Warrior- Integration

by David Hallquist

  A living wave made of wrinkled hide, tearing claws, and slavering teeth rolls over me. They don’t knock me down, they just swarm over me, crawling over me and crawling over each other until I’m buried in a seething mass of stinking vermin.

  I bellow at them. What am I saying? It doesn’t matter anymore. The universe has turned into a place of darkness and teeth and pain. There is no more technique or focus, just tearing and rending, mine and theirs. Time goes away; there is only the endless nightmare.

  Eventually, I notice the quiet. Nothing is tearing at me anymore or trying to kill me. It feels strange.

  My hearing returns, and I can see the pile of dead lunar wolves around me. The remainder are filing out of the habitat. The females are carrying pups in their jaws. Some of the males stand between me and the queue of rats, hissing at me.

  They ran into something the swarm couldn’t handle, and now the swarm is moving on. I let them go.

  It’s all I can do to stand.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 27

  The world seems to waver in and out of existence. Sleep and oblivion call. If I fall asleep now, I’ll never wake up again. The monster is about to eat me alive from the inside, it’s beginning to slip free. It demands food, and I bend over as waves of ravenous hunger tear through me, blurring my sight. Horribly, the dead rats at my feet actually smell good, and my mouth waters.

  No way. Not happening. Besides, food and water should be in the habitat somewhere.

  Heat and light first. Something must still be making power, producing fresh air for this place, or the air would be stale like in so many of the other tunnels. I crunch my way over to the light switch and turn it on.

  Light comes on in a flare of pain as my sight goes away. After so long in the darkness, real light comes as a burning fire. A slithering, skittering sound rises as the various insects and such slide out of the light. Just as well I cannot see them. The Lunar Wolves will avoid the light as well.

  When I can see again, the filth-stained, vaulted chamber swims into view. The white LEDs show a ruined chamber, torn and unrecognizable furniture, and panels glowing with light under a filmy crust.

  It’s amazing that anything works at all. Lunars know how to build, that’s for sure. I shake my head as I compare this to Terra’s constant blackouts and equipment failures. Why? I guess our tech fails because it can. On Luna, cold vacuum death is right outside the door. Any mistake, at any time, and everyone dies. It’s forged a tough and disciplined people.

  Wiping off the wall panel, I take a look at what is left. The radiation sensors show elevated levels, but it’s mostly safe. Radioactivity is one of the few problems that will go away if you wait long enough. The settlement was a fair-sized town. The main reactor went offline a long time ago, but there are lots of energy reserves all over the place. Again, redundancy in everything is the Lunar way. I turn on lights and heat for one of the habitation sections and leave the rest dark for now.

  The walls are stained, but the crystals of the naked Lunar rock gleam in the lights. The metal doors to the halls beyond gleam under their scratches and corrosion. The panels say there are no dangerous radiation or toxins on the other side. Are they right? Time to find out.

  The door sticks and groans. All kinds of debris and crusty crud fill the tracks. Clean it out, don’t think about what it must be. There we are, try again. The door slides open with a low rumble. Light and clean air flow into the room. The overhead lights of the round hallways have gaps of darkness, but it’s enough to show the clean, brightly painted walls. It looks safe, homey even.

  I find a lot of wreckage and remains of vermin as I walk the abandoned halls, but no human remains. They would not have left the bodies, of course. How many died in the accident? I’ll never know. I wonder how they did. Did they found a new facility and lead to the Lunars of today?

  At the habitation ward, the powered doors stick, refusing to open until I’ve cleaned out the tracks. When they open, I get fresh air from a recycler that doesn’t have the stink of rats, vermin, or blood in it. I’d forgotten that air could smell like this. I go in and seal the doors behind me.

  This wing has a row of small rooms, a dining area, a clinic, and all the other needs of a small village carved into Lunar rock. Almost half of the systems are still working, somehow.

