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Here it is, the first chapter of the two-part finale. The next part to come very soon.







"Yeah," He tried to say but only squeaked. "Thats true. But back then there was a difference between us..."






    10

  Spiderbats were about the only animals that could live on 
the rocky plains out here. They were much bigger than any birds 
and were carnivorous by definition. Ever since they became year 
round open game for anyone with so much as a slingshot, very few 
were seen flying around over the city in recent years. They were 
usually only seen during large storms when most people were 
inside their homes. Spiderbats fed mostly on birds, and the 
occasional small child left alone. The history books say they had 
been a plague on the city at one point, over a century ago. 
 
  I had shot down one or two of them myself, and never felt 
any remorse. With a wingspan of over forty feet, they were an easy 
target for a talented aim. It had even become legally viable to start 
firing at them in public. The only caution was that more and more 
had been seen lately and there was talk that the plague might be 
gradually phasing back. Their bodies had to be removed by the 
E.P.A. constantly. We all wished the species would just go extinct 
already.

  Our speeding-bullet train's final destination was actually a 
plateau of rocks, on which sat a large compound of tall buildings, 
wholly linked together at the base. The train entered a metal tunnel 
at the bottom of the slope and began turning counterclockwise in 
underground concentric circles which grew tighter until we 
emerged outside once again, a thousand feet up, pulling finally into 
the Lanz Island train station. There were no roads here, just a 
number of quickly moving sidewalks that lead in every direction. 
Emptying out onto the platform, we collected our one piece of 
luggage and hurried away. 

  Chris and I had not left the city in more than a decade and 
we did not know our way around. Alethea, who had lived here less 
than a year ago, spotted a framed floor-scheme, and we figured out 
which moving sidewalks to take to get to the courthouse. They 
were belts that had metal poles set in them to hold on to. We 
grabbed on as they whizzed by, stepped onto the plastic bases 
while the course wound its way through doors, under the floor, and 
over similarly crowded hallways. Finally jumping off, I hit the 
ground running in front of the desired door. 

  It said 'Incarceration Block Lambda,' and was an elevator. 

  No one was around to protest anything, so we walked into 
it and I pushed the only button; marked with an arrow pointing 
down. It felt like the floor dropped out from under us as the 
elevator carriage actually fell for twenty stories or so. Going in the 
other direction was usually just as fast in these things, shot back up 
the shaft by a blast of steam under pressure. I really hate elevators.

  Brakes locked, and we slowed to a stop, though not 
incredibly slowly. The car exited us into a dark hallway, Alethea 
and I following Chris, where hundreds of pipes and machinery 
panels protruded from the walls. This was definitely prison; it 
made me remember my not so brief stay in a similar subterranean 
gulag in the city. Lanz Island had been built over two hundred 
years ago during a short period where the Mandate was afraid of 
overpopulation. It was intended to be a large scale housing project, 
but was never used as such because it was too far removed from 
any work civilians could perform. This was mostly food 
production, and Turbine maintenance.

  In all of our historical records, there was never a mention of 
how to build any of our own power sources, except simple 
batteries, and alternators charged by Turbine gears. The fossil fuels 
we once had were too diluted to be of any use and gun powder was 
too unreliable. There had been some talk lately about somehow 
using the sun for power, but nothing had come of that yet. When 
the housing project was designed, no one knew how to keep it 
energized. So there they were in Lanz Island, a great plateau 
violated by all manner of machines and pipes; useless gears sitting 
silent because they had no motive force. We did not know why the 
Turbine turned, and consequently thought that if we just buried 
enough machinery into the ground it would somehow start to move 
also. No one thought twice about it when we turned out to be right.

  Boss: "Good work team, this sucker's up and running."

  Engineers: "But sir! We're not even half finished! None of 
the lines are connected!

  Boss: "Nonsense. The lights are on, aren't they? Isn't the 
water running? Or are you trying to say you lied on your expense 
accounts? 

  The real questions were lost in the endless ocean of 
progression that gave the Mandate its reason to exist. 

