Roen’s last panel couldn’t come fast enough. It was nearing dinner time and his stomach growled so much he barely paid attention to the discussion. It was something about removing flamethrowers from the list of approved armaments. The only other items on the banned list were nuclear bombs and biological weapons. The former was banned after Chernobyl, while the biological weapon ban was enacted after the Prophus lost control of an artificial strain of polio, one that ravaged the United States in the mid-twentieth century. The Prophus did, however, make a large profit selling the cure.
Supposedly, the intense heat from the flamethrowers toxified the air and killed Quasing trying to escape dead hosts. It was probably true, but again, wasn’t that the point? Roen thought that there was little chance this resolution would pass. It became a short panel when it was revealed that the Prophus owned stock in two of the major companies that manufactured flamethrowers. Afterward, Roen decided he’d had enough and headed toward his room.
Sonya met up with him as he walked down to the lobby. She put a hand on his elbow and escorted him to the elevator, giving him not-so-gentle nudges to hurry him along. “Listen, Roen. Tonight, go to your room and stay there. Do not come out no matter what. Remember, all the hotel staff belongs to one of the factions, so if anyone from the staff doesn’t give you the code phrase, do not open the door. Barricade your windows with furniture. Take this and keep it with you at all times.” She pressed a telescopic baton into his hand.
She added, “The Prophus wing should be safe, but I’m not taking any chances. This is your first night at one of these conferences and you might as well have a bullseye strapped to your back.” She pushed him into the elevator and gave him a small smile just as the door closed.
“Does something weird happen at these things at night? She sounded like everyone turns into werewolves or something once the sun sets.”
They are all wolves already. They just shed their sheep’s clothing once the sun sets. Sonya is right. Newer agents are frequent targets at the Decennial. Do as she says and make sure your windows are barricaded. You never know when an assassin might try to enter through that point. The Genjix side is outside our window, so make sure the curtains are closed and there’s furniture in front of it.
“Every time I think you guys can’t get any more ridiculous, you prove me wrong.”
Imagine what it was like before they forced us to disarm at these things.
That night, the hotel sounded like a haunted house. One minute it was dead quiet, and then the sound of heavy footsteps rumbled down the hallway like a stampede. In the distance, occasional screams and the sound of glass shattering punctured the night. At least twice, the building shook. At one point, his doorknob rattled like someone was trying to get in. On another occasion, Roen swore he saw the faint red dot of a sniper rifle pass through the gaps left open by the dresser he had moved in front of the window. All in all, it was a very restless night.
The next morning, he half-expected to step into the hallway and find dead bodies strewn about or blood sprayed all over the walls, but when he cautiously poked his head out of his room, everything appeared normal. In fact, Roen began to think he imagined everything from the previous night until he met up with several others for breakfast and heard the grim news. The Genjix had struck first. By everyone’s count, two Prophus and one Genjix were confirmed as sent to the Eternal Sea last night. Ten delegates were abducted on their way back from a late panel.
“That’s twelve Prophus. This is a disaster! How did it happen?”
The rules of the conference are very explicit. There is to be no violence during the tenure of the four days. Anyone proven to cause violence forfeits themselves to the Eternal Sea. The key word is “proven.” It seems Jaj was hit through a window while Chau wandered too close to the Genjix wing. The ten delegates must have been a set-up.
“How did you deal with this in the past conferences?”
Are you kidding? I was one of the ones lying in wait.
“You’re an evil, evil alien. Doesn’t Command disapprove of this? What if you got caught?”
They only disapprove if you get caught.
Roen had a hard time staying focused during the second day. Anyone could be an enemy. Roen had never wished for a gun more than he did at that very moment. The panels flew by in an inconsequential blur.
Some resolution was ratified that disallowed revenge on a host’s family after the host was gone. It was a pretty common sense and toothless decree. No one worth their secret agent membership card would ever bother going after a host’s loved ones. And if they did, only an incompetent would be sloppy enough to have it traced back to them.
Another hotly contested resolution was the prohibition of assassinating public government figures. Elevating a Quasing to an influential position was a costly and time-consuming endeavor. An alarming number of these prime targets had been assassinated the past few centuries.
The Genjix had brought up the resolution, and support for it was building, until someone brought up the Spanish Inquisition. It seemed as if the Spanish Inquisition was a touchy subject for all the Quasing. A few heated words were exchanged and the entire assembly hall degenerated into a full-blown riot.
Roen was about to jump into the fracas – when Dylan pushed him out of the room and into the arms of two security guards. To Roen’s dismay, after the guards grabbed him, Dylan left to join in the fighting. The last thing Roen saw was Dylan punching a Genjix representative in the face before he was enveloped by several others.
Marc came up next to him and nudged him with an elbow. “I know you can break free from these two hairless apes. Why don’t you do just that and I’ll join you in there?”
For a split second, Roen thought it was a great idea and mulled it over. He devised a plan to take both guards out, pull out his baton, and crush Marc’s skull. It would take just over two seconds.
No, Roen Tan. Just no.
Roen sighed. “Fine. I could take him, you know.”
When did you get so bloodthirsty and stupid? If you are going to be bloodthirsty, at least be smart about it.
The evening found many of the Prophus at the whiskey bar, while the Genjix nursed their wounds at the wine bar. Roen sipped a scotch while he listened to Dylan describe the fight as if he were a Roman gladiator fighting a pride of lions.
“You know I witnessed the whole thing through the door.” Roen chuckled.
“Then you saw the half-dozen Genjix I took out?” Dylan said, pressing his cold drink on an angry bruise just below his temple.
“I did see you disappear under a pile of bodies when three of them jumped on you.”
“That’s how those dirty Genjix fight. It’s never fair, those cowards!”
Sonya and Paula came by a while later, looking like two disapproving mothers. Sonya was furious as she scolded Roen for acting so foolishly and getting involved in a brawl at the Decennial.
“Why are you yelling at me?” he asked. “Dylan’s the one that did all the fighting. I just stood there. Go yell at him.”
She shook her head. “I know better than to yell at that incorrigible jackass. You, I expect more of. I heard the guards had to hold you back. What happened to your innate self-preservation instinct? That was the one quality you had going for you.”