by A P Heath
“Fool me for trying to coerce a moron.” He muttered. “You’re gonna to say the guards fired first. Got it?”
Rig didn’t answer and Jaquil placed his hands on his chest to force him flat back against the wall. “Right?”
Rig nodded, still too choked to give his answer in words. Jaquil let him go and he slumped down the wall.
“Say anything else and this’ll feel like I was ticklin’ you. Understand?” Rig nodded again, it was all he could manage.
Seemingly satisfied, Jaquil walked back up the corridor toward the office. Alone, confused and gasping for breath with his hands clutched around his knees, Rig started to cry.
TEN
Rig used some of the credits his mother had left him with to take a tram back to the outskirts of Henstown. He felt wasteful spending them when he could walk, but Jaquil’s punches had left him in too much pain to stand straight and he thought the journey home on foot would be too much.
He still didn’t understand why the man had attacked him or why he wanted Rig to lie to Management about the incident in the tunnel. The miners had fired the first shots and Rig had watched them fired straight into Jay.
Jay hadn’t been Rig’s friend, in truth before Max Rig couldn’t say he had any friends. But he had known Jay and despite his often unkind words and general mistreatment, Rig still hadn’t wished him dead. Rig didn’t wish anyone dead.
The other thing that seemed strange to him was why no one else from the office had come to stop Jaquil from hurting him. The corridor to the exit of the depot wasn’t very long and the office door had still been open. Surely someone had seen or heard what happened?
He gazed out of the window as the tram rumbled along. The journey was a long one on foot, but only thirty minutes on the tracks. The life that had fled Henstown after the incident in the tunnel had returned in full. Rig watched the residents of the township as he passed them by. There were children in rags begging on the sides of the streets, women and men in revealing clothes trying to interest strangers in following them into dark little rooms.
Rig saw a woman standing by a tall sided cart covered in brightly coloured bottles. She was calling out as people passed, trying to sell the wares she carried. She must be new to Henstown because she had no one else with her and even Rig knew that was a dangerous way to act in a place like this. She and her cart were lost to sight as the tram made its way around a long curve and Rig guessed he probably wouldn’t see her again. Once the local gangs spotted her it was unlikely anyone would see her again.
Rig left the tram at the outer most station before it trundled away into the tunnels that led on to the nearest settlement and resigned himself to limping the rest of the way home. His stomach hurt every time he moved and the sick feeling Jaquil’s fists had left hadn’t gotten any better.
His walk from the tram station wasn’t far, but his slow progress and the pain that came with every step made it feel further than he had ever walked before. Rig grimaced at each step as he made his way along the outskirt road heading to the mouth of the west tunnel.
“Shit-picker!” The shout took him by surprise. Rig looked around to see the tattooed women who had taunted him before were walking up the road towards him. He groaned as he saw the broad, evil smile on the leader’s face, her blackened and broken teeth making her mouth look like the entrance to a dark cave.
“I bin lookin’ for you shit-picker.” She said as she approached. “Dint fink I’d find you hoppin’ off a tram.” She looked him up and down, her mouth curling in a sneer of distaste. “How’d a dirty li’l shit-picker like you get the creds for the tram huh?”
As she spoke the other two women that were with her stepped forward and took Rig roughly by the arms. He tried to shake them off but they gripped him tightly and the pain already running through him had sapped his strength and left him feeble.
“Don’t go makin’ this difficult.” The lead woman said as she stepped forward and pulled at his clothes.
Rig wore ripped shorts that barely reached his knees where the ends were frayed and tattered. Above them he had a vest under a slim jacket that was as much holes as it was material. Between all his items of clothing he had two useable pockets and the woman’s hands rummaged through them.
She pulled out the last few credits he carried and smiled as she slipped them inside the ribbon strapped tightly across her chest. Rig’s eyes followed them as she began to pull his vest up to check he had nothing hidden beneath.
“Like what you see shit-picker?” She demanded. Rig looked down at his feet, embarrassed and scared. “Dirty little perv!” She sneered as she continued to run her hands roughly over him in search of hidden treasures.
Rig tried to shake off the women holding him again and felt the pain in his stomach as their response was to grip him harder and hold him in place.
“Where is it you li’l fucker?” The woman had her arms around him now, her fingers searching up his back before delving below his waist. Rig flinched at the invasion and she laughed in his face.
She was so close to him he could smell the rankness of her breath and see the detailing of the swirls tattooed across her face and cheek.
“Stop yer fuckin’ wrigglin’ and tell me what you done with it!” She said as she pulled his shorts down, leaving him bare from the waist.
“What I done with what?” Rig pleaded with her, “I don’t know what you want. You got my credits…”
“You found somethin’ dint ya?” She interrupted him, “When you was scrabblin’ around in the street you found somethin’ good and I want it!”