  Machinery had just started working one day, and though no 
one could figure out from the plans why,  bigger and better things 
needed to be dealt with, and the Mandate shut all the doors behind 
it. Why argue with reality, right? The press release said "Energy 
Source Construction Completed Satisfactorily." Months later the 
reality was ready to be lived in, and when that eventually fell 
through, ready to convict prisoners.

  It made me think. There were three possibilities for my 
friend Zig after his trial. He could be sent back to the city to spend 
the rest of his life underground. (The Mandate wanted its prisoners 
as far from their offices as possible.) He could be hypnotrained as 
a sanctioned laborer and serve the state for the rest of his life. Or 
the rest of his life could be reduced to a few hours, and he would 
never leave Lanz Island. None of the three were options I was 
considering. I had to talk Zig away from Wells, and then get out of 
this business entirely. Sunday got closer everyday, and my lack of 
sufficient track time was making itself present in my mind. Not 
that racing was more important than rescuing my friends, but as far 
as I had been told by Chris, it was Zig's fault he had gotten into 
this mess in the first place.

  I walked, and watched out for stretches of overhanging 
steam valves. The lack of imagination present in all contemporary 
buildings was really a lack of humanity. Neo Goethe was the latest 
excuse for architecture the government had dreamed up. It meant 
that tunnels like these could get away with being completely 
unpainted, wet, and really nothing more than mere spaces between 
pipes. It was cheaper, and no one cared that it was about as safe as 
a game of Mexican Sweat. The three of us walked carefully down 
the long hall, until it opened up into a small room with a desk, and 
a woman, and a man, and a rifle.

  The woman regarded me from behind her magazine, a 
recent 'Cest Moi.' Early thirties, bored, with a bare fourth finger. I 
compulsorily bucked up and flashed her my most charming 
smile--immediately to be asked what the hell I thought I was 
doing on this floor. 

  "Making friends?"

  "Oh yeah? I don't see em anywhere..."

  So much for the smile.

  When I informed her I wanted to see Zigwell, she laughed 
and went back to her magazine. On impulse I was about to ask her 
what the hell she was doing, when the older man with the 
government issue Mauser walked up to my side and told me to 
leave. 

  Apparently the prisoner's trial had already started, and I 
had the choice to either go find tickets or go fuck myself, for all he 
apparently cared. Fair enough.

  Alethea was half about to retort on my behalf, but not 
wanting to be shot, I put my hand over her mouth. We left the 
room and rode the elevator back to ground level. More important 
than anything the city could ever be entrusted with, and just so 
much larger than necessary, the Adams Demi-Arch Appeals Court 
sat twenty floors above us on the other side of Lanz Island.

  The moving bars swished around in silence. The fact that 
Zig's trial had already begun meant he was probably already being 
convicted. A serious attempt at armed rescue would be punishable 
by death for all involved. It would be death for me even if he was 
not sentenced, because I only had one strike left. Anything from 
reckless driving to robbing a vending machine could get me sent 
here. I hoped that this was the last I would ever have to see of 
Chris, Wells, and the inside of the Mandate's braincase.
 
  Tall men in black suits filed past me on both sides going 
the other way. The courthouse was just the three upper floors of 
the tallest building in Lanz Island, and we had to spiral up the 
interior on conveyor belts to get there. There were guards standing 
stock still outside these doors, but they let us pass through without 
a word. Inside was a line, and we got in back of it, hoping to get a 
ticket to sit in on the next trial. 

  A tiny stifled cry came from behind me. There was an older 
Spanish woman with a toddler in diapers who had fallen on his 
behind. Alethea carefully reached out her index finger, which the 
little man used to pull himself up. They exchanged smiles, and the 
mother thanked her. But when Alethea turned back to me, the 
smile had passed.

  I seemed to know what that secretly meant.

  "Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

  "Of course," she said somewhat nonchalantly.

  "I mean with this. Coming here."

  "I'm okay with it."

  "It isn't what you expected, is it?"

