The Resistance, as it was so originally called, had started in the depths of this very compound with the few shapeshifters who roamed freely and the guards whose consciences ate away at their sleep. Viktor Nicklaus Hartmann had been a part of the organization since its inception, and it so happened that he was one of the guards whose conscience ate at his sleep. His conscience was a little less hungry these days, but it still nibbled at him sometimes.
The Resistance was so small and so secret that its resistance often went unnoticed. Viktor’s goal was not a revolution, but simply, as the name implied, resistance. His focus was on getting as many of these shapeshifters out as possible. He had connections on the mainland and many of them involved shifters he himself had freed.
When he was thirteen, the government had decided that the large population of shapeshifters was not, as many had thought, a blessing or a gift from the gods, but a threat. Viktor had already started security school when they started Collection, as they called it, but if he had started any later, Viktor might not have started at all. As it was, he was now an accomplice of what he knew would one day be a crime against humanity; he was an accessory. To other guards his night-work would be unthinkable. To Viktor Nicklaus Hartmann it was unquestionable.
It was this that he explained to Neal Grover, the new recruit. The boy seemed less scared afterwards.
Still there was not much time; there was a new subject to extract, and the Resistance needed this Neal Grover. But he needed to be on board. Viktor walked out to where Neal stood in the empty space between the table and the door. He pulled a small pocketknife out of his pocket.
“Are you prepared to swear in?” he asked. The boy looked slightly apprehensive, but there was no time for that. The boy was what they needed. He would swear in. Viktor sliced his own palm first, where it had been cut many times before, once for each new member. He held out his other hand for Neal’s. Neal hesitantly held out his hand. Viktor wasted no time. He grabbed the boy’s wrist, sliced the palm, and offered his hand. They shook, one time curtly and firmly, and Neal had joined the Resistance. Acardi offered him a Band-Aid, which he gratefully accepted, but Viktor let his cut bleed.
He folded his hands together and once more commanded the room.
“Now,” he started, “we have plans to finalize.” He spread out a few ink-stained pages that were sitting on the table. “We must prepare for the immediate extraction of the subject know as Vulpes macrotis, the kit fox.” Neal opened his mouth and looked at Acardi questioningly. Was that the girl from earlier? Acardi nodded. Neal looked back at Viktor. “The full extraction, regretfully, can not be immediate, but we should be able to bring her to a secure location in the compound. Grover, Acardi, you will be taking the afternoon off that day.
“Grover, your job is to bring the subject to the secure location and conduct the pre-extraction interview and lead the subject to the extraction location where Acardi will be ready with the car. Norv will show Grover the secure location where we’ll keep the subject.
“As soon as they notice that she’s missing, they’ll sweep the compound, find nothing, and send out as search party. Once they do that, Grover, you’ll get a signal. I’ll page for you to come to my office. It’s close to the overseer’s but not too close. You’ll bring the girl in handcuffs, but explain to her that you’re there to help. Gods know, she’s gone through enough in the past week; she doesn’t need to suffer any more.”
Viktor bit his lip and looked down at the table. And in that moment, Neal didn’t see Viktor Nicklaus Hartmann, fearless leader of the Resistance, he saw an older brother, a cousin, maybe an uncle; he saw someone who cared. Viktor shook off that moment an instant later.
“In my office she’ll change into respectable civilian clothes. From then on she’s your cousin, picking you and Acardi up for a family reunion. Extraction happens in two days, Grover, on a Friday. Be ready.” He stuck out his still bloody hand. “Can I count on you?”
“Yes, sir,” Neal answered. Viktor laughed.
“I like the green ones. They’re always so formal. That’s all for tonight. Dismissed.” And the group scattered through vents, doors, and ladders. The Resistance would meet again soon.
Nihilistic Porcupine 