Undercity

by Catherine Asaro

  Yah, squalor, right. I wanted to lash out, but I wrestled down my anger. If I answered badly, I would only hurt my own people and alienate someone who genuinely wanted to help. We needed help, yes, but at what price?

  “Not squalor,” I said, instinctively lapsing into the undercity dialect. “Got better.”

  “Do you mean they don’t want squalor?” she asked. “Or that they don’t live in squalor?”

  “Don’t live in,” I said.

  “What would you call the conditions my soldiers saw?” she demanded. “People in caves with no plumbing, no jobs, no easy mesh access.”

  “Call it undercity.” I forced myself to speak her language. “It is a harsh life, yes, but also one of beauty and a freedom unlike anything in above-city.” For all I knew, our preference for that life had become a genetic disposition. I had tried for years to deny that part of myself, to live an above-city life. In many ways I had succeeded, to the extent that I might never again live in the aqueducts, but this much I knew: they were still part of me at a level so basic, I could never separate that from what made me Bhaajan. Yes, I had left when I was sixteen, but it had been my choice, not imposed on me from the outside.

  “If you try to change us to fit your way of life,” I said, “it will destroy what makes us unique. What we value.” I met her gaze. “And what we value has worth.”

  She seemed at a loss. “Then what help do you want?”

  That was the crucial question. And who did the undercity have to answer on their behalf? Inarticulate me. I was no expert in diplomacy, negotiation, conflict resolution, or creative solutions to impossible problems. I was just a retired soldier turned PI, rough around the edges, tending to stoicism. I could so easily fumble this opportunity, but as lacking as I might be, I was the only one here to negotiate an answer.

  I started with something easy. “For one, help make it possible for business proprietors in the undercity to get a license for sales on the Concourse.”

  Lavinda looked startled. “The undercity has business owners?”

  I gritted my teeth, then made myself relax and answer in a reasonable voice. “Yes. Certainly. And craftspeople. They could set up stalls or shops and participate legally in the Cries economy.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Legally?”

  Oh, great. I was one step away from telling her that a significant portion of the undercity economy consisted of theft, gambling, and illegally hacking the meshes. Smart move, Bhaaj.

  “As opposed to the cartels,” I said. Cries city already knew about them. Periodically the city authorities cracked down on the punkers, but usually they existed in an uneasy peace with the crime bosses, even partaking of their vices. That included Jak and his casino. He didn’t kill people, but gambling could also become an addiction, one that had led Braze to supply weapons to the cartels.

  “All the more reason to relocate people to Cries,” she said. “So they don’t turn to crime.”

  “My people don’t want to live in Cries.” I took a breath. “I’ve been thinking, a lot of ideas knocking around in my head. We talked before about the army. That’s one solution. I’m thinking through other possibilities.”

  Her look tuned thoughtful. “What about sports?”

  I blinked. “Sports?”

  “My soldiers say the young people down there seem remarkably fit.”

  “Kids like to form teams and exercise together.” That sounded so much more palatable than They run in gangs and learn to beat each other up.

  “One of my sergeants noticed as much,” Lavinda said. “She thinks some of those kids would kill on the ball court or track teams.”

  I almost choked on a groan. Yah, some punkers might literally commit murder if they were let loose in a sports contest with Cries athletes. Still, she had a point. If anything from Cries could draw interest among our youth, sports would do it. I’d have considered the idea if I hadn’t wanted to join the army. We fought for fun as well as survival. Team sports weren’t that different from gang battles, minus the bloodshed, and we were damn good at what we did. Hah! With some prep in tykado and track, our kids could wipe the floor with any above-city teams.

  “It’s could work.” I plunged ahead. “Our children need schooling, too, but what works in the above-city won’t work for them.”

  Incredibly, she didn’t tell me I was wrong and that our children just needed to shape up and adapt to the Cries schools and discipline, which was how everyone else had responded when I mentioned the problems with our education. Instead, she simply asked, “What would work?”

