“To be honest, Mr. Ralss, I’m not optimistic,” Rocke’s lawyer was a bookish man with thinning hair. He didn’t seem like much, but his eyes were alert and intelligent. “I know Prosecutor Laramie. She won’t go easy on you. She’s planning to label you as an unpatriotic citizen who killed an upstanding member of society to defend a known traitor. And Mr. Daliven’s religious practices are not popular.”
“I know,” Rocke mumbled, resigned. He doubted he’d get any strong character witnesses, either. His name had become mud to the greater UOP society. “Thanks for your help, anyway, Durren.”
“This might go easier if you accept a plea deal.”
“No. What I did wasn’t wrong.” As he explained to his father, Rocke wouldn’t be shamed for doing what’s right. He’d prove to everyone it was right to defend a helpless person.
But this earned a genuine smile from his attorney. “Then that’s what we’ll do. It won’t be easy, but I have your back.”
“I’m surprised you’re so willing to help me,” Rocke replied, grateful but surprised.
“My boy, it’s my job to defend people and ensure they get treated fairly under the law. Our system is cold and cruel. Sometimes, even being a Demon is enough to condemn you. Someone has to fight for people who can’t defend themselves, even if it’s futile.”
Rocke gave his lawyer a firm handshake as they parted ways. It was nice to know at least someone cared about justice. He joined his guard and returned to his private cell, little more than a concrete box with a toilet, sink, and a mattress. He’d lost his street clothes too, replaced with a black-and-white striped jumper. Rocke sat on his bed, hands clasped, waiting for supper time. He had little else to do.
“You have a visitor,” a guard said, surprising Rocke. Who could that be? In the week since his incarceration, nobody had bothered visiting him. His father’s disownment had barred any chance it’d be his family.
Was it Marsh? Had he manned up to offer an apology? He’d overheard Rolf mentioning he’d snitched when pressured. While angry with his former friend, the spineless betrayal hadn’t really surprised Rocke.
“You.” Rocke stared dumbfounded at the red-headed beauty sitting across from him between a thick pane of glass.
“Hello, Rocke,” his ex-girlfriend, Jafia, said, hands clasped across her lap. Her features were lovely as ever, with a button nose and freckles that created cute splotches across her cheeks. Contrasting her adorable features was her usual frosty, neutral expression. To Rocke, she seemed like a flawless sculpture made of ice. It’s what attracted him to her in the first place.
“How have you been?” Rocke asked awkwardly. She was the last person he’d expected to see again, especially here. A million questions rushing through his head.
“The usual. The Defense Department offered me a job. They’re impressed with my grades. It’s low-level stuff right now, mostly secretarial. But they are optimistic about a possible future position as an assistant to one of the Minister’s staff.”
“That’s great!” Jafia was brilliant when it came to organization. She effortlessly organized any mess into a practical solution. “I’m glad to see you again,” Rocke said with a sad smile. “You’re the first person to visit me besides my father.”
“I suppose that’s not surprising. There are plenty of rumors about you at our college. Some say you’ve become a religious fanatic.”
“That figures. But why are you here? After our breakup, I thought I’d never see you again.” Rocke fidgeted. Their breakup had been so sudden. She’d told him they weren’t compatible and left it at that. It’d crushed him. Rocke had assumed she thought him boring and wanted to move on to someone more interesting.
Jafia gave him a disappointed frown. “Rocke, we might not be together, but I still care about you. Besides, I had to come. I want to hear what happened that night from your own lips. The media tells one story, rumor says another. I want to hear your story, Rocke.”
“Well.” Rocke did his best to recount the events. Jafia listened in silence, absorbing his story like a sponge.
“I thought so,” Jafia replied, ice entering her voice. “I never liked that Joven guy.”
“Um, you’re taking this very well. I just admitted to killing someone to defend what many people call a traitor to our country.”
“‘Traitor’ is all a matter of perspective,” Jafia said philosophically. “And your parents are literally hanging you out to dry.”
“Yep.”
Jafia muttered some unladylike words under her breath, with a vitriol that surprised Rocke. Her eyes hardened. “Such is the state of the UOP.”
Rocke stared at his ex, somewhat mesmerized. He’d never seen this side of Jafia before. But it also reminded him why he’d asked out this frosty, coldly smart girl out in the first place. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, Jafia had fascinated him.
“I’m proud of you, Rocke, even if no one else is,” Jafia said. “You’ve grown, I think. I noticed you seemed different since I last saw you.”
“I’ve had to grow up,” Rocke replied, his smile sad. “Hell of a way for it to happen, but I think I needed it.”
His ex’s expression was unreadable, but he sensed the calculation behind it. She pressed a hand against the glass. “You aren’t alone, okay? We’re getting through this.”
Rocke matched the gesture. “Thank you, Jafia. You’re a good friend.” He sniffed, overcome with emotion. He realized they shared something he couldn’t quantify. Was it romantic? Familial? Rocke couldn’t tell. Whatever the case, it was nice to know he wasn’t alone.
