Division by Brad Norris

Author:Brad Norris [Brad Norris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brad Norris
Published: 2022-02-16T00:00:00+00:00

21

– Philippa – February 16, 2079

In the Old Congressional Cemetery, early morning fog clung to the crumbling cenotaphs and headstones. Philippa and Kester stood in knee-high grass. A leafless sycamore loomed over the graveyard. Faded plastic bags, draped through the branches, fluttered like wraiths.

Technically, Philippa had been relieved of duty after being cleared by the RSC medical officer. She would face a disciplinary review after they returned to Richmond. Dress like a civilian was Kester’s only instruction when she told Philippa where to meet her.

Old women in ashen mantles made their way among the graves. Who do they visit? To whom do they pay their respects? The roads surrounding the cemetery were quiet. Behind them stood the old chapel. Ahead, the UD correctional facility loomed. The slab walls made of sand and rust-colored concrete jutted out of the ground. The stronghold of Dis.

Philippa’s heart hammered her chest. She’s so close. Just inside. I haven’t failed her.

Kester took a drag from her cigarette. “Whew, that was some show you put on at the parade.”

Philippa winced. “I saw her in that cage. I couldn’t stop myself. I know I’ve made things worse for you and the Premiers.”

Kester tucked her sunny hair behind her ear. “Don’t torture yourself, love. What’s going to happen will have very little to do with your actions yesterday. The state dinner was a horror show. Disgusting. The Trutnevas may have overplayed their hand. Their displays of power and brutality were designed to cower the Premiers into a truce. If anything, it steeled their resolve. But they have scored one victory: Charleston falters. Alliances are cheap when there’s little at stake. If they refuse to fight, we will have to face some terrible choices.”

“But the treaty…” Philippa’s words trailed off.

Grinding the butt under her heel, “Have you always been this naive, Philippa? This is self-interest we’re talking about. That feckless bitch, Ariel Carter, thinks she can strike a better deal with the Trutnevas. We have to relieve her of that idea.”

Philippa tore at her cuticles, stung. “Thank you…again…for doing this. You never even met Astrid. I can’t believe this is happening. You didn’t have to.”

Kester cocked her head. “I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to. Maybe there will be something you can do for me in return sometime.”

“Anything, just say it, Kester.”

“Someone’s coming. Remember, let me do the talking.”

An older man in a UD corrections uniform strode across the wet grass. He periodically glanced to either side. He probably thinks it’s a trap. He approached the two women. Thin whips of gray hair hung beneath his cap. His face was frosted with two-day whiskers.

He cleared his throat. “I was told you would provide documentation.”

Kester reached into the inside pocket of her fur-lined overcoat. She produced a document bearing the Imperial seal. Philippa gaped at it.

The officer read the letter. He looked up and scowled. “She must be special. This is, shall we say, highly unusual.”

Kester snatched it back. “Swallow it. This comes from above Sware.”

“I see. New regime, new rules.

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