Indigo Reign.
They open their eyes to see their white gold barcodes have been imprinted onto their forefingers.
Marriage had generally done away with rings since these barcodes are recognised in every civilised country that possesses a scanning machine.
It’s official, then.
Rennin says a very brief thank you to the priest, snatches the parchment document for nostalgic value, and the three of them almost run out of the Antioch Cradle to the car waiting out front.
An automated blast of confetti hits them on the way out, but they charge through, jumping in the car. Luckily it is archaic, and running on an old style combustion engine requiring petrol, since the main grid is still down. Caufmann revs it to life. As soon as the few people on the streets hear the engine, everyone is running towards them trying to get a ride in one of the only working vehicles.
Caufmann ignores them and speeds off. “I can’t stress how much work I have to do, Rennin, but I’m happy I could do this for you.”
“I appreciate it, sir, but where the hell did you get this old rocket?”
Caufmann glances sideways at him, “It’s not mine, it’s Van Gower’s.”
“Won’t he be pissed?”
Caufmann’s face breaks into a strange grin, “He won’t miss it.”
Unsure how to respond to that, Rennin turns to Carla. “Now we just have to get your folks to meet us at Gateway and then we can leave this hole.”
“My parents live in England, can’t you tell I still have a slight accent?”
Rennin hadn’t noticed at all, but he’s a quick thinker. “I’m a tits and arse guy.”
“You’re a pig.”
The jokes at least seem to ease the situation, helping to suppress their fear. Caufmann is speeding through the streets at a very unromantic pace towards the ever-growing queue at Gateway.
Caufmann slides to a halt near to the crowd, letting Rennin and Carla out and speeding off quickly before any of the people try to leap onto the vehicle. The crowd is several thousand strong easily, some with their families and others on their own carrying a few belongings.
There are two zones. One is for the general populace waiting to get out, and to the left, behind razor-wire topped unclimbable fences is the zone for relatives of the exemption groups, namely for Godyssey staff and the families of all military personnel.
They run across to the exemption queue. It’s only a few dozen people long. They are eyed with death stares from the general population, lining up for their only opportunity to escape. Rennin decides he’d best tell her now, “Carla—”
“Shit, Rennin, there’s a transport just there, we’re actually going to get out of here,” she says excitedly, trying to see around the crowd. A group of people at the front of the queue are allowed on after passing a decontamination scan, and the line moves forward considerably.
“Carla, listen.”
“What is it?” she asks up at him with her intense blue eyes.
“I’m afraid—” he starts, cut off by a blaring alarm. Someone has just broken the lines and is running for a transport. Rennin grits his teeth a split second before the runner is shot in the back.
That instantly kills Carla’s good mood. “Oh my god!”
The line moves forwards again. “Carla!” He grips her arm tightly.
“Ow!” She snatches away from him, “What’s the matter with you?”
“I have some bad news.” The line moves forwards and people grouping up behind them shove them forwards muttering in barely suppressed panic.
Carla swears at the people pushing, while righting herself to refocus on Rennin. “What is it?”
“I’m not coming,” he says with a minute wince.
Her eyes turn stone cold, “What?”
“I made a bit of a deal and I lied a little.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks so quickly it sounded like one long word. “You said that Godyssey personnel and their families can get out.”
“They can but not security’s families, we’re deemed non-essential, hence expendable due to a technicality of being a sub agency of Godyssey and not part of the main company body.”
“So what are we even doing here? What the hell, Rennin?”
Rennin’s face betrays his disappointment in himself and he sheepishly pulls his dog tags out of his coat pocket and puts them around his neck. “You can leave,” he holds up his left hand with the barcode imprint on the forefinger. “I’m now military and you’re my wife. You’ll be safe.”
She looks at the barcode, then his dog tags, “Oh no, Rennin, no,” she says as her eyes well up, “You’ll be killed here!”
“It was the only way,” he says softly, not meeting her gaze. “I’ll meet you afterwards.”
“You told me, yourself, that this was a doomed mission the military had in mind. You saved my life, you’ve been shot, haven’t you done enough?”
Rennin puts a hand on her face trying his best to savour how her skin feels while shushing her. “Don’t mention that here or I’ll be executed long before the mutants rip me apart.” It was meant to be a joke but it starts her weeping, tears streaming down her face. She grabs at his arms, unwilling to allow this to happen.
The line moves forwards again. Carla pushes away from him, wiping her face with a determined expression is on her face. “Then I’m not going either.”
Rennin shakes his head and meets her eyes with his own conviction. “I did this so you could get out and be safe, you’re getting on that ship.”
“I’m not leaving you here. You’re a fucking idiot, but you’re my fucking idiot,” she says as the next movement of the queue draws them second to the front.
He touches her face again and smiles. “I love you,” and lands a left hook across her jaw. Her head snaps back, knocking her out cold.
Rennin’s next in line so he picks his bride up, as a groom is supposed to upon crossing their first threshold. The image in his mind of the current situation is nothing short of ludicrous. He steps up to the cluster of soldiers standing guard.
“Name, pal?” asks one, a Sergeant by his shoulder detail.
“Farrow, Rennin. This is my wife Carla Sp-Farrow,” he corrects himself. “I’m serving with the Horizon Military, but she’s here to leave.”
The Gateway checkpoint soldier types Rennin’s name into his handheld tool then scans his hand. “Alright, you check out fine,” he says then his attention is drawn to Carla. “She sick?” he asks, obviously suspicious of her being unconscious.
“No, she was just being difficult, but she’s leaving.”
“Not until she passes a scan,” he says injecting her with some kind of serum. Rennin inwardly shudders at the sight of the needle. The soldier looks at a small gauge in his hand that lights up green. “Okay, she’s fine,” he says, nodding to one of the soldiers. He takes her from Rennin’s arms and carries her onto the transport.
Rennin steps to the side, finding that his legs are shaking. He feels horrible. His stomach is in knots. He didn’t want to hit her. He hit her too hard, he knew, but he was frightened and wanted to be sure he knocked her out. He wouldn’t have been able to strike her twice. That’s something he knows he just couldn’t do.
Yeah, you’re a real gentleman, fuckhead.
He pushes his way back through the bustling queue, and back onto the street where he stops and takes account of his surroundings. The whine of engines draws his attention as the ship Carla is on lifts into the sky. Another empty one sets down straight afterwards to begin loading the next lot.