“Charming fellow, usually,” said Ajit. “Likes to bend your ear about how anything that goes wrong can be traced back to a woman.”
“If you want him out of your way, I’ll kill him for some rat meat.”
Everyone got quiet again.
“No, no, no.” Ajit held up his hands. “Please, no violence. It’s dangerous enough for us down here without going after each other.”
She let the fireball go out. “I need to get to West City. I can’t stay here.”
Ajit tapped his lips. “We can probably sneak you into a terminal.”
“I can’t use a shuttle.” Kate edged around him to the makeshift table and picked up a hunk of raw rat, which sizzled on her palm. “I’ve got a slight issue with touching things.”
The smell of cooked meat drew Cee out of hiding, awestruck.
“Mind if I eat this?” Kate hot-potatoed it from hand to hand to keep it from charring black.
“Uhh…” Ajit waved, speechless.
“Thanks.” Kate sat on the bench, devouring the rat to the bone. “I haven’t had rat in years.”
When she looked up, Cee hovered inches away.
“How did you do that?”
While munching, Kate gave them the short version of her curse.
“We could get something to knock you out and hide you on the shuttle,” said Ajit.
“Only if you let me kill Zeb first. I don’t feel like being unconscious around him.” Kate licked grease from her fingers. “Would you mind if I swiped another? I’m starving.”
Cee blinked. “Ya jes’ ate whole rat. I k’eet half a one, barely.”
“Fast metabolism.” Kate glanced at Ajit. “I’ll cook the lot for everyone in trade.”
“She’s gonna touch it?” asked a man somewhere in the back.
Kate blinked. “You’re down in the plates, covered in dirt, eating rats, and you’re worried about what’s on my hand?”
Ajit chuckled, holding his fingers over her arm. “I don’t think germs would survive on her. Well, there is another option.” He followed her to the table. “Roadway Corporation runs transport caravans out to Scattered Lands city states. You could sign on with them, ride on the top of an armored truck. That could get you to the river at least, but you’d have to walk across the Badlands.”
Cee skinned and cleaned another rat.
Kate tossed the meat from hand to hand, cooking it. “They take on passengers?”
“No, they don’t. You’d have to sign up as a mercenary looking for guard duty.” Ajit handed the cooked meat to the first off-gridder in the line that formed.
A sienna-skinned woman in her mid-forties emerged from the cloth room where Cee hid, carrying a metal disc.
She approached, waving it. “Cocinar en esta, es más higiénico.”
Cee looked up from her work on the next rat. “My mama say you cook on that.”
Kate hefted the plate. “This is too heavy for me to hold up.” She glanced around and took a seat on a nearby piece of junk, resting the disc on her lap while holding the sides.
Ajit hovered nearby as Cee cooked, astounded by the sight of a surface hot enough that bits of meat charred to ash where they stuck.
Kate stared, mesmerized by the sizzling rat. Way to go, Kate. You’re a goddamn stove now. I gotta get out of here. She snagged another piece, earning no objection from anyone. “So, Ajit… Tell me more about this Roadway thing.”
he code Ajit gave her worked. Kate dropped the metal rod she had used to poke the buttons, cringing from a spray of rubber-scented air as the hatch plate opened. She climbed, pulling herself out into a modest breeze gusting down the alley.
“Ow, shit,” rasped Ajit from below. “The ladder is hot.”
She squatted near the hole. “Sorry. Thanks for everything.”
“I hope you find what you are looking for.”
Between the morning sun and the dark depth, she couldn’t see him, but waved anyway. The hatch beeped and closed on actuated struts. She looked down, reading the diagnostic message on the hatch plate’s screen for a moment before closing her eyes and crossing her arms.
“Yeah, me too.”
