Aarde: Part 1A

By J.B. Williams and Stephen Zimmer

Holden Hosenheim is a Division 4 Agent, working under the Shio Branch. His job is to protect the Great Society of the Aarde Union and the Connected City, Shio, from the Revivalists, a narco-funded rebel group that produces and sells a memory enhancing drugs called N-Light. It's a hard job that he is content with.

But when an extraction mis

• Language: English
• Publisher: JB Writes Stuff
• Release date: Jan 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989513321

J.B. Williams

One day I was born and decided to just roll with it.

Book preview

1

Chapter 1

Planet: AARDE

System: LYOS

Sector: AARDE [Federation of Sol Systems Vassal]

Date: 20-JUN-2433

Holden Hosenheim never knew his middle name.

But he knows his citizen identification number is 0000-000-0111-505.

He knows it by heart, too. He is not sure if anybody else knows theirs by heart, but if they don’t, shame on them.

As for the problem of not knowing his middle name, he does not care about that. To him, it is trivial, and this has always led to one of three outcomes.

The older, fading generation would show him pity, for the lack of a middle name is the burden of a bastard. His generation would not care, for middle names are a piece of an era that they want dead. They gladly tore apart the past, to make way for the Great Society of the Aarde Union, and many even renounced their middle names as proof of loyalty. The newest generation, those not loyal to the GSAU would look at him with disgust; for not only is he a bastard, but it was his generation that took their future from them. The ones loyal to the established order don’t bother asking his name, unless he is placing an order.

That said, while those not loyal to the GSAU complain about a lack of a future and the fading of the past, Holden is not concerned about their grief. The past is meant to fade, and the future of Aarde will be the same as its present, and as Agent 505 of Division 4, he will make sure that it stays that way.

(((A)))

A convoy of four armored, long blocky carriers bounces down an uneven road. Dust trails them, and a field of tree stumps and dead grass with sparse trees and abandoned homes dot the landscape, with rising towers in the distance behind them. Sunlight shines through the carriers’ tinted windows, and eight armored personnel inside the carrier bob in their seats, with their short barrel rifles held close to them.

All of them are wearing black vests, gloves, and pads, with thick, dark gray underclothes. Their faces are covered by shemagh scarves, patterned with black, gray, and white-feathered stitches. Black hats and thick headphones with mouthpieces rest on their heads, and dark sunglasses cover their eyes. Their vests have D4 and select numbers in white printed on them, and their belts have extra ammo, plus a holstered pistol and a knife, cuffs, and a brown spray can.

The people inside are quiet, and they are a mix of three humans, four avian humanoids called Avus, and a canine humanoid called a Lupinak. The Avus have talons for hands, long and thin tails that reach their knees, and small curved beaks. The canine humanoid has a thick tail going down to his shin, and his ears are stubby, fluffy, and triangular. The Agents’ features are hidden by their outfits, and for the aliens, their tails are covered by sleeves.

"Three minutes to location," says a voice over the radio.

Spray down, orders a human with a nasal voice; he is a small, but bulky man named Quinton Passman, also known as Agent 105, and 105 is printed on his vest.

The team pulls out brown cans and spray themselves with a brown mist that smells like dirt and grass. The aerosol lingers in the air, and some cough, while one of the Avus speaks in a series of chirps and squawks, which makes another Avus laugh, a sound like a warbling whistle.

The lone Lupinak, Holden Hosenheim, Agent 505, pulls out a pocket watch and flips it open. Its gold case is dinged, some green has tainted its surface, and a white dove carrying an olive branch has faded. With it being open, a loud, uneven ticking floats into his ears. The hands on the watch twitch, with the seconds hand retracting one second before jumping two seconds. The minute hand trembles as it moves towards its next mark, and the hour hand remains stiff, only jumping to the next number when the hour is up,

Holden watches the seconds hand move, and he only looks up when Quinton speaks.

Remember, in and out. Nice and quick, says Quinton.

"Two minutes," says the voice over the radio.

The humans clench their rifles tighter, some of the Avus exchange nervous chatter with a mix of chirps, clicks, and squawks, and Holden slips his pocket watch back in its pouch and taps his rifle’s barrel against his snout. The carrier rattles and the convoy turns on a bend, and speeds towards a two-story house surrounded by dead plants, and old rusted and gutted vehicles.

