NOVEL NEXT Chapter 88 - Perdition (III)
[Volume 2.5 | Chapter 88: Perdition (III)]
Waltz Station greeted him with all the grace of a slap to the face. Unlike the gleaming architectural marvels of major Tachyon transport hubs, this remote waystation was essentially legalized government neglect. Cracked concrete platforms, rusting metal awnings, and lighting fixtures where only every fourth bulb seemed operational. The dawn sun shone across a facility designed to process perhaps fifty passengers, which was now overwhelmed by the nearly 300 Dennis Sparrow had crammed onto the Budget Rail.
Speak of the devil…
Sparrow stood at the center of the platform with a megaphone clutched in his pudgy fingers and grimey nails, surrounded by his appointed managers—all Thaumaturges, naturally. The distinction between them and the workers couldn't have been more obvious. Clean clothes, well-fed bodies, and the subtle sheen of sizeable [Instincts] to Siegfried's trained eye. Before them, the crowd of workers had already been segregated with about sixty "able-bodied" Thaumaturges stood at the front, while the remaining Irregulars formed a dejected mass behind them. The organization was no accident; Siegfried had witnessed Sparrow's managers moving through the train earlier, separating "the wheat from the chaff" as one had so eloquently put it.
Siegfried took his place in the front rows alongside Roy and Malleus. They couldn't disguise themselves as Irregulars back when they joined Sparrow's crew back in Fiora and assigned ranks, so they had to hide in plain sight as Thaumaturges—albeit far weaker than their actual abilities. He could feel Malleus's lingering anger radiating from her like heat from banked coals, but he ignored it. They had a mission to complete. Personal feelings were an unaffordable luxury.
Dennis Sparrow raised the megaphone to his lips, tapping it with his finger. The resulting feedback squeal made everyone wince.
"Testin', testin'," he wheezed, breath already labored. "Everyone hear me? Ya lot in the back?"
He pointed to the far end of the crowd.
"Can ev'ryone hear me? You lot in th' back?"
Sparrow crackled through the megaphone, his Fioran accent thick as molasses and twice as unpleasant.
"I said, CAN EV'RYONE HEAR ME?"
A halfhearted chorus of affirmatives rippled through the crowd. Most were too exhausted from the grueling fourteen hour train ride to muster anything more than a mumble.
Dennis Sparrow—Captain Sparrow, as he insisted on being called—surveyed the sea of tired faces. He didn't even bother to mask his contempt and it was clear he saw them as nothing more than expendable labor, tools to be broken and discarded at his convenience.
"Well, ain't y'all just the liveliest bunch! What's the matter? Can't handle livin' like real men for a day?" He guffawed at his own joke, slapping his protruding gut. "Guess that's what happens when ya hire women for a man's job too!"
Siegfried saw Malleus stiffen beside him. Her fingers twitched, and for a moment, he thought she might conjure up a ⸢Bloodflame⸥ right then and there. Instead, she clenched her jaw and remained still, the mask of "Emma Foster" locked firmly in place.
Can't say I'd blame her… Siegfried's own fingers itched to strangle Sparrow, but he reined in his temper.
The gender comment was particularly tasteless; in the domain of Thaumaturgy, such distinctions were largely irrelevant. The Convergence was as impartial as it came when it came to distributing power. That, however, did not mean that the Tachyon Empire was an "egalitarian" society in terms of social expectations. The Great Corruption could not simply erase centuries and millennia of ingrained societal constructs, especially where lineage determined Birthright inheritance and thus aided in continuing a system where men overwhelmingly dominated the apex of society. And, in this backwater station, with an imbecile like Dennis Sparrow wielding the power of his minor title, those old prejudices found fertile ground.
Sparrow cleared his throat and returned to his "speech."
"Now, for them that were nappin' during orientation—which looks like most of ya sorry lot—let Captain Sparrow remind ya what yer all here for! You've been selected—hah!—for the HONOR of workin' on the Imperial Administrative Complex Expansion! The IACE project! The single biggest construction undertaking in San Corona since the rebuildin' after World War III!"
He paced back and forth, his wheezing breath audible even without the megaphone.