She changed her outfit to green-on-brown military pants, a grey tank top, and a loose camouflage shirt. With her gaze on the ground, she trudged out of the alley and went left. This early in the morning, the sparse pedestrian traffic left her ample room to avoid passing too close to anyone and arousing suspicion. Fear, uncertainty, and doubt warred for prominence in her heart. Ajit had been willing to take credits to play tour guide, ten thousand and he’d spent the past several days leading her through The Beneath to the western edge of the city.
A CyberBurger proved too strong a distraction. She ordered four double-orbitals, requesting a metal tray. This one had no play area, so she wound up standing by the window while she ate. Two drunken idiots bet each other a hundred credits over whether or not the ‘skinny chick’ could finish everything she ordered.
Kate ignored the resultant fistfight as she dropped the empty tray on top of the de-assembler by the door on her way out. Having no police show up caused as much fear as it did hope, urging her to move at a jog to the end of the block. The cross street was a main east-west artery that traversed the middle portion of the city, six lanes in either direction. From there, the open green of the Scattered Lands stretched between a handful of tall buildings near the edge of the elevated construction. Her destination waited at the bottom of a ramp connecting the city to the ground seventy-five meters down, past a massive open lot filled with cargo transports.
She trudged along, the only pedestrian on a walkway so narrow it had to be an afterthought. A lump formed in her throat as a car shot past, triggering a daydream about what it would be like to ride in a vehicle or feel the touch of real clothing. I don’t care what I have to do to make that happen. Halfway down the ramp, she stopped. This is silly. I should let them drug me and put me in the trunk of a hovercar. Another vehicle rumbled by, this time a box van. Electric motors in the hubs whined as the driver leaned on the brakes. Sparks flickered within the wheels, visible in the gap between the moving rubber and stationary center.
Hovercars don’t fly over the Badlands. They can’t go as high as shuttles. Walking again, she gazed at the clouds, pondering rumors she’d heard about shuttles always going above the clouds. Why do they have to fly so high?
Flashing blue lights from behind made her freeze. She started to glance over her shoulder, but leapt against the chain link fence, cringing away from a hail of wind and dust as a huge blue van rumbled by. She raised a hand, squinting at police insignia emblazoned with a large, white 1 on the rear doors. Her weight shifted off the fence onto her feet as the transport reached the bottom and pulled into the gate at the Roadway Compound.
Great. Those must be my future co-workers.
For the remainder of her journey down the ramp, no other cars went by. Kate walked with the solitude of the whistling breeze in her face until the ground leveled off. A lone guardhouse stood to the right of a person-sized gate. An obvious doll made to look like a generic security guard in blue looked at her.
“Please state your business, Ma’am.”
“Miss.” Kate grumbled to herself about not being old. “I’m only twenty-five, dammit. Guess they skimped on your personality module, huh?”
“Please state your business, Miss.”
Don’t get angry… “I’m interested in signing up as a guard for a Roadway run heading for the St. Louis Protectorate.
Its irises glowed amethyst for a few seconds and dimmed. “Records located. Good morning, Emily Ramirez. No security flags raised. Please pass along our respects to your uncle.”
She pursed her lips, a knowing smile, as the gate opened. “Thanks. I’ll let him know.”
“Follow the white line.” The doll gestured at the wall, as if pointing at the ground outside.
The long ribbon of worn paint led her to the face of a huge warehouse-style building. She followed
it around the side past twelve loading docks, ten enclosed in high-security fencing and razor wire. Whistles and howls came from six men on top of one of the long trailers. Bodies massed at the front into a tangle of orange jumpsuits and dingy white armor vests as they tried to get a better look at her. One man held up a boxy assault rifle, tethered to the truck by a metal cable, and howled.
Kate paid more attention to the texture of the concrete underfoot than she did the sex-starved convicts. After being in the city for so many years and walking on metal, she came close to enjoying it. The stripe led her to a pair of automatic doors and a small lobby decorated in military chic. A Vendomat stocked various brands of synthbeer while another sold ammunition. The reception area extended from the far right corner, with a hallway going around it to the left, deeper into the building.
