Splintered Humanity:
Superiority Complex
part 1
By
Jeremy Mombourquette
The boots echoed in the hallway.
The clean hallway.
The boots echoed in the utterly, perfectly, clean hallway.
The sound of footsteps reverberated down the corridors lined in bright silver steel, and walls painted pure virginal white. He was alone to his thoughts, the man who was the source of the echo. He walked with a purpose, and walked with his head held high. His uniform was spotless, crests and awards on his chest, his sword of rank held in its scabbard to his side. As he walked, his gaze fell upon each mosaic as it appeared, one after the other. Each painting told the story of the Church. Each told of the origin, the destiny, and the death of those who served the Church of Saint George; this was who Sir Lucas of Gawain served. He served the church with a violent fervor, because that’s what his father would have wanted him to do.
Two monks appeared walking in the opposite direction that Sir Lucas was taking. The monks are draped in drab and coarse brown robes, their heads are held low in prayer. Quiet chanting could be heard, prayers from days long ago. Neither of them looked up to address the knight, but Sir Lucas gave them a curt nod. The rules of rank didn’t prohibit the lack of address for either, the monks or the knight, each were of the same rank within the church. Sir Lucas focused on the war that was waged on the battlefields. The monks on the other hand, the monks waged their war for the control of the souls of the faithful, and non-faithful alike. Their footsteps are silent, and as Sir Lucas passes them, their memory fades from his consciousness as quickly as it appeared.
Sir Lucas could see the door ahead of him, the office of his Highness Lord Protector Albert of Gallahad. Sir Lucas was summoned three days prior from his space colony thirteen parsecs away from Angelous 1, the main colony for the Church of Saint George. To be summoned by the Lord Protector himself is a great honor, and there was no information which was available for why he was being summoned. Rumors had been circulating amongst the serfs and squires of support being needed on Earth. It was also rumored that the missions that were being built to help recolonize parts of the planet, parts long forgotten, had been under siege from Reichstag. Sir Lucas didn’t like to live amongst rumors though, because his purpose was to serve his superiors and his God. Those who didn’t allow him to do either were free to be crushed under the foot of righteousness.
He could see the door to the Lord Protector’s office a few hundred feet away. A network of corridors branched out before it, the office door stood there perfectly silent, sentient even. If one were allowed the opportunity, given that it was held in strict secrecy, one could see that the headquarters for the Church was built in the shape of a large cross, an archaic religious symbol that was held in nostalgia more than anything else. More monks walked between the hallways, and one or two serfs darted between offices held in the corridors. Each person Sir Lucas now encountered acknowledged his presence, almost as if they expected to see him. In respect, he also acknowledged these mysterious underlings, but thought nothing of it. He had more pressing matters on his hands.
As he stepped before the Lord Protector’s office, he couldn’t help but notice the intricate work done on the doorframe. The frame was inlaid in gold flakes, with carvings of the entire history of the Church all along the edge. It was beautiful in scope, but pointless in execution. Then again, Sir Lucas thought, even if there were pressing matters such as the lack of available resources and attacks from Reichstag, the Lord Protector at the very least should be allowed a nice doorframe. His duty was to his God, and God made Albert Lord Protector, Sir Lucas had to honor that. If he didn’t, he didn’t honor his God, and that was blasphemy.
There was a scanner on the side of the door, and Sir Lucas placed his hand on top of it. He could feel the warmth of the scanner’s light as it activated and scanned over each nook and cranny of his palm, every swirl of his fingerprint, every scar or callous he ever received while on the field of combat. As suddenly as it grew warm, it just as suddenly grew cold. There was a quick silence as the computer analyzed the data, and the door opened with a slight buzz. The two panels that made up the door itself separated and opened, the smell of incense seeped through the open entrance. A door that opened in this fashion allowed for much more security than one without, much like the doors which led to the offices of many of the squires. Anyone could theoretically walk into the offices they controlled, mainly because there was nothing of extreme confidential purposes held inside. They were mainly offices which dealt in low level record keeping and ordering, nothing too important. As Sir Lucas walked into the Lord Protector’s office, stepping over the threshold, the computer announced his presence.
“Announcing Sir Lucas of Gawain, knight of the third degree, pilot of a Paladin X-23 class suit. Son of Sir Marcus of Gawain, His Excellency Justicar of Colony 21, pilot of a Cleric Y-17 class suit.”
A mousy looking squire sat behind a desk as Sir Lucas entered. The squire immediately rose to his feet and saluted.
“Sir Lucas, welcome sir.” The squire yelped.
