Project Lorraine Chapter #16: Tag, You're It...
I sat on the edge of Rhys' bed for several minutes, though it seemed longer. As I'd said to Pete, the jump-light was on. I shook my head a third time, sighed. To be at the Diner with time to change and scrub, I could not delay any more.
I shrugged into Rhys' plain breast-band, pulled on the simple, but feminine briefs and eased the long tunic over my head. I adjusted the belt until it looked right, put on the sandals. I stepped to and fro, let my nerves settle. Surprisingly, the different posture and longer hem-line helped me adjust. I still felt horribly conspicuous, but as a Naive Newbie rather than a Disguised Sap: 'Tis curious how the mind works...
I'd anticipated all sorts of problems and issues, could never have imagined this. Still, it had to be done. I would be failing in my duty if I flinched. Of course, there was an up-side: No pandemic hung on my hesitation, I had some margin of error...
Yeah, right.
Time to go. Make a final check, take the key to 17. I eased out, clicked off the dim light and locked the door. Back to #1, turn left. Short steps, short steps. Ignore a passing Elder due his flicker of Glamour. Count a first-right. Hold pace and stride down. Nod to a couple of curious Youngsters, ignore their stares. Second right. Hesitate while a chattering group of Youngsters cross from the left. Ignore their glances and puzzled looks. Follow them slowly, due my shorter stride and slower pace. Ease into the 'Staff Only' door, close it gently, lean on wall, take a deep breath...
"Hello, can I help you ?"
I turned. Pete was peering from the clean-side's door. He looked me over, puzzled, "Hello, are you lost ?"
"Just don't laugh..." I whispered.
"Creche-Mother's Tits !" He gasped, gulped, "I-- Ah-- D'uh, don't move-- Stay right there--"
He vanished into the clean-side for a minute or two, returned with Mari and Sue, "... so perhaps you could have a quick word with her, ask experience and such ? I wasn't expecting a student, I'm in the middle of things..."
"Oh, okay..." Sue stepped into the changing room, smiled at me, "Hi, I'm Sue. Sorry, Chef Joey didn't know we were getting a Catering Student. So much going on, news must have got lost some-where--"
"Sue ?" Mari elbowed her, "Sue !!"
"What, Mari ?"
"Look at her face !! Who does she remind you of ?"
Sue peered at me, looked closer, blinked. She put a hand to her mouth, "Well, I'll be dipped in Chives ! Rhys, is that really you ?"
"Elder Weft made a few changes... " I admitted.
"So I see !" Sue gulped.
"Gissa twirl ?" Mari pleaded.
I pivoted neatly, made a clumsy curtsey.
"You Little Monster !" Mari hissed, "And, you, too, Rhys ! Joey said--"
"I know what Joey SAID-- " Sue spat, "I know EXACTLY what Joey SAID, and I walked right into it... Right. Okay. Calm. Calm. Yes. Rhys, you know the Food Hygeine rules: Change, wash and scrub, meet us inside ?"
"Just don't laugh--" My quiet plea was cut off by the slammed door and her rising shriek, "Jo-EEEEY ??"
My locker's shelf held a new badge for Rhys. I took a few minutes to change, to tie my coat's belt looser than last time, to wash and scrub. I walked through to the now-calmed Dinner Ladies, held out my hands to be sniffed, "Start clean ?"
Sue looked, sniffed, nodded, grinned, "Here's your clean plate-cloth. You're on the Mince and Mushroom Casserole for now. Don't mind the stares, Rhys, and remember to SMILE."
I was too busy to notice stares. I suspected many Vamps must have skipped one or more meals through the day, but they all wanted Dinner. And, most of them wanted my Casserole ! Smile, small ladle, smile, big ladle, smile, small ladle, mind the plate-cloth corner, wider stance, smile, small ladle, remember to breathe, smile, big ladle, remember to breathe, ladle's clunking already ? "Getting low !"
Sue lifted out that hefty pot, replaced it. Smile, small ladle, smile, big ladle, smile, small ladle--
"Ah, young Rhys ! You are our new Catering Student ? You look very smart !"
"Thank you, Ma'am !"
Elder Weft winked, pushed her tray onwards.
"Big serving, please, Rhys !" Matilda --or was it Marietta ?-- grinned at me, was shunted onwards by her hungry Twin, "Same again, please, Rhys !"
I smiled, ladled, peripherally noting that a dozen heads had turned. Of course, even Rhys, a new Catering Student approved by Elder Weft, was almost a non-event beside the day's main buzz...
Smile, small ladle, smile, big ladle, smile, ladle's clunking again ? "Getting low !"
"That's the lot !" Sue stated, "When that's gone, lid it, take five in back."
I nodded. Some-one got the last ladle. I eased the heavy lid to place and slid away. Behind the scenes, Joey was waiting with a long glass of water, "Yours."
I nodded, sank the lot, burped gently, "Thanks... Is it always so busy at Dinner ?"
"No, there's a good crowd tonight, and the Casserole's a favourite. You did well--"
"And you remembered to smile !" Mary grinned as she toted my empty pot through to the wash-up area.
Sue brought another pot, "That's the custard gone... Nice one, Rhys ! Still tense, but neat and clean. Please, Mr. Joey, Chef ? Can we keep her ? Pretty please, with candies on top ?"
"For a couple of weeks, perhaps..." Joey allowed, "Like, er, Chris, said, 'Strange Times'. Speaking of which, er, Rhys, some time in the next few days, I'll rotate you to the Caf. You need to be seen there before Elder Broderik's goons start sniffing about..."
"You've seen him before ?"
"Couple of years ago. Nothing to do with THIS Nest, thank the Elders ! We were just neutral ground for two sub-factions to meet..."
"Much trouble ?"
"Nothing was good enough for them. At least Elder Frank is civilised-- they were just rude ! Worse, they nearly came to blows in the Nest--"
"They took it outside." Anabelle brought an empty sauce-jug and some tools, "Seconds fought, one almost died."
