Exile: Arc

by Jack Lance

  “You can be a closed door…..” he sang the last line of the space-funk anthem as he descended toward the river. “Or a corridooooooor!”

  The sides of the dry river bed sloped steeply upwards in a smooth curve on both sides. Skaters used this feature for their own enjoyment, as this person now did, carefully hooking into the curve on the opposite side. The upward curve carried him in his speed up high through the rusty scaffolding along the wall. He slowed as he reached a dangerous height, noticing calmly the body of the naked man slumped over one of the railings. He passed by Bailey’s body, scanning for it’s identity with the networked interface in the mask. He passed again on his descent back down to the curve and then skating over the river to the curve opposite he launched back up high and took another curious look at the half dead naked body. He dropped again to the river bed, skating back across, and up through the scaffolding again.

  With a little less height this time he was able to take hold of the closest railings and hang beside the body. He stared at it for a moment through the inconclusive identity readouts before reaching over with his left foot and kicking his butt with the skate.

  Bailey scoffed and grumbled, still unconscious.

  “Oh, deary moo.” the man said, and then looked curiously at the pattern of Lantis birth markings that ran across the back of his shoulders, upper arms and neck. “Strong puppy?”

  On saying this, an application installed into his mask apparatus began scanning over the naked torso. It identified many interesting markings and genetic patterns, highlighting them within the holographic display, and informational tags sprouted out from the highlights.

  The app tested for street combat ability, and the thicker the marks, the more savage the fight in the dog, or so the bookies always said.

  The man slowly smiled like an idea had dawned upon him and he looked around at the district for ways to make it work.

  Just across from the entrance to the soot caverns was a freight warehouse yard full of crates.

  A highspeed train was at this moment entering the city district and the yard through a tall arched tunnel that led to the inner city. He watched it roll up to the end of the tracks on its bridging and stop with a hiss as two tall robot operated cranes began their motion through the thick smog above. They began dropping their weighty hooks down to the crates below, then lifting them up through the air to the flat plates pulled between the magrail engines.

  Soon these crates full of manufactured goods would be taken back into the city and so a chance was there to be taken.

  The man watched as the holographic apparatus in his mask scanned the layout below for surveillance points and security weaknesses. It was another illegal application to install in the mask but such was life in the exiled world. A green hue overlaid his vision showing him the viewpoints of each camera and colony robot, and carefully he mapped out a path through the industrial jumble to where he needed to be.

  A hollow horn sounded within the factories and the man knew that he’d need to be quick to avoid the flood of rush hour. Already he could see the seething mass of men and women spilling out of the buildings up and down the hillside, in full view of where they hung on the outer wall. Any one of those miserable dole boosters could easily spot and report them, and he had no doubt they would.

  He moved below and hoisted Bailey’s body onto his left shoulder, before letting go and dropping the distance to the bottom of the wall. Angling the skates carefully he hit the slope in a direction so to roll under the road bridge and back up the tributary he had come from.

  As he rolled up the bank his speed lessened and timing it just right he shouldered up the side of the river bed. Using the slope he leaped up and over the high wall of the warehouse yard, and with the right amount of speed cleared the wall and grabbed hold of a CCTV pole on the inside. He clasped at a bundle of wires while hugging his other arm around Bailey’s midriff, and stood against the pole with the skates.

  Above him the camera swivelled on its computer decided path, and he hung as silently as possible as the warehouse workers began filtering by below toward the gates. Seeing that he was in full view of these few commuters he quickly pressed his foot against the pole and kicked back, jumping down toward one of the many big freight crates that were to be filled and loaded onto the carriages. He stepped on the edge of the crate to slow himself and then stumbled as best he could down between it and the next crate over.

  He landed hard and felt like he had sprained an ankle in doing so.

  The man crouched holding his ankle with one hand, while on the far side of the yard he could see the freight train high up on its bridge, and that half of its carriage trays had already been loaded.

  Time was of the essence as the rest would be loaded soon, and so ignoring the pain he began skating hard along the narrow gully between the crates, with Bailey’s short body slung over his shoulder. Above him the train on its bridging of flyovers grew nearer and then he was forced to stop, as the crate beside him was lifted up high into the air by one of the two loading cranes.

  Having removed that box he was now in full view of the remaining robotic workers in the yard and so quickly he leaned onto the bar that opened the thick side door to the nearest crate, and pulling with all of his remaining strength he managed to tug open a gap just wide enough to slide through.

  He held Bailey close and disappeared into the shade within.

  Within this crate was a flamboyant pink and yellow car with a wide front and back bonnet and elaborate furry interior. Such was the popular style with certain sections of the populace. He lay Bailey’s naked body over the bonnet, and hearing a loud thud on the roof above him he leapt for the opening and pulled the door shut.

  Immediately he felt strain in his knees as the crane lifted the crate high over the yard and slammed it down on one of the empty train carriage trays. The man fell back and steadied himself against the car.

  Sighing, he then leaned back against the crate door as another box slammed down inches away on the adjacent carriage.

