When the rains may come (Science Fiction)

64. The Message

The Orzstok helicopter landed on the roof of the National Broadcast headquarters in Kingsville. Men in kevlar armors and plexiglass helmets hopped out, assault rifles in hand.

They took down the terrace door with a battering ram and descended down the stairs and into the main building. The man leading them in was Dulvers.

The panic began the moment the employees noticed the armed gunmen arrive. The men in kevlar fired shots at the ceiling.

The collective panic went up. More kevlar clad gunners charged through the main gates and blocked all the entrances.

"No one's gonna move!" Dulvers growled and fired a few more shots as he walked into the lobby.

About thirty operatives had invaded the building from the front gates. Ten others had arrived by the Orzstok.

Dulvers and nine others were on crowd control. The remaining thirty had secured the main gates and blocked all exits.

The operatives with crowd control duty rounded up all the employees into the big courtyard at the center of the building.

Dulvers watched as two other operatives declared all employees to surrender their cellphones. They carried two big garbage bags in one hand and aimed their hand guns at the employees with the other. Most employees dropped their phones into the bag out of fear. The more heroic ones who tried to resist had the pistol fired near their ears, deafening them temporarily while their cellphones snatched out of their pockets.

It had taken less than fifteen minutes to cut all individual communication to the outside world.

Five minutes later, Ian Harper dragged the editor in chief towards Dulvers. "This is the man in charge of everything, Steve Nelson."

Dulvers nodded at the man. "You must've read news in front of a camera yourself as a rookie, haven't you?"

Nelson nodded hesitantly.

"Good, we want you to read a bit of news we wanna broadcast tonight," Dulvers said. "Gather a crew and prepare the set. Let's have a jolly good show."

#

Command was back in the hallway she'd been in five months ago. Inside the main building of the High House of Justice, on the same bench she'd been in five months ago, awaiting another trial, dreading to face the Council of Firsts. But something was different this time.

Catharine Dale was right next to her, sipping noisily from a box of orange juice. "I bet you are feeling dumb, aren't you?"

Command sighed.

"You probably thought you were really smart, probably thought you and Luce had everything under control," Dale had spared everyone the sight of her wacky wardrobe choices for that day. She simply wore her clandestine blacks with the lapels and hem of her skirt lined with red. It was mandatory for officers of her stature to dress in their proper uniforms. "It's not your fault that you were unlucky. I bet you knew you both were shivering each time you saw me come to your office."

Command wanted to groan. But more than anything she wanted to punch this bitch square in the face.

Yes, the clandestines had succeeded in their mission. They had finally uncovered Command's secrets. They had arrested her straight from her office that day.

They hadn't even allowed her to see her family. And she was sure, the matter was so serious they weren't gonna tell her son and husband why she was being tried.

"You didn't even think of anyone other than yourself," Dale said. "All those agents will lose their jobs. You'll get old in a prison with at least a roof over your head. But in our current economy, they will barely land the job of a dishwasher at a restaurant."