Exodus (The Fall of Haven)

by Justin Kemppainen

  Answering his question, one of the Citizen leader's errand runners waited for him when they crossed into the upper-Haven area. "Gottfried-" he started.

  One of the other Inquisitors stepped forward, cutting off the man with a sharp gesture. "High Inquisitor. Address him with proper respect."

  Gottfried allowed himself a tiny smile, not removing his gaze from Davidson's boot-licker, who appeared appropriately flustered. Gottfried motioned for the man to speak.

  "High Inquisitor Gottfried," he spoke in a slightly strained tone. "Citizen Davidson needs to speak to you immediately. If you will please come with me..." he motioned.

  Speak to him, not with, the High Inquisitor thought, and immediately rather than at my convenience. He very much doubted the words were carelessly chosen.

  Even though the prospect of both letting Davidson wait and making the messenger squirm held appeal, Gottfried decided to keep direct insubordination to a minimum. Oh how dear Julian would despise this situation. Of course he'd probably start by slaughtering any who commented on his short physical stature before bothering to move on to partially opposing elements like Davidson. A true smile rose to his lips.

  The messenger shifted and appeared rather uncomfortable under the smile and gaze of the High Inquisitor. Good, Gottfried thought. No matter what Davidson attempts, I hold a measure of sway over his people.

  "Sir, please? Could you please come with me?" Davidson's man didn't quite beg, but Gottfried considered such an act not too distant.

  Unfortunately, spending time on self-indulgence was not a high priority. As important and satisfying as he considered reminding Davidson's people that the Inquisition remained a potent force worthy of respect, other matters required tending.

  Gottfried gave a nod. "Lead the way."

  The messenger appeared incredibly relieved, and he moved at a rapid clip. For a while, Gottfried pondered what Davidson would say upon their arrival.

  Several minutes of silent walking later, he was led inside the familiar building and office.

  "Citizen Davidson, I have brought the High Inquisitor as instructed," the man spoke quickly, appearing eager to leave.

  The Citizen leader sat at his desk, sifting through neatly piled stacks of papers containing varied information. Both Gottfried and the messenger stood, waiting while Davidson continued to read whatever he held.

  Sweat and pure discomfort radiated from the messenger. Good lord, he's going to begin weeping if subjected to much more of this. The High Inquisitor would have liked nothing more than to burst out laughing or even chuckle softly at the thought. However, the game of stoicism, of keeping Davidson unaware of every thought and action no matter how frivolous remained a higher priority than an expression of amusement.

  No universe existed in which Gottfried intended to break the silence.

  "You may go," Davidson said, not looking away from the report.

  The messenger exuded relief. "Sir." He gave a nod and departed in a hurry.

  Silence resumed, and Gottfried held his position at attention, rigid and expressionless. From long experience doing so, he knew full well he could hold out more or less indefinitely.

  "How was your... foray into Old Haven?" Davidson asked in his usual halting tone, without looking up.

  Gottfried didn't miss a beat. "Successful."

  "And your reasoning, for divulging nothing of this excursion to your superior?" Davidson set the paper down and peered up at Gottfried.

  "The mission was of critical importance. You were otherwise occupied and could not be bothered at the time." Gottfried gave a pause, considering for a moment if he should add his next thought. To hell with it. I retain authority and presence no matter if this fool acknowledges it. He raised his chin slightly. "I used my discretion."

  Davidson's eyebrows raised. "Your discretion? Truly?" The Citizen leader stood, clasping hands behind his back. "Interesting thought, as it was my impression that the Inquisition office remained no more than an outdated policing force in a now militant and... feudal environment. It should follow, then, that its head is merely ornamental and retains no..." he sniffed, "discretion of his own."

  So he comes right out with it, Gottfried thought, unsurprised by the Citizen leader's feelings towards him. Out loud, keeping his expression passive, he replied, "My men and women are skilled, experienced, and loyal. There is no reason to suggest that the Inquisition office cannot adapt to a new situation and perform to the highest standards."

