[Sf] [MC] Upworld (T)

Yep, I decided to do a dystopian story. I don't know what else to say, so enjoy!
Prologue

Not since the Industrial Revolution of the 19th century has an event shaped human existence so much. All cultures around the world are still effected by the changes brought on by the Third World War, even now, hundreds of years after it’s conclusion.
- from The Last War published 2346, by Dr. James Fife; Head of the Shelter 417 Department of Archives and Records

Taka Hikowa dangled from a thin wire, with over a mile of open space beneath her. She pressed close to the white metal surface of the skyscraper. She was hanging from just one structure in the forest of inverted skyscrapers that made up the Upper City, all of which hung from Shelter 417’s ceiling like massive steel and glass stalactites. She pressed a button on the wire’s winch control, lowering her a few feet closer to the sprawl of smaller buildings far below on the Shelter’s floor. She finally stopped in front of a window, and brought out a glass cutter from her belt. She flicked a lock of her dark, shoulder-length hair away and tapped her ear, activating her radio.

“Hey, Kestrel.” she addressed her partner warmly as she began cutting a circular hole in the glass. “I’m beginning entry now. How’re things on your end?”

“I’m having trouble with this damn computer.” Kyle Kestrel replied. “I’m gonna have to crack the system myself; the codes that hacker sold us don’t work. At least the Agency is paying the guy’s bill for us.”

“Quit complaining.” Hikowa rebuked with an air of annoyance. “Your not the one hanging thousands of feet in the air.”

“Yeah, well…oh, wait a minute, I think I got it. Yeah, there we go. Ok, security system is disabled; all camera’s and sensors are shut down. I’ve also locked down this section of the building; they won’t be able to run off like they did with the SPD. I’ll meet up with you at the rally point.”

She clicked off the radio and climbed through the hole she had cut, finding herself in a lab. The room was filled with all manner of scientific machines, none of which Hikowa could identify. She drew her phase pistol and cautiously opened the door. She continued down the hall, when she suddenly heard the whirr of a door opening to her left. She quickly spun and leveled her pistol as a figure emerged from a nearby door.

“Little jumpy, eh?” Kestrel said, and amused grin lighting his face. Like Hikowa, he was dressed in normal civilian clothing; this was an undercover mission after all.

“Otoshigo!” she cursed, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. “Kimi odorokimasu watashi!”

“If you feel the need to admonish me, do it in English.” he said chidingly. “Now, if you’re done with nearly shooting me, can we continue?”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a sheepish grin, then turned and continued walking down the hallway. They came to a stop in front of door. Voices emanated from behind it; they were too faint to make out, but Hikowa estimated there were about three separate speakers. Silently, she pulled a breaching charge off her belt and planted it on the lock. Kestrel readied a stun grenade.

“Let’s keep the weapons on stun this time.” he whispered, adjusting his phase pistol. “I really don’t want to loose a week’s pay again. Ready when you are.”

She armed the breach charge, then stepped back way from the door. With a muffled boom and a hail of sparks, the door fell inward. Kestrel quickly lobbed the flash grenade through the doorway. Hikowa waited a moment then burst through the doorway.

“ISA!” she shouted, raising her pistol and badge simultaneously. “On the ground, now!”

There were two men and a woman in the room, all blindly stumbling about. One charged toward Hikowa, but fell to a paralyzed heap when Hikowa fired a trio of azure stun bolts into his chest. The woman attempted to flee, but in her blind state ran head on into a wall. The final man had recovered from the flash grenade quicker than the others. He drew a projectile pistol from his belt and aimed it at Hikowa, but fell in a hail of stun bolts from Kestrel.

“Doctors Angus Dillon, Hoshi Fujikawa, and Immanuel Hurst, you are all under arrest by the authority of the Internal Security Agency. You are charged with authoring seditious libel as well as attempted subversion of the Shelter 417 Provisional Government.” Kestrel boomed. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights?”

“We have made no seditious speech.” One of the men said as he was being handcuffed. “We’re physicists, not anarchists! All we did was publish a paper on radioactive decay rates.”

“Yes and your paper was blacklisted, which is why you’re being arrested.” Kestrel said. “Look pal, I don’t make the laws; you’re gonna have to talk to the Provisional Council on that one.”

