Sequel

If you've read Partners the first part will make more sense... Well I think basically it's just Partners readers tagging along. I was wanting to explain how the military knew the program could move back into the building. So here it is. Sort of explained.

I told you all over in Partners that the two would intertwine.

I'm oddly pleased with the rich diversity of religious practices that I can show with a prison/non military setting. The military really doesn't allow for two people of different religions to express displeasure in one another.

Being able to explain things without having to wait for Mik to learn it but still sticking, basically, to my style is lovely. Mik isn't religious so... he has a mild excuse. Though if he did his reading like Koln suggested he'd know what was going on.

Read, Review and Enjoy.




“The Valeasan government is claiming no contest in the United Countries’ charge that they slaughtered one of their own people, an innocent bystander. On the topic of Sidhe rights, the United Countries has simply stated that more time is needed to review the intelligence and capability of the Sidhe,” El, in her new position apparently, shuffled through her papers, “in other news. Along the northern border a tribe of Sidhe were spotted-”

Tribe? Since when is it a tribe? Rel frowned and leaned forward in his seat, hoping to catch the words over the argument that was escalating behind him.

“The first pictures of elders ever taken, along with children and what appears to be babies. These creatures crossed the border without issue and the border guards made no effort to stop them, seemingly knowing that they were coming. The question has been raised as to just how much contact the government has with the Sidhe and why, if the government has such contact, do they not come public about the issue?

“When asked on the matter, President Tilt responded that he cannot possibly keep track of all military revenues and that was why Minister Past was in charge of that area. There is a Minister of military operations for a reason and that we should not bother him. When Minister Past was contacted for information, he refused to comment, citing that he had a hair appointment to get to.”

Which meant that Past knew exactly what was going on and was turning a blind eye to the journalists. Had Nort gotten fired over his mistake? Who was above Nort and between him and Past? Rel struggled to put a name to the phrase and yet the tone of voice came first and the hair, the face. No name surfaced to his mind. He had always been bad with names.

“In other news, four military buildings were raided last week by local officials who claimed that a watch drone saw suspicious movement. What turned out to be suspicious movement were two hundred illegal immigrants staying in a government owned apartment, living rent free while they awaited judgement on their visas. Several of them had taken to sun bathing naked and this is what tipped officials off. The opposition asks why the military can round up such people and get away with housing them at the tax payer’s expense and the military responded that it has every right to make certain that the rights of all people are well seen to, quoting Elshia, mother of Piho, and her plight sixteen years ago.

“Here is a small tour of one of these apartments.”

Wood everywhere. Stone everywhere.

Rel blinked at the entrance way, by the door there was the usual rack for keys and all the knobs had been broken off and set neatly in a line on the counter. There was a bit of scuffing on the countertop right inside the door where someone had been tossing their keys instead of hanging them up. In the kitchen was a new fridge, stove and washer. The fridge was opened to reveal fresh vegetables and there was meat in the freezer, underneath the meat were the military’s standard frozen rations.

Why did an immigrant need both fresh food and military rations?

Through to the living room, hard wood floor underneath without a polish to it. Large, flat screen television set on the wall and entertainment units underneath it. Scribbled on the wall, just where a normal person wouldn’t look, just below the door of the entertainment unit that hid the video player and personal computer, in black ink were the words “Paw was here.”

There was another room off of this one but the crew decided to go up the steps to a second level of the apartment. Plants everywhere. In pots, over turned, herbs and trees and empty pots and bags of soil. All carefully arranged in one of the many patterns of Illuva’s disciples, Rel recognised it from the stitching his mother once did. It meant patience.

Around, by a random pot of water, was an intrusion on the pattern, a pink speckled rock and an old piece of wood, just carelessly sitting there.

Rel frowned at the last image, a view from the balcony of the surrounding places that happened to include a quick pan of a wicker chair that looked like it had been chewed on.

It didn’t make sense. An immigrant with a green thumb had lived there and the military had … what… been more than happy to provide trees?

Rel had seen the so called sterile buildings for immigrants and none of them provided plants. The few that provided electronical entertainment most definitely did not have modern, up to date television sets and personal computers. The fridge and stove were too new and the granite countertops were to expensive to buy for immigrants.

“The immigrants have since been deported or shipped off to more permanent homes, the military stressed that this was a purely temporary stay in an apartment complex built for the aging rich so as to produce a bit more funding for a specific program that they did not provide information for. Those interested in renting the apartments, which have been thoroughly cleaned, can set up an appointment to see the area and a spare unit by contacting the military’s human resources branch.”

“Bull,” Rel muttered, “no one puts plants in the patience pattern just to impress a possible buyer.”

