Creyson Parthy & The Trojan Attack by Richard Bailey
Chapter Eight
‘Detained’
The doors glided open effortlessly, unlike the frightened passengers who surged from the carriage desperate to abandon the ill-fated tram. I sat in my seat, waiting for the initial rush to pass before finally making my way onto the platform.
I remained with the discombobulated crowd, uncertain what course of action to take. The only method of transport in and out of Trans Central was the tram network, without it, I had no way of entering the capital. Other passengers around me seemed to be debating the same issue.
“Hello,” called a voice I recognised. I scanned the crowd to find Kron bounding towards me.
“Kron?”
“Oh, it’s nice to see a familiar face.” He spoke as if we were good friends. “What happened to the tram?” he asked.
“I don…”
“We’re not allowed to leave the station. Every exit is blocked.”
“Why are…”
“Are you hurt?” I found the question odd.
“Hurt?”
“Your neck.”
I was still massaging it.
“Oh, erm... Just a bit of whiplash,” It was my turn to ask a question. “Kron, why can’t you leave the station?”
“I don’t know. They keep stopping us. I’ve tried three times. How am I meant to get to work?
“I’m sure that….”
“Do you think we’ll receive some kind of compensation?”
I humoured him, “Perhaps.”
“I suppose you’re not going to make it to Trans Central after all.” There was a hint of worry in his voice that I found unusual considering he didn’t know me.
“I’m sure they’ll set up some other mode of transport.” I was attempting to remain upbeat but gathering from Kron’s facial expression my comment had not gone down well. He looked more than a little jumpy.
“But it won’t get you there in time.”
“In time for what?”
“Whatever it is you need to do. I’m sure you have to be there on time, don’t you? People are expecting you to be there on time.”
“Don’t worry Kron. It’ll be okay.
“It won’t. One job, I have one job.”
“I’m sure they won’t sack you for being late, not considering the circumstances.”
“Not that job, this one.”
“Kron, what are you talking about?”
“I need to do something.” He grabbed my wrist. “Let’s go.” He began pulling me away from the crowd.
“Wait!” He ignored my plea “Where are we going?”
“We’re getting out of here.” It seemed blind panic had taken over Kron’s senses.
I continued to protest. “You said we couldn’t get out.”
He paused. “There’s always a way, I just need to think.”
I forcibly pulled my wrist free from his grip. A spark of suspicion ignited in my head and I started to doubt Kron’s motives.
“Well I think I’d rather stay here.”
“But...” He glanced at the crowd, perhaps trying to decide whether he wanted to cause a scene. All I knew was that wherever he was trying to take me, I didn’t want to go.
“Fine,” he finally conceded. “Oh, he won’t be happy, won’t be happy at all,” he said under his breath.
“What? Who won’t be happy?”
“You can’t stop it, Creyson; He’ll make sure of it”
I took a step backwards.
“I never told you my name.”
He didn’t respond; instead he spun on the spot and ran away, disappearing into the crowd.
“Kron,” I called, but he was gone.
I was tempted to chase after him, but Kron’s speedy exit had drawn the prying eyes of fellow commuters who stared at me with curious suspicion. Not wanting to invite more attention; I opted to remain where I was.
The encounter with Kron had made me jittery. Finding a quiet bench away from the main congregation, I took a seat and waited for an official announcement.
I’d been so focused on the chaos of the crowd, and Kron’s random appearance, I hadn’t noticed the numerous military personnel situated around the station platform. When a situation of turmoil presents itself, you look to people of authority for support and guidance. These soldiers, however, appeared detached and unapproachable.
They carried intimidating weapons called Jolts. They’re long black sticks with a silver metal ball at the end. These devices give an electrical charge that could bring down the largest of individuals; a continuous blast could be lethal. No doubt they were using these Jolts to enforce crowd control if the circumstance required. This was my second encounter with the military in less than a day, and that made me nervous.
Several people attempted to converse with the soldiers, seeking answers, but they were dismissed or simply ignored.
One soldier in particular stood out, another familiar face. You’d think that would have made me feel secure, but this face made me uneasy. Junior Commander Fray Tork. His neck stretched to its limit, he perused the crowd before locking his eyes on me.
My anxiety increased as the imposing soldier advanced towards my bench. I had nowhere to run, and I couldn’t avoid the encounter.
“Creyson Parthy,” announced Tork in an official, business-like manner, stopping less than two paces away.
“Hello Commander Tork.” I responded apprehensively.
“Just the person I was looking for.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. “Come with me, please.”
Letting go, he began to walk away. I didn’t move.
“Why?” I enquired.
He stopped and turned back to me. “Because I’m ordering you to.”