  What indeed? An Earther had once told me about something called unschooling, a form of home school education where students didn’t attend courses, real or virtual. Instead, they learned through their life experiences, including play, responsibilities, curiosity, interactions with kin and apprenticeships with mentors. That sounded similar to the undercity. Maybe I could find answers in their philosophies. We could invite mentors to visit the aqueducts, like Orin, who had let me help on his archeological digs. We’d have to ensure their safety. No one had bothered Orin because my gang protected him. How about the dust knights? They were already codifying my thoughts about learning. If I brought teachers to help, the knights would protect them. With the help of some adults, we might work out unschooling as part of the knight’s training.

  “Major?” Lavinda asked.

  “I have some ideas,” I said. “They’re a bit rough.”

  “We can talk more when you’ve had chance to work on them.” Lavinda spoke firmly. “But regardless, we need to test your people for Kyle traits as soon as possible.”

  “Why so fast?” Her pushing unsettled me.

  “Major, good gods, we’re talking about abilities rarer than one-tenth of one percent in the general human population. If that is different in the undercity, we need to know.”

  I didn’t want to talk about psions. For some reason, every part of me resisted. But I had to. Even if the three I had already met were the only ones in the undercity, they deserved to hear whatever ISC might offer. I had seen in the military how psions with unshielded minds suffered, how they withdrew from human contact. If nothing else, ISC could teach them to protect their minds so they didn’t crave phorine. Without those shields, it was no wonder they lived in isolation, safe in the darkness.

  Lavinda was watching me. “You told me before you would try to bring some people for testing. Are you saying differently now?”

  “No, I’ll keep my word.” I’d even taken the first steps. “They might come to the Concourse Rec Center. Make it the bargain we talked about. For a meal and medical checkup, and they let your people test them.”

  She nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “But before I do this,” I said, “you have to give me your word, on your honor as a Majda.”

  The moment she stiffened, I knew I had guessed right about the Majdas. They placed high value on their honor. I had no doubt they were brutally effective as politicians, military officers, and financial potentates, but they conducted their business according to their own code of integrity. She wouldn’t like me demanding her word, but if she gave it, she would keep that promise. I hoped I was right, because I needed to trust them.

  Lavinda spoke coldly. “My word on what?”

  I met her gaze steadily. “That no matter what you discover in your tests, you won’t force anyone who comes to the Center to stay. Offer them whatever you want, but if they say no, you let them go home.”

  For a moment she just looked at me. But finally she said, “Agreed.”

  “That’s not all.”

  “You enjoy risks, don’t you Major?”

  I plunged ahead. “I need your word that you won’t arrest anyone. No matter what you see, you won’t take action.” The riders, if any came, would be sporting stolen or mined tech-mech all over their bodies. Dust gangers would carry knives, dart throwers, maybe even stolen guns.

  Lavinda scowled at me. “And why, pray tell, would I arrest
any of these people?”

  She had to know I wasn’t going there. “I need your word. Or I can’t ask anyone to show up.”

  The colonel was scrutinizing me again. I kept my mental barriers in place. After a moment, she let out a reluctant breath. “Very well. You have my word that we won’t arrest, coerce, compel, or detain anyone you bring for testing. This one time, they have full sanctuary.”

  I hadn’t realized how much I had tensed until my shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.” I spoke carefully. “I can’t promise anyone will come. They have trust problems with the above-city.” To put it mildly. “But I’ll do my best.”

  “It’s a start.” Lavinda extended her arm and I extended mine. We each grasped the other’s elbows, shaking on our agreement. We had a bargain. It was a small thing, yes, a free meal for a few tests, but it was, as she said, a start.

  * * *

  I found Jak outside the entrance to the cave where I met with the dust knights. He stood leaning against a stone column, his arms crossed, watching me walk up the path.

  “Heya.” I grinned at him. “You come to join the knights?”

  Jak shook his head. He had an odd expression. Not angry, not exactly. He looked . . . fierce? No, that wasn’t right. He was hiding his mood, and unlike the inestimable Majdas, I was no empath.