“Boyo!” the guard called over.

Rel sighed and stood from the worn, well patched chair. He approached the guard and looked away, without really looking away. Showing fake submission. The guard’s lip turned up in a sneer at the display.

“New lawyer is here, try to be nice to this one.”

“How’s your wife?” Rel asked once they were outside of the entertainment room, “did the… wisdom help?”

“Oddly,” the guard muttered, “yes. For a boy with a failed marriage, you sure know women.”

“It’s because I like taking it up the ass,” Rel responded in a level tone, “practically am a woman.”

“Who the hell said that?” the guard pulled Rel around to face him, “I’ll beat the little shit.”

“Ah, but long past are the days when Rahl-ta would take the likes of Impu and rape them until they died,” Rel sighed, then looked startled, “Shit, did I just-”

“Keep walking,” the guard muttered as an administrator came around the corner.

To make it seem less friendly, the guard gave Rell a poke to the stomach with his nightstick. Rel muttered something that might have been an apology and turned and walked towards the visitor’s room. Once in the room he slid into the seat and sighed at the older man who sat across from him.

All the money in the world and he got a public defender.

“DeAniege?” the man muttered, looking over his reading glasses.

Rel looked at the man’s ring, scrawled with the insignia of Rahl-at, and swore. The man, in turn, glanced at the tattoo, a prison tat that Rel hadn’t exactly had a choice in getting, that declared him a follower of Illuva. Lips pressed firmly together and the man tried to look relaxed as he snapped the file open and glared at it.

“Should you be here?” Rel asked, leaning closer to the glass, “highly religious Rahl-ta and highly religious Illuva do not get along, like. Ever.”

“I am quite aware of that,” the man murmured in response, “however, most followers of Illuva are bastard children of the bastardized version of Illuva’s bible. So I forgive you.”

“I was brought up with the Blood Bible,” Rel muttered in response, taking great pleasure in watching the man turn a lovely shade of grey, “Anyways. Why are you here? I’m going to be sentenced tomorrow. Death row for the murderer.”

“Do you follow the Blood Bible?” the man asked, pen poised over a pad of paper.

“Yes…”

Something went down on the paper. Rel tried to read it, but the bastard was even using a code to write it out. When green eyes met brown, Rel knew that the twitch in the lips was a smirk. The lawyer knew what Rel was trying to do.

Just as the lawyer likely was piecing together, quite quickly, what Rel was doing.

“Blood Bible says that murdering one’s own kin is forbidden unless an ultimate betrayal happens. I would say that your wife convincing her lover to seduce and rape you so that she could divorce you is more than an ultimate betrayal. Better men than yourself would have killed them both and bathed in their blood.”

“Good thing we’re on the same page,” Rel growled.

“I could appeal-”

“No appeal,” Rel snapped, “I told the last guy the same damned thing and he didn’t like it so he walked out on me.”

“Mm,” something else was jotted down, “is there anything specific you’d like? Solitary confinement? Private cell? Last supper? Priest perhaps?”

“No. None of that.”

“You can more than buy yourself an easier sentence,” the lawyer murmured, “You are THE Rel DeAniege, yes?”

“Yes. I am that man who owns all that stuff, has a lot of money and killed his wife and her lover.”

“Mm, but you won’t confess.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“You just said-”

“I also called myself a man, do I look like a man to you?”

“Bit young…” the lawyer murmured, “alright. I’ll take your case.”

“There’s no case! On death row, they kill me and bury me in an unmarked grave.”

“Ah. So you want to be buried. See, there is a case. The penal code clearly states that all criminals who die in prison are to be cremated to save grave space for taxpayers. And… mm,” the lawyer tapped his pen against his bottom lip, “yes,” something was jotted, “My name is Rahluen.”

“Shitting me,” Rahluen was the last name of the once high priests of Rahl-ta, much like Illuvaen, Tahluen and Deuan, “Thought you couldn’t be lawyers.”

“I go as my god dictates, DeAniege,” stressing the last part of Rel’s name.

Rel shuddered and shifted in his seat uncomfortably, “just because my name is similar to some-”

“Oh, I know about the legal name change, it’s right here in the file,” Rahluen closed the file, “Oddly. It was a pleasure to meet you DeAniege, even if you are a damned follower of Illuva.”

“Just because I follow her,” Rel called after Rahluen as he walked towards the door of the visiting room, “doesn’t mean I’m damned.”

The guard cleared his throat loudly and Rel sighed, turning towards him, “Scare another one off? Already? That’s the fourth one.”

Rel grimaced, “This one wants to stay.”

“Oh, poor, pitiful Rel. Someone actually thinks you might be worth saving.”



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