He finally found the source of the odour at a large fan hung high up on the wall of the dome. It had taken him quite a while to reach the fan housing, as he’d had to find a way that didn’t include the use of ladders. He’d had to jump from the top of a ramp onto a building and then follow the ductwork over to another building where a ramp took him up to a higher catwalk.
He followed that catwalk for some way before jumping down onto more ductwork that eventually climbed its way up above the fan. The last jump was the toughest. The fan, although enormous, had only a small ledge next to the housing, and that ledge was directly underneath the duct Wotan stood upon.
Deep down in his visual cortex, synapses fired estimating the distance and trajectory. This information was transferred to his memory core and from there to the servos that controlled his legs. He jumped the twenty metres flawlessly, coming to a stop at the edge of the ledge.
Wotan turned and looked at the fan housing. He sniffed the air. The fresh scent didn’t come from the fan itself. It drifted out of a crack in the wall beside the housing. Wotan pawed at it and the resulting sound echoed slightly as if the space behind the wall was empty.
He had no room to make a running leap through the wall, as he had done at the house of the little yellow lady. Wotan had to rely on the strength of his jaws. He snapped his mouth forward, sinking his top row of metal teeth into the crack and then biting down with his lower teeth.
The wall felt oddly soft, more like plaster than stone or rock. He clamped his jaw down tight and pulled back, digging his claws into the ledge. As he pulled, his claws scraped against the ledge, leaving long furrows in the metal beneath him. At last, the wall panel began to give.
He repositioned his feet and pulled again. A low growl came from deep within him. As he tugged he walked backwards, whipping his head from side to side to rip open the plasteel panel set into the wall.
After several minutes, Wotan had ripped the panel far enough to squeeze through. He released his hold and crawled into the opening behind the panel. It was a long tunnel. The scent of fresh air was much stronger inside and he padded forward, confident that he would find Bobo and Jerico on the other side.
At the other end of the tunnel, Wotan found himself looking through a round grate down onto the plaza before the wall. This time he was on the Spire side. Even his mechanical brain could easily tell the difference. For one thing, there was only one guard and no throng of people trying to get through. For another, everything on this side gleamed. It was as if the entire world up here were made of silver, gold and polished marble, and that odd scent of fresh air was everywhere.
Wotan breathed it in and set his analyzers to work. He almost barked when the analysis finished. He smelled Jerico, and he was close. Wotan searched the plaza, but didn’t see his owner. In fact, there weren’t that many people in the plaza at all, just a single group of three heading past the wall down a side passage.
Wotan looked closer. The one in the middle was wearing a strange cloak that hid his body, but Wotan’s sharp eyes looked closer and saw just the hint of leather swishing around beneath the cloak. This time he did bark. A loud, tinny bark that sounded like two swords scraping against one another.
But Kal didn’t hear him. Wotan grabbed the grate in his teeth and pulled and twisted as before, whipping his head around and growling. Then, all at once, the entire grate came loose and fell towards the marble-covered plaza below, taking Wotan with it.
He landed on his front feet, smacking his head into the ground before his back feet hit. Disoriented, he spun around several times before he remembered which way Kal had gone. He ran off across the plaza, barking. He looked over at the lone guard by the wall, but the man didn’t seem at all interested in getting involved with the crazy metal dog.
Wotan ran past the wall and into the passage where Kal had gone, which was basically an alley between the wall and the first set of buildings. The alley curved slightly so he could no longer see Kal, but then he saw the other two men, alone, and continuing on down the narrow passage.
Wotan stopped and sniffed the air. He could still smell Jerico, but the scent came from behind him now. He backtracked until the newer scent ended, but there was no sign of Jerico. He looked around for a door or side passage, but there was nothing to be found.
Then he looked up. Above him Wotan saw another large, round grate like the one he’d just crashed through. He sniffed the air. Sure enough, Kal’s scent wafted down to him through the grating along with another, unmistakable odour – the acidic, stale, musky odour of Hive City.
Wotan sat down and howled.
6: NIGHT LIFE
The Kitty Club. Bobo walked through and marvelled at the sights, sounds, and smells. It was dark, but only in the Spire sense of the word. Thick velvet curtains and tapestries depicting the most interesting scenes of debauchery had been hung over the windows. Inside the club, candles and odd orbs of flowing, luminescent goo created pockets of light for those who wished to see or be seen.
A thick haze hung over the entire club, a mixture of conflicting perfumes and toxstick smoke. The resulting odour was oddly sweet with just a hint of spice. It was almost intoxicating and Bobo was glad his small stature kept his head out of the thick cloud. Underneath all this rich atmosphere of opulence was a beating pulse of music that seemed to drive forward with its own living rhythm. There was no band and Bobo was unsure where the music came from. It seemed to be everywhere and he could feel the beat of the music invading his body through the soles of his feet.
Through an open fold in one of the curtains, Bobo caught the lingering purple bands of the setting sun streaking through the cloud cover. He’d spent a full hour in his apartment just watching the sun set. It was the most amazing sight he’d ever witnessed and he couldn’t believe all these people were so jaded they could ignore that natural wonder.
