by Dave Gordon
Rosan turned and walked towards his hovercraft. Ace followed considering whether to repair his ship or remain a prisoner of the beautiful, savage woman who had taken him. They climbed into the comfortable hover craft and Rosan raced towards the city. The air smelled of warm grass and rich soil. It was so much better than the filtered, stale air aboard his craft. A craft that had carried him across the far reaches of the universe and now lay half-buried and covered in vines.
The hovercraft began to slow as it neared the gleaming city. The entrance to the city led through a polished brass-colored metal arch that flicked with hints of images as they passed. The craft jerked to a stop about halfway through.
“Please step out and spread your arms. The sensors have detected a bio-organism that is prohibited within the city.”
A swift beam of violet light swept down him from head to foot. Ace suddenly felt ill. He began to weaken. His knees buckled. He staggered and fell to the ground landing on his hands and knees. “What's happening?” he shouted, his fear showing.
Rosan looked worried. “I don't know.”
Ace struggled to maintain consciousness. Another violet beam swept across him and he began to feel restored. “What happened,” he said as he struggled to his feet. He felt much better in a matter of seconds.
Rosan said, “The results are coming now.” He peered intently at the hovercraft's control panel. “You were carrying a great number of micro-organisms that were deemed dangerous. They were removed, genetically altered, and replaced. You should be unaffected. The original organisms will be restored when you leave the city.”
Genetically altered? Ace wondered to himself. He was beginning to think he preferred sharp jabs administered by the beautiful native to being genetically altered.
“Yes, well, that's done. Let's continue,” said Rosan as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
Ace climbed back into the hovercraft sincerely hoping it did not stop again until they were well away from the arch.
* * * *
It was hot, damned hot. And it was going to get hotter. The late morning sun bore down upon his back. He cursed the thought of it beating on his face in the afternoon. His saddle creaked as he swayed side to side in rhythm with the plodding steps of his horse. The stinging alkali dust flew straight at him carried by a relentless hot wind. The flats he rode over stretched before him into the distance where a band of gray mountains met the horizon. He might be safe if he could make it to the mountains.
He had to shoot the cowboy that accused him of cheating, the damned sore loser. It was either that or be shot. He could not stay to defend his actions; he was wanted in too many places. He had to run. He left his belongings and ran for the flats. The posse would not follow him onto the cursed plain he now traveled. They knew it meant death to them as well as him. Now he rode slowly, the horizon no closer than it had been the day before.
His horse needed water or there would not be any more riding. He pulled the horse up and got wearily out of the saddle, almost falling down. He had not been off the horse since the day before. He retrieved the canteen and emptied half of what remained into his hat. The horse drank greedily when he put it under her nose. He put the canteen back and mounted the horse. He almost didn't make it. His legs would not lift him. He pulled himself up to the saddle hand over hand. The effort left him drained. The sun was trying to drive him out of the saddle. He hung onto the saddle horn for dear life.
He had too much time to think. Too much time to reflect on his wasted life. A life of drinking, gambling, whoring, there was no debasement beneath him. To think he was once a simple farm boy in love with the beautiful daughter of the town's banker.
“James,” she had said with swollen eyes, “I can't see you any more. My papa forbids it.” She clutched a lace handkerchief to her chest. Her immaculate blue dress surpassed the Sunday best of any woman that attended his church. Her white bonnet could not contain the cascade of blonde curls that fell from its openings. Her blue eyes were swollen from the tears she had shed at her father's announcement.
“Mary, say you'll run away with me,” he pleaded. “We can go to St. Louis. I will find work. We can make a life there.” He pleaded in desperation for the love of his life. His heart would wither and die without her.
“You must speak with him. Please convince him you can be a good husband.” She turned and ran from him crying into her arm.
He resolved to speak with Mr. Carlson. Mr. Carlson was an imposing man with an imperious bearing who was given to judgments of finality. There was no dissuading him if he declared a ranch forfeit. James waited for Mr. Carlson to return from work. James stepped out from a doorway and addressed Mr. Carlson as he passed. Mary's father was having none of it. He brushed James aside without slowing down. James ran ahead of the man saying, “Mr. Carlson, I wish to speak for you daughter.”
Mr. Carlson brought himself up to full stature and roared, “I'll not have my daughter collecting buffalo dung while you scrape a meager living from some piece of sod.”
“But Mr. Carlson, I am going to St. Louis to find work. I shall provide a good home for her,” James pleaded.
“Go to St. Louis, find this job. I will entertain your proposal then.”
That was better than he had expected. He told Mary about the conversation. She had cried for the loss of him but he vowed to return at first opportunity. His parents would be sorely put out running the farm without him, but if moving away would win Mary, then all was worthwhile.
