EXCOLO: GUARDIANS

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Chapter 1: Another Beautiful Day in the Dome

It is early evening as I leave my office, sunset streaking through the Dome, the pale glow of the Gate coming from the east so that there is light from both sides. I love this time of day. The clouds are scudding fast, and I think there may be a storm tonight. I find myself regretting I do not have any particular reason to go into the Outer Districts tonight. The city under the Dome is very graceful, of course, but I like to be in the open air.

However, I have arranged to meet a friend for a drink, and so I stroll the three blocks from the university to Illyria, a bar popular with academics and the artistic crowd. As well as Guardians, of course. There is something of La Belle Epoque to the warm wood and soft lights. I absently tap the bust of Shakespeare for luck as I come in - his forehead is worn from thousands of patrons doing this, though no one knows from where the tradition originated - and I find a table. I flip through an e-newspaper on the table viewer as I wait for my drink to arrive. I minimise The Excolo Times; it is a worthy paper, well written and reputable, but I am interested in The Recorder. We are keeping an eye on some of its reporters.

Comments

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"I was hungry," says Benedict, and I raise an eyebrow, wondering if that is a joke in rather poor taste. He begins to talk, and I nod.

"Miao and I were both discussing the same issue," I say. "A happy coincidence." Or not. Benedict does have a way of turning up at appropriate moments. Usually before he takes a bite from someone. I do not consider myself at risk from him, however. The Corporation has never had any reasons to doubt my loyalty. "Do join us, then. A drink?" I ask him, and I glance toward the bar and see Parras Desmet. An attractive woman, although ambitious in a cold sort of way. I like her, however, and I raise a hand and smile, and -

My head snaps up as there is a soft sighing sound, and I have time to drop my head to the table and push Miao's down as the front windows explode inward.

[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

Benedict joins us with no invitation, which is somewhat rude, I think, but neither Lex nor I protest. "There has been some concerns among Management about rumours regarding a rise in the trafficking of certain substances. As your work puts you in among the city populace, I was asked to check in, to see if you'd heard similar things."

Parras is sitting nearby. I smile and raise my hand to her as Lex responds to Benedict, inviting him to stay after the fact. I am about to add in my own impressions when Lex suddenly seizes me and forces my head down. I have only a split-second to wonder what he is doing when there is a blast and the sound of shattering glass. I cry out against the tabletop as shards and chunks of plaster rain around us, my ears ringing and throbbing from the noise.

When I raise my head, my heart is pounding. Several of the tables nearest the front of the bar have been overturned, and there are people on the ground - unconscious or dead, I know not. My ears are ringing, and something is tickling my hair. I touch it, and my fingers come away red. "Is everyone alright?" I say, and am amazed that my voice is not shaking.

[tess-thiess.livejournal.com]

I've got my apparatus set up. There's lots 'a devils here - so powerful I have t'shut it down quickly 'afore I attract attention. At least five, all 'v 'em from the lowest circles.

The Chinese one, the woman. I remember her from the riot two weeks ago. She walked through the crowd and they fell away weepin'. If 'm quick I can do it. A short spell to blur the memory of my features, and audacity'll take care 'a the rest.

And then the windows blow in and there's a flash as the ward shatters. Fuck. I step up into the silence after the blast, the shooter fallin' with practised ease into my hand. Three steps, a quick pop and the click 'a the action cyclin' and then I'm leavin', the side door in my sight, not even lookin' back.

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

"Is everyone alright?" Miao says over the roar in my ears, but I am already on my feet. I switch my earpiece to the emergency frequency.

"Emergency," I say, and I know that in the crash room the computers are triangulating my location. "Alpha Red," I add, to bring in the appropriate response teams. I glance at Miao briefly, see that she is mostly unhurt, and then I climb onto the table.

"Everyone," I say, very calmly, letting my shoulders relax, my hands rest by my sides, palms out. People keep talking, crying, whimpering. A man is making a thick wet sound. "Quiet." I feel the pressure of the thought expand in my head and then radiate outward. "Quiet, please. Everyone is going to sit still, and then we are going to talk." I jump off the table. "Can you keep people calm, Miao?" I say, and then I move across the bar.

[benedict-donner.livejournal.com]

Dr. Shairan invites me to join Ms. Lei and himself, and I am settling myself at the table when his head jerks around. I follow his gaze, and then there's a thump and a roar and Shairan is dropping his head. The explosion tosses me backwards, and I feel my spine crack into a post with a snap that seems surprisingly loud, given the explosion.

I am quite lucid as I fall. Everything is quite slow, and clear, and I must admire the way Shairan takes charge of things as the dust begins to settle.

There is a burning know low in my back as the bones knit and nerves reconnect. The advice I received was disturbingly accurate. I feel liquid running down my lip and suck it back in, for I can't afford to lose any of what I took just now.

I wonder if anyone else saw the woman who shot at Ms. Lei. I pull myself up as my legs begin to respond. Ms. Lei is bleeding slowly from her scalp. I am amazed at her luck, for is her assassin had been in any less hurry she would be dead, and I would be trying to preserve what I could, in my own way.

