ASMSG Scifi Fantasy Paranormal Emagazine August 2014 | Page 29

SFP Indie Issue 3

The Policeman
A short story in the Dead Planet Series
By D rew Avera
I could feel my communicator buzzing in my left
breast pocket as I strolled through downtown Archea. My
intent to ignore the call was secondary to my need to finish
my assignment. To say that I didn't have time for this was
putting it lightly. In the last year of working with the
Agency I have put down at least twenty hits, most were a
standard procedure of tracking and killing, but this one
was different. My target was a woman who was a newer
member of the Syndicate, at least for now. My brief had
stated that she had been embezzling money through a
series of contracts in order to build up her wealth.
Apparently personal growth and success in the
organization known as the Syndicate, a group of business
class criminals was a no-no.
The hardest part of tracking this woman was that she
bore a resemblance to my sister, Kara. I had seen a
holographic display of Ms. Taggert and it had caused my
blood to turn cold...briefly. My programming had kicked in
and dulled the personal attachment that I was associating
with my target which would allow me to focus on the task
at hand, to kill her.
Downtown Archea was alight with activity. The
solstice festival which was underway was a week-long
celebration that had roots to our earthly beginnings. I'm
not sure of the significance, but it gave most people an
opportunity to lay back and consume copious amounts of
alcohol and opiates. The party atmosphere was both
distracting due to the sights, as well as making it hard to
find Ms. Taggert, whom may or may not be dressed in
festive costumes like most of the people in the square.
"You see anything?" my associate Thom asked as he
appeared from behind the shadows of an overhang. He
was fresh out of training and had been assigned to me as
my protégé. Mentoring in the Agency was something liken
to a big brother program for at risk youth. It was designed
to serve a noble purpose, but most mentors misused their
authority and destroyed the relationship between
themselves and their fellow policemen. I felt a
responsibility to do things differently, though. Perhaps it
was part of my consciousness th at was still intact from
before the brain washing known as programming.
"Nothing, You?" I asked more as a way of reassuring
the fact that he had done everything in his power to track
our target. Sometimes a question that you fail to ask
yourself can be the difference between turning over all of
the stones, or just turning over the wrong ones.

"No, sir," he said. "I even took the opportunity to
survey Pontiff White's Palace to see if he had any guests,"
The possibility of White taking an opportunity to host a
lovely woman in his Palace was not out of the question,
though given the fact that he was little more than the
Syndicate's puppet made me wary to think that he had the
audacity to aid a fugitive. He was usually the first to know
about hits filed through the Agency, unless of course he
was going to be the target.
"Very well, let us go back to Taggert's home. Maybe
she will be returning soon," I said as I shoved my hands
into the deep pockets of my uniform jacket. The gauntlet
on my right wrist made it a tight fit, but I was used to it.
"Are you sure? She most likely knows about the hit
by now," Thom said with concern shown upon his face. I
could tell that he was going to take failure personally. It
was just a part of the programming he received as a
prospect of the Agency. I had the same reactions early on
in my career, it was a notion that dulled over time, but
would never really go away.
"We don't have much choice," I assured him as I
turned to walk back to her apartment. It was an unusually
large complex in a luxurious tower that overlooked the
Archean Sea. Thom followed me the five blocks towards
Taggert's home in silence. It was rare for two policemen to
engage in work conversation in public due to the sensitive
nature of our work, the strategic killing of political targets,
29 | P a g e