Behind a shimmering field of faint blue energy, a young woman stared with vacant eyes at a holo-terminal screen. The sight of another person with rich light-brown skin and long, black hair caused Kate to swallow an upwelling of jealousy. A reminder of how different from everyone else she was. At least my nose isn’t that big.
Her patience gave her all of six seconds before she knocked on the energy field. Cyan ripples spread out from where her knuckles touched. “Hey… are you alive?”
“Just a sec,” said the girl, shifting and squinting.
Kate leaned to the side. “Are you playing a goddamned game?”
The teen didn’t look at her. “Hang on, I’m the healer. I gotta focus or people die.”
“You’re raiding at work?” Kate rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“Well… yeah,” she said. “What kind of idiot volunteers for this? I don’t work with the cons. You’re the first person I’ve seen in six months.” Emotion appeared at last as she smashed a holographic button several times. “Crap, stop distracting me. I almost lost someone.”
You’re about to lose a whole lot more. Think your priest spells will cure burns? Kate covered her face in both hands, turning away and muttering. Gotta do this. Archon can fix me. Stay calm. Kate repeated the chant in her mind for several minutes until the sound of triumphant music behind her caused her to look.
“Okay.” The girl looked up. “Sorry about that, what are you selling? Oh wait, you don’t look like a sales weasel. Are you one of those people giving out religious crap? Selling cookies?”
The plastic plant on the shelf in front of the energy field melted into a puddle. The clerk blinked at it. Kate reined in her temper before visible flames appeared.
“No. I want to sign on as a guard for a run to St. Louis.”
“You?” The girl cocked an eyebrow. “Uhh, no offense, but you don’t really look like the type.”
“Is there someone I can talk to about getting on a truck headed west?”
“If you’re just looking to score with some hot convict, you should know the drivers have cameras. They see something going on an’ they’ll stun the crap outta both of you.”
Kate slammed her eyes closed as the rage whirled around her mind. She focused on hologram-Archon promising her a cure. Calm. Calm. Calm. When she opened her eyes, she found the clerk under a table behind her desk, screaming. The outer lobby looked fine, save for a black smear on the tiles around her feet.
“I’m not looking for convict sex. Before you say something even more idiotic that pushes me beyond the limit of my ability to swallow my temper, please point me to someone who can do something more than play video games.”
“W-what was that fire?” The young woman crawled out, sheepishly taking her seat. “Was that a hologram?”
“Did you feel heat?”
The girl’s eyes widened. She sat still for a moment, jumping to hit a button on the desk as if startled. Kate tilted her head, slow tapping her right foot while waiting for a reply. An Asian man in a grey Roadway Corporation polo shirt and black BDU pants appeared through a doorway at the end of the hall and wandered over.
“I’m Brian. Can I help you?”
Kate covered her breasts with one arm, grabbing her right shoulder, and put her other hand over her crotch, an unconscious reaction to his stare. “I am looking to ride as a guard out to St. Louis.”
Brian looked her up and down, rubbing his chin. “Well, no offense, but you look more like a runway model than a mercenary. However, Roadway Corp isn’t a company that discriminates against anyone based on appearance. I do have to ask about qualifications though. Come on.”
She followed him a short distance into the corridor, hesitating at the door to his office.
“It’s okay. You can come in.”
“Look, Brian. Before this goes any further, I need to know if you can keep certain information confidential.”
“Your record is clean, right?” He shot her a nervous glance.
“Yeah.” As far as I know. “There’s a complication. Your employer has an arrangement with my employer and it would be better for everyone involved if the usual channels were bypassed. My uncle’s a nervous guy.”
“So?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“My uncle.” She stared at him.
Brian opened and closed his mouth, humming. “Mmm, yes. I see your point. Very well then, what is it you need to tell me?”
“I need to go west. I can’t touch most things without destroying them.” She pinched a leaf off the plastic plant by his door. “I wasn’t sure if the non-convict guards have to wear those vests, but it would be a horrible idea for me to touch one.”