"One minute."

You know the drill. Numbers only. Nobody reveals their faces or names, for any reason, says Quinton.

The carrier grinds to a halt, and the other three carriers speed past them and park on the other sides of the house. The interior flashes green, and Quinton stands up while the back opens to make a ramp.

Go! Go! Go! orders Quinton.

The team rushes out with Holden in the lead and his rifle ready to fire. His boots kick up dust as he approaches a door, passing rusted skeletons of old cars and a shed made of metal. He stops by the door and waits just past its frame, while the others get in position.

"Breach!" orders the voice over the radio.

Holden shoots the doorknob off, and an Avus kicks the door open before rushing inside. There are angry and surprised shouts and glass shatters as the team swarms the interior. Holden is the second to last to enter, and he finds himself in a living room with old furniture and dust being illuminated by the beams of light shining through the curtain.

A group of four male Lupinaks of various colors is on their knees with their hands on their heads, and rifles are kicked to the side by a pair of Avus. Two of the Lupinaks are in their early twenties, one is a late teenager, while the other is nearing forty.

All of them are wearing traditional Lupinak tunics, consisting of light long sleeves, pants, thick belts, and boots. Their attire has simple colors, but their bands have patterns styled in woven, feathered, or knots.

What’s the meaning of this! says the oldest male.

We’re searching the premise, says Quinton as he passes Holden and stares at the occupants. Where are you hiding the contraband?

You can’t come in here! This is private property! says the teenager.

I wasn’t talking to you, Sparky, says Quinton.

"Vegnish cooshki," snarls the teenager.

Quinton yanks out his pistol and whacks him in the jaw. He falls to the ground, clutching his mouth with blood pooling past his fingers and staining his fur and clothes.

The oldest leaps up, just for Quinton to slam the butt of his pistol between his eyes. The Lupinak crumbles with blood trickling between his eyes, and he tries standing again but is kicked in the ribs, and then stomped on the back, before being pinned with the pistol pressed against his skull.

Take them outside except for this one. 505, come with me, orders Quinton.

The Avus speak with harsh squawks, clicks, and hisses as they cuff the Lupinaks, while Quinton drags his victim to the dining room with Holden in tow. As this happens, Holden’s watch ticks in his ears, and his feet test the floorboards and his fist taps the wall, but he doesn’t feel anything strange.

Small teams of Agents are moving around the house, ripping open cupboards, checking drawers, and tearing holes in the wall. Some are also moving upstairs, and others are tearing apart the floor.

When Quinton and Holden are in the dining room, Quinton shoves his victim in the chair, holsters his pistol, and pulls out a scanner and a case of sealed q-tips.

505, help me out, says Quinton.

Holden forces the Lupinak’s mouth open, and Quinto rubs a q-tip along his cheek. Once that is done, Quinton puts the q-tip in the scanner and waits. Holden releases the Lupinak and places his hand on his knife’s hilt, the sheath displaying a faded dove with an olive branch on it.

A few seconds later, the scanner beeps, and Quinton sits down, reading the information with his expression hidden. But Holden knows his brows are scrunched and his lips are puckered. As this happens, the noise of breaking wood and glass fills the air, and the ticking brings Holden’s ears to twitch slightly.

"You are not the owner of this household, Mr. Gorvin Yeshniv," says Quinton.

Gorvin, a Lupinak with brown fur, light brown eyes, dark brown mane on his head, and a thick tail, presses his hand against his wound.

"Gorvin Talos Yeshniv," says Gorvin.

Holden frowns behind his shemagh scarf, and Quinton stares at him for a few seconds.

"Right," says Quinton. Why are you on this property, Gorvin?

I’m watching it for a friend, says Gorvin.

Jarvis Vaan Luken? says Quinton.

Gorvin is silent, and Quinton nods at Holden.

Holden draws his knife and presses it against Gorvin’s throat.

"Jaq!" cries Gorvin.

Quinton leans forward, and Holden’s fingers twitch due to the ticking. His hand slides towards his pouch but stops when Quinton looks at him. When Holden retracts, Quinton looks at Gorvin.

You do know who Jarvis is, right? says Quinton.

He’s a businessman. Real estate. He was going to renovate this house as a summer getaway, says Gorvin.