“Well, visiting time is up,” Jafia said in her usual businesslike fashion. “I’ll come again soon.”
“Okay, I look forward to it.” A sudden realization struck Rocke. “Wait, should you even be talking to me? I doubt your bosses in the Defense Ministry would approve of you talking to riffraff like me.”
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“Don’t worry about it. I doubt it will matter.” With this cryptic comment, Jafia left.
“Okay?” Rocke scratched his head and shrugged. Jafia knew what she was doing. There was a skip in Rocke’s step as he returned to his cell. Despite the bleakness of his situation, some hope had blossomed in his heart.
---
“Judgment is upon us. If the UOP doesn’t soon repent, it will face the Sovereign’s wrath. Our Lord is kind and patient, but not forever. He has seen your hard and cruel hearts and won’t restrain His anger any longer. But the Sovereign is merciful. If you repent, all is forgiven. His love will erase all your sins, no matter their depths, and they will be forgotten and sanctified.”
But, of course, no one paid the holy man’s words any attention. People passed the man trying to save their souls with nary a glance. It made Kallane wonder why Matthias even bothered trying to help these unworthy souls, and told him as much when they met up.
“Because the Sovereign loves all in his creation. He knows the number of every hair on their heads. Do you think this impending judgment pleases Him? He’d rather they repent than punish them. Like disobedient children, they need the rod to see the errors of their ways.”
“I suppose,” Kallane felt somewhat guilty for her harsh words. But she couldn’t help it. Since they invaded her land three hundred years ago, the UOP had abused and exploited her people. They claimed it was to give her tribal people much-needed enlightenment and technological advancement. But as for the Ottomon getting any benefit from either, she hadn’t seen it.
“Anyway, Rocke’s trial is next week,” Kallane said, getting to the point.
“Really?” Matthias raised an eyebrow. “That’s quick. It’s been, what, two weeks since his arrest? I was expecting it to take at least a month.”
“The prosecutor Laramie is expediting the case. Joven came from a powerful family. They are using their connections to make sure Rocke gets everything they think he deserves, including execution.”
“I see,” Matthias said, troubled, and shook his head. “Rocke has made some powerful enemies. Pity they don’t realize Rocke has more powerful allies on his side.”
“Mom says we’ll be able to move soon,” Kallane said. “She’s already got a distraction ready for when we move in.”
“Hmm.” Matthias stroked his chin. “Nothing too exciting, I hope. I don’t want innocents caught up in this.”
“Give my mom more credit! She says we’ll be ready to move tomorrow night. The rest is in the Noble One’s hands.”
“May the Sovereign guide our path,” Matthias replied.
Anxiety bubbling in Kallane chest. So much could go wrong. While the Mighty One was indeed behind them, that wasn’t a guarantee some evil wouldn’t befall them. They’d have to trust everything would work according to His plans.
---
“Yeah, you should’ve seen her—muscles the size of tree trunks! But her face? A mule is prettier!” The man sitting across from Rocke laughed, gesturing with his fork. The eating area bustled with people, some chatting with fellow inmates, others keeping to themselves. Still, the crowd kept their distance from certain characters.
“And you married her?” Rocke asked with a grin.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” the heavyset man sitting across from Rocke bellowed a hearty laugh.
Despite Rocke’s initial fear, he’d built a rapport with some other inmates. He kept his expression calm and confident, ensuring he didn’t become prey to the crueler members of the detention area. It was good practice for the real prison, should his situation turn against him. Rocke was determined to fight his battle to the end, but he wasn’t naïve enough to bet on such long odds. In three days, he’d face the legal system’s full wrath.
He chuckled as they sipped slop that even a pig would turn its snout up at. Stern, his table mate, was fun to talk to—jovial despite the harsh reality of their situation. Like Rocke, Stern had gotten on the wrong side of the UOP’s wrath. He’d spoken of one too many things they didn’t like. The UOP often held him weeks longer than necessary on minor charges, but he refused to be intimidated. Stern had quite the reputation.
And his situation wasn’t uncommon. When the Vladus police didn’t like someone, they made their displeasure known. A bell rang, signaling lunch’s end. The guards stood in place, armed with stun batons—staffs with lightning prods that delivered thousands of volts. From experience, Rocke knew the guards weren’t shy about using them.
“Excuse me,” Rocke muttered as he accidentally bumped into someone while getting in line. He tensed as the man growled in response, not making any sudden movements. The tense moment passed, and the wild-eyed man moved on.
“I’d be careful with that one, Rocke,” Stern warned. “That’s Nitao Hiancaing. They say it took six officers to subdue him. Real animal, that one.”
“Hiancaing? That’s a Konquell name, right?” Rocke mused.
Stern nodded. “Not sure why he’s out here. Konquell folk are usually quiet.”
