Tales From the Terran Republic

Chapter 142: Nightmare on Maxwell Street

Glenn Maxwell, the director of Terran Intelligence, slowly started to regain consciousness. As he did, he realized that something was wrong.

He felt… weird… and he hurt in a way he had never hurt before.

As his eyes opened, he tried to sit up…

He couldn’t move!

Fear!

As his vision slowly cleared, he found himself looking up at a dingy ceiling.

Where am I?

He tried to piece together his thoughts. The last thing he remembered was leaving the office for the weekend. Then, he got into his car and headed for home…

But then what?

He tried to move again. He couldn’t. He couldn’t move a single muscle in his body except for his eyes…

And he felt weird… bad weird. Something was horribly wrong.

He sensed movement to his left and tried to look. There was someone there.

“He’s conscious,” someone said in a thick accent…

It sounded African, but he couldn’t exactly place…

A face moved into view, an old black man was looking at him, holding a scanner.

He was wearing a grey beret.

As his vision cleared further, he saw the crest on it, and his blood froze.

A Zebu!… The insignia of a group only known as The Zebus, the Prime Minister’s old Sol Wars cadre.

During the Sol Wars, nobody dared land on Madagascar… Nobody! If half of what was whispered was true…

Oh no!

“Can you hear me, Mr. Maxwell?” the man asked.

“Y-you have no idea how deep in the shit you are right now!” Glenn stammered. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

The man laughed, along with several others in the room.

“I obviously have some idea, Mr. Maxwell.” he chuckled and then turned to someone Glenn couldn’t see.

“Brain activity is stable. It looks like higher functions are intact.”

“Good,” An entirely too familiar voice replied, “We got the bleeder in time then!”

Bleeder?… What… Oh God, No!!!

Glenn desperately tried to leap to his feet.

“Wow, look at that!” the voice said as a silver-haired woman in a green blazer stepped into view and peered over the man’s shoulder. “He actually moved a little! Didn’t know you had it in you, Glenn.”

“Jacqueline! What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” she asked as she smiled and put on a grey beret… with a Zebu crest!

“What?” Glenn asked in shocked horror.

“I always find it amusing,” Prime Minister Augustine Raharimampionona chuckled as she stepped forward. “It’s the fucking thirty-second century, and people like you still think that every single Malagasy looks exactly like me.”

She crowded next to the man and Jacqueline and peered intently at the scanner.

“So what am I looking at?” she asked.

“What you are seeing is the neural activity of his prefrontal—“

“Augustine, have you lost your fucking mind?!?” Glenn shouted.

“Lost my mind?” Augustine chuckled as she smiled a warm, grandmotherly smile, “Oh no, dear. I haven’t lost a mind. I’ve gained one… See?” she asked as she pulled an articulated holo-screen into view.

Glenn moaned in horror as the screen revealed him partially submerged in some sort of gel…

...with the top of his skull removed.

He stared in horror at his exposed brain pierced in hundreds of places by thin wires.

“Most people forget that before Yellowstone, Madagascar was a minor, insignificant nation,” Augustine said in a warm, pleasant voice. “But two things assured our rise to power. God spared us the worst of the natural disaster, and we were left alone by the raiders. Do you know why the raiders would rather starve than come to us, Mr. Maxwell?” Augustine smiled. “It wasn’t because they were afraid we would kill them. It was because they were terrified that we wouldn’t.”

A warning chime sounded as Glenn started to moan.

Jacqueline tsk’ed and poked at a phone for a few moments, and the alarm went silent…

Glenn realized he was no longer terrified. Somehow that just made it worse.

“Can’t have you popping another one,” Jacqueline smirked.

A cart was wheeled in by another person wearing a zebu beret. On it were clear glass containers filled with pieces of brain floating in a clear amber liquid.

“You…” Glenn stammered, “You won’t get away with this!”

“Yes, we will,” Jacqueline said in a matter-of-fact tone as she scanned one of the containers.

A second cart covered with a drape was wheeled in. Jacqueline lifted the drape, revealing surgical tools.

“No… please… I’ll cooperate! I promise!”

“I have no doubt about that,” Augustine smiled with a warmth that lit up the room. “They always do.”

