Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4)

by Mark R. Healy

  What a mess, Knile thought to himself as he watched them. A weak old man, a sick girl, and a half-dead Redman trying to make it across a space tube that seemingly has no end.

  Tobias gave him a little half smile and a good-natured wave to indicate that all was well, but then he dropped the hand to his chest and began to rub back and forth, the smile melting away into a scowl.

  “You need to stop,” Knile said. “This isn’t working.”

  Tobias began to offer a retort, but his words became lodged in his throat. He hocked noisily.

  “Nothin’ wrong with me,” he said, licking at dry lips. “Just the ol’ ticker needs a massage now and again.”

  “The sweepdrone is done,” Knile said, gesturing at the vehicle as Ursie allowed it to squeal to a halt. “And it looks like you are, too, Tobias.”

  “Rubbish,” Tobias spat. “I’m not–”

  “He’s right, Tobias,” Ursie said, resigned. “We need to find another way to go about this, or we’re not going to make it.”

  Tobias pouted at her but said nothing.

  “What about recharging the battery on the sweepdrone?” Knile suggested. “Is there any way to do that?”

  Tobias gave him a doubtful look. “Not out here. Not without connectors and a power grid and whatnot.”

  Knile glanced along the tunnel in each direction, searching for inspiration, but none came. His eyes dropped to the floor, and he stared at the narrow groove in the centre of the aisle. He dropped to one knee. Initially he had assumed that this was merely a join in the structure, the place where two modular components had been welded together, but now he could see a series of scratch marks amid its shiny metal exterior.

  “What is this thing?” he said, running his finger along the groove, tracing the contours of the abrasions.

  Tobias hunkered down next to him, a curious expression on his face. He remained there for a few moments longer, then raised his eyebrows, as if he had made some kind of discovery.

  “The handcar!” he said. “Yeah, I remember that thing!”

  “What handcar?” Knile said. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s how they used to move cargo along this tunnel. Nothin’ much more than a flatbed tray a few metres long, if memory serves, but it could haul people along just as easy as it did a pallet of machine parts.” He tapped the groove. “Used to run along this here slot, like a monorail.”

  “Where would it be?”

  “There used to be one between each way station,” Tobias said, sweeping his hand toward the darkness ahead of them. “Could be anywhere between here and there.” He considered. “Or maybe they pulled ’em out altogether at the end.” He shrugged. “Dunno.”

  “It doesn’t do us any good if there’s no power to run it.”

  “You might get it workin’ with the hand crank, if it has one.”

  Knile got to his feet. “It sounds like our best shot. Maybe our only shot. If I can find one and bring it back here, it might do the job.”

  “So what do we do in the meantime?” Ursie said.

  “You keep driving the sweepdrone forward until it croaks,” Knile said. “When it does, stay with Lazarus and rest. Wait for me to come back.”

  Ursie glanced behind them apprehensively, from where noises of straining metal were still echoing along the tunnel.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea with this place falling apart around us,” she said.

  “We don’t have any other options. I’m not leaving Lazarus behind, and Tobias is going to have a heart attack if he keeps going.”

  Tobias gave him an indignant glare. “Like hell, fella. I can keep–”

  “Listen,” Knile said, stepping forward and clasping a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate the bravado, I really do, but we need to face reality here. We need you, Tobias. Ursie and I don’t know how this place works. If something happens to you, we’re screwed. Understand?”

  Tobias nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, I get it.”

  “So I’m going to keep moving forward as fast as I can. I need to find this handcar thing and bring it back. You and Ursie just need to look after yourselves until I get here.”

  “All right,” Ursie said, obviously realising that Knile would not be swayed from his plan. “Go and do what you have to do. We’ll keep chugging along as best we can.”

  Knile nodded. “All right. Sounds like a plan.”

  He turned and began to move briskly away, fighting against his own fatigue and the pain of blisters on his feet as he pushed onward as quickly as he could. Ursie was not the only one who was concerned about what was happening behind them – Knile himself had wondered if he might be consigning his three companions to death by leaving them in his wake, where they ran the possibility of being swallowed up in the collapse of the Skywalk. However, that was simply something that was out of his control. He couldn’t carry all three of them, and nor could he prevent the Skywalk from tearing itself apart.

  He had to concentrate on what he could do. Find the handcar, get it working. Start moving the group along at a more rapid pace.

  He glanced behind himself, and Ursie and Tobias were already disappearing into the gloom of the tunnel, little more than dim silhouettes in the distance. The old man had taken the station cap from his grey head, and now sat fanning himself with it as he slumped against the sweepdrone.

  Knile returned his eyes to the front and locked them onto the groove in the floor.

  He set his jaw in determination and began to run.

  9

  Talia had never seen the Greenhouses before. In the past, when she’d imagined what they might look like, she’d pictured neat plots of dark, nutrient-rich soil, immaculately curated plants, and clean, salubrious environs in which they could grow.

  What she found now, after the turmoil of recent times, was a desecrated mess; a mirror of other parts of the Reach.

