His muscles were convulsing and did not want to respond to
his demands but he strained against the pain and forced his hands to move. With
one hand he grabbed the projectiles and pulled them out. Now free from the
electric shock he quickly wound his hands in the wires and yanked the gun from
the man’s hand. Swinging it over his head in a wide arc, he whipped it all the
way around and back at the shooter. The wires stretched as he swung and when
they hit they wrapped themselves tightly around the soldier’s neck like a bola.
He went down clawing at the wires and making panicked noises.
The others started yelling and threatening Damon, but he
didn’t listen. He kept running toward the smaller group, intent on breaking
through their line and escaping. These were trained soldiers, unfortunately,
and they moved shoulder to shoulder to block his path. He hit the line of four
men hard, and they all went down together in a tangle of bodies.
Damon fought frantically, trying to keep them off balance so
he could extricate himself and escape, but they were too well armored and too
well trained. He knocked two out before they were able to subdue him and
zip-tie his hands behind his back.
One of them walked up to the group of men as they each
stood, trying to regain their composure. He spoke, apparently into a radio “Sir,
we’ve got him. I think you’re right, he took out three of us with his bare
hands.”
The figure then spoke to the men holding him, “Put him in
the 'craft, and let’s get out of here.”
**** ****
Andrea looked down on the alleyway
as the cloud dissipated. She marveled at the number of bodies strewn throughout
the area and tried to recreate what happened. She could tell some of the bodies
were simply knocked out by the gas, but she could also see that many—
so
many!—
had been taken down violently.
Damon, where are you?
She
checked the scanner again and realized the signal was actually a little further
ahead. She looked over the group one more time, but did not see Melanie.
Too
bad, I was planning to bring her back home as a trophy.
“He’s farther up,” she said to her group of fighters,
twenty-strong.
Various comments greeted the scene below, all expressing
awe-filled respect for what the Demon had done. The high-pitched whine of
aircraft taking off surprised them, and after a moment’s hesitation, they all
began running toward the sound.
Two sleek SecForce aircraft lifted into the dark sky and
turned to zip toward the City.
“Andrea, do they 'ave him?”
She looked down at the tracker and saw the indicator moving
away quickly. Her heart sank and she was not sure she could speak. “Yes,” she
whispered. Then louder, “They’ve got him.” With a lump in her throat she watched
the lights of the aircraft disappear into the distance.
**** ****
Damon sat in his cell for the third
straight day and wondered if they were going to leave him here forever.
Maybe
this is the torture, death by boredom!
With nothing else to do, he ran through the events of the
last couple weeks yet again. He cursed himself for ever rescuing Melanie, and
then again for bringing her home. He realized now the importance of the
training he had neglected.
Mercy. If only I had listened to that lecture. If
only I could have swung that bar and killed her right there. Or even if I’d
only knocked her out and let the traps and guards take care of her.
So far, the SecForce people had been cordial, though quiet.
Damon imagined they might be little rougher had he actually hurt any of them. Luckily,
the men he took down were fine, with only bruises and soreness. Idly, he
thought that he’d love to get his hands on a set of their armor. It seemed
light and flexible, and he knew from first-hand experience that it was effective.
He daydreamed of escaping with a couple sets of that armor and bringing it back
to Andrea.
Oh Andrea, I hope you can forgive me. The kiss was encouraging.
He smiled at the thought.
Today, they brought Damon out and led him to another room. His
hands were shaking; he’d heard many stories about the horrible things SecForce
did to their prisoners. He flinched as a set of heavy double doors groaned open
and he was pushed into the room.
His eyes darted from side to side as he searched for an
escape, but the room was mostly empty. It contained only a couch and some comfortable-looking
chairs gathered around a coffee table. He didn’t see any of the torture devices
rumored to be used by SecForce, although they could be somewhere else. Despite
his fears, he felt surprisingly safe. This place looked a lot like the common
rooms at 4C.
After a few minutes alone, the door opened and a uniformed
man and woman walked in.
“Hello, son, I’m Captain Remmen and this,” he gestured
toward the woman, “is Colonel Tashus. He held out his hand for Damon to shake.
Damon hesitated before reaching out to shake the man’s hand
and then the woman’s. “Captain, Colonel,” he addressed them politely.
Do
they know why I’m here? Are they in the wrong room? Am I in the wrong room?
Damon stood more than head taller than both of them, and
neither one had the look or carriage of a fighter. They didn’t appear the least
bit intimidated or scared, which made Damon nervous. He actually felt better
when two armed and armored guards took positions just inside the door.
“Sit, please, Mr. . . .” the man waited for a name
from Damon.
“Demon. Well, not Mr. Demon, just Demon.”
“Hmm, really? Surely that’s a nickname? You must have a real
name, no?”
“Well, my real name’s Damon, but no one calls me that,”
No
one but Andrea.
“Damon, good. And a last name?”
“A what?”
“All right, where are you from, Damon?”
“I’d prefer you call me Demon.”
“Of course. Where you from, Demon?”
“The Ruins.”
“Of course. I meant a little more specifically, where do you
live
within
the Ruins?”
“With my Family.”
Captain Remmen sighed, glanced over at the colonel, who had
not moved since sitting down, and then continued, “Demon. Don’t be difficult.
We need to know where you’re from so we can get you back home.”
Damon grunted, and then said, “Right. Why don’t you just
drop me where you found me?”
The captain never missed a beat, “We need to contact next of
kin to come pick you up and sign the paperwork.”
“Not buying it, I’m old enough to sign for myself.”