"Seconds ?" I puzzled, "Duellists, Boxers and Wrestlers have Seconds, but..."
"Somewhere between 'Champion' and 'Minder'." Lara scooted through, her tray piled with empty dishes, "Elder does the thinking, Second handles thumping and clawing, there's a couple of mean Youngsters as look-outs and Go-Fors. Sorry, empties are piling up out there..."
"Thanks, Lara !" I nodded, turned to Joey, "My cue ?"
Joey pointed to 'Front of House', "You're on !"
With enough food in them, HomoVamps will glance up from their plates. I got several long looks as I bustled between tables, collecting empties. Although Lara and I divided our routes, I finally had to pass near Pete. He'd eaten with a couple of other Youngsters, but they'd left. He'd been joined by Monty and Frank. Pete saved me the choice, called, "Ah, Rhys ! Have you a moment ?"
I paused with my laden tray, "Was the meal satisfactory ?"
"Oh, yes ! The Casserole was delicious, as ever ! But I'd like you to meet Elder Monty and Elder Frank !"
"Elders !" I ghosted a curtsey to see Pete's reaction.
He struggled, but kept his face straight, "Elders, young Rhys, here, has joined us as a Catering Student for several weeks."
A dozen heads had turned, more were surely within earshot.
"Ah, young Rhys !" Monty nodded, "I've heard well of you ! Keep up the good work !"
Frank glanced at me, glanced again, hesitated, blinked, took a hasty slurp of fruit-juice, found his voice, "Ah ? Rhys ? Good Welsh name !"
"Small Nest back of Oswestry ?" Monty nodded, "Old Sire was quite Traditional, I believe, but he had a traffic accident... Young Rhys is mostly self-taught."
"Ah..." Frank gathered his wits, "Well, then, young Rhys, I'm sure we'll see you around !"
"Please, continue !" Monty waved me on.
"Elders !" I ghosted another curtsey to see Pete squirm, slid away.
Behind me, Monty chuckled, "I believe Elder Weft has taken a shine to Rhys, young Pete ?"
"Yes, Elder." Pete nodded, safely, "I believe so..."
They'd timed it well. The crowd had thinned enough for their conversation to carry, but held enough to hear and remember. So, I was from Oswestry ? My Great Aunt --of Rhys' Piddle-- and her family still lived there, so I knew the area. That 'traffic accident' was a sly touch: It meant the Old Sire had died hunting. For Traditionalists, that was surely an honourable exit. Their New Sire must have Progressive tendencies, else Rhys would not be here. Self-taught ? I did not attend this Nest's school, would be ignorant of its ways. Clever, clever, clever...
"You are quick on your feet !" Lara complimented me as I dropped off a last tray at the wash-up, "Play Station and Paintball ?"
"And the Nursing degree..." I nodded, "Phew ! Hard work, though !"
"You'll learn to pace yourself..." She nodded, "I heard Monty, too. Rhys from Oswestry, eh ? Can you cover it ?"
"Just about-- I've kin there. I take it I don't have to discuss Nest details ?"
"Nor how you got here. Not without permission from your Sire or Elders." Lara finished loading a wash-tray, slid it into the system, "Your current Sire will be feeling a bit exposed. You'd be expected to keep stum..."
"Thanks !"
"Um, is Rhys Amnestied ?" Lara wondered.
"Oh, yes, but the legal minimum: Just a swab."
Joey turned from pre-rinsing pots, "Code or tag ?"
"Tag in my pelvis!" I chuckled, "What's one more big syringe ? I was donating more marrow anyway, got two-for-one. Still stung, mind..."
"Hold on-- How did you know you'd need--"
"Rhys didn't, silly !" Lara cut in, "Just good sense ! Without one, Chris could get shot on sight !"
"What ?" Joey hissed.
"Sadly, yes. " I nodded, "Accidentally, of course. So sorry, thought it was the start of a Rush..."
"You cannot be serious !"
"Deadly." I stated, "There was a hidden scanner at Victoria Station: I felt the ping."
"You FELT the ping ?"
"Well, my other tag sensed the ping and buzzed to let me know..."
"THAT is not a standard tag--"
"Hey, there's no cell-phone in it !" I hastened, "Just a top-range Medi-Tag: Carries my groups and types, vaccinations, allergies and such. Effective range is a dozen metres. Think Bluetooth-- You could find me in a mass-grave or lime-pit, but I'm under the radar here..."
"You really have to plan for things like that ?"
"Occupational hazards..." I shrugged, "Whole bunch of contingencies."
Lara could not find words, but bit her lip.
"Okay, all loaded..." Joey announced, "Wash your hands, grab plates. I'm serving ! And I've saved some Casserole-- Lara, Rhys, you've first refusal !"
I took a small portion, leaving enough for two more. It tasted good, I could understand the enthusiasm. There was an odd hint of flavour, though. The main ingredient was beef mince, but it had something else-- Not lamb, poultry or pork...
"Touch of venison ?" I asked after I'd cleared my plate and wiped it with a broken roll, "Hint of boar ? Can't place it..."
"Hedgehog crisps !" Joey chuckled, "Seriously ! And I know there's no hedgehogs involved, but doesn't it make a difference ?"
"Would not have believed it !" I admitted, "You've caught the 'Jungle Meat' taste, that's for sure..."
"Oh ? What have you eaten ?" Sue wondered.
"Monkey. Can't say I cared for it..." I shrugged, "We'd buy some in local markets, test it three ways: Track mutant strains, flag species jumpers, archive for hindsight. If we know where it came from, there's more chance of out-witting an outbreak..."
"Soup and a roll ?" Sue puzzled as I pushed my chair back, "And you've still room for dessert ?"
"I've an invitation to the Club-- as Chris. Thought I'd take some dishes through..."
"Okay." Joey nodded, "Who will you be for Supper ?"
