by Nate Phelps
Copyright © 2020 Nathan Phelps
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
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Dedicated to my beautiful wife Jessica.
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
The Sentinel’s Intern
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Afterword
Acknowledgements
About The Author
The Sentinel’s Intern
By Nate Phelps
Chapter 1
My wristwatch chirped at me in agitation.
“What’s that?” the cashier asked as she finished counting my money.
I swiped my finger across the screen and a hologram appeared above it, detailing the situation.
“Crime in progress downtown,” I said. “I’m gonna need that bread to-go.”
“Um.” She looked around. “We’re a market, sir.”
“Oh, right!” I grabbed my bag and rushed out the door. I was so distracted, I forgot the stairs out front. My bread went flying and I let out a yelp as I tumbled down the steps.
“You all right?” asked an older gentleman. “You lost a shoe.”
“Yes, yes, thank you.” I jumped up, grabbed the shoe, and ran. Loping down the sidewalk, I drew some confused looks, shoe in one hand and loaf of bread in the other.
The Tower was only a block away. It stuck out above the other buildings like a proud tree amongst the shrubbery. The massive monument to the old days had been my home since I’d arrived at Midhaven as an abandoned eleven-year-old orphan. The dark tinted windows shone brilliantly as they reflected the sunrise.
The elevator was painfully slow as it pulled me towards floor twenty-seven. I tapped the worn-out button repeatedly until my watch chirped again.
“Someone’s stealing extra rations, eh?” I mumbled to myself as I checked the update. The door opened and I hopped out.
“Kleiner!” It was Professor Laevis. He was in full lab gear, including purple gloves, white coat, black apron, and large safety goggles. His curly white hair and mustache stuck out at odd angles. Gerald, his son, was close on his heels. The boy was nearly a replica of his father, minus the mustache and with red hair instead of white. The professor was holding test tubes in both hands containing a bubbling pink liquid.
I rushed down the hall. “Careful with those, Professor.”
“How is the thesis coming, my boy?” He walked beside me, trying to keep up.
“Great, I’m about halfway through. A crime just rolled in, so I’m gonna go get more data.”
“When are you going to give us another demonstration? The lab hasn’t been the same since you started working for the city full time. I’m afraid most of the other students lack your… passion for the work.”
“I’m passionate!” whined Gerald.
“Of course, kiddo. I was excluding you.”
Gerald grunted, seemingly pacified.
“I’ll do another demonstration soon,” I promised. “If my tools continue to work as well as they have, I’ll have quite a bit to show you when I’m done. I’ve got to go now. Thanks for your help on the liquid nitrogen reservoirs. I’ll test them out soon.”
My lab was at the end of the hall. I rushed in and slammed the door. There were tables lined with microscopes, vials, and papers detailed with various calculations. Most of the equipment was funded by the school, but I was starting to buy it back with my new salary. They didn’t charge me tuition since I was an orphan and because I had some unique talents.
I tossed the bread on a table, not looking. This was followed by a crash.
“Whoops.”
There wasn’t time to clean up the mess. I had to get suited up. On the left side of the room sat the tools of my trade: ice picks, foam canisters, hoses, metal tape, and more. I strapped Shania, my opinionated jetpack, firmly to my back. She wasn’t actually sentient, but she did have a personality.
Once she was secured, I arranged my equipment in my belt and attached the necessary canisters and hoses in their proper places before jumping up onto a wooden platform and thrusting the window open.
Midhaven spread out before me like a tapestry. Other high risers surrounded the facility, interspersed with small businesses and perpendicular streets.
To the east, I could see the rolling fields of the agricultural district leading out all the way to the massive wall that surrounded our city and protected us from the spawn of death outside.
Another notification went off, alerting me that Johnny had arrived at the crime scene.
“Shoot!”
Johnny couldn’t be trusted to work alone. I slipped on the sleek, black pilot glove. It activated, white lines trailing down the middle of the fingers, and I gave it a squeeze. Shania coughed and wheezed a few times before settling into her normal purr. I activated the locator on my watch and dived out of the window into the open air.
My eyes watered as the air rushed around me. I fell for several stories before I engaged the thrusters by squeezing my fist again. Shania sputtered, refusing to comply. This wasn’t too disconcerting. She’d been particularly sassy of as of late. With a fling of my leg, I hit her with my heel. She sputtered again and then growled. The booster kicked in, pulling me out of my dive. I twisted my pilot hand and Shania responded by turning me sharply around the edge of a building.
She propelled me down the west river which divided the Business Quarter from the Living Quarter. The same river moved the turbines that generated power for the city.
I spotted one or two others sharing the airways with me, but most of the early commuters were restricted to the roads below. Only government employees were issued jetpacks.
I dropped lower to the road, closer than I should have, and elicited a startled scream or two as I passed over pedestrians on their way to work.