  She put her hand on my shoulder and rested her chin on it, 
still looking at the child. "I don't know what I expected, maybe 
marble columns and bleached wigs like you see on posters, but 
then you don't really come across much of that in real life 
anymore."

  "Reminds you too much of the city?"

  "Yeah. But I guess that's not a bad thing. I spent my entire 
life there and I'm happy."

  "I'm sorry I never asked you if you wanted to come. I 
assumed you wanted to see this through with me."

  "I do want to! Zig is a close friend and I know how much 
you two mean to each other. I want to help rescue him. It's too bad 
we can't just sign a form this time, though. Last night at that 
mansion must still be with me."

  "Me too."

  She looked up. "Don't worry about me, Screw. You've got 
bigger issues."

  "Still, I should have asked," and I tried to squeeze her hand 
reassuringly.

  When I finally reached the end of the line, a screen above 
the window said that the trial of Zigwell Cane, among others, 
would start in an hour. I got three pink admission passes, and the 
three of us sat down on a brick railing to wait for our case to be 
called.

  Zig would be brought up to the court room from a different 
entrance, so we would not have a chance to talk to him or even see 
him before the hearing began. The original plan was for us to meet 
him and discuss escape plans before he was convicted, but it 
looked like there would not be any time for that now. Wells or 
someone he knew had probably sped up Zig's processing somehow 
to stop us in our endeavor. Chris turned to me after the place 
cleared out somewhat.

  "What now?" I asked him.

  "Apparently we have to be let in to see him afterwards. 
That's when Wells makes his move."

  "If he is here at all."

  "Oh, he's here."

  "Will the old man be in any kind of fighting condition? I 
mean he got shot and fell out of a building two nights ago."
"That means nothing to him, unless it kills him on the spot. 
Wells is not built like the rest of us. But there's no need to go over 
that now, because I should be the only one fighting him. Hand me 
the bag."

  "Ok, here," Alethea said, and gave Chris the x-ray shielded 
duffel bag with our guns inside. Chris opened it part way, and 
stuffed most of a large G79 into his pants. I stifled a laugh. He 
zipped it back up, and threw it into my lap.

  "After the trial, go find a public restroom and arm yourself 
however you are prepared to do so. I will try to leave a little after 
you do, and catch Wells before he gets down to the Incarceration 
Block. You must go straight to Zig and get him out of the cell, 
because I will be detonating several bombs. We don't want any 
one trapped down there when the swat teams start showing up."

  "How the hell do I get Zig out of his cell? The place is 
bound to be tightly guarded. And they will probably not even let 
me in to see him, after he's convicted of a terrorist action."
Chris sighed, and leaned closer toward me.

  "Getting in is not the problem. Initially there will only be 
two guards; one in the anteroom where the check-in desk is, and a 
more heavily armed one patrolling the cells. Go in first and ask to 
see Zig, as by law every prisoner is allowed to see one set of 
visitors before execution. But more than likely they won't let you 
do this, citing some special case. If that happens, one of you has to 
shoot the guard, and the other must shoot the woman 
immediately."

  "We have to kill the receptionist?! Why?" Alethea said, 
shocked.

  "Because, little girl, she has a button under the desk she'll 
push that will send every armed officer in the Island running in 
your direction. She is actually more dangerous than either of the 
first two guards for this reason."

  "Is all this really necessary?" she asked.

  "Yes, I would have to say it is. If we don't find a way down 
there by nightfall, it will probably be too late. The marked 
prisoners are kept in different cells and they usually empty them at 
least twice a week. Maybe more in the Island. And it's necessary to 
spring the trap."

  "Which makes us the bait," I added.

  "You can look at it that way if you want. You knew what 
you were getting into when you came. I'll be about five or ten 
minutes behind you, tracking Wells."

  "How are you going to do that?"

  "He will be carrying several large energy sources with him, 
which give out radiation signals. This will find them." Chris 
opened his kevlar jacket part way, and showed me a small object 
which looked like a microdisc recorder. He only let me see it for a 
brief instant before putting it back, and zipping up his jacket.