"I don't know. I doubt I'll escape from Monty's company, so Chris."
"Ah !" Sue nodded, dug in a patch-pocket, "Time tables ! We print them off for Guests-- here's one for each of you, and a spare."
"Oh, thanks, Sue !" I glanced at the time, then the schedule, "Okay, I'll also be Chris for First Breakfast. How many meals do you expect Rhys for ?"
"All of them ?" Joey quipped.
"Don't be cruel !" Sue elbowed him, "Chris is an Honoured Guest, so any help from Rhys is more than welcome !"
"Okay, okay..." Joey admitted, "Tell you what: Tomorrow, I'll lend Rhys some books, a note-pad and a bunch of old menus. If she doesn't show up, she's studying..."
"Neat ! And, thanks ! I don't want to get too predictable." I nodded, gathered our empties and left them stacked in the wash-up area. After washing my hands, I took a deep breath and stepped into the changing room. My walk back to 17 was less fraught because I got courteous nods instead of puzzled glances. I entered 17 as Rhys, stripped, went through to 19, used the wash-room, dressed and emerged as Chris.
Five minutes later, I stepped into the Club for the second time. Again, all the heads came around. This time, they hooted, called me in. Elder Monty pulled rank, led me to a low table flanked by wide couches, "Chris, RogueBane: Elder Frank, Elder Vine, Elder Weft you know. Elder Lime regulates the Tannery, Elder Hope is Creche-Mother. Elder Fern tutors the Senior students. Elder Book also tutors the Seniors, and keeps the Chronicle. Elders Justin, Ralph and Brodie send their regrets, as do Elders Pearl and Chain."
"I'm honoured ! Thank you !" I hesitated, "Sorry, I really don't know what else to say..."
"Don't worry !" Frank grinned, "You've said enough today !"
"Indeed !" Elder Lime nodded, "From your first words, you confirmed Elder Monty's selection."
"Very kind of you... " I admitted, "But I did fall into this by accident--"
"Nonsense !" Elder Book interjected, "There is Accident, and there is Serendipity ! You cleave to the latter !"
"Fortune favours the prepared." Elder Hope stated.
Elder Vine nodded, "You inspired my Juniors-- They will speak of nothing else ! One thought: Did you jest when you spoke of tricking that Slayer ?"
"I made light of her failings. She's a Slayer, it limits her options. But I did so beat her at 'Scissors, Paper, Rock' in the conference bar... Which leads me to an interesting question: What does a RogueBane do ?"
The Elders laughed. Monty answered, "As you do ! You act with us Elders' authority. Reason with Rogues-- and if sense does not prevail, you may kill."
"No euphemisms. " I nodded, "I like that. Any retired RogueBanes I can talk to ? Discuss tactics ?"
Sadly, no. There has been no RogueBane in this Nest for many years."
"Ah... Sap many ? Vamp many ?"
"Your Civil War--"
"Yerk !!"
"One advantage of of our large and very settled Nest." Monty allowed, "Small Neighbour Nests suffer, but remove the threat to us..."
"Safety in numbers." I nodded, "Okay. Okay, I see the benefits. And, with Amnesty, you have the Sap authorities on your side, too ?"
"There is that..." Monty admitted, "But--"
"Hold that thought..." I worked an implication through, "The school: It has built a lot of links with your Neighbours. You now feel responsible for their protection, too ?"
"Yes."
"And I'm doing the job already, though from the Sap side." I nodded, "Thank you. So the problem is persuading other Nests to accept your RogueBane ?"
"Yes..." Frank sighed, "Even I was expecting some-one taller..."
"You handled it well. " I grinned, "I've had Rogues ignore me, thinking I was a 'Stalking Horse' for the real Hunter."
They laughed and hooted.
"If you will pardon the question..." Elder Lime put, "How do you attract their attention ?"
"Ketamine dart." I shrugged, "If there's time, I've a Trank-gun. Between the tag and the drug-haze, a bunch see sense. If I'm Rushed, its my P46."
Frank shook his head slowly, "You are a cool Sap, I'll grant you that !"
"Ketamine ?" Elder Book puzzled, "Surely that is too slow ?"
"Not SOTM's mix." I shook my head, "I've got to carry an air-way and styrettes of antidote in case of a bad reaction. Air-way's also useful if I've shot them."
"You would give a downed Rogue CPR ?"
"Five... " I counted, "No, six."
"Did they live ?"
"Three took Amnesty..." I hesitated, "Two bled out. One is completely mad."
"There are losses in every trade..." Elder Lime quoted Kipling, "But what of Rogues who accept Amnesty ?"
"Usual rules: They gotta 'fess up and take their lumps." I shrugged, "Crown Prosecution Service run them through the 'Scene Of Crime' database to be sure. Worst case, Rogues can plead 'Diminished Responsibility', reduce Murder to Manslaughter. Same for old stuff: There's no 'Statute of Limitations' on Murder, but Manslaughter gets a Concurrent sentence or Conditional Discharge."
"What of the conditions inside your so-called 'Salt Mine' ?" Elder Fern wondered.
"I can answer that." Elder Frank stated, unexpectedly, "Look around."
He got puzzled looks.
"SOTM's so-called 'Salt Mine' is both a prison and a 'Secure Hospital', but it is pleasant. Prisoners have similar rules to HomoSaps-- they may write home. The conditions, menus and nutrition are public record. The regular Prison Visitors' system checks such claims. Us Traditionalists doubted. Then we suspected a trick. Then we thought it was a show-case wing, and the rest was dirty, noisy, damp and bright. But, no. When SOTM asked for details of a Nest's environment, only Progressives spoke. SOTM honoured their specifications."
Several Elders muttered and shook their heads unhappily.
"Yet it is a prison !" Elder Frank confirmed, "Several Rogues have lost remission for 'Riotous Behavior' and other misconduct."
