Occupied Earth Read online

  They killed her then took her body and threw it into the bay.

  Adeline massaged her eyes and desperately tried to push away the needless thoughts. What good would they do now? She turned to the tablet Franklin had left for her in the car and attempted to catch up on the day’s agenda.

  Outside her car, the landscape of the city quickly transformed from the idyllic refuge of the wealthy and political, to the reality of Occupation. To Adeline’s mind, the City of Seattle had never truly been a beautiful city—that honor was given to London—but it once had a certain unique charm that was undeniable. Now, however, the city streets looked more like the remains of pre-war Detroit, crumbling and flaking like lead paint. While some sections of the city were better than others, nearly every building edifice was vandalized with the Red Spear symbol alongside various versions of “Mocks Go Home!” and “Earth for Earthers.” Water and food shortages were rampant; looting a common occurrence. The streets were littered with garbage, and the people seemed eternally covered with a thin film of grime. Or perhaps that was simply Adeline’s perception of it; it had surely been her perception of humanity as a whole.

  There was a strange irony that the Mahk-Ra had chosen the Space Needle as their base of operations on Earth, and Adeline had always quietly wondered if it had been intentional. As the car made the approach, after making its way through the various gates, inspections, and security sweeps needed to enter, Adeline tried to remember what the Needle had looked like back before the war. At the very least, she knew there had been no gun turrets atop the saucer. The chauffer pulled the car up the Magistrate Building—a Spartan building of Mahk-Ra design, the twin black columns lining the entrance the only ornamentation. Adeline finished the last of her daily prep while she waited for her driver to walk around the car and pull open the door.

  “Ma’am,” he said.

  He offered a hand to help her out, which Adeline took. Her knees were not what they used to be. She tucked her tablet under her arm and headed into the building.

  The inside of the Magistrate building was cold and dimly lit, better for the Mahk-Ra, who found Earth’s sun oppressively bright. Adeline’s own eyes had long ago adjusted to the difference, but she was forever thankful for the illumination of tablets and computer screens. There was comparatively minimal security within the building, with only a handful of guards scattered around the halls. Even if the Red Spear were bold enough to try and attack the buildings surrounding the Needle, they would have to fight their way through a number of barricades and kill-zones before they could make any significant damage. And with the gun turrets atop the Needle, air and missile strikes were next to impossible.

  “Good morning, Director,” Grand Commander S’Fek-ra said, his scarred visage looming over the entrance. He had been waiting for her, which was little surprise, but still an annoyance.

  “Grand Commander. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “Only thirty-four seconds. It is inconsequential,” he said, stubbornly holding onto his Mahkanese accent after so many years on Earth. He turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, his heels clapping against the marble floor.

  Adeline did her best to keep stride, a task that was always difficult for a woman of five-one following a seven-foot tall alien; especially one that insisted on having mobile meetings. “I read over your reports,” she said.

  “Did you? I am always impressed by your ability to do what is exactly required of your position.” S’Fek-ra’s position as Earth’s Grand Commander, much like his scar, was given as a punishment, an ironic reward for some war-time failure on the other side of the galaxy. He made sure his distaste for this world and its populace was well known.

  “I noticed there is little on the agenda to curb the water shortages in the South,” she said, ignoring the slight.

  “We can’t allocate those resources at the moment, not with the recent swell of insurgency in Europe. The South will just have to suffer a little longer. If the local governors ask, simply tell them the new desalination plants will be operational within six-months and apologize, again, for the delay. What is your assessment of the situation in Australia?”

  Adeline fought the urge to glance at her tablet. She knew she had read over the Australian report on the ride over, could even visualize the continental map with the large swath of red across it, but the actual report was muddled in her mind.

  They had beaten her to death and thrown her body into the bay.

  “I’m actually more curious to hear your thoughts on the matter, sir,” Adeline replied after the briefest hesitation. “It’s been years since I’ve overseen that sector.”

  S’Fek nodded, accepting the answer. “An absolute mess. Were it up to me, we would carpet bomb the entire continent and kill off that particular breed of malcontents, but the home-world feels they produce your best soldiers.” His lips snarled. “I’m sending down a diplomatic envoy to work out an agreement that will hopefully help quell the tumult, though I have little confidence in their success.”

  They talked through other local and what once considered “international” matters as they made their way through the halls, with the Grand Commander alternating between praise and outright mockery at Adeline’s suggestions. It was part of the daily repartee; a game of one-upmanship that Mahk-Ra seldom afforded humans. Normally, Adeline found she somewhat enjoyed it. Today, however, she found the procedure bristling, and was grateful when they arrived at her office door. S’Fek gave her a brusque farewell and began heading towards his next roving meeting when Adeline decided their conversation was not yet at an end.

  “Before you go, Grand Commander,” she called after him.

  S’Fek stopped short, but didn’t look back. “I have a meeting with the Consumptions Department in one minute, Director,” he said, impatiently.

  “It is in regards to the Broadview Riot,” she said without emotion.

  He half-turned his head toward her, curiosity breaking through his typically stone face demeanor. “What about it?”

