Murder in New Eden
by Charles C. Cole
Welcome to New Eden, an isolated city floating in space, whose founders believed the start of the 20th century was as good as it would ever get. Gun-free police supervise from atop their penny-farthings, carrying only batons. Aggression has been chemically suppressed for years. But then violence erupts. In response, the chief of police weighs the prospect of thawing secret soldiers. In the middle of it all, two bright young women push for equality and recognition.
Chapter 4: Waking Up
Just outside the tenth-floor walkout of the mayor’s penthouse office, surrounded by a twelve-foot tall fence, Brandt and Pelkey are playing some friendly tennis. They each wear bright white socks and tennis shoes, with red-and-white referee jerseys. Pelkey is having difficulty keeping up, but it could well be just an act. He signals for a break, and they stop to catch their collective breath. Pelkey practically collapses on a nearby bench, while Brandt uses the time for some much-needed stretching.
“Toby, now’s as good a time as any to remind you that we live in paradise. It may be artificial, held together with more rivets than God’s blessings, but it’s all ours. Our little piece of Heaven. And yet some are taking it for granted.”
Pelkey towels off his neck and forehead. “Not me, Your Honor. No, sir, I couldn’t want for anything more.”
“Good, because, frankly speaking, you’re about as high as you’re going to get, while I’m still around. If you can’t be the king, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being the king’s lapdog. You get all of the luxuries without any of the responsibilities. Sure, I’ve got to yell at you now and again, but that’s just for effect; I don’t mean it. Just shrug it off and enjoy the perks.”
“If I may speak freely, sir.”
“Go ahead. What am I going to do, shoot you?” Pelkey freezes. “I’m kidding.”
“Leo’s in over his head.”
“True, but he’s a good scapegoat, the best there is. Most logical. I’m in charge of the government, not the police force. I guarantee life support and healthcare, education for our children, and sewage processing. The only thing Leo has to control — let’s be honest — is civic attitude. If he keeps the peace, he keeps his job.”
“And if he doesn’t.”
“He can be replaced. Why?”
“What qualifications would you look for?”
“Slow down, Toby. Things are about to get a lot messier. A storm is coming.”
“Meteoroids again? I hadn’t heard.”
Brandt laughs. “Not literally. And hopefully not as bad. My dear friend Leo has just asked for his own personal lion. Do you know what a lion is, Toby?”
“I’ve seen them in books. Like a big cat, only wild.”
“Not just any cat, a ferocious man-eating cat that’s impossible to tame, one with a predisposition towards aggression. One that’s on your side as long as it thinks you’re in charge. Show weakness, and you’re dinner.”
Pelkey is still taking him literally. “I didn’t know we had a lion in stasis.”
“Neither did I, but that’s a topic for another day.”
“Is that what your private conversation was about?”
“That’s right. You’re out of the loop. How’s it feel?”
“This is the first I’m hearing of it. Dammit, sir, I’m your communications director.”
“So you keep reminding me. Do you want me to have it sewn above the breast pocket of all your dress jackets? That way you’d know that I know.”
“That won’t be necessary,” says Pelkey.
“If this goes south on Leo, and it has every likelihood, we want to keep you as far away as possible. If you want to be the next mayor or the next police chief of New Eden—”
“I just want to be in a position where I can do the most good.”
“Then we want to keep you out of any historical ugliness. You’ve got quite a way with words, Toby, take it from me, but we don’t want to ignite a spitting contest between you and the chief. Damn him; he’s got public recognition and integrity on his trading card. You, on the other hand, just have public recognition.”
“Sir?”
“Agatha Devonne? What were you thinking? Things like that have a way of leaking out. Did you forget there are cameras everywhere?”
“Everywhere? I thought they were mostly just for show, as a deterrent.”
“Obviously, they didn’t deter you and Agatha.”
“It was one time. Neither one of us took much enjoyment out of it, I swear.”
Brandt comments dryly, “Context makes all the difference.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Noted. We’re putting more cameras online, by the way. They may not stop certain compulsive felonious behavior but, hopefully, they might give us the lead time we need to save a few lives.”
“You don’t think it’s over then?”
“Don’t ask a question for which you’re not prepared to hear the answer. Have I taught you nothing, esteemed underling?”
“You’ve made me the man I am today.”