He pressed a stud on his radio, signaling for a pick up crew. Within a few minutes, blue suited members of the Shelter Police Department entered the room, rounding up the prisoners. One of the SPD officers approached them.

“I must say, I’m impressed.” he said wonderingly. “These guys have been eluding us for 6 months, and you two find them within 12 hours of us calling you. How do you guys do it?”

“We’re ISA.” Hikowa said, as if that explained everything. The officer scratched his head with a puzzled expression, then shrugged and walked away. Hikowa turned to Kestrel.

“So, how about a little celebration?” she asked. “I’ll buy; I still have about 200 points on my ration counter, and it’s getting refilled next week.”

“Sure, how about that steakhouse in Sector 56?” Kestrel suggested. They began walking through the building, heading towards the landing pad.

“No, I was thinking of my uncle’s restaurant.”

“No.” Kestrel said. “Absolutely not. They don’t even speak English there; the entire menu is in Japanese.”

“I’ll translate for you.” she reassured.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Last time you ‘translated’ between me and the waitress, I ended up with wasabi sauce mixed in my ice cream, which I am almost positive I did not request.”

Hikowa laughed at the memory of the prank. “Come on, that was a one time thing.”

“Fine.” Kestrel sighed. “But you better not try anything.”

They stepped through the exterior doorway, ending up on one of the building’s many landing pads. Kestrel activated the hailing beacon on the landing pad’s railing, summoning a tiltrotor taxi. Within seconds a cab dropped from the traffic lanes and landed. They climbed aboard and directed the pilot to take them to the Japanese Quarter. The cab lifted off the pad and began the long descent down to the shelter’s Lower City.

Chapter 1

While I prefer analyzing facts rather than just stating them, I feel I must give some basic background information on our own home before I delve further. Shelter 417 is a size B Shelter, with a current population of approximately 1.7 million. In shape, it is a hollow cylinder, being approximately two miles high and ten miles in diameter. Shelter 417 was constructed by the Allied Nations Civil Defense Corps in the year 2041, 3 years into the Last War. The city lies approximately one and one half miles underground, far below the effects of fallout or other contaminants. The population by nationality is 38% American, 27% Japanese, 22% EU, 9% Korean, and 4% from other groups.
- from Cities of Hope: A History of the Shelter Program and Shelter 417, published 2351, by Dr. James Fife; Head of the Shelter 417 Department of Archives and Records

“Hikowa, what the hell are we doing here?” Kestrel asked for what was probably the seventh time in the last hour.

They were walking around the halls of one of Shelter 417’s many stalactite skyscrapers, specifically the building that served as the headquarters for the Ministry of Science and Technology.

“We are looking for a bomb.” she explained again with an annoyed tone.

“I know that. But the bomb threat was called on the Treasury Complex next door. So why did SAC Rousseau tell us to search this building?”

“I don’t know Kestrel.” she admitted. “I’m sure it made perfect sense to the Provisional Council, but whatever logic there was in the request, if there was any to begin with that is, has since gotten lost as the orders trickled down to us. Trying to make sense of the bureaucracy has been proven to cause insanity. Just shut up, wave the bomb finder around, and try to pretend you aren’t bored out of your mind.”

There was a moment of silence before Kestrel spoke again. “So, who do you think is responsible for the bomb threat, the Watchers?”

Hikowa snorted “Gotta love crazy people. When I was growing up, I had a friend; I think her name was Hiroko, who was always spouting their bozo conspiracy theories. It turned out her father was one of them. He got arrested, and she and her mother disappeared after that. I was in third grade, so I really didn’t understand why she left, but I remember-”

A steady beeping suddenly emanated from the scanner in Kestrel’s hand. Kestrel’s brow furrowed “Uh, hold that thought.”

As he waved the scanner around, the frequency of the beeping changed. It finally came to a steady whine at one of the hallway’s doors. They cautiously entered the room, being wary of booby traps. They were in an office. There wasn’t much in the room; a cluttered desk, a few chairs, a computer, and an aquarium sitting atop a cabinet. Kestrel waved the bomb finder over room. Suddenly a chime emanated from the scanner when it was passed over the aquarium. Kestrel cautiously approached it. It was large, roughly 100 gallons. Oddly, there were no fish in it, nor were there any plants. He walked over and opened the top, dipping his hand in the water.

