The entire group were coughing, obviously, seriously, ill. Jay and his mentor Sunshine knew they needed treatment quickly, or they would not make it. But they were also hesitating, conditioned to remain lest their former overlords find out. Fortunately, they knew how to intimidate an individual into doing what needed to be done. In this case, scare them to entering the transport so they could get medical care, and off this forsaken rock. -- Fighting Fit
Jay always thought they were merciless. That was the way of the killer. To end lives without mercy. Maybe even with a little malice. Certainly with one judicial finger on the scales of justice.
It helped that the Alliance knew what Jay was, and set them aside for moments in which people like them could be useful.
Like getting rid of a tumour on two legs, like the CEOs that made entire planets suffer. Every time, it was like killing that shitheel that called himself Jay's father. Over and over again. It was catharsis. It was closure. It was relief.
Mr Sunshine disliked the mess. He was the clean killer. The one who left parts and no other trace that a murder had been made. Jay was the one the Alliance used, "pour encourager les autres". Especially if they didn't take the hint from what Mr Sunshine did.
He didn't leave survivable parts, like fingers, toes, or ears. He left carefully clean internal organs. A spleen. A left ventricle. Part of a brain stem. Things the original owner literally could not live without.
The rest may never be found, but the remains left behind were certainly enough. Most of the time.
That was why Pax Humanis paired Jay and Mr Sunshine for the long term exercises within the most egregious polities. To excise the tumours draining worlds of their vitality so that the remainder can heal. Cleanly... or not so cleanly.
In the spaces between events, Jay got glimpses of the worlds they were performing surgery upon. See those who the tumours were draining. See those who were not the villains, but the victims.
Like the one worker struggling along the street. Gasping for air and coughing once with each breath. Sounding like a large dog exhausting itself with each vocalisation.
They had nothing with them. Wore the shapeless one-size-fits-nobody of the people who worked until they died. And this one looked close to that final corpse pit. Jay was supposed to pass them by and retain their own cover. Ignore this needing soul like so many others did.
Jay couldn't. "Oh my god. Cousin? I haven't seen you since we were little. Come with me. Have a drink." Jay didn't ask for permission, just looped the stranger's arm over their own shoulder and dragged them to the nearest safehouse.
The stranger's name was Tim, and he protested - weakly - that he didn't know Jay. Fortunately for Tim, everyone on the street ignored this. Ignored them both. Everyone was too busy trying to keep their head above water to be bothered with the affairs of someone desperately holding on to the very bottom rung of that society.
Everyone but Jay.
Safe behind a lock, Jay gave Tim some oxygen, and a drink of thin vitamin soup, followed by a bowl of chicken-flavoured Nutri-Food. Now with extra chunky bits. Which was unimaginable wealth even to the middle class on this world.
Tim was trembling when he realised how much he should be owing for this pittance of necessities. "You can do anything y' want t' me, o'course. I-- I just want t' know? How long is it gonna hurt?"
Jay turned to Mr Sunshine for guidance. He regarded Tim as dispassionately as he regarded any other target. The math regarding one life churning through his own internal actuary table.
"He's not on the list," said Mr Sunshine.
"He won't last until intervention," argued Jay. "I couldn't leave him to die."
Three muscles on Mr Sunshine's face twitched. The equivalent of the serial killer going through an entire face journey. Finally, he said, "The pod. The CRC will recognise the need."
"...see-are-see? Pod?" warbled Tim. "I don't understand."
"You don't have to." Jay lifted aside the part of the wall that concealed the emergency evacuation pod. Made to evade all the countermeasures that this polity had to prevent escape. "All you need to do is step inside here. The rest will follow."
Tim could barely walk, he was shaking so hard. He said, "Thank you for the last meal. I'm glad nobody will miss me." He stepped inside. Let Jay strap him in, even though tears still escaped his eyes. "Please tell me? How long will this last?"
"The trip? Half an hour. The rest? With luck... eighty years, give or take. You will feel a sharp pinch, and wake up somewhere new."
The scanners took his vitals, the machine understood the emergency. It safely anesthetised Tim, and launched.
They couldn't save them all, but they could save Tim.
[Photo by Pedro Lastra on Unsplash]
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