  “Something wrong?” I looked past him, peering into the cave. I didn’t see anyone.

  “Got no people there,” he said.

  Odd. The whisper mill would have let the knights know I was on my way. Then again, was it a surprise they stayed away? The cartel battle and the part I insisted they take may have alienated them. Or they may have decided my code was too much trouble. Disappointment washed over me. I hadn’t planned to start the knights, but when they formed, it seemed like a good thing.

  “Ah, well.” I shrugged. “Got a lot to do anyway.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Come with.” He indicated the path with slagged stalagmites where we had fought Scorch.

  As I walked with Jak, I strained to listen for signs of people nearby. Dripping water somewhere muddled my reception. Max, I thought. Can you tell if anyone is around?

  Maybe a rider or two, he thought. No on else is close enough to detect heartbeats.

  “Why’d you come here?” I asked Jak. Nowadays he was far more interested in his casino than dust gangs.

  “Dunno. Seemed a good idea.”

  I’d seen this mood before with him, closed and hard to read. It happened when we first made love, the day he lost a close friend, and the day I left for the army, all times with emotions he didn’t want to talk about.

  An unwelcome thought hit me. “Dig. They found her body.”

  “No, not yet.” Jak took me toward another cave. I went with him to the entrance—and stopped, frozen in place.

  “The other cave was too small,” Jak said.

  People filled this one, a cavern twice as large as where we had trained before. More than twenty-five people had come, and others were probably hiding in the walls. Even as I formed that thought, a young woman dropped from the ceiling and stood in the back of the group, arms loose by her side, cyber implants showing in the circuitry that curled along her neck like a tattoo.

  The children from before had all returned, including their leaders, Pat Sandjan and Biker from the Oey gang, along with Runner and Rockson. Both the father and daughter from the deep-down were also here, with lenses protecting their eyes. A gang in their late teens stood at my right, two young women and two young men, reminding me so much of Dig, Jak, Gourd, and myself, except these kids had scar patterns on their arms, a gang tat worked into their skin. Four adults had gathered by the wall on my left, half hidden in the shadows, men and women in their twenties, wary and impassive, their faces toughened by their years.

  Everyone stood waiting to see what—if anything—I had to offer. This was pure undercity, no Cries influence. What would happen if we could harness the energy and self-imposed discipline of the gangers, the riders, and yes, even the punkers? I didn’t have an answer, but as I walked into the cavern, I felt a chill. Something was happening here, something important, if I didn’t screw it up.

  Jak stood at my back. I knew he wasn’t here to train. Whatever his reasons, his presence offered a show of support. He was taking a risk, because if my ideas fell apart, it would reflect badly on him. He was known throughout the undercity and a great deal of his influence came from his reputation, which had become so notorious that even the Majda police and their inimitable Chief Takkar knew about him. It meant a lot to me that he stayed.

  I hadn’t expected adults to show up. I couldn’t work with them like with the kids. Then how? As an army officer, I had been in charge of many soldiers their age. A big difference existed with this group, however. Nothing required them to be here. This much was clear: whatever I did next would either earn their loyalty or turn them away.

  I straightened up into military posture and paced in front of the group. Although I stopped in front of a line a children, I was looking over their heads at the four adults lounging by the wall. I couldn’t see them clearly in the dim light, but I didn’t think they were all gangers. For one, the rider who had dropped down from the ceiling had joined their group. I looked them over, and then I walked the other way, toward the gang of older teens. When I finished giving them the once-over, I went back to the center and considered the entire gathering.

  “So,” I said. “You think you’re dust knights.” I gave a snort. “Not that easy.”