This is a weird spot for a getaway. And you are house-sitting, right?

Gorvin nods. Yeah, you should see the pool he has in the back. It’s very nice.

Quinton snickers and looks at Holden. I like this guy. He’s funny.

That wasn’t funny, says Gorvin.

Quinton’s voice becomes darker. Oh, so you’re not funny? Then why are you wasting my time!

Gorvin smirks, and Quinton looks at Holden again.

505, do your thing, says Quinton.

Holden presses his knife harder against Gorvin’s throat and begins sawing back and forth, tearing through the layer of brown fur and skin, and drawing blood.

"Jaq! Stop! Stop!" says Gorvin.

Stop, 505, orders Quinton.

Holden pulls the knife back and rubs the blood off on his sleeve while Gorvin leans forward and holds his neck, now stained in red, like his tunic. He swallows, and his nostrils flare as he glares at Holden with his ears splayed.

"Judiez," growls Gorvin.

Holden’s canine ears flick, but he remains quiet while the ticking taunts him, and Gorvin looks at Quinton. Behind Quinton, Agents are still tearing apart the place.

If there is any contraband, I can show you where it will most likely be, says Gorvin.

Any tricks? says Quinton.

No. The shed out there, Jarvis told us not to look in it. If the contraband is on this property, that’s where it’ll be.

Alright, up and at ‘em, says Quinton.

Holden pulls Gorvin up, binds his hands behind his back, and then follows Quinton out of the dining room. When they enter the living room, Quinton snaps at two Avus who are standing by the fireplace, inspecting decorative plates.

Hey, you two, come with me, says Quinton.

The two Avus, labeled as 615 and 622 on their vests, drop the plates and follow Quinton. The plates shatter and Quinton throws his hands up.

Seriously? says Quinton.

615 starts chirping, but Quinton waves him off.

Whatever, follow me, says Quinton.

The group goes outside, and they pass the other three Lupinaks, who are on their knees with their hands on their heads, guarded by four Avus aiming their short barrel rifles at them.

Quinton leads his group around the side of the house, each of their steps kicking up thin clouds of dry dirt, and they pass a few of the abandoned vehicles before they reach the shed. It is a simple structure, made of old, splintering wood and a metal roof.

The door is also metal, but when 615 pulls on it, they find that it is unlocked. A rush of stale, hot air rushes out, making the pair of Avus wave away the air and cough. Inside are coolers, bags of clothes, and boxes of junk.

You two, search the shed, says Quinton. 505, take this prick and follow me.

The two Avus begin throwing out the coolers, bags, and boxes, and Quinton leads Holden near the abandoned vehicles. Holden keeps a tight hold on Gorvin, and the three watch the two work in silence, while the ruckus from the inside of the house provides some background noise.

How much contraband are we going to find? asks Quinton.

Gorvin shrugs. I don’t know. It’s not my house.

Quinton grunts and Holden checks his watch, which earns him a glare from his superior.

Will you stop checking that thing? says Quinton.

Holden quickly puts it away, and Quinton shakes his head.

I swear you’re obsessed with that stupid thing, says Quinton.

Is that a full hunter pocket watch? asks Gorvin.

Holden’s ear twitches, and Gorvin smiles.

It’s a nice watch, but your profession is much too dangerous for it. Maybe you should retire and go for something more peaceful, says Gorvin.

Maybe you should shut up, says Quinton.

I wasn’t talking to you.

But I’m talking to you, and if you speak again, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.

Gorvin’s muzzle scrunches and his ear and tail twitch, but he remains quiet, and the three resume watching the pair of Avus.

A couple of minutes later, 615 stops and kneels as he tilts his head in question. In the back of the shed is a trapdoor with a thick padlock on it. He tugs on the padlock and speaks to 622 in fast clicks and chirps.

622 nods and runs to their vehicle, passing Quinton’s group in the process. Holden checks his watch again, and Gorvin glances at him out of the corner of his eye.

A minute later, 622 returns with bolt cutters and goes to a padlock on the trapdoor. 615 steps back, so 622 can work, and a few seconds of struggle passes before the lock breaks. Then, 622 opens the trapdoor and-

A flash of fire and black smoke blasts Holden, Quinton, and Gorvin back. Shattered wood and broken metal twist in the air and bounce on the ground, as the shock wave shatters the glass.