St. Louis was a thriving town with work aplenty, but it was also full of many temptations. He had fallen prey to many of them while struggling for the success he required. His struggle was difficult and the effort changed him. He left the innocent farm boy he had been behind. The day finally came whereby he believed he had attained a measure of success. He had been away eighteen months but now he was ready to return. He sped to the Kansas Territory with great haste. He ran directly to Mary's house, as he greatly desired seeing her again. When no one answered the door, he ran to the back. There was Mary, nestled in the arms of a dapper young man. The cad leaned in to press his advantage. A sudden horror filled James’ veins with a fiery rage. The man stood as James roared in anger withdrawing his revolver from his vest without a thought other than murderous hate. He shot the man through the head.
“Allistor!” Mary cried in horror. She spun on James screeching, “Murderer. You will die for this, you vile beast.”
He suddenly realized what he had done. His Mary stood before him condemning him to the death he surely deserved. He ran blindly down the street until he spotted an unguarded horse. He stole the horse and fled to the west with only the clothes on his back. He had the good fortune to have stolen a fast horse. He narrowly escaped capture a dozen times. When finally as he crossed a wild prairie, Indians massacred the posse that chased him. He disappeared into the city of Denver where he earned money as a saloon bouncer. He crossed the Rockies where peaceful Indians shared their food with him. From there he rode to Salt Lake City where a fateful card game had sent him to the hellish flats he now crossed.
He dropped the reins. It no longer mattered which direction they went, the destination would be the same. A cruel end to the life of mortal sin he had made. He felt himself fading. His eyes swam and then he knew no more.
A ferocious jolt brought him to consciousness. He struggled to lift his head. He saw his horse drinking from a small pool. He had fallen off the horse when she had lowered her head to drink. He crawled to the edge of the pond smelling the water for signs of corruption. He drank slowly once he was satisfied of its purity. He knew from experience that drinking too quickly from great thirst would cause painful injury. He washed his face. His cracked lips began to bleed.
They camped there over night drinking and resting and continued the next morning refreshed. The mountains loomed closer, he was going to make it. A hard choice faced him. Over the mountains to the settlement of Ely, and a wagon train to the west coast; or down the edge of the
alkali flats heading south to Mexico. A stark but safe existence in a foreign land; or a life of comfortable debauchery in San Francisco? When put that way, the choice was obvious. He turned the horse to the west and headed into the mountains.
* * * *
“Hey, spaceman. Snap out of it.” Siln's hands were racing across the panel. “Man the control station, I'm taking weapons,” she said in fright. Siln leapt out of the control station seat scrambling to the series of panels located directly behind it. “Take the control station,” she screamed in a panic.
That was enough to rouse the disoriented Van. He unbuckled his flight restraint harness and lurched to the control cabin. He settled into the comfortable station realizing he had no idea how to operate the craft.
A violent jolt shook the craft. “Crap!” yelled Siln. “Roll ninety degrees port.”
Fear was clouding Van's thinking. He desperately searched for anything that looked like a flight control. He located a display that showed the outline of the craft from the rear with what he guessed were coordinates. He tentatively taped the colored squares under the graphic. A few numbers changed.
“Not the course, you idiot, roll,” Siln screamed frantically.
Van poked the panel several times more or less at random. Something happened to the ship. It could have been a roll.
Siln screamed “Yes. Eat this, you bastards.” She began yelling, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Each shout accompanied by the sharp crackle of a weapons discharge. “Yeah, run assholes. You better run.” She stepped back from the panel laughing in frightened hysteria. She wheeled on Van. “What the hell? All you had to do was roll, what is the matter with you, can't you fly? You were on a ship for hundreds of years for Christ's sake.”
She looked as if she were about to strike Van in the face. Van was ashamed. He was not a part of this world. He didn't know anything about it. He didn't know how to get his own food. He didn't even know how to operate the latrine. He definitely didn't know how to fly the ship. “No,” was all he said.
Siln looked at him and crumbled. “Oh. Why didn't you say so?” She climbed into the secondary control station seat. “Okay,” she said, “This is the deal.” She started with navigation since that was what had almost got them destroyed just a few minutes ago. She thought the goofball learned pretty quickly for a brain-damaged fossil. She left out some of the bells and whistles. She didn't feel like explaining every aspect of modern propulsion, all he needed to know was how to fly the thing.
Van thought he had a pretty good grasp of it when she finished. He was familiar with the concepts, just not the controls. He executed a three-hundred and sixty degree roll with a course change. He brought the craft back to the correct heading performing a spin as he came around. He looked at Siln and said, “Thank you. I'm sorry I blew it.”
“Oh no, you didn't blow it,” Siln said with a small smile. “We wouldn't be sitting here having this nice talk if you had blown it, we would be outside.”
Van was pleased to see her smile. He tried to smile but didn't know if he did it right. “Well, thanks for the lesson. Will you show me how to work the latrine?”
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* * *
Chapter 7
The Dives
There was a lot of time to sit and think, too much. Siln had too many bad memories. They crept up on her during quiet moments. The Caveat was dark. She was supposed to be asleep, but her past would not allow her any peace. Her sleep was filled with dark memories. Cold and dark like her childhood home, the Dives. There were thousands of people and miles of tunnels. There were levels under levels going down into the frozen bowels of the planet. Alpha One, the shining star of the galaxy, riddled with filth and corruption just beneath its surface. Her mother had remembered when it had been called Earth, but that was long before Siln was born. Calling Alpha One by the name Earth was a serious crime.