  "Whose standards, I wonder?" Davidson said. "Or perhaps, perhaps the question is not of standards but something else. I have... no doubt of your Inquisitors' loyalty..." he gave a humorless smile, "but my concern is to whom."

  Gottfried didn't reply, sensing Davidson not yet finished. More yet, the High Inquisitor was unwilling to babble excuses, an act of weakness which would undoubtedly give his supposed leader the upper hand.

  "Your predecessor, Julian Wresh... he made a great many mistakes during his time as the High Inquisitor. It is because of him that we reunited Citizens are... wary of the men in shadows."

  A fair argument, Gottfried thought, adding yet another item to the list of the unintended and irritating consequences to Wresh's actions. He wholeheartedly agreed with Davidson and understood his concern, so he gave a nod.

  The Citizen leader continued, "I would like you to tell me where you went, what you were attempting, and why. I have no further desire to play these games. If you can prove yourself reasonable, loyal, and useful to the cause, I will allow you and your office to remain as it is."

  "I traveled to Old Haven to investigate the recent deaths of our people," Gottfried spoke, again without hesitation, fully intending to tell most of the truth. He had no realistic worries of Davidson or the Citizens posing much threat to him or his people, but they possessed resources Gottfried needed to continue his work.

  He gestured toward Davidson. "You were occupied in planning the assault on our current enemies, and since no formal disbandment of the Inquisition office has occurred, an inquiry into the murder of Citizens falls under my jurisdiction."

  "It was determined that the deaths were caused by OHU insurgents. As such... investigation was unnecessary."

  "With respect," Gottfried replied, "the two of us are both keenly aware of why such a conclusion was reached. I have no objection to raising morale by means of anger and the desire for retribution." Aside from the fact that it will likely lead to numerous, pointless deaths, the unspoken thought followed. "However, and wishing no offense, what amounts to a propaganda solution does not deal with the actual culprits themselves."

  Davidson stared at the High Inquisitor, appearing to be in consideration. After a moment, he gave a short nod.

  "Various intelligence led us to the Old Haven region. Further investigation drew us to a particular location where cult activity had been established. We discovered those responsible and dispatched them in short order. After these actions were finished, we returned."

  "Indeed?" Davidson frowned. "The entire situation so neatly concluded? Who was responsible?"

  "A former Citizen, driven insane through torture during the time preceding the uprising. He gathered a group of individuals and stirred them to near-mindless frenzy."

  "Hm. Interesting." Davidson's tone remained flat, suggesting he felt otherwise.

  "I apologize if you feel I've acted outside of my authority," Gottfried spoke, thinking, Like hell, "but the action was entirely necessary. Their numbers were surprising, and I have no doubt they intended to expand them further."

  "And your small force was able to overcome these... numbers?" Davidson's tone formed an edge, irritation seeping through.

  He thinks I'm lying. I suppose I am, at least a little, but I doubt he'd be further trusting if he became aware of everything which happened, Gottfried thought. "They carried only melee weaponry, I assume in accordance with some manner of bestial laws set down by their leader. In spite of a fearless and brutal nature, they were not difficult to over
come."

  "I see." Davidson frowned. "And you believe they... truly were capable of threatening us?"

  "Perhaps, given time." Gottfried felt a glimmer of satisfaction. Ah, I believe I have him convinced. One more point, just to be certain. "Even if not, the murder of our Citizens cannot go unpunished."

  Davidson considered this for a few moments while Gottfried held his at-attention posture.

  "Very well." The Citizen leader nodded. "I accept your explanation and agree with your reasoning. It seems you have done the Citizenship a great service today."

  "My pleasure, sir." It seems almost too ea-

  "Why did you allow the terrorist, Rick, to escape yesterday, High Inquisitor? Why have you been collaborating with a known enemy?"

