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Act of Conspiracy, Chapter II: Repercussions
Posted By: russ687<russ687@hotmail.com>
Date: 28 January 2005, 1:22 AM
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Chapter II
Repercussions
December 25, 2524
City of Standyle, Pacificatorius Capital City
Pacificatorius, Atropos System
Department of International Security, City Center
The duty of preventing and reacting to international crises was not well taken by any of the staff sitting in the high-rise building. On any other day of the week, or of the year for that matter, the productivity and enthusiasm would have been much higher, and even maybe some life-saving work could be done. But on such a day as this, none felt very motivated or compelled to begin the daily operations that they were tasked with.
Without a doubt the oldest, and still strongest tradition that had survived through the centuries and generations of Humanity, the twenty-fifth day of December was normally a time off; a full twenty-four hours where worries and anxieties were a far from thought. The opposite was proving true, however, since they were indeed sitting in this office, reviewing information, contacts, and leads to any number of threats that could jeopardize the security and safety of the citizens around this globe, and many others.
Mitchell Branson nearly sighed as he sat down at the rather small desk, seeing the small stack of papers. His wish was to be at home, sleeping, enjoying a holiday off from the usual business that he became accustomed to for nearly eight years. It was not as if he disliked the profession he had chosen, in fact, he readily enjoyed it, but there were limits and bounds to when and where this type of work went from gratifying to obnoxious. Nonetheless, he was an agent of the government, and when he was on the wire, responsibility and obligation called.
He looked distastefully at the first page, reading through the header. Government Dissimulation from Society Organization, Update 12-25-49; recent observed conduct predicts a larger movement in its contradiction towards the National Level of Government. Logistical and manpower movements are being speculated near the Levitian Sea.
Even the titles were long. The report went on for several more pages, of which Branson only skimmed, reading the same old material that seemed to come in every week. Granted, such an organization, affectionately coined GDSO, was teetering on the line of an extremist group and terrorist organization, it had seemingly dropped off the boards five months ago, when anarchical operations against the Pacificatorius State Government came to a sudden halt. Such interventions and insurgency of the past from this group caused significant problems among the State's financial and commercial abilities, often affecting the globe-wide economy far beyond what the analysts predicted. The GDSO was one of the major threats in Atropos, since it was not only the largest and main counter-government organization, but it had a mentality and way of operating that it was actaully popular among the general public, despite many claims by the propaganda gurus out-of-System that tried to put down these felonous acts.
Such an organization was nearly famous for its well prepared and executed actions against the State, and its popularity among Liberal citizens of this planet was at an all time high, though not surprisingly. Throughout nearly every offensive and interdiction operation of government resources and assets, the GDSO had an extremely low casualty rate, aiding its popularity as a "redeemer" rather then public enemy.
Branson flipped the page again, idly skimming over the material. This organization managed to inflict substantial amounts of damage to the State, including the deaths of thousands, while effectively limiting or avoiding collateral damage to any nearby civilian or social infrastructures. Due to this unprecedented success and carefulness, confidential polls resulted in a nearly thirty-percent favor of the GDSO and their actions against the State.
It was fairly disgusting, not only to him, but to his coworkers and superiors as well. He couldn't understand how such an extreme organization, often taking the lives of many innocent State employee's and military forces—here to ensure safety for that matter—could have such a large portion of support from the citizens across the continent and planet. While the majority was still in favor of the State, topping at just over fifty-percent, this anarchist disposition of the public was proving to be a larger offset to the balance of power by the month.
He got up and walked over to the nearby filing cabinet, marked "GDSO" across the top. Third drawer down, and he dropped the report into the weekly archives of the organization. Branson closed the cabinet door, a little harder then he meant to, and stared at the drawer directly above it.
The chronicles of all the insurgency the Government Dissimulation from Society Organization had committed; this drawer contained far too many reports and accounts. Ever since they appeared in June of 2512, this group had claimed over two-thousand lives, incomprehensible sums of monetary loss, and material losses that significantly slowed, and at some points crippled, the systematic order of government and economy in Atropos, even affecting trade with other Systems. Their publicized and perceived goal was to eradicate the government influence on the System, opting for a more Liberal sate of mind, changing the current stance of government influence on the social and economic areas to a fanatic Right-Wing position. Of course, such a revolutionary change would never happen, but their efforts and fights towards it were very impressive; potent, for any matter.