  The place had been raided. That shouldn’t have been surprising, she supposed. When things had fallen apart, this would undoubtedly have been one of the first targets for those seeking to loot and pillage. Many of the raised gardens had been toppled or smashed apart, the soil from within spilling out across the floor. The imprint of looters’ boots were everywhere, a multitude of tracks leading haphazardly in every direction. Even now, the stragglers crawled on hands and knees through the remnants of the gardens, foraging for something edible that may have been missed by those who came before them. As Talia and the others moved past, they turned to watch them with glittering, distrustful eyes.

  “Stupid,” Roman muttered at her side.

  “Huh?”

  Roman shook his head. “These people are stupid. They’re destroying the Reach’s only source of food. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “They’re just desperate,” Talia said. They passed a young girl sitting silently in the dirt, the tracks of tears scoring her grubby cheeks. She watched them pass while her mother dug at a cluster of roots nearby. “At this point, they just want to make sure they have enough to eat today. They’re not thinking about tomorrow or next week.”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure how they ever grew anything here in the first place,” Roman said in disgust. “Even before they tore it apart.”

  “It’s not exactly Grove,” Silvestri said, “but until a few days ago, it was enough to feed most of the Reach. Not that you would think that by what’s left of it.”

  They had been moving through the Greenhouse levels for several hours, working their way downward toward Gaslight, and it seemed that nowhere had escaped the attention of the looters. The destruction of the place seemed utterly complete, the bulk of the produce already plundered, and now the scavengers had moved in to pick over the bones. Talia was aghast at how quickly it had all happened, how thoroughly the rot had permeated every corner of the Reach. It seemed evident that the Reach had been balancing on a knife edge for some time, and as soon as it had tipped, things had happened fast.

  She was brought out of her musings b
y the sound of Silvestri’s voice.

  “Heads up. Company over by the staircase.”

  Talia looked and saw a group of around ten men and women loitering at the end of the expansive chamber through which they were headed. Silvestri began to slow, but Duran continued to press on.

  “Don’t pull back,” Duran said tersely, his eyes never leaving the group. “Keep going.”

  Silvestri reached for Duran’s sleeve. “We need to consider this–”

  “You heard him,” Zoe said, and the two of them moved ahead. Silvestri glanced at Talia, clearly unimpressed, but he followed them nonetheless.

  As they neared, a man in a leather jacket stepped out from the group and waited patiently for them to approach, a shotgun dangling from one hand. The others spread out behind him, and Talia couldn’t help but think of those old checkpoints the Enforcers had once assembled down in Link.

  “Mornin’,” the man in leather said amiably. “Passing through?”

  “Just making our way down to Gaslight,” Silvestri said. “We’re not looking for trouble.”

  The man pursed his lips. “You won’t get none here. Not if you follow the rules.”

  “Which are?” Duran said sceptically.

  “Just hand over anything you’ve taken from the Greenhouses, and we’ll let you go past. Simple as that. We’re the new custodians of these parts, and we’re…” He shrugged. “Well, protective of what’s ours.”

  “We’ve taken nothing from here,” Silvestri said. “I can assure you of that.”

  “So what’s in the bags?” the man said, gesturing to the parcel under Roman’s arm.

  “Those were given to us in Lux,” Duran said. “Now step aside, pal.”

  A second man stepped up beside the first, chewing idly on a plump carrot.

  “I don’t like the way you’re talkin’, pal,” he said. “Better learn some manners.”

  “And what are you going to do if we don’t?” Zoe said.

  The man grinned lasciviously and waggled the carrot back and forth. “I’m gonna stick this all the way up your ass, pretty lady. Then I’m going to–”

  Duran’s gun was in his hand in a blink of an eye, and a moment later the carrot exploded as a bullet tore it to shreds, spraying orange pulp across the man’s neck and face.

  “Fuck!” he screamed in surprise, and then guns were drawn on both sides. Talia fumbled for her .22, which felt hugely inadequate against the rifles and shotguns pointed back at her, but she did not back down.

  “Don’t think you’re going to be sticking that anywhere, now,” Duran said, his .38 held steady toward the nearest man.

  “That was stupid,” the man in the leather jacket said, holding the shotgun ready. His eyes flitted across the assault rifles pointed at him by Silvestri and Zoe. “Real stupid.”

  “Here’s the deal,” Duran said loudly. “You can let us pass, forget this ever happened, and look for some easier marks to come your way. Or you can die right now over a couple of apples. Your call.”

  The man sneered at him. “Times like these, people die for less.”

  “So what are you waiting for?” Duran said, unflappable. “Let’s swap some lead.”

  The man glared at Duran for a moment longer, then lowered the shotgun.

  “Let ’em go,” he said.

  “What?” the man with the carrot stump said. “You’re not–”

  “Shut the fuck up, Moonie. We’re letting ’em go.”

  Moonie’s face contorted with rage and he hurled the remnants of the carrot into the floor.

  “Fucking limp, that’s what this is,” he snarled.

  “Just shut up and enjoy licking your carrot juice off the floor,” Zoe said as she moved past him, the assault rifle still at the ready.

  “You fucking little bitch–”

  “Unless you want your head to resemble that carrot, I’d stop right there,” Duran said.

