by Drew Cordell
“Coming up on the hangar,” Anderson said, slowing the aircraft to a cruising speed while slowly dropping our altitude. I hadn’t noticed it, but we were now flying through the large streets of the Slums, passing through the tall monolithic buildings towering toward the Mids. I had no idea where Anderson’s hangar was but kept quiet as he tried to establish radio contact with the Champions. The drone of the engines quieted, and Anderson landed the stealth ship vertically, setting it down inside a large open-roofed warehouse. Once we were inside, motors buzzed and the roof closed overhead. Anderson cut the engines of the ship and deployed the ramp as the lights in the warehouse flickered to life.
In the light, I got a better look at the fighter. It was blocky, matte black, and covered in expense-looking modules from another age. The overall profile was a lot different than the types of aircraft found in Olympus, but the construction and workmanship were impeccable. I couldn’t see any weapons on the ship, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
“Thanks for the ride,” Mary said, walking down the ramp to join the rest of us.
“Any time. Let’s get geared up and head back to the Guild Hall,” Anderson said, hauling a large duffel bag out of the fighter and setting it on the metal tile of the warehouse. The bag was filled with some basic survival supplies and some flashlights. Anderson hadn’t brought any extra weapons, and his single handgun would be our only form of protection as we headed back to the Guild Hall.
We distributed the gear, and I tied the box from my robotic father around the small pack of rations and medical supplies I wore on my back. Unfortunately, when Anderson rescued me from my estate, I hadn’t thought out which shoes I was grabbing and had accidentally taken my dress loafers, not expecting to walk. The pants, coat, and shirt I was wearing were fine, but the shoes would be uncomfortable for walking long distances, especially with the uneven terrain of the Slums and Undercity. Still, my situation was drastically better than it had been a few hours ago, and a few blisters wouldn’t kill me in the long run. The others, it seemed, had more time to prepare before we left or had thought better on the fly.
Anderson loaded the duffel bag with unused gear back on the stealth fighter and took off his flight helmet to reveal medium-length dark hair in an interesting style. He looked to be in his thirties, and his face was outlined with stubble. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he’d been flying for Adrihel, but I definitely didn’t remember seeing him before.
Fortunately, Anderson knew the way back to the Guild Hall, and we decided to take the streets instead of the Undercity for the majority of the journey, favoring the open streets over cramped tunnels. HKs were terrible to deal with regardless, but it was almost impossible to avoid disruptor rifles or find cover in the Undercity. We exited the converted hangar into a dark, open lot. We were in one of the industrial districts of the Slums, but I couldn’t identify our exact location, especially in the permanent darkness of the dead city.
Anderson led us on the street, relying on a small datapad map running in offline mode. He didn’t have any extra datapads or Artemis links in the stealth fighter. I felt exposed and vulnerable without my own gear, but steeled my resolve and kept my focus as we ran alongside the wide and relatively clean streets of the industrial district.
Anderson’s converted hangar was built from an old supply warehouse which had since been cleared out. Most of the buildings in this area were fenced off by tall barbed-wire fences, but aside from that, districts like this were vastly empty in the days when a lot of people still lived in New York. Enforcers were responsible for most of the security before the collapse, and the stagnation of the smog had warded away all but the most desperate of residents as the surrounding factories churned out products to sustain life.
My dress shoes were starting to bite into my feet, irritating skin and stinging as I struggled to keep up with the others who wore much better shoes for this. In the distance, the outlines of large buildings on the edge of a civilian district started to materialize against the beams of our lights. The buildings were scarce here and had mostly been abandoned before the collapse of society. Large, unfinished housing lay resting on filthy concrete foundations where Exiles used to congregate in groups, building their own settlements until they were busted by Enforcers and were either killed or forced to relocate to less hospitable environments. I swept my flashlight over short, windowless buildings and scanned the empty concrete shells for any signs of movement. I couldn’t shake the feeling something was off, but I had no reason to alert the others yet. We hadn’t seen any signs of HKs or anything else since we’d left the warehouse hangar. Anderson had his weapon drawn, but I was doubtful of his ability to protect us from even one HK. We weren’t armored and wouldn’t stand a chance against disruptor rifles.
“How much farther?” Marwin asked between breaths.
“A mile or so. We’re taking an Undercity entrance a little outside the main populace area. It’s in a warehouse we used to use back when society was still here,” Anderson replied.
Marwin caught up with him, running by his side. “Can I see the map?”
Anderson passed it over to him as we ran.
“Hmm, all right. I haven’t used this entrance before so let’s hope it’s clear. Do you know if there are any Enforcer stations around where we could grab some weapons?” Marwin asked.
“Even if there are, we can’t risk going into them. If the HKs can get power to the stations somehow, then it’s likely they’ll congregate there, especially since those stations have the infrastructure for Enforcer repairs. I’m assuming the HKs we’ve damaged could use the same tech for repairs and to regenerate their numbers. We just need to move as fast as possible and get back to the Guild Hall.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “Let’s just try to get in radio range of the Guild Hall and call for an escort. We have a lot of infrastructure set up on the surface and can probably get a signal through to Command.”