  Herman Gottfried could count on one hand the number of times he had been caught off-guard when fulfilling his duties as an Inquisitor, but this question came entirely unexpected. His careful composure dissolved into surprise for one instant, enough time for Davidson to read guilt in the expression before Gottfried could resume one of passivity.

  "Hm. I thought as much." Oddly, Davidson didn't appear angry. On the contrary, he looked amused.

  Only a span of seconds passed while Gottfried became surprised and conjured his explanation. Carefully now, he told himself. "The man called Rick is an intelligent individual. He has strong tendencies towards careful, strategic planning."

  Davidson's quirked in a slight smile. "This helps your case... how?"

  "Because he's harmless."

  "Oh? Is this so?" Davidson's tone was humoring to the point of patronizing.

  "Yes. Call him an effective tactician, call him a capable leader, but he is a leader without followers and a tactician without an army. He has few friends. The OHU exiled him. We Citizens wouldn't accept him or at least wouldn't give him any importance. Any ambitions or goals he has cannot affect us, and he has no interest in the war."

  The light amusement on Davidson's face faded into one of consideration.

  "I have been interacting with him, yes," Gottfried said. "I wish to continue doing so because he represents an alternate viewpoint, and a contingency if we are unable to retake the city and rekindle the spirit of Citizenship."

  Davidson raised an eyebrow. "An unorthodox opinion."

  Gottfried gave a nod. "I agree, but having a secondary option never displays poor judgment."

  "What secondary option are you considering?" The other man held reluctance but small amount of curiosity.

  "You must understand, Citizen Davidson, if we deplete the population too severely, we will not be able to maintain the infrastructure of the city. As it stands, we may be hard-pressed to do so even if victory comes within the week." Gottfried added a slight tinge of sincerity to the usual passive voice, hoping to placate Davidson, hoping he'd see reason.

  "It is important for us to have other options for our Citizens. We owe it to them, to ourselves, to ensure their continued existence..." Gottfried paused. It is unfortunate that I have to reveal this, but I fear not doing so will create more serious problems. "As such, I have been intrigued by this Rick individual's goal and have been pursuing possibilities toward it."

  "What goal?"

  "Escape."

  Davidson frowned, repeating, "Escape."

  Gottfried said nothing in response, waiting for the inevitable tirade. Moments ticked by.

  "Interesting," Davidson said, turning away and causing yet another bit of surprise to strike the High Inquisitor. I heard that correctly, didn't I? he wondered. He said "interesting?"

  A few minutes went by while Davidson conducted what appeared to be deep consideration. Still facing the window, he said, "I assume your research has provided insight into the true conditions outside of the city."

  Gottfried spoke slowly, uncertain of what Davidson was thinking. "Nothing concrete, but reports of severe conditions at least were pure fabrication. Survivability may be difficult, but..." He left the phrase hanging.

  "If the alternative is slowly dying off in a crumbling city, yes I understand." Davidson turned away from the window, his piercing features leveled at the High Inquisitor. "You have my approval to continue your efforts... even utilizing this Rick individual as long as his name and face remains far away from our Citizens. He is an asset to be used but not... trusted. Dispose of him if he becomes a problem. Do you understand?"

  The High Inquisitor chafed at Davidson resuming his postured authority, but couldn't find particular disagreement to stand upon. He nodded.

  "I... appreciate your candor in this situation, High Inquisitor Gottfried." Davidson seated himself at the desk. "The Citizenship and its fine people will emerge from these trials, one way or another... one place or another. We may or may not be the chosen elite of Franklin Lange, but the old fool is dead and rotting, and following his example would lead us all to a... similar fate."

  Gottfried idly wondered how shrewd Davidson was, how many layers he operated upon, what his true motivations were. Would any of this have been more simple had I been forthright with him from the beginning? I assumed he was yet another power-coveting idiot. While his desire to lead seems obvious, whatever foolishness he possesses does not.

  Davidson looked up from the desk, raising an eyebrow as if wondering why the High Inquisitor remained present. "You may go."

  Mild irritation buzzed in Gottfried, but rather than push further, he bowed and moved to the exit.