"Hey Mitch, take a look at this."
Branson turned to look across the office floor, over the cubical dividers, to the television screens that lined the upper walls. They were always on, each tuned to a different channel to pick up on the most diverse news that broadcasted across the planet, and even System as a whole. One of the screens was turned up loud enough to hear, and the sight of a reporter filled the view. Mitchell took several steps towards it as he watched, mildly intrigued.
"...We have just received word from the local law enforcement officials in Levitian that a major covert action has taken place at the residence of Chief Justice David Swarner." The camera panned down the wet street and zoomed in from a distance on the main gate entrance to the elegant mansion, the reporter continuing to speak from out of sight. "While there has been little information released by the Chief of Police, it appears as if a forced entry to the home was staged, and from views we have been able to get, it appears as if at least two tower security guards are dead."
"Holy shit," Duncan Ryals exclaimed, staring up at the screen from directly underneath it. The thirty-two year old was well versed in typical factious issues, and a comment by him meant this was serious. Branson walked up next to him, staring up as the camera panned to show what little scene they were allowed; law enforcement vehicles and personnel blocked off the road leading to the mansion.
"Rumors are abundant," the reporter continued. "And there is speculation that Justice Swarner is still inside his house, being held hostage by a group of men that is currently unidentified. Information regarding this group's affiliation and purpose is predicted to be released shortly, but word that this may be actions by the Peoples Anarchist Organization is filtering through..."
"Damnit, didn't we have that area under surveillance for some reason?" Branson asked, not looking over at the taller man.
Ryals nodded, continuing to stare at the screen and taking a shallow sip from the large mug in his hands. "Yes, we had a team there on surveillance for some reason, something to do with the PAO, I think."
Branson squinted, trying to think. The Peoples Anarchist Organization was a moderate size band of what seemed to be criminals, fighting for the same reasons as the GDSO, but with their goal criterion worded slightly different. They were not deemed a real-time threat, mainly because the infiltration they were able to achieve of the organization reported a low amount of resources and a mild activity rate. He had never really looked twice at the group, and had focused his attention mainly on the larger and more significant threat, the GDSO.
Levitian was a well known "territory" of the larger of the two groups, and actions by the PAO seemed nonexistent in the city. That group had refrained from interfering with the GDSO, opting to carry out their movements in the third largest city of the continent on the opposite side of the Levitian Sea. Combined, the two organizations would prove to be a formidable threat, but in the current state, they were fairly easy to handle.
"What the hell does the PAO want with a Court Justice?"
Ryals looked over. "Good question, they've not been one for the judicial section of the State."
Either the news was chasing a wrong lead, or they were missing something. Commonly, only the GDSO had shown any interest in the judicial branch of the government, but in any event, they had refrained from such direct actions through that door. For the Peoples Anarchist Organization to chase down such an interest seemed foolish and imprudent, and held no gain. Why would such an organization put their efforts into a seemingly dead-end endeavor?
Unless, he thought, unless they were tracking down a true path that would end up in their favor. None of these men and women constituting such extremist groups were unintelligent, and they had formidable motives behind every action. This partly made them predictable, but it also worried the entire defense community on Pacificatorius, and Atropos as a whole. They are up to something, and it was now his job to find out what that was.
The phone in his pocket vibrated, and he pulled it out, looking at the small screen for the number. Restricted. That could mean a lot of things in his line of work. "Branson."
"Tarpo, Kains in fifteen minutes." The call ended.
Mitch immediately recognized the codeword, and pocketed the phone. He moved quickly to his cubicle and donned his pistol holster, then threw on the heavy trench coat, loosening his tie in the process.
"Good news?" Ryals looked over.
Branson nodded sarcastically. "Get your stuff, we've got to go."
