Saints of the Void: Atypical by Michael Valdez

the
capitol, Trenna Geil was given a short exam at the DSF Medical
Plaza. Since Dastou didn’t need any help recruiting, he let Saan-Hu
take the girl shopping while he prepped. Nes went with them, likely
because Trenna was quite lovely when not covered in dust, dirt,
blood, and grime – and because he’d be bored otherwise.
    As the others took some time for themselves, the
Saint was busy looking through his standard preparation scheme for
this type of mission. He didn’t have to, really, but he was very excited about what was happening. Not the deaths or the
tragedy, obviously, but just something new that was not easily
controlled. He essentially wanted to be challenged, to be given a
goal that needed achieving with hard work. Most Saints felt that
way after a while, taking actions such as exploring uncharted
territories or infecting themselves with a disease needing a cure
to alleviate their boredom. It was a wonder they were worshipped
far more often than shunned as maniacs.
    Dastou was serious about keeping this mission as
covert as possible, and hoped the Stone-State Council might be less
inclined to kick out a bunch of trainees. With that in mind, he
told his recruited agents to pretend to be low-rankers if asked
about their duties. By the time the six assigned agents signed into
the Caravan roster, Saan’s trio had returned, carrying far too many
sacks of clothing to be just for Trenna.
    The administrator and the new girl in town apparently
indulged in some female bonding over sizes, shapes, and colors at
every store they could get to in the time allotted. Not having to
pay for anything thanks to an expense account was a bonus that took
Trenna a little while to comprehend. Apparently Nes had given some
good fashion advice, too, and when Saan said so openly the corporal
puffed up his chest like he won some kind of contest.
    Two hours after arrival, all the preparations were
complete. With everyone in the Caravan, the Saint took the helm in
the cockpit room above his office, set the destination, released
the vice-locks, and activated the rail engines. Normally he let
Saan or another soldier with specific pilot’s training take care of
that, but this time he wanted to touch the controls himself. He had
to restrain from smiling like a fool as he set the mobile
headquarters back on course for Stone-State.
    *****
    Turn your head away from the Social Cypher only if
you feel like missing out on a miracle .
    That was an axiom within the Sainthood from long ago.
It expressed how the machine efficiency of mass-hypnotism never
ceased to amaze. By the time the Caravan docked at the embassy moor
again, the afternoon was a little over halfway done, so there was
plenty of daylight left. After Dastou shifted the polarity on his
office window from opaque black to transparent – it was set up to
look like shades being opened to further keep the not-quite-glass’s
properties a secret – the scene outside was almost peaceful. The
streets were clean and almost completely empty of people so that
new concrete poured into damaged sections could dry properly. The
damaged cars were all gone, replaced with new versions of the same,
all parked in the same spots as earlier whenever possible.
    The building that had its face blown off was being
repaired, a time consuming task. Complex scaffolding was set up,
and workers were operating proficiently, like hive workers in
service of a terrifying, obsessive-compulsive queen. The less
significant damage on other buildings caused by fast-flying debris
was being handled by simpler scaffolding and a smaller workforce.
The broken windows had already been covered with thin, weatherproof
plastic, a common enough material that tons of it were easy to get
a hold of. If past industrial accident patch-ups were any
indication, glass would be brought in for the panes in a day or
two.
    As planned, Dastou left Saan-Hu in charge of the
troops and science team. She was ranked as a Staff Sergeant, so she
could