*
“I thought you were supposed to put an end to these riots,” Commissar Absalom said, a wry smile on his face. “Sometimes I wonder if we got the raw end of our deal.”
A few weeks ago, a comment like this might have worried and annoyed Seth. After all, there was truth in Absalom’s words. Seth told the commissar that he would be able to help contain the resistance to the Spatial Preservation Act. Their deal was premised on the idea that he could communicate with his fellow disaffected citizens.
Now, it barely seemed to matter. The resistance had grown beyond anything Absalom anticipated. It seemed like the entire galaxy was rising up. And Seth was obeying the terms of the deal he made with the commissar to the letter. Every week, he went before the Republic press and gave a detailed summary of his observations. He emphasized that the Spatial Preservation Act was necessary and proper. He took questions from the audience, and handled himself well enough that no one questioned his sincerity. But it wasn’t enough.
“You’re asking the galaxy to swallow a bitter pill,” Seth replied. “I’m doing what I can, but it’s never going to go down easy.”
The two men sat in the back seat of an ImpulseCar on the highway between the New England Zone and the Mid-Canada Zone. They were on their way to see the design documents for yet another part of the Heilmann Drive. This time, it was one of the most important elements of the engine: the Compressed Envelope Map. The CEM was the computer system which handled the massive amount of data required to fold and subsequently restore the space within the Heilmann Leap.
Seth didn’t know what to think about the continued protests. He originally feared that they would hurt his position. If he could not reassure the masses and keep them calm, then the Republic didn’t have any need for him. Absalom could cut him loose or, even worse, stick him back in jail. But Seth was thrilled to see the people of Earth standing up to the Republic. When this all played out, he would need them. They would help him
After all, Seth’s plan hadn’t changed. Every time he got the chance, he carefully examined the plans for the various parts of the Heilmann Drive. He continued to reproduce them to the best of his ability. So far, he had approximately two-thirds of the design documents required to build a copy of the Heilmann Drive. When he was done, he would end this ridiculous farce of cooperation with Commissar Absalom, defect, and hand the plans over to another world, where the production of ships could start up again. In one fell swoop, he would end the Republic’s monopoly on faster-than-light travel and prevent the Fall.
“I wish we could show them the reports,” Absalom said. “Then they would understand.”
Seth shuddered. He tried not to think about the photographs he saw and the journals he read at the Europa observation outpost. It had been almost a month since he first laid eyes on them and he still had nightmares.
Ever since that day, Seth fought the temptation of doubt. He could still remember the terror in his heart when he looked upon the photographs and station journals. It was almost enough to make him agree with Absalom that the Heilmann Drive was a danger to the galaxy.
But Seth would never agree to that. No matter how terrifying the warped space was, it was not worth destroying human society. Outside of the reports from the distorted space station, everything Seth saw only convinced him that he was right.
Trade routes could be changed, re-routed through undamaged space. After all, it took two thousand years to see any effect from repeated Heilmann Leaps. A smaller number of leaps across new routes was all that was really necessary, at least until a solution could be found.
Suddenly, Seth felt his stomach lurch as the ImpulseCar made a sharp left turn. His hands gripped the seat, but he was still pushed up against the car door by the inertia. His head spun. They were going so fast that such a quick maneuver was dizzying.
“What was that?” Seth asked.
Absalom furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. This isn’t my usual driver. He knows not to take sharp turns on the exits like that. I’m going to have to--”
Seth’s heart skipped a beat. “This isn’t your usual driver?” he exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?” He grabbed the sleeve of Absalom’s jacket. “We need to get out of this car. Now.”
“We’re going two hundred miles an hour,” Absalom replied. “And I don’t understand what’s got you so worried.”
Worried was an understatement. Seth was terrified, and he couldn’t understand how Absalom could be so naïve. He was one of the highest ranking members of the military. He’d grown up on a brutal planet, tormented by his own family. Had so long in the Republic made him complacent? Of course it did. He didn’t realize that Seth was betraying him, either.
“Think about it, commissar,” Seth said. “Every week, I go on television and tell the public that the Spatial Preservation Act is in the best interest of the public. You are the head of the military unit charged with enforcing the Act. A lot of people are afraid of what this means, and they are rising up against it. They’re rising up against us. Don’t you see?”