  The younger children stood proud, because they knew they were already knights. I held back a smile at my seven-year-old knights. The teens I had asked to act as leaders were another story. They looked over the new people as if they were sizing up potential recruits, fourteen-year-olds appraising hardened gangers twice their age. Even so. They earned that right when they organized the knights to spread the warning about the cartels. The army trios had brought stragglers to safety, and I was grateful for their help, but it was the knights who had sent the population to ground. The only ones who missed the warning were the two Down-deepers I found during the battle, and they stood in front of me, hale and healthy instead of buried under tons of rubble.

  I raised my voice. “You want to be dust knights? We aren’t here to play. Knights train. Every day. They follow the Code. Got no time for the Code? You aren’t a knight.”

  No one spoke, but the older gangers weren’t lounging against the wall anymore. They looked pissed. At me.

  I called out to the group, drill sergeant style. “Ready to follow the Code?”

  The children who had already done this before shouted in unison. “Ready!”

  “Ready to train,” I said.

  “Ready to train,” they called back.

  “Ready to honor to Code.”

  They didn’t hesitate this time. “Ready to honor the Code.”

  “Dust knights protect!” I called. “Protect all!”

  “Dust Knights protect!” They made their Knights sound like a title. “Protect all!”

  “To live with honor!”

  “To live with honor!”

  “Never abuse that honor!”

  “Never abuse that honor!”

  I had ended the code at that point the last time, but now I added my own version of what the deep-down recruits had told me they heard.

  “No drugs!” I said. “No bliss, funk, hack, dot. Nothing!”

  Most of the younger children shouted, “No drugs!” but the older recruits just stared at me. The taller youth in the gang of older teens gave me an implacable gaze. Scars traced along his muscled biceps, a crisscross pattern of lines. All four of the gangs had those scars, but his were more extensive. He would be their leader. If he didn’t agree to the code, none of them would.

  I spoke to directly to him. “You want to be knights? Then swear to the Code. No Code, then you leave. Now.” It was a harsh demand for a population where euphori
cs were as common as food, but if they wanted to be part of this, they had to make that vow. I didn’t want drugs destroying what we were building.

  The response came not from the scarred gang, but from the four adults across the cave. One of them came forward, not the rider, but the other woman. People jumped out of her way, stumbling back, clearing a path. I stiffened as she walked into the light. She was huge, taller even than me, and all huge muscles. A scar slashed across her face, and her left arm had embedded tech-mech that looked like it connected to her neural system. Those implants could give her an augmented strength as much as my own, at least for that arm. But she wasn’t a rider. Her ragged clothes were scorched by fire. A laser shot couldn’t have hit her directly or she wouldn’t be here, but a backlash must have caught her. Damn. She was a punker from the battle.

  I faced her with a hard gaze. If I showed any sign of weakness, that was it. The knights would never follow me if I couldn’t stand up to the punkers. I didn’t know if she was Vakaar or Kajada, but it didn’t matter. Either she accepted the Code or she left. I didn’t care squat about how large, intimidating, or violent of a killer I faced. If she didn’t swear to the Code, she was out.

  She stood there, staring at me, her gaze impassive. I stared back. After she considered me for several moments, she spoke in a gravelly voice, her words carrying throughout the cave.

  “No drugs,” she said.

  Gods almighty. She had agreed. A sharp intake came from someone in the cave.

  I nodded to her and the punker nodded back, each of us barely moving our heads. With that, we agreed to a pact as binding as my handshake with Lavinda. The punker stepped back, rejoining her group, two dust gangers and the rider. Probably the four of them had joined together after losing members of their own circles.

  I spoke to the group as a whole. “No drugs!”

  This time the call came from everyone, ragged but firm. “No drugs!”

  “Dust Knights train! Every day!”

  “Dust Knights train!” They all yelled with extra gusto. “Every day!”

  Hah! They liked that one. Cries tykado teams, watch out. Training the knights would take some figuring out, given they were at such different levels and ages. I could set up groups, with the more advanced helping the less experienced. For the youngest, I didn’t want them fighting so much as learning a way of life that would give them a sense of purpose and confidence. Someday they might become martial arts wizards, but for now my intention was to provide a community they could depend on for guidance and support.