El Finito Book 1

by M. E. Thorne

“It’s hard to think you’re not chimeric,” she giggled as shuddered from another small orgasm. “You certainly fuck like an animal.”

  I sat back in bed, admiring her. My balls felt utterly empty, but she was still sexy as hell. She is cute, and a devil in the sheets. I have no idea if I love her or anything, but I will have to thank Gnasher properly for pushing me to do this.

  “I’m a hybrid, but non-expressive,” I answered. “I got drunk a few years back and bought one of those cheap, unofficial DNA tests, it said I was twenty-percent off baseline human.”

  “I can’t even tell,” apparently satisfied she’d wrung out the last bit of pleasure she could, she turned off the water. After drying off, she began searching the room for her clothes.

  I leveraged myself out of bed and helped her locate her clothes before tying them back into place for her.

  “Thanks,” she gave me a gentle, surprisingly chaste kiss. “I’m not looking for anything serious at the moment, but I’d be up for that again if you are.”

  I grinned. “I think I’d like that a lot too." I checked my tablet’s clock. “Can I walk you back home?”

  “I hope you don’t think this is me being rude, or taking advantage of our relationship,” I said as we walked, “but can you tell me what the real deal is with your brother and the job he’s offering us?”

  “Relationship?” she asked coyly.

  “I’m not sure, something between a new friend and an amazing sex-buddy?”

  She chuckled at that. “That’s fair.”

  “But I’ve worked with Noctis long enough to know he doesn’t have the kind of customers that roll in with corporate data,” my voice turned somber. “And I doubt he has ten-grand in credits to offer two delvers to go searching for buried treasure.”

  I carefully placed my hands on her shoulders. “Gloria, can you tell me what’s going on?”

  Sighing, she carefully pushed out of my grip. She directed us off the main concourse and into a small alley between two hotels. “What do you know about the Bluehorn Group?”

  My breath unexpectedly hitched.

  The Bluehorn Group was essentially organized crime in El Finito. If you wanted something that wouldn’t be stocked in the State licensed store or was too dangerous or expensive for the unofficial places, the Bluehorn Group might be your only resource. They offered drugs, cigarettes, bootleg alcohol, and other illicit goods.

  Gossip was that the State knew all about the Bluehorns, and tacitly let them exist. They were the grease that allowed the system to work and kept the population happy; lubricating transactions with backroom deals and envelopes stuffed full of credits.

  Like the one Noctis gave us for the gun.

  “My brother and I are part of the Bluehorns,” Gloria said matter-of-factly. “Our shop is a front for moving stuff through the gray-market.”

  “That makes a lot of sense,” I considered uneasily. “But what does that have to do with some super-secret corporate laboratory?”

  “I don’t know the full details. Supposedly we got the information about the lab from somewhere,” Gloria explained. “And we took it to the State. The boss thought it was a revolutionary find, something to be exploited for the good of everyone in El Finito.”

  “Very patriotic,” I said doubtfully.

  Gloria shrugged. “Believe it or not, but the boss really loves this place. A real patriot.”

  We ducked deeper in the alley as a group of shoppers passed near the mouth.

  Gloria leaned in as if we were locked in a romantic embrace. “There were two previous expeditions, joint ventures between us and the State. The first one didn’t find anything, couldn’t even locate the lab. The second one never made it back, they disappeared without a trace.”

  That thought left me feeling even more ill at ease.

  “After that, the State wrote off the whole thing,” she shook her head, stepping back once the coast was clear. “The boss decided we’d go on our own, prove the lab is real. We’ve been looking for professional delvers, experienced pros, to go into The Stacks and find the lab. You and Gnasher just happened to walk into the right place at the right time.”

  We strolled back to the shop. We chatted about random things, but my mind was completely elsewhere.

  “Why did you become a delver?” she prodded me, digging a wingtip into my side.

  “For adventure,” I admitted, trying to focus back on the cute girl vying for my attention. “I loved the thought of exploring new places, finding lost knowledge and hidden treasures.

  “Sounds amazing,” she said, sounding somewhat envious.

  “My parents told me to be a builder, they said I was good with my hands. I tried that for a while, but it was just so damn boring. I quit and became a delver as quickly as I could.”

  Gloria laughed, “You got to follow your dreams, huh?”

  “I’ve only officially been delving for ten months, and I love it. That’s why I’m so hesitant to accept your brother’s, the Bluehorns’, offer,” I grimaced. “If I get kicked out of the guild, I don’t want to go back to being a builder."

