The Pens

BAM!! BAM!! BAM!! 

I wake up with a start. What? I slide my legs over the edge of bed as I sit up.

BAM!! BAM!! BAM!!

Standing up in a huff I grab my housecoat and head for the front door to see who I'm punching in the nose for pounding on MY door like that at what, O230 hours on a Sunday.

BAM! ...

I open the door quickly.

"WHAT?" I bellow at a young Private who is standing there with eyes wide with fear. He snaps a salute which I do not return. He's holding a thermos.

"What's this about Private?"

"Sorry for the early morning wake up Captain but the Commandant ordered me here to bring you to his office. As for what this about I do not know."

Rubbing my chin and cheeks feeling the two day growth I decide that the hour dictates I pass on the shave.

"Five minutes' '

"Yes Captain. I bought coffee for the drive" showing me the container.

I close the door and head for the bedroom.

I can't recall the last time I was called in for an urgent meeting. Nine or ten years I think. The Ice Storm riots. I look toward the open bedroom window and hear no sounds of a Herd stampede.

Tying up my boot lace I started thinking about that riot. The Herd almost had us overrun. The storm froze things up good and during the blackout, the Herd took to the streets.

I reach to rub a smudge off the toe and chuckle to myself. That riot is when boots became illegal for anyone living in the pen districts. Handing out flimsy deck shoes with no support pretty much kept their feet in very poor shape. A brilliant tactic. Keep them weak.

I catch the Private leaning against the support post with his eyes closed as I open my door to leave.

"Let's go!"

The ten minute drive to the base was when I drank two cups of the coffee before driving through the gates. Smart kid. I almost promoted him right then when he said keep it when I went to pass him his thermos back.

I walk into the Commandant's office after a brief tap on his door. Would like to see the Private knock on this door.

He's not alone.

"Reginald!"

"Commandant" I saluted and he did his wave.

He's not militant about military protocol. Especially when it's almost 0300 hours. He has his slippers on.

The other man in the room though, in his mid fifties I'd guess was dressed in a black suit and tie like it was ironed a minute ago. Polished black leather shoes and his hair cut short with the part running straight down the middle. Clean shaven and the waft of his English Leather has permeated the office. Thin and lean looking but it's his ice blue eyes, sharp and focused, that grab your attention. This man was all business.

"Reginald, this is Agent Stevens from the Chancellor of the Interior's office. Agent Stevens, the Captain of the Guard for this pen."

I reach out and we shake hands.

"Agent Stevens is here following a lead on a case he's working on. We are ordered to assist fully and completely in his investigation." He passes me the orders he received and I skim over the two pages.

" Alright Agent, how can I help? The orders do not say what you're investigating"

The agent walks past me, closes the office door and turns back as he's reaching into his jacket inside pocket and pulling out a large sized red envelope with a bright yellow trim.

"Gentlemen, what you're about to hear and read is classified Top Secret Double X. Your oaths to the Empire are to be honoured here. This remains in this room!"

By the end of the briefing I had my orders. Orders I will carry out. I'm not sure if I'm in shock about this or vehemently entertained. The... story Agent Stevens told was for lack of a better word, crazy.

But, I have my orders. Now, who in the Guard can I call to get this done? Needs a rough touch. Corporal Jensen for sure. Big and dumb. Sargent Buel, the Bull. Big and smart. Both will try hard to get answers.

I found the Private sleeping in the hall, gave him a nudge and tossed him his empty thermos.

" You're with me Private until further orders. Fill that and meet me at your car in five!"

He double stepped it towards the kitchen at the end of the hall and I turned and headed for the stairs down to my office.

I retrieve some items I need from my desk and head out to the car. My briefcase is at my house. I need to re-read Intel on this again. Crazy shit.

The Private is in the car when I get there. Grabbed a mug for himself from the kitchen. Smart kid.

"Back to my place to drop me off then you go get some gear from the armoury that I'll requisition before you get there. Then you'll pick me up at 0600."

"Yes Captain" he said sharply then handed me the thermos.

Pushing it back to him,

"That's for you. You're going to need it"

After calling down to the armoury I heated up leftovers and I sat down to read the report while I ate.

There's a group out there, in the wilds between the pens. In the beginning of the NWE it was easiest to round up herds in the big cities on this continent. Suburbs as well. All fenced in pens, twenty to forty miles in diameter.