“This isn’t water.” He said, feeling its viscosity. He sniffed it. “It’s some kind of chemical.”

Hikowa bent and opened the cabinet doors, and found herself face to face with about fifty bricks of plastic explosives, each imprinted with a single open eye; the mark of the Watchers. Attached to the bricks with a few hundred wires was a digital timer, counting down. 23:21…23:20…23:19…

Hikowa let loose a string of Japanese curses so long and wrathful that Kestrel was glad for the first time in his life that he didn’t understand the language. She ran down the halls to the nearest intercom station, dialing in a call to the lobby. “I need this entire building evacuated in 10 minuets!”

“Ten minuets!?” the woman at the reception desk exclaimed. “This complex is 456 stories tall, and over a quarter mile in diameter, you can’t just-”

“I don’t give a ****, just make it happen.” she commanded. Seconds later an evacuation alarm sounded over the PA.

Kestrel turned on his radio. “This is Special Agent Kestrel, with Special Agent Hikowa to Command, over.”

“Go ahead Agent Kestrel.” A voice said.

“Get someone over here; you’re searching the wrong building.”

Within minuets, Special Agent in Charge Dominique Rousseau calmly strode into the room. Rousseau was a veteran; he’d been with the ISA for almost 50 years. Among the younger agents he was viewed as an eccentric old man, but nobody in the ISA denied his skill.

“This is the bomb?” he asked, with a slight hint of a French accent.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Kestrel asked. “I suggest you defuse the thing you only got” -he glanced at the timer-“6 minuets left. You can defuse it, right?”

“Of course.” He said indignantly, stroking his drooping grey mustache. “Now please, evacuate the structure.”

“Why?” Kestrel asked. “Sir, you may need us to-”

“No.” Rousseau cut him off. “Now, leave the building. That’s an order.”

“But sir-” Kestrel started another protest but was cut off by a gesture from Hikowa. “Yes sir.”

The two turned and ran out of the room racing towards the landing pad. A black gunship with ISA markings was waiting for them there. They climbed aboard, and the tiltrotor lifted off the pad and began pulling away from the building.

“Do you think he can defuse the bomb?” Hikowa asked.

Suddenly there was a loud roar behind them. They turned, peering out the window of the gunship. The building was in flames. I jagged hole over 300 feet in diameter had been blown in the side of the structure, flames and debris gushed forth from the hole like blood gushing from a wound. Tiltrotors with fire and rescue markings rushed in, flooding the hole with foam in a vein effort to fight back the flames.

“I doubt it.” Kestrel replied dryly.

Chapter 2

The events that lead to the war can be traced all the way back to 2029. In February of that year, the People’s Republic of China formed a pact with North Korea, culminating in a joint invasion of South Korea. The South Koreans turned to the United Nations for aid, and forces from the United States, United Kingdom, and Japan were sent. After four months of fighting, the Chinese-North Korean force was driven past the 38th parallel and up to the Chinese border. Confronted with a hostile force at their gates, the Chinese called for peace. On June 21st, 2029, the Treaty of Seoul was signed. This treaty resulted in the assimilation of North Korea into South Korea, unifying the two nations which had been separate for over 75 years. Harsh economic sanctions were also placed on China by the UN. Although an apparent victory, this only made the political climate worse, locking the world into a deadly spiral towards war.
- from The Last War, published 2346, by Dr. James Fife; Head of the Shelter 417 Department of Archives and Records

Its funny Kestrel thought, I can charge into a room full of armed criminals, but I can’t face my God damn boss without being nervous. He had been sitting in the waiting room for nearly two hours; in that time he’d counted all 345 of the tiles in the ceiling; there wasn’t much else to do. Finally, the door hissed open and Hikowa walked through.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“They think this whole thing could have been prevented.” she said furiously. “And since SAC Rousseau died in the blast, they’re blaming us. I’ve been suspended from duty; they’ll likely screw you over as well. It’s all bull****.”