With one last sharp turn, my watch beeped, indicating that I’d reached my destination. Easing up on my grip, I hovered at the corner of a dead-end street. There was no sign of Johnny, but I could see about a dozen muscle-bound men and women piling bags of flour, sugar, and other valuables into the back of two dilapidated black vans. From the looks of their clothing, grey jackets, and steel-toed boots, I assumed that they were Lutosians.
Lutosa was one of our sister cities. A large group of their laborers had arrived earlier that week and then promptly scattered, avoiding the integration process completely. Since then, they’d taken up residence deep in the business district where they could hide easier. Food and supplies had started going missing regularly.
I dropped to the ground and moved around the corner to get a better look. No one had noticed me yet. Lutosians
were known for being big and brawny but not for being the brightest.
“Move it!” shouted the only thief not wearing a jacket. She had a deep scowl as she ordered the others around. “These streets will be packed with workers in a few minutes.”
“Hmm,” I mused, pulling up the camera on my watch. I tapped the capture button, and it let out an audible click.
The lead thief spun around and spotted me. “Hey! What are you doing there?” She was gigantic, like a boulder with eyeballs.
“Don’t mind me,” I said cheerfully. “I’m just watching.”
She was about to say something, but hesitated. Then her eyes widened as she recognized me. This had been happening more and more frequently.
“Leave it!” she barked at the other thugs, rushing to a van and yanking the door open. “We have company!”
They immediately dropped the sacks and boxes they were holding and dove into the vehicles.
“You really are no fun, Cleaner,” said a voice behind me.
I turned to see Johnny Q standing there. He was adorned in his iconic maroon suit with the dark grey cape and the black boots. There stood the hero of our city. And… he was holding a smoothie.
“It’s Kleiner,” I corrected. “Sorry I ruined your surprise. You want me to hold that for you?” I gestured at his smoothie.
“No, thanks. You’ll get your germs all over it.”
I rolled my eyes. “How will you fight?”
He held his free hand against his chest as if offended. “Really, Cleaner? I thought you knew me better than that.”
The wheels of the first van screeched as they accelerated towards us. They obviously hadn’t seen Johnny yet. The second van was quick to follow.
“Is there any way you could take it easy today?”
“No can do, muchacho,” he said as he strolled into the middle of the street, still holding his drink. “This is one of my few joys in life.”
I sighed.
Too late, the drivers noticed Johnny, Midhaven’s Sentinel. The first van swerved to avoid him. He cocked his leg back and kicked the rear wheel as they passed. The nuts ripped off and the wheel spun away. Sparks flew as metal ground on asphalt. The van fishtailed before tipping onto its side and skidding to a halt. I motioned with the pilot glove and zipped after the wheel as it bounced down the road. On the third bounce, I grabbed it, setting it down gently as the second van slammed on the brakes.
Johnny took a nice gulp of his smoothie before lifting it out of the way as the van crashed into him head-on. The hood caved in and the back wheels came off the ground for a moment before slamming down again. I noticed the driver bash his head against the windshield, knocked out cold. Maybe the rest would go down without a fight for once.
Alas, the side doors on both vans slid back and the thugs rushed out carrying pieces of pipe, knives, chains, and even a couple of swords.
“Oo, nice,” said Johnny as one of the thugs brandished his blade. “That’s pretty.”
The man yelled wildly and swung at Johnny. Johnny sidestepped the attack and kicked the man’s legs out from under him. “I have a couple concerns about your form.”
The rest of the Lutosians rushed him. He dodged out of their grasp, laying well-timed blows that sent them staggering, all while keeping his drink aloft in his left hand. I watched the battle anxiously, knowing it would soon turn south.
Sure enough, one of the idiots threw his pipe and missed Johnny completely. My foam gun was already out and I had just a split second to aim and fire. The attached hose jumped as I pulled the trigger and a glob of purplish goo popped out of the nozzle. It intercepted the pipe, completely encasing it. A moment later the goo solidified and it dropped to the ground.
“Woo!” I raised my hands victoriously. “Did you see that shot?”
“In a minute,” said Johnny dismissively as he flipped a man onto his back.
“You never see it,” I grumbled.
I hovered around the edges of the battle watching for stray missiles or downed thugs that might get funny ideas. One of them, a scrawnier guy, stayed near the edge. He grabbed a street sign and pulled it back and forth, probably hoping to use it as a weapon.
“No, no,” I said, puttering just above him. “Grab something else.”
The man took a swing at me so I foamed his foot to the road.
He pulled at his leg, cursing loudly.
“It’s your own fault,” I said. “Use a normal weapon next time.”
Johnny made quick work of the last of the criminals and soon they lay in a heap in the middle of the road. All of them that is, except for my friend by the street sign who was just stuck. Workers, who had shown up to open their businesses now hung around the fringes enjoying the spectacle. They cheered and hollered.