Absalom stared at Seth as he realized the seriousness of their situation. “You think we are being kidnapped? Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s what I would do.”
The hum of the ImpulseCar engines began to fade. Seth could feel the car slowing down. “We’re stopping,” Absalom said. “We’re at least a hundred miles outside of the Mid-Canada zone.”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Seth replied. “Please tell me that you’re armed.”
Absalom nodded. “I’ve got a laser pistol and a utility knife.”
Seth thought about this for a second. He considered the commissar’s disability, as well as his own inexperience with energy weapons. “What kind of knife?”
The commissar reached into his jacket and pulled out a small blade. He looked at the handle. “Looks like a Berkshire Industries v-500. What does it matter?”
“That’s a good knife. High frequency vibration, over a thousand oscillations per second. You can’t get that kind of craftsmanship on Earth.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the commissar. “I’ll take the knife.”
“How do you know so much about--”
Seth put his finger to his lips, silencing the commissar. He grabbed the blade from Absalom’s hand and tucked it inside his sleeve.
The car crept to a stop. “Act like you don’t know what’s going on,” Seth said. “You’re surprised. Where are we? Why are we stopping?”
Absalom’s eyes went wide as he realized that Seth had some sort of plan, and that he had a role to play. He quickly recomposed himself and tried to sound genuinely angry.
“Where are we?” The commissar yelled. “Why are we stopping?”
The doors unlocked on either side of the back seat. “Keep the outrage up,” Seth whispered. “Make a scene. Make them restrain you.
“I don’t have time for this!” Absalom growled. “I have a very busy schedule. I--”
Click! The door on Seth’s side of the vehicle swung open. Thick hands grabbed him and puled him to his feet outside the ImpulseCar.
Brilliant white light blinded Seth as he stumbled out of the vehicle. Thick sheets of snow and ice covered the ground. The sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, reflecting off the frozen drifts.
His eyes struggled to adjust, to see where he was. There were no buildings in sight. He was correct. They were in the middle of nowhere, a few miles from the main highway.
This wasn’t a kidnapping. They were going to be killed.
The irony of all of this was not lost on Seth. These men who captured them were opponents of the Spatial Preservation Act. They should have been Seth’s allies. They wanted the same thing, they were after the same goal. There was only one difference: Seth’s plan was going to work.
Killing Commissar Absalom wouldn’t stop the Fall. It wouldn’t make the Republic r
econsider the Spatial Preservation Act. It would just make them turn on their citizens. The Republic would increase security and they would impose harsher punishments on protestors. At the end of the relocation, the Republic would still decommission all of the Heilmann Drive starships.
But Seth could preserve faster-than-light travel. He’d already copied the designs of several critical parts of the Heilmann Drive, and was prepared to pass them along to a more friendly government for reproduction. If these men killed him, along with the commissar, he could never complete his plan.
In order to save the Heilmann Drive, he was going to have to stop these men, no matter what side they were on.
Seth tried to look around and survey the situation. He could see six attackers. They were all male, and every one of them was larger than Seth. This wasn’t unusual. It didn’t worry him. It just meant that he would have to act quickly. He would have to surprise them. Once the real fighting began, they would immediately have the upper hand.
As he regained his balance, Seth’s eyes darted around, looking at the faces of the six men. He wondered if he knew any of them, if he’d ever encountered them back when he was searching for like-minded enemies of the Republic. These were all strangers.
None of the attackers were dressed in military uniforms, not even the driver of the ImpulseCar. How did Absalom fail to notice this? It didn’t matter. It was too late to do anything about it. There was no going back, only forward.
“I am a commissar of the Republican Military!” Absalom yelled as one of the men yanked him from the car. “Do you know what they will do to you when they find out about this? They will ship you off to the dankest hell-bound jail on the planet!”
Absalom began to thrash about, flailing at the men who assaulted him. He was much more agile than Seth imagined. He even swung his shattered leg side to side, trying to trip one of the attackers on his left.
Before long, all six of their captors were focused on the commissar. His spastic movement frustrated them, and even the man restraining Seth was distracted.
It was just like Seth hoped. They weren’t worried about him. He was small, a tick under 5’6”, and as thin as a rail. They probably thought he was sickly, or harbored a stimulant addiction. He was about to show them that he could not be underestimated.
