A War of Quiet Refusals
By Thomas X Veil
A group of teenage tinkerers turn sabotage into survival, dismantling surveillance systems with improvised tech and reckless courage. Their quiet rebellion masks grief, guilt, and the knowledge that in a dark fiction world, resistance always demands a price.
Genre: Dystopian Surveillance Thriller
Home > Thomas Veil > Roseistance
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In a reasonably busy side street, not far from the town centre, sat a large, run-of-the-mill antique shop. And under its very foundations, a hidden world thrived, invisible to the factions’ patrols. The workshop was under its basement, sharing its extractor fans, conveniently mixing the smells of vigour, solder, and explosive with the noxious fumes of furniture restoration: copious amounts of dye, polish, and varnish.
Their last base had been above a bakery, absolutely roasting (baking, technically). Too much time had been lost reminiscing over the bakery’s speciality: pea-flavoured cookies. Antiques were better for all.
*****
X
The four of us had decided to use code names when we first got together. The last four letters of the alphabet were the worst code names ever in the history of the universe, but they’d stuck.
And now there were three.
It had been much quieter all round without Y.
“He kept me up half the night again,” W muttered, leaning over his drawing board.
I was concentrating on not melting a tiny component with a soldering iron. “Again?”
Z looked up from the reams of paper spread across his desk. “I wonder if we’ll ever find out what happened.”
W rubbed his eyes. “God knows. Someone like him shouldn’t have been dumped in a ditch with his throat cut. He was unique.”
“That’s just what they’re telling us. He was a bit too big to just dump, really.”
Collectively, we’re the Gremlins. We see ourselves as spanners in the works, one of the brakes preventing the two factions from taking over before the Return are ready.
Could we do it without him?
Our workstations look as if they’ve been crammed in by brute force and sheer force of will, but it’d all been planned, eventually. A single overhead beam lights up the latest project. Prototypes loom in the shadows. An immense table for meetings and arguments sits beside Z’s bench.
Although we’re more or less immune to it now, visitors say the air still hums with urgency. We’d mentioned the idea of an apprentice stepping in, but they would never fill Y’s size 10s. Something had to happen. The three of us wouldn’t be able to manage on our own.
We were having one of our dreaded meetings.
Z tapped the table thoughtfully. “We can’t just hit their strengths head-on.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t start the martial arts thing again.”
“But it’s true…”
W and I sighed; we’d heard Z’s diatribe a thousand times. We chanted together as Z hovered between irritation and laughter.
“If they’re big, we use small. If they’re cruel, kindness. Rules, we use chaos. Peace, not violence.”
Then the three of us together said, “And that’s what gets results!” Y forgotten for a moment.
We sat at the table; five mission ideas scrawled on a scrap of paper.
Z’s voice dropped. “If we pull one of these off, they mightn’t know it was us. Not for years.”
“And if we play it right, they could even turn on each other.”
“Come on now. Focus,” I said, waving a precision screwdriver.
W squinted at the shabby list. “These all overlap. They all depend on infrastructure, don’t they? We’ve talked about this before.”
“Solid,” Z agreed. His grin widening. “But remember what happened last time. We’re too old for this, so we’re gonna need apprentices. Who can we trust? One mistake and someone dies”
We looked at each other. The stakes had shifted. This wasn’t a game. Not entirely.
*****
By the end of the week, we’d gathered what W described as “an unpredictable lineup of misfits, minor geniuses, and semi-legal animal handlers.”
There was Gretta, fifteen, pretty, tactically underestimated and sharper than a comedian’s comeback. Squeeze, a little Miss Motivator whose methods came with a health warning. Qi, who could calculate, collate, and tabulate data in his head but couldn’t remember what day it was. Monkey Boy, who could train dogs, pigeons and rats like a circus ringmaster. Easter, the utilities con man, and of course Donny Pie, the drone connoisseur.
We didn’t interview them for Y’s replacement; we set them a challenge.
—————————————————————————————————————–
The Brief (printed by me in 12-point Helvetica, laminated for no reason):
Your challenge: using any means necessary, analyse the major weaknesses of The Heritage Front and New Tomorrow concerning both public and faction infrastructure.
Provide data to back up your results, as long as you aren’t caught. If in doubt, stop, or tell one of the Gremlins immediately. Teamwork is essential. So is peer review.
Note: Bonus points for creativity. Unnecessary explosions will result in deductions. Necessary ones may be celebrated.
Good luck.
—————————————————————————————————————–
“We need to replace our colleague Y, who was captured and killed on a job recently.” I announced to the assembled group. “We need to decide who that will be.”
After that, no hand-holding. No speeches. Z just handed out the sheet and muttered, “Off you go,” and let them sort it out for themselves.
Back in the shadows, the three of us leaned over the table and watched as the youngsters met each other and grappled with the challenge.