I pride myself on my ability to read people, but reading Tork was exceptionally difficult. His expression remained blank, his eyes emotionless, and his body rigid.
“Today, Mr Parthy.”
“But…”
Before I could question him further, he marched away. Like Kron, he was trying to get me out of the station, but I had more faith in a Junior Commander than a peculiar stranger with a hidden agenda.
With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I quickly followed, attempting to keep up with his rapid pace.
“Where are we going?” I sounded childish.
“My orders are to collect you from the station and escort you to a classified location.” He glanced back at me. “Keep up please.” I complied.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“Surveillance footage showed you boarding the tram at Lincoll Station.”
“You’re watching me?”
He turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. “We watch everyone, Mr Parthy.”
In life, there are many things I want to do; I want to paint a world famous picture. I want to invent something amazing. I want to have a family. Being led away by the military to a classified location was not on the list. I’d done nothing wrong, I’d not committed any crime, yet I was being detained.
If my resolve had been stronger or if I’d maybe had some of Zeal’s confidence, I would have questioned the order and demanded to know the reason for my detention. However, that wasn’t me. I’m an upstanding citizen who follows orders and obeys the rules. If Tork wanted me to go with him, then that’s what I would do.
The Commander made his way through the crowd towards the station exit. His presence was so imposing the throng of travellers parted before him. I couldn’t deny the soldier was impressive. I trailed in his wake like a young Lag following its mother.
A citizen being escorted by a Junior Commander had not gone unnoticed by the passengers of the tram. They fell silent as they watched a single Valiron being led away. I passed Kron who looked on, not with an expression of suspicion, but more of apprehension; I doubted his anxiety was for my well-being.
We lived in uncertain times; distrust and speculation were rife. My story would spread across Valiros. I could see the news report,
Keeping my eyes on the ground, I followed Tork out of the station.
Although I had no idea where I was being taken, I was relieved to be outside, away from the accusing glances.
The tram had returned to a station in a small village called Lucor, home of Miss Trun and her eyewitness report. I’d visited the village with my mother a few weeks before she’d vanished. She was born in Lucor and had lived here for nearly two cycles before being relocated to Danton and bonded with my father.
I remembered the village being a colourful place, bustling with activity. Lucor was famous for its friendly residents and party atmosphere. The lanes were lined with cafes and restaurants; I remembered street sellers on every corner, and a joyous atmosphere that coursed through the village. But on this day there were no street sellers, no packed cafes, no laughter or joy. The streets were void of life, with the exception of the soldiers.
A bulky military vehicle, similar in design to the one Zeal and I had encountered the previous day, was parked outside the entrance to the station. Tork opened one of the doors and gestured me to get inside. I wanted to turn and run away; I wanted to be a face lost in the crowd.
“Mr Parthy,” he stressed, his voice carrying an immense deal of authority, “please get in.”
I couldn’t read him, but I could read between the lines. What Tork actually said was, ‘Get in the vehicle or we’ll make you.’
Even if I had been braver, I didn’t stand a chance of escaping. If I tried, I’d more than likely have a Jolt plunged into my back and my unconscious body would be carried into the military vehicle. My options were limited to one. I obeyed Tork’s command and entered the machine.
He slammed the door shut slightly harder than necessary. The loud bang made my nerves jump.
The vehicle was as unattractive on the inside as it was on the out. Two metal benches ran parallel to each other, designed slightly too narrow to be comfortable. The framework was welded together and appeared crude. No attempt had been made to hide the working parts of the machine, exposing bolts, chains and cogs. There were two circular windows either side of my bench. Each window was covered with a metal grate that allowed hardly any light to penetrate its interior. The vehicle was clearly not built with comfort in mind.
The driver’s door swung open, and Tork took his place behind the controls. He flicked a switch and two metal plates dropped from the ceiling covering the windows completely. An internal red light flicked on above my head. Its dull glow offered little illumination.
“Get comfortable,” said Tork with no hint of amusement.
“Do you know what happened to the tram?” I was unable to hide the apprehension in my voice.
“Technical difficulties” he said without hesitation. It was a standard answer when you didn’t want to give the real reason. Tork was lying. ‘Technical difficulties’ was public relations jargon for, ‘We don’t want to tell you the truth.’
Before I could say anything else, the machine rumbled to life, the engine causing the metal framework to vibrate. The heavy vehicle pulled away with so much acceleration the velocity pinned me to the back of my cold metal seat.
After a few moments, I spoke again. “Where are you taking me?”
“A classified location”
“Where is it?”
“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a classified location now, would it?”
“I suppose not.”
A couple of minutes passed before he spoke again.
“How’s your life partner?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Feisty girl, sort of annoying. Zeal, was it?”
