“Tell us Mrs Hardridge, who did you see before the explosion?”
“I don’t see the need to explain myself once again.”
“Well because some of the thick-headed seat warmers in this room need it spelt out to them!”
“Prime Minister! Hold your tongue!”
“Oh, shut up! Evalyn!”
Evalyn looked between the Sidosian Prime Minister and the rest of her council. She felt like she was observing a particularly dicey family fallout. A nuclear cabinet was never as smooth as the government wanted you to believe.
“Grey coats. I don’t know if they were Police Officers or S.H.I.A., but it’s safe to assume that the distinction between them isn’t very significant.”
Evalyn’s podium was a degrading one. She stood on the wooden stand, flanked, and faced by a colosseum of politicians. The Lower House was in complete disarray as the threat of war finally dawned on them. Often, those who made the biggest decisions were the most divorced from reality, and this was no exception. With only a few hours of rough sleep under her belt, recovery had not been a real option for her.
“There is no basis for such a claim. Police were stationed at the event as previously organised! To say they were responsible is outlandish without further evidence to the claim.”
A bout of jeering from the opposition backed up its leader, which however failed to deter the Prime Minister from her ceaseless march forward. It failed most likely as a result of its lacking members. An opposition’s role was to oppose the ruling, yet the jeering party only held a vast minority of the consortium’s seats.
Their presence was but a mere formality.
“Every single S.H.I.A. hideout the Federal Police raided has had a Police uniform stashed somewhere. Sometimes not even stashed! Out in the open! Even if you could argue that the bombing wasn’t their doing, the fact that the Metropolitan Police is riddled with their members already tells us enough.”
Evalyn waited in silence for her name to be called again. Even if she had the option of leaving, the tension would have probably bound her in place. This time, however, it was the opposition that called upon her.
“I believe that you were at the blast site, ma’am?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Then please enlighten me on any peculiar details, especially if it pertains to the kind of bomb that was used.”
The opposition leader was simply being smug. Without her saying, everyone in the room already knew of the rumour, and Evalyn figured that the S.H.I.A. informants had already seen to that. Even if none of the members were sympathetic to S.H.I.A., their views nonetheless overlapped, and so too did their interest in such a rumour. There was no point in trying to feign ignorance; the entire court was expecting the same answer.
“The truck had been blown apart similarly to regular car bombs, however, the flaming diesel was…peculiar. Diesel in a quiet engine does not create flammable fumes in this weather, yet the engine ignited. The bomb somehow created enough heat to ignite diesel.”
“What is your hypothesis on how the bomb may have done that?”
“Not by human means.”
The opposition smiled.
“In clearer terms please, for all the… thick-headed seat warmers in the room.”
“Aether. It was an Aether bomb.”
With the clicking of a typewriter’s keys, the rumour had gained a documented legitimacy.
“Prime Minister, in this congressional that you so unashamedly, so pretentiously hold in your favour by underrepresenting parts of our nation, you cannot, by the law of common decency, deny the facts presented in front of you! This action you propose is simply a return to the iron claw the military used to keep on this nation. You continue to ignore the pleas of the outer regions and treat the capital as your own personal project!”
The opposition leader turned to his crowd and back, rallying support as they reached a climax of sound, resentment and frustration pouring over the barricade.
“We shall not see a return to General Hardridge’s regime! You are nothing but his reincarnation under a different cloak of misguided morals and skin-deep commitment to your people!”
The entire assembly erupted. From all sides, a cacophony filled the soundscape. Every pitch, every volume, every direction. Sound, intense sounds of jeering, booing, and shouting was all Evalyn could experience until the repeated and feverish striking of a gavel finally quietened the stage.
“A vote will be called!” announced the speaker. “All in favour of opposing martial law on the capital under the rule of the Federal Government, make yourself known.”
A show of hands extended from one side of the room to the other. A show of hands which displayed the degree of unanimity amongst the members. A show of hands that would make no logical sense in a functioning democracy. Evalyn Hardridge had, for the first time, seen the process in which an authoritarian government was seeded and bloomed. To think she and possibly even her family were in the hands of such people terrified her.
“So, it is decided! Martial law shall be imposed on the City of Sidos by the tenth hour on the morrow and will remain indefinite until further discussion.”
The court was adjourned in another eruption of jeering. Evalyn, long sick of it attempted to rush out of sight as smoothly as she could but was stopped by the Prime Minister’s lasso-like glare. Evalyn sighed internally and remapped her course. Frankly, she wished her legs would give out from under her, preferably next to a soft bed. However, her years of training had backfired, they had at least one more painful meeting left in them.