“No radio, I’m afraid. The only one I had that worked on the Guild’s frequency was hardwired into the stealth fighter. I wasn’t able to get a signal while we were flying through the Slums,” Anderson said.
Marwin cursed. “We’ll just have to do our best. Stick together, and we’ll make it through.”
After another 20 minutes of moving through increasingly dense streets filled with trash and other blockage, we approached the warehouse on the map. It was in a remote location, isolated from other buildings, and it looked relatively well protected from the outside. A tall reinforced barbed-wire fence guarded the perimeter. The main entrance, a sliding steel blast door, was locked shut from the outside and wrapped in heavy metal chains. Anderson grabbed the padlock and pulled a key from his pocket, twisting it in the lock and unravelling the chain. With a grunt, he pulled back on the handle, leaning away from it and sliding the heavy door along its oiled track. The inside of the building was unlit and piled high with pilfered crates. It was bigger than it looked from the outside, and I couldn’t see a way into the Undercity from the entrance we were standing in.
“Right this way. There’s a hatch in the back,” Anderson said, walking forward into the shadows with his weapon still raised. I moved my light around the warehouse, checking all the visible doors I could. The other smaller doors looked like they were welded to their frames, permanently sealed from the inside.
Anderson disappeared around a corner.
“I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Mary said. My intuition was flaring up as well. Something felt off, and it didn’t feel right that we weren’t armed.
“I’ve never used this entrance, but a lot of warehouses have access to the upper levels of the Undercity. Anderson is part of the Guild, so I’m not worried about that,” Marwin said, walking forward to follow Anderson around the corner. “Let’s keep up. The sooner we’re back to the Guild Hall, the better. It’s just being out in the open that has us all on edge.”
As we rounded the corner, Anderson was standing above a hatc
h, fumbling with something on the lid. Maybe a lock, I couldn’t see it well.
“What’s the hold up?” I asked, stopping to grab Mary’s hand. I positioned myself in front of her just in case.
“It’s locked. I’m working on it,” he said, still fidgeting with the hatch. My heart pounded in my chest. A shadow flickered in the distance.
“We need to get out of here. Now,” I said as loudly as I dared so only Mary and Marwin could hear me.
Suddenly, Anderson whirled around with his weapon pointed at us shouting for us to put our hands in the air. Without armor or weapons, we wouldn’t stand a chance against him even with the Nanotech module embedded in my prosthetic arm. Just as I was considering making a move, three men emerged from the shadows, weapons raised. The ambushers quickly moved to block our only route of escape. They were all clad in plate armor and their general appearance and demeanor identified them as Harvesters. Two of the men held battered sawed-off shotguns while the other held a cruel mace of cobbled steel.
“Why?” Marwin demanded.
“A chance out of the country and a new life. The Champions are done. You and I both know it. Rescuing you from Olympus isn’t going to do a damn thing for the cause. The Champions lost a long time ago.”
“That’s not true. There’s always hope, now more than ever,” I said.
Anderson shrugged, unwavering in his decision. “We’ll be taking your box. Try anything, and you get a shotgun blast to the face. Hand it over, Jake,” Anderson said, walking toward me and stretching out his hand. “Nice and slow. Don’t test me or the hairline triggers on their shotguns.”
Cursing, I reached around my back and grabbed the box, making sure it was locked and handing it to him slowly. There was no other option if we wanted to live. I walked back after he put the box in his backpack.
“You got your box. Now go,” I said.
Anderson scoffed.
“What do you want to do about them? Want us to kill them?” one of the Harvesters asked.
“No. I didn’t go to all this trouble bringing them here for you to slaughter them. They’re valuable to the Champions which means we can ransom them for more supplies.”
“What’s in the box?” the Harvester with the mace asked.
“It’s none of your concern. I worked out the details of this arrangement with Grez,” Anderson said. The name seemed to register with Marwin, but it was only a brief flash of recognition.
“The Scavenger Guild didn’t want your info so you’d deal with these scum snackers?” Marwin snapped, losing control of his temper.
“Shut up! You’re an idiot to stay with the Champions. You really think a weapon could change things? This country is damned, and I for one won’t stick around to die.”
“We had a chance to win, and you sold us out to the Harvesters. You’re no better than the Omniscience Engine,” Marwin fumed. He unleashed a salvo of profanity, raising his voice.
Anderson rolled his eyes and shook his head before nodding to one of the Harvesters in growing frustration. The Harvester with the mace walked over and drove the blunt end of the weapon into Marwin’s stomach. It probably wasn’t enough to cause permanent damage, but it drove Marwin to the ground wheezing in pain as he struggled to regain his breath. The Harvester didn’t look happy to follow Anderson’s orders, but he seemed happy enough to hit someone with his big piece of metal. I helped Marwin up by placing an arm under him and pulling him to his feet.
“Thanks, Jake,” Marwin wheezed, spitting on the ground and scowling at our captors.
“Anyone else have something they’d like to say?” Anderson challenged.
