Episode 36:

A Guilty Thirst

The rain rattled on the deck awning.

Drops streaked down the window, glistening like drops of honey from the incandescent glow within the lounge, contrasting the dim blue overcast. Couch's stretching down the length of the table creaked from the number of butts they carried. The low tables were covered in snacks, deserts, and would be rather empty if I didn't have an array of hard drinks. Some fizzed with cream, others blazed with flames, and in a few little dancing florescent squiggly lines rattled against the glass - those things being tiny fish.

The Inquisitor looked at her drink and watched the little creatures swim in the liquor. "How are they alive?"

"They won't be," said the lead guard. "Not in a few hours. They're drowning, and they still think they're in water. That and if you drink the cocktail."

The Inquisitor looked at the lead guard's face. He seemed to be saying something else. "I suppose this is metaphorical."

He chuckled. "If I were teasing you, yes. But we both know what happens when I try to tease you." He cleared his throat. "The name's Raphael, and these three fine men are Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Donatello."

"You can call me Madonna," the Inquisitor replied.

"We can call you? Why not your real name?"

"Are those your real names?"

"Of course they are," said Raphael. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"Not yet," she grinned.

Raphael noted the increased suspicion beneath the thin layer of jest. He had hoped she would trust him and the others more. She did make his dull job something to look forward to in the morning, but if her mistrust grew it would certainly ruin the growth of their relationship. What could be the cause of her suspicion? "Don't take this offensively, but why the hell are you so suspicious all of a sudden? It's not like we're back in the kitchen watching you bake."

"Well, you see... Back in the kitchen I was being a bit naive. Maybe its the density of the air, the beautiful interior decor, or the surprise of not bein grim dark dungeonom, that made me optimistic for a bit. Too optimistic, I'm beginning to think."

"So you're saying that your having second thoughts about what you initially thought about us?"

"I was too drunk on optimism. I should've been more skeptical around you guys, a little more cautious and less... mesmerized. Especially with the teasing..." She looked down and rolled the drink in her glass, while her tone remained positive and hid her discomfort as the slight intoxication replayed the past few days.

Raphael, taking the cue that she wasn't in the most confident or comfortable of moods, decided to change the direction of the conversation. "So who were those friend's of yours who were with you when we met? And what is this Inquisition?"

"How many hours do I have?"

"To explain? As many as you need-"

The doors burst open and a guard stumbled through, catching the attention of everyone in the lounge. He collected himself and looked around, but couldn't find the man he was looking for. "Hey chief! We've spotted a UFO!" Hushed gasps burst amongst the crowd.

"Pardon me." Raphael scooched between the Inquisitor and Donatello's knees, and the table's edge. He pushed his way through the standing crowd toward the reception area. "Pardon me. Coming through. Out of the way. Sorry. Excuse me. Coming through. Move please." Out of the crowd Raphael emerged and stood before the guard in front of him. "Francis, hey buddy! Keep it down a bit and get over here."

Back at the table the six drank, ate, and listened.

"And where was it heading?" Raphael asked.

"It was heading to the tenth city," Francis said.

"Ah." Raphael turned to the Inquisitor. "Madonna?"

The Inquisitor gave him a perplexed look for a moment, and then it came across to her. "I have nothing to do nor do I know any more than the rest of you do about the shuttle. And it's not like I can contact them through comms as signals on this planet, other than those that you use based off Xeno technology, are scrambled during a broadcast."

"Couldn't we just send them a message?" Francis asked.

"She just said they have different communication systems than we do, in other words we can't receive or send them a message, nor can they." Raphael took a sip of the Aurora Bora cocktail, the glowing blue squiggle fish lighting up the inside of his mouth, making his cheek's glow. "Which explains why none of us in the fifth city had a clue about our extraterrestrial hitchhikers."

"Should we investigate?" Francis said.

"Nah. The tenth city's business is the tenth city's business. Unless it's a full scale invasion or something else big we have no business over there. As I remember, call me out if I'm wrong, but Clause Delta Thirty Six of the inter-codes forbids any involvement of non-local law enforcement operating in any community unless a state of emergency has been declared. I'm pretty sure that's the first of the Clauses they should've taught you."

"Well it could be major."

"And it's probably not. If we start meddling with another city's business we might just make something major out of something minor. If it's not our business, it's not our business."

Francis opened his mouth.

"I'm sure they have enough firepower if it's a major threat," said Raphael. "Now shut up and eat, or leave the table. Your choice."

Francis stood up and left the group.

Raphael sighed while Donatello, Michelangelo, and Leonardo rolled their eyes.

"Some of these guys take their jobs so seriously I swear I want to kill myself," said Raphael.

"Devotion is admirable," replied Madonna. "But I know how you feel, or at least I knew before being 'imprisoned'."

"Novices are the ones who think that being one of us makes them some sort of big hero. Fortunately, most of them drop the attitude by the third or fourth year, which is when your realize law enforcement isn't as esteemed of a duty as some would think."

"Because of menial tasks like landing fees and what not?" Madonna grinned.

The three other guards laughed. Raphael returned the grin. "That's actually the most exciting part of it."

"Oh," said Madonna. Her face lit.

"So how about that Inquisition and your friends?" said Donatello.

"Ah, the Inquisition..."

"What's it about?" said Michelangelo.

"Protecting mankind from heresy-" She sipped from her glass. "And from Xenos."

"Xenos? You mean alien species?" said Leonardo.

"Mhm." She reached over for the biscuit bowl.

"And heresy?" said Michelangelo as he pushed the bowl toward her. "Like actions or ideas against the doctrine of a religious state?"

"Yes." She broke a biscuit and began to butter it.

"And I suppose Mr. Pissy-Pants is the head of said organization?" said Raphael.

"He's just a member, like the rest of my party."

"Ah, but he's in charge. Is it because of a higher rank-"

"No, he was elected."

"By whom?"

"The other five of us."

"No offense, but it seems for being members of an organization who's duty is to protect all of humanity from the most widespread of threats the five of you certainly lacked some sense in the leadership department."

"We hoped he would become better with more experience, but the opposite happened."

Raphael chuckled. "Leaders rarely become better once you put them in power. A mentor once told me, 'Leaders are like fruits of a tree. From the moment you pick one they start rotting. Let the ripe and good ones sit around for a while, and they'll eventually rot as well, some faster than others.' Certainly words to live by."

"Apparently we picked one that was already rotting, and now I have to live with the regret of picking someone as bloodthirsty as him. I suppose the guilt is what pushed me to turn myself in and be too trusting with all of you. Maybe I just needed a break, but that would be heresy against the Emperor of Mankind."

Raphael listened, his chin resting on his knuckles. "Then why not abandon this 'Emperor of Mankind' if your loyalty burdens your conscience so much?"

"I love my Emperor, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I want to take a break from this constant purging, this constant persecution. We killed our own people to save them, like some twisted bunch of suitors killing their lovers to preserve some virgin purity." She slumped and buried her face within her palms. "This is heresy, and I hate thinking about my duty this way. It feels awkward and stupid. I ought to shoot myself-"

"Shoot yourself? For thinking on your own? Is this your doctrine-induced guilt talking or the liquor?"

"I don't know. Can we change subject? I don't feel comfortable talking about this."

"If it'll make you happier, sure," said Raphael, pouring himself another glass that glistened in the warm glow of the room. The weather outside had grown worse, and he was painfully aware that his attempts at comforting his guest were falling flat before his face.