few lives in his search for the meaning in her wish seemed a step in the right direction.
McKenna looked at the images throughout the room, some depicting women and children dead because of the new mutation. Destitute, with no hope, thrown into a world of horror once again. He had his first real chance to try.
“Alright Councilors. You win,” McKenna said.
“Thank you, McKenna,” Mahto said with a smile. The Council knew they needed his respect. Even though they were the highest authority in the Sol System, they could not sway a man’s spirit by command alone. “These mutants, if you will, have been known to attack civilians without hesitation. They prove a very great threat in themselves within the undercity already.”
“The new unit you’ll be commanding has been designated the Infected Strain Task Force, or ISTF,” said Councilor Glazov.
“Marshals operate alone, don’t they?” McKenna said.
“Secrecy and discretion are amongst a Marshal’s greatest weapons,” Windsor said. “Only a few are publicly known as our agents. With that said, an Interpol ranking of Inspector has just been created in your name. Carry discretion as you see fit.”
“The ISTF has just recently been established within Interpol,” Windsor said. “Which, due to the urgency of this pandemic, has a high clearance ranking. Your position should get you and those under your command through a lot of red tape, should they need it, taking precedence over normal procedures. Should you run into problems in the meantime, well, you’re also a Marshal now.”
“Understood, Councilors. Where’s my AO?”
“You’ll be operating out of an older precinct in Orange Sector,” Windsor continued as he scrolled past a screen on his terminal. “Dog Station. There weren’t many to speak of, but the station’s personnel have been relieved over to your command. They’ve been on the front lines for years. Orange Sector is the last sector we have police presence in, so they should be right up your alley in terms of grit. I’m sending the particulars to your OPIaA.”
McKenna was overwhelmed. Two days ago, he was a Mars Colonial Police Detective. Now he was instated into legendary Marshal Service as well as leading a new breed of Interpol unit.
“While the ISTF may seem more of a smokescreen
to your true objectives, and may not be adequate to combat these mutants if the threat escalates, the public demands action for the recent mutant attacks. Smokescreen or not, consider your appointment as an Inspector within Interpol very real. Some plan of action against these mutants to protect the people is recommended as a secondary objective. As Commander of ISTF, you’re to give a press speech tomorrow afternoon from here, from the Earth VOX. Time and outline has been sent to you as well. Be honest but try not to give too many details, especially about the ISTF operating so close to Red Sector.”
“I trust the pay is good?” McKenna said with a smile as he looked up at the Council.
Windsor smiled back. “Along with a modest apartment in Blue Sector that we’ve appointed, you should find the position challenging but not without its rewards.”
“Understood, Councilors.” McKenna said.
“Another important note,” Windsor said. “We’ve assigned a partner to you as well, Detective Dillon Roberts. He was recruited out of the London DRS program – the Destitute Recruitment Service – so he knows the streets. Impeccable record. Started in patrol, off to citywide fame as a Bike Pursuit Enforcer, Strike Team Leader, special assignments in the undercities, now a detective. He should be more than able to help you out with anything regarding the local chatter or gangs. He’s to meet you at Dog tonight.”
“Very well, Councilors, is that all?” McKenna asked.
“Yes, McKenna, that will be all,” Windsor said. “Feel free to contact me on your progress. Your main objective is to find the people responsible for the attack on High Science and bring those bastards to justice.”
“And McKenna,” Mahto said. “The Auroran doctor. Her body was never found. If you discover any word on her, please inform me immediately.”
“I’ll do my best,” McKenna said.
“May we have some insight on what you plan to do first?” Windsor said.
“Well, you said High Science was attacked, so I guess I’ll start there.”
“Very well, Marshal.”
“And by the way, McKenna,” Krieg said. “Please try to keep blasting weapons from space and starting bar fights to a minimum.”
McKenna glared over his shoulder, but then pressed on through the door with a small smile. Krieg was almost comical at that point.
“Welcome to Earth, Marshal McKenna!” Windsor shouted from the back of the room.
McKenna made his way through the double doors, where he saw the same cop from the bar the previous day sitting down and attempting to light a cigarette until the receptionist intervened.
“There’s no smoking in here, Detective,” Patricia said.
The detective sighed as he put his cigarette out and placed the butt into a small metal container in his jacket pocket. “It’s hard to find a place to smoke outside if you know my meaning, luv,” the detective said before looking at McKenna. “Have a better one, mate.” He watched McKenna walk past to the elevator.
“Have a great day, Mister McKenna,” the receptionist said with her radiant smile. The detective watched him as he left. He then placed a nicotine gum strip in his mouth and then turned his attention back to the receptionist.
“What? You fancy him more than me?” the detective said. The receptionist rolled her eyes and proceeded to file her nails.
***
Emissary Brooks’ legs were burning. Only pure adrenaline kept him going. The alleys in Orange Sector were a maze. Even with a current map, you could easily get turned around. Especially if you were running for your life.
Brooks had only caught glimpses of his pursuers, who appeared as mere shadows. He knew they had to be assassins, hit-men of some type, and in Freedom City, if someone wanted you dead, you were already. As he rounded a corner he stopped to take in gallons of air to center himself while his Aether bio-lung tried to accommodate his needs. Meanwhile, he came to terms with a demoralizing truth: Brooks was pushing fifty. He was in good health, but he couldn’t outrun trained assassins. They were toying with him.
