Scapegoat Options

[Dantrag]

This is in no way TES related, but I figured I'd share anyway. It's already finished, but I'm going to post it in small parts so that it's easier to read.

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Scapegoat


“You’ll do it, or you will face a court marshal.” The gruff General McDowell commanded threateningly.

“It’s a civilian ship!” replied a young man of eighteen, sitting in a chair with numerous electrodes attached to his head.

“Damn it, Cedric, the Russians are using it to transport weapons! Fire now!” McDowell shouted angrily.

“Yes, Sir.” Cedric replied reluctantly as he flipped the single switch on the arm of his chair.

Instantly, the image of General McDowell’s angry face was replaced with a view of outer space from the vantage point of a starship’s bridge. He was seeing through the eyes of the ship’s captain, made possible through the use of a chip surgically implanted in the Captain’s brain. Cedric was now accustomed to the feeling of having a passive role in someone else’s body, but at first it had been one of the strangest feelings he had ever experienced.

“Fire.” He commanded, repeating the general’s order through the captain’s earpiece.

“Yes, Sir.” The Captain replied.

Cedric had no sooner seen the explosion than an entire fleet of Russian ships pounced on them, seemingly out of nowhere. The United States had attacked a civilian starship. More than enough cause for war.

“Retreat!” Cedric shouted at the captain.

The captain hesitated, panic obviously setting in.

“Retreat!” he repeated again, this time more forcefully. Cedric’s vision was reduced to static before he flipped the switch to return to his own body.

“Wake up, Cedric,” a thick German accent woke him.

[Dantrag]

“I don’t want any trouble.” Cedric stammered, unsure if these men were feds or simply hired muscle.

Neither man replied. One raised a gun and fired.

Cedric felt an intense pain in his chest and looked down. “A dart? What the-“ he collapsed then, as the tranquilizer clouded his brain and pushed his consciousness down into darkness.

He came to, and found that someone had placed him upright in an office chair. He sat up, and saw that he was face to face with a man he had seen not too long ago. Ahab Cromwell.

“Hello, Mr. Black.” Cromwell greeted as he toyed with Cedric’s knife.

“Hello.” Cedric replied timidly, as if he were answering a question that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of.

Cromwell put the knife down on the desk in front of him as he pulled up a file on his computer.

“Cedric Byron Black,” he began to read. “Wanted in all fifty-six states for an act of terrorism, former Neural Tactician of high marks…”

Cedric squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, knowing that the file was confidential.

“…Discharged in 2134 for ordering the destruction of a civilian starship.” Cromwell stopped reading and leaned in closer to Cedric. “It’s all bull, isn’t it, Mr. Black?”

“What?”

“The story. It’s bull, right?”

Cedric looked at Cromwell suspiciously. “Why?”

“You were a scapegoat. A convenient person to unjustly lay the blame on.”

“Thanks for the news update.” Cedric said sarcastically, recovering some gall after his initial fear.

“Do you want help or not, Mr. Black?”

“What can you do to help me?” Cedric pressed aggressively. “Hold a respectable job for me? Start me a bank account? Give me a fake ID? Those are all easily traced, so don’t offer me any of this crap.”

“Look,” Cromwell began, obviously beginning to lose his patience. “You’ve survived two years without being caught, which is a miracle in and of itself. You can’t expect this miracle of yours to last forever. You’re going to need your name cleared, and I can help you with that.”

“What are you going to do, hack the Whitehouse database?” Cedric asked, keeping up his cynical attitude.
“Are you a hacker, Mr. Cromwell?”

“No, I’m a revolutionary.” Cromwell answered with a grin. “And I’m willing to work for you if you’ll work for me.”

“What do you want with a washed up Neural Tactician? There are no battles for me to win.”

“Oh, there are plenty of battles, and I’ll need you to utilize both your skills as a Tactician, and your skills as a street thug.” Cromwell handed Cedric the knife.

“I don’t understand.” Cedric admitted, shoving his knife deep into his pocket.

“You have no doubt heard about John Cain’s fate, as well as the Speaker of the House’s untimely death.”

“Yeah…” Cedric said, beginning to see the picture.

“Well the Secretary of Defense is next. I don’t think you will have any objections to his death.”

The Secretary of Defense was a soldier formerly known as General McDowell.