Standyle, Downtown Commercial Area, 15 Kilometers from City Center
The wet streets reflected the sun brightly as the clouds began to burn off overhead, allowing the sun to shine through. Last night's storm had nearly flooded the streets, and this morning the remnants of such a bombardment was easily visible. While this region was not unaccustomed to heavy downpours, flaws with the sewage and compensation systems proved obvious every time such a storm rolled through.
The streets were empty, and the sidewalks were vacant; not a single pedestrian in sight. The street-side shops were all closed, usual for an international holiday, and the sight had a surprisingly eerie yet peaceful serenity about it. Usually, this part of town was busy with shoppers and traffic, but the masses of people would not be wandering about until much later in the morning. The lack of populace would prove to be a bitter-sweet; it would be easy to find their contact, but it would be hard to remain undetected if anyone was watching.
Branson found a parking spot, and slid the inconspicuous vehicle into it. The two men disembarked and started walking down the long sidewalk, squinting at the bright reflection off the pavement, and watching the water slowly vaporize and form mist trails that ascended into the air. The sight was pleasant, and this orientation of the city was actually fairly attractive, being both clean and modern. But greater things clouded the two men's minds, and such a scenario would go largely unnoticed this time around.
They came up to a small intersection, and looked down the empty service alleyway to their right. Both sides of the small road were lined with five-story high buildings, and it ended no farther then city-block lengths away. Ryals quickly looked around them for any onlookers, then led the way down the alleyway. Both men kept attentive and vigilant as they passed large garbage dumpsters that could easily harbor an unwanted foe; nothing leaped out of them, however, and the small alleyway remained silent.
A closed door caught their eyes, and they headed for it, recognizing the fading letters stenciled across it. Kains. Branson stepped up and twisted the handle, feeling it turn and hearing the slight click as the door loosened. The two men stared into a dark hallway and cautiously began walking down it, but kept their weapons holstered and out of sight. Even though this was set up by one of their own operatives, it was standard protocol, and logic, to be alert during these meetings, since a trap or ambush could easily end their lives.
Branson took the lead and walked through a small maze of hallways, finally seeing the last door ahead. Ryals kept a hand on his hidden pistol as his partner reached to open the door. Anything could be waiting for them, and they would never know what until it was staring back at them. The door eased open with a slight groan.
Ahead of them was a large, empty kitchen, seemingly older but clean. Nothing was out of place, and the countertops reflected the white lights from the ceiling. Pots and pans hung from racks along the walls, and an island-countertop occupied the center of the kitchen. Movement caught their eyes.
"Stand down," the man said, walking into plain sight. "It's me."
Both agents eased up as they recognized the figure. Known to them only as Tarpo, this operative was deep undercover, penetrating even the highest echelons of the Peoples Anarchist Organization. The long, shaggy hair and unshaven face could render him completely indiscernible in a crowd, and the man's disarming look aided his vague theme of life. Working for the Department of International Security for over a decade, and functioning on this specific case for at least three years, he was not well known by most, but those who did manage to interact with him knew the quiet man as a dependable and reliable source.
Tarpo was a professional agent, and both Branson and Ryals knew that their summation to this secluded building, lost among the thousands of others in this city, was for no insubstantial reason. This man had something worth their time, no matter what day of the year it was, and it would give them an imperative lead in some area of relevance. All they had to do know was listen.
"I don't have much time, so I'll give it to you clean and straight."
The two agents nodded.
"Late last night I was informed by the operations coordinator of the PAO that they were embarking on a new, and seemingly very important undertaking that was going to expand their effectiveness and criteria of objectives ten-fold. As you may already know, their actions have been severely limited since we started cracking down on them around the Levitian Sea, but our attention was fairly off the city of Levitian because their endeavors there were nonexistent. This radical undertaking is giving them a cooperative alliance that is increasing the ability to perform their counter-government and military insurgency in Levitian by a factor impossible to determine.
"This new cooperation is also granting them expanded opportunities to have a greater influence and affect on not only our planet, but Atropos as a whole. From what evidence I could gather, their resources and interlinking resources are increasing tremendously, and there are further suggestions that sleeper-cells around this continent, and even the other planets of Atropos, are being mobilized. This in effect, from what I have heard, is the beginning of a combined rebellion that is being orchestrated to overwhelm our ability to stop it."