[lei-miao-shan.livejournal.com]

Lex calms everyone in his usual easy and efficient manner, and asks me to help keep everyone quiet. It is him that I focus on; his calmness and his determination. That is what I focus and project on those around us, overpowering their fear and their pain. My own head is beginning to hurt, a slow, steady throb, but I do not allow it to stop me. This is our duty. This is why we are here.

As I work, I think that I see Madame Voronin slipping out through the doors. But I do not let it trouble me. All of my thoughts, all of my energy, go into what I am doing; pushing Lex's calmness, Lex's confidence, into the frightened minds of the crowd.

[benedict-donner.livejournal.com]

The scent of blood in the bar is quite overwhelming, and were it not so public - I must remember to keep such thoughts to myself. Dr. Shairan and Ms. Lei seem to have the situation well in hand, and I doubt I can be of use. And of course, I recall seeing a pale blonde woman leaving with bodyguards - Mrs. Voronin.

My legs find their function as I leave, the small cuts healing with small sounds of glass hitting the floor as shards are pushed from my skin. Kind of the Company to provide such sustenance.

The car is big, and dark. It is quite secure, I am sure, and so I do not touch the window, merely fold my hands and wait in my torn bloodstained clothing. She will see me, I am sure.

[benedict-donner.livejournal.com]

I cannot see inside, but eventually one of her men comes out to let me inside. Big and square, like most bodyguards. It is an amusing thought, them protecting her, but with her gifts they can deal with any neutered physical threats.

"Hello Benedict."

The car is cool inside, and quite. It smells of leather and faint perfume, and now of dust and blood. My ears are still ringing, but it fades slowly in the quiet of the interior. "What a to do that was. Miao and Alexander are no doubt in their element. There were people killed," she says, unperturbed. "How many, do you think?"

I think back to the blood, and the shape and movement of bodies. The moans as people realize they are alive. "Some six or seven, I imagine. Those near the windows and those hit fatally by debris. Another dozen injured, with the remained shocked and mildly hurt." I shake my head. "It could have been much worse, I suppose." I do not comment on her condition - Mrs. Voronin could hardly be other than fine, and if not it would be well not to comment on it.

[benedict-donner.livejournal.com]

She looks past me while I speak, gazing at the wreckage with bland equanimity. "Oh, much worse indeed," she agrees when I finish speaking. "I do not think any of ours were hurt, not badly, and so this becomes a meaningless act." I am not sure I agree, for they get better with practice, and next time I might not have been so cautious, or Dr. Shairan so swift.

"Not senseless, certainly, for there is always a motive, but meaningless, in the scheme of things." Mrs. Voronin leans close and flicks away a speck of debris with one slim, elegant finger. "They will always be afraid of us, Benedict. Should fear be punished, do you think?"

I frown for a moment. "Fear is healthy, but if it becomes overwhelming it can be turned to anger, and to rebellion. Best to show our good face to the general public, and then to eradicate those hopeless cases without mercy or hesitation." I smile. "Unless it is better to give malcontents known groups to join, so that we can keep an eye on them more easily." I glance out the window. "This sort of thing could be done just as easily by a single unknown terrorist - better we know who they are."

[benedict-donner.livejournal.com]

I wonder if I have gone too far, but Mrs. Voronin has never minded my peculiarities. I suspect she sees them as a tool to be used - much like myself. "They use to burn witches, in days gone by. Out in the badlands, the practise resurfaces periodically." I nod absently. I have seen people burn, have burnt them in fact when bodies were inconvenient, but I haven't seen anything quite so ritualistic. My own needs are more expedient.

"Fear is already anger. Anger at the inevitable. They are afraid because they know they will be replaced, one day."

I look down at my hands, crusted with flaking blood fading to brown. "Not yet inevitable, I think, but soon. We're better, frankly, and even the enemies of the Company have embraced that fact."

Her words again agree with my own, which would be more gratifying were I not her student in such things. My opinions should be expected to reflect her own much of the time. "People forget that a terrorist is a useful tool, whether he knows it or not. Zealotry trains their mind into obeying, one has only to change their focus. And the renegades, well..." My lip curls. "Chaff to be winnowed clean."

Mrs. Voronin looks as me speculatively. "I wonder if you would like to play a little game, Benedict." I still my features and body, my eyes bright. "We have a man at the facility who can tell a great deal about a person by their scent, and the scent they leave behind. He isn't to be trusted, but you might visit him, and utilise his gifts at the scene." She looks past me again. "Just between us, of course."

I nod. "Of course," I say, my voice hardly betraying a quaver of anticipation. "I shall be discreet, when I return." It's difficult to remain discreet when eating someone's flesh of course, but who cares about this man, so long as he is still available afterwards?

"I shall go directly, I think. This scene has rather motivated me," I explain rather euphemistically. "Good day to you, Mrs. Voronin."