|
|
October 12, 2022
Michael Thornside sat in his lab and touched the keyboard lightly, typing with a deft touch. He printed the file and leaned back, regarding the small piece of alien technology in his hands, scorched and inoperative. He'd been given a lab by Wychin, told to make some progress with the alien technology, and a permit which was a literal 'carte blanche' as far as his research was concerned. That was ten years ago, and he found himself reflecting on it. Ten years in a lab and he was certain of one thing.
President Wychin's new order was not for him.
Killing aliens in war was one thing. Killing them at peace . . . that was cruelty. He turned and tore off the printout, looking at it. "This is not right." He stood and went to a waist-high pedestal constructed of alien alloy. "Try boosting the power." He turned and nodded to a sectiod standing near a switchboard. The alien's fingers pushed at a switch and Mike watched a glow begin around a spot on the pedestal.
"That's better. Now cut in the secondary unit." He looked at a similar pedsestal as a glow began on it. "Perfect. Now . . ."
The door was kicked open and uniformed soldiers burst into the lab. Mike looked up and started to open his mouth. "ISB! On the ground!"
"Wait a second . . . I have a permit." Mike reached into a pocket and a gun shot a plasma bolt into his shoulder. He dropped the paper and the agent holding the gun scowled.
"Don't move! Keep quiet!" Mike shut his mouth against a protest and watched the agents kick over some boxes of computer circuits. They roughly threw him into the pedestal and pointed their pistols at his chest. "Michael Thornside, you have been accused of formenting rebellion by collaborating with alien spies to undermine the security of the USSA."
"What are you . . ." The agent smashed the pistol into Mike's face to shut him up.
"The law states any citizen found consorting with the enemy is to be put to death." The agent pushed the gun against Mike's forehead. "I suppose it won't matter if I kill you now or if they do it later with a lethal injection."
Mike closed his eyes, as the agent bent over to pick up the permit. "This never existed." He burned it up with a shot form his pistol. "Die, traitor." The pistol fired again.
President Wychin looked at his desk at the report, and looked up at Vice-President Sophia Thornside. "This is depressing." He handed it to her, and spoke quietly. "Your brother was killed in a lab accident, according to this ISB report."
"What?" She took it and read it in a few seconds. "No, can't be . . ." "I'm sorry . . ." He looked at his desk. "It said there wasn't enough left to bury."
Sophia finished the report, and let it fall from her fingers before excusing herself and leaving the room. Sam looked at the desk and felt much older than he looked.
"I don't believe this . . ."
Written sometime in April 2000 by "Michael Thornside"