"They were not shot ?" Elder Lime puzzled.
"Seems not..." Frank allowed, "Though some detail is censored from letters.... Chris ?"
"I only know what is on public record." I shrugged, "I'd guess at a couple of tricks. Reduced Oxygen and/or increased CO2 percentages makes Vamps keel over, go torpid. So, bleed Nitrogen into a corridor's air-con or squirt a CO2 extinguisher into a cell could do the trick. Tear-gas, pepper-spray or flash-bangs have clean-up issues. But there are crucial differences to a normal prison. It is underground. It relies on forced ventilation. If all else fails, the Governor could key the breakers and wait. Also, because of Vamp venom, warders have a special clause in their contracts. Hostages must be assumed 'Bent', their freedom is non-negotiable."
That caused some more muttering. Elder Lime voiced a common fear, "Has any Rogue's kin attempted to coerce a warder's family ?"
"As far as I know, only once. SAS dealt with them. We had to run DNA on those three Vamps' body parts to match them up."
"That-- That seems a little excessive."
"Seems SAS have a rule-of-thumb: no such concept as Overkill, only 'Re-Load' and 'Cease-Fire'. From the sample contamination, I'd guess they used a Claymore mine, mortars and lots of bullets. I think the message was received and understood..."
"Have you much to do with the SAS ?"
"Once was enough..." I shuddered, "They de-briefed me after the Unquiet 'Stans Incident. If they're like that with their friends, I pity their enemies."
"What happened ? Can you talk about it ?"
"SOTM's Shrink says I should, mitigates PTSD: Well, when I got back from the 'Stans, I was sent an invitation to visit Credenhill, to discuss both my experience in the 'Stans and the nuances of Rogue Hunting. Can't say I was happy about it, but I was given to understand they'd been 'Plan B' if our Blue Helmets failed."
"You owed them, if only by proxy." Frank nodded.
"Didn't start well: as my file-copy read 5-/O instead 5-0, they took some convincing I was me."
"Expecting Some-one Taller." Monty chuckled as Frank winced.
"Then they thought I was Walting. But, I'm a HotZoner. That was unarguable. Eventually, they conceded I might be for real...
"After that uneasy start, I was led to a conference room and lengthily quizzed on Rogue Hunting. They did not want to believe. Those heavy-hitters did not consider the dinky 4.6 a man-stopper, never mind a Vamp-stopper. As I'd then six to my credit plus a couple of Amnestied, my system needed checking. They led me to an indoor range, had me plink some targets. My scores proved my P46 and I did have a Rogue-shaped sweet-spot, made them suck their teeth. So they took me to their urban pop-ups, let me pith those. My technique was a bit stiff, I had odd ideas of where to place shots, but I could reliably stop Vamps. And I'd not shoot once to kill if I could fire twice or more to disable. Then I mentioned that their Rush targets felt a bit slow. They cranked up the speed until I was happy. I still hit where and how I pleased. As it was their ammo, I burned through a lot proving it was no accident.
"Dinner in the Mess was a thoughtful affair. I had nothing but respect for them. Unfortunately, my methods broke all their rules-- and worked for me. I drank only lemonade, took an early night in the Guest room supplied. I knew their reputation for unorthodox hospitality, took a few precautions. A couple of minutes after 3 AM, the door burst open and a bunch of howling Jihadists swarmed in. They pounced on the bed, bundled its occupant in the bedding and ran out. Well, they got as far as my heat-pad's taut cable before realising something was wrong. My pajamas were stuffed with rolled blankets, the head was a hand-made Scream-mask. There was scant space under the bed, but I was there, curled in a dark blanket, clearing the safety from my well-cleaned P46 and its 20-round mag...
"No names, no pack-drill: They re-made the bed, re-wired my heat-pad's wrenched plug, re-hung the door with full-length screws in the hinges, vanished into the night...
"Next morning, they invited me to inspect my crate --How did they get it ?-- and their realistic mock-up of my 'Stans cave. They even had my blood-stained rock. I pointed out some discrepancies, they walked me through my escape. They made me identify, handle and fire the AK47 variant I'd liberated, discuss the grenades I'd lobbed. They traced Bill, my nice Canadian Master Sargeant, rang him at home and spoke to him at length. After lunch, we again discussed Rogue hunting before they put me on a train home. I must admit I spent most of the journey watching for ambushes and Black Helicopters..."
"Paranoia ill becomes you !" Frank chuckled, "Did you hear any more of it ?"
"Just one thing: Bill now gets a Christmas card from The Regiment...."
The Elders hooted. Monty glanced at the clock, "Ah, coming up to Supper ! Would you eat with us ?"
"Only a snack, if you don't mind." I nodded, "I need an early night."
We streamed through to the Diner, where the menu was soup and rolls. I nibbled a roll, drank tomato juice. Joey had gone, I did not recognise the two Dinner Ladies helping Lara. She noted my company, said nothing, but met my eyes and smiled kindly. After a protracted supper and small-talk, I made my excuses and headed for 19 to collect my Lederhosen.
Took me a while to find my original VIP Guest Room. Thirst things first. I stripped, did my business, got clean. I put my fangs and contacts in soak, brushed my teeth and pulled on the supplied night-shirt. That classic coffin beckoned. I checked for ventilation, hidden catches, bolts or spikes, found no traps. The 'satin' lining was a modified sleeping-bag, held by copious Velcro. There was a modest mattress underneath. I set the alarm-clock, dimmed the lights, clambered in. With my head on the pillow, I could still reach the half-lid. It swung down.
Quiet, dark. No traffic noise, no street-glow, no neighbours' teething kiddies, no boom-boxes blaring from cars at the take-away opposite, no jets on red-eye flights, no drunks, no Karaoke-clubbers, no sirens, no Police helicopters...
I grinned. I could enjoy this !
'Busy day tomorrow.' I told myself, tuned out. I had apocalyptic dreams, of course. But, in my line of work, that's normal.