“My counterparts tell me that you’re to return as soon as possible to Excala.”
“The bombings must have spooked them.”
The two walked down a cramped hallway, four security guards covering their every corner, or rather the Prime Minister's every corner. With no windows and barely any ventilation, it was like the staff-only access areas of a stadium. An offshoot of the Parliament, this is where all the seedier happenings, dealings and operations took place. One guard opened an office door to an equally cramped room.
A set of folding chairs around an off-balance metal table was the only décor that the space was allowed. The aesthetic was not a priority, yet the purely business-like look only made the sour-faced Evalyn’s mood worse.
“I understand their feelings, and I have no right to keep you here.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Excellent observation.”
“…However, I’d still like to request you stay for one last thing. How does sound?”
Evalyn had had enough of public safety work for the rest of the year, yet it was true she was still planning on investigating the piece of evidence in her possession. She swivelled one of the rickety chairs ninety degrees and sat down, propping her legs up on another.
“Hit me. I’ll decide afterwards.”
The Prime Minister sat down at the head of the table, back straight and hands clasped as if she was a salesman giving the pitch of her life. If only she worked on her smile, Evalyn thought. If she came off as too confident, she’d alienate her demographic.
“We’re planning on making our move under martial law,” Fault explained as Evalyn played with her thoughts as if they were putty. “Once the military arrives, we have free reign to arrest anyone we deem suspicious. That will include the leader of S.H.I.A.’s political wing.”
Evalyn’s putty brain, by some grace of the devil, began to snap. Between the stress, loneliness, death, and daftness of her situation, she began to let herself go as the slop between her mind’s fingers began to stretch further and further. She chuckled.
“Take this from Hardridge’s daughter, you make me oh so fucking nostalgic for daddy when you talk like that. The man didn’t invent it, but he certainly took arresting political opponents to the next level. Compared to him, this is pretty amateur.”
The Prime Minister was taken aback, yet Evalyn kept going as her feet came off the chair. She moved down a spot, closer to Fault.
“Take this from a Witch, I have seen every damn form of man and Spirit do what you’re trying to do and trust me, it never worked out. If your forceful policies were the things that got you here in the first place, complete authority isn’t going to reverse the trend, it’s going to send you off the edge of the cliff. We tried to force Spirit-Human cohabitation down Sidos’s throat before the war and it did nothing! Nothing to stop it!”
“Mrs Hardridge, please—”
“Take this from me, with the stuff I’ve seen all over the continent, over thirty, thirty different countries, conflict is the one language every damn one speaks. The harder you stamp it down, the harder it’s going to blow up in your face. Take this from me, I will watch this whole world burn if I have to; that’s my dedication. If yours isn’t anywhere close to mine, then I suggest you quit now.”
For an agonising fifteen seconds, the room was silent, save for the buzzing electric lightbulb above their heads. Evalyn’s mind cleared as a form of clarity returned to her. She realised what she had just done but could not find the opportunity to even start taking it back, even in form only.
“I’ll…take that into consideration.”
Evalyn sighed, amply relieved of some stress. “You’d better.”
Evalyn’s boots hit the wet pavement with a muted clack as she lifted herself out of the car. A suited man closed the door behind her before returning to the driver’s seat. The window was wound down and the Prime Minister gestured from inside.
“Report back to me as soon as you’re done. By tonight the raid will have been over.”
“Do I get to listen in on comms?”
“If you so wish. Would be easier than having to call you if something goes wrong.”
“If someone called me every time something went wrong, I’d have at least a few temples in my honour.”
“We cannot risk this, so we hope you understand.”
Evalyn nodded dismissively as Fault’s window once again shrouded her face. She was left only a few steps from the building’s entrance. A modest office building a few floors tall fronted an equally modest warehouse. Boring, geometric shapes welded together with concrete and plaster. If its address hadn’t been present at the last hideout she had investigated, it would have utterly blended into the background.
She pushed through the revolving door and emerged into the small lobby to be greeted by a small receptionist. Her black hair waved down into a bob-cut that sat neatly above her chin line and her eyes welcomed Evalyn warmly from just under her straight fringe.
“Hello, how are you?”
Evalyn hesitated. Ordinarily, she would introduce herself, but the speech in parliament where her father’s name had sullied the debate was still fresh in the front of her mind. Only recently remembering something so obvious made her frustrated. Her last name carried weight.
“Hi, my name is Evalyn Maxwell I’m here on behalf of the Sidos Federal Police department and—”
“The stolen trucks?”
“…excuse me?”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry! It’s just that everyone’s been on edge recently. One of our delivery trucks has been stolen,” she said, awkwardly giggling.
