Duran Cross - Raddocks Horizon

Rennin always thought it strange that there was a commander who was irrefutably in charge, followed by a group of captains then Lieutenant Veidan, yet for some reason Saifer Veidan was the second in charge. Android ranking did tend to differ slightly to the human army though. One of his troops once said that for some reason the CryoZaiyons worked like the warriors of ancient times, with a general and their lieutenant, whereby everybody else was secondary.

Rennin wishes the CryoZaiyons were still around. Even the crazy ones were more reliable than people.

He reaches the door to his tower and presses his thumb to the read plate. A female voice greets him with the usual welcome on behalf of the Godyssey Corporation in the attempt to make it seem like someone actually gives a damn about the weird guy standing in the little room on top of the North East Clock Tower.

People inside the lab have smart mouths of their own, he muses, despite the kind of firepower he has at his command. The clock tower tells the time and Rennin always smirks when he thinks that it also tells the time of death for anyone Caufmann orders taken down.

Not that the white-coats ever know how or when their co-workers expire, but sometimes the anonymity excites Rennin to the point of feeling a pulse at the front of his pants. Time up, my friend.

He’s technically a security guard but sometimes he feels more like a hitman. He is in charge of opening and closing the front gates, and of executing any of the staff that attempt to flout their contract. Any scientist attempting to escape while working on secret projects are put down. Though ‘escape’ is not the word he was told. In fact he can’t recall the word Caufmann used when describing this job to him.

Secrecy is of top priority to Godyssey, and Rennin is in charge of enforcing it. He has the choice of using a turret defence system or his sniper rifle. He’s only had to shoot two so far.

That’s not so bad , I killed dozens upon dozens during the war.

Twenty years ago, he was just a pissed off kid. Now Rennin is in his mid forties, though maintaining his fitness keeps him looking early thirties on a good day. So he tells himself.

The door to the clock tower flies up into the bulkhead, revealing the spiral staircase that snakes up three floors to the lookout. After the climb, he opens the door to see the empty chair usually occupied by his ex co-worker, Wayne Carr. Rennin smirks, Wanker .

That’s what actually started the fight.

Rennin laughs at how it’s such a juvenile reason to get upset. Just by increasing the speed of saying Wayne Carr really got his colleague worked up. Rennin has no doubt that it is merely repressed anger from school.

The watchman settles in his chair on the left, allowing himself to sink into the seat. Should be a breeze with no idiots around asking to be made fun of.

Three hours later, Rennin is back in Caufmann’s office.

The doctor looks even less impressed than before, but surprisingly no worse for wear. Suddenly Rennin isn’t so sure Caufmann ever sleeps.

Occasionally Rennin has radioed Caufmann at ridiculous hours of the morning drunk out of his skull just to play the latest amusing music video he’s found on the Solarnet.

“You want company up there now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Caufmann scoffs, “Denied.”

“Why?”

“You might think I’m stupid but my salary suggests otherwise—”

Rennin interjects, “Money isn’t everything.”

“—and I know you only want someone else to bait and mentally torment until another inevitable fight breaks out,” says Caufmann, smoothly overriding the watchman.

“Your powers of deduction leave me awed, sir.”

Caufmann stares at Rennin for a long moment, “Very well. There’s an android I need to test domestically, I’ll have him over there by the time you return.” He taps a few buttons on his wrist. Rennin peers curiously at the communication gauntlet, sure he has never seen one that looks so imbedded before. Rennin can’t tell whether the interface is built into his body or if the whole arm is synthetic. Caufmann pulls his right sleeve back down to cover it.

“What android, sir?” the watchman asks, returning his attention to the subject at hand.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am not in the Army? You do not have to address me as ‘sir’ at any time, ever.”

“It helps me sleep at night.”

Caufmann closes his eyes for a moment, willing his patience to hold firm, “Listen, Ren, I need you to be sharp out there. If you go through the motions with this android I’ll see what I can do to get you a partner.”

Rennin believes it would be easier not to call him sir if only Caufmann didn’t sound so much like a soldier at times. “It’s not the most absorbing job.” Most of the time.

“Particularly over the next few weeks.”

“What’s happening in the next few weeks?”

“Just with all the Gorai Aurelia activity in town.”

Rennin snorts, “I’m amazed a faction like that has the balls to show their faces in public. Most of the people here still remember the day the GA attacked this city.”

“Well they have the right to protest whatever they see fit. They’re non-militant now, either way.”

“It still gets stuck in my craw a little, sir.”

“There is a little something you can do for me, Ren. Off the record.”

Rennin arches an eyebrow, “Oh? No problem. I hope it’s outside working hours.”

“Are you finished?”

“No.”

“I need someone killed.”

Rennin’s banter ceases and his face turns completely placid, “Say again? I’m not actually an assassin, you realise. The white coats, sure, I get that. You don’t have to be a genius to know that what you guys are cooking up below shouldn’t be allowed out at all. But if this is a civvie, I—”

“This isn’t a human. There’s some kind of android loitering around with the Gorai Aurelia activists.”

“Aren’t androids banned here? And why the GA? They hate them.”

“Smoking is banned in the clock tower, but you do it. By sabotaging the smoke detection unit, no less.”

Rennin feels a hot flush under his collar. “That’s not exactly the same thing. Not even in principle. Either way, what is something like that doing near the Gorai? Wouldn’t those luddites smash it?”

“I don’t know, but I need it destroyed. I don’t care if you take it out from the tower or walk right up and take its head off.”

“From the clock tower? You mean just in case it waltzes by sometime during my shift? Get the Horizon Military.”

“It’s trying to break into the lab. That makes it an in-house problem in my view. If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine, I’ll take other measures,” says Caufmann in a darkly quiet way.

Rennin suppresses a shiver, “Do I want to know more?”

“No.”

Rennin nods, more to himself than Caufmann, “It’s a combat model, then.”

“Not originally, but it is now.”

“What type?”

“Didn’t I tell you that you don’t want to know more?”

“If I know its type it’ll make it easier to take down.”

“Chassis type is unknown. Possibly a Progenitor Class.”

Rennin’s interest is definitely piqued, “A rogue Progenitor Class? That thing must be ancient. And worth a fortune.”

“To a collector , yes.”

“You could get a small army willing to take it down just to keep its parts.”

“Yes but we don’t want that technology in anyone’s hands but ours. I need it killed, then our men will retrieve the body and disassemble it.”