  "It's on right now but nothing has shown up yet. Once you 
get past the desk, you may have to take another elevator and go 
even farther down to where the prison cells are." He leaned in 
closer. "There will be a retina scanner here, and I hate to say it, but 
you know what you will probably have to do."

  I said nothing but Alethea raised her brow, not getting what 
we were talking about.

  "Once you're in, drop the guard, and use his keys to get 
into Zig's cell. Here comes the hard part. Inside the bag is a 
thermite bomb. Get out of the cell, push the red button on the 
bomb, and toss it in. The superheated explosion will eat right 
through the metal walls, and the pipes in them. From here you 
climb down through whatever machinery is there until you find a 
walkway. There are hundreds of maintenance tunnels down there 
that haven't been used for years. They lead outside into the 
mountains, where there are more than a few places to hide. If I 
haven't joined you by then, wait there, and I will catch up."

  "If you don't?"

  "Then you have to get back into Lanz Island and take the 
train back to the city by yourselves. You may have to steal some 
clothes to disguise your friend. If they catch you, you're on your 
own. Hell, hijack the whole damn train if you have to, just don't 
get spotted by any Special Forces officers."

  Alethea and I nodded.

  "I wish I had more time to fill you in, but the trial is about 
to start."

  "This all seems way too easy. Only two guards outside a 
government prison?"

  "Just a setup. Wells wants you to make it underground, 
where he can get at you without interference. Real cops will be 
after him as much as they'll be after you. Now come on. We have 
to look interested in the proceedings."



-------------



  It took our impartial jury twenty-five minutes to indict 
Zigwell with everything from criminal conspiracy to murder in the 
first. He was not alone; they had found two other disheveled 
youths to be his accomplices as he had been caught nowhere near 
the scene of the crime. Petty thieves brought in to make the DA's 
case seem stronger. I felt sorry for them, and I saw one was 
actually crying on the bench, unable to wipe his eyes because of 
the shackles. 

  Verdict: guilty. 

  Sentence: death by toxic exposure. This would be carried 
out by the end of the week and there were no appeals. Zig was 
cursing up a storm, for all the good it would do him. He saw us 
sitting in the back row towards the end of the trial and winked 
inconspicuously. I nodded slightly. There was so much commotion 
in the court room, mostly on the side of the accused, neither 
gesture was noticed.

  The guards finally beat the three of them into submission 
with night sticks right there in the court room, and took them down 
the stairs. Zig had kept up the act so no one would suspect but he 
took his lumps for it too. Chris, Alie, and I left the room with the 
rest of the spectators and filed out into the side lobby. Everyone 
else was either an employee, a reporter, or a law student. The 
College frequently took it's undergraduates here to educate them in 
the ways of government procedure. I thought it was more to 
desensitize them than anything else. 

  The case had in no way been pushed to a reasonable doubt, 
and since I knew for a fact that all three were innocent, any 
evidence they may have come up with was obviously counterfeit. 
The Mandate has to raise new successors in its kind, though, and 
the conviction-for-convenience method was one thing that need to 
be instilled in every member of staff early on. I had thought about 
College before, though never spent any real time there. Only the 
sons of government workers went there and I was not such a man. 
Besides, racing would let me live just fine without a legal 
education, as I had always told myself. 

  I had only been right in a way. Government employees did 
not spend six years underground and four more on probation for 
"Malicious Intent."

  I grabbed Alethea's hand and slung the heavy duffel bag 
over my shoulder. We walked quickly away from the smarter 
students who weren't waiting around for the stenographer to post 
her legally approved dialogue. We headed toward the first 
sidewalk we found, grabbed poles, and rode back to the 
Incarceration Block. Chris was nowhere to be seen, but I assumed 
he would be doing his job with the precision and diligence of an 
architect. I still suspected that the old man in question might not 
even be here, no matter what sort of information Chris had. I was 
actually far more worried about there being thousands more prison 
guards than Chris suspected and being shot to death before I even 
found Zig's cell. But that was just a feeling.

