Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Hall of records

The Tarre Hall of Records was an imposing building, housing archived records as far back as the origination of the Quorum. It is suggested that it carries deep within its vaults the names of the original settlers and families who arrived from a distant world which was destroyed by its own inhabitants and the original documents of government which are by now thousands of years old. Situated in the center of Nuarri, the building towered over the capital's neighboring buildings. From its upper floors one could see the uniform buildings stretching out like fingers from the capital’s center descending in height with each building until the last and farthest buildings were only a few hundred feet tall. Between those buildings were great gardens which had to be constantly cut back. All cities on Tarre were built this way. However, for as high as the Hall of Records reached up, is also reach down. It was known only by those of the elite class, agents, operatives, and a few politicians, but the records housed underground exceeded in number those which were located for the public to see, and those were the records Wayt needed access to.

Sublevels were more than libraries with counsels and docking stations for individual datapads. There were levels being used by scientist and physicians for medical testing, by agents for training, by inventors for the improvement of life on Tarre and inventors whose purpose was simply to develop weaponry. The Tarre Central Agency held some of its offices in one of the lowest levels along with several members of the council. There was also a level just for access to sensitive information only accessible by high level council members and operatives like Wayt.

Using the information console on sub-floor 93, Wayt swiped his c-tag and gained the access granted to him by the Tarre Central agency. The parameters of his search were at first wide, encompassing any information on Clari. The plant’s resources, trade items, political alliances, cultural and social structures, and of course, persons of noteworthiness were first located and loaded on his datapad. He then selected a narrower search from the personnel files of the Tarre politicians who unsuccessfully negotiated with the governing body on Clari.

Wayt found and loaded onto a crystal the most recent entry of Councilor Bachman from just last month. He moved to the larger console in the center of the room and placed the crystal in to the dock. Instantly, a holographic recording of a portly man in his late 70s was projected. "So this is Councilor Bachman." Stepping back, Wayt observed the councilor and what he had to report as though he were receiving the visual link himself.

"There is no governing body on Clari. This planet is run by a band of criminals who hold their position and power over the people of this planet. Those who disobey are shot. Those who are worth something are paying heavily for their own safety from this mob, and those who are poor simply hide. There are many places on this planet which can hide small groups of individuals. They farm or hunt for their survival, and they are rarely seen in town. The mines are rich with ibenium and the factories are equipped with sufficient materials to begin ore processing immediately; however, the workers will not cooperate. They will not accept Quorum control. They will not even discuss a price for trade."

Bachman pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow before continuing. "I was threatened. I was told to leave or not. It was up to me. They mean me harm.” He was almost pleading with the visual recorder for help. “That Mansfield actually held a pistol to my head and told me I had four hours to leave the planet or be hunted. I am not sure what he meant, but I do not want to find out.” He placed his now very damp handkerchief back into his pocket. “I am leaving within the hour on the first transport I found leaving this wild and forsaken planet. I am still not sure where I am going, but it cannot be any worse than here."

The image was losing its stability. Bachman's face, streaked with stains of sweat and dust, froze and restarted. This time he was looking over his shoulder when he spoke again. "I am afraid that it is not only the criminals who will not see the planet under Tarre protection. One of the local merchants who support the Quorum’s ideals, the tradesman Alrin, helped me to reach one of the outlying settlements and they were far from hospitable. They actually shut their door in my face. I was sent walking back to town." Facing the viewer again, he continued. "Alrin warned me that they did not like outsiders. I offered them credits, education for their children, farm equipment which they were badly in need of, and nothing prompted them to open the door for negotiation. I was not sure at first that they even heard me, but Alrin assured me that they had and that they would never listen. That is what he tried to tell me in the first place."

In the back ground someone could be seen standing in the distance with some type of weapon in hand aimed directly as Bachman's back. The image was shadowed and vague. No real features could be made out, but one thing was clear. This was Bachman's murderer. Bachman was fumbling with the recorders console when the shot was fired. Bachman lurched forward onto the camera hiding the shooter from view. As he slid down, smearing the lens with blood, the only thing remaining to be seen was a tranquil ship yard. The locals' and the ships crews' did not even seem to notice that there was a dead body lying not 15 feet from them.

Rewinding the recording to the image of the shooter, Wayt using the image enhancers to enlarge the assailant and clear up the image as much as could be done. The image showed a tall man, not more than thirty, too young to be truly hardened and working independently.

"Now, who are you?" Wayt accessed the computer core and cross-referenced the image in an identification search. As the computer searched, Wayt took note of the shooter's uniform. He was wearing an old militia uniform. Not his obviously, probably his grandfathers, maybe even his great-grandfathers. A pistol rig hung low on his thigh and he was carrying a bull-pop configuration rifle called a Bull. The Bull was a medium-range rifle designed for no more than 1000 meters, with the barrel making up more than half the length of the rifle, and the magazine housing positioned behind the pistol grip and trigger. This rifle was unique in that it uses a lever delayed blowback action, and it was new. The Tarre Hall of Records has reported that weapons were not being reproduced or developed on the other worlds of Ma’tris. This will need to be investigated and reported on.

The computer had no other image on file to match the shooter. His features were not unusual. His brown hair and long features were prominent in this quadrant of Clari. The only distinguishing feature on this man, aside from the weapon, was a fairly fresh scar on his left cheek which ran from behind the ear to his nose. The recording was not clear enough to determine if the scar was from a burn or cut, but it was apparently still healing.

Wayt focused the image on the uniform that the shooter was wearing. There were no identifying patches; however, there was a patch of material on the left shoulder that was darker then the sleeve. The shape was identical to Clari's 1st regimental patch.

The 1st regiment was commissioned militia only. To become a member you had to be born on the planet and buy your way in. The positions were few and expensive. The rank held by the officer was determined heavily on the amount of credit spent to buy the commission. That created an ownership in the militia, and that ownership could be passed down from parent to child. On rare occasions, an officer would sell their own commission outright. This usually only happened because they themselves were destitute and in need of currency or they had no heir to pass the position to. Being that this shooter's uniform was old and tired, Wayt presumed that the he inherited his commission, if he was even part of that military at all. If he had bought it, he would have had to purchase his own uniform.

The Quorum recently stopped using weapons similar to these over a hundred years ago before the settlement of Clari or Mondi. They had since developed the P-233. Developed by Tarre scientist and based on the same technology as the space craft’s engines using Hydroplasmic pulses in short burst. When used, they would level anything in front of it for 6000 to 10,000 meters. These weapons were distributed only by the Tarre Council by a private consortium. Wayt was thinking that it might be worth checking on the consortium and see if they were developing weapons for Clari. This would be indirect violation of the Quorum mandate. However, this was not his assignment. He would report his suspicions to the council on his next report.

After loading the image of the shooter onto his datapad, Wayt decided it was time to get off planet and begin his assignment. He would need a few things from his residence, first, and then he would make his way to the space port to find transport off the planet surface or possible to Clari directly. It would not take long. With enough credits or the right currency to barter with, Wayt was sure he would find a ship to take on a passenger and ask no questions about his business.

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