  These particular crates were carrying vehicles to be sold or leased it seemed, and so they would undoubtedly be taken directly to the central metropolis, which was where they needed to go. All he needed to do now was wait, and let the train travel the long distance across the radius of the city.

  The last crate had been loaded, and the train began to move. It rolled back into the tall archway and over the dirty, cemented cobblestone ground in the tunnel. The same cobblestones surrounded the next district over and served as the main substance used for the paths and lanes that ran between its buildings.

  The train slowly dragged its cargo out of the tunnel on the other side and turned on its tracks through tall apartment complexes, in the direction of the main tracks. Ahead, a passenger tram of workers rolled slowly onto the main tracks from a tunnel on the far side and raced off into the city.

  The skater opened the heavy door again and leaned out into the flowing air, and hung there smiling as the towering grey apartment buildings moved by at either side.

  They were filled with the equally grey lives of the others society hadn't wanted or needed, much like himself but with a difference. His work was of a slightly higher calibre in robotic science and so he was one of the luckier ones, holding his head slightly higher than the hell that sprawled below. Skating was his own way to commute, and a way a to keep fit in a place that threatened to rot you down with its stagnant inactivity.

  Below him cobbled lanes scrolled by all feeding into the elevated motorway, that wove its own path through the sprawl a little lower than the tracks. Other tunnels led through to other city districts, all carved out of the same rock in mega scale silos with reinforced beams along the mighty walls, that together held aloft the ceiling, and the much bigger place above the murky city.

  The train began to accelerate having hit the central rail track, that cut a path through the honeycombed places of the city.

  The skater took off his hologram mask and threw
it carelessly out at the passing apartment blocks. He was a thin man of medium height with black hair and doe eyes, and had the vacant look of a man that would enjoy hanging out the side of a moving train. He was muscular however and able to hold on as the train reached its top speed.

  Cavern after cavern passed by in what had once been a thriving Cequodus colony, now refitted and filled with undesirables from the same system. The man let the wind flow through his hair.

  He had finally found a little luck.

  Suddenly he heard a loud noise from within the crate behind him, and looked into the dark over the naked body on the back bonnet. As his eyes adjusted to the light he saw a crouching figure in the corner at the back.

  He closed the door carefully and then slowly walked around the car to the front door. He opened it and leaned inside, and flicked on the headlights.

  In the beams he saw the tiny figure of a boy crouching and shielding his eyes against the sudden light. He looked scared and the skater smiled cruelly as he stood back straight.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a cop.” he said. “Come out here.”

  Slowly the boy unfurled his arms from over his head and slowly stood up in the light.

  “Who are you?” the boy asked, and pointed with an arm that was covered over with an oversized jumper that he had more than likely stolen. “Who’s the dead guy?”

  The skater chuckled and looked over his shoulder at the body.

  “He’s fine. Just sleeping. I’m taking him to people that can help him.”

  “Why are you helping him?” the boy said.

  “Because I’m one of the good guys.” he said, then spread his arms theatrically. “My name is Thom Gubichayan! I’m an intergalactic explorer! I’m a hero back on the Lantis colonies! Well, my father is, but it will be me soon enough.”

  “You have the South Syndicate tats. You part of a gang?” the boy said observantly.

  “Temporarily. A highly scientific means to an end... like this guy.” Thom said thumbing Bailey's limp body. “What’s your story anyway?”

  “Back at the orphanage they call me Allstar.” he said solemnly. “I escaped.”

  “Horrible places, public orphanages.” Thom said with a mock sympathy. “Just horrible”

  “So you’re taking him back to South Syndicate?” the boy asked. “He must be something special or they wouldn’t waste their time. What’s so great about this lump of meat?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know, you silly little girl.”

  “Boy! I’m a boy!”

  “Yeah yeah.” Thom chuckled while turning away. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, kid.”

  “Oh yeah?” she said. “You’ve got it all worked out, huh?”

  “Heh, you know it.” Thom said looking over his shoulder at her.

  “Then why have we stopped?” she smiled, and Thom realized it was true.

  The train had come to a slow halt and now sat with its engines humming on the line.

  Thom opened the crate door and looked out into a blinding collection of blue flickering lights. He looked around from the gathering of police vehicles and colony droids on the motorway below, that seemed to spread out into the derelict neighbourhood behind them.

  He could see now that the train had stopped half in and out of the thick wall that enclosed the central district, and the old metropolis within. They had made it to the last wasted cavern before their destination, before one of those reports had caught up with them.

  At the metropolis wall the motorway sloped up to the height of the tracks and entered at adjacent tunnels. Around the tunnel and all across the wall were densely littered with holographic posters that leaned out from the wall over the district just far enough to match galactic regulations. As his eyes found one with an overly stylish ladies head, shoulders and cleavage hovering over the derelict buildings below, he heard faintly it’s commercial: “Sagar stores. Your… local? Comfort convenience?”

