The Core

by Jack Robuck

  Matthew peered over the hood of the car. From the rubble across the intersection, out of windows and up from behind cover, dark faces like Jimmy's appeared, each with a white smear on their foreheads. Matthew whispered, “Wait, are you a Salt...Person?”

  Jimmy looked back at him, his gun still upside down in the air. “Not all rectangles are squares, you little racist. Stay the fuck down.”

  One of the Salt People came forward. He was darker than Jimmy, and the white splotch on his forehead stood out against the dusty grey and tan layers he wore; a type of urban desert camouflage.

  He opened his arms, waiting for Jimmy to approach. “Brother!”

  Jimmy strode out into the intersection, his boots crunching on the sand strewn asphalt.

  The man spoke again as Jimmy came closer. “Brother. Friendly. But you're not our brother, are you?”

  Jimmy stopped a dozen paces from the man. Matthew peered at his back from around the corner of the car.

  The man went on. “You put sand on your head? You mock us? And yes, we saw your friends over there, white as the gift of the gods.”

  Matthew ducked back down.

  Rectangles, my ass. Who's racist now?

  When he looked out again, Jimmy had his left hand out, palm open. “I am your brother, although I walk today with these good people. And as for the sand, I have long been deprived of the bounties of the divine. I walk a lonely path to fight our mutual enemies.” Jimmy beckoned with his rifle at the horizon down the right hand street where, tall, and blue with distance, a ribbed and shining tower stood over the city.

  The man laughed. He raised the shotgun he held, and pointed it right at Jimmy. “The Fleet is not my enemy.” He looked back at some of his companions. “The Fleet is our biggest customer!” Some grim smiles and laughter from the heavily armed men.

  The man backed away a few steps toward the rubble he had been hiding behind. “So I think you must give us a better explanation of what you're doing in our city, or...”

  He raised the shotgun and all of his men pointed their weapons at Jimmy, standing out in the open. Matthew could see in a third floor window straight ahead the sniper Sean had noticed. He felt the cold hollow of its focus. The sun glinted off the scope lens right into his eyes.

  Out of the acid silence, a sound: a scraping thud, and another, and another, from the left hand street of the intersection. The voices of the Salt People went up in a chatter; guns clattered and clicked, every hammer and slide pulled back. Their leader raised his shotgun again, and Jimmy held out his open hand. “Woah, woah, woah!”

  Matthew stood up. Immediately rifles pointed in his direction, and he put both hands on his rifle, but didn't raise it.

  From the left, behind where the big yellow dumpster blocked his view, the scraping thuds continued, louder, and the Salt People and Jimmy stared motionless in its direction.

  Slipping around the car's fender, Matthew walked into the intersection. Coming down the center of the street was a brown and purple iguana. Its steps were slow and weak, it scraped its clawed foot forward across the asphalt, lifting its knee at the last possible moment, and letting its foot hit the ground with a weighty thud. It eased forward one step at a time, until it was right between the Salt People and Jimmy, giving each of them a bulbous, bubbly eye, red and dry. It slowly opened its beak-like mouth, and its tongue crept out awkwardly. It looked thick, and parched.

  With a final step, the Iguana collapsed in the center of the intersection, and the lumpish bundle on its back slumped to eye height. The face of its passenger lolled, unconscious over to Matthew's side of the great speckled neck. He raised a hand to cover his brow from the sun. “Ella?”

  The other rebels stood up from cover, and Sean rushed forward toward the Iguana, calling, “Ella!”

  The Salt People raised their guns again, pointing them at Sean, at Ella, and at the huge animal in the street. Jimmy sprinted around the head of the Iguana, calling out to the Salt People's leader. “Wait! Be cool!”

  The man held up a hand to his companions, shouting them back into cover.

  Sean and Matthew rushed forward and pulled Ella down from her mount.

  The leader of the Salt People kept his weapon pointed at Jimmy. “What is this, brother? You bring this filthy animal into our city?”