Johnny bowed dramatically. I was the only one that noticed the leader climbing out of the first van.
“Hey, you missed one,” I said to Johnny, stifling a yawn.
Johnny took no notice of me, still waving at his fans. The burly woman strode towards him, wiping blood from her lip and reaching for her back pocket.
I realized what she was grabbing a bit too late. “Johnny!” I shouted. “She has a gun!”
Johnny was too slow. The Lutosian fired two deafening shots. They caught the hero in the back.
“AUGHH!” He dropped to one knee.
The crowd gasped in horror and the leader of the gang waited anxiously, a wild grin spread across her features.
“The pain!” wailed Johnny. “I can’t… go on. The darkness…. I’m fading.” Johnny stood and spun around, a wide grin upon his face. “Had you fooled my friend! That does sting though.”
“NO!” howled the criminal, firing another two shots of her pistol into Johnny’s chest.
Only a Lutosian would waste expensive bullets like that. Johnny didn’t flinch as they deflected off his skin poking holes in his suit.
“Idiot,” I muttered. Someone could get hurt while he was playing around.
Johnny continued to taunt the thug. “You’ll have to do better than that!”
The thug fired one final shot. It missed spectacularly and shattered Johnny’s cup. Orange smoothie slopped onto the street. The crowd gasped once more. Johnny Q stared at his empty hand for a moment before his gaze slowly turned to the gang leader.
“Don’t do it,” I begged.
The woman looked at me and then back at Johnny before dropping her gun and running. Johnny covered the distance between them in one jump. He caught her by the belt and flipped her over his shoulder. I aimed and fired a glob of foam solution. It missed the criminal and she crashed against the glass door of a bakery. Spiderweb cracks spread up and down the pane.
A squat little man with a white apron, rushed out of the crowd and slapped his hands to his head. “My door!”
“Thanks a lot,” I growled at Johnny.
“No problem,” he said, giving me a mocking salute.
“I hate you.”
“Hate you too. Have fun!” He leapt into the air like a rock from a catapult and disappeared over a row of buildings. The crowd clapped and cheered before they began to disperse.
“My store!” bellowed the baker. “What about my store?”
“Here,” I said, distractedly slapping my watch until a flat hologram expanded above it about a foot across. I scrolled through my menu and pulled up an insurance waiver.
“Sign here, please,” I said, handing him a hologram pen from my belt.
“What’s this?”
“A recommendation for compensation as outlined in the Thirtieth Redemptive Act, ratified year 67. You are liable to receive partial or total coverage based on your company’s insurance and compatibility. Press this button for your own copy and press this button for a further analysis of the terms and conditions of this agreement.”
I was only about halfway through the requisite spiel I was supposed to give, but if I wasted any more time Johnny would surely take down a building or something and I couldn�
�t let that happen. That was my job.
“Is this all you can do?” asked the annoyed baker.
“I’ll see to it that your store is looked after,” I said.
The glass in the door shifted and then fell to the ground in a loud rush. I groaned inwardly. The man begrudgingly signed the form and I turned to leave.
“Um, excuse me…?” I turned to see a woman totally covered in foam from my missed shot. Only her head and hands were sticking out. “A little help?”
“Ah, crap!”
Chapter 2
I’d always thought of myself as pretty well-rounded for a guy that’d lost his parents at eleven-years-old. It helped that I couldn’t remember them. Some of the doctors that fussed over me after I was found by the gate, were calling it post-traumatic amnesia. There was no head wound though, so most agreed that it was just caused as a result of my subconscious repressing the memories due to severe anxiety. Thank goodness.
Bunch of crackpots in my opinion. They just wanted to sound smart and distract themselves from the fact that the practice of medicine had reverted so drastically after the outbreak. The doctors in Sanitatem were way better anyway.
I wasn’t bothered by my past anymore. With no other known family, I was put on a lost child program and had everything I needed provided for me, except the family part. From that time on, I’d taken residence in the Tower. Learning became my life and my passion. I’d quickly worked my way up and entered the University on the top floors at age fourteen. By seventeen I’d acquired a bachelor’s, the highest degree we offered in Midhaven. The accomplishment was mostly just symbolic, but it had felt good. At that point, dozens of jobs were open to me within the city, but I realized I wasn’t ready to leave the University just yet.
Professor Laevis and I partnered together to create a new Master’s program. The main component was the hands-on portion which entailed extensive practice in the field. I’d wanted to do something that made a difference, so I had analyzed the needs of the city to see where I could be of the most use. One glaring area was the ridiculous amount of resources that were used to fix the damage to streets and buildings that was caused by Johnny Q, a personal idol of mine. I’d immediately gotten to work trying to find a way to increase efficiency in the repairs.
