Join the new world

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Man, all the press had been so negative. I thought people liked us. I flung the paper from the chopper as we flew over Cornwall back to base. I was coming back from a plain hilly walking trek on Jersey Isle with the wild “Kuna" Jurišić, the now anti Goshawk environmentalist. We’d made a media event out of the ceremonial “changing of the guard”. He handed me a Sabre and one of the louder Journos asked me if this was the end of the Sim Wars. He stepped ahead of me but I winked at my guardsmen and he was pulled swiftly out of view. “The Simulation Wars are over when people want them to be over. Thank you!” They took pictures of me and my camera wife Elsy Edling at the rocky shore. She was really nervous but she hadn’t nearly the pressure I’d been bestowed. The night before I left for Dublin she wished me luck but I knew she hoped my chopper would crash. She’d had an extraordinary life living under Goshawk. A brave new world didn’t need minds like that. Dishonest. Uncompromising. Elite. Before we took off I had her flown to the Parisian Red Zone to perform the charity she had lied about to the press. She never complained. No eye contact. Before I set down in Dublin for the Trial I called to see if she could be retrieved but by then it was too late.

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I don’t know why they keep this tabloid nonsense laying around the commons. It was an effective distraction though, however insipid and wearying. After a cold shower I dressed into my Judicial robes. I looked ridiculous. I could see Winters in every reflection. He haunted my every thought. I was such a fool, so arrogant. I thought I could never care. It was easy to not care about scruffy drones firing blindly at one another in the filth of a trench. Winters always knew how not to be in that situation I guess. Having been made a triumvirate judge in the new Irish Civ led Republic I had no way out until it was finished. I just wanted to go home and hibernate. I knew I’d still hurt for Winters but at least he wouldn’t be brought up, it would give me a chance to think. Siberia is home for a very select few. I enjoyed the silence. Quigley entered my room like a pesky younger brother with no sense of privacy.

“So Raven, you nervous?” he asked, his face downcast. “Of course. It’s a huge responsibility.” I replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. In truth I’d so much built up inside I felt like... Killing Winters, knowing Zilch Unit were nearby, watching me through a scope most likely. I felt like screaming. “We’ll do fine Jackdaw.” I said with a pained smile. “Hmm… Yeah, I guess. Do you ever think… Well, you get, well you get so big and important sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re doing what’s right… Does that sound stupid?” Of course it did, it was exactly something Winters would say. I hid my tears. “Those are the breaks, huh?” I used that line whenever I got truly stuck with these people. “Hmm… I guess so…” replied the Jackdaw, Joe Quigley, sitting there on the edge of my bed. He’d had his hair freshly cropped and was cleanly shaved but their was no mistaking the dread, battle worn look on his face as he struggled with his tie. I fixed it for him. He gave me a sad, far off smile. Then of all G*d’s creatures the reputable Doctor Allison MacAllistar-Payne entered the room, her raven hair loose. “Oh, glad to see you two, I have some ideas on…” I felt a tear shake loose as I held a rigid index finger to my lips, for Winters, for peace, for silence.

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I sat up in bed reading my own name in the paper. I felt opgewonde en senuweeagtig selftetyd. Little Tadgh was dashing around. I was a person in the paper and my son was walking. So much was changing so fast. Stevie, in his calm steady manner, had us up getting cleaned and prepped before we were even properly conscious. I was still feeling nervous yet exhilarated. This was a big event and I was part of it. I met up with Raven and Jackdaw later, both seemed rather distracted, but I mentally wrote it off as nervousness. We had a big folio for the case ahead of us. I looked through it but it was about as interesting as a phonebook. Why had O’Flaherty made me responsible for the minutes? Nastya was Head of Intelligence. Seemed unfair but orders are orders. Our first case was Tideman. We’d to send him back to E.L.F custody, simple as that, ‘n meer formaliteit.. I asked Raven and Quigley but they both seemed miles away. I read the dossier. We’d two hours to read it before the trials began, not really enough to go through everything properly.

Quigley and Raven stared out at the growing Civ/Media mob outside Liberty Hall. Soon they breached into the Court and filled the Gallery. Tideman wasn’t guilty of anything in Irish law, that much was clear, but we’d the right to send him to another jurisdiction. President Sander Sepp’s Baltic Confederation would take custody of him and go on from there. The other two seemed uninterested so I took it upon myself to clear it without unnecessary wasted time. I walked out in front of the gallery of Citizens and rendered my justice, dressed in my fancy black judge clothes. “Robin Tideman, after deliberation we have ordered both you and your team are to be extradited to the Baltic Confederation.” Tideman seemed relieved until he saw who was leading him away. The triple A’s, in fresh Baltic Confed. uniforms. Nero Unit. Tideman looked up at us, panic in his eyes as both himself and his crew of losers where carted off to a certain, severe justice elsewhere.

I walked back up to the corridor satisfied and entered our waiting room. Both Raven and Quigley were lying on their stomachs. “On the ground! Now!!” Quigley roared. I heard four super sonic pings as I dropped down beside them the room showered in glass. Our 8th floor window was open and the rest, I couldn’t say. I heard, “He’s been hit, the President has been hit!” Quigley ran towards the noise. I waited behind with Raven. She looked disinterested, with that same far off look in her eyes. Once I felt like I’d a decent chance, I made a break for the interior and sure enough I was chased with gunshots, but kept going to where I felt I was needed. I found President O’Flaherty with his staff taking care of him and a member of his security who’d also been hit. He sat up at the foot of the gallery seats holding his bloody stomach. He looked at me, his eyes ablaze. He let out a grizzly roar as they applied pressure to his wound. I was about to run back to the med-bay when I felt him grip my robe. “No! They’ll make it all about this! I’ll be fine, deliver the *hack* deliver the people’s justice!”

I handed his staff the key to my special cabinet in case they needed it, telling them what was in there, and watched as they tried to get the President onto a stretcher. “Nonsense! I can walk! You! Have you not got a job to be *hack* doing!?” One of his staff pulled the downed security outjie away. It looked to me like he’d been mortally wounded. Below the assorted media and Civs began to cheer the President on as he made his way slowly off to my med-bay. He waved at them with his bloody red hand. They erupted into a fervor, chanting his name, “Ger, Ger, Ger!” He was one sterk mens. He’d be fine, even though he had been gut shot our medical facility was the best in Ireland, probably even the world. I could hear the masses baying for more excitement. The sun was beginning to set. Commander Claire had teams, squads of jeeps, even helicopters out looking for the sniper. After a brief recess together with a worn out looking Quigley and a shifty looking Raven we made our way back to the Judges stand to preside over the second case of the Tribunal as ordered by President O’Flaherty.

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