by Sean Allen
She was jetting down a dimly lit tunnel, and although she couldn’t see much of it, she knew it had to be enormous to fit the train and its payload inside. The rail car trembled as it sped along its tracks and feeble, yellow lights lining the tunnel made anxious noises in the wind as they passed. Thwip-thwip! Thwip-thwip! Thwip-thwip! Get out! Get out! Get out! “Gladly,” she thought as she flipped on the dark-vision in the kranos. As she had expected, the roof of the tunnel arched hundreds of feet overhead—there would be no obstacles hanging down from the structure to get in her way. “That’s good,” she thought as she turned her attention to the path in front of her. “Now let’s hope this thing’s bein’ pulled and not pushed!” Dezmara stood up, leaned into the wind, and sprinted into the unknown.
Chapter 42: The Train Man’s Ticket
Dezmara was in her element, infiltrating a dangerous compound using stealth, and the cuts, bruises, and broken bones from Luxon and her encounter with Rilek were on the mend thanks to Dr. Weiloonyu. It was nice that she had taken the time to patch Dezmara up—it looked like she had had her hands full with the big Moxen and the other fellow stashed in the hyperbaric chamber. “What did Major Von Holt say his name was again, Artie or something?” she thought. Dezmara stowed the question as irrelevant and focused on the changing terrain in front of her.
She moved up and down, hopping left and right over gaps where different sized boulders rested on one another like lazy giants. Dezmara had traveled three-quarters of the length of the rail car when she stopped and crouched low again. She put her hands on the ground, tilted her head down, and listened. She had guessed right: the vibrations were getting stronger and there was a baritone grumble filling the sporadic lulls of the screeching wheels. The engine was just up ahead.
The machine pulling the rail car was similar in design to the motor car that drove the auger, with a sleek shape and several large exhaust ports issuing from its roof. Fortunately for Dezmara, the engine was so big, there was plenty of room to skirt around the blasts of flames erupting in a steady stream from each flared opening. She reached the crest of the roofline and stopped once more. There was a continuous glow from the grimy lamps mounted to the front of the train, and the glare washed out the dark-vision in the kranos. Dezmara changed the display back to normal and there, in the distance, was a pinpoint of light that grew just a fraction in the seconds that Dezmara stood still and considered what to do.
Normally, she would avoid revealing herself to anyone if she could help it—staying undetected always worked out better than the alternative—but she had a hunch that the Gamorotta weren’t about to let the very people who owed them the most money work in a tolocnium mine without strict supervision. She would need credentials and, if worse came to worse, she’d use force to get them. Of course, she was hoping that wouldn’t be necessary as she turned perpendicular to the front of the train and squatted down.
She touched the curled lip of a drip-rail and smiled. “That oughtta come in handy,” she thought. Dezmara lay flat on her stomach and slid her head over the edge of the roof. She peered down and into the engine for a split second before pulling herself back up and onto her hands and knees. She put the tips of her gloved fingers just before the drip-rail and then nimbly lifted herself into a handstand. Without hesitation, Dezmara reached her right hand over her left and pivoted her entire body. Her fingers gripped the perfectly curved ledge as she swung her legs down and darted through the open window. Her boots had barely touched down on the drilled grate floor before Dezmara had both autos out of their holsters and stretched in front of her. The startled engineer stumbled backward with both hands extended up by his grease-smudged face. He had long, strange ears that bowed out at their bases and tapered to a point, and they were cocked back on his head in distress.
“Whoa! Is this an-n-n-nother surprise sec-c-curity check?” he said. “‘Cause I’m-m-m drivin’ the train as f-f-fast as she’ll g-g-go without derailin’er!” His grayish purple eyes were staring wide with fright at Dezmara from under big, cloudy goggles that reminded her of Simon’s.
“No, I’m not security,” she said.
“B-b-but you’ve got a gun!” the engineer stammered.
“Noticed that, did you?” Dezmara said as nicely as she could. “I’m not here for you. I’ve come to collect a debt.”
“So, you do w-w-work for the Family,” he said as more of a question than a statement.
“No, actually, one of the Family,” she said with distaste, “took something that didn’t belong to him, and I’m here to get it back.”