“And you didn’t report this to the authorities?”
“We tried to, yet because of the recent event, we haven’t been able to get a hold of anyone for any meaningful amount of time.”
Although it was true the police were lacking in manpower, the delay in any sort of help was likely due to duties still swapping from the Metropolitan Police force to the Federal, and by extension the Army. The police the people of Harman Food Co. were calling were just as much police officers as they themselves were, and there was not much of a chance for investigations happening soon.
Perhaps it was just because of recent events, but her mind immediately snapped back to S.H.I.A. The timing was too perfect.
“Did they at least register your case?”
“I believe so?”
“Then there’s a chance they’re at least logging them…maybe this isn’t the only one….”
“Sorry?”
Evalyn snapped back to the receptionist. “Sorry, just talking to myself. May I ask for more detail? For example, what kind of truck was it, what was it delivering…”
The receptionist sat back down at her desk and rummaged through the miscellaneous documents, logbooks, and notes until she found a singular sheet of paper.
“I’ve written it down in case someone such as yourself came by. It is a Rivester F350, medium size truck, ID number one three five four nine nine seven two five. State registration FRWTCK. We have shared this information with all our bulk order clients in case it shows up elsewhere.”
“Where do you deliver? Where are these clients?”
The receptionist scanned over her desk and picked up a thin black logbook from under a pile of paper. About to hand it to Evalyn, she hesitated.
“This has information regarding our clients. I’m unsure if I’m allowed to hand it to you without a warrant.”
Evalyn cussed under her breath. She reached into her coat and pulled out all the documents she had on her. “If you don’t believe me after this then I’m not sure what will. We can keep this off the books if that’s what it takes. After all, it’s me who’s going to take the fall. This is important. I don’t want more lives to be lost.”
“Lives?!”
“Yes, lives. For now, it’s nothing but a coincidence, but you need to help me here. Please.”
The receptionist averted Evalyn’s eyes, unable to take the image of such an intimidating-looking woman pleading. If anything, that only confirmed the direness of the situation. Reluctantly, she handed it over.
Evalyn thanked her as she took it, wasting no time in opening it and flipping through its pages. Each page held a history of bulk-order deliveries, with many clients repeating. She focused on those, looking for the obvious target of an attack.
Salan Court. Evalyn couldn’t recall a Salan Court hotel in Sidos.
“Do you know where this is?” she asked the receptionist, pointing at the order. She squinted as she read the address.
“That’s in Excala, is it not? You can tell by the naming sense of the street.”
“Do you have any other deliveries to Excala?”
“No, they’re our only client there.”
“Is apparently what she said. I know it’s just a hunch, but the coincidence is too good to be true. We can at least investigate it,” she said to the Prime Minister, sitting on the other side of the desk, furnished for a king. The office was large, with the area occupied by said desk only being a fraction of it. An ambitious aerial depiction of the city as a diorama stood in the centre, with coffee tables, carpets, chairs, wall spanning bookcases all radiating outwards from it. It reminded her of her Father’s former office, only a few doors down.
“We can look into it, yet I hope answers can be found before it’s too late. If what you say is indeed true, the trucks are long gone. Probably used to transport troops…or the H.O.A…tell me more about this Salan Court.”
“I had no idea what it was called until recently, but I walk past it sometimes. It’s an old aristocratic mansion refurbished into a hotel. There are usually quite a few people coming in and out whenever I’m going past it.
“We’ll add that as another parameter in the search, yet until anything is proven, I doubt Salan court let alone Excala’s leadership will take it seriously.”
“What makes you say that?”
The Prime Minister was taken aback, unsure how to answer. “Oh, sorry for making assumptions, yet I sometimes wonder if the only reason any aggressively defensive policy is passed there is all thanks to the Queen’s strong-arming. I mean, apart from recalling you, what have they done?”
Evalyn’s face soured precisely because she was correct. Years of peace made bureaucrats soft, and after ten years of a return to it, fate must have felt the need for another wake-up call.
“I’ll see what I can do. Special Operations Command doesn’t have all the power in the world, but their word carries weight.
With a polite knock on the door, a group of suited men entered the room, one holding a large radio. Each found a different spot in the room to sit, cross their legs and pause. The man holding the radio was significantly younger, and once he had set it up, he immediately left the room.
A soft whirring was all that anyone in the room could hear as the radio channel lay empty. The ticking of the Prime Minister’s wristwatch counted down the seconds to 11:59, and in moments, a new day was born. A day that brought peeking sunlight, sleeping children and a decree of Martial law.
“Crimson team, beginning breach.”
“Aqua team, orders confirmed.”