“Nicely put. It goes without saying that this conversation is not for publication,” says Brandt. “I want the violence to be over as much as anyone. Let’s see what the chief can come up with. I need him to persuade me.”
* * *
In the medical examiner’s suite, Schiavelli and Wayne stare down at a sleeping patient on a bed. Although it seems unlikely, the patient is hooked up to more monitors now than when he was in the cryogenics vault.
“You did good, medic.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s amazing what you can do with detailed documentation. Everything was in the archives. I just had to find it. And translate it into workable steps. And recreate it from scratch. I can show you how I did it.”
Wayne steps away to the nearest computer, eager to share her process.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“It’s no problem. They had some genuine mad scientists back in the day.”
The chief is distracted or not interested or overwhelmed or a combination of all three. He doesn’t follow her. “Sorry to get you up so early, but nobody else can do what you can do. And I didn’t want a lot of witnesses, what with our recent excitement.”
“Perfectly understandable, sir. Even ‘turned off’, he looks like a storybook soldier, awaiting his next mission.”
“They don’t make them like that anymore, not around here. And ‘here’ is all that matters. Wayne?” He gestures for her to return, which she does. “Do yourself a favor, keep him restrained, for your own protection, until we know he’ll listen to reason.”
“He’s one of the good guys, right, sir?”
“That’s the theory, but he may need convincing that we’re on the same side. I don’t know what they told him when they put him on ice. Did they retire him with full pomp and ceremony or did they abruptly tuck him away when he became a reminder of a less civilized time? He’s going to be disoriented. Except for the other pods, with all of the years since he last suited up, clearly he’s lost everyone. I know he’s a soldier, trained to handle the rough stuff, but go gentle on him.”
“You’re leaving? Where will you be?”
“Creating a diversion.”
“Sir, what do we tell him about the other pods, if he asks?”
The chief smiles coyly. “What other pods?”
A wall phone flashes red, while also ringing loudly.
“You expecting a call?” asks Schiavelli.
“Nobody would expect to find me here at this hour. I thought it was for you. You don’t think it’s another emergency?”
“Nakamura would probably track me down in person. No, that would be the good mayor. I can tell by the condescending ring. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s having me followed. Don’t answer it. I’m heading back to my office, the longest way I know. I don’t want to have this conversation now. When dealing with a longwinded politician who needs reassurance, it’s best to have a strong drink and a comfortable chair.”
“Does he know about this?”
“He’s the mayor; I needed his approval. And I’m sure he knows you’re the only one who could pull it off.”
“What if he hadn’t approved?”
“If you didn’t know, my department only maintains those ubiquitous security cameras, but he tells us where to point them. It wouldn’t shock me if he’s up at all hours, reviewing the latest footage. Personally, I wouldn’t want to know.”
“Corruption corrupts, they say.”
“Stay out of politics, I say. I’m off to entertain, to obfuscate. Keep the place locked tight. Nobody gets in.”
“Second thoughts?”
“Not enough to change my mind.”
“It’s a new world, isn’t it, sir?”
“But we’re going to be ready for it. And, Wayne, do me favor, keep Petrillo at a polite distance. I’ve got a vibe about him that’s giving me a cramp in my side.”
“Yes, sir.”
With one last sigh, Schiavelli turns and leaves. Wayne reviews the monitors. The soldier, Sgt. Jefferson “Jeb” Cody per the dog tags, lying on his back in a white hospital gown, stirs behind her. He tries to stretch and immediately encounters his restraints.
“Hey! What’s the idea?”
“On my way, Sergeant.”
“Are you a nurse?”
“Would you calm down if I said yes?” She is professionally evasive, and offers a carefully cultivated response from years of being the bearer of bad, often aggressively challenged, news. To a stranger demanding candid answers, this may seem blatantly antagonistic.
“Why am I here?”
“Why would you usually visit a nurse?”
“To get the shrapnel out, to stop the bleeding, to get the pain under control so I can go back out to do what I do best.”
“Which is what?”
“I think we both know. Now, where am I?”
“Sickbay.”
“I don’t believe you. It’s not the one I remember. Where’s Doc Fortier?”
“Doc Fortier is unavailable at the moment.”
“Why do you look so unfamiliar to me?”
“Probably because we’ve never met before.”