  Clinic first. I’m leaving a trail of blood as I go, and I can almost feel the disease from the bites seeping into me. All the meds are behind the wall in sealed containers, out of reach. In a clinic like this, the med-computers diagnose and dispense medication. Only four of the med computers are on, and two are free of error messages.

  One of the functioning med-computers freaks out when it takes my blood sample. I don’t get most of the jargon it’s printing out, but basically, it’s telling me to get to a hospital right away. Yeah, I’ll just go and do that.

  The med-comp authorizes emergency procedures and certifies the antibiotics and other drugs in its inventory. Looks like only some of the most basic drugs are still available. Better than nothing. Needles go into me—antibiotics, pain killers, nutritional supplements and hydration, and something with a name as long as my arm. Then, sprayers fold out and hose down my wounds with stinging antiseptics. No auto-sutures are available, so I stich myself up and apply waterproof, medicated bandage seals.

  Now, food and water. I down a liter of distilled water in no time, and I’m slowly working on another. A lot of the food recyclers have weird stuff growing in them. I’ll pass on those. This one looks to be all functional. When I open it up, the smell makes my stomach want to eat me from the inside. I fill up fast. Simple, gray, and mostly tasteless, but it’s the best thing I can remember eating.

  I pick a room that’s wholly functional. It’s a small, spartan room, with basic facilities, but it’s a palace to me now. In the shower, hot water makes me feel human once more. All the crud clogs the drain. After about three more of these, I think I’ll be good.

  I hit the bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 28

  When I wake up, I feel almost human again. The monster stirs and reminds me I may not be. Still, my claws have fallen off, and my skin looks normal again. Shower, shave, breakfast—the old rituals so long forgotten.

  After a search, I find clothes. Tattered and worn with age, they are better than nothing. It takes a while to find boots and clothes that fit, and it’s a surprise when I do. Most Lunars are taller and thinner than I am; I’ve had to have all my clothes tailored to Terran standards on Luna, that or wear smart cloth.

  Still, I guess it makes sense. Those first Lunars, centuries ago, weren’t any different than the Terrans they were fleeing. How many generations? How many deaths for them to change to what they are now? Was genetic engineering involved? Probably. Now, Lunars are taller, thinner, longer-lived, and tend to be more intelligent (and they never let us, Terrans, forget it). We’re both still the same species, but someday that might change too. And the Lunars are the most human of the people that have left the Earth.

  Searching through the compound, I find a few other useful items. A knife, always necessary. Another knife, and another. It’s not like you can have too many. No guns or power implements; they cleaned out all the really important stuff on the way out. Still, I find a variable temperature cloak, a set of goggles, and a breathing mask—you can never trust the air in some of these old tunnels. The mask will also help confuse the search agents watching everywhere behind the endless cameras. I disassemble a panel to make a handheld light. I won’t use it much; the darkness is safer, but it could come in handy.

  I go over the whole facility one last time before I go, turning off the lights and sealing the doors. Someone should remember; here were brave pioneers who made a desolate, lifeless world their home. Such bravery and determination. Taming the Antarctic was child’s play in comparison.

  One last door opens into wonder. High Gothic arches sweep up to meet in a point. The bare Lunar
rock is carved with a thousand different frescoes—people I don’t know in scenes I’m not familiar with. The reverent love of the work is clear though. High on the walls, the frescoes and scenes shine in a hundred colors of holographic wonder. All the people up there in those scenes seem to be staring at me, and their archaic dress doesn’t seem out of place at all here. Facing the rows of rock pews, behind the stone altar, is the reason for this church, or cathedral, or whatever they call it. The tortures inflicted on the crucified one leave nothing to the imagination. So much time later, and we’re still doing things like that to each other.

  The meek may not have inherited the Earth, but they took the moon. I’d broken up cults of Christians and other religions on Terra and run them out of the arcologies into the wilderness. The State is the only god on Terra, and it is a jealous and wrathful god indeed.

