The Family

by Saxon Keeley

  Loge steps back and holds him by his shoulders, not breaking eye contact with the ex-soldier.

  “By now you must have seen this picture hundreds of times before? Refugees of the Purge. They must exist in the shadows, otherwise those accommodating them maybe subject to the same fate,” explained Loge, surprised he had to explain their circumstance to the likes of Daniel.

  “I’ve never seen it this bad before,” elaborated Daniel, justifying his shock.

  “Of course, you have. It’s just been a long time since you cared to look. Things are bad for the Outer-Core and always have been. The Purge means whole settlements suddenly going dark. Then if some were lucky, in the following months survivors begin to arrive in neighbouring colonies. They bring with them mouths to feed, families to house and the sick to tend to. Each colony cannot simply declare they need more resources. Instead they are kept safe in places such as this. A cesspit of disease and hopelessness.”

  Loge guides Daniel through the underpass. Excitedly a group of children swarm the two men. First, they dance around Daniel, intrigued to find a new face and distract him whilst one of them rummages around in his coat pocket. Disappointed to only find a fistful of dust, the child is not discouraged and keeps on searching.

  Daniel shoos them off. Amused at his discomfort, Loge draws their attention by reaching into his own pocket and pulls out half a loaf of stale bread. Thankful for the generosity, the children run off to share it.

  They make their way through the busiest passes until they reach a room which was once used as maintenance storage. Loge holds the door open for him.

  The lights flicker on, set off by motion sensors, and slowly the room is revealed. It is basic living quarters with beds and chairs fashioned from scrap material. Food and medical supplies are neatly stored on shelves.

  “It is not much, but it is home for the time being,” explained Loge, brushing passed to find out two clean-ish glasses. “Sorry I couldn’t meet you at The Clacker, as you can imagine, something came up.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Daniel dismissed.

  Loge pours two generous measures from an unlabelled bottle. He hands Daniel the drink.

  Wary of the contents of the glass, he sniffs the liquid before sipping it. The same smoky whiskey hits his senses that he’d just brought in the bar. Daniel figures the bottle at the bar must have been a gift from Loge for the community putting him up.

  “They are rough boys, but good at heart,” said Loge, somehow knowing what had transpired earlier. He falls into an armchair, stretching his feet out to the metal tub acting as a coffee table. “But you’re not here for any of this. Let me tell you about the job. Take a seat.”

  Loge offers out his hand, directing Daniel to the chair besides him. Perching himself on the edge, Daniel is surprised at how comfortable the chair is. Regardless of comfort however, he refuses to sit back any farther. He attempts to brush himself down, only to realise the futility in doing so.

  “West from here, hidden within a crater, is a miner’s colony known to the locals as The Golden Ring. A name forgotten by the rest of the Charted Systems. It is technically the oldest functioning mining facility in the Charted Systems and it was once the most profitable. A few months ago, the Golden Ring fell silent. All communication fell dead and not a single merchant has returned. The people here were waiting for the inevitable trickle of refugees. But no one came. Other nearby colonists were planning on taking the colony for themselves. Anyone who controls the Golden Ring would be the most powerful force on Jotunhiem. There have been several excursions to scout and secure the settlement. Again no one came back. At first, people thought it could have been Loyalist soldiers killing on sight,” began Loge.

  “But, you have no interest in the colony,” interrupted Daniel.

  Having been occupied by swirling the liquid around the glass, Daniel is startled to look up and see Loge leaning in, only inches away from his own face.

  From a distance, Loge could be described as hansom man with defined features that can only come from age. Up close however, his bone structure seems acutely sharp. His skin appears to be stretched across his face, giving the appearance that Loge is wearing someone else’s skin. Daniel puts it down to the planet’s atmosphere being very dry and unforgiving.

  “You are cleverer than you look. That’s why I like you Daniel. Keep them guessing, personas are deadlier than a bullet from a gun,” said Loge excitedly.

  Daniel finally sits back and slowly brings the drink to his lips.

  “I’m not sure about that,” he quipped back at the comment.