Holden’s head cracks against the ground, and his ears ring and his vision spins as he lays on the ground, gasping for air. But despite the ringing, he can still hear the ticking.

Dust rolls over the three, but it quickly dissipates, and Holden rolls to his knees and coughs. One arm quivers, and his fingers dig into the dusty dirt as he presses his other hand against his chest.

He wants to take off his shemagh scarf to get more air, but that would compromise his identity. He needs to leave it on.

Off to the side, Quinton lays on his back, groaning and cursing, but before Holden can approach him, a pair of human Agents rush to him and help him up, while the Agents from inside the house swarm outside. They have Quinton sit on his knees, and they put their hands on his shoulders and talk to him, but Holden can’t understand them since his ears are still ringing and plagued with the uneven ticking.

Holden’s limbs throb, and his heart beats heavily. He winces and pushes himself to sit on his knees and feels the back of his head. His head still feels loose and is throbbing, but there is no blood on his hand, and his hands shake as he looks at the crater that used to be the shed.

He takes deep breaths and opens his pocket watch. The hands are still twitching and indecisive, and he sighs with relief. Next to him, Gorvin lays motionless in a pool of blood, with wood and glass piercing him. Then, there are multiple bursts of gunfire and short, sharp screams.

Son of a- Quinton scrambles to his feet, draws his pistol, and Holden follows him while the Agents aim their weapons at the source.

Nearby, the three other Lupinaks lay dead, riddled with holes. Their blood is soaked up by the dry ground, and Quinton yanks down his shemagh scarf, revealing a blocky, yet pudgy, face with black eyes, pasty skin, and thin dark hair.

He stomps towards the four Avus standing over the bodies. They are chirping and squawking excitedly, and one of them kicks the teenager’s corpse.

What the fuck did you birdbrains do! screams Quinton as he rushes to them.

The Avus stop and look at him, and one of the executioners speaks in fast clicks, chirps, and squawks, and is immediately punched in the beak by Quinton. The Avus drops, and the other three lunge at him, but they are held back by the human Agents while the other Avus shout at them in their avian language.

While this happens, Holden pulls out his watch and watches the pair of hands slide along their circular path, with the ticking in tune with the seconds. After a few seconds pass, he puts his watch back and looks at Gorvin’s corpse, and then at the small crater that was once the shed.

He goes to the edge, passing the mangled Avus Agents and the burnt splinters and twisted metal, and he kneels to look inside the hole. Whatever was in there had been vaporized.

Holden rubs his hands together, sits on the ground, and stares at the unending stretch of dirt and tree stumps. Then he reaches up to his scarf and grips its fabric. He is about to pull it down, but stops, drops his hand, and stares out again, and there he remains.

2

Chapter 2

The afternoon sun beats down on Holden and sweat soaks the inside of his hat and scarf. The sun’s rays are dimmed by his sunglasses, and his steps are sluggish as he paces around the crater and ignores the blood in the dirt.

The bodies of the departed have been moved. One section for the Agents, another for the Lupinaks, and all the bodies are covered by weighted black tarps. The ticking is steady in Holden’s ears, and his fingers tap his rifle in tune with its beat. Meanwhile, the Agents mosey around with various items lined up, ranging from boxes to books, and clothes to bags, as well as a rifle, a pair of pistols, and steak knives.

The rest of the Division 4 Agents have pulled down their scarves, revealing their faces. The Avus also took off their hats and headsets, so that their colorful feathered crests can move freely. The only one who hasn’t removed their cover is Holden.

Hey, take off your mask, orders Quinton.

Holden looks at Quinton and sees him holding two bottles of water, with one held out to him.

Holden hesitates but puts the headset around his neck and pulls off his scarf and hat, revealing thin gray fur covering his canine face. Thick, dark gray fur covers the top of his head, and the same color moves down to trace his muzzle and curves down at his whiskers. His gray eyes are also surrounded by dark gray fur, like that of a raccoon. With the hat and scarf off, Holden runs his gloved hand through the thick fur on his head to wipe the sweat off, and Quinton smiles.

There you are. There’s Grumpy, says Quinton.

He gives Holden the bottle of water, and after Holden starts drinking, Quinton resumes speaking.

