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The deputy stepped out of his cruiser after carefully parking it in its designated space. He closed its winged door as the outer garage slid shut and the air pumps engaged blowing the foul air out of the garage.
The deputy listened to the sucking sounds of the pumps, dulled by his air exchanger. In a moment the pumps would reverse and blow the fouled air back in. This time the air would be filtered to remove the outside poisons making it breathable. Then the inner airlock would open and he could enter his home. This process only took seconds to complete. The inner airlock opened before he could cross the garage.
The deputy pushed the hood of his body suit from his head and removed the plastic bubble and breathing filters that covered his face. He inhaled deeply, smelling the air. The air smelled slightly spoiled. He would have to change the filters soon, at least sometime before his family returned from their trip. Tonight, and the rest of the week, he would be all alone. He grudgingly accepted the solitude.
Inside the inner airlock, he carefully removed his body suit by unzipping it down the front and pulled out his arms and legs while holding on to the gloves and shoes of the suit to prevent damaging it. Even though the suit was thin, it was made of tough rubber and unlikely to tear, but it was the only thing that protected his skin from being burnt by the toxins in the air. In any case, he hung it carefully in its prearranged place.
Once inside the complex and free of his constraining uniform, although anyone who ventured outside had to wear a similar protective covering, what made his covering a uniform was the insignia that declared he was a member of the Territorial Regulation Organization and Law Enforcement Service or TROLES. Once free of the TROLES he could get about patrolling and controlling his own home, as his colleagues would joke.
Being a law enforcement officer, his first response was to check the premises for any unauthorized activity. Although he lived in the territories and anything of any interest rarely occurred, he checked anyway. He knew he would have to check the air exchangers in the complex, the smell in the garage told him that. But first, he would check the parameter censors and the sub-sonic transmitters, which were designed to keep the skirls, a large stupid bird, from landing on the roof. Both could be accomplished at the command center. Every home in the territories also had one of these.
The day’s computer record showed no movement in the parameter except his own departure and arrival. The transmitters were still functioning properly. He went to check the roof anyway. If the transmitter was down for any period of time, not only could the skirls have landed, possibly doing damage with their large sharp talons, they also had a tendency to leave droppings in the hole they left.
Visual inspection showed everything in order. Damage done by a skirl to the roof was no small matter, not just that the bird’s poop stinks, but the entire roof was made of hard clear plastic to let the weak sunlight into the complex’s food supply. Like the air, the soil was also toxic and all food had to be grown indoors. The deputy’s family happened to grow food on their enclosed roof.
In the darkness of the evening, he made a visual survey of the premises. He could see nothing that might be of concern except a skirl off on the distant horizon. Satisfied nothing was afoul he began to round up something to eat and settle in for the night.
Entertainment in the territories was almost nonexistent. He could always get something on his satellite communication system from the city. He did not really want too, besides he had too much work to do. He picked up the latest manual he received at his last in-service conference. If he could just understand this material he might be promoted, else wise he would remain stuck in his present job. It was slow reading. He could feel himself dozing off. Soon he was asleep.
The deputy floated in a light doze. He dreamed of himself as a bouncer in search of renegades fleeing from the law. He saw himself chasing the lawless through the rocky landscape of the territories, his companion rover waiting patiently for his call. He saw the renegade scaling a low cliff. He came in for the kill. He pointed the gun protruding from his forehead and with a thought fired a single blast. One shot was all he needed and the renegade was left lying, unconscious on the ground in his protective suit and air exchanger. The gun was not designed to kill but only to stun. His companion rover was unable to reach the renegade. He signaled TROLES as his programming instructed.
Now back at command headquarters, the deputy received the signal from one of the many bouncers he was monitoring. He dispatched the recovery team and signaled the bouncer that the call was received. The signal should have stopped but did not. He tried to stop it himself but it kept it steady beeping. He struggled with the control panel knowing something was wrong. Panic began to rise in him, and his stomach hurt. “I screwed up again, I’m going to lose my job.” He felt disoriented, then alone, then scared.
Now he was at home and the complex parameter had indeed been violated. The sensors detected movement. The internal alarms sounded. The deputy was awake, his job was not in danger, he was. “Don’t be a vacuum head,” he told himself. “Air can’t even get in here except through the filters.” He took several deep breaths to calm himself and began to cough when he inhaled too quickly. He would have to wait for his visitor to identify themself as friendly or not.