I sat on the edge of Rhys' bed for several minutes, though it seemed longer. As I'd said to Pete, the jump-light was on. I shook my head a third time, sighed. To be at the Diner with time to change and scrub, I could not delay any more.
I shrugged into Rhys' plain breast-band, pulled on the simple, but feminine briefs and eased the long tunic over my head. I adjusted the belt until it looked right, put on the sandals. I stepped to and fro, let my nerves settle. Surprisingly, the different posture and longer hem-line helped me adjust. I still felt horribly conspicuous, but as a Naive Newbie rather than a Disguised Sap: 'Tis curious how the mind works...
I'd anticipated all sorts of problems and issues, could never have imagined this. Still, it had to be done. I would be failing in my duty if I flinched. Of course, there was an up-side: No pandemic hung on my hesitation, I had some margin of error...
Yeah, right.
Time to go. Make a final check, take the key to 17. I eased out, clicked off the dim light and locked the door. Back to #1, turn left. Short steps, short steps. Ignore a passing Elder due his flicker of Glamour. Count a first-right. Hold pace and stride down. Nod to a couple of curious Youngsters, ignore their stares. Second right. Hesitate while a chattering group of Youngsters cross from the left. Ignore their glances and puzzled looks. Follow them slowly, due my shorter stride and slower pace. Ease into the 'Staff Only' door, close it gently, lean on wall, take a deep breath...
"Hello, can I help you ?"
I turned. Pete was peering from the clean-side's door. He looked me over, puzzled, "Hello, are you lost ?"
"Just don't laugh..." I whispered.
"Creche-Mother's Tits !" He gasped, gulped, "I-- Ah-- D'uh, don't move-- Stay right there--"
He vanished into the clean-side for a minute or two, returned with Mari and Sue, "... so perhaps you could have a quick word with her, ask experience and such ? I wasn't expecting a student, I'm in the middle of things..."
"Oh, okay..." Sue stepped into the changing room, smiled at me, "Hi, I'm Sue. Sorry, Chef Joey didn't know we were getting a Catering Student. So much going on, news must have got lost some-where--"
"Sue ?" Mari elbowed her, "Sue !!"
"What, Mari ?"
"Look at her face !! Who does she remind you of ?"
Sue peered at me, looked closer, blinked. She put a hand to her mouth, "Well, I'll be dipped in Chives ! Rhys, is that really you ?"
"Elder Weft made a few changes... " I admitted.
"So I see !" Sue gulped.
"Gissa twirl ?" Mari pleaded.
I pivoted neatly, made a clumsy curtsey.
"You Little Monster !" Mari hissed, "And, you, too, Rhys ! Joey said--"
"I know what Joey SAID-- " Sue spat, "I know EXACTLY what Joey SAID, and I walked right into it... Right. Okay. Calm. Calm. Yes. Rhys, you know the Food Hygeine rules: Change, wash and scrub, meet us inside ?"
"Just don't laugh--" My quiet plea was cut off by the slammed door and her rising shriek, "Jo-EEEEY ??"
My locker's shelf held a new badge for Rhys. I took a few minutes to change, to tie my coat's belt looser than last time, to wash and scrub. I walked through to the now-calmed Dinner Ladies, held out my hands to be sniffed, "Start clean ?"
Sue looked, sniffed, nodded, grinned, "Here's your clean plate-cloth. You're on the Mince and Mushroom Casserole for now. Don't mind the stares, Rhys, and remember to SMILE."
I was too busy to notice stares. I suspected many Vamps must have skipped one or more meals through the day, but they all wanted Dinner. And, most of them wanted my Casserole ! Smile, small ladle, smile, big ladle, smile, small ladle, mind the plate-cloth corner, wider stance, smile, small ladle, remember to breathe, smile, big ladle, remember to breathe, ladle's clunking already ? "Getting low !"
Sue lifted out that hefty pot, replaced it. Smile, small ladle, smile, big ladle, smile, small ladle--
"Ah, young Rhys ! You are our new Catering Student ? You look very smart !"
"Thank you, Ma'am !"
Elder Weft winked, pushed her tray onwards.
"Big serving, please, Rhys !" Matilda --or was it Marietta ?-- grinned at me, was shunted onwards by her hungry Twin, "Same again, please, Rhys !"
I smiled, ladled, peripherally noting that a dozen heads had turned. Of course, even Rhys, a new Catering Student approved by Elder Weft, was almost a non-event beside the day's main buzz...
Smile, small ladle, smile, big ladle, smile, ladle's clunking again ? "Getting low !"
"That's the lot !" Sue stated, "When that's gone, lid it, take five in back."
I nodded. Some-one got the last ladle. I eased the heavy lid to place and slid away. Behind the scenes, Joey was waiting with a long glass of water, "Yours."
I nodded, sank the lot, burped gently, "Thanks... Is it always so busy at Dinner ?"
"No, there's a good crowd tonight, and the Casserole's a favourite. You did well--"
"And you remembered to smile !" Mary grinned as she toted my empty pot through to the wash-up area.
Sue brought another pot, "That's the custard gone... Nice one, Rhys ! Still tense, but neat and clean. Please, Mr. Joey, Chef ? Can we keep her ? Pretty please, with candies on top ?"
"For a couple of weeks, perhaps..." Joey allowed, "Like, er, Chris, said, 'Strange Times'. Speaking of which, er, Rhys, some time in the next few days, I'll rotate you to the Caf. You need to be seen there before Elder Broderik's goons start sniffing about..."
"You've seen him before ?"
"Couple of years ago. Nothing to do with THIS Nest, thank the Elders ! We were just neutral ground for two sub-factions to meet..."
"Much trouble ?"
"Nothing was good enough for them. At least Elder Frank is civilised-- they were just rude ! Worse, they nearly came to blows in the Nest--"
"They took it outside." Anabelle brought an empty sauce-jug and some tools, "Seconds fought, one almost died."
