Duran Cross - Raddocks Horizon

‘How we handle our staff is our own affair. All documentation is in order, and the technician in question was fully aware of the risk posed by trying to break quarantine. We will not tolerate anyone putting the general public at risk,” says Gainsford calmly.

“Oh well played!” says Rennin clapping at the TV.

‘Yes, Mister Gainsford, but today the guard from the watchtower who is in question about the shooting was also on scene at the truck moments after it was hit. Would this man be Rennin Farrow?’

Gainsford pauses a moment, ‘Yes.’

‘The same Rennin Farrow on duty during the alleged shooting?’

‘Yes.’

‘We have requested an audience with him to ask what happened but he has refused, and since no legal action was taken we’ve been desperately attempting to gain an interview with him. We were hoping to hear from him before we went to air.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Has he given a statement to you, to issue to us?’

‘No he hasn’t commented on it at all.’

Rennin scoffs.

The anchor takes a breath after a slight pause. She genuinely seems conflicted about what she’s about to say, rather than pausing for dramatic effect.

‘We were informed earlier today that Doctor Caufmann has decreed all schools will close after the Gorai Aurelia rally on the 23 rdof this month, until further notice. Is there any reason for it?’

‘Doctor Caufmann has decided that since public unrest is increasing over the nervous system sickness that’s been spreading, he has organised flu vaccinations to be distributed to as many as possible since it has been blended with a solution to aid immune response to anything that may attack the nervous system. Closing the schools is a temporary measure to slow the spread of the affliction by limiting contact between students,’ says Gainsford.

‘A vaccine won’t do any good for someone who already has the virus.’

‘There is nothing to confirm it’s a virus,’ says Gainsford quickly.

‘Vaccines are primarily used to prevent viral infections, correct?’

‘You must understand that I’m not a scientist, only a spokesperson. The technical information should be heard from Doctor Caufmann.”

‘Is there anything available for those who are already sick? As opposed to those that are yet to be infected.’

‘Nothing as yet, but we are working around the clock.’

‘Mister Gainsford, thank you for your time.’

“And fuck you,” says Rennin holding up a freshly poured glass of scotch.

‘Always a pleasure,’ he says as his hologram fades leaving only the lovely anchoress.

‘That is your news for tonight, thank you for watching, I’m Ellie Andress, goodnight.’

Rennin could remember a time when flu vaccinations were only made available just before flu season hit, which in Raddocks Horizon used to be about April or May but in a rapidly expanding city with its own weather machine flu season is at any time.

Rennin likes Ellie Andress a great deal. Though in his opinion Gainsford’s ugly head spoilt the view tonight. Rennin sighs and half an hour later he is unconscious on the couch subliminally listening to infomercials.

The next day, Rennin is sitting in the communal lunchroom away from the others when Michael Gainsford walks in and scans the room. Upon seeing Rennin he walks briskly up to him, taking brief stock of the watchman spooning food into his mouth.

“Stand up.”

Rennin’s face remains deadpan. He looks upwards with what looks to be severe effort. “I’m eating.”

“We’re going to Caufmann’s office, right now. Get up.”

Rennin shakes his head. “You’re not my real Dad.”

Gainsford is a visage of barely contained rage. “Explain this,” he says slamming a newspaper down on the table. Rennin has made the front page. The shot features him, gun in hand, standing next to the destroyed delivery truck.

“Did you buy a real newspaper just to do that?” asks Rennin with a chuckle.

“The article says you called the press office and went over last night and gave them all kinds of information!”

Rennin waves his hand dismissively, “Impossible.”

“Do you know how this looks, you little shit?”

“What time was this interview?”

“Does it matter?”

“To me it does. I was home all night. I would like to know how I was interviewed without my knowledge,” says Rennin without blinking.

Gainsford leans on the table so close that Rennin can smell his breath, “I don’t care for your smart mouth and you don’t intimidate me, Farrow. Stand up.”

“I’m eating.”

Gainsford slaps Rennin’s tray off the table onto the floor. All other eyes in the lunchroom look over to them. Rennin catches Jellan Roths’ eye for a moment while she absently scratches at her arm.

Gainsford is still staring at his eyes.

“Get up.”

Not long after, Rennin and Gainsford are in Caufmann’s office. The doctor looks terrible. His clothes are rumpled, his hair is matted despite being quite short, and his eyes are sunken. With the green glow from his eyes he looks quite necrotic.

Gainsford is just finishing the summary of his accusations against Rennin when Caufmann puts his hand up. “It wasn’t him.”

The spokesman is surprised at his dismissive tone, “But, William, this article has printed things that they couldn’t have made up.”

Caufmann’s expression gives nothing away. “Rennin has executed several traitors already, it stands to reason there are more.”

“I beg your pardon?” Gainsford swallows audibly.

“I myself have even executed some staff, and will probably have to kill a few more.”

There is a long intense silence but Gainsford musters the strength to speak again, “Why?”

Caufmann tilts his head back a little in his chair as if pondering an answer, “Let’s say… espionage.”

Rennin smirks.

Gainsford is obviously not convinced, “Spying? For whom?”

“Does it matter? Employment Contract clearly states that termination is immediately put into effect upon a staff member leaking any sensitive information to outside sources.”

“Termination does not warrant execution!”

“You’re a lawyer, Michael, you know how open to interpretation the English language is.”

“This is not a joke.”

“Am I laughing?” asks Caufmann.

“What kind of work is so sensitive that you have to shoot anyone leaving?”

“This installation is the foremost of its kind. Our experiments involve some of the most dangerous materials and pathogens known to this world. Some of these experiments would reach untold material wealth.”

Gainsford doesn’t seem convinced. “But—”

“I can explain it all to you but you’d never be allowed to leave the lower levels of the lab,” interrupts Caufmann.

Gainsford leans back almost as if slapped, “The rumours are true, aren’t they? The illegal research, the viruses, it’s all true.”

Caufmann’s smile makes his strong features look gaunt and nearly diseased, “If I tell you, you’ll become a permanent resident.”

Gainsford says his brief goodbyes and exits the room leaving Rennin with Caufmann.

“Sir?”

Caufmann grunts. “I’ve told you not to call me that, Ren.”

“Either way, I have a question, Billy.”

Caufmann arches an eyebrow and sighs, “Sir it is.”

“There is a Beta HolinMech unit in city.”

“I know that.”

“They also want to apprehend the Progenitor-class,” says Rennin unable to stop himself.