The parameter sensors would alert him of any movement within a fifty-meter radius of the house. The sub-sonic transmitter would detour any skirl or other animal from coming near the complex, he could not hear it but they sure could and it hurt them. Whatever the sensors had picked up had to be human. It would also take them several minutes for them to reach the house if this was where they were heading.
The deputy went to one of the outer view ports over the outer airlock adjacent to the garage where he entered. From here he could see a solitary person moving in his direction, judging from their size and build it had to be a man.
This kind of approach was unusual. Normally when someone came to visit, they communicated it ahead of time. Mostly for convenience but also for safety. Out in the territories, people live far apart, and being alone outside could be dangerous. Sub-sonic transmissions kept away the predators but damage to your protective suit or air exchanger could leave you dead in a matter of hours.
The deputy opened the airlock for his late visitor. As a member of TROLES he was obligated to help anyone in distress. This stranger seemed to need assistance.
In their preliminary conversation through the intercom, although muffled by the stranger’s air exchanger, the deputy was informed of the visitor’s distress. It seemed that this man had a small accident with his land cruiser.
He had been walking for miles to find a place to call for help when he came across the deputy’s home. A quick call for help and he would be on his way.
Why did he not make the call himself at the accident site, the deputy thought. All transport vehicles are fitted with communication. It seemed unlikely it would have been damaged with the driver still alive. He allowed him in any way.
When the man emerged from the airlock the deputy could gauge the size of him. The deputy was small in comparison. This man was tall and built large. With his mask off and hood down, the deputy could see his tangled red hair and bearded face, which gave the man a comic look. From the lines on his face and the clarity of his eyes, the deputy could see that he was experienced, at what he did not know, and was nowhere close to retiring to the city with the all kinds of vacuum heads. The man stood looking at the deputy then suddenly thrust out his hand.
The deputy felt a little stupid. That was not a new feeling to him. When this strange man shoved his hand out the deputy had recoiled like he was trying to hand him a bomb.
“Hold on there, I’m not going to hurt you, thought you might like to shake hands,” the man had said. “My name is Mitch, Mitch Vaden.”
Vaden held his hand out again. The deputy took it. Vaden’s handshake was strong and his hands rough. The deputy winced a little under the pressure.
“Dale,” the deputy said, “Dale Garn, that’s my name.”
Vaden’s eyebrows furrowed. Mitch scrutinized the deputy for a moment then relaxed. “Well Dale,” he said, “I don’t like to bother the good folks out here in the territories, especially at this time of night. Would you be neighborly enough to let me use your phone?”
“As a member of the Territorial Regulation Service,” everyone he knew shortened the title, it was just too much to say. “It is my duty and obligation to assist any citizen in need.” He said it just as he was instructed to. Dale did not really speak that way; he said it because that was the way he was supposed to and it sounded impressive. He also hoped it would impress Vaden.
Vaden wasn’t. “You’re a TROLE,” he said. “What wonderful luck to have stumbled across your complex.”
“What kind of trouble are you having, you said something about an accident.”
“I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I wrecked my cruiser.”
“You must have been very lucky not to have been hurt.”
“What do you mean?”
“The wreck must have been pretty bad to have damaged your communication equipment. Elsewise you would not be here.”
“I guess I was luckier than I thought.”
“Do you want me to call the service so they can remove it for you?”
“No, I’ll have a friend of mine come and get it.”
“We usually don’t do things that way.”
“It will be easier this way. Why bother the good people at the service? A short call and I will be out of here.”
“Don’t you want it repaired?”
“My friend can fix it.”
“Is he authorized?”
“Very.”
Dale did not like this breach of protocol. When an accident occurred out here it was standard procedure to call the service and have them retrieve the vehicle and for a small fee repair it. They also search for unauthorized materials and equipment, as a precaution, before returning it to the owner.
“What did you mean by ‘very’?”
“It’s just that I am in a hurry to get somewhere. Leaving the cruiser with a friend would be much easier.”
“How are you going to get there without your cruiser?”
“I’ll find a way.”
The deputy was becoming suspicious. Vaden was getting annoyed.
“How?”
“I’ll have my friend take me to the city. I’ll get transportation
there.”
“The city is a long way.”
“I’ve been traveling a long way and I have a long way to go. If I don’t leave the cruiser with a friend the service will confiscate it. I’ll never see it again.”