"Wait," Ryals spoke up. "What do you mean by 'combined' and 'cooperation'?"
"The Peoples Anarchist Organization's accepted conjunction with the GDSO."
Branson couldn't stop the surprise from washing over his face. The PAO merging with the GDSO? Some intelligence analysis that were studying their operations had suspected that such an event could occur, but it was widely regarded as improbable since there was evidence, from inside sources, that the leaderships of both groups held violently different views and policies.
The only way to bring these two groups together was if it was warranted for their common cause. It was evident to everyone in the Department of International Security, and even to the majority of the general public, that the ideals that both these organizations fought for were basically the same, and that a formal concurrence of their resources and manpower would not significantly alter their perceived or expected goals. Primarily, the only thing keeping such groups from association were the personal differences of their authorities, but such differences would be easy to overcome in the wake of a new, refined offensive against the State, should both groups deem it necessary.
"What is their first combined operation?" Branson asked carefully, hoping the answer would not be what he was thinking of.
"I cannot say for sure the entire schematics of their new plans, but I do know the first step involves the kidnapping of a Federal Court Justice."
Damn. "You're sure of that?"
A nod from the operative caused both agents to look at each other, comprehension washing over them. The news had not been wrong about the PAO's participation in that assault, but rather they had missed the signs of why such an event would occur. The GDSO had Levitian in their unofficial grasp, and no doubt would have had to support such an operation by the PAO. This information was by no means flawed or misleading; they were looking at a new System-wide threat.
"Chief Justice David Swarner was taken hostage in his residence late last night." Ryals said, throwing out the obvious connection to the theory and fact. "Last we heard, they were demanding a large sum ransom for his release."
The informant looked over in surprise. "They think Swarner and the assailants are still in the Justice's residence?"
Branson and Ryals nodded, not sure where this was going.
"He's not. They took him to some undisclosed location; nobody's in that house." The man looked at them, concern flooding his face. "What do the law enforcement officials plan to do? They're not going in there, are they?"
Branson caught the meaning in the man's eyes and pulled out his phone quickly, punching a speed-dial button. The phone rang several times on the other end, much to his distaste, and he waited impatiently as someone finally picked up. It was the office secretary.
"Carol! The situation in Levitian, what's going on?"
"Only a prerecorded video tape is being transmitted from the mansion about some ransom," the secretary replied. "No other communication with Swarner's captors is being made, so we're thinking that they want to communicate with some high brass from our side to arrange a drop-off..."
Branson began pacing involuntarily. "No, no. Tell me what the local law enforcement personnel are doing about it."
The was a short pause. "Well, I just got word that the law enforcement officer-in-charge sent in a special tactics squad to take out those terrorist and free the hostages, since replies by our guys to their demands is being met with silen—"
"Contact any of our people on the scene over there and tell them to stand down." Branson cut her off, talking into the phone louder then he meant to, but the urgency of the situation forced him. "Make sure nobody goes near that building."
"Mitch, I'm watching this live, and a team is just entering the mansion right now, armed and ready. There's no way I can stop this. Besides, why does this need to be called off?"
Branson took a deep breathe, his heart jumping as he looked over at the two men in the kitchen. It was obvious by the implied words of their informant that this hostage situation went far beyond a ransom, and the repeating, prerecorded message could only mean one thing, but there was nothing they could do to stop it.
"Mitch?"
He let his head hang, anger coursing through his lips. "It's a trap."
Levitian, Urban District Near the Levitian Sea, Chief Justice Swarner's Residence
The special weapons and tactics squad silently and professionally set the breach charge on the main door to the large estate. The two four-man teams waited as the demolitions expert set the remote detonator and motioned a thumbs-up to them, then taking a slight step back.
With their weapons raised and ready, the demolitions expert flipped the switch, and the small charge on the door exploded, forcing the door inward and breaking an entrance for the team.
The last thing any of them saw was a brilliant white flash before the entire mansion exploded in a bright torrent that consumed all within the estate's wall perimeter.
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