Dezmara couldn’t tell if the stuttering engineer had been more afraid of her when he thought she was Gamoratta security or now that she told him what she was really doing. “Y-y-you’re what?! Who? How will you f-f-find ‘em in this place? It’s huge—over f-f-four million people!” Dezmara considered the frail-looking train man and decided to put him at ease; after all, she was going to need his help.
“Leonardo Fellini,” she said as she holstered her guns. The engineer lowered his hands and his pointed ears slowly rolled back around to the sides of his head, where they stuck almost straight out except for a slight tilt upwards; but his eyes still looked like he was touching a live electrical conduit. “You’re goin’ after Leonardo Fellini,” he said in an amazed but even voice as he peeled back his goggles and rested them on his brow. Dezmara’s hands crept back toward her gun handles at his sudden change in character, and his hands and ears immediately reverted to their cowering positions. “S-s-sorry! Gun-s-s-s make me n-n-nervous and I s-s-stutter when I’m n-nervous!”
“That’s quite all right,” Dezmara said after pausing to size him up again. “I’m sorry I scared you, but it’s hard to know who to trust these days.” She decided he wasn’t much of a threat—just another unfortunate enslaved by the Gamoratta—and she spoke as plainly as if she were having a conversation with another pilot or sailor in a pub. To set him more at ease, she folded her arms across her chest and leaned against a large column to her right that was filled with gauges and flashing lights.
“So, if you don’t mind me askin’—how’re you gonna do it? I mean, it’s a huge city an’ the Gams’re everywhere.”
“Gams?” Dezmara said.
“Oh,” the engineer said with a coy grin. “It’s what most of us call ‘em when they’re not around. They’ll kill you if you say it to ‘em straight, but it makes us feel like we’ve still got some fight left in us—you know, like it’s us against them.”
“Well, I’ll tell you this. There’s gonna be one less Gamoratta in Trillis when I’m done, but I need some help finding him.”
“You mean you’re g-g-gonna kill Leo Fellini?!” He was stammering again. Apparently the very thought of violence, and not just its implements, made him nervous.
Dezmara stayed silent, leaning against the bank of instruments and staring through the unblinking mask of the kranos in response. He got the message.
“Leo Fellini’s the one who put me down here,” he said with tears beginning to well in his eyes. “I ain’t seen my family in two years. I have no idea if they’re all right or if they’re alive or….
“All right, I’ll do what I can to help you! Name’s Jarley, Jarley MacMillus, but every one calls me Mac.”
“Nice to meet you, Mac. You can call me Ghost.” Mac’s eyes went wider than ever, and Dezmara thought he might fall over. “You’re The Ghost? Man, no one’s ever gonna believe this!”
“Do you know how I can find Fellini, Mac?” Dezmara said curtly to help shake the engineer from his star-struck euphoria.
“Oh, well, yeah, that’s not so hard,” he said as if a person of The Ghost’s stature in Trillis should know exactly how to find Fellini. “He owns the Tolocnium Palace—biggest and flashiest casino in Up-hub. He never leaves the place. You’ll find ‘im on the top floor—penthouse.”
“Up-hub?” Dezmara said.
“Well, yeah, it’s just how Trillis works, you see, it can’t do loops or nothin’
like a regular ship—that’d cause a terrible mess—so the hub’s always facin’ one direction. The half of the city above it is called Up-hub an’ the half below is Down-hub. Unfortunately, all the stereotypes that come with those kinda names apply. Down-hub’s a real rough place an’ Up-hub’s all lights an’ glamour. It’s where you’ll find all the high-rollers that can afford to keep the Gamoratta from throwin’ ‘em down in the mines with the rest of us bums.”
“Trillis has people that aren’t slaves to the Gamoratta?” Dezmara said.
“Oh, sure. There’s natural-born gamblers—folks that just seem to have the knack, like lady luck’s with ‘em, watchin’ over their shoulder every step of the way. You know what I mean?”
“I certainly do,” Dezmara said, feeling a little guilty as she smirked under her hood.