  I repetitiously checked my watch, it was getting to 8:30 
PM. The idea was to wait a while before following Zig 
underground so that the officers escorting him would have time to 
leave, and the area would be as empty as possible. Alethea and I 
stopped by a food court to grab a late dinner. We were the only 
ones not dressed up, possibly in the whole building, but since Lanz 
Island was technically open to the public, no one said anything to 
us directly. We just got a few stares and poor service. But that was 
to be expected. Twenty minutes later we left and spotted a public 
unisex bathroom. I took the bag in with me first, and opened it in a 
stall.

  I put my Beretta in my shoulder holster and found the 
thermite bomb. It was a little smaller than a cantaloupe, fairly 
difficult to conceal. So I put it back in the bag, and dug around for 
anything else that might come in handy. I strapped an H&K G79 
submachine gun to my back under my coat. Even if I could not get 
to it quickly, it would still evade detection, and I might have to 
lose the bag. There were a few grenades which I pocketed, and I 
stuffed as many extra magazines in my belt as I could. I left the 
lighter array for Alethea. Since she said she had never used guns 
before, the kick of the larger pieces could knock the handle out of 
her hand. I needed her help with the guard in the anteroom and she 
couldn't offer it if she disarmed herself the first time she tried to 
fire. I zipped up my jacket half way so I could get to my pistol 
easily. The other weapon on my back was hard to walk with, but I 
had a feeling it would not remain there for long. I left and found 
Alethea.

  She was waiting nervously, and I told her exactly what to 
do inside. When she emerged a few minutes later, she told me she 
had two pistols and some sort of gas canister. It would be enough. 
Thank god Chris always came over-prepared. I slung the bag over 
my shoulder, and we once again went through the metal elevator 
doors which would drop us twenty stories into the underground 
prison which gave the rest of Lanz Island its notoriety.

  Familiar falling sensation, familiar passageways lined by 
dripping pipes straight out of an alien movie. When I got to the 
tiny room and desk, I was glad to see that there was still only one 
guard. It was not the same man as before, but the woman with the 
magazine was, and noticed me immediately.

  "You again! What do you want this time?"

  "To see Zigwell Cane, prisoner 2-27066136. I was told he 
could have visitors before his execution."

  "Sorry, sir. Specific orders not to let anyone down. I 
received a memo straight from the Internal Ops central office."

  Well, Chris warned me. "Let me see the memo," I said.

  "I can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I don't feel like it."

  "What?"

  "I don't know what it is, really," she said. "You just rub me 
the wrong way."

  "But it's his right!"

  "Sir, I couldn't give a flying-"

  "You bitch!" I said loudly. The guard in the opposite corner 
looked up from the small screen on the wall, and stood up.

  "Too bad! Go cry to your little girlfriend, pal!"

  "I want to see Zigwell Cane now!" I yelled.

  The guard, taking no chances, walked quickly over to me 
and put a hand on my shoulder. My muscle was too noticeably 
tense, but I relaxed it with willpower.

  "Hold it." He almost sounded bored. I could tell they hadn't 
left the Incarceration Block in the hands of an amateur. "You make 
a disturbance and I'll beat the piss out of you. So please leave
quietly." 

  The cop had his hand on his nightstick, and left his Mauser 
slung around his shoulder, which was good. I turned to Alethea at 
my left and said, "Do it."

  I dove over the desk and tackled the woman out of her 
chair. Simultaneously, Alethea pulled out her pistol and fired at the 
guard from a foot away. 

  But she was too slow, and I kicked myself for not realizing 
it earlier. He punched the gun out of her hand, following with a 
boot in her stomach. She fell hard to her knees with a strained rasp.

  I pulled out my Beretta and started firing, while the guard 
did the same thing. He dove toward the far side of the room and 
the second elevator, as I jumped back on the desk. The Gyrojet 
rounds went right through the floor around the guard, but he was 
moving to fast for me to get a mark on him. The room was 
extremely small, so weaving around was about the best I could do. 