But the rural areas, that was a massive undertaking by the military which ended with about a ninety percent roundup rate according to the previous census. Thousands still have managed to avoid the pens even after a few decades.

Now they're unified and organized. The word rebels is used often in these pages. Not a word the NWE care to hear much less say.

One of these rebels managed to infiltrate a medical facility near the capital. Not your average place. This place does genetic and biological research and tests. This place has its own pen to experiment on.

While inside he stole documents and some serums of importance. That information is not in this report. Two of five keys were taken as well.These keys unlock certain labs in the bowels of the facility. Unique keying system. All the keys are worn like necklaces and the key itself is made of something just called X. I'm sure it has a name but for this report it's X.

Apparently this rebel has gained access to my pen. Unauthorized access. I run a very tight ship so this news has me agitated to say the least. If there's even the tiniest hole in my ship, I will find it and plug it up.

I make three phone calls and get dressed for the day's events.

I heard about Jensen and Bull about 0945 during a briefing I was having with Agent Stevens. He insisted on coming along.

We arrive on the scene. Scores of Guardsmen going about the entrance of an alley down in the Produce district. I stop and stare at the sight before me.

Blood up and down both sides of the alley stretching from the ground up  close to the second story windows. A lot of blood.

I read the writing on the wall to the left, written in blood " Hope lies in our dreams. May your hopes bring colour to our dreams."

And on the ground just below were the remains of two men. Jensen and Bull dressed to blend in with the Herd.

So much blood. What in hell could do this to them?

Agent Stevens was already stepping past me with his notepad in one hand and a pencil in the other. The grizzly scene didn't even give him pause.

He's seen this before!

A Guardsman approaches me, carrying a red plastic baggy. It's sealed. I take it and read the tag.

"Ripped apart Captain. Limbs have been found and bagged. Disembowell as well. That, pointing to the bag, was found lodged in Corporal Jensen's back shoulder. What's left of it at least."

For a brief moment I thought he was going to throw up and I step back a pace. He continues on with the report.

"Thank you Sargent. Begin canvassing for information. Top priority!"

"Yes Sir!"

I glance around to find the Agent, I have some questions for him. He's elbow deep into the bodies and garbage. I notice he has his own small pile of red bags on the curb with a Private standing watch. I put this one in my overcoat pocket.

An old gut feeling rumbles through my nerves.

By my twentieth birthday I was a full fledged criminal. Met all sorts of " Officers of the Law" Municipal , state, federal, and others during my career and they were more bent than those they put away. My last sentence had me in for thirty years. But, lucky for me, all hell broke loose. Here I am nearing sixty three years old and I'm kicked back decades with a gut feeling.

I need to know more about Agent Stevens.

Sealing up a large red bag, Stevens looks my way and smiles. He points to his pile like a conquered treasure. He begins to write more into his notebook, smiling the whole while. Behind him lie my officers. I look back at him again. His story isn't sounding so crazy now. Something bigger here than a rebel thief.

Yup, he's trouble.

The Private drops the Agent and me off at HQ at 1300 hours. I sent him away for lunch and to report back at 1700.

Stevens heads to his vehicle and I head to my office.

"Agent Stevens! I am expecting to give you my report at 0800 in the Commandant's office. I look forward to reading yours. Good night" I turn and proceed through the main entrance doors.

My department heads report to me by mid afternoon on the alley scene.

I'll read it after. I need to call in a favour, maybe two. I want to know more about our Agent of the Office of Interior. I know they have a few branches of service there and most likely some I don't know about. I make the call and ask my questions. Now I wait.

I start reading the alley reports. I grab the coroner's report first. Conclusion is the both men had their throats slashed out - unknown weapon type, which accounts for the high blood spray from the victims. Death was instant for both. The mutilations were done post mortem. The strength needed for this is scary.

A claw or elongated finger nail was found in the back of a victim. Snapped off in the carnage. I sit up in my chair as I read that the nail is 5 inches long. Still running tests to determine what it's from.

  What is going on here?

A thief broke into a sensitive medical facility and stole some documents, serums, and a couple high level security keys. Then the thief comes here. How long has he been here? I really need to find that hole in my ship! Find the hole, find the thief. Start there in the morning with the few of the herd I know. They'll be pleased to see me.

But that's after I have a tete a tete with the Agent. I need those answers from the Capital.

I sit back and look at the rest of the reports. I think of the alley.

"Hope lies in our dreams. May your hopes bring colour to our dreams."

I don't like the sounds of that.