promisingly.
“Not to your liking, Trooper?”
“I was in the mood for one of the older ones.”
“How old?”
“Fifty years before that. Something like… like….” She hadn’t come to the Archive with any specific film in mind, just something to remove her thoughts from the mission ahead. “How about The Wizard of Oz?” Her trip to the park yesterday had brought the film to mind.
“That one is out on loan.” The words came out flat, as if expressing an opinion.
“Damn, I was in the mood for that.”
“There is a screening of The African Queen in Room 32-908.”
“Fine. And I would like to book The Maltese Falcon and… and… Gigi.” She rather liked the musicals, much to the disgust of the Archiver. Maybe she did it just to annoy the grumpy piece of circuitry who tried to discourage her taste in such films.
“It will be ready for pickup when you emerge, Trooper.”
“Thank you.” She had been here often enough to know her way around the myriad of floors and doors quite comfortably and found the room she wanted at the far end of corridor 32. Barely a handful of people were present for the screening, all sitting and waiting for the film to start. As always, Tarris took a seat at the back.
Rule Six in her Survival Handbook: Always keep your enemies in front of you to avoid getting stabbed in the back.
No one stabbed anymore. More efficient ways of doing that were available. Still, the sentiment was the same. The holoscreen went black as the titles came up, and Tarris lost herself in the fantasy for a while. She enjoyed watching the old color 3-D films in their natural state. It made her feel more human.
The film was barely halfway through when her wrist computer tapped her. The tiny illuminated screen delivered its message and switched off, returning the room to semidarkness. Tarris frowned. She really hated leaving in the middle of a screening, but she had no choice. The Monitor had called an emergency meeting.
* * *
She arrived at the monotone building with little trouble. The sun had finally been given a reprieve and was valiantly trying to dry out the mass of puddles that dotted the city. The cool air hit her as she walked through the front door, and she sighed in relief. Her leather coat was not the best piece of clothing to wear when the sun was out.
Tarris looked around the conference room. Three seats were conspicuously vacant, not that it surprised her. Corman always did like to make an entrance.
“Let us begin,” the Monitor announced.
“But, sir—” One of the younger troopers, Shark, tried to intercede but was cut off.
“I know, Trooper. We will begin.”
At that moment, the door slid open to reveal three albinos negligently standing there. Corman sauntered in. He cast his eyes over the seated group majestically, while his two “lieutenants” eyeballed anyone who dared look back.
“You are late, Troopers.”
“I am,” the lean man said and made a point of looking at his chronometer, “on time, Monitor.” His disdain dripped from the words like the eternal rain that cursed the metropolis. Corman slumped into his chair, as if already bored with the proceedings. Jackton and Luton followed suit, albeit a little more respectfully.
“I wish to stress the importance of tonight’s mission, Troopers. This is a multi-target contact, and I… the Council… want no mistakes.” The voice hardened. “There is to be no bloodbath. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Monitor.” All but one answered until Corman grudgingly muttered the two words.
“Deadly. Silent. Mysterious. It is to appear as an enigma. No cause of death but heart failure.”
Tarris watched her nemesis as the Monitor made clear what the Council wanted. She was the Group Leader, but she knew her authority would be ignored. As the sly smile crossed Corman’s lips, she wondered how she was going to maintain control. It seemed what the Council wanted and what Corman wanted were two
“Not to your liking, Trooper?”
“I was in the mood for one of the older ones.”
“How old?”
“Fifty years before that. Something like… like….” She hadn’t come to the Archive with any specific film in mind, just something to remove her thoughts from the mission ahead. “How about The Wizard of Oz?” Her trip to the park yesterday had brought the film to mind.
“That one is out on loan.” The words came out flat, as if expressing an opinion.
“Damn, I was in the mood for that.”
“There is a screening of The African Queen in Room 32-908.”
“Fine. And I would like to book The Maltese Falcon and… and… Gigi.” She rather liked the musicals, much to the disgust of the Archiver. Maybe she did it just to annoy the grumpy piece of circuitry who tried to discourage her taste in such films.
“It will be ready for pickup when you emerge, Trooper.”
“Thank you.” She had been here often enough to know her way around the myriad of floors and doors quite comfortably and found the room she wanted at the far end of corridor 32. Barely a handful of people were present for the screening, all sitting and waiting for the film to start. As always, Tarris took a seat at the back.
Rule Six in her Survival Handbook: Always keep your enemies in front of you to avoid getting stabbed in the back.
No one stabbed anymore. More efficient ways of doing that were available. Still, the sentiment was the same. The holoscreen went black as the titles came up, and Tarris lost herself in the fantasy for a while. She enjoyed watching the old color 3-D films in their natural state. It made her feel more human.
The film was barely halfway through when her wrist computer tapped her. The tiny illuminated screen delivered its message and switched off, returning the room to semidarkness. Tarris frowned. She really hated leaving in the middle of a screening, but she had no choice. The Monitor had called an emergency meeting.
* * *
She arrived at the monotone building with little trouble. The sun had finally been given a reprieve and was valiantly trying to dry out the mass of puddles that dotted the city. The cool air hit her as she walked through the front door, and she sighed in relief. Her leather coat was not the best piece of clothing to wear when the sun was out.
Tarris looked around the conference room. Three seats were conspicuously vacant, not that it surprised her. Corman always did like to make an entrance.
“Let us begin,” the Monitor announced.
“But, sir—” One of the younger troopers, Shark, tried to intercede but was cut off.
“I know, Trooper. We will begin.”
At that moment, the door slid open to reveal three albinos negligently standing there. Corman sauntered in. He cast his eyes over the seated group majestically, while his two “lieutenants” eyeballed anyone who dared look back.
“You are late, Troopers.”
“I am,” the lean man said and made a point of looking at his chronometer, “on time, Monitor.” His disdain dripped from the words like the eternal rain that cursed the metropolis. Corman slumped into his chair, as if already bored with the proceedings. Jackton and Luton followed suit, albeit a little more respectfully.
“I wish to stress the importance of tonight’s mission, Troopers. This is a multi-target contact, and I… the Council… want no mistakes.” The voice hardened. “There is to be no bloodbath. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Monitor.” All but one answered until Corman grudgingly muttered the two words.
“Deadly. Silent. Mysterious. It is to appear as an enigma. No cause of death but heart failure.”
Tarris watched her nemesis as the Monitor made clear what the Council wanted. She was the Group Leader, but she knew her authority would be ignored. As the sly smile crossed Corman’s lips, she wondered how she was going to maintain control. It seemed what the Council wanted and what Corman wanted were two
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