“I want to see Doc Fortier. Get him now!”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“It’s just a guess, but for one, I don’t think you know anyone by that name. You just want to distract me. And two, if you did know a Doc Fortier, he’d be long dead.”
“Keep talking.”
Essentially cornered and too tired for games, Wayne blurts out, “Welcome to the distant future, Sergeant Cody, where you are now the oldest living antique.”
“What?! What does that even mean? Why am I tied down?”
“We’ve restrained you for your own protection — and mine, of course. Your reputation precedes you, soldier boy. We expected you to be a bit disoriented when you woke up after a lengthy cryogenic sleep, not to mention legs of jelly, although you were apparently given periodic electronic stimulation to promote muscle contraction. Very clever technology, I must say. You’ve been asleep a long, long time. Years, in fact. Decades.”
“Decades? I don’t think so.”
“Facts are facts.”
“Why would someone—?”
“I have no idea; I wasn’t around. We recently discovered you hidden away in a stasis pod in an unmarked vault. Hopefully for confidential storage, not incarceration.”
“I never broke a law in my life.”
“That’s what we hoped. Guessed. We figured someone was saving you for a rainy day, and that day is finally here, my friend.”
“And you are who, exactly?”
“Medic 1st Class Eartha Wayne. I’m the closest thing to a doctor around here. There is one other person, but we don’t talk about him. You can call me Lazarus, if you so choose.”
“Is that some sort of a joke?”
“In fact, it is. Good for you. A soldier who understands humor.”
“Sometimes. Only we call it friendly fire. Where’s the rest of my squad, doc?”
“We’ll get to that.”
“Tell me.”
“You’re all I was given, but I believe the rest of your team is still alive and well... in stasis.”
“Where am I? Don’t make me ask again. It could get ugly.”
“Satellite City New Eden. Ring a bell?”
He shakes his head. “No. I want to get up.”
“I don’t recommend it.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not a very ‘patient’ patient. Never was. I don’t like being vulnerable.”
“You, vulnerable?”
He tries another tact. “Have a heart, will ya, doc? If what you say is true, I’m going to have a much shorter Christmas card list. Let me up. What am I gonna do? Break your neck with my bare hands?”
“You might, if you felt you had no choice, or if I didn’t give you the answer you wanted in the time you wanted it. I’ve read about your kind. You’re quite formidable. Glad you’re on our side.”
“Am I?”
“That’s the rumor.”
“What if gave you my word, then would you let me up?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, not yet anyway.”
“Am I some kind of a prisoner?”
“No.”
Noticing his casual attire. “Where the hell are my clothes? My uniform?”
“That’s the way we found you but, fortunately for you, there was a locker nearby. That’s how we know your name, that and the dog tags around your neck.”
“They could be somebody else’s dog tags. Ever think of that?”
“They could. Are they?”
“No, I’m not that smart.”
“I’ll bet you are that smart.”
“What year is this, really?”
“We haven’t been on Earth in a few generations, so time is a little more flexible than it used to be. But to give you context, from what we’ve determined, based on some uncorroborated oral history, you served honorably alongside the great-grandfather of our current chief of police. Does the name Vincent Schiavelli ring a bell?”
“Sure. A good man. A man of principles. Is he dead?”
“Long time now, I’m afraid, of old age. Along with his adult son. And his adult son’s adult son. However, I have the distinct pleasure of working for his great-grandson, Chief Leo Schiavelli.”
“Is that right?”
“Also, a good guy. Also, a man of principles.”
“A regular chip off the ol’ block, huh? What does this have to do with me?”
“He needs your help. We all do.”
“It’s no accident that you thawed me out, is it? Somebody apparently misplaced me, but you sure knew how to find me when you needed me. That’s something.”
“In my experience, eventually, people get around to cleaning out the attic and, when they do, they sincerely wish they had done it sooner.”
“I want you to undo these straps, give me my clothes back, and get me a wastebasket, pronto.” He closes his eyes and throws his head back.
“A wastebasket? What do you need that for?”
“I’ve got a wicked case of motion sickness, and something I apparently ate decades ago wants to get reacquainted. Is that direct enough for you?”
“Coming right up, meaning me, not you. And I’ve got some meds that’ll calm your insides down.”
Copyright © 2018 by Charles C. Cole