  “Well, anyhow, your right. I’m not interested in causing pointless bloodshed for these people,” said Loge. “Have you heard the rumours of a dreadnought so large it could not fit through the EMRs? A ship so large that if it were to enter the gravitational pull of a planet, it would begin to bend due to its sheer size. A dreadnought that has defied the Brasil Agreement and has a deadlier arsenal than the Sisters combined.”

  “I’ve heard a lot of rumours in my time. People talked about a ghost who would slaughter the weak of the battlefield. That a single bird was responsible for the outbreak of the Revolt on Maia. I often find the truth behind most these stories to be far more subdue and less fantastical then they first appear,” said Daniel with a degree of smugness. “I’ve never heard of this great serpent that lingers in the deepest depths of the Chartered System. What has it got to do with Jotunhiem and the Golden Ring?”

  “There was, a particular individual who lived in the colony. He spent the last quarter of a century hiding from the PeaceSeekers. He was once an engineer for the Mad Son, employed to design a dreadnought to face off against the Mother. His designs are valuable,” admitted Loge. “In the wrong hands, those designs could be catastrophic. However, if they could find themselves in the hands of a friend…”

  “So, you want me to go and obtain the schematics to this supposed ship? Sounds a little uneventful. Not to mention absolutely pointless. No one here willing to cash in an extra pay check?” enquired Daniel perplexed.

  “That’s because it is only half the job,” said Loge, then he takes a sip of his whiskey. “You’ll need to take the designs to Neo-Shanxi. An acquaintance of mine going by the name ‘Mr Han’ owns a dress making shop in the Political District. He is already waiting for you.”

  Daniel finishes his drink and places the glass down on the metal tub. Feeling angry and slightly deceived he contemplates whether it is worth the risk. Daniel has not been to Neo-Shanxi in five years and for good reason.

  “Do you have our payment?” he asked emotionlessly.

  “Your payment can be received upon delivery,” Loge replied.

  Daniel stands up from his seat and grabs the bottle of whiskey from the table.

  “West?”

  “West. If you follow the underpass left from here, it’ll take you to an abandoned underground railway. It originally began construction when Jotunhiem was under the control of the Three Sons, but because of the war it never saw completion. The railway should take you most the way. Once it ends, continue straight from there. Eventually you’ll see the crater, don’t attempt to transverse it. If you’ve gone straight enough you’ll come across a tunnel that will take you through to the Golden Ring.”

  “How do I find his place when I get there? What exactly am I looking for?” asked Daniel.

  Loge looks at him with a mischievous grin.

  “Something tells me that won’t be a problem when you get there. Trust your instincts. It’s half the reason I hired you.”

  Loge lifts himself from his chair to find out a bag and fills it with a couple of flasks of water and the other half of the stale loaf of bread. The bag is zipped closed, then held out for Daniel to take.

  Daniel does not say anything in response. Instead looks at Loge with a level of contentment before snatching the bag and abruptly heading for the door.

  Left from the maintenance storage room, the underpass continues straight
for what seems like miles. Further away from the congregated community, the underpass becomes darker and damper. The smell of sewage is replaced with a metallic cleanness. Eventually Daniel is wandering around in complete blackness. He holds his arm out, letting the palm of his hand brush along the wall, guiding each of his steps. Drips of water echo in the darkness.

  Suddenly, a light begins to flicker at the end of the pass. Seeming some distance away, Daniel is surprised at how quick he arrives at the source. The light illuminates a big heavy metal door. There is no indication that the door is in anyway locked. Preparing himself for a struggle, he grips the handle and tugs at it.

  Opening with ease, Daniel stumbles backwards as the steel door swings towards him.

  On the other side is a huge tunnel dimly lit by red florescent safety lights running along either side. The blackened steel of the underpass continues, absorbing the light, making it look darker than it is. Several electromagnetic rail lines run through the tunnel.

  The sheer scale of the construction indicates the ambitions for the colony. So far everything looks fully built and operational, Daniel wonders to himself why the rail system was never used. It was not like the Three Sons to ever scrimp on their plans.