Hikowa turned and stormed out of the room. The door in front of Kestrel opened with a hiss, and he walked through the entryway. The room was circular, and was completely empty save for a holographic projector sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the room. Hanging in the air was a green tinted transparent map of Shelter 417, displayed in real time. Toy sized tiltrotor craft flitted between the stalactite skyscrapers dangling from the ceiling, and the Lower City even had small cars moving through its streets.

Abruptly the map vanished, and a seated figure took its place. The man before him was dressed in a pressed suit and tie, with dark glasses hiding his eyes. He was the Director of the Internal Security Agency. Nobody in the Agency knew his name; he was simply the Director. Furthermore, nobody had ever seen him in person; he preferred to conduct all hearings with holograms broadcast from elsewhere. Kestrel had only met with the Director once before; about three years ago. Back then he had a different partner, a man by the name of Wesley Valentine. It was discovered Wesley had been holding blacklisted books. Because of Kestrel’s association with Wesley, Kestrel had testified before the Director in Wesley’s hearing. Wesley was convicted; he vanished shortly after that. The official statement was that he had been reassigned to work with the Shelter Police Force, but everybody knew the story was false. A few weeks later Kestrel was paired up with Hikowa.

“Do you know why you are here, Agent Kestrel?” the Director asked. Before Kestrel could speak, the Director answered his own question. “You are here because you have failed the Agency. Now, please recount the events leading up to the Watcher perpetrated terrorist attack on the Ministry of Science and Technology earlier today.”

“Well, we were assigned to sweep the building, even though the bomb threat was made against the adjoining Treasury Building. There, we found an improvised explosive device disguised as an aquarium and constructed from numerous blocks of C4 plastic explosives as well as tank of Astrolite G. We called for a complete evacuation of the building, and then reported the device to Special Agent in Charge Rousseau.”

“You were right in calling for an evacuation.” The Director smiled, but the otherworldly green tint of the hologram twisted the expression into a menacing grin. “Agent Hikowa informed us that Rousseau ordered you out of the building. Is this true?”

“Rousseau did order us out. I protested, but Hikowa urged me to obey.”

“That’s interesting,” the Director observed. “Because Agent Hikowa claims it was she that protested and you that followed orders.”

“No sir. Hikowa followed orders. Don’t take it out on her; I was the-”

“I will decide who is to blame for this catastrophe.” The Director said harshly. “Besides, it is not you ability to follow orders that is in question, but rather your incompetence. Because of your failure to locate the device promptly, the Watchers have caused over 35 million dollars in damage, as well as the death of three civilians, and injury of hundreds more.”

“Three people?” Kestrel asked; bewildered. “I was told that the building was clear.”

“Your source was incorrect. Three scientists from the Center for Contamination Control were killed in the blast. They were senior members; irreplaceable.”

“But sir-”

“Be silent!” the Director commanded. “Because of your failures, you are suspended from active duty until I deem you worthy to resume duty again.”

“But-”

The Director silenced him with a piercing gaze. Throwing his hands in the air, Kestrel stormed out of the room.
__________________________________________________ _____

Kestrel was still furious when he passed through the airlock leading into Jacobs Park, a ten acre green space in the New Tampa section of the Lower City. Moonlight streamed down from the starry sky, reflecting off the small brook that ran through the park. The park was quiet, aside from the sound of his footsteps on the grass and the wind whistling through the trees. Kestrel realized of course that all of it was an illusion; the moon and stars were just images projected on the domed ceiling above, the river was fed from the shelter’s municipal water supply, the trees and grass were all cultivated and fertilized by automated gardening systems, and the wind was generated by small fans within the dome’s walls.

Kestrel made his way down the winding cobblestone path. He knew the park well, even though he hadn’t been back since he was a boy. He and his friends had often played here. Sometimes he and his friends would pretend they were fighting the Great War; they’d always have huge arguments before each game over who had to play the Easterners. Other times the pristine park would become the radiation and disease ravaged Upworld in their eyes, and they would play a variant of tag; with one team as humans and another as mutants. His meandering path finally took him to a bench, surrounded on three sides by bushes. He sat there for a few minutes, when he heard approaching footsteps.