  Jimmy shook his head wildly. “She's not with us. Matthew?”

  Sean held Ella in his arms, and Matthew walked over to Jimmy. He looked the leader of the Salt People in the eye. “She's not with us, sir, and we mean you no harm. But we know her, she is from Luna, and she needs help.”

  The man studied Matthew's face. “You are not one of these planetsiders. You fight the Fleet?”

  Matthew held his gaze for a long moment, thinking of what to say. He wasn't sure he even knew the truth. Jimmy glared at him, and Matthew spoke up. “Yes. I was with a colony ship that arrived here. But the Fleet betrayed me.”

  After a moment, the man lowered his gun. “The Fleet betrays us all. And the next day they come calling to market. But be warned, you walk today in the gated city of the chosen people. Your actions will be judged by our laws.” He met eyes with Jimmy. “If you are our brother, then you will know them.”

  Jimmy nodded, and the man went on. “You must be seeking the rebel soldiers. The one they call 'Anderson'. We know them well. They're good customers too.” The Salt People snickered, and he held up a hand. “You'll find them in the south quarter. You may continue through this quarter unmolested, but that ends when the sun goes down. If the gods ever deem it time for this fucking sun to go down!” he spat.

  Jimmy nodded, and touched his forehead.

  The man pointed to the right hand road. “Continue on to the train line. It still runs from here to the south quarter. Look for the tall abandoned hospital there.

  Jimmy thanked the man, and they eased through the intersection and down the right hand road, keeping the Salt People in the corner of their eye. Sean carried Ella like a baby, and Matthew shouldered her gear. Looking back, he could see the man nudging the Iguana with his boot.

  Matthew picked up the pace, catching up to Jimmy. He matched stride with him. “That guy didn't seem to like the sun.”

  Jimmy nodded. “The Salt People live all over the planet, but here in Gate City, the sun used to rise and set seven or eight times a day. And the Salt People prayed to their gods at every one. All over the world, the Salt People are used to praying to sunrises and sunsets that can only be seen in Gate City, but here they saw them. They're still getting used to standard orbit again, and they're pissed off. They'd like nothing more than control of the Core. We gotta be careful.”

  They trekked on through the city, the sun sailing up over the tops of the buildings, the air quickly growing warmer.

  Matthew said, “So what are we gonna tell them? The rebels.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “I dunno.”

  Matthew walked on, the combined weight of Ella's pack and his own cramping his shoulder. “Well, you said 'worldwide communications tower'.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, what about we tell them the truth? We killed the Admiral, and we crashed the Fleet. But not everybody knows that, right? We have to send out a message, a broadcast, and let everybody know that now is the time. Everybody has to rise up and wipe out the rest of the Fleet.”

  Jimmy gave him an approving smirk. “That's a pretty good plan, kid. 'Cause the truth is, even if we do have the Core, there's a lot more Fleet hardware and Troopers on the surface than there was yesterday. Hell, we need to send out that broadcast regardless.”

  Chapter 15

  The back of her eyelids felt heavy and dry. She murmured thanks that they had stopped glowing red.

  Is it finally night?

  A chirping screech, again, with a pause, and again.

  The Iguana sounds sick. But we’re moving.

  The gentle swaying side to side rolled her head and prompted her to open her eyes. She looked up at Sean sitting on a green vinyl seat across
from her. The round-cornered window behind him was filled with purple sunset cloud streaks and the open sky. He looked down at her and put his hand on her forehead. He reached out of sight, his hand coming back with a water bottle. He opened it and touched it to her lips. She struggled to get under it, to tilt it further back, to suck all of the water down, but he pulled away and said, “Not so much so fast.”

  Her tongue still felt dry as rice paper as she poked it from her mouth to lick the last drops from her lips. She looked again at Sean, who sat looking sideways, ahead, toward the front of the train. She could barely lift her head to see shadowy shapes sitting, moving about down the length of the car. She lay her head back again on the seat and closed her eyes.

  She tried to whisper, “Where are we?”