Sir Lucas looked about the room, and it wasn’t exactly what he expected of the Lord Protector’s office. Books lined all of the walls, there were hundreds of them. Even the wall with a window looking out to the front courtyard was lined in books. Books were exceptionally obsolete, but they were also very rare, and very expensive. Sir Lucas was amazed. Walking to the closest wall he scanned the titles. Shakespeare. Thoreau. Shelley. Walt Whitman. Charles Dickens. Tolstoy. Classics. Another shelf had works on ancient knowledges and histories, everything pre-Hand of God. Archaic history. Ancient history.
“Sir, the Lord Protector is waiting to see you.” The mousy squire said quietly, “You can walk in whenever you are ready.” His voice sounded unsure, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should be saying anything at all.
“Thank you.” Sir Lucas finally voiced as he turned around towards the squire, “You may sit down.”
“Thank you sir. Thank you!” The squire immediately sat down and quickly began to return to whatever he was working on when Sir Lucas walked in.
The door that led to the Lord Protector’s office didn’t have a scanner like the office proper, but instead opened as soon as Sir Lucas stepped towards it. He had an appointment, and it was already programmed to prepare for his DNA and scanner signature as soon as he stepped near it during the designated time. As the door opened, he couldn’t help but notice that even more books lined the Lord Protectors “hidden sanctum”. Sir Lucas was officially, and undeniably, impressed.
There was a venerable old man sitting behind the desk looking down at, again, another book. Walking into the office itself, Sir Lucas quietly stood in front of the desk awaiting the Lord Protector’s acknowledgement of his presence. In the meantime, he gazed around the room. There were few, if any, maps or charts, or computer screens which read the latest information on recent goings on. Even the communication terminal which led to the King’s office, one of the only two direct lines to the King, was placed aside and out of the way, mixed with various books which had something to do with eastern philosophy and meditation. Sir Lucas was puzzled by this, but he was not expected to question, only act. He continued to wait.
“Hence the general who is skilful in attack whose opponent does not know what to defend; and he is skilful in defense whose opponent does not know what to attack.” The Lord Protector finally spoke up.
Sir Lucas walked up to the Lord Protector and kissed him on the ring, the necessary greeting for meeting someone such high ranking. Sir Lucas also gave a courteous bow and waited until he was granted the time to speak.
“That quote was from a man named Sun Tzu, one of histories, Earth’s history namely, military minds. We could take much from him, could we not?”
“Yes sir.” Sir Lucas finally replied with a nod.
“He was a great man, a great, great man.” The Lord Protector quipped; Sir Lucas was beginning to wonder if the Lord Protector was starting to go senile. “You see, warfare is not about who wins, and who loses, it’s about the outcome it has on history. The Hand of God meteor for instance, did it really matter what happened before that? Who won what wars, who initiated peace treaties, or who was the most powerful person on the planet?”
“No sir.”
“No, it didn’t. What mattered is what occurred after. History is made up of such follies. One simple wrench in the overall plans reduces man’s achievements to nil. Your father was not that type of man, was he son?” the Lord Protector stated as he walked around his desk and sat on the edge.
“I wouldn’t know my lord, I barely remember him.” Sir Lucas’ tone was scripted, rehearsed, far from organic.
“Your father was a great man. I served with him in the peacekeeping missions along the Rhime Rim. It was tough, but your father served with a just and righteous hand. May the lord bless him.”
“May the Lord bless him.” Sir Lucas repeated the prayer.
“It was such a shame he left us. He could have gone very far, very far indeed in the Church.” The Lord Protector’s voice was shallow, soulless, when he made this particular comment.
The words immediately angered Sir Lucas, but he said nothing. The anger just seethed underneath the surface like molten lava slowly boiling beneath the ocean. Years ago, before Sir Lucas was barely ten, the patriarch Sir Marcus was killed. Details were sketchy, but it was said that he was on a mission in the Rim with the Lord Protector, years before his promotion. Sir Lucas knew that his father and the Lord Protector trained and grew up together, but not much else beyond that. The Lord Protector on that day was the lone witness to what occurred, the lone survivor in other words. He revealed to his then superiors that the two of them, he and Sir Marcus, were alone on a mission fishing out insurgents in a small colony along the northwestern side of the Rim. As they entered a warehouse they were ambushed by a group of five insurgents. They fought their hearts out, downing a few of them as they attacked, but Sir Marcus was not so lucky. As he was fighting an insurgent, Sir Marcus died as one came from behind and slit his throat. The Lord Protector was the only one who walked out alive, somehow he managed to kill the rest of the insurgents himself.
The one thought Sir Lucas couldn’t shake though, why would his father and the Lord Protector fish out a group of insurgents alone? Why would they do this when their ranks at the time allowed them the chance to stay on base and have lower ranking knights do it? And why were they alone, and where was the cadre of knights that they should have had supporting them? Sir Lucas always had questions, but he was never allowed the opportunity to voice them. Whenever he did, the answers were never to his liking. But, the sad part of it all was that he had to accept these tenants as the truth. It was God’s will.