Protected by mountains, the Konquell people typically avoided the outside world. But their lands were rich in precious metals, making them natural enemies of the UOP. Their isolationism, however, had left them technologically behind. The last war, three years ago, hadn’t gone well for them.
“I’ll keep my distance,” Rocke said. He returned to the daily grind, focusing on basic exercises to pass the time. Thanks to tips from fellow inmates, he was improving. Another uneventful day awaited.
---
“All clear?” Dallas asked.
The night was chilly, with fog creeping in and making visibility difficult. Luckily, they had the technology to bypass it. Kallane clicked a button on her headset, and the screen turned red, revealing every heat signature in the area. It wasn’t difficult to spot the surveillance system. Even the guards, visible as white sentinels, stood outlined through the walls.
“Nice gadget, Dallas,” Kallane said, lifting the visor and gesturing toward the locations of the cameras and guards.
Under the cover of fog, the group crept closer. Luck was on their side—the thick mist cloaked their presence well.
The Vladus police station loomed ahead, a massive fortress-like building. It housed not only the police department’s administrative offices but also a small detention facility. Overcrowded jails had necessitated its expansion a few years ago. It symbolized everything oppressive about the UOP to Kallane.
“You sure pick ‘em, Dal,” said the man standing behind her, amused.
The new addition to their team was gaunt, his skin too tight for his skeleton. His high cheekbones and Ottomon tattoos gave him the appearance of a ghast from a legend. Despite his unsettling appearance, his face radiated warmth and cheer.
“Can’t be helped. Jamar, can you get us inside? We can’t exactly ring the doorbell,” Dallas said, crossing his arms.
“Be patient. It needs time to warm up. But I warn you, there’s some risk involved.” Jamar replied.
He had gone over the dangers earlier, and Kallane wasn’t optimistic about his plan’s chances of success. The station’s defenses were formidable. Kallane eyed the turrets swiveling around the perimeter—they would reduce anyone foolish enough to try an assault into a pile of ash. Patrol robots roamed the halls, mounted with the same guns. The building held scores of active guards, each relentless in their attempt to maintain order. The facility was enormous, five stories tall and spanning an entire city block.
“The police might have the most advanced security and combat robots known to man, but they don’t possess my brilliance or gumption!” Jamar grinned, his smile transforming into a grimace. “Fair warning, though—this might count as a terrorist attack.”
“We’re ready. Just do it already!” Kallane said, scowling to hide her nervousness. Despite their precautions, people would get hurt.
“I’ve scanned the building’s plans many times. There’s one weakness they’ve overlooked!” Jamar cackled as he pressed the button.
---
“And the mayor is asking if you wish to attend a fundraiser for needy orphans this weekend. He says the appearance of the police chief would show the public the strength and unity of both offices,” Phú said, reading from a list.
“I bet he does,” Rolf replied, tapping his fingers against his desk. “Tell him I have an out-of-town trip that weekend. I can’t attend.”
“Sure thing, sir!” Phú answered cheerfully. “Anything else? Ready to wrap up for tonight?”
“I’m getting out of here,” Rolf said, stretching as he stood.
The day had dragged on long enough. Due to a sudden outbreak of petty crimes, he’d gotten buried in paperwork all day. Despite needing to return early in the morning, he eagerly anticipated some sleep. His office reflected his personality—bold and organized, with everything in its proper place for easy access.
“One last thing. I want an update on Demon activity tomorrow morning,” Rolf said. Though Matthias had kept his word, his pet Demons were still restless. They’d been quiet, but that only made Rolf more uneasy. His instincts told him they were planning something. And Rolf wasn’t alone in fearing a possible Demon strike on Matthias’s prophesied day. The mayor insisted on his vigilance for any potential trouble.
“Sure thi...” Phú’s voice cut off as the office plunged into darkness. Rolf fumbled for a moment as his eyes adjusted.
“What the—?” Where were the emergency lights? Looking outside, Rolf saw the entire block had gone dark, although thick fog made it difficult to tell. He pulled out his phone, but it wouldn’t turn on. Even his watch had stopped.
“EMP,” he muttered. That had to be the explanation. Someone had set off an EMP, frying all electronics within range. What a hassle—it meant the building’s circuitry would need to be replaced. The city council wouldn’t be happy about the cost.
“But why here?” Could it be Matthias trying to rescue the boy? Did he have the resources to attempt such a thing? Regardless, it seemed likely someone was attempting an attack on the station.
“Brave, but foolish,” Rolf growled. While he’d gotten caught off-guard, he wouldn’t allow it to stand.
Fortunately for Rolf, the station stored chemical lights for emergencies like this. And EMPs didn’t affect good old-fashioned firearms. Sixteen officers were still on duty, even at this late hour. Rolf would gather them, then crush any attack, and deal with any potential escapees. Though the cell locks worked without power, some prisoners might still try escaping.
No matter. These attackers would learn that disrupting his peace was a grave mistake. If Matthias was behind this, he wouldn’t leave the building alive, potential riots or not.