Xajil Ojin is on his way here, he says. Just a warning, he might not be happy about the mess.

Why would he be happy? asks Holden, his voice having a low growl. We have four dead suspects, two dead Agents, and a hole in the ground.

The good news is that all these Lupes were in the system, so we aren’t at a dead end. We search their records, scout their internet history and bank accounts, interview associates on their social media friends list, et cetera, and we’ll be back on Jarvis Vaan Luken’s trail.

Holden grunts and Quinton sips his water.

Don’t get moody with me. You didn’t have to kill anybody today, says Quinton.

"They didn’t have to kill anybody," says Holden.

They were resisting arrest, and that’s the story we’ve all agreed on.

Holden grunts, sips his water again, and looks at the Agents standing around or working. The ones that are working are taking inventory or photos, and the ones standing around are doing it in the shade offered by the house.

By the way, we have fifteen minutes until Xajil arrives, says Quinton.

Holden checks his watch and returns it after a few seconds while looking at Quinton.

How did they resist arrest? asks Holden.

They shot at us. The teenager got up close and personal, so I decked him, but he kept at it, so we shot him, says Quinton. As for you? You did nothing special. All you did was blast the door. You got nothing to worry about, other than making sure your paperwork matches ours. So…

Quinton puts his hand on Holden’s shoulder and leads him to the group under the shade, while whistling to the others and ordering them to huddle up. Once everyone is bunched up, Quinton starts speaking.

Here’s the deal, Xajil Ojin is coming in less than fifteen minutes, and we got a mess, so let’s make sure our story is airtight, says Quinton.

Will the Lupe cooperate? asks a human Agent; he is labeled as 344 and has light brown skin and a shaved head. He is Victor Viken.

He will, says Quinton.

The group stares at Holden skeptically, and he calmly sips his water.

We don’t have much time, so let’s get started! says Quinton.

The group spends the next few minutes going over the details of their story, and while the Agents are frantic and stressed, Holden is calm on the outside. On the inside, his thoughts are a blur. This leads to him frequently checks his watch while struggling to keep his ear from twitching due to the ticking.

Fifteen fast minutes later, Holden hears a faint mechanical scream that gradually gets louder. He looks in the direction of the sound and sees a dot in the air rapidly approaching their location.

Xajil is coming, says Holden.

Quinton turns to where Holden is looking, and waves everyone out of the shade.

Alright, let’s look pretty for the boss! says Quinton.

The Agents scramble around, doing last-minute checkups on the assorted items and parking their vehicles in a neat row at the edge of the property. When the screaming engines become noticeable for everyone, Quinton orders everyone into a line, and it goes Avus, then human, and lastly Holden. He puts his sunglasses and hat back on, and he rests his hand on his knife hilt as the dot gains features.

Hey, get your hand off that thing. What’s the matter with you? says Quinton.

Holden removes his hand, and Quinton sighs and puts on his hat and sunglasses. Holden is quiet, and he stiffens like pulled wire when the craft is above them with the sunlight reflecting off its black paint and tinted windows.

The multiple screaming turbine engines force Holden’s ears down to dull the pain, and thick clouds of dirt are kicked up with the rushing air pushing against the Agents. The craft is large and looks like a metal brick, with stubby wings that have fat turbine engines on their tips, and its long tail has two more small engines. All four engines are on ball-and-socket joints, and the nose is like a dull spear tip.

The engines rotate as the craft slowly lands with four legs unfurling from beneath it. The legs buckle a bit when the craft lands and the engines die down, leaving overlapping hums that vibrate Holden’s ears. He flexes his hand, and his eyes focus on the craft, as a pair of miniguns roll out from beneath it, and a ramp opens from its underside.

After the ramp touches the dirt, an elderly male Avus walks out with four escorts wearing Division 4 armor and armed with short barrel rifles. The Avus they are guarding has red plumage with a purple crest that has black tips. His eyes are gold, but they are weighed down with dark bags. His small, curved beak is also black, with a gold stripe running down the middle, between his nostrils. His talons are quite sharp, too, and his tail mimics his crest’s pattern.

He is also wearing a black suit with a red tie, and a gray vest with a gold chain hanging from his pocket. This is Xajil Ojin, Director of Division 4, Shio Branch.