The deputy considered the argument. It sounded reasonable and he was definitely correct. The service would keep any unclaimed property after a period of time. His friend couldn’t pick it up, they would not give it to him.
“All right then.”
Vaden seemed relieved. The deputy still felt unsure.
“I guess you’ll want to use the phone.”
“Many thanks. I bet you make a great cop.”
“I do my best. This way.” Dale took Mitch to the command center of the complex.
The command center was made up of a small room in the interior of the complex. The room was filled with the usual equipment, transmitters, sensors, cameras, monitors, computers, and communication. It also includes some special equipment he used as part of his job, such as his ability to monitor and communicate with the ASR units. He could even do most of his job here, without even leaving his home.
Dale showed Vaden to the phone. Vaden picked it up and gave Dale a look seeming to indicate that he wanted to be left alone. Dale resisted, moving only to the other side of the room. He was not going to leave Vaden in the room alone. Vaden seemed to get the message, turned, and began to enter a series of numbers. After a moment he began to speak.
The conversation seemed normal. Dale did not suspect anything serious was happening. He was still suspicious; it was his job. The events of the evening were a little out of the ordinary, but he supposed that such things could happen. Dale felt somewhat reassured that things were all right. Maybe a little too coincidental but possible.
Vaden’s conversation with his mysterious friend told Dale that his accident was not far away. His friend lived in the city and would come and pick him up along with his cruiser. Vaden would only need to return to the accident scene and wait. Dale felt Vaden was a lucky person and his luck kept increasing. His accident was close by. He knew someone in the city, where he did not even live, who could come and get him and take care of his cruiser, probably a person retired from the service. He wondered where Vaden was heading on his long journey. And all the while managing to elude the ASR units and the skirls and escape a bad wreck without being hurt. Lucky indeed. Now for the problem of getting Vaden back to his wreck and picked up. One thing that Vaden said really bothered Dale was when Vaden said to his friend, “what was Richard’s last name?” When he heard that he forgot everything else Vaden said. Richard, that was his father’s name.
“Everything is all set,” Vaden said as he hung up the phone. “It will be a while before my friend gets out here. Mind if I wait for a while? It will give us a chance to talk.”
“About what?” Dale said, still lost in his own thoughts.
“I think I knew your father.”
Dale looked at him somewhat stunned forgetting all of his own thoughts. The mention of his father only served to increase his suspicion.
“You knew him?” Dale said
“Yes, I did. He was a good man.”
Dale was surprised at Mitch calling his father a good man. His father was a renegade. People whom it was Dale’s job to catch. He knew little else about his father except what his mother said. She rarely talked of him.
They had moved into the general living area without speaking. Vaden sat looking perplexed at Dale. Dale sat silently, unsure of what to do next. He liked Vaden, but Vaden knew his father, and his father was a renegade. What Dale had learned to hate. Was Vaden a renegade also? That would explain some of the events of the evening, the accident. Was he afraid of being caught? If he was a renegade the deputy would have to find out and act. He would have to be careful. If Vaden was a renegade, he could be dangerous. While the deputy was trying to figure out how to do that, Vaden spoke.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, when did you know him?”
“Long time ago. Before you were born.”
“Are you sure the man you knew was my father?”
“Garn is a pretty rare name, and you look like him. The last time I saw him he married a woman named Margret and just had a son named Marshal.”
“My mother and brother.”
“Guess we are talking about the same guy. Whatever happened to him?”
“He died. I never knew him. He died just after I was born.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. No wonder you acted so strange when I
mentioned him.”
“You said he was a good man, what did you mean?”
“I just meant he was strong. He would stand up for himself and fight his own battles. Not like all this technology where all you have to do is give a command and push a button.”
“Is there something wrong with technology?”
“No, it’s just that your father would have rather done it himself. He distrusted technology. He believed it could be abused and misused for destructive purposes.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Depends on what it’s used for. I think sometimes it’s misused.”
“Do you think I misuse it?”
“I did not say you did. If you are like your dad I would doubt it.”
“I’m not like my father. I didn’t even know him.”
“Even though you didn’t know him, you still remind me a lot of him.”
“How.”
“He was always thoughtful, always thinking about things. Like you are doing. But when he made a decision, he stuck to it and carried it out.”
“You think I’m like that.”
“Yeah I do.”
“What if I agreed.”
“I would say I’d better watch what I do. I would not want you to be tracking me down.”