“Then of course,” Mac said, and then paused to pull a long lever that swept up from the instrument panel in front of him, “there’s the rich folks that come to play. Gams are always winin’ an’ a dinin’ some big-shot from this-er-other galaxy. But mark my words, it doesn’t matter who you are, if you end up owin’ the house an’ you can’t cover your tab, they’ll throw your ass down here lickety-split, thank you very much!” At this, Mac spit into a rusty, old can on the floor.
“So Fellini’s in the penthouse at the Tolocnium Palace,” Dezmara said less for clarification and more to bring Mac back on track.
“Er, yeah—that’s where you’ll find ‘im.”
“And you wouldn’t happen to know what the security’s like there, would you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do!” Mac said cheerfully. “You’ll find a couple of goons out front of the Palace, two more at the elevator to the penthouse, and there’ll be a pair at the end of the hallway guardin’ the door to Fellini’s suite.” The engineer was pleased with himself for being able to give Dezmara such detailed information, but his lips drooped slowly down to hide his stained, brown teeth as he turned to look over at her.
“You’ll never make it outta the mine,” Mac said with concern. “For one, you don’t have an access box. An’ if that ain’t enough, the security sweep to get outta here’ll practically strip you down nekkid to make sure you ain’t smugglin’ tolocnium in your skivvies. Even if they don’t notice that you don’t have a pass card, they’re bound to find your guns an’ that’ll give you ‘way pronto!” Mac turned away from Dezmara to readjust the big lever. He paid more attention to the controls than the last time he had paused the conversation, and she turned to look out the forward viewing panes.
The pinpoint of light Dezmara had spied from on top of the train had grown into the discernable outline of the tunnel. The station was coming up fast and she needed to figure out how she was going to get to Fellini before they got there. “I can take out security before they find my guns. I’ll have surprise on my side.”
Mac’s cheeks fluttered as he blew out a disapproving breath. “You’ll prob’ly get quite a few of ‘em, but there’s more than you think there would be an’ they got the whole shebang under surveillance. Even if you do get ‘em all at the checkpoint, the boys upstairs are bound to see it all go down, an’ they’ll be waitin’ for you when you step off the train in Up-hub.”
“Well,” Dezmara said with more than a touch of recklessness, “I don’t have much of a choice, now, do I?”
“Well, beggin’ your pardon, Mr. Ghost,” Mac said, “but you do.” He reached into the front pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, rectangular object. Mac touched the top of the box and it responded with a soft, white glow. He continued tapping and dragging one of his two thick fingers back and forth across the face for a few moments before looking up again. “Take my security pass. It has maintenance access to all the rail lines, cars, and lifts in Trillis.” He held out the little illuminated gadget toward Dezmara.
She straightened from her support and reached for the device in disbelief. “You’re more than your average debtor, I take it?”
“Well,” he said as he smiled coyly and looked down at the floor for a moment, “I was a mechanical engineer in the ol’ days—s’pose I still am in a way, I just don’t get paid quite as much!” Mac gave out a laugh that suited his odd appearance, and his shoulders shook in response to his own joke. “If it runs on rails, chains, cables, wheels, or some kinda motor, I’m the guy they depend on to keep it goin’!”
“Mac, I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, don’t say nothin’ yet, just listen up. We’re fixin’ to roll past a security checkpoint an’ on into another tunnel. Start climbin’ down the ladder an’ countin’ to thirty-five when I tell you, an’ then bail to the right side of the tracks. There’ll be a panel for maintenance access in front of you on the wall—give er take. It’s for a private elevator the Gams use on occasion to come down here an’ motivate the workforce—if’n you know what I mean. It’ll take you to the street level in Up-hub. Once you’re there, you can’t miss the Tolocnium Palace—just look down the street for the shiniest thing there is.
“Now, I’ve just scheduled maintenance on both lifts, so you shouldn’t get any guff from the mine level security, an’ it should be the same story for the goons at the door of the Palace and the ones guardin’ the elevator. Just show ‘em the box an’ they’ll let you pass. But, Mr. Ghost, you’re on your own with the last two guys outside of Fellini’s door, okay?”
Dezmara could have kissed the old goat right then and there, but then she remembered the reeking spittoon to his right and decided a heart-felt ‘thank you’ would have to do the trick. “Mac, I appreciate this more than I can tell you, thank you very much.” Dezmara slid the security pass into an inside pocket of her flight jacket and then stopped suddenly. “Not to sound like a pest, but I don’t really plan on coming back this way and…well, won’t you get in trouble if you don’t have this with you when the Gamoratta ask for it?”