The Agents are quiet as Xajil approaches them with steps that Holden can barely hear, and when he stops, his eye ridges scrunch slightly and his round, gold eyes dart over each of them. He puts focus on the Avus Quinton punched.

No one moves, and the guards watch the Agents while the old Avus walks to the crater where the shed stood. Xajil stops for a moment to look at the dark red areas where the bodies used to be, and then resumes going to the shed’s crater.

He looks inside the crater, his crest twitches, and then he goes to the two dead Avus Agents and lifts their tarps. After inspecting their bodies, he returns the tarps and goes to the line of dead Lupinaks. He looks under each tarp to inspect their bodies. Several minutes pass before he goes to the house.

Holden tilts his head slightly and sees Xajil inspecting the door he shot. He looks back when Quinton clears his throat. Holden blinks sweat out of his eyes, and his ear and nose twitch as time ticks by.

The ticking from his watch is loud, and four Agents in front of him, two Avus and two humans, smell like the dirt spray. When Xajil returns, he is talking on a phone with bird-like noises, and when he hangs up, he stops in front of the group and looks at Quinton.

Quinton Stool, step forward, says Xajil; he has a slight hiss in his heavy, gravelly voice.

Quinton obeys. Yes sir?

I told crime scene investigators to remain back until I gave the call for them to move forward. I just finished the call. Is there anything you want to tell me before they begin their investigation?

No sir.

Nothing at all?

Nothing sir.

Step back in line.

Quinton goes back in line, and Xajil talks to the Avus Quinton punched, and when that talk ends, he goes to Holden. Despite the older Avus being in front of him, Holden still looks past his shoulder and sees a cloud of dust approaching them.

Holden Hosenheim, is there anything I need to know before the CSIs begin investigating? asks Xajil.

Holden hesitates. There was…

Quinton’s jaw tightens.

Trouble. The four Lupinkas resisted arrest, and the shed was rigged with explosives, says Holden.

Xajil scrutinizes Holden, and the Lupinak stares back, digging his fingers in his palms to hide the shakes. He lets spit pool in his mouth to keep himself from swallowing. When Xajil looks down to pull out his watch, Holden swallows, and then his eyes look at the Avus’s hunter pocket watch. The gold plating is smooth and polished, without any symbols, and when he clicks it open, he sees the hands are going their route without any numbers or symbols to show him the time. The watch is also completely silent, with the seconds hand traveling smoothly in its circle like an ice skater.

When Xajil closes his watch, Holden’s eyes snap up, and the Avus looks at the line of Agents.

All of you get back into your vehicles and return to HQ. CSIs will take it from here, says Xajil.

The Agents quickly return to their respective vehicles. Inside Holden’s carrier, Quinton takes a deep breath and then laughs. The driver, an Avus, starts the engine, and the carrier rumbles to life and leads the way down the road. One by one, like a thread, the other carriers follow, and Quinton moves to Holden’s side and slaps him in the arm again.

You had me worried there for a second, says Quinton.

Holden’s hands tremble and he takes a big gulp of water, while Victor leans forward.

Don’t scare us like that, says Victor. I thought you were going to rat us out for a second there.

Holden takes another big gulp and then throws away the empty bottle, and Quinton laughs again and pats Victor’s leg.

You know, from the raid to the bomb going off, and now this… Man, I can use a drink! Bar after the paperwork? says Quinton.

Hell yeah! says Victor.

The other Agents voice their agreements, and Holden bangs his head against his seat. He rubs his shaking hands together, then pulls out his watch to check the time. After that, he returns the watch, closes his eyes, and lets all the outside noise fade away. Soon, it is just him and the ticking in the darkness.

Ti-Tick. Ti-Tock.

Ti-Tick. Ti-Tock.

Ti-Tick. Ti-Tock.

3

Chapter 3

Darkness surrounds Holden. Ticking thumps in his ears, and cold, sharp wind rushes past him with flashes of heat bashing against him. There is a mechanical screaming behind him, and metal tears and glass shatters as alarms sound off.

Each alarm brings a small flash of red in front of him, slowly revealing a console with broken screens and a steering stick. The ticking gets louder, and the darkness breaks to clouds of various shades of gray rolling over each other. Flecks of snow slip through jagged holes in the windows. Firelight reflects off the interior, and when the clouds