  Stepping down from the underpass to the tracks, Daniel checks both directions. Each way is swallowed in darkness. Neither way gives any indication of ever reaching an end. Uncertain which way is west, Daniel stands still in contemplation, attempting to mentally retraces his steps to come to an educated guess which direction he should head.

  A faint breeze tickles Daniel’s left hand. Without question, he begins to walk alongside the rails.

  For hours Daniel wanders through the underground railway with no end in sight. For the best part of his waking day he’s been walking. He is starting to feel the strain. Every now and then he stops to take a swig of the whiskey. Progressively the taste becomes sickening. Tiredness hangs over him. A numb pain slowing his pace.

  Red lights. Black steel. Straight tracks. Every mile looks the same. A feeling of being lost in a continuous loop plagues Daniel’s thoughts.

  With no end in sight for today, Daniel finds a dark spot to get some rest in. With his back against the wall, his head becomes heavier and his eyes slowly begin to close.

  *

  Gunshots can be heard in the far distance. Imminently Daniel sits upright and searches his surroundings. The heaviness of his head makes him feel off balance. He realises it’s because of his helmet. Dressed head to toe in body armour, the weight takes a moment for him to adjust. Looking down he notices he’d fallen asleep with rifle in hand.

  The air is cold and smells of concrete and gunpowder. Around Daniel are other Loyalist soldiers. Alarmed, they jump to their feet and get into position. The building they are in is half blown away. Scorch marks mark the cement and tiles. Bullet holes riddle the remaining structure. A hand is placed on his left shoulder, startling Daniel.

  “Calm down soldier,” said a deep mechanically muffled voice in Chinese.

  Kneeling next to him is their commander, Knox Jung. A hulk of a man and monstrously so.

  Unlike the rest of the units in the squad, Knox is dressed in black and steel grey body armour, well fitted and unique. The black skin-tight exoskeleton suit seems to pulsate, as if the suit itself were alive. Thick, heavy looking, grey body armour covers vital areas. Though they are bulking slabs of protection, his movement is completely unhindered. Hanging from Knox’s waist is what can only be described as a skirt, two lose pieces of black leather covering half of each leg. The bottom of his face is covered by a mask that is integrated with the rest of the suit. Wires and tubes run from his back, around his neck and connects to the mask. Covering the rest of his head is a face mask with large red lenses.

  “It has not yet begun. The gun fire is from a few blocks away, they have reached the blockade. Come we must make our move,” Knox informed Daniel.

  Daniel simply nods in full understanding of what is being asked of him. Cautiously he brings himself to his feet, keeping his height level to the wall he was sleeping against.

  There is pause as they wait for further instructions.

  Without a word, their commander points two figures towards the staircase signalling to ‘move out’. Knox leads with a pace that is initially hard to keep up with. The squad organises itself and follows close behind. Daniel takes his position second to their commander. Each of the men and women are battle-hardened, hand-picked and, above all, loyal.

  They move down the stairs to street level, making as little noise as possible. The buildings around them become alive with shadows moving in the night. Other Loyalist squads take their positions. Exiting the building into the open, Knox raises his fist. Daniel and the rest of the squad imminently stop.

  Almost as if he could sense the advancement of the enemy in the disruption of the air, Knox gives the signal to take cover. Scattering, each of the soldiers find safety behind rubble or climb over into abandoned homes and shops.

  Daniel rests against a collapsed building on the opposite side of the street to is his commander. For a second, Daniel swears he makes eye contact from behind those red lenses. It is quickly dismissed as Knox nods forward, reminding Daniel to focus.

  On the ground besides him, he notices a body lying dead in a dried pool of blood. Though the body is mangled, it wears civilian clothes. He must have been a causality of the conflict this morning.

  Suddenly, Daniel is taken by a sense of unease, unsure whether his eyes are playing tricks on him.

  The dead body reanimates. From the corpse, loud groans and spluttering begins to resonate in the silence of the street. Shocked, Daniel looks around to his fellow soldiers for advice.