"Seconds ?" I puzzled, "Duellists, Boxers and Wrestlers have Seconds, but..."
"Somewhere between 'Champion' and 'Minder'." Lara scooted through, her tray piled with empty dishes, "Elder does the thinking, Second handles thumping and clawing, there's a couple of mean Youngsters as look-outs and Go-Fors. Sorry, empties are piling up out there..."
"Thanks, Lara !" I nodded, turned to Joey, "My cue ?"
Joey pointed to 'Front of House', "You're on !"
With enough food in them, HomoVamps will glance up from their plates. I got several long looks as I bustled between tables, collecting empties. Although Lara and I divided our routes, I finally had to pass near Pete. He'd eaten with a couple of other Youngsters, but they'd left. He'd been joined by Monty and Frank. Pete saved me the choice, called, "Ah, Rhys ! Have you a moment ?"
I paused with my laden tray, "Was the meal satisfactory ?"
"Oh, yes ! The Casserole was delicious, as ever ! But I'd like you to meet Elder Monty and Elder Frank !"
"Elders !" I ghosted a curtsey to see Pete's reaction.
He struggled, but kept his face straight, "Elders, young Rhys, here, has joined us as a Catering Student for several weeks."
A dozen heads had turned, more were surely within earshot.
"Ah, young Rhys !" Monty nodded, "I've heard well of you ! Keep up the good work !"
Frank glanced at me, glanced again, hesitated, blinked, took a hasty slurp of fruit-juice, found his voice, "Ah ? Rhys ? Good Welsh name !"
"Small Nest back of Oswestry ?" Monty nodded, "Old Sire was quite Traditional, I believe, but he had a traffic accident... Young Rhys is mostly self-taught."
"Ah..." Frank gathered his wits, "Well, then, young Rhys, I'm sure we'll see you around !"
"Please, continue !" Monty waved me on.
"Elders !" I ghosted another curtsey to see Pete squirm, slid away.
Behind me, Monty chuckled, "I believe Elder Weft has taken a shine to Rhys, young Pete ?"
"Yes, Elder." Pete nodded, safely, "I believe so..."
They'd timed it well. The crowd had thinned enough for their conversation to carry, but held enough to hear and remember. So, I was from Oswestry ? My Great Aunt --of Rhys' Piddle-- and her family still lived there, so I knew the area. That 'traffic accident' was a sly touch: It meant the Old Sire had died hunting. For Traditionalists, that was surely an honourable exit. Their New Sire must have Progressive tendencies, else Rhys would not be here. Self-taught ? I did not attend this Nest's school, would be ignorant of its ways. Clever, clever, clever...
"You are quick on your feet !" Lara complimented me as I dropped off a last tray at the wash-up, "Play Station and Paintball ?"
"And the Nursing degree..." I nodded, "Phew ! Hard work, though !"
"You'll learn to pace yourself..." She nodded, "I heard Monty, too. Rhys from Oswestry, eh ? Can you cover it ?"
"Just about-- I've kin there. I take it I don't have to discuss Nest details ?"
"Nor how you got here. Not without permission from your Sire or Elders." Lara finished loading a wash-tray, slid it into the system, "Your current Sire will be feeling a bit exposed. You'd be expected to keep stum..."
"Thanks !"
"Um, is Rhys Amnestied ?" Lara wondered.
"Oh, yes, but the legal minimum: Just a swab."
Joey turned from pre-rinsing pots, "Code or tag ?"
"Tag in my pelvis!" I chuckled, "What's one more big syringe ? I was donating more marrow anyway, got two-for-one. Still stung, mind..."
"Hold on-- How did you know you'd need--"
"Rhys didn't, silly !" Lara cut in, "Just good sense ! Without one, Chris could get shot on sight !"
"What ?" Joey hissed.
"Sadly, yes. " I nodded, "Accidentally, of course. So sorry, thought it was the start of a Rush..."
"You cannot be serious !"
"Deadly." I stated, "There was a hidden scanner at Victoria Station: I felt the ping."
"You FELT the ping ?"
"Well, my other tag sensed the ping and buzzed to let me know..."
"THAT is not a standard tag--"
"Hey, there's no cell-phone in it !" I hastened, "Just a top-range Medi-Tag: Carries my groups and types, vaccinations, allergies and such. Effective range is a dozen metres. Think Bluetooth-- You could find me in a mass-grave or lime-pit, but I'm under the radar here..."
"You really have to plan for things like that ?"
"Occupational hazards..." I shrugged, "Whole bunch of contingencies."
Lara could not find words, but bit her lip.
"Okay, all loaded..." Joey announced, "Wash your hands, grab plates. I'm serving ! And I've saved some Casserole-- Lara, Rhys, you've first refusal !"
I took a small portion, leaving enough for two more. It tasted good, I could understand the enthusiasm. There was an odd hint of flavour, though. The main ingredient was beef mince, but it had something else-- Not lamb, poultry or pork...
"Touch of venison ?" I asked after I'd cleared my plate and wiped it with a broken roll, "Hint of boar ? Can't place it..."
"Hedgehog crisps !" Joey chuckled, "Seriously ! And I know there's no hedgehogs involved, but doesn't it make a difference ?"
"Would not have believed it !" I admitted, "You've caught the 'Jungle Meat' taste, that's for sure..."
"Oh ? What have you eaten ?" Sue wondered.
"Monkey. Can't say I cared for it..." I shrugged, "We'd buy some in local markets, test it three ways: Track mutant strains, flag species jumpers, archive for hindsight. If we know where it came from, there's more chance of out-witting an outbreak..."
"Soup and a roll ?" Sue puzzled as I pushed my chair back, "And you've still room for dessert ?"
"I've an invitation to the Club-- as Chris. Thought I'd take some dishes through..."
"Okay." Joey nodded, "Who will you be for Supper ?"