The captain paused and looked thoughtful. “Demon, we’re
trying to help you. Why were you taking on that whole gang by yourself? Why was
there a group of twenty other people rapidly approaching your position, moving
across the rooftops?” He paused, waiting for Damon’s answer. “Maybe you didn’t know,
but there were more than seventy members from the gang you were fighting. We
gassed them and took them down temporarily, but we did not detain any of them.
They are still free to pursue their original plans.” He waited again to see if
Damon would understand the implications of his statements.
“We scared off your friends, and the SecForce soldiers
stayed in the area long enough to ensure the other gang members were not
eliminated while they were incapacitated. Even though you left only fifty-some
members still able to fight, how do you like the odds?”
Damon didn’t like the odds at all. He knew that the Family
had average fighters, other than Andrea, but he wasn’t sure they could take on
a group that size. He also knew that the Family was sorely lacking in weapons.
For these reasons they had adopted the defensive and secretive approach to
security in the first place.
After a long silence, the colonel spoke for the first time.
“Damon,” she said, her voice held an air of command that
reminded him of Andrea.
“Demon,” Damon corrected.
She inhaled deeply, and then continued, “Demon, we have you
on camera killing at least six people, and attempting to kill many more. You
also assaulted four SecForce officers, one with the intent to kill.” She
paused, studying his face. “Do you know what penalty these crimes carry?”
Damon looked her in the eye without wavering, “I have no
idea, please tell me,” he replied coolly.
The colonel’s annoyance was starting to show as she said “Murder
and attempted murder carry sentences of at least ten years. Assault on a
soldier with the intent to kill carries a minimum twenty years. Depending on
the judge, you could be going away for a long, long time.”
Damon looked down as she made her pronouncement, his bravado
severely shaken. He had practiced this situation in training, but it felt much
different when facing real consequences. He tried to imagine so many years
behind bars, but he couldn’t. For the first time tonight he felt real fear.
He looked up and tried to keep his voice steady. “What are
you offering?”
Colonel Tashus sat forward, suddenly animated and excited. “You
may actually like this, Da—Demon. We need someone of your skill and training
for a special program we’re starting up. In return for your cooperation, we
will send SecForce out to protect your family from rival gangs in the area.”
“Will I be free to go after I’m done with your program?” he
asked.
She glanced quickly at Captain Remmen before continuing, “Unfortunately
no. You will have to stay with the program for many years to come. Fact is, you
will not be able to go back home.” After a short pause she added, “However, your
personal sacrifice will ensure their safety. You will be secure in the
knowledge that you did everything you could possibly do to protect them.”
Damon put his head in hands and rested his elbows on his
knees. Once again, his thoughts were reeling, and he looked to Andrea’s
training for help. For the first time in his life, nothing came to mind. The
void in his thoughts where he usually found Andrea’s voice left him feeling
abandoned.
“Tell me more about the program,” he said, his voice
muffled.
Colonel Tashus was obviously in her element as she described
the plans for the Human Implanted Augmentation program. She told him about D-SAP
armor, how his skeleton would be strengthened, and how weapons would be
implanted directly into his body. She described how he would be stronger,
faster, and nearly indestructible.
She talked only briefly and in vague terms about the
missions he would execute, but she emphasized how it would be for the good of
the Consensus.
“The what?” Damon asked, interrupting.
“The Consensus,” she looked at him quizzically.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She was surprised that she had to explain to him about the
Consensus, and she was clearly shocked when she realized Damon had no idea
there were other planets besides his own.
The more she learned about his ignorance, the more she
realized that he was the perfect candidate, and her excitement grew with every
passing minute.
**** ****
At home on Havyn, where legend said
Kyndra herself settled, Renard looked out the window of his office at the vista
before him that never got boring. Even after more than forty years in this
office, he never tired of the view. Calling it a window was truly a misnomer,
the entire twenty-foot high wall was transparent, and it looked out over one of
the largest waterfalls in the Consensus.
Meltwater from the mountains in the background plunged
thousands of feet over the edge of a gigantic caldera, forming ever-changing
streams all around the rim and collecting in a large lake. The downslope half
of the caldera had fallen away eons ago, sending the water tumbling down the
steep slopes of the mountainous foothills in an angry river that rolled to the
forests miles away and thousands of feet below.
Calling this room an office was also misleading. It was
housed in a simple tower soaring one hundred fifty stories out of the center of
the caldera lake, but still dwarfed by the rim above. The room was actually a
series of offices, meeting areas, and living quarters that took up the entire
top of the building. All of the external walls and ceiling could be made transparent,
giving magnificent views of the waterfall to one side, and the vast panorama of
the foothills and rain forests as far as the eye could see to the other side.
The building was accessible solely by water, and numerous docks spread out from
its base looking like a grass skirt floating on the water.
More than an office building as well, Renard had spent his
whole life here. He grew up sailing on the waters of the lake, hiking through
the mountains, and rafting down the wild river. The building was known
throughout the Consensus as “The Spire,” while he simply called it “Home.” His
childhood rooms were near the top of the building, and much of his education
took place on the lower floors. Looking back, he might say that the greatest
education took place right here, in this office, with his great uncle Izar
Trueblood, head of the Council before Renard. From an early age, Izar
recognized that Renard had the right combination of skills, intelligence, and
drive to become his heir. He began grooming Renard as a boy, and included him
in many of his private meetings and strategy sessions.
Renard turned from the view and looked across the room to a
picture of his uncle Izar hanging in a place of honor among all of the previous
Trueblood leaders.
“What would you do, uncle?” he said out loud to the empty
room. “If I ever needed your help, it is now.” He waited for a moment, and
sighed. He missed his uncle acutely even after all these years. He missed his
wise counsel and he missed his engaging personality.