  “I was wondering if I could see the Talon’s report, there are some discrepancies that I would like to rectify, specifically in regards to the escalation in violence.”

  A moment passed before S’Fek slowly turned around to face her. “The Talon falls under my supervision. If there’s a discrepancy I can easily take care of it. Besides, we’ve already determined it was instigated by the RS to distract from their unfortunately successful raid on the munitions depot in Beacon Hill.”

  “I wouldn’t want to trouble you. Besides Broadview is part of my jurisdiction, I should correct any oversight that may have occurred. And I would like to see if there’s anything I can learn to prevent something like that from happening again.”

  “Something like ‘what’ from happening again?”

  “A riot of that nature so close to the Needle, instigated or otherwise. Even with our defenses, it’s a risk I wish to avoid.”

  S’Fek studied her for a moment, his large black pupils steady. “It will be delivered to your private computer promptly,” he said at last.

  Adeline gave him a slight nod. “Thank you, Grand Commander.”

  But S’Fek was already walking away. Adeline waited until he had rounded a corner before she keyed open her office door and walked into the waiting room.

  Her assistant Franklin was waiting for her, dutifully standing by his desk, with a tablet ready in hand. “Good morning, Director,” he said with a thin, welcoming smile. “How was your meeting?”

  “As expected,” she replied with an exasperated sigh. She walked toward the entrance of her private office. Franklin, always on point, followed after her. The lights automatically flickered on as they entered, revealing a classic wood-paneled room that evoked a lost era of human dominance. Unlike the other rooms in the Magistrate building, Adeline had adjusted her lights to a brighter setting, both as a necessity for her human eyes, as well as a way of granting her some control over her Mahk-Ra superiors. “Did I miss anythi
ng while I was with the Grand Commander?”

  Franklin adjusted his glasses and he read over his tablet. “Just the usual correspondences. Typical allocation requests, general updates from local precincts. The Eastern governors were hoping to arrange a conference call with you sometime this week.”

  “Is this in regards to the influx of European refugees?” she asked as she sat down behind her desk and switched on her computer terminal.

  “I assume so, ma’am.”

  “Set something up for later this week. Thursday, perhaps.” There was a soft chime from her computer and Adeline froze when she noticed a small notification from the Talon had appeared on her desktop.

  “Um. Excuse me, ma’am?” Franklin said with visible discomfort.

  Adeline blinked her way back to the present. She raised her chin toward her assistant, but kept her gaze on the screen. She hadn’t expected it so soon, which, to her mind, meant only a small number of unpleasant possibilities. “Yes?”

  “If I may be so bold… are you all right? You seem…”

  “My daughter was killed during the riot in Broadview,” she said before she could stop herself. She wasn’t immediately sure why she had let that slip out, but noticed the pressure that had been building in her chest had lessened slightly.

  “Oh,” Franklin sounded quietly. His face paled, unaccustomed to seeing the normally detached Adeline reveal anything approaching emotion. Adeline doubted he even knew she had had a daughter. “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, Franklin,” Adeline said, her demeanor stiffening, “but it is unnecessary. She was simply on the wrong end of a—On the wrong side.”

  “Ah,” Franklin said. He glanced down at his feet, understanding the implication. “Well, if there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “You’re very kind, Franklin,” Adeline said. “But right now, I just need some privacy so I can take care of the day’s agenda.”

  “Understood,” he said with slight bow. “You know where to find me.”

  “Close the door behind you,” Adeline instructed as he walked out.

  She waited several seconds after she heard the click of the bolt latching into place before she tapped the notification. A small text message appeared, curt and polite, it simply stated that these were the files she had requested of the Grand Commander. She tapped the message and a dozen or so labeled folders fanned out over the screen. She quickly scanned for the folder marked “IRs,” knowing it would be the only thing she’d need to deduce who had killed her only child.

  IRs, or Incident Recorders, were recordings from the cameras outfitted in all Talon enforcer helmets. The recordings were stamped with a Talon enforcer’s Unit as well as their personal identification number, the date and time, and were used as tools for training and future strategy and tactics, rather than security. As such, the recordings never released to departments outside the Talon or the Magistrate. Even the police weren’t aware of the cameras’ existence. It was bitterly ironic that the one thing that could help identify her daughter’s killers was completely denied to the one department that could truly do anything about it. And while Adeline doubted she would reveal this to either agent Harper or JoHannas, she could, at the very least, use the recordings to help her find the killer herself.

  The IRs were organized by Talon I.D., from Twenty-One-Zero-Zero to Eighty-Eight-Seven-Three. Adeline was briefly stunned by the sheer amount of Talon enforcers that had been used that day, forgetting that she had been the one who had called them out. Yes, the riot had gotten that bad and the response had been warranted. A role normally taken by shock troops, use of Talon enforcers to quell a riot was atypical, but due to the protest’s proximity to the capital and suspected Red Spear agitation, Adeline had sent out the enforcers to ID and imprison any known RS operatives. She knew that even if she had known her daughter was there she would have made the same decision, but such was the price of governing.

