Spoils Of War Collection

Chapter 3-2

partially* * *

I came too with the promised headache, one that actually encompassed my entire body as I sat on a metal bench at the transit point where I normally caught the tube back to my space from work. At least, they’d dropped me here instead of leaving me on the street. I owed Lincoln thanks.

I recovered enough to made it onto the third tube that blew by and slumped onto an uncomfortable seat. How lucky I’d been. I’d not actually wanted to do this; an involuntary reflex simply took over and demanded to be seen and heard. I had keys to a plot that could overthrow the current administration of Thiegler and possessed knowledge of secrets that the Standing Committee would repeatedly kill and revive me to access. The parts were all in place; they just had to be activated. I’d told someone about the plot, which realistically meant that the safest course of action would be to sell me to the highest bidder, take the money, and run!

This was still the best possible outcome; Lincoln had never asked me what I was doing when I encountered the Retrieval Squad. If she had, with the speakeasy charm still in force, I’d have told her and that would have been the end of everything. The disaster that hadn’t happened had be acknowledged before dealing with the one that had.

hadn’thadWhen I made it to the door of my space, I was ready to follow Lincoln’s lead and get inside any alcoholic drink but hope of that vanished upon entry. They were sitting about, drinking my wine, and looking very comfortable. The senior one, (she had that “senior” look), waved to the seat alongside her, which I humbly took.

“You’re late,” she said sternly, not offering any wine. “That’s quite inconvenient, so don’t be late again. I don’t like people who work for me to be late. Is that clear?”

I managed a nod. Agents of the Public Relations Office were the less visible and more powerful security section of Thiegler law enforcement, concerned with events and activities that had a broader, deeper scope that regular criminal activities. Political activities in particular were a focus of attention, because there was an election coming up for the Standing Committee.

Elections always brought a spike in Public Relations Office activity, a standard plot frame for countless shows on the lines and had become general knowledge about the Public Relations Office. Those shows were how I knew they were Public Relations Office agents. Both sported the standard uniform: scarlet-red tailored robes with a slight sheen. If you touched the robe with an energy wand, it would absorb the charge, which could be used against you.

“Good, the time hasn’t been entirely wasted. We’ve accessed your account and have set up relevant arrangements. It’s always much better if done from a verifiable location. Right, pay attention citizen, Mansard.” She peered more closely at me. “You look bad. Have you been drinking to excess? Sober up fast and take a shower, because you smell rancid.”

I rose without a word and went to the washroom where a hot shower did a world of good. A change into comfortable robes followed; if I was going to be fed to predators, at least I’d not be trying to pull underwear out of my arse c***k at the same time. I returned to the chair and looked, hopefully, agreeable.

Both were Naturals. The Public Relations Office only hired Naturals as agents, blatant illegal discrimination no one complained about. The senior agent was female, sable-black skin and hair, and dark bark-brown eyes. Her male partner had flame-orange skin and hair, and sun-yellow eyes. She was satisfied enough with my clean up to move to the main event and my place in it.

“Citizen Mansard, as you’re aware, there’s an election for the majority of the seats on the Standing Committee, to be held in a month. A majority election only occurs every eight election cycles, so it’s very significant and is normally contested by numerous candidates and groups. One of those groups is the United Platform for Citizen Respect. They represent non-born citizens like yourself. The United Platform for Citizen Respect is trending positively and is steadily gaining electoral support among non-aligned groups and could gain four seats in the election. That would make them an important force on the Committee and very influential over public policy. To ensure the community’s stability, it’s important to establish, definitively, that the United Platform for Citizen Respect is committed to upholding the foundation of the community and isn’t a threat to the future of Thiegler .”

Which translated as, “We have a problem—a wild-card group that looks like it could become a threat, which we won’t allow that. We’re going to find out if they need to be eliminated before the election or not. You’ll have a part to play in this process.”

I nodded again when she paused. Her partner continued to stare.

“You’ve volunteered to assist our investigation by becoming a campaign worker at the United Platform for Citizen Respect election centre. You’ll examine all the candidates and party officials at close range and assess the distance between their public and private policy limits. You’ll report everything you find directly to us in face-to-face meetings. If you speak of this investigation to anyone, you’ll be demoted to Involuntary Public Servant status for a period to be determined by a competent authority. Meanwhile, you’ll continue in your current role in the underground maintenance division and not make any major alterations to your living patterns. Any changes will be considered a security breach and accordingly responded to. Do you have questions? No? Good. You have an appointment at the United Platform for Citizen Respect election centre in 90 minutes for a position as a campaign worker. Be persuasive.”

Be persuasiveI had to ask. “Why me? I have no track records with campaigns.”

meThe fuzzy-haired agent spoke, his tone slightly impatient, as if having to explain was a burden. “You’ve been identified as the correct resource for the task. You’re expected to do your civic duty and you’ve been furnished with the information required to do it. Additional information and instructions will be provided, as necessary.”

I returned to nodding and looking as pleased, welcoming, and civic minded as possible. They regarded me for a full 60 seconds with aggressive silence before leaving. The evening promised to keep getting better and better.

One of the generally lesser known side effects of being Bottle-Born is a higher sensitivity to the presence of magic; we detected the presence of a charm even when shielded. Well, some of us could. The 18 months spent at the Fogler & Twist Warehouse had sharpened my focus. Fogler & Twist were high-end charm developers. While their custom work required considerable time and design, they used mass-produced items as the base item for that work and had a warehouse full of them.

Sorting and checking charms all day for defects was the sort of detail and boredom I’d been seeking, and constant exposure to them increased my sensitivity—that, and actually getting burned by one (another “lucky accident” of the type I seemed to attract). The charm that had burned me had been stuck on a high shelf without the owner’s awareness. I’d discovered it while on clean-up detail; when attempting to pull it free from whatever it was snagged on, it had burned me.

The burn charm was potent and had a specific user profile. All security-force issued charms would burn non-staff personnel on contact. Essentially a security device to prevent the charm from being used by an unofficial party. Most provided a sting as warning; this one gave a full-blown shock, designed to disable. The only reason I still had a hand was that I was wearing full-protection gloves, as required by warehouse policy (they’d not want grunt staff contaminating wares, would they now).

The charm self-destructed as part of the energy release of the burn. I’d had a chance to see it clearly—for a stunned blink—as I was propelled across an aisle. Working at Fogler & Twist did have advantages—in particular, access to a treasure trove of private information about charm patterns. As such, I was rather interested to check on mine. They didn’t have any information on the one I’d seen but did suggest a likely source. It was likely the charm had been made by and for members of a highly committed Human Rights group who wanted to abolish rights for Bottle-Born. I didn’t investigate beyond that suspicion and was now strongly wishing I had. The male Public Relations Office agent sported a similar charm on his wrist, made to mimic a standard Public Relations Office charm, and I noticed the hidden pattern.

I was being sent to investigate a Bottle-Born political group on the verge of political significance by someone who wanted to return the Bottle-Born to s*****y. Well, if I survived long enough to worry, I’d worry about it then.

then