"For you flounderwater hillbillies who ain't never seen a proper buildin', the IACE is the expansion of the HEART of the Tachyon Empire's government! We're talkin' new wings for the Records Tower, expanded facilities for the Divine Court, and better infrastructure for the Centrum Supremum itself! This ain't just slappin' together some shacks... no, this here's a monument to the Empire's glory!"
Siegfried's eyes narrowed slightly. The Records Tower. The Divine Court. The Centrum Supremum. All three institutions were housed in buildings adjacent to Helen Vessalius's offices. Pandora's briefings weren't wrong, and it seemed that this construction project would give them perfect cover and access.
"Now, most of ya ain't never seen San Corona before, so ya should be thankin' ME for the opportunity! The Central Spire! The canals! The Imperial Villa! All the fancy shit you dirty-fingered flounderwaters only ever seen in pictures!"
He swept his arm in a grand gesture toward nothing in particular. The ashen haired Bloodhound thought he was imagining a sandwich to grab.
"So let's hear some enthusiasm, people! Who's ready to see the glory of San Corona?!"
A pathetic smattering of unenthusiastic cheers rose from the crowd, and quickly died like flames without oxygen.
"I SAID, WHO'S READY?!"
The response was marginally louder this time, but still fell far short of Sparrow's expectations. His face reddened, and he slammed his fist against his palm.
"Goddamn flounderwaters," he muttered, before raising the megaphone again. "Fine, fine, whatever! Now, we're at Waltz Station. San Corona is roughly three hours away if we cut through the Alexandria Forest, which is exactly what we're gonna do! We leave in groups of 50, first group in ten minutes!"
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
The pronouncement hung in the air for approximately three seconds before the reality of the situation crashed through the crowd's exhaustion.
"ON FOOT?!"
"You gotta be pullin' my chain..."
"After that train ride?!"
"My kids are exhausted, you can't—"
The protests swelled into a roar as the workers were invigorated by outrage. For a second, Siegfried thought they might rush the platform where Sparrow stood, and a part of him—the part that wasn't focused on their mission—hoped they would.
"SHUT YER GODDAMN TRAPS!"
Sparrow's screech through the megaphone was so piercing that even his managers recoiled in sheer agony. The feedback whine cut through the protests like a knife, leaving stunned silence in its wake.
"I ain't askin' what ya want! I'm tellin' ya what's gonna—"
"Bullshit."
One word.
One voice from the very front row, rising from the crowd like a thunderclap. It silenced Sparrow's tirade, and everyone instinctively parted to see who had spoken.
"Rocks, don't—" someone hissed, but it was too late.
The young man called "Rocks" stepped forward, removing his cap to reveal a buzzed scalp and features hardened by years of labor. Standing at least two meters tall, his dark skin glistened with sweat from the cramped train ride, and his muscles rippled beneath his worker's garb as he squared his shoulders.
Siegfried estimated that he was about twenty or so, judging by his appearance. His physique made it clear that he'd worked hard labor for most of his life. There was no doubt he could have lifted the foreman off the ground with one hand if he wanted to.
"I heard one of your managers say there's an Elysium station ten minutes from here," began Rocks with a deep voice carrying without effort. "So why exactly are we marchin' through a forest for three hours ol' Captain Sparrow?"
The crowd murmured in assent. Even the Irregulars at the back of the crowd began to shuffle forward, emboldened by Rocks's audacity. The atmosphere of simmering resentment had suddenly found an outlet.
But it seemed that Dennis Sparrow was more concerned with finding out which of his managers informed Rocks than with actually addressing the complaint.
"Which one of ya told him that, little imbeciles?! I'll have your heads for this...!" he sharply whispered, and all of them shook their heads in fear, none of them willing to admit it was them.
"Or is it," Rocks continued, a dangerous smirk playing at his lips, "that 'Captain' Sparrow is too broke to afford proper transport for his crew? Mayhaps you spent the budget on extra helpings at dinner instead?"
Nervous laughter spread through the crowd. Even Roy snorted quietly, earning a sharp look from Siegfried.