"I don't know. I doubt I'll escape from Monty's company, so Chris."
"Ah !" Sue nodded, dug in a patch-pocket, "Time tables ! We print them off for Guests-- here's one for each of you, and a spare."
"Oh, thanks, Sue !" I glanced at the time, then the schedule, "Okay, I'll also be Chris for First Breakfast. How many meals do you expect Rhys for ?"
"All of them ?" Joey quipped.
"Don't be cruel !" Sue elbowed him, "Chris is an Honoured Guest, so any help from Rhys is more than welcome !"
"Okay, okay..." Joey admitted, "Tell you what: Tomorrow, I'll lend Rhys some books, a note-pad and a bunch of old menus. If she doesn't show up, she's studying..."
"Neat ! And, thanks ! I don't want to get too predictable." I nodded, gathered our empties and left them stacked in the wash-up area. After washing my hands, I took a deep breath and stepped into the changing room. My walk back to 17 was less fraught because I got courteous nods instead of puzzled glances. I entered 17 as Rhys, stripped, went through to 19, used the wash-room, dressed and emerged as Chris.
Five minutes later, I stepped into the Club for the second time. Again, all the heads came around. This time, they hooted, called me in. Elder Monty pulled rank, led me to a low table flanked by wide couches, "Chris, RogueBane: Elder Frank, Elder Vine, Elder Weft you know. Elder Lime regulates the Tannery, Elder Hope is Creche-Mother. Elder Fern tutors the Senior students. Elder Book also tutors the Seniors, and keeps the Chronicle. Elders Justin, Ralph and Brodie send their regrets, as do Elders Pearl and Chain."
"I'm honoured ! Thank you !" I hesitated, "Sorry, I really don't know what else to say..."
"Don't worry !" Frank grinned, "You've said enough today !"
"Indeed !" Elder Lime nodded, "From your first words, you confirmed Elder Monty's selection."
"Very kind of you... " I admitted, "But I did fall into this by accident--"
"Nonsense !" Elder Book interjected, "There is Accident, and there is Serendipity ! You cleave to the latter !"
"Fortune favours the prepared." Elder Hope stated.
Elder Vine nodded, "You inspired my Juniors-- They will speak of nothing else ! One thought: Did you jest when you spoke of tricking that Slayer ?"
"I made light of her failings. She's a Slayer, it limits her options. But I did so beat her at 'Scissors, Paper, Rock' in the conference bar... Which leads me to an interesting question: What does a RogueBane do ?"
The Elders laughed. Monty answered, "As you do ! You act with us Elders' authority. Reason with Rogues-- and if sense does not prevail, you may kill."
"No euphemisms. " I nodded, "I like that. Any retired RogueBanes I can talk to ? Discuss tactics ?"
Sadly, no. There has been no RogueBane in this Nest for many years."
"Ah... Sap many ? Vamp many ?"
"Your Civil War--"
"Yerk !!"
"One advantage of of our large and very settled Nest." Monty allowed, "Small Neighbour Nests suffer, but remove the threat to us..."
"Safety in numbers." I nodded, "Okay. Okay, I see the benefits. And, with Amnesty, you have the Sap authorities on your side, too ?"
"There is that..." Monty admitted, "But--"
"Hold that thought..." I worked an implication through, "The school: It has built a lot of links with your Neighbours. You now feel responsible for their protection, too ?"
"Yes."
"And I'm doing the job already, though from the Sap side." I nodded, "Thank you. So the problem is persuading other Nests to accept your RogueBane ?"
"Yes..." Frank sighed, "Even I was expecting some-one taller..."
"You handled it well. " I grinned, "I've had Rogues ignore me, thinking I was a 'Stalking Horse' for the real Hunter."
They laughed and hooted.
"If you will pardon the question..." Elder Lime put, "How do you attract their attention ?"
"Ketamine dart." I shrugged, "If there's time, I've a Trank-gun. Between the tag and the drug-haze, a bunch see sense. If I'm Rushed, its my P46."
Frank shook his head slowly, "You are a cool Sap, I'll grant you that !"
"Ketamine ?" Elder Book puzzled, "Surely that is too slow ?"
"Not SOTM's mix." I shook my head, "I've got to carry an air-way and styrettes of antidote in case of a bad reaction. Air-way's also useful if I've shot them."
"You would give a downed Rogue CPR ?"
"Five... " I counted, "No, six."
"Did they live ?"
"Three took Amnesty..." I hesitated, "Two bled out. One is completely mad."
"There are losses in every trade..." Elder Lime quoted Kipling, "But what of Rogues who accept Amnesty ?"
"Usual rules: They gotta 'fess up and take their lumps." I shrugged, "Crown Prosecution Service run them through the 'Scene Of Crime' database to be sure. Worst case, Rogues can plead 'Diminished Responsibility', reduce Murder to Manslaughter. Same for old stuff: There's no 'Statute of Limitations' on Murder, but Manslaughter gets a Concurrent sentence or Conditional Discharge."
"What of the conditions inside your so-called 'Salt Mine' ?" Elder Fern wondered.
"I can answer that." Elder Frank stated, unexpectedly, "Look around."
He got puzzled looks.
"SOTM's so-called 'Salt Mine' is both a prison and a 'Secure Hospital', but it is pleasant. Prisoners have similar rules to HomoSaps-- they may write home. The conditions, menus and nutrition are public record. The regular Prison Visitors' system checks such claims. Us Traditionalists doubted. Then we suspected a trick. Then we thought it was a show-case wing, and the rest was dirty, noisy, damp and bright. But, no. When SOTM asked for details of a Nest's environment, only Progressives spoke. SOTM honoured their specifications."
Several Elders muttered and shook their heads unhappily.
"Yet it is a prison !" Elder Frank confirmed, "Several Rogues have lost remission for 'Riotous Behavior' and other misconduct."
"They were not shot ?" Elder Lime puzzled.
