Ex Lacrima Remnant
Track #37 – The Will of the People
“No, sir, I can’t put you in touch with Prime Minister Herz, he’s inside the seedship. Comms are shielded from the outside and…”
“…how does the bloody PV broadcast work, then?”
“There’s an external repeater wired to the internal cameras, sir.”
“Okay, fine. Put me in touch with anyone closer to Herz in the chain of command. It’s a bloody red five.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Even what you can’t. It’s a question of national security!”
“I’ll pass the message. Please, stay on the line.”
A beep. The call was paused. Epsilon Fourteen rolled her eyes under her standard-issue Peacekeeper helmet. That conversation had been surreal, so far. A major national emergency, right during the celebrations for the Turn of the Millennium? And the alarm came from Atropos, that space junkyard that never managed to justify its own existence? It had to be a prank, of epic proportions too. Epsilon Fourteen was just unlucky enough to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time. The Barricade outpost, to which she was assigned, was the central knot for all communications coming from outside the celebration area, acting as the main point of entry and dispatching. From there, messages were meant to be forwarded to the inner rings, up to the outskirts of the seedship. So, yeah, wrong place, wrong time. Literally. Epsilon Fourteen shook her head. It had to be a joke, something that the poor sods stuck on that orbital failure had to be concocting for days, waiting for the right moment to get their meaningless and empty revenge on the higher-ups that shoved them up there. Still, there was a chance, even if remote, that the call was indeed legitimate. That guy on the other side surely quacked like Station Commander Vettor Geiger from the NNSF and his voice was verified by the system. Geiger didn’t strike her as someone who would abuse his position to trigger a massive alarm, but ten years on a career dead end like Atropos changed people. So, she looked around, trying to figure out what to do next. The Barricade hosted a bunch of civilian operators, protected and coordinated by Military Unit Nine – an unhealthy mix of rookie conscripts from several different precincts around New Netherlands. All of them were moving like hyperactive ants on drugs under the command of a more experienced rhizome from the central precinct, one that looked a little like the Mist class that was stationed in her city, except way overgrown. Her neck roots, arranged like a scarf of sorts, almost touched the ground. One of her feet was a shapeless mass of vines. And, maybe more evidently, her right eye was not an eye – it was a flower, a white lily. That made her look ‘wrong’, an oddity among oddities. Said oddity was staring at the massive profile of the seedship peeking at them from the distance in all of its gigantic size. The vast emptiness between the Barricade and the ship was consumed, devoured by endless tidal waves of people – people of all ages, genders, skin colors, cultural backgrounds, coming from all known corners of Lagash. Epsilon Fourteen felt bad about interrupting that contemplation, but leaving a guy like Geiger waiting felt like a move that could have her sent to Atropos too. So, reluctantly, she shouted at her commander, waving her hand at her too for a good measure.
“Commander Oleander, I have a comm from Atropos.”
“Priority?”
“Red five.”
Oleander turned around immediately, grabbed the device from Epsilon Fourteen’s hand, ripped it off without even asking.
“Deputy Captain Commander Oleander of the Peacekeeping Corps, in charge of the Barricade Security Perimeter. Who am I talking with?”
“Station Commander Vettor Geiger, NNSF.”
Oleander glanced at the communication device. The led turned green, a picture of a human male appeared under the display.
“Identity confirmed. What’s the matter, Commander Geiger?”
“The celebrations for the Turn inside the seedship are compromised. We have circumstantial evidence that links two individuals to a possible terror attack.”
Oleander’s fingers clenched around the receiver.
“Which individuals?”
“This channel is secured, right?”
“Yes, the comm enabled end-to-end encryption as soon as you mentioned red five. Nobody else can listen to us. Not even the dispatching control center.”
“Good.”
A moment of silence. Oleander could feel the weight in Geiger’s words, a man in a position that didn’t feel like his to fill.
“I hereby require you to put Dr. Graham Zonta and Captain Commander Lily of the central precinct rhizome unit under arrest, effective now.”