“Only the prisoners wear the fragmentation devices, though we can provide DuraFib armor vests without the explosives if you like.”
The idea of wearing something real lifted her eyebrow. “What’s the heat tolerance of that stuff?”
“It’s designed to melt on purpose to trap projectiles in a gooey tangle of indirium threads.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Never mind then. All I really want is a ride west. I’ll do the guard thing, but I can’t use a rifle either.”
“The housing is metal; you should be able to carry it around for appearances. Besides, they’re mounted to the truck. You can leave it in the holder.”
“You people have a lot of faith in the convicts to give them artillery like that.”
Brian flipped through a few screens on his terminal. “The driver has a master arm, and the guns don’t work if they’re oriented toward the transport.” He looked up. “You acknowledge that Roadway Corporation is in no way responsible for injury or death resulting from your contract employment as a caravan security agent. Furthermore, you indemnify Roadway Corporation against liability for damaged, lost, or stolen property that may or may not occur during the course of your employment.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Additionally, you hold that Roadway Corporation is not responsible for the conduct of rehabilitative security agents, up to and including assault of a physical or sexual nature.” Brian looked up. “Of course, if someone tries anything, feel free to kill them.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“Furthermore, if you plan to bring personal weapons in addition to the RCR-52C rifle provided by Roadway Corporation for your convenience, discharge of said personal firearms is strictly forbidden during the course of your employment without authorization from the driver.”
“Does your personal weapons policy include fireballs? Or just firearms?”
“Fireballs?” Brian blinked. “Please don’t tell me you’re nuts and think you’re in an MMO.”
Kate made a fist-sized sphere of blue fire. “I guess if you’re seeing this, you’re crazy too.”
“Holy shit!” He jumped out of his chair.
“Oh, relax.” She closed her hand, crushing the orb into a wisp of smoke. “I promise to behave.”
Kate made her way down a narrow corridor with a bare concrete floor and armored walls. The upper half of the left wall had a transparent barrier thick enough to seem bullet resistant. She crept forward, watching Division 1 police officers corral men in
orange jumpsuits into different holding cells. The convicts looked at her; she couldn’t hear them through the barrier, but they all gawked after someone pointed her out. Some winked, some seemed blasé, and a few made rude gestures.
She felt sick for a moment as she thought back to her break in at Darius Reed’s apartment. If the eighteen police officers on the other side of the wall knew who she was, she’d be over there with the rest of the caged animals. Her freedom felt as ephemeral as her clothing.
The hallway ended in a cavernous space three stories high. Automated cargo loaders whirred about, carrying boxes like mice running a maze with invisible walls. Brian had made a change to the schedule, moving up a run to St. Louis to happen today rather than in two. He figured the cons wouldn’t know better or care, since it meant more time out of jail. His attempt at reassuring her they were all considered low-risk offenders on good behavior was pointless. She hoped someone tried something. After that idiot at the front desk, she wanted to make someone scream.
Kate found Dock 8 right where Brian said it would be, between seven and nine. She rolled her eyes at his lame joke. A passing lift truck came within three inches of flattening her toes. Once the initial shock wore off, she jumped back with a howl and pressed herself into a support column.
“How the hell did something so big sneak up on me?”
She glared at the lift as it drove into the open trailer, dropped a palette of boxes, and reversed back out. Watching it handle the cargo as if it was all Styrofoam scared the breath from her chest.
“Hey!” shouted a big man who looked like a correctional officer. He came trotting over. “What the hell are you doing?”
Kate looked up at him. “I’m signed on for this run.”
“They forget to tell you about the lines?” He pointed at the floor. “Don’t walk in any of the red areas.”
She looked down. The tips of her ‘boots’ stopped an inch away from a patch of ground outlined and filled with red painted diagonal lines. Red areas took up the majority of the floor. “Uhh, lines?”
“The red areas cover where automatic lifts operate. Yellow zones are safe walkways.”
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