“I have a mission for you son.” The Lord Protector quietly stated as he stood up, Sir Lucas didn’t hear the previous statements due to his wandering mind lost in angered thoughts.
“Yes sir.” Sir Lucas finally came to in time to prevent the Lord Protector’s wrath for insubordination.
“We have a diplomatic mission on Earth. As you know, after the Hand of God, the world went into ruins. The populace which survived went into chaos, all forms of government fell, resources dried up, and those who survived perished. Well, life has a habit of renewing itself, and the environment is finally stable enough for recolinization to take place. We would like you too meet up with members of the Tribe of Four Winds. If our missions are to succeed, we will need the support of their people. We want you to garner their support, and their trust. We need them as our allies before Reichstag gets to them.”
“But sir, may I speak freely?” Sir Lucas finally had the courage to do this, to speak up.
“You may.”
“I do not have the skills of diplomacy that your clerics have. Wouldn’t they be more primed to this task?”
“You are not aware of the capabilities of the Four Winds are you?”
“No sir.” Sir Lucas said curtly.
“The Four Winds are a barbaric people, a proud people. Though they are infidels, they will require someone of strength to lead them to righteousness. But, we need their help and support. If we can win them over with strength, then we will win them overall. To convert them takes time, but we can do it. Understood?” the Lord Protector spoke as if God were speaking from within him. “But, our first priority is their alliance of course.”
“I will do my best sir.” Sir Lucas said in a bow.
“I bet you will my son, I bet you will.” The Lord Protector paused, then continued, “You will be leaving by drop ship in three days. Have you suit, and your squire ready in the meantime.”
“Yes my lord.”
“May the lord be with you.” The Lord Protector stated as he grasped Sir Lucas’ shoulder.
“And with you my lord.” Sir Lucas grasped the Lord Protector’s shoulder.
***
The music in the club throbbed. The lights flashed.
Bodies rubbed and grinded amongst body. The music pumped through the floor through speakers built within the tiles. Each panel bounced first from the music, then from the dancers. The crowd was packed on this night, and there was barely enough room to move to the bar. The waitresses whirled around the patrons wearing little but a bra and tight shorts, their hair kept up in multi-colored ponytails, or just in plain Mohawks, some had no hair at all. They were professionals in this business; you had to be these days.
One in particular grabbed two drinks from the equally lack in dress bartender. They were strong drinks, you could tell from the neon color, not many strong drinks around CPU-17 involved non-neon coloration. The bartender nodded to the waitress, and the waitress handed him a credit chip, this was the payment for the drinks. The credits far exceeded the price, but the VIP the waitress was serving was known for this. He tipped well, and that meant he got the very best when he came with his entourage.
The waitress grabbed the drinks and placed them on the tray she held and hurried back into the crowd. The VIP may have been a good tipper, but he was a very particular customer, he wanted the drinks quickly. She weaved in between dancers, couples making out on the dance floor, wannabes hitting on women they have no chance with, and drug dealers doing their thing incognito. As she made her way to the VIP lounge, she could see her target sitting down with two women who were wearing what seemed like poorly fitting lingerie on each side of him.
“I have your drinks sir.” She said with a flirtatious tone.
“Thanks.” The VIP snapped as he grabbed them, “It took you long enough.”
“It’s busy.”
“It took too long.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“You better.”
The VIP handed the two drinks to the girls and kissed each one on the lips, his tongue making its way into each of their mouths. He sat back looking to his two bodyguards as they stood next to the couch, there was no way in Hell anyone was getting close to him. He was having a good time, and when he got back to his place he was going to be having an even better time.
“Mr. Akira Tokugawa.” A voice said as in the shadows, and form came forward closer to the couch.
One of the bodyguards moved forward, his sheer size dwarfed the much shorter shadow who stood at about five foot eleven. The other bodyguard moved to the others side. Each was ready for anything, and they were both ready to die for their patron.
“I have a business proposition for you.” The shadow stated coyly.
Akira paused.
“Let him in.” Akira motioned to the two bodyguards. He didn’t have to state it twice, each bodyguard moved back to his original placement.
The shadow moved into the light, and Akira could finally see that he was wearing a crisp new uniform, too new for his liking, but new nevertheless. It was a Reichstag officer, and a very well decorated one too. He was instantaneously interested in what this supposed “deal” entailed now.
“They call me Neo.” Akira spoke in a cocky tone, his legs crossing as he lounged back, his feet resting on the table in front of him. The two girls laughed.
“Taking a name from a twentieth century piece of pop-culture, cute.” The officer stated as he sat on the table, moving Akira’s legs out of the way.
“Take it, or leave it.” Akira stated angrily as he sat up a bit. His gaze was on the officer, and the weapon he had hidden under his coat.
“I hear you’re the best hired gun around.”
To be continued….
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