His legs continued trembling and his muscles were in shock. Brooks stumbled off a wall, onto his knees into a rain puddle after thinking he could still support his own body weight. He looked ahead to see a high wall at the end of the alley. Maybe he could climb over somehow. Brooks picked himself off the damp asphalt and walked on until he saw a smudged presence in front of himself, like staring into a warped mirror. The figure transitioned into one of the assassins, with the other two right behind him. They transitioned to visibility as well.
All three assassins were wearing adaptive camouflage. The Ethereal MK series was expensive military tech but it sometimes found its way to those with deep pockets in the dark market, or even to those with enough credits to buy it legally. They wore black combat suits with sectioned titanium ceramic composite armor. Each carried a suppressed pistol and one assassin also had a suppressed long rifle.
Someone with power wanted Brooks dead, but in this world, it was hard to know which one person might want a politician dead.
A buzz-cut wearing assassin stepped forward. Brooks saw a blue armband painted around his right arm. “Emissary Brooks… how happy we are to make your acquaintance,” the assassin said.
Brooks looked around, but he was cornered. “Who are you? Why are you after me?” he said.
“After you?” he gasped. The assassin looked to his other comrades with a stupefied look on his face. “We’re just friendly undercity folk in need of a friendly conversation.”
“Bullshit,” Brooks fired back. “You’re assassins. They don’t send assassins to talk with Council staff. You’ve been stalking me for a day already, so what do you want?”
“Well, Brooks, that is a thing to say! I am proud to say that I am not a liar. My other compatriots, however, I cannot speak for.”
Brooks could tell that even if they weren’t wearing their combat breathers they’d all show an eerie smile.
“We obviously got off on the wrong foot here. The name is Lindsey, and well, we already know yours. So that’s awkward,” Lindsey said with a playful tone, obviously enjoying his job. “We simply need to ask about a certain one of your relationships. Pretty simple, right?”
“Three armed gangers in an alley in Orange Sector asking about one of my clients. Why don’t I believe you?”
“Information is a commodity, sir,” Lindsey said as he began pacing. “It is bought, sold, traded, whatever the clientele wants. If there were a contract for your life, I could do much better. Maybe you’d already be dead in your lavish Blue Sector bed from what I can only describe as the most excruciatingly painful poison. But not by us, of course. That’s not our profession, see? Information gathering from an Emissary can be a stealthy business. We’re the perfect tools in our client’s eyes.”
“You said you weren’t a liar,” Brooks said as he used a shred of insight. “I’d say you guys aren’t freelance. I’m guessing more along the lines of henchmen for an undercity gang, and judging from your equipment, only Hasker could afford you.”
“Uh-oh!” Lindsey said as he covered his face momentarily with his hands. “You caught me! Top marks emissary, ha-ha, damn!” Lindsey pulled out his pistol. “But let’s get back to why we’re here.” Brooks swallowed his fear as best he could at the sight of the pistol. “You were expecting someone at the docks yesterday, and my sources say he might be fairly important.”
“I speak with a hundred people a day,” Brooks shouted. “I can’t keep track of one man!”
“Never have I heard of a lazy-ass politician jump up to greet someone fresh off the boat, let alone an off-worlder. We know more than you think, Brooks, we just need someone to fill in the gaps. But alas, we know now that he is indeed a he, ha-ha.” The rest of the posse chuckled alongside Lindsey.
“That’s all I know, just a description! I never even met the guy!”
“If you are protecting this man, Brooks, I suggest you rethink your priorities – if you value breathing Earth’s bittersweet air. We know he
met with the Council, we know he’s from Mars. Why was he attacked in orbit? Who is this man?” Lindsey raised his pistol just above Brooks’ brow and jammed it into his forehead. “And do try to give us something useful. Time is somewhat of a luxury down here.”
Brooks went down to his knees, whimpering. It didn’t take any more threats to get him to spill what he knew. “He’s a Martian! Ex-cop! Ex-Martian military!”
“All interesting, but I need a name to make this worthwhile!”
“M-McKenna, Alan McKenna!”
“Ha, now, was that so hard? So why didn’t you show? You knew you were supposed to meet him, but you never did. Rude hospitality to a newcomer and violating the Council’s command. Why, Brooks?”
“I…” Brooks whimpered, still protecting his interests. “Because you three started hounding me!”
“We didn’t start hunting you until this morning, Brooks. Try a little harder.” Lindsey got face to face with Brooks, making him incredibly uneasy. Brooks was a coward at heart and would say anything if it meant saving himself.
“I…” Brooks said.
“I, I, I…” Lindsey mocked as he smacked Brooks’ face. “Come on, let’s hear it, Brooks, you can do it!”
“There was a bounty on his head… I… gave a tip on where McKenna would be. Guy said he’d pay me for the information. I never had any intention of going there until he was dead. It was supposed to be smooth! McKenna wasn’t supposed to make it out from the skyport alive. I’m sure IA at the Tower is on to me now.”
“So, you just couldn’t look at the man you were supposed to kill in the flesh? Tsk, tsk, tsk, Brooks. You’ve fallen off the straight edge. You really do belong down here, don’t you? Who ordered the hit? This ‘guy’?”
“God, I don’t know!” Brooks said.
“Hmm?” Lindsey said, driving the gun further into Brooks’ head.
“I swear I don’t know his name. I only spoke to him through private messages. He called himself Hoodlum or Hood, something like that!”
The Black Cell Page 13