  Sean said, “Shh.”

  The train quietly rocked her back into an exhausted stupor.

  A sudden blast! Shock, fear, pain in her ears. Someone shouting, “Move!”

  She started up, grabbing, glass shattering, a thousand tiny diamonds, a galaxy of stars slashed her face, and someone shouting, “They sold us out!”

  She wiped blood off her cheek. She could barely stand. Sean grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her down between two seats.

  The rumble of some kind of ship, its hellish white searchlights, as it slid laterally, matching the elevated train's race through the landscape, firing through train car windows. The dust storm raised by its powerful vertical thrusters blasting into the ground was choking, filling the train. From between the seats, she crawled on her hands and knees to the center aisle, the ribbed floor section there scattered with glass chunks, razor shards and some almost sand.

  She looked right. She could see someone ahead, crouching below a control desk, firing from cover. Matthew Allen stood at the juncture between two cars. He spotted her, raised his rifle, pointed it straight at her, and fired.

  Blam! The bullet ripped past her, down through the open doors of the second and third car, and smashed into the door jamb of the last car where a group of Fleet Troopers were jumping in from the open hatch of another ship.

  Matthew pointed and shouted to a dark-skinned man. “Can you believe that pilot? Full throttle backwards!” He raised his gun and fired again.

  A blur of purple and black—a woman—raced by Ella firing two pistols and dove into the second car. She rolled and came up firing.

  The ship flying beside the train started firing again, and Ella screamed, covering her ears and face. More glass exploded and under the seats she could see other faces, bodies, all down against the cool, soothing tile. The guns on the ship gave off a high-pitched whine and the little explosions blurred together. All the windows were gone, and bullets thudded into the train car walls and actually dropped around her onto the floor.

  She peeked out around the seat again, down the aisle. The train car was on fire, the cotton-stuffed seats flaming up near the last car, catching from one to the next. The blue and purple sky faded on, silhouetting the windows and the black ship that kept unloading more and more Troopers.

  Matthew appeared, crouching behind the seat across from her, and he tilted his head at her. “You alright?”

  Ella brushed debris from her face. Her fingers came away with more blood. “How did I get here?”

  Matthew reached into his pocket and handed her a rag across the aisle. He grimaced. “I was thinking the same thing.” He poked his head above the seat, and scanned with his rifle before letting off three quick rounds. He stood there for a moment, staring wide eyed, out of cover, before a bullet bounced off the aluminum wall next to his head. He crouched back down across from her.

  “No way. No fucking way!”

  Ella leaned out. Far down the zigzagging train cars, she could see a bald-headed man in a tight t-shirt limping down the aisles, pistol in hand. As he walked by the flaming seats, he put up an arm to the fire. She could see that his face was scarred, burned.

  Matthew fired over the seats without looking, then stood up long enough to meet eyes with the dark-skinned man. He screamed out, “It’s Trague!”

  Ella looked down the aisle again. The bald man was closer, and he was laughing. He raised his pistol, and Ella screamed, “Matthew!”

  Matthew threw himself down between the seats as bullets ripped through the air overhead.

  he could hear the bald man, Trague, laughing. The second ship pulled back, away from the windows, and slid up to the front of the train. There was a dull boom, loud and deep, and the front side door of the car was blasted away. The ship responsible rolled left as the train advanced, and began positioning its big rear door near the hole in the car.

  The incredible sound of the battle didn't let up, and she could feel the warmth of the coming fire despite the blast of air streaming through the windows and down the aisle over her. Troopers dropped in the distance, but they were advancing. The purple-haired woman was back. They were losing ground. Sean came for her, grabbed her elbow, and pulled her toward the front of the train, firing over her shoulder. She fell onto a pile of packs and satchels in an open space in the center of the train car between two adjacent doorways.

  From behind the front seats where the blast had occurred, an older man stood up, pulling a lanky younger man to his feet, and handed him a rifle.

  Ella screamed, “Stephen?”