Rig tried to reach down to pull his shorts up. He felt so stupid stood in the street with his privates on display and this woman’s hands all over him. She looked down at his fumbling and laughed again.
“Good thing you ain’t got no lady,” She cackled, “Or maybe that’s as why you ain’t got no lady!” She pointed and Rig felt the heat on his face as he blushed red. “Look at that poor li’l fing girls!”
Both the women holding him craned their necks and joined her laughter. Rig felt the tears welling up and the choking lump in his throat. He dropped his head as they continued to laugh, too embarrassed to look up and face the stares of the other people watching this little display.
“I ‘aven’t got anything!” Rig sobbed the words out, too upset to keep his voice level and the women holding him laughed louder. Their leader grabbed his chin and pulled his head up to look into his eyes.
“Where is it then? What you done with it?” She shook his face with her hand, “That why you got creds to spend on fancy tram rides huh?” Her fingers felt rough against his skin and her actions jerked his head back and forth.
“No…no…I dint, I mean…” Rig didn’t want to tell them about Max, about his friend.
“Don’t give me that you snivelin’ li’l shit-picker!” She slapped him hard across the cheek and the force snapped his head to the side.
“Take your hands off’f him.” The voice came from behind and Rig saw the look on the woman’s face change as she stared over his head. She’d already been angry, but now her features twisted with distaste.
The pressure on his shoulders lessened as the women holding him turned to see who was speaking.
“You ain’t got no hold on me big man.” She was talking over his head to someone behind him now. “You and yours ain’t me and mine.”
“Maybe so, but he’s Max’s friend now.”
Her expression changed. Rig saw she knew Max and as her eyes widened the hands of the others let go. Rig almost fell without their support, going to his knees, his shorts tangled awkwardly around his shins.
The tattooed woman spat onto the ground beside him and pointed an accusing finger over his head. “You can tell Max I ain’t done with this one.”
She span away, flicking her hands up in a motion that called the others to follow her. Rig still sat where he’d crumpled to the ground. Tears were on his cheeks and his legs felt too weak for him to stand
. He heard heavy foot steps behind him and hands slipped beneath his arms and pulled him up.
He turned to see the big man, the huge man who had come to his mother, who had been there when he and Max became friends. Philp, that was his name. He steadied Rig with his big hands as he swayed.
“Better pull those up lad.” He gestured to Rig’s shorts. Rig leaned down and pulled his shorts back up to cover himself. He was still in pain, but the fear and confusion had pushed it down to a dull ache.
“They wanted…” He swallowed, feeling the lump still in his throat and tried again, “They wanted what you took for Max.”
Philp nodded, “I knows what they wanted, but I don’t fink they really knows what it is.” Rig looked at him blankly, he didn’t really know what it was.
“Never mind them. You don’t wanna be spendin’ no time with the likes o’ them.” Philp dusted him off casually, his touch probably meant to be light but barely any less forceful than the way Jaquil had hit him. Rig stumbled back, instinctively bringing his hands up to cover his stomach.
“Time we got you home little man,” Philp said, “Max wants a word with you.”
ELEVEN
Max had been waiting when Philp and Rig finally made their way back to the tunnel alcove that housed Rig and his mother’s little lean-to. Rather than waiting inside like last time he had been there, Max was leaning against the tunnel wall cleaning his long finger nails with the tip of a knife.
Max was wearing dark trousers that showed the red dust clinging to them clearly and a sleeveless waistcoat of black over a vest of blood red. Rig’s eyes locked onto the blade as Philp walked him closer and when he was within arms’ distance Max looked up from his task and gave Rig a broad smile.
“Rig, my new friend,” his brow creased as he saw the hunched stance Rig had adopted and the way he held an arm across his stomach, “You look like you’ve bin havin’ a bad day.”
“Skez an’ some of ‘er girls was workin’ ‘im over when I found ‘im.” Philp rumbled from beside Rig.
Max pushed himself from the wall to stand in front of Rig. He put a hand on Rig’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze. “You alright?”
Rig felt the warmth in Max’s touch, the concern in his words. He thought about how happy he was to have made friends with Max. He nodded, giving Max a little smile to show he was ok.
Max patted his shoulder then slid his arm across Rig’s back as he moved to stand beside him. “I’m guessin’ they wasn’t just after you for your good looks eh?” He smiled as he said it and Rig found himself smiling broader in return.
“No,” he replied, “They wanted my prize.”
Max raised his eyebrows questioningly, “Your prize?” He looked at Philp who shrugged.
“Yeah, the thing I found what you gave me all that brilliant stuff for.” Rig supplied and Max nodded deeply as he understood. He put a hand inside his waistcoat and brought out Rig’s prize. It shone even brighter than he remembered and Rig reached out to touch it without thinking.
Max moved his hand to keep it from Rig’s reach and muttered to himself, “Your prize…adorable.”