  The crowd parted and they moved through cautiously, keeping their guns at the ready. There was no further trouble, however, and they were allowed to leave without another shot being fired.

  Once they reached the staircase, their pace lifted again.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Roman said. “Something tells me that might not be the last we see of those guys.”

  “They won’t bother chasing,” Duran said.

  “Why not?”

  “Like he said,” Zoe began, “there are easier marks than us out there.”

  “Even so, that was a stupid thing to do,” Silvestri said, his brow creased. “Stupid and reckless.”

  “And you’d have handled things better, given the chance?” Duran said.

  “Absolutely.”

  Duran glared back at him. “Listen, what happened back there, that’s the only way for us to make it out of here. That kind of response is the only language these people understand. If we’d have rolled over and given them what they wanted, they wouldn’t have stopped at the contents of those parcels. Next they’d have taken our guns, our creds… you can probably figure out where this all ends.”

  “I know how it works with these people,” Silvestri said. “I’ve been dealing with their type in Link for years. I also know that taking unnecessary risks is a good way to end up dead. If we want to get out of here, we have to play this smart. We can’t just go rushing into conflict at the slightest opportunity.”

  “There’s no point doubling back or trying to find another way around,” Duran said. “You’d just increase our chances of running into another cohort, one that’s probably even worse than those guys.”

  Silvestri grabbed Duran by the shoulder and spun him around. “Leave the decision making to me from now on–”

  Duran’s .38 was in his hand again, this time with the muzzle against the underside of Silvestri’s chin.

  “Hey!” Talia cried out, starting forward, but Zoe lifted an arm to bar her progress.

  “Wait,” she said calmly. Then she turned to Duran. “Alec, put that fucking thing away. We’re not going to kill each other.”

  Duran stared into Silvestri’s eyes for a moment longer, then did as she suggested. He shrugged roughly out of Silvestri’s grasp.

  “I’m done with these people,” he said. “Zoe, we’re on our own from here.”

  “No,” Zoe said adamantly. “Our best chance of making it out of here is to stick together. We’ve almost hit Gaslight. That’s where things are going to get worse.”

  “If we listen to this guy,” Duran said, gesturing to Silvestri, “we’re not going to make it off this goddamn floor.”

  There was a sound further up the stairwell, the clatter of boots echoing downward, and Talia and Roman exchanged a worried glance.

  “There’s not time for this now,” Silvestri said. “We need to move.”

  Duran looked impatiently at Zoe, then shook his head in frustration.

  “Screw it. Let’s just get out of here,” he said.

  They began to hasten downward again, and Talia chanced a look up the stairwell to see who was coming. There was nothing to see, just the whisper and scrape of boots on concrete filtering down menacingly.

  In a matter of minutes they would be in Gaslight.

  10

  “Well, Gaslight is about as shitty as when we left,” Duran said, glancing around the smoke-filled corridor where they’d stopped to gather their bearings.

  “I’d say shittier,” Talia said.

  “Yes. Anyway, two levels down and we hit Ninety-Six,” Silvestri said.

  Duran turned his attention from the corridor ahead and looked back at him.

  “So what?”

  “So, that’s where the good samaritan in Lux said they’d set up winches in the elevators. It’s where they’re helping people get to the ground floor.”

  Duran turned away again, staring out into the gloom. “You actually bought that?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the guy himself said he hadn’t heard from his friends since last night. I
n case you haven’t been keeping up, a lot has changed since then.”

  Silvestri finished checking the magazine from his assault rifle, then slapped it home.

  “It’s still worth taking a look.”

  Duran swallowed a retort before it could leave his throat. There was no point arguing. He and Silvestri just weren’t on the same page.

  He had to admit that he respected Silvestri as a fighter. Over the last twenty-four hours, the man had shown that he could handle himself in a skirmish. However, his decision making left a lot to be desired. Most of the time, he and Duran seemed to be at polar opposites when it came to choosing the next course of action.

  In truth, Duran couldn’t wait to cut free of Silvestri and his friends. At best, they were slowing he and Zoe down. At worst, they were going to get them killed.

  Once they’d left the Reach, there would no longer be any point sticking together. Silvestri and the others would be heading toward Sunspire, and for Duran, there was a much different destination in mind. He wanted to move across Link and track down his father, the only person apart from Zoe that he still cared for, and get him to safety. Although he hadn’t seen much of the old man since his disgrace with the Enforcers three years ago, he still felt their bond was as strong as ever. He could still picture the pride in his father’s face on the day he’d left to join the Enforcer ranks within the Reach.

  He wouldn’t allow those animals in Link to have their way with him. Duran would find a way to get to him, no matter what the cost.

  Nearby, Silvestri craned his neck and looked back along the corridor, a scowl on his face.

  “What do you keep looking back there for?” Duran said.

  Silvestri grimaced. “I think we’re being followed.”

  “Let me guess – two big guys wearing hoods?”

  Silvestri looked at him sharply. “You saw them?”

  “Pretty hard to miss. They’re trying to be inconspicuous but not doing a very good job of it.”