She thought of her mother. The pain of regret always accompanied her mother's memory.
* * * *
They abandoned the car in the downtown business district. Her mother said it would be weeks before the Forces found it. The downtown Forces were too busy with Disruptors to worry about a car. They walked casually. They walked a long time in the bright sunlight. It made Siln nervous. It was too easy to be seen. Her mother said they had to stay above ground. She said they shouldn't be seen on underground surveillance systems anywhere near the car or they would get caught. That was a rule: stay out of surveillance areas. It wasn't an easy rule because almost every place was under surveillance.
They walked until tall buildings gave way to short buildings. The neighborhoods took on a decrepit aspect, vacant lots and abandoned buildings became more common. Approaching an abandoned building, her mother put her hand on her shoulder and bent down to talk to her.
“Siln, we're going to pretend talk now. I'm going to shout at you.” Her mother stood up, “Why didn't you go back in town? There isn't anyplace to go here.”
Siln took her mother's queue. “I'm sorry mommy, I didn't have to go then.”
Her mother put on a frustrated face and started looking back and forth. “Okay, Okay. Come with me.” They ducked into the vacant building. Her mother peeked out the window turned to Siln and whispered, “Good job, honey. Stay really close now.”
That was another rule: stay really close in the Dives.
Siln didn't have to try to remember that rule. The Dives terrified her. The rear of the building was a jumble of sheet metal and debris. They walked to the rear and her mom lifted a sheet of metal that leaned against the wall. They slipped through a partially-opened door being careful to put the tin back in place. They waited for their eyes to get used to the dark. They began walking down a long, dimly lit staircase. Faint sounds from far below rose to meet them as they descended the darkened stairway. The smell was awful, it made Siln sick. It was as if every bad thing people could make or do waited for them below.
There were dozens of entrances to the Dives. Her mother said the one they were using was the safest. Sometimes they went a different way. Siln did not like those ways. Her mom had fired the gun once, and had to run away from the scene fast. Getting chased out of the Dives was very dangerous. Going out to the top side without looking first might make bad things happen. They stayed in bad places when they didn't have any money. Bad levels—some were very bad. They were lucky because men liked her mother. They could usually find a place to stay, but sometimes they weren't very safe either. She was always cold. It was awful when she got sick. Nobody would talk to them when she was sick. Her mom said she had to hide it but it was hard. Her mom said she had to hide everything. No matter if she was happy, sad, frightened, or sick; she had to keep a plain face. That was a rule.
There wasn't anybody to play with. Her mom said there weren't many children because people couldn't afford to take care of them. Siln was lucky because her mom could take care of her. Sometimes she saw a kid but she wasn't allowed to talk to them. They might find out stuff that would make it dangerous. Bad things might happen. There were a lot of kids up top. They had things to play with. Fun things like bicycles, kites, and balls. She had a ball once. It was blue. They had to sell it. They sold a lot of stuff. Her mom got it up top and brought it down below.
It was scary to get stuff to sell. They would go to different levels to sell different things. Some of the things they sold were dangerous. Siln would have to hide while her mom went to sell things. Sometimes her mom would come back running and yelling. They would run out of the level as fast as they could. That scared Siln a lot, but she couldn't show it.
Her mom told her the Dives went almost to the center of the world. Siln had been very far down but her mom said it went a lot deeper. She said they would never go down there. Not unless a very, very bad thing happened.
“Password,” shouted a ragged man.
“Password, my ass, get out of the way.” Her mother brushed past him and continued down the stairway. Her mother knew the ways of the Dives w
ell. She was a creature of the dark—dark inside and out. She only took to the light when she had to. She would find some way to scam a few bars and then return to the safety of the Dives. She turned the corner of a landing that opened onto a filthy, littered boulevard. The walls, ceiling and floor were chiseled black rock. All of the Dives was chiseled out of solid black rock. As black as the darkness lying within the horrible tunnels. The floors were rough, no one had bothered to finish them. There was no one in sight but Siln knew they were there just out of sight in the shadows.
Level No Name. No Name was a lawless place. Terrible cries, faint and distant, issued from the darkness as Siln and her mother passed by. Siln did not slow down or look down the darkened street. Her mother had taught her how to survive in the cold, dark places. Don't let it into your head. Make it stay outside. Be very, very awake inside. Her mother paused as they turned the corner to continue down. They stood motionless. Her mother spoke loudly into the darkness, “I'll kill you if you threaten my daughter.” She said it plainly. It wasn't a threat, it wasn't done out of fear, it was a simple fact. They continued after a moment and descended past several levels. A faint light lit the stairway. The lighting was the only cooperative project in the Dives. Everyone's life depended on the stairways. The barren rock of the Dives would not give forth any good thing. All of the things needed to survive lay above, and death waited there. The light grew stronger until they reached a level that had a sign: New Bedlam. Siln knew the way well, this was her hometown.