  Thom's eyes flicked over the gathering of gold bodies below and their stationary vehicles pulsing their lights, and one wikied a siren to spur his decision to surrender.

  Thom closed the door and said “Ah. Shit. Okay.”

  Allstar watched in silence as Thom moved in a dull panic in the small space, picking up the naked body and placing it on the front passenger seat of the car. He buckled it in and then got into the driver seat and did the same.

  Allstar jumped into the back seat and strapped herself in.

  "I take it then this guy's worth a bit?"

  “Hold onto your tushy.” Thom said and turned the key in the ignition.

  With the gear in reverse he twisted hard on the steering wheel and rolled the car around, slamming it onto the side of the crate, that itself was a tightly chained door.

  The colony robots watched from below as the car slammed into it a second time, splitting it from its hinges and causing it to swing down over the sides of the tracks. They heard the thin voice of Allstar whimpering "Ohhh fffuuu..."

  From the place so high over the ground the car screeched in the confines of the crate and Thom reversed it out over the precipice, immediately cutting the engines as it began its descent. The car rocked back over as it accelerated toward the ground, then landing with its back wheels against the slope of the motorway.

  Thom began to brake hard as the gentle incline caught the car, and took it down to the foot of the police blockade. The car halted in a cloud of rubber smoke and sat on the empty motorway as the colony droids took aim at the backs of their heads.

  Seeing this Thom turned the key in the ignition causing the large car to growl and spit flames from the rear exhaust over the damp cement. The wheels span as he floored the gas and took the car back up onto the slope toward the wall of flickering advertisements.

  They hadn’t taken the time to blockade that tunnel and so after dodging a few leering robots he took the car into the long tunnel alongside the train.

  The central district was much bigger than the rest, and octagonal in shape, with a ring of eight city retail blocks left over from the hayday of the original colony. Within that was a broad promenade of various features and events, before the central ring of blocks. Here at the center of the metropolis, and at the dead centre of the entire dome was what was called The Octagon where each of the eight smaller blocks contained the robot-run public services such as the hospital, AI court and police.

  Around the outer ring of buildings ran the central highway, with the train tracks to their side and a major commercial highstreet below. It was the hub of what passed for commerce in the exile colony, whether it be legal or otherwise.

  There was a grouping of robots already at the entrance to the metropolis, but were dodged easily enough at the speeds they were now going.

  Thom swung the car around onto the motorway, clearing the last of the train that still sat half in and out of it’s tunnel, and then drove along the lanes swerving between the crawling traffic.

  The outer wall housed long lines of extractor fans, pumping the stale air away and fresher air back into the retail areas. On the left side was one of the eight retail blocks, that in this case happened to be owned by a restaurant and nightclub conglomerate, although any such ownership was again a token reality, and borrowed from the city system.

  Thom knocked the car into a higher gear and floored it as the cylinders growled loud in the confined space and spat another gulp of flames back over the highway.

  The car wormed in and out of the traffic ahead as they made their way forcefully along the length of the city block.

  Allstar looked up at the balconies hanging out from the block filled with dancers below the signs they were advertising. Each all day club reflected the culture that had taken over this particular part of the prison. Here it was the Sugalectrics, and it was always either those or their cold rivals the Spunkers. Where Spunker culture claimed to be the perfect fusion of Space and Punk the Sugalectrics laid similar claims to a fusion of sugar and electricity.

  Ea
ch balcony passed by with the women dressed in suits and cold makeup, and the men dressed in frocks and glitter.

  Allstar cringed at seeing this so close up, and looked back to the direction they were headed. At both ends of that stretch of highway could be seen the coloured flickering of the quantum-positronic lights of the colony robots. With each passing second they were being isolated within the back street, and soon if not already it would be all too late.

  There was a slimline spaghetti junction at the middle point of the highway where on one hand lanes fed up into a hollowed section of the retail block, that served as the main parking port for those frequenting its services. On the other side a lane led down to the ground level street and despite the traffic lights being red and traffic already beginning to cross their path Thom floored the gas and charged in front of an omnibus, that skidded to stop as it saw this.

  There was a thin gap between vehicles on the slip road leading down into the bustling life of the streets. The car fitted through before descending to the main street, and hugging the merging lane at the side.

  The car emerged onto the street at a breakneck speed inches away from the packed sidewalk and then accelerated onward toward the turn at the end of the cavern, leading around to the next block. Already there were robots converging there with two antigravity bikes swinging down over them. The flashing police lights were beginning to swamp out the natural features there, with the same happening behind, at the far side of the street.

  Thom reached a point were the store fronts ended and the wall dipped inward in a smooth alcove. He took the road into it, past a sign that read multi story car park.

  Immediately he skidded to a halt before the gaping entrance, that itself was blocked off by construction works. They sat in the car for a moment amongst teams of robots operating jack hammers and various construction machineries.

  The long line of windows at either side of the tall carpark entrance filled up with people coming to see what had caused such a commotion. The ways in to the ground level mall were totally blocked by half welded beams and piles of sand, so there was nothing for it.