  "Oh, one last thing... High Inquistior," Gottfried turned back. Davidson set down the sheet of paper he held. "If you are to continue your inquisitorial shadow games without informing me of what or why..." his face darkened, "I will return to my thoughts of removing you from concern. Am I understood?"

  While tempted to express a more accurate opinion, the High Inquisitor simply replied, "Yes."

  "Good." Davidson returned his attention back to the reports.

  Gottfried departed, not entirely sure of what exactly had occurred. It seemed the situation between him and the Citizen leader had improved, but perhaps it only created a slight change, an understanding.

  I doubt it will lead to either of us altering specific goals, but I suppose as long as our efforts don't clash, we can assist each other.

  ******

  "No, I'm afraid there's not much I'll be able to do with this," Michaels said, skeptical. "This is, what? Middle school equipment? About one hundredth as efficient, accurate and useful as what I have in my lab."

  They'd arrived at the school a short time earlier, immediately going about their business. After providing a small amount of help in finding materials, Cass had thanked them both and headed off to get some sleep. Michaels wished he could do the same, but too much required accomplishing. Mind focused on the prospect of discovery, he didn't even think to ask about Rick and Kaylee.

  Frowning at a small microscope, he hunched over a wide table with a basin and attachments for flammable gas. "Barely a child's playroom," he said. "Effective enough for remedial education, but..."

  Quinton, alert and spry in spite of his injury, leaned against one of the other tables. "Terribly sorry we don't have any fancy, state-of-the-art equipment down here."

  "Your sarcasm warms my heart and gives hope toward your speedy recovery," Michaels replied, distracted and trying to find something, anything, of use nearby. Even the textbooks are archaic, he thought.

  "I'm sorry Malcolm," he turned to the creature, crouched in the corner and staring. Malcolm had gathered spare clothing from somewhere in the school, returning to his usual state of concealment. Presuming no trouble in the procurement, Michaels didn't ask who it'd been stolen from. "We'll have to travel to my lab in order to run any worthwhile tests."

  Malcolm gave a nod, moving toward their captive.

  A bound, gagged, now-conscious and quite furious woman laid on the floor, struggling. At first, Michaels had wondered why Malcolm wanted an examination, but even the researcher began to feel curious toward the madness of Nigel's people.

 
; Unlikely their minds simply snapped, he rubbed his chin. Some kind of sickness, a brain disease or parasite? Such a case would be unsurprising considering life conditions and their, erm... habits.

  The woman didn't seem concerned that her mind may have been in the process of liquefaction from prions or decaying by one of any other hundred means. She continued to struggle against the tightly bound cords, chafing her wrists. The gag felt inhumane at first, but the silence, free from curses, insults, and threats, was a blessing.

  Plus, she can't bite any more, he thought, rubbing his hands self-consciously. She'd almost gotten him when she'd awakened. Lord only knows what horrid, transmissible diseases she carries. If she'd drawn blood...

  Michaels took a deep breath, a chill sweeping through him.

  "Feelin' a bit ill, doc?" Quinton asked, arms folded.

  "Is there no one else for you to bother?" Michaels spared a sidelong glance.

  "Shouldn't I be close to my primary care provider?" Quinton feigned a cough.

  Michaels sighed.

  The old man chuckled, raising himself up. "Eh, just as well. I'm already feeling much better."

  "Thrilling," the researcher replied, irritated. Malcolm had picked up the writhing woman, watching and waiting for Michaels to follow.

  The researcher took one last look around the room and sighed. "No, nothing. Very well, let's go, Malcolm."

  "Doc, hang on a sec." Michaels turned, surprised to see edges of concern in the old man's hard expression. "You sure this is smart? There's a lot of bad flying around topside right now. Malcolm himself isn't too popular either."

  Michaels shrugged. "There isn't any actual grievance against me, and they can't do anything against him. If they insist upon stupidity, I doubt he'll have difficulty slipping away."