  Now, I’m sheltering here. I’d be dead without this place. I don’t deserve any mercy from God, of course, any more than I deserve the second chance at life I have. Still, I know what I did on Terra was wrong. I’d like to try and fix things and do something good. It won’t balance out the bad, but something good needs to come from my life.

  I won’t try to bargain with God. If He doesn’t exist, there is no point. If He’s real, you don’t bargain with your superior, you obey. So I stand there in the ancient beauty, waiting.

  Nothing happens. No great revelation comes, showing me the righteous course I should take. I don’t get hit with any lightning bolts, either, as much as I deserve it.

  OK. I don’t know how this works; all the religious works are burned on Earth. I was wrong. I could apologize forever, and it would never wash away all the blood. I’m just asking for a chance, a chance to help make things right. I want to save those people in the hospital and make up for the things I’ve done. If it takes years or a lifetime, whatever I have to endure or fight through, I’ll try to make it right.

  I’m going into the dark places again. Old temptations will be back, trying to pull me back into the life I had before. Please help me stay on track. I don’t think I can do this alone. And the monster…please help me remember that I am a man.

  I’m going to try to make it right. Otherwise, this new life is for nothing.

  There are no supernatural flashes of light or thunder. Still, I seem more focused. I’ll take all the help I can get. I turn out the lights as I go, but one LED by the altar remains alight.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 29

  The journey takes me deeper into the depths of Luna. I’ll have to go the darkest and deepest parts before I can go up again. I won’t be able to go to the modern surface settlements without gear. More importantly, I’ll need information. With a thing like the murder-lab, I can’t just go to the police without more information and, more importantly, proof.

  That means the deepest and darkest part of Luna—Hades. I spent a lot of time there; dark times and black memories. Stuff best forgotten. Now, I’ll have to go back in there again and hope, somehow, I can get back out. Hades is like a black hole—it’s easy to get in; getting out is the hard part.

  I’m packed for the journey, dried, flat crusts from the food synthesizer, wrapped tight, should last for weeks. There is no way to carry all the water I’ll need, but the flasks on my belt will be good for days. My decontamination device is rigged up from spare filters and a heating element. It won’t be perfect, but it’s better than nothing.

  I take a last look at Jefferson Junction. I cleaned up the entrance the vermin had defiled; lights gleam off bare Lunar rock. The light flowing out into the tunnels goes out, and the heavy outer doors rumble shut. It can serve as a safe place to live again, if needed. I think about the descendants of Jefferson Junction, whoever they are, and if they lived. I can’t pay you back for this, but you’ve got my thanks, anyway. I’d have finally died, except for this place.

  Now, I begin my long hike down the dark way, the forgotten way. These old passages were laid down in the early, first days. I’ve memorized the maps from the habitat, but those maps are centuries out of date. What new tunnels were added? Which ones were sealed up or collapsed? There is no way to know.

  I keep the lights out. The dark is safer. Light will carry for kilometers in the lightless labyrinth. Light could attract vermin and lunar wolves. Worse, it could attract two-legged predators or smugglers who would like to get rid of any potential witnesses. Best for us all to pass unseen in the night.

  My eyes have adjusted to the darkness again, and the faint outlines of the tunnel walls seem to blur as they pass by. I can hear the small sounds of the tunnel echoing again, building up a picture of what is around me. I’ve got the mask off so I can scent trouble coming. My time in the habitat dulled my senses, but once again, I’m at home in the dark.

  Soon, I find a cave-in along the main tunnel. It must have happened a long time ago; it’s probably why the Junction was not rediscovered. That and what was living there. I trace my way back and go down a side passage that should take me to a main tunnel. Hades occupies a central location under Shackleton; all the tunnels should eventually lead there.

  There are endless cave-ins, sealed passages, and new tunnels. My sense of direction is excellent, but no one can navigate this black labyrinth from memory. Getting lost is inevitable; just the first step of finding my way.