I remembered Y. He would’ve hated this. Too messy, too many unknowns.
“This is a bit risky for them. I hope they know what they’re doing.” Z said as he was fiddling with his nails, a sure sign he was worried.
It was a problem we all had; letting go. We were all control freaks to some extent, and struggled when it came to trusting people, especially those who were so much younger than us. We thought they should still be at school.
Enjoying these stories? Try the book.
The day of the challenge arrived.
Gretta
Donny Pie had been in since 5:30! Fuck’s sake, what a goody two shoes.
He was completely absorbed in his laptop, a huge grin on his face.
“I love the smell of stealing secrets in the morning, guys! I’ve had the boys discreetly flying around outside both headquarters, and it’s looking goooood! Alright Gretta,” as he saw me for the first time.
OK, maybe he’s alright after all. Gets us a head start at least.
He straightened up, more serious now. “Monkey, excellent stuff for you on the Heritage Front ground floor; I’m better upstairs. First office on the left from the side door, desk against the back wall. A pad of forms. Perfect for your rats.”
“On it,” said Monkey Boy, already gathering his gear.
Me and Squeeze are in the field. We’re not built for hanging around, giving orders or being computery. We like action, so we made our way to New Tomorrow’s HQ.
We’d agreed the ‘Super Innocent Schooly’ look was best today, so we cycled there, men sneaking looks at our short skirts and pigtails. Fuckin’ wind was a bit strong, though. It always seems to be against you, no matter which way you’re going. I shivered. Not just from the cold.
Our plan was to chat up some guards and see what we could get away with.
As we arrived, something fell out of the sky.
“Did you see that?” said Squeeze quietly as she stuttered to a stop. “It was one of Donny Pie’s drones!”
I couldn’t believe it. I’d got it into my head that he was some kind of genius. What a pain in the arse if his stuff didn’t work.
“Come on, girl, we can be cover until he recalibrates,” I muttered.
So, we hitched up our skirts a bit and, hands tight on the handlebars, pushed our bikes up to the guard at the New Tomorrow HQ door.
“Officer, officer!” I pleaded. “We’re bursting for the toilet,” knees knocking together, “Can we use yours?”
His eyes flicked over us, sharp, sizing us up. Hand brushing his holster. “I’m not supposed to. You could be anybody,” he said.
“Us? Terrorists?” Squeeze’s eyes widened comically. “Pleeease. I’m going to pee myself right here if we can’t!”
The drone wobbled back into the air. He sighed. “Down there. Second door on the left. Be quick!”
We bolted down the corridor, hearts hammering. Ducked into the ladies, waited a beat, emerged and went into an office, empty! Perfect! I slipped the desk diary under my jumper; Squeeze grabbed an official stamp.
Back at the entrance, I turned on my most innocent smile. “Phew, thanks again, officer. Whatever can we do to repay you?”
He leaned closer; my pulse spiked. “You’re very … pretty. How about a kiss?”
“Quick then, no tongues,” I whispered, biting back a giggle and pouting my lips. Every second, a risk.
He kissed us fast and shy. I didn’t relax. Another guard could turn up.
Squeeze twirled her hair. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“William. My friends call me Billy.”
I winked over my shoulder. “See you later, Billy. Maybe you can show us your gun next time.”
I think Squeeze felt the same as me. We had ridden our luck. Keeping up a front pushed us along, but underneath, we really had to keep on our toes.
When we got back to the workshop, everyone was there.
Donny Pie laughed. “A couple of teenage temptresses in the making.”
“You jealous or something?” Squeeze taunted. “We got a diary and an official stamp, and a kiss. What did you get?”
“More than that.” Donny Pie said, puffing himself up. “Detailed shots of a faction bank statement and a full overview of that office. That deserves more than a kiss, don’t you think?”
“Dream on, Donny! Maybe don’t schedule crash landings during our flirting slot next time. It was hard work keeping that guard from seeing it. You could’ve blown it!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Squeeze, giving him a peck on the cheek. “What about you, Monkey Boy?”
Squeeze thought Monkey Boy was cute. He was so shy, he could hardly look at us.
“Ratdad got that form the drone spotted. It’s even filled in.” He blushed.
“Got into the Heritage Front HQ,” Easter interrupted, changing into his normal clothes. “Gave them my ‘someone’s complained about the smell of gas’ spiel and ended up with a schematic of the entire building.”
Qi stood up, coughed, “Oh, and everyone. We all need to be really careful. There’s a mention of a spy in that desk diary we got. It can’t be anyone in here, but…. Walls have ears.”
“Maybe the alpha will be able to help.” Squeeze laughed.
I’m lost, “The alpha? What’d I miss?”
“Yeah, the alphabet. W, X, and Z,” Squeeze laughed.
*****
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