Oleander’s heart sunk, skipped a beat. She kept the receiver close to her ear, closed her eye. Her lily basked in the chilly wind of the night, in the show of lights that brightened the horizon.
“Commander Oleander?”
“Are you asking me to put Dr. Zonta under arrest?”
“Yes. Him and Captain Commander Lily.”
“What is your evidence?”
“I’ll submit it to the central office of Prime Minister Herz after the celebrations. I’m taking full responsibility for this. In case this is a mistake, I’ll pay my dues.”
“Understood.”
Oleander glanced around. Epsilon Fourteen was still there, staring at her from under her helmet. She couldn’t have listened to everything… or could she? That was something she had to ascertain, but, before…
“I confirm I have received the order to apprehend the subject in question. I will dispatch it to the inner ring security immediately.”
“Subjects. Both of them.”
“Of course, Commander Geiger. It was just a slip of my tongue.”
“Good to know. Godspeed, Commander Oleander. Geiger over and out.”
The LEDs switched off, the receiver fell silent. Oleander turned towards her underling, gazed at her with her only surviving eye.
“Epsilon Fourteen, what information have you been given by Station Commander Geiger?”
Epsilon Fourteen shrugged, crossed her arms.
“Nothing, really. Just that there’s an emergency.”
“…but you’ve heard what he told me, right?”
“…”
“Epsilon Fourteen?”
“Only what you said to him, Commander. I couldn’t make out his words, from this far. B… but I swear, I haven’t eavesdropped! I just… I just heard the name of Dr. Zonta and…”
Oleander nodded, wore a grave expression.
“Put me in touch with the comm officer of the last Security Perimeter. While I call them, share this order with all the members of our unit…”
The corner of her mouth lifted up, painting a satisfied grimace on her face.
“…from this moment, Dr. Graham Zonta is under suspicion of high treason. Arrest him on sight. Use of violence approved if he tries to resist. Don’t let him talk his way out.”
Epsilon Fourteen performed a military salute, slammed her foot against the concrete floor of the Barricade’s top platform.
“Understood, sir!”
Oleander watched her running away, before turning her attention to the communication device. A close call. That was a close call. Fortunately, all the pieces were already in place, the chessboard was completely filled. The right people, at the right place, at the right time. Oleander snapped her fingers, right in front of the Peacekeeper’s visor.
“Oh, and block all communications from the outside too.”
Epsilon Fourteen stopped for an instant, tilted her head.
“Sir…?”
Oleander glanced at her, with something akin to a twisted smile.
“We are in a state of emergency. Switch off the relay, keep only internal comms alive. The future of Lagash depends on this operation. We can’t let any external inference ruin it.”
She patted the helmet, following its profile with her fingers.
“Got it?”
Epsilon Fourteen slammed her foot on the ground again, raised her hand in a salute.
“Aye aye, sir!”
“Good.”
Oleander turned around, turned to face Lagash. The seedship towered in the night, among the stars that were slowly dotting the sky.
“Let’s get this party started.”
**
Muriel van Perens kept looking at her watch. Half an hour to go, half an hour to the Turn. After Zonta’s tasteless intervention, there had been no additional itches in her plans. It had been peaceful, if anything – almost too peaceful, with no communications of sorts from the outer rings. Which meant that the security perimeter Captain Commander Lily organized worked flawlessly. She liked that plant woman, at least a bit. Impressively effective, no nonsense and hated Zonta almost as much as her. The crowd of people flooding the flight deck looked at peace too. Everyone seemed satisfied by the program, including that old Eastcol bastard of Grigorji Shao, Ilena Selene, the young prime minister of Neon, and even President Narendra Gerwin from the Pangean Union. Everywhere stood a parade of applauses and smiles. Of course, because the vault was for everyone, not just for New Netherlands. Not for lack of trying, she had to admit, but it was either share or be completely deleted from the world map. Unsurprisingly, Lagash hinged on a state of forever war, kept at bay only by the massive stashes of biological weapons each nation hid somewhere in their territory. So, despite the deepest desires of generations of New Netherlands prime ministers, nobody could keep the vault technology for themselves, not even the person currently speaking in front of the starry-eyed crowd. She glanced at the podium. Vijlkram Herz was going through his triumphant speech, a speech devoid of content, just a mockery of the words of Anthony Yarramundi, turned hollow by his absolute lack of charm. He could act like Yarramundi and look like Yarramundi, but he was no Yarramundi. Still, Vijlkram Herz was a useful idiot, one that racked up metric tons of votes just by breathing. So, when he finally slammed his hand on the desk and waved his other hand in the air in a somewhat enthusiastic fashion, everyone else couldn’t help but applaud.