“You bring up a good point, Mr. Ghost, an’ that’s why I need you to do somethin’ for me. Fellini should have his access box on ‘im, and if he doesn’t, you should make it a point to persuade ‘im to tell you where it is before you do anything…rash.” Mac looked at her with a sideways glance before continuing. “His box’ll access another lift at the back of his penthouse that goes straight to the Gams’ private dockyard. You should find a nice ship there that’ll suit your purposes for gettin’ outta this here dump, but before you take the lift, if you’d be so kind as to go back to the elevator in the Palace an’ plug my access box into the patch panel inside. I’ve already programmed it to take the elevator off-line and send it down to a maintenance level below the street I can access without gettin’ held-up by the Gams. Think you can do that for me, pardner?”
“No problem,” Dezmara said confidently.
“Well, shoo-wee!” Mac shouted. “You best get ready to jump an’ roll!”
Dezmara could feel the train slow down just a touch as they approached the gray-white light of the security checkpoint. The motor flitted past the arching glass enclosure to their right, and in the brief second that Dezmara could see the operation, she understood what Mac was talking about. Lines of grungy miners staggered on their feet like the walking dead as they shuffled forward to be scrutinized and degraded in the name of insatiable greed.
“Get ready to count!” Mac hollered as he revved up the engine.
“Mac,” Dezmara shouted, “I wish there was something more I could do right now for you and your family!”
“Oh, trust me, you’re helpin’ me out more’n you know,” he said with a smile. “Start a-countin’ now!”
Dezmara did as she was told. Starting at thirty-five, she counted down and descended the ladder on the outside of the engine as the ground, hidden in the shadows below her, whipped by with increasing speed. Three—she gripped the left pole of the ladder in the crook of her arm. Two—her right boot scraped from the rail as she turned her body into the pummeling wind. One—she leapt. The black fur-lined collar of her burgundy flight jacket hung
in the air for an instant in the frail arch of a tunnel lamp as she flew from the train; and then it was gone.
Much to her surprise, Dezmara made a soft landing. The foot-deep grains of tolocnium sand scattered as she rolled several times over and rose to her feet without stopping. She tapped the kranos to re-engage the dark-vision, and as soon as she touched the button, the large, rectangular door that served as maintenance access to the Gamorattas’ personal mine elevator was highlighted in orange on her display. Mac was right on the money. “Geez,” Dezmara said, “just goes to show you can never judge a book by its cover.”
She pulled out the access box Mac had given to her and tapped the top. The unit lit up, and Dezmara touched the word ‘Interface’ on the screen with her finger. Two metallic prongs ejected from the bottom of the apparatus with a sudden click. Dezmara flinched a little, jerking the small tablet away from her body out of instinct before refocusing and inserting the data prongs into the receptacles on the door. A small light-emitting diode flashed purple and then gray, and she removed the mechanism. The barrier retreated into the wall of the tunnel and then slid to the side. As she stepped inside, Dezmara couldn’t help but notice how exactly the colors of the flashing lights on the portal matched the strange hues of Mac’s eyes, and she wondered if the entire security system was biometrically based.
She moved quickly down the long corridor in front of her. Lights flickered and buzzed above her as they warmed up in welcome of her authorized access to the maintenance tunnel. Dezmara didn’t make an all-out run for it—she didn’t want to draw attention to herself from anyone who happened to be watching on a monitor somewhere—but she walked as fast as she could without looking suspicious. The passage opened up into a plush lobby at its end, complete with regal-looking chairs and a matching couch. The elevator entrance, and the buttons to engage its operation, were richly decorated with elaborate engraving and gilded in tolocnium. The space was obviously designed to impress wealthy guests as the Gamoratta took them on a tour to flaunt their affluence. She pressed the button to go up and the door glided to the side to reveal another revolting display of the Gamoratta’s slave-powered empire: the textured paint covering the inside of the lift glittered with copious amounts of tolocnium flakes. She walked inside and fought the urge to shake her head in disgust as she pressed the button for ‘Up-hub.’