  But they had beaten her to death and dumped her corpse in the bay.

  Adeline stared at the video file icon for several minutes, her finger hovering over the screen. Did she really want to watch her daughter’s murder from the point of view of the killer? Would it do anything to bring her back, make things right, or somehow erase the last ten years of estrangement?

  No, it wouldn’t.

  But it would let her know what direction she should take next, and she would go through every single recording if necessary.

  Adeline couldn’t remember the exact trooper layout from that day, so she held her breath and selected one at random, Twenty-Four-Zero-One. The screen briefly went black before a mass of colored pixels burst out before resolving into a crystal clear three-dimensional video of the enforcer’s P.O.V. Adeline felt a quick touch of nausea as the camera quickly moved left and right, showing a number of black-suited Talon enforcers march in step toward the rioters, which she could hear but not see. She stole a paranoid glance at her office door and turned down the audio. She didn’t need to hear what happened.

  In the lower left hand corner of the screen was the date and time, with the shifting global position directly beneath, both in Mahkanese. She tapped the right hand side of the screen twice and the video began quickly scrubbing forward. She watched as the enforcers marched up against the barricades, the seething mass of rioters throwing rocks, bricks, and Molotov Cocktails while also burning Mahk-Ra’s in effigy. Soon the rioters broke through and began attacking the enforcer, or perhaps it was the other way around. It wasn’t clear either way, nor did Adeline ultimately care. She knew what she needed to see, and nothing else.

  Which was why it was so troubling when she suddenly came upon a black screen. Adeline paused the video and rewound, making sure it wasn’t simply a glitch. She played it back, at standard rate, and watched as the video blinked off. She then fast-forwarded for several minutes before the video came back again. She glanced down at the time code and saw it had advanced nearly a half-hour. On screen the enforcer was in the midst of a violent struggle with the rioters, striking them with electrified batons, the humans’ heads spraying blood in small geysers. This went on for quite some time—there had been a total of twenty-eight humans killed that day—so Adeline advanced the video further until she came to another section of black. Thinking, perhaps hoping, it was indeed really a glitch, she selected another IR at random, only to find the same sections blacked out. She selected another, and another, each time finding the same sections redacted from the videos. She had noted down the time code and global position of the two video breaks, recalling the first as the approximate time and location of her daughter’s death, and assumed the second indicated when her body had been dumped into the bay. After the tenth or eleventh video Adeline leaned back in her chair, steepled her hands, and stared silently at the screen, understanding the implications.

  “Franklin,” she said as she walked out of her office an hour later.

  “Yes, ma’am?” her assistant said, dutifully standing out of his chair.

  “Franklin,” she repeated as she adjusted her sleeves. “I’m going to be stepping out for a little while. Can you arrange for my car to pick up outside the Magistrate?”

  “Certainly,” he replied, though his face betrayed his befuddlement. “Would you like me to redirect your calls as well?”

  “No, let them leave messages. Last I checked we weren’t at war, at least not on this planet. I’m sure anything anyone might want me to deal with isn’t so urgent that it can’t wait until I return.”

  “Very good, ma’am. I’ll make sure your car will be waiting for you.”

  Despite the innumerable armaments and security that surrounded what had once been called the Space Needle, the area still retained much of its park-like atmosphere, maybe even more so. Well-manicured grass surrounded the Needle, with benches, flowerbeds lining the brick walkways spreading out wheel spindles in every direction. It was a leftover from the Mahk-Ra’s first attempt at a “hearts and
minds” campaign shortly after the conquest. Adeline had always found the area reminded her of Washington, D.C. from before it was a crater.

  Her car pulled up as she stepped off the Magistrate steps. Her chauffer left the engine running and went to open the passenger door for her. She gave him their destination as she climbed in. As he got back behind the wheel, she settled into her seat. The Director laced her hands together on her lap and watched the Magistrate pull away, her mind elsewhere.

  Several hours later, Adeline found herself staring at a family portrait; a young father and mother, two children, a boy and a girl. The photo had been taken in a lush green park, or had been digitally altered to appear as such. Adeline had closed down the last public park nearly fifteen years ago, though she couldn’t for the life of her remember the name. The family itself was all smiles, the father’s right arm wrapped around the boy, the left over the mother’s shoulder. The little girl, no more than a year old, sat in the mother’s lap. Her daughter had been about that age right before the invasion, but back then their portrait had been painted and hung before the public.

  She heard the front door unlock from down the hall, followed by the double-beep of the alarm system disengaging and then reengaging as the door shut. The corner of Adeline’s mouth quirked into a smile, suddenly remembering the old days.

  “Special Agent Harper,” she called as he walked down the hall toward the living room. She waited until he was standing in the room before she slipped the photo back onto the shelf.

  Harper’s hand hung over his sidearm, an instinctual and, to Adeline’s mind, understandable reaction. He glanced quickly to his left and right to confirm they were alone before let his grip on the gun handle loosen. “Director,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I apologize for the mess, I didn’t expect you’d be—”