“A shame isn’t it?” a voice to his left spoke. Kestrel turned his head. The man before him was old, roughly 70. He wore a black trench coat, and a matching black fedora. His face was touched by a grey beard, and wire frame glasses rested on his nose.

“Excuse me?” Kestrel asked.

“A shame the Upworld no longer looks like this.” the man explained. Kestrel found his accent peculiar; it was British, which really wasn’t surprising. However, his speech did not exhibit any traces of the American vocalizations that most of Shelter 417’s European population was tainted with. “Can you imagine it Kyle? Imagine being able to live on the surface, to receive light from the sun rather than banks of fluorescent lights?”

“How do you know my name?” Kestrel asked.

“You’ll find I know much about you.” The man said mysteriously. “I’ve been following your career, and the career of your partner, Agent Hikowa, for several months.”

“Who the hell are you?” Kestrel. “And why are you spying on me?”

“Goldstein; Emmanuel Goldstein.” The man said. “I have been watching you, because I see in you potential. You are unlike the rest of your Agency; you are not tainted by the Provisional Council’s propaganda. You see things as they are.”

“You’re a Watcher, aren’t you?” Kestrel stood and drew his phase pistol.

“Put the gun away, boy.” The man said, calmly staring down the barrel of the weapon. “If you kill me, none of your questions will ever be answered. Questions such as why you lost your job today.”

Kestrel hesitated, then lowered his pistol, returning it to its holster.

“That is exactly what I’m talking about.” Goldstein said. “Any other agent wouldn’t have listened to reason; they would have just blindly followed their training and shot me.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” Kestrel said warily. “Now start talking.”

“Very well.” Goldstein said with a dignified nod. “To begin; no, I am not a member of the Watchers. I am merely an old man who is curious about several facets of our Shelter’s politics. Now, there is a key fact you don’t know about the bombing: SAC Dominique Rousseau never attempted to defuse the bomb.”

“He just let it blow him away, is that it?” Kestrel asked incredulously.

“Tell me, why did the Watchers pick that building? Why not the Treasury Building, a far more opportune target?”

“The Treasury Building was too well guarded.” Kestrel explained, talking as if to a small child.

“For the Watchers? Of course not. They have attacked targets under far more careful scrutiny. But then again, the Watcher’s didn’t attack that building, did they?”

“Who else would?” Kestrel asked.

“Who else indeed?” Goldstein inquired. “However, you are missing the real point. The area destroyed by the bomb consisted of the offices of the Center for Contamination Control, a section of the Ministry of Science and Technology responsible for keeping radiation from entering the shelter from the Upworld…as well as testing the surface radiation and contaminate levels to predict when it is safe to inhabit again. These offices were where the bodies of the three scientists were found. However, there is a detail about these scientists that everyone had overlooked, that nobody would bother to check: the scientists were already dead.”

“Before the bomb went off?” Kestrel said with disbelief.

“Yes. They were in a quarantine lab within the CCC” Goldstein affirmed. “Furthermore, ten minuets before the bomb went off, the bodies were moved to the Shelter Morgue. However, all record of this transfer was deleted from the mainframe; I was only able to obtain it through hacking.”

“You’re telling me the Provisional Government blew a huge chunk out of its own building, just to hide the bodies of three scientists? Kestrel asked. “Why would they do that?”

“That is the question indeed.” Goldstein said with a knowing smile. “Maybe you’ll have found out when we meet again.”

Suddenly Goldstein began to flicker and fade, finally coalescing down into a point of light on the ground. The light faded, leaving a small round disk on the park’s cobblestone path. Kestrel picked up the holoprojector and threw it into the weeds angrily. He brought out his radio and punched in the code for Control.

“Can you do a check on a guy called Emmanuel Goldstein?” he asked the archivist on the other line.

“Your kidding, right?” she said after a brief pause. “Emmanuel Goldstein was an anarchist character in a 20th century novel called Nineteen Eighty-Four, a book that has since been blacklisted. You want me to look up Santa Clause next?”

Kestrel turned off the radio with a sign. After some hesitation, he left the park and called down a cab, heading towards the Japanese Quarter.

Very interesting story so far, am rather interested in reading more when you post it up. Noticed a few things missing here and there, namely a couple of quotations and maybe a period or two, but otherwise it's good.