“Should I be concerned that you have done something that I would have to track you down for?”
“Maybe a long time ago when I was younger and more idealistic. Now I’m just older and more mellow. I don’t think I have anything to fear.”
“How do I know you’re not lying.”
“You will have to trust me. I trust you.”
“I could always access your records and find out.”
“If you want to read about my exploits you could. I can guarantee that they will be rather boring. What I did in the past is nothing like I am today.
“Your father would not do it, he always trusted his instincts and was almost always right. That’s why he was such a good friend.”
“Because he would not check up or because he had good instincts?”
“Because of his good instincts. You always felt safe when he was
around.”
“Only if you were on the same side.”
“Are we not on the same side.”
“I am a member of the Territorial Regulation Organization, my father was a renegade, people who it is my job to capture. You were friends with him, does that make you a renegade too? At least in the past. Whose side are you on now?”
“Why your, do I have you on mine?”
“As long as you’re a good citizen, I am.”
“Then we are agreed.”
Both of them were relieved. Now that that was over they both sat in silence waiting for the other to speak. Dale spoke first. “Tell me about my father?”
“I’m glad you asked. If things were different, he would be a man you could be proud of.”
Vaden seemed anxious to talk. Dale was anxious to listen. As Vaden talked Dale heard new things about his father his mother never talked about. At first Vaden’s expression “if things were different” was confusing, but Dale soon realized that things were different. Had times not changed so much Dale felt he could have been proud of his father, but times were different and Dale’s father was an outlaw.
All this was back in the times when the city was consolidating its power; when the territories were lawless, and Dale had not been born. Just under 30 years now. Both his father and Mitch were renegades. His father had died and Mitch had come to his senses.
When the city government began to organize TROLES and equip it with its developing technology, the people of the territories began to protest, as an infringement on their rights to self-rule. A nasty battle ensued and the city began to wipe out the population of the territories. During the warfare, the surrounding area became so polluted that the air was unbreathable and would not be for a century. His father stood with the territories but was eventually captured and died in a psychiatric prison.
It was because of the selfishness of the people of the territories that the current situation was in such as mess. He believed his father had been wrong. That was in the past.
As they talked time wore on and Vaden’s friend would soon be arriving at the designated place. Vaden made ready to leave.
“Can I drive you back?” Dale asked
“I’ve already bothered you too much. I can walk.”
“Aren’t you afraid about the ASR’s or the skirls. If you’re with me they will not bother you.”
“My SST’s are working fine. I made it here all right. I can make it back.”
“I really don’t like you being out alone and unescorted.”
“It will be alright. Remember I have done this before.”
“Then I will monitor your progress from here, to be sure you are safe.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I insist.”
“If you must.”
“I would feel more comfortable, and it is my duty, to see you are safe.”
Vaden quickly replaced his protective suit and air exchanger. After saying a last goodbye and thank you he disappeared into the night. The movement censers indicated his departure. The first thing you learn when you join TROLES is to be suspicious. As a rule of thumb, if you are in doubt, check it out. With all his technology and advanced equipment, most of which Dale did not understand how they worked, but knew how to use, he could and would check it out. Monitoring Vaden would not be too difficult. All he had to do was patch into the ASRs and dispatch a pair of them to the area and watch. That was what he did.
From Vaden’s call to his friend and his directions to the accident site, Dale could judge the general location, under a kilometer. The roads out here in the territories were laid out in a checkerboard pattern, with roads running into and out of the city even-numbered and those encircling the city odd-numbered. He would send the ASR team up the appropriate road and find him. If he did it now he could even beat Vaden there.
In the command center, Dale watched the monitor of both the ASR units as each approaching the area from different directions. Both were instructed to home in on any signal but neither found one. That was odd anyone not signaling runs the risk of being attacked and eaten by the skirls. They could bite a man in half. Nothing but skirls were picked up on any of the ASR’s movement censors.
Either Vaden was risking an attack or was not in the area. Dale favored the latter. After he was sure Vaden was not where he was supposed to be the deputy expanded his search and instructed the ASR units to apprehend Vaden. The units would fulfill their duty just as the deputy had dreamed. Vaden had tricked him but for what reason? His father may have been strong and have fought his own battles but there was no reason to risk his own life. An hour later the ASRs signaled the deputy. They had carried out their orders. The deputy had bagged himself a renegade.
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