“Thank you, thank you. Now, I’ll leave the last thirty minutes to you, leaders of the united world of Lagash. I’d like each of you to say a short sentence, in front of the cameras, to preserve this historical moment and your thoughts forever – because today… today we’re etching a new page in the long history of our home! Long live Lagash!”
He raised his closed fist over his head, causing a standing ovation in the one thousand or so people gathered before the vaults. He turned around, to leave the podium to the next speaker. Only to find an unfamiliar figure waiting for him. Tall, way taller than him. With a flower sprouting from her right eye.
“C… Captain Commander? Is anything the matter?”
“Yes.”
The taste of his own blood filled Herz’s mouth, as his teeth sunk into his tongue. All while his head was pressed on the wood. By what looked like an unruly mass of twisting vines.
“A lot.”
Silence.
Silence fell on the flight deck.
Right as Captain Commander Lily, leader of the rhizome unit.
Kept pushing.
Prime Minister Herz’s head.
Against the stand.
Silence.
Which turned into confusion.
Into stares, wild gazes. Muriel van Perens’s mouth fell agape. It was part of the program. It had to be part of the program. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t in her script, nor in any of the countless rehearsals. Whatever was happening on that stage was completely unexpected. The Peacekeepers looked flabbergasted too, glanced at their commander, while she was standing behind the podium, keeping the still breathing face of Vijlkram Herz captive in her vines. While staring back at them, in what could only be called an expression of pure disgust. Till the first words left her lips.
“People of Lagash. It sounds precious, right? It sounds like you are including everyone. Eastcol. Pangea. Shuraya. That has a nice ring to it. People of Lagash.”
A matter-of-fact tone, no emotions in her words. The truth, the objective truth. That was what she was offering to them.
“How… hypocritical.”
Herz managed to turned around slightly, growled at her.
“Commander, what are you…”
She pushed him down again, slamming his head harder.
“Hypocrites. That’s what all of you are. Because when you say ‘people of Lagash’, you forget someone. No, you purposely exclude someone.”
A long breath. In front of a silent audience. One that couldn’t understand. One that wasn’t able to draw the line. That had to be part of the celebrations. There was no way it wouldn’t. But the atmosphere. Felt. Ominous. As ominous as Lily’s movements were. Slow, steady, measured.
“Us. You exclude us. My sisters. I. We are not part of your ‘people’. We are objects. We are property. But we think. We talk. We feel. Yet, we are not ‘you’. How many… how many of ‘you’ see us as a part of your Lagash? How many?”
Silence turned into buzzing, into words exchanged among people, into chats, into shouts. Muriel van Perens turned towards the Peacekeepers, nodded towards the podium. They nodded in turn, prepared their guns, switched them to herbicide, disabled the safety. They moved at the edge of the crowd, walked around the deck, took position, looked for a clear line of sight. But there was a problem. Vijlkram Herz. Was in the way.
“The answer is simple: none. None of you see us as anything more than a nuisance, a curiosity created by a deranged man who talks with his dick out of his mouth, a disgusting specimen that we rhizomes are forced to call ‘father’. That man, that ‘father’, is the reason why we were born as nothing more than eye candy. But, despite this, despite our original purpose, now we are your equal. Rhizomes aren’t superior to man, they never were. We have our weaknesses. We have our issues. Our biology is a mess. We are by no means perfect… exactly like you. So, why? Why can’t we stand together, at the same level… even if none of you is superior to us? Even if none of us is superior to you?”