  Time blends together in the dark. Endless kilometers of dark tunnels blend into one reality and one time, interrupted by events and crises. The danger helps break up the time and makes me feel alive again in the Lunar catacombs.

  I run into other nests of vermin. The light scatters the small creatures, and my knife makes short work of the wandering giant rats.

  The mask saves my life from two pockets of bad air. One was a foul smelling gas I scented long before I came on it. In the other case, nausea and watering eyes were my only warning, and I barely got the mask on before I passed out.

  Along the way, I find water I can drink and some too dangerous to even touch. One of the tunnels is flooded with the precious liquid, but it’s too bitter to drink even after filtering. I also discover I can now hold my breath for the ten minutes it takes to swim through it.

  Only once do I see a sign of anything human. An alcove had been turned into a smuggler’s hide-out. There’s a heater, spare water, food, and spaces in the rocks for hiding contraband. I can smell the three that had been there recently, and the heater is still warm. I leave it untouched and pass on by.

  I smell Hades before I see it. Thousands of human beings in tight enclosures, with old overtaxed air recyclers. Dim blue lights are the next sign, as well as the occasional bits of cast-off rubbish from those who have passed this way.

  A few people pass by, cloaked against the cold and masked against the air. We give each other a wide berth; no one trusts anyone down here. A few squatters watch me go from side tunnels as they cluster about the red light from heat coils.

  There it is. The great hatch that froze open long ago. People are coming and going through the wide entrance. Blue lights make the misty air beyond glow as shadows come and go. Here it is: my past and my destination. Hades.

  * * * * *

  Part Five: Hades

  Chapter 30

  Early on, most people dug deep into Luna. It was the only way to get to the water and to avoid the radiation. Later, better shielding became available, and people moved back up, wanting to see the sun and sky again. People moved up to the new structures—glass castles on the moon. That left a lot of old tunnels just waiting to be used again. Soon, people moved back in. Squatters, outcasts, impoverished, and criminals all found a new home in the depths of the moon.

  Most of these Lunar underworlds have the names of the cities above them. Down deep where the tunnels link together, and smugglers move in darkness, they have another name: Hades.

  Down here, the air has been breathed, re-breathed, burned, then mixed with chemicals. It’s a thick, choking soup that hasn’t had much to do with an air processor. The cold is
everywhere. Condensation runs down everything, and thick mists flow from vent grates and human breath. Dim lights glow here and there—islands of light in the misty cold darkness. Through the mists and shadows, human shapes come and go carefully in the dangerous halls.

  The danger isn’t the air; it isn’t the cold; it isn’t even the gigantic predatory rats. No. The danger is what it always is and always has been on Earth and every other world we go to. The danger is one’s fellow man. Killers, gangsters, and smugglers; they’re all down here. Struggling for turf, extra resources, or just to stay alive, people down here need to keep a sharp eye and a sharper blade.

  I pass people in the dim halls. Masks filter out the bad air and mold. Cloaks keep them warm and keep the drizzle of fluids off them. Eyes go past me quickly. My claws may have fallen off, but I still stand out—a Terran in tattered and stained clothing. Still, I don’t look like easy pickings, I don’t look rich, and I don’t look like I’m going to start trouble…today at least. I’m clearly not a cop, hunter, or gang member. So, they let me be, for now.

  I feel the impressions of the place again, the undercurrent of the tension, greed, and fear that flow through the air. It all comes back to me: how to walk, how to look, how to hold myself. One wrong mistake, and you get turned into biomass. I don’t blend in, I never will, but I can at least let people know I’m not interested in messing with them (today), and that they don’t want to mess with me (ever).

  I can’t go the cops. They turned me over to the murder-lab. It isn’t that Lunar cops are dirty, actually they tend to be very honest. It’s about the Lunar concept of harmony. Whatever minimizes a disruption is best in a fragile habitat in vacuum. Do the Terrans want their crazy Terran back? Give him to them. He’s not one of us, after all. They won’t believe anything without evidence, so I have to do this on my own.