"Ya think we're just mules you can work into the ground? Or are we just not pretty enough for Elysium, eh? We need to bring some pretty lil' maidens to catch yer eye first? Nah, I doubt you would be able to get 'it' up anyway." the towering man taunted, the crowd now openly jeering and shouting.
Rocks was met with resounding agreement from the workers. They had reached their limit. The unfair conditions, the grueling travel, and now being forced to walk for hours on end… it was too much.
"We'll leave! We'll do it! Right, lads?! We'll leave! We can go back home right now!"
"Yeah! Screw this job!"
"I got a wife and kids, not gonna waste time in some uppity forest!"
"I'm a former Legionnaire! Ya can't treat us like this or I'll yap to the Divine Court! I know my rights!"
"Me too! Y'all will get SUED!"
Throughout all of this, Dennis's face spiralled between... give or take six different expressions. From anger to rage to indignation to surprise to confusion to fear... the last one was the most common, and the one that finally settled on his face as he realized the gravity of the situation. If the majority of the workers left, he would lose a huge chunk of his workforce. They were expendable, yes, but replacing them was another issue entirely.
So, he finally decided which approach to use.
If mules misbehaved and disobeyed their orders, then it was time for the carrot or the whip. But in the Tachyon Empire, the carrot had always been a stick.
The stick known as "leverage."
"...Y'all finished?"
The megaphone somehow amplified a low whisper to a sinister hiss.
Rocks crossed his arms, and the crowd fell silent again. The wind stirred the ash on the ground, sending small plumes swirling around their feet.
"Section 47, paragraph 18 of the employment contract you all signed. It states that:
'Transit and lodging provisions for contracted workers remain at the sole discretion of the project manager for the duration of employment, with workers consenting to all transportation methods deemed necessary and appropriate by management.'"
He leaned forward. The platform creaked under his weight.
"And Section 52, paragraph 7 says that 'premature termination of contract by worker without cause constitutes breach of imperial labor law section 1142, punishable by fines not exceeding 8,000 Stella Domina (⟡) and/or imprisonment not exceeding six months.'"
It was…
A trap all along?!
A chill then swept through the crowd. Siegfried felt his stomach twist; he had to admire the trap's elegant simplicity grudgingly. The three Bloodhounds had reviewed their contracts meticulously before signing—they couldn't afford any slip-ups that might expose their identities—but they'd focused on privacy clauses and background check provisions. The labor exploitation angle had never crossed their minds.
"That's right," Dennis continued, and now his smile fully returned in all of its terrible spite. "You already agreed to this. ALL of it. And if you don't like it, I've got the IPA wrapped around my finger. I'm sure they'd love to process over 300 contract violations. Might even make their quotas for the month!"
He promptly gestured to his managers, who were already unslinging water canteens from their shoulders.
"Each group gets five canteens. Use 'em wisely! There ain't no water breaks 'til we reach San Corona. First group assembles at the town exit in ten minutes. Welcome to Captain Sparrow's crew, ladies and gentlemen~"
With that, he turned off the megaphone and triumphantly waddled away.
Rocks was positively frozen. All of the fight in his bones visibly drained from his massive frame. Around him, parents clutched children closer, elderly workers exchanged panicked glances, and even the younger, stronger laborers sagged once realizing that they were essentially slaves.
"What in tarnation..." Roy muttered, "Did y'all—?"
"Nein," Siegfried replied through gritted teeth. "I missed it completely."
"We're actually trapped in this... farce?" Malleus hissed.
Siegfried watched Dennis Sparrow's retreating form like a hawk.
Yep, it's real. And we have to play along... for now.
Because if they broke the contract, they would be arrested and processed by the IPA and possibly provincial Inquisitors, which would mean an immediate game over for them. Their cover as migrant workers would collapse under scrutiny, and the mission to infiltrate the Imperial Administrative Complex and assassinate Helen Vessalius would end in failure.
"Our mission hasn't changed. We continue as planned."
He ignored the incredulous stares from his two companions and turned his attention to the town exit, leading to the Alexandria Forest.
The pain in his chest flared again.
It was a reminder that time was an ever-finite resource.