Machine God: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Final Draft)

Stop!

Heck, I couldn't believe I was saying this, but for the first time in my short life, I was glad, yes, GLAD seeing Orden and her soldiers. She marched toward Hecto with her staccato steps and barked.

"Hecto, get off him."

He hesitated but followed up on her command. Not even the mighty brute could act outside the system. The authority was strong with the iron lady.

"He deserved it," Hecto said to Orden.

"That's not for you to decide."

She ordered her soldiers to pick me up. The air returned to my lungs but I still felt as if a stone wheel rolled over me. Orden fired her stare and pushed her face close to mine.

"You're 58 minutes out of the medstation and the first activity you embark on is getting into a fight? Something tells me Konforma's Correction Course went straight through your air head."

The ability to speak returned, although I needed to focus my strength to form a coherent sentence.

"I was just chitchatting...really."

"One eloquent speaker you are."

She glanced at her datapad and swiped some menus.

"Sixty-two hours solitary time in your cell."

"What? But I didn't start the fight."

"All criminals deny responsibility."

"I'm not a criminal. Never have been."

"Then stop behaving like one. Maybe the isolation helps you become a reasonable citizen of the Bulwark Cluster."

"There's no trial? No way to defend myself?"

She coughed up the words that I expected a mile away.

"You don't have the right for an attorney."

And that was that.

Chief Orden waved over her armored serfs.

"Guards, take him away."

With no power to walk on my legs, the two armored men dragged me toward the bar's exit. In the periphery of my vision, I saw Orden barking at Hecto. I hoped he was getting the lecture of a lifetime. The guards schlepped me across the sky bridge, passed the bystanders, some of which pointed fingers and smiled.

First shot, then beaten, now laughed at.

So much for taking the Bulwark Cluster by storm and shooting up the ranks. I should have written a book, 'How to lose trust and alienate comrades'.

The armored men carried me all the way to my cell and threw me onto the bed. With a sore throat, I said,

"Can I have a glass of water?"

The soldier flipped me off and marched through the cell door before it shut down like a dungeon gate. Only this time I hoped the bed wasn't going to shock me.