  He raised his rifle at my head and I threw myself at his paunchy 
stomach. The Mauser went off and missed me as the two of us fell 
to the ground in a heap. I hit him in the mouth several times with 
my gun, and was about to shoot him when he kicked me off. I fell 
backward, tripping over the desk in the center of the room.

  The guard grabbed his rifle and fired twice at my back as I 
tried to get off the ground. The first missed me by less than an 
inch, and the second connected. By act of miracle though, the 
bullet hit the G79 under my jacket, and ricocheted into the ceiling. 

  He did not pull off a third shot because Alethea had picked 
her gun from the floor, and with a yell of frustration and fear, 
pulled the trigger. 

  The echo in the room was deafening, cracking the glass 
frames which held the latest memorandums from the I.O. 
Director's office. Another high pitched scream sounded behind me, 
but it could have come from the man, momentarily clutching his 
bicep. Alethea squeezed until the seven shot Colt .45 clicked 
empty, the overconfident security guard lying still at her trembling 
feet.  

  I pushed myself up with an arm as quickly as I could and 
moved toward her, stepping over the body. The pistol dropped 
from her hand and I wrapped my arm around her shoulder.

  She cried, "He shot you in the back! I thought he hit you!"

  "No, No! The rifle! Look!"

  "But-"

  "But if you hadn't shot, he would have. You saved me."

  "Oh god, is he dead!?"

  "Well, clinically." For some reason I tried to keep it light.

  "But I didn't-"

  "Hey! It was him or me, right? You did what you had to do. 
I'd have done the same thing for you."

  "I didn't want it to be either one of you! It's not right at 
all!" There was confusion in her speech, and I had to talk her down 
before any kind of conscious shock set in. That was one thing we 
couldn't afford.

  "Good. That means it was merely necessary. Here, take this 
and reload it while I check the receptionist." Simple tasks usually 
helped. For a second I couldn't believe I was forcing this on a girl I 
had met less than a week ago. Testament to the fact that things in 
my life were still getting out of hand. "I think she passed out when 
I hit her."

  Around the other side of the desk, the heavyset woman had 
awakened and was crawling forward. She reached out a hand 
toward a black button concealed on the underside of it, but I kicked 
her arm away. She screamed and kept screaming until I pushed her 
down and ripped off her stockings, stuffing one in her mouth, the 
other wrapped around her neck twice and tying it there. The dead 
guard had handcuffs, which I put on her, pocketing the key. She 
squirmed, but I slapped her again and told her to sit still. 

  "Count your blessings," I said so only she could hear, and 
pointed over my shoulder. "If my girlfriend hadn't been here..."

  The woman settled down a little, bound to her chair, and 
glared at me through a trickle of blood running down from a 
wound unseen, in her mess of greasy hair. 

  When Alethea was ready, I took her arm and said, "Stay 
with me now. If it all goes well, we'll only have one more of these 
scrubs to deal with, and he won't be expecting us."

  "It never 'all goes well,'" she said bitterly. 
I could not argue with that, so I kissed her cheek instead, 
and led her through the door to the rear of the room. There was no 
point in disguising the bodies, because when the next person came 
down here and saw all the blood, alarms would be wailing from 
here to the aqueduct. 

  Well then. Just one other lovely bit of business to go.

  The guard's head had almost been completely shot off, and 
while Alethea was not looking, I grimly finished the job. I wrapped 
the object in the man's own blue uniform shirt, and carried it 
behind me. I almost vomited during the process but it had to be 
done. 

  The rear door led directly to another elevator, and we took 
it down to the Incarceration Area. It was a long bumpy ride but I 
had expected nothing less. No words were spoken on the way 
down. The elevator finally asked me to scan my retinas before it 
would grant me access, and so I told Alethea to look the other way 
while I took the appropriate actions. The doors opened for me 
without problem, and I threw the bundle into a crevice as I left. 

  I wasn't sure, but she may have asked what I had done. 

  If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything 
at all.





------------
------------





Chap 11, the conclusion of Part 1 coming next!
Age old debts cryptically settled!
Masks unveiled!
Very very soon!
See you there! 
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