"Seems not..." Frank allowed, "Though some detail is censored from letters.... Chris ?"
"I only know what is on public record." I shrugged, "I'd guess at a couple of tricks. Reduced Oxygen and/or increased CO2 percentages makes Vamps keel over, go torpid. So, bleed Nitrogen into a corridor's air-con or squirt a CO2 extinguisher into a cell could do the trick. Tear-gas, pepper-spray or flash-bangs have clean-up issues. But there are crucial differences to a normal prison. It is underground. It relies on forced ventilation. If all else fails, the Governor could key the breakers and wait. Also, because of Vamp venom, warders have a special clause in their contracts. Hostages must be assumed 'Bent', their freedom is non-negotiable."
That caused some more muttering. Elder Lime voiced a common fear, "Has any Rogue's kin attempted to coerce a warder's family ?"
"As far as I know, only once. SAS dealt with them. We had to run DNA on those three Vamps' body parts to match them up."
"That-- That seems a little excessive."
"Seems SAS have a rule-of-thumb: no such concept as Overkill, only 'Re-Load' and 'Cease-Fire'. From the sample contamination, I'd guess they used a Claymore mine, mortars and lots of bullets. I think the message was received and understood..."
"Have you much to do with the SAS ?"
"Once was enough..." I shuddered, "They de-briefed me after the Unquiet 'Stans Incident. If they're like that with their friends, I pity their enemies."
"What happened ? Can you talk about it ?"
"SOTM's Shrink says I should, mitigates PTSD: Well, when I got back from the 'Stans, I was sent an invitation to visit Credenhill, to discuss both my experience in the 'Stans and the nuances of Rogue Hunting. Can't say I was happy about it, but I was given to understand they'd been 'Plan B' if our Blue Helmets failed."
"You owed them, if only by proxy." Frank nodded.
"Didn't start well: as my file-copy read 5-/O instead 5-0, they took some convincing I was me."
"Expecting Some-one Taller." Monty chuckled as Frank winced.
"Then they thought I was Walting. But, I'm a HotZoner. That was unarguable. Eventually, they conceded I might be for real...
"After that uneasy start, I was led to a conference room and lengthily quizzed on Rogue Hunting. They did not want to believe. Those heavy-hitters did not consider the dinky 4.6 a man-stopper, never mind a Vamp-stopper. As I'd then six to my credit plus a couple of Amnestied, my system needed checking. They led me to an indoor range, had me plink some targets. My scores proved my P46 and I did have a Rogue-shaped sweet-spot, made them suck their teeth. So they took me to their urban pop-ups, let me pith those. My technique was a bit stiff, I had odd ideas of where to place shots, but I could reliably stop Vamps. And I'd not shoot once to kill if I could fire twice or more to disable. Then I mentioned that their Rush targets felt a bit slow. They cranked up the speed until I was happy. I still hit where and how I pleased. As it was their ammo, I burned through a lot proving it was no accident.
"Dinner in the Mess was a thoughtful affair. I had nothing but respect for them. Unfortunately, my methods broke all their rules-- and worked for me. I drank only lemonade, took an early night in the Guest room supplied. I knew their reputation for unorthodox hospitality, took a few precautions. A couple of minutes after 3 AM, the door burst open and a bunch of howling Jihadists swarmed in. They pounced on the bed, bundled its occupant in the bedding and ran out. Well, they got as far as my heat-pad's taut cable before realising something was wrong. My pajamas were stuffed with rolled blankets, the head was a hand-made Scream-mask. There was scant space under the bed, but I was there, curled in a dark blanket, clearing the safety from my well-cleaned P46 and its 20-round mag...
"No names, no pack-drill: They re-made the bed, re-wired my heat-pad's wrenched plug, re-hung the door with full-length screws in the hinges, vanished into the night...
"Next morning, they invited me to inspect my crate --How did they get it ?-- and their realistic mock-up of my 'Stans cave. They even had my blood-stained rock. I pointed out some discrepancies, they walked me through my escape. They made me identify, handle and fire the AK47 variant I'd liberated, discuss the grenades I'd lobbed. They traced Bill, my nice Canadian Master Sargeant, rang him at home and spoke to him at length. After lunch, we again discussed Rogue hunting before they put me on a train home. I must admit I spent most of the journey watching for ambushes and Black Helicopters..."
"Paranoia ill becomes you !" Frank chuckled, "Did you hear any more of it ?"
"Just one thing: Bill now gets a Christmas card from The Regiment...."
The Elders hooted. Monty glanced at the clock, "Ah, coming up to Supper ! Would you eat with us ?"
"Only a snack, if you don't mind." I nodded, "I need an early night."
We streamed through to the Diner, where the menu was soup and rolls. I nibbled a roll, drank tomato juice. Joey had gone, I did not recognise the two Dinner Ladies helping Lara. She noted my company, said nothing, but met my eyes and smiled kindly. After a protracted supper and small-talk, I made my excuses and headed for 19 to collect my Lederhosen.
Took me a while to find my original VIP Guest Room. Thirst things first. I stripped, did my business, got clean. I put my fangs and contacts in soak, brushed my teeth and pulled on the supplied night-shirt. That classic coffin beckoned. I checked for ventilation, hidden catches, bolts or spikes, found no traps. The 'satin' lining was a modified sleeping-bag, held by copious Velcro. There was a modest mattress underneath. I set the alarm-clock, dimmed the lights, clambered in. With my head on the pillow, I could still reach the half-lid. It swung down.
Quiet, dark. No traffic noise, no street-glow, no neighbours' teething kiddies, no boom-boxes blaring from cars at the take-away opposite, no jets on red-eye flights, no drunks, no Karaoke-clubbers, no sirens, no Police helicopters...
I grinned. I could enjoy this !
'Busy day tomorrow.' I told myself, tuned out. I had apocalyptic dreams, of course. But, in my line of work, that's normal.