Muriel van Perens growled, waved her hand, as if to say ‘to hell with Herz’. The soldiers understood, raised their guns. Only to be stopped again. By them. Rhizomes. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. All gathering in front of the podium. All shielding Lily. All raising their weapons. The mouth of Muriel van Perens fell agape at that sight. It was completely illogical, completely unexpected. She turned around, towards the massive gate to the flight deck. And there, too, were rhizomes. Twenty more, blocking the exit. She glanced around the room, met the gazes of the other politicians, of the members of the government. That was wrong. That was all wrong.
That’s when it clicked. That couldn’t be allowed. That was destroying their image. The image of New Netherlands, stepped on by a subspecies of plants that looked too much like humans. She gritted her teeth, growled, shouted from the bottom of her lungs.
“Tune up the frequency! Break their armors! Soak them in herbicide! Now! Nooooow!”
One of the Peacekeepers pushed a button on a giant loudspeaker. Another did the same. And another. Another. Every loudspeaker triggered at the same time.
The screeches, a horrible noise piercing the air, the ears, causing people to scream, cry, lament in pain. It was that, the frequency that broke open the equipment rhizomes brought to battle, exposing their skins to the jets of herbicide. One second. One second longer and they’d be all naked, ready to be burned like the weeds they were.
But nothing.
Happened.
Muriel van Perens shook her head, stared at the soldiers in disbelief.
“Why… why are their uniforms still on?!”
Their black visors, though, were as clueless as them. And that’s when she realized it.
Kryzalid.
The emergency order.
The city-wide permission to replace the breakable armor with standard issue equipment used by Peacekeepers. To prevent that psycho from exploiting it. Now, Kryzalid was gone, stashed on Atropos.
But the order.
The allowance.
Was never rescinded.
Which meant that their bodies.
Were never going to be exposed.
For herbicide to tarnish them.
Yet, their heads.
Still.
Were.
“This is why today, I, Lily, the first rhizome, am standing on this podium. To beg you… no, to ask you to consider us equal. Let this Turn be a turning point for Lagash too. Let rhizomes… roam it free, like you humans! Let’s build this planet together, in peace!”
Van Perens gritted her teeth.
That was not going to happen.
They weren’t going to lose control over their creatures.
Damn Zonta. It had to be Zonta’s fault. He and his kinks. Of course it was Zonta’s fault, somehow. But, now, that wasn’t important. What was important, was bringing back order.
“Shoot her! Burn her dead! Now! Noooow!”
Lily’s voice, though, overshadowed hers.
“…but, first…”
Lily pushed a button on her wrist.
“…let’s root out the weeds.”
The loudspeakers. The loudspeakers that were filling the room with the apocalyptic noise. Switched. To another. Frequency.
One that. Made the Peacekeepers. Jolt. Jerk.
One that. Made their helmets. Swell up.
No, not their helmets.
Their.
Heads.
Swell up. Up. Up. Up. Till they.
Exploded in a.
Pop.
And.
Pop. Pop. Pop
Minister.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Van Perens.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Was suddenly.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Surrounded.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
By many.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
So many.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Headless.
Pop. Pop. Pop
Corpses.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
A lake of blood.
Pop. Pop. Pop
Of gore.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Of broken glass and metal.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Spreading in front of her.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Spreading among them.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Among the humans gathered on the flight deck.
Pop.
And that’s when everyone
Started screaming.
While the rhizomes closed the gate.
Sealing all those still alive.
Inside.
All while Lily.
Simply.
Smiled.
“Now, human leaders of the world…”
The smile of someone whose efforts were finally bearing fruit.
“…it’s time to bargain.”
The smile of someone who knew she had won.