I exchanged a quick glance at Mary. She looked as angry and frustrated as me, but yelling wasn’t going to accomplish anything right now. We didn’t have any option but to follow them and try to adapt our plan on the go. We were reduced to bargaining chips that the Harvesters would try to pawn to the Champions for some extra loot. The hope of using the map to the weapons lab was quickly fading, replaced with frustration and anger.
4 GREZ
∆∆∆
The Harvesters opened the hatch to the Undercity, and we were ushered into a marching order that utilized the three of us as human meat shields for the Harvester goons and Anderson after our hands were bound with strong plastic zip ties. Anderson and the Harvesters hadn’t thought or cared to bring extra masks for us, and the three of us were all choking on the acrid gases of the Undercity as we moved through a narrow section of tunnels running under large dripping pipes that were icy to the touch. When power and water were cut from the Slums, only the pipes running to and from the underground reactors sending power and water up to Olympus remained on, and pipes near the surface of the streets like these hadn’t functioned in quite some time.
“Almost there,” one of the Harvesters said to the rest of us, checking his digital map. As we walked, I noticed network modems and pilfered Champion electronics tucked under pipes and anchored between power cables running along the walls. These were probably used for the Harvester network of communications.
“You think Grez will give us a bonus for the ransom?” the man with the mace asked, resting the weapon across his shoulder while he held a flashlight in the other hand.
“You’ll get your bonus for a job well done once we ransom the prisoners and not before,” Anderson said as we rounded another corner. “Just do your job.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” the man barked.
I jumped as three figures materialized in front of us, and for the first time in my life, I was thankful to see Harvesters. At least HKs couldn’t get us for the time being. The extra three men escorted us the rest of the way to an elevator platform positioned in a corner. I had been trying to mentally map our journey through the Undercity, but it didn’t do me any good since I didn’t know our starting location or how close it was to the Guild Hall.
Anderson ushered us onto the elevator platform and punched a grimy glowing button. The engine grumbled before settling into a consistent rhythm as it lowered us several hundred feet down a narrow vent. When it stopped, we were standing outside dented blast doors almost identical to the ones that protected our own Guild Hall.
The Harvester threat on the surface and the Undercity had drastically decreased over the last three years, and despite the gnawing fear in the pit of my stomach, I was interested to see how they were faring in this harsh new world. Anderson was right; we were valuable, and killing us or torturing us for information wasn’t the profitable thing to do here. We’d be questioned, but substantial physical or psychological harm would hurt the Harvester’s leverage at using us as bargaining chips. The thoughts gave me some comfort and reassurance that there could be a way out of this.
The doors slid open, and we were ushered inside. Much like our Guild Hall, the Harvester’s was a huge open floor with a variety of stations set up along the walls. There weren’t any bookshelves, and most of the level we were on looked like it was used for the odd combination of farming and smelting scrap, divided almost perfectly down the middle. Guards wearing chainmail armor handed us masks which we quickly put on. The fumes from the melting scrap were isolated from the crops the Harvesters were growing by energy shielding extending from the perimeter of the floor, walls, and ceiling. It was clear all of the workers on the industrial side were wearing heavy masks to filter out the toxicity of the air as they melted scrap. Liquid slag flowed down a trench carved into the floor toward a central reservoir vat which was socketed in at ground level, probably transporting the metal to a lower level of the facility for processing.
“Follow me,” the Harvester with the mace said, taking the lead and walking us down the clear path separating the farming space from the towering mounds of metallic waste.
“We’re going to the top floor to speak with Grez,” Anderson said. “Look, don’t do anything stupid and you can make it out of this alive. I know you probably hate me, but I did save you from Olympus. No matter how bad this seems now,
we can all come out on top.”
It was as if he was trying to assure himself he was a good person. Treason in the Champions wasn’t something taken lightly, and I wasn’t sure the Council would even consider negotiating with the Harvesters, even if that meant we died in the process. It was a scary thought, but I had to hope and pray Marwin still had a trick up his sleeve and that this Grez was somewhat reasonable. From my experience, the Harvesters were anything but reasonable, but it looked like their group had converted mostly to a focus on industry and agriculture from a life of horrific crime when the Government still maintained the Slums.
We came to another floor lift at the end of the massive room and stepped on as the men with the shotguns kept their weapons ready. I tried to take in my surroundings to the best of my ability to gain any information that could be helpful in getting out of this alive. We were in a horrible situation, and I wanted to kill Anderson, but I had to keep a level head. No matter how I looked at it, we weren’t getting out of this mess without talking it through. It didn’t help that Anderson knew exactly what we had in the box and how valuable it was.
The elevator came to a stop on a level very different from the one we’d come in on. The floors were made of polished black flagstone, and various paintings and decorations adorned the gleaming papered walls. The air was clean and smelled of cinnamon and something else I couldn’t pin down. The guards behind us took our masks and returned to the facility’s main floor using the elevator we had used. Two big men wearing black suits with red ties stood next to a dark wooden door at the end of the hall. Each man was holding a compact submachine gun which looked on-par with the tech we had access to in Olympus. They also wore a short Hellfire Blade strapped to their waist belts, slightly concealed by the flaps of their jackets.