  Before he can get an answer, a hand weakly grasps his leg. Gawking at Daniel, the not so dead corpse smiles and beings to laugh a gargled laugh. In his other hand, the civilian presents an unpinned grenade.

  Just as it is about to explode, an unhuman force carries Daniel away to safety.

  *

  Daniel awakes in a panic, frantically waving his arms about. It takes a good few seconds for him to distinguish reality from dream. Gasping for breath, the first sobering sensation is his dry mouth. He finds out a flask of water from the bag and begins to gulp it all down.

  Half empty, he stops himself and remembers that he must drink it sparingly. Feeling as exhausted as he was when he fell asleep, Daniel concludes that perhaps he had only slept for a couple of hours. However, the tunnel no longer seems so dark. Farther down, daylight creeps in. Daniel had walked until the early hours of the morning. Dust has gathered in the crevices of his coat and for the first time on this planet Daniel is thankful to see the grey dirt.

  The groans from his stomach remind him that he should eat. Daniel takes no pleasure in eating the stale bread, but understands he will need the energy to cross the dust to reach the Golden Ring.

  After an unsatisfying breakfast, he strips down to his underwear and shakes out the dust from his clothes. Clouds of grey are carried off down the tunnel.

  His body is a canvas of scars and burns. A story once went with each one, but as time passes they have lost meaning. Muscle has been forged through circumstance, his stature lean but intimidating. No one usually intends on picking a fight with him. Before redressing he climbs over the other side of the tracks to relieve himself.

  Buttoning up the last button on his shirt, Daniel then picks up his coat. Inspecting the initials ‘C.J.’ stitched in the inside collar, a sadness weighs down heavy on him. Throwing it on, he picks up the bag and continues towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

  At the end of the tunnel, he notices the familiar twisted metal and destruction of war. Daniel had been confused why the railways were inoperable, now it is painfully obvious. Dust blankets the opening of the tunnel. Daniel stands looking out at a clam desert of dust, on the horizon is the crater.

  From his pocket a quiet melody begins to play. Daniel reaches for a wireless ear piece and answe
rs the call.

  “Pilot, is everything OK?” asked Daniel concerned.

  “Everything is fine here, what happened to you? You went off the sensors for the whole night. We were worried about you,” said Pilot equally concerned. Her pronunciation of every word is perfect, her tone warm and yet assured.

  “Yeah, I was walking in some abandoned underground rail system all night,” explained Daniel.

  “We could of came and picked you up,” said Pilot as if it were self-evident.

  “Not possible. I’m heading into a dark zone. We shouldn’t give our presence away. Stay where you are, I’ll be back by this evening,” ordered Daniel.

  “Understood Captain. We are here on standby if you need us,” Pilot reassured him, then hangs up.

  Daniel removes the ear piece and places it back into his coat pocket. Taking in the desolate view, he sighs.

  A cool, slow, refreshing breeze sweeps through his hair. Only a small amount of dust is unsettled. With the sun baring down, Daniel decides not to do up his coat and begins his descent down to the dust that stands between him and the Golden Ring.

  *

  Arriving at the foot of the crater, the tunnel’s opening looks nothing more than a black dot in a sea of grey. Just as Loge said, he did the best he could to travel in a straight line. Quickly Daniel realises what it is that he should be searching for. He beings to climb, but only as far as where he imagines the level of the railway to be.

  Every step he takes, his feet sink into the dust. Falling on his hands, Daniel continues to scale the foot of the crater on all fours.

  After a few yards, his hands are dry and sore. The dirt begins to push up into his finger nails. Daniel checks to see whether his fingers are bleeding, he is relieved to see that they are not. He leaps to reach new heights, the ground is disturbed, irritating his eyes. Daniel presses on undeterred.

  He feels the surface under him change density. Sweeping away the dust, a blackened steel hatch is reviled. Unsure if he was fatigued from the climb, the digging, or whether the hatch is as stiff as it feels, Daniel struggles to lift the hunk of metal open. The hinges screech a metallic cry.