“Oh her. Erm...yes, she’s fine.” My delayed response had given Tork all he needed.
“Ah. Told a little lie, did you?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it a lie, more of an exaggeration.”
“But she’s not your life partner, is she?”
All bondings are recorded and logged. It would have been easy for Tork to confirm my bonded status, so lying further seemed futile. Biting my lip, I plumped for honesty. I wasn’t sure how much trouble my confession would cause but considering I was already detained and being taken to a secret location, the risk seemed worth it for a clear conscience.
“I thought you were going to take her away.”
“I was. You must really like her.” His statement took me by surprise.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
I heard him chuckle. “Who are you trying to fool?”
“Sir?”
“Lying to the military is serious business. You could have got yourself into a lot of trouble. You don’t take that sort of risk for someone you don’t have feelings for.” His words gave me cause to pause.
“Like I said, it wasn’t really a lie. We are due to be bonded, but things have taken a little longer than usual."
“Well you better do it soon; otherwise you may be spending a lot of time in a vehicle just like this one.” If this was Tork’s attempt at humour, I was not amused.
Not wanting to discuss my forced bonding, or potential military career further, I chose to keep quiet for the remainder of the journey.
After a brief silence, Tork suddenly spoke. “We have company.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re being followed.”
I looked through the dividing perspex shield between the front and rear compartments of the military machine. A small screen in the centre of the dashboard showed an image that must have been transmitted from a camera at the back of the vehicle.
The pursuer was a slick, black vehicle with silver windows and a body that was low to the ground. It looked like the sort of thing a villain would drive.
“How do you know they’re following us?”
“They’ve been on our tail since the station. I’ve taken a few random turns to see if they’d follow.”
The picture began to get bigger.
“Why are you zooming in?”
“I’m not zooming, they’re getting closer. Hold on.”
I scanned the compartment and took hold of a metal pipe running across the ceiling. The vehicle unexpectedly lurched to the right, followed by an increase in speed. I lost my grip on the pipe and banged into the dividing shield.
“I said hold on,” Tork barked.
“I’m trying,” I shouted back as I pulled myself back onto the bench.
We swerved again, this time to the left, and I heard the wheels skidding on the ground. With no windows, I had no idea what was happening.
“Uh-oh,” Tork whispered.
“Uh-oh?”
“It’s going to get a little bumpy,” Tork warned
“What do you mean ‘going to’?”
The entire vehicle pitched forward, and I felt the back lift off the ground then clang back onto the road.
“What was that?”
“They just rammed us.”
“Who?”
“Whoever’s after you.”
“People are after me?”
“Really not the time for questions Mr Parthy.”
I saw Tork jam the steering lever hard to the right, and we suddenly broke into a spin, turning at least one hundred and ninety degrees. My stomach flipped, and I felt bile gathering in my mouth. We stopped for an instant, before racing off again.
“Time to go off road.”
We tilted to the right again, and I could feel the ground beneath us change from smooth to rugged.
I waited for a minute, catching my breath. “Is it over?”
“I think we lost them. You still in one piece?”
“Just about.”
I was too distressed to speak. We spent the subsequent twenty minutes in silence. Every jolt and twist pulsated through the metal bench and travelled through my body. Pins and needles surged down my legs and into my feet. No matter how hard I tried, I was unable to get comfortable. My head knocked against the back panel with every bump, and I slid up and down the bench every time the vehicle took a bend slightly too quickly. No windows meant I had no idea where we were or even which direction we were travelling in. Eventually, and to my delight, we came to a halt.
“This is your stop, Mr Parthy.”
I didn’t move. “And where’s that?”
“That classified location I was talking about.”
“Why am I here?”
“All I know Mr Parthy is that a lot of important people want to talk to you.”
“I’m nobody.”
“Well from what I gather, you’re the most important nobody in Valiros. Now get out.”
I didn’t want to open the door. I didn’t want to see what fate awaited me beyond the relative safety of the military machine. This may not make sense, but I enjoy imagining the unknown but dislike the practicality of experiencing it. I guess you could say I wanted to discover new things, provided I knew what those new things were.
Tork stepped out of the vehicle then made his way around to my door. He swung it open, and the compartment was flooded with light. Having adjusted to the relative darkness of my accommodation the sudden influx of light burnt my eyes.
Tork’s large frame was silhouetted against the bright artificial lighting. “I don’t have all day,” he said sternly. I was fearful, and for a moment, the Commander’s demeanour changed.
“There’s no need to be afraid.” This flash of thoughtfulness was touching. I believed him.
I stepped out of the vehicle, squinting against the glare. Tork was not alone; another figure stood before me. It was yet another familiar face.
“Welcome Mr Parthy. Ready for your first day?” asked Minister Drake.