  “Think about it,” she suggested, as we drew close to her home. “Ten-grand is a lot, that’s life-changing credits. And not for nothing, think of this as the adventure of a lifetime.”

  It was midafternoon by the time I returned home. I tried to quietly slink up to my room and grab a shower, but the second I was through the front door Gnasher ambushed me.

  “How was it?” she asked as she leaped up into my arms, hanging herself around my neck. She took a sniff of my hair. “She at least smells nice. How does she fuck?”

  “Gnasher!” I gasped, blushing furiously.

  “I went to all the trouble of talking you up over breakfast,” she continued unabashedly, “I want to make sure you had fun.”

  “It was fun,” I mumbled, gently putting her feet back on the ground. I looked over and saw the door to Spinny’s workshop was open, the burr of machinery humming in the background.

  “Great!" She surprised me with a kiss, her tongue playfully darting into my mouth. She ran her fingers through my hair before pulling back. “I’m glad for you. If you want to make something more serious out of it or want to see her again, let’s talk about it.”

  “Okay,” I said, somewhat stunned again. I took a second to pull my brain together, remembering my conversation with Gloria.

  “Do you think Spinny has a moment?” I asked. “I got some more information out of Gloria, and the situation is a bit different than what we were led to believe. If we’re going to seriously entertain their offer, I think we owe it to Spinny to fill her in and get her opinion.”

  “Sure,” answered Gnasher, concerned. “She’s just wrapping up a bolt of cloth. Go upstairs and get cleaned up, and I’ll ask her to give us a few minutes after she finishes.”

  Back in our apartment, I jumped in the shower and braved the cold water for a few seconds, then grabbed a new set of clothes. Feeling somewhat refreshed, I walked down to Spinny’s workshop. She was hanging above the kitchenette, making a huge parfait with yogurt and a half-dozen ration bars.

  “I burn an insane amount of calories when producing silk,” she explained as she stirred and began eating her meal. “The normal ration allowance wouldn’t nearly be enough to restore what I use in creating a single bolt of cloth. I have to compliment my diet with a lot of outside nutrition.”

  “While you were out, I went hunting,” Gnasher proudly proclaimed. She pointed to a converted oil drum that sat in the corner of the room. Smoke slowly leaked out of the welds. “We’re making rat jerky.”

  “Not the finest of fares,” Spinny frowned, “but much cheaper than buying mole meat even through an unlicensed market.”

  “Nothing wrong with rat jerky,” I agreed, taking a seat at the table.

  Supposedly, the Syndicate found El Finito’s habit of eating rats and moles disgusting. I’d never seen a pig or a cow, but I could never understand why they’d want to eat something th
at regularly regurgitated and re-swallowed their food, or rolled around in their crap. If nothing else, at least rats and moles are hygienic.

  Spinny glided over and took up a position above the table. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

  I filled them in about everything.

  Gnasher’s tail was angrily lashing back and forth by the time I finished speaking. “That lying bastard!”

  I nodded. “Yeah, leaving out the Bluehorn Group and the two, previous, failed expeditions feels like a total deal-breaker to me. Ten-grand is an insane amount of credits, but not if we die before being able to spend it.”

  Spinny looked utterly stricken. She had climbed up to the ceiling as I spoke, swaying on the vast webs that covered the rafters.

  “Nakamura-Ghosi Genetics?” she asked faintly, “are you sure?”

  I was completely caught off guard by the question. I thought hard, recalling what Noctis had said. “Yeah, supposedly it was a huge R&D place before the war. For whatever reason, the Bluehorn Group has it in their heads that it holds valuable data that is just waiting to be found.”

  Her skin looked utterly cold and lifeless against her black chitin; Spinny’s eyes were wide with terror. Without another word, she skittered away and disappeared into the webs.

  “Spinny, honey, you okay?” called Gnasher, clearly concerned.

  She gave me a quizzical look, but I had no idea what we had said that had upset her.

  “Wait here,” Gnasher said, before jumping and scaling the nearest web. She disappeared into the nest. I could hear crying and compassionate murmurs.

  Feeling a bit like an intruder, I ended up pacing around the workshop.

  Due to Spinny’s size and her need for an accommodating workspace, there were wide aisles stacked with mechanical looms, empty bolts awaiting newly produced silk, and racks and shelves that rose towards the ceiling.

  Behind the dividing curtain were vast tanks, meant for preparing and dying cloth. Spinny produced everything from bolts of fabric to custom-tailored outfits. As far as I knew, she worked by herself.

  I ran a finger over a silk bolt, amazed by how smooth the cloth felt.