  Stephen met eyes with her, then put a hand to his mouth, and yelled, “Jimmy, they're coming in this way!”

  The dark skinned man stood up, looked down the aisle, then back to where Stephen and the older man stooped behind the seats. He yelled back, “Yeah, I don't think that works for us.”

  He pulled something out of the bottom of his gun, and put in a new piece, and leapt into the center aisle firing, backing down the car toward Stephen. He ducked behind the seats with them. Matthew and the rest were still shooting. Ella slid a bag out of the way, and crouched on all fours in the small foyer between the doors.

  She saw Jimmy stand up just as the ship at the front of the car started lowering its door. He threw something into the narrow opening, and grabbed Stephen and threw him to the ground. The old man had already ducked, and a second later a high angled blast of flame and smoke shot out of the opening door. All three of them jumped to their feet and began firing into the blackness as the door continued to drop.

  Jimmy turned back, fired down the aisle toward Trague, and yelled out, “Everybody up here, now!”

  Sean was there, pulling her up, but she pushed him away. Matthew ran over to them and they all grabbed packs. She felt shaky on her feet, and the breakneck pace of the train swaying along its tracks threw her into the seat across the aisle, but she soon righted herself. She saw the old man at the front stand up with a long gun, lay it on a seat top and take careful aim down past her head. She flinched instinctively as the air around her puffed and the extra loud weapon's blast made her ears ring.

  They ran for the front of the car, throwing themselves down behind the first seats. Sean and Matthew jumped the terrifying gap over to the ship. She saw Sean pick a Trooper up by his neck and throw him out into the air. Matthew rushed forward into the darkness at the front of the ship. After a moment, it veered away. Sean grabbed onto the edge of the door and almost fell out. He dropped his gun into space, and she saw it blur away behind the train. He grabbed on with both hands and made a little sick look, but in a moment, the ship was back next to the train car, sliding away into the dust blown infinite.

  The old man jumped next, and the large Asian man she recognized from Luna. It would have made her smile to see him make the leap in other circumstances, now she felt her brow ripple in distress. Stephen held out a hand to her and they picked up packs, and ran, and jumped together, and her sandals were sliding on the slanted metal, but she pulled herself inside the ship and looked back. Jimmy and the purple-haired woman were still behind the seats, shooting over them, around them, without looking and arguing over who would jump next.

  Finally, they both rose to their feet, sweeping the
ir weapons left and right down the train car. The woman took three running steps and jumped across the gap, and Jimmy turned to watch her land. He laughed, put his hand to his stomach and looked down at the blood coming out of a little hole in it, through his shirt. His knees buckled and he fell to the train car floor.

  Ella screamed. The woman immediately bent her knees to run for the jump again, but Sean grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. Sean ran and leapt through space, landing next to Jimmy's splayed body.

  Ella could see the Troopers moving forward through the train car windows now, out of cover, firing, and Sean pulled Jimmy behind the seats, crouching there. The woman, Stephen and the old man were firing through the windows, and two Troopers fell. Sean picked up Jimmy like a rag doll and jumped back to the ship.

  The woman, leaning out of the ship shooting, turned back and yelled toward the front, “Go!”

  The train shrank away from them as they rose, and city sprang up around it. A figure appeared, dark in the now-distant hole in the train car, and knelt there. The bald man, Trague, was behind him, and the kneeling man had something on his shoulder. A burst of smoke shot out of it, and a rocket came blasting right at them and hit the ship near the door. Ella fell across the decking onto Jimmy.

  She saw Stephen punch a button on a big red and green switch, and a motor whined. She could feel the door ramp rising, but the ship was spinning, they flipped, then righted. They slid across the floor, and they were all lying in the corner between the floor and the wall together with packs on top of them.

  She heard Matthew yell out, “Hold on! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

  Chapter 16

  The metallic taste of blood, thick between his tongue and teeth. Matthew groaned. If he opened his eyes, he would have to do stuff. But the pain, and the idea that he might be bleeding somewhere, drove his muscles into action.