“When I get out of here, I’ll—“

“Not remember a single thing,” Augustine chuckled in a friendly way as she patted his hand. “Your hippocampus has suffered a rather unfortunate injury. But, don’t worry, we will replace it.”

“I have it right here,” Jacqueline said as she tapped one of the containers on the table. “Don’t worry, you won’t have so much as a single nightmare. It will be seamless. I’ve done this once or twice before,” she added with a laugh.

“Always such a good girl,” Augustine said as Jacqueline beamed at her. “Unfortunately, Dr. Razakanantenaina, the creator of this technique, is no longer with us, but his lovely young assistant remains.”

“And made a few improvements along the way,” Jacqueline added proudly as she picked up a neural probe and a bundle of thin wires.”

“Now, this might be a bit uncomfortable,” Jacqueline said as she stepped out of his view.

“You fucking Zebus!” Glenn shouted as everyone burst into laughter.

“Forgive us,” Augustine smiled brightly, “We aren’t laughing at your plight, old friend. You just brought up an old wound of mine. We weren’t supposed to be zebus. I wanted us to be called The Lemurs, but we didn’t have the wherewithal to make insignia at first. The zebu is actually from our soccer team’s merchandise! We just picked the balls off of the patches! It was supposed to be a temporary measure, but nothing endures like a temporary fix, especially if it is one that you are displeased with. By the time we could make proper insignia, the zebu kind of stuck.”

“Zebus are cooler than lemurs anyway,” Jacqueline said impishly in a childish voice.

“Don’t you start, child!” Augustine laughed. “Do you see what I have to deal with?” She asked Glenn, who remained silent.

She frowned.

“Don’t be like that, Glenn,” she smiled. “This will be much more comfortable for you if you do not resist.”

“I’ll fucking KILL YOU!!!” he screamed.

“Oh, you are going to kill,” Augustine smiled, “Make no mistake, you will kill, but it won’t be me.”

“You are going to be a good little torpedo, just like all those raiders we sent back,” Jacqueline purred as Glenn yelped. “Oops, sorry about that.”

“GODDAMN YOU TO HE—“

“That’s enough out of you,” Jacqueline laughed as a little “beep” could be heard.

Glenn blinked helplessly as he worked his jaw, unable to speak.

“Now you are going to go to sleep for a little bit,” Augustine smiled, “and then we will ask you a few questions. After that, Jacqueline is going to cut and splice and cut and splice until you and I are the best of friends...for the short time you are still on this world, that is.”

She turned to Jacqueline. “I’ll leave you to your work, dear.”

“Shouldn’t take too long to compromise him enough to start extracting intel, a few hours tops.”

“Take your time, dear,” Augustine said soothingly. “We have all weekend.”

Glenn Maxwell tried to scream but instead slid silently into darkness once more.

***

Augustine sat on a wooden porch in front of what appeared to be a simple, traditional dwelling sipping a cup of coffee, when Jacqueline stepped out and sat on a bench beside her.

“Any surprises?” Augustine asked as she poured a cup from the antique thermos sitting beside her on a small wooden table.

“Nothing world-shattering,” Jacqueline shrugged as she accepted the cup. “A few names and a few details here and there, but for the most part, it’s all old news.”

“Well, that is reassuring. Any complications?”

“He cries a lot and keeps asking for his mother,” Jacqueline smirked.

“Tsk,” Augustine scoffed. “You shouldn’t enjoy this as much as you do, child. It’s unhealthy.”

“I never get to do this anymore.” Jacqueline shrugged. “Bugs just aren’t the same. Oh, there is one thing.”

“What is it, dear.”

“There has been no physical contact between any of the conspirators and Patricia Hu’s inner circle since Jon’s little song and dance. He’s been trying for a meeting the whole time.”

“So that’s off the table then?” Augustine mused as she sipped her coffee. “I guess we go with plan B.”

“I’ll make the arrangements, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Jacqueline,” Augustine smiled. “What would I do without you?”

“Use someone else?”

“Must you always be so contrary?” Augustine chuckled as she watched the sun start to set over their beloved homeland, a homeland that she would do absolutely anything to protect...

As she always had.