  “Locke, honey?” came Gnasher’s voice. “Spinny wants to talk with us.”

  Coming back to the kitchenette, I was surprised to see Spinny was sitting on the floor. Gnasher hovered nearby, clearly worried about her distressed state. The spider-woman dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes with a woven handkerchief.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized, her voice thin.

  “I should be the one saying that,” I resumed my seat. “I didn’t mean to upset you like that.”

  “You couldn’t have known." Spinny leaned down and put an arm around Gnasher. “I love you, darling,” she addressed her, “but you’ve never asked me how old I am, have you?”

  “No,” answered Gnasher, confused. “You know I don’t care about that sort of thing.”

  “Humor me,” Spinny said. “How old do you think I am?”

  Gnasher stepped back, giving the question serious consideration. “Thirty-eight?”

  Spinny gave a small sigh. “Try adding seventy to that, and you’d be closer.”

  Gnasher gasped. I was shocked as well.

  “No way,” Gnasher reached up and ran a hand along Spinny’s jaw.

  Spinny covered her hand with her own. “Arachne age much more slowly than other hybrids. An unforeseen benefit of our creation." She looked over at me. “I was born at the Nakamura-Ghosi Genetics labs, before the end of the Corporation War.”

  I had no idea how to process that. I didn’t even know there were people still alive from the war that had experienced it firsthand.

  “I’m sorry,” she demurred again, pulling Gnasher in. “I should have told you.”

  I was relieved to see Gnasher hugged her back just as tight.

  “I just hate talking about it,” Spinny said a few minutes later. She had regained her composure and taken up her usual spot hanging from the ceiling. Gnasher stayed by her side, offering emotional support.

  “I can get that,” I answered honestly.

  “My childhood was short and cruel,” Spinny said, her eyes going distant. “The scientists of Nakamura-Ghosi created my sisters and me for purely materialistic reasons. They were not our parents, they did not love us. They created us to weave silk for them, to be used in crafting body armor and clothing. Each day they gave us a quota and quality level they expected us to produce. And we did it, or else.”

  Gnasher hugged her closer. Spinny held onto her tightly.

  “We worked from dawn to dusk, producing silk and weaving whatever we were ordered to. Food was a nutrient paste pumped in via a tube twice a day. We were rarely allowed out of our stalls, only leaving for tests or medical inspections. There were hundreds of us originally, but by the end, less than half our numbers remained. Of our missing sisters, we were never allowed to ask, but we knew just the same.”

  “The day the bombs struck the lab, cracking it open, was one of the happiest and scariest days of my life,” she said, still lost in her memories. “The war had been drawing steadily closer, and we knew things had grown dire for our creators. No one had come that morning to give us our orders, and we could hear explosions above. One of my younger sisters whispered that the enemy soldiers would come down and kill us all. Most of us just hid in the back of our stalls and cried.”

  “What happened?” I prompted delicately.

  “An explosion struck close to the perimeter of the lab, the noise and the shaking was terrible. It took out the power, everything went dark. The locks and shackles that had kept us imprisoned snapped open." She ran a hand over one of her forelegs. “Another explosion damaged the facility, forming a hole near our holding area. It was a yawning portal that led straight down.”

  “My oldest sisters organized us, got us out of our stalls, lined up, then told us to climb down the exposed shaft as soon as the smoke cleared.”

  “And so we fled." Spinny began swaying a little bit along her thread. “There are hidden depths and vaults in the earth. Natural caves and the oldest installations, constructed by the first settlers and explorers. We made our way down there, lost, alone, confused, but finally free.”

  “We hid for years, afraid that we would be caught by our former masters and hauled back to our pens. Eventually, the need for stable supplies of food, water, and our curiosity, drove us to spread out and explore. We did our best to stick together, but we ended up getting separated.”

  “I was alone by the time I found my way to what would eventually become the Metrocomplex. I had been split from my group by an unexpected cave-in. Alone, I had continued to climb until I encountered other hybrids, survivors.”

  We stayed quiet for a bit after that. Gnasher held her tight while Spinny processed her way through her pain.

  “It gets kind of pedestrian after that,” she said, her voice a bit stronger. “I won’t bore you with decades worth of details. I eventually ended up here, where I decided to live and open my business. I didn’t even learn that my sisters had survived till years later when they made their way here and settled down themselves.”

  “And you don’t want us to go to the lab because you think it’s dangerous?” Gnasher provided.

  “No,” she shook her head. “I want to come with you when you do.”

  Chapter 6