Seth watched the man holding onto his shirt. He was the only one who wasn’t moving to restrain Absalom. Still, he was paying more attention to the fracas with the commissar than he was to Seth. That was about to change.
With a quick jerk of his forearm, Seth broke free from the hefty man.. He thrust his arm down, dropping Absalom’s knife from his sleeve and into his palm. His finger found the button near the back of the hilt. The soft hum of the vibrating blade filled the air, but it was too late for his captor to react. Seth swung his hand around and buried the serrated edge in the man’s neck.
As Seth felt the blade cut into flesh, he realized that this was a first for him. A born diplomat, he’d avoided fights as a child and a teenager. He’d never even thrown a punch and meant it. Now he was about to kill someone. All it took was a single swipe of a knife. It worried him how easy it was. He didn’t even feel any regrets. This was what had to happen. The man he killed was probably his ally. He was probably another freedom fighter, struggling against the tyranny of the Republic. But he was in Seth’s way.
Seth spun away and pulled the knife from the man’s neck. Blood spurted from the wound, flying at least a foot into the air . The man collapsed on his knees and his eyes rolled up into his head.
The other attackers looked back, momentarily stunned. They didn’t expect resistance. More than that, they didn’t anticipate that Seth would be the one fighting back.
They were caught off guard by his visceral attack. They were just like any other Republic citizens in that they were not accustomed to violence. If anything, they’d seen the action/adventure programs on the viewscreens. They were clean and sanitary. The heroes and villains used laser guns, which barely left a wound even on a deadly shot.
They didn’t know what real combat was. They didn’t understand real danger. And that was how Seth would defeat them.
“Now!” Seth shouted, rushing towards the men holding Absalom. “Shoot them now!” He grabbed the first one he saw and sliced his wrist with the knife. Another geyser of blood erupted through the air.
Absalom didn’t have to be told twice. The men surrounding him were in shock, watching their companions bleed out onto the snow. He reached down to his ankle and grabbed his laser pistol.
It only took a few shots. The air lit up with the shimmering light of the deadly weapon. Then they were all down.
The only ones left standing were Seth and Absalom.
“Holy shit,” the commissar said. “We’re alive.”
Seth nodded. “We’re alive.”
“You’re pretty good with a knife.”
“And your leg isn’t as bad as you want people to think.”
Absalom glared at Seth, but there was a smile on his face. “It just hurts, that’s all. It’s there when I need it.”
The two men took a second to catch their breath. Seth looked around. All of their attackers were defeated. Most of them were dead. A couple of them were still breathing, but bleeding so badly that they would never recover. It looked so much like a massacre that no one would have ever believed that it was originally a trap.
“We’re going to have to report this, aren’t we?” Seth asked. He flipped the knife around in his hand and presented it to Absalom. The commissar took it, wiped it on the snow at his feet, and returned it to a pocket inside his jacket. “Is this going to get us in trouble?”
“Don’t worry,” Absalom said. “These were sin-blooded terrorists. They deserved everything they got.” He tucked away his laser pistol in a holster around his ankle, leaned back, and laughed. “You know what, Mr. Garland? This is probably the best thing that could have happened. In hindsight, of course.”
Seth was confused. “We were almost killed,” he replied. “You... You can’t mean--”
“But we weren’t killed,” the commissar interrupted. “This was a cowardly move by the resistance. They can’t win the hearts and minds of the public, so they tried to murder us. How pathetic. This failed assassination will do more to discredit them than your weekly bulletins ever will.”
The world had turned on its side. Seth slumped over and sat in the bloodied snow, cradling his head in his hands as he tried to make sense of it. Five weeks ago, he was the first Republic citizen to challenge the Spatial Preservation Act on public television. He bullied his way on stage, interrupted the Chairman, and dared to ask the question on everyone’s mind. He was a brief sensation and the spark that instigated the only significant rebellion in the history of the Republic.
Now he’d killed several men who followed in his footsteps. They wouldn’t be martyrs. They would be terrorists. Their deaths would weaken the efforts of people everywhere to stand up to the Spatial Preservation Act.
“You may have saved my life today,” Absalom said, patting Seth on the back. “You’re a true friend to the Republic.”
Seth felt like he was going to be sick.