He brought it back in close, holding it before Rig’s eyes, “Do you know what this is Rig?” Max asked.
“No.” Rig answered quietly, his eyes fixed on the gleaming metal.
Max smiled broadly again, “This Rig, this is power my young friend.”
Rig wasn’t sure what that meant but he didn’t want Max to think he was stupid so he nodded his head in agreement. Max used the arm he had around Rig’s shoulders to steer him back onto the street and started walking in the direction of Henstown.
“Keep yourself entertained for a bit,” he said over his shoulder to Philp, “Me an’ my friend here are goin’ for a stroll.”
Rig didn’t hear a reply from Philp or see whether the big man stayed or left. His attention was fixed on the contents of Max’s hand, the object he’d found that seemed to have brought him so much good and bad luck all together.
“Now I believe you promised to tell me where you found this prize of yours.” Max said as they walked.
Rig realised he’d completely forgotten. He was meant to go looking for the place he’d found it when he walked his rounds from the depot but then Groaner had told him they weren’t working today and Jaquil had attacked him when he was leaving.
After that the tattooed women had scared him and then there’d been Philp and all of a sudden he was here with Max and he hadn’t done what he’d promised. The guilt of letting his friend down flooded through him. Max had been so good to him and all he’d asked was one thing. Rig couldn’t hide the shame on his face as he looked into Max’s eyes.
Max chuckled quietly, “Don’t go panickin’ yourself.” He said. “We’ll go for a little walk and look for it together. How’s that?”
It was a long walk, Rig wasn’t exactly sure where he’d first picked up the clothes that his prize had been in, but he knew it was on the other side of Henstown and they hadn’t even left the tunnels to enter the nearest side of the township yet.
Rig nodded. “What is it?” He asked Max, feeling stupid but too eager to know the answer to try to hide his ignorance. “I mean, I know you said it was power, but what is it actually?”
Max stopped walking and gave Rig a shrewd look. “You really wanna know?” He asked.
“Really.” Rig replied.
Max resumed his walk. “What do you know about Sab-Sec?” He asked, looking ahead as he strolled along the road.
“They’re up on the surface.” Rig replied. It wasn’t much, but it was almost all he knew. Max chuckled again.
“That they are Rig. But do you know who they are? What they do?” Rig shook his head.
“They’re the control up on top,” Max started, “They keep the peace, stop people from killin’ or robbin’ each other and the like. At least, in and around Sabaea anyway.”
Rig was surprised to hear that. He hadn’t imagined people on the surface would ever do anything like that to each other. Everyone on the surface was happy and rich weren’t they? Why would they need to rob or kill?
“Sab-Sec’re backed by the big nobby houses down in Prometheus in the south and they’ve got all the power don’t you doubt it.” Rig didn’t.
Max stopped again, “Have you ever heard the word ‘police’ Rig?” Rig hadn’t so he shook his head. “That’s no surprise,” Max replied. “It’s an old word from Earth, but it means a body or force that’re responsible for upholdin’ the law and protectin’ the citizens from them what breaks it.”
Max looked down at Rig and saw the lack of understanding painted clear on his face.
“I know, what law right?” He waved his free hand in a wide arc to take in the tunnels and the opening ahead where the outskirts of Henstown were getting slowly closer.
“Well Rig, down here there ain’t no law, not really, so your Sab-Sec officers don’t spend too much time in these parts…” He paused, stopping and turning Rig to face him, “Except as when one o’ them gets hisself killed that is.”
Max went on to tell him about a Sab-Sec officer by the name of Givon who had ventured into Henstown looking for a man who had killed some people up on the surface and then fled into the tunnels to avoid being caught.
As far as Max could tell, Givon had been killed somewhere in or near Henstown and his clothes had been dumped and forgotten until they were found by Rig.
Max held up Rig’s prize again, “This is his badge y’see.” He said as he turned it over and the light reflected from its metal surface. “I know you can’t read it, but right here it says his name.” Max pointed with a finger to a line of writing just below the hexagon in the centre of what Rig now thought of as the badge. “And here it says ‘Sab-Sec’.” His finger moved to the large words across the middle of the metal.
Rig hadn’t been able to read the words, but even if he had he wouldn’t have known who this Givon was or what had happened. Max put the badge back inside his waistcoat a
nd straightened up.
“Tell me what you know about the gangs.” He said.
Rig thought hard. He wanted to impress Max and this time he thought he did at least know a bit about what was being asked.
“There’re two main gangs in Henstown, “he started. “The Branded and The Cowled Men. The Branded have lots of tattoos and are on the north side of Henstown, the Cowled Men all where big hoods and they’re on the south side.”
Max had started to walk again and Rig tried to keep up with his long strides as he spoke. “You’re not wrong about that,” Max said. “What else do you know about them?”