For them, it happened every day; it wasn’t a once in a lifetime opportunity. They ignored the natural blessings that their charmed lives provided for them, like fresh air, clean water and plentiful, warm sunshine, and instead had to frequent places like the Kitty Club to feel alive.
A silk-skinned, blonde goddess walked by Bobo, arm-in-arm with some fat noble. The fresh, fruity scent of the gorgeous woman made Bobo smile and sigh, but the noble appeared bored and distracted. He stopped to talk to another noble, a skinny young kid of no more than twenty lounging on a plush couch with several scantily-clad women and a couple of his young cronies.
They argued about something while the girls just sat there, continuing to touch and caress the men. Two things struck Bobo about the scene. First, he knew he was being somewhat hypocritical of the Spire nobles. He too frequented places like this down in Hive City, but for him and the other hard-working men and women below the wall, it was a release from the hardship of their lives, not just another in a long string of decadent perversions to relieve the boredom of too much wealth. Maybe it wasn’t much of a distinction, but it somehow mattered to Bobo.
Second, he realized that just like in Hive City, the girls in the Kitty Club had access to a great wealth of information about the private lives of the nobles. As he noticed a slightly-built redhead with freckle-specked, pearly-white skin looking at him from one of the five bars in the club, Bobo decided he would need to spend a great deal of time exploring this bountiful source of information.
‘Hi,’ he said, climbing onto the stool next to the redhead. ‘My name’s Bristol. Jackal Bristol.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Someone wants to meet you.’ She reached out and caressed Bobo’s arm as she smiled a seductive, little smile at him. ‘Would you like to follow me?’
‘Anywhere and everywhere,’ said Bobo.
Her smile widened even further as she slipped off the bar stool and sauntered off. Bobo followed her, taking one last glance around to make sure he hadn’t been noticed or followed.
Captain Katerin punche
d his armoured fist through the top of the rubble, creating a hole big enough for some air to get through. He inhaled deeply and then coughed and spat up phlegm for several minutes as he cleared his lungs of masonry dust.
‘Mageson,’ he said and then repeated it through his comm-link. ‘Mageson. Are you okay?’
As the resulting silence stretched out, Katerin continued to extract himself from the rubble of the collapsed tunnel. After shoving both arms through the opening above him, he managed to move enough rocks and girders out of the way to create a large enough space to climb out.
He pulled himself to the top of the pile and switched on his arm beams to light the area. He stood atop a mound of stone, jagged metal, broken pipes, and beams. Part way down the pile to either side, he could just see the roof of the tunnel, which had been completely blocked by the mound. Above him was an empty space; probably an unused section of dome or, if he was lucky, a utility tunnel.
He scanned the rubble itself, looking for some sign of his companion. ‘Mageson!’ he called out again. ‘Report! Give me some sign, girl.’
In response, a laser beam cut through the rubble next to Katerin, nearly taking off his big toe.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ve got you.’ He dropped to his knees and began tossing chunks of debris off the pile, his hydraulic-powered muscles making quick work of the rubble piled on top of the young noble.
In a moment, he’d uncovered enough of Mageson to grab hold of her shoulders and pull her free. The resulting landslide of debris filling in the hole almost made both of them tumble down to the bottom of the pile.
‘What the scav was that?’ asked Mageson. She tested her wings, but only one opened to its full extent. The servos on the other had been damaged and Katerin could see blood trickling down her arm.
‘Somebody didn’t want us following that one-armed freak,’ said Katerin. ‘Brought the whole damn tunnel down on our heads just to stop us.’
‘Obviously,’ she said. ‘And that will be their last mistake.’ She slammed her fist into the palm of her other hand.
But Katerin saw Mageson grimace as she made the menacing move. ‘You’re heading back to the docks to see the medic,’ said Katerin. ‘I’ll find a way around this blockage and get a piece of whoever did this.’
Mageson shook her head. ‘I’m coming with you,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a stake in this, too.’ She looked down at the wound on her arm. ‘Some Underhive scum is going to pay for this.’
As much as Katerin wanted to let Mageson satisfy her bloodlust, he couldn’t afford to lead a wounded noble into battle. It was his head her parents would seek if anything serious happened to her.
‘You’re injured, Mageson, and your rig is damaged. You’ll just slow me down. Get back and take control of the docks.’
Mageson nodded finally and turned to scramble down the pile, blood trickling off her arm as she went. Katerin climbed down behind her and began opening a hole back into the tunnel. The rubble was pretty loose and he made good time. He hoped the blockage on the other end was as easy to get through. The gap between the top of the tunnel and the top of the pile had widened almost far enough for his spyrer rig to squeeze through when Katerin heard his comm crackle to life.
‘Captain Katerin,’ the voice said into his ear. ‘This is Lord Chamberlain Schemko. What is your status?’
‘Scavving bureaucrat,’ muttered Katerin before clicking on his link. ‘Nearly blown up, sir,’ he said. Before his superior could ask the resulting question, Katerin added, ‘We encountered a minor setback while pursuing the satchel, sir. Mageson and I are fine, but it will be some time before we are in pursuit again. Stein has the docks secured.’
‘Your orders have changed, Captain,’ said the Lord Chamberlain in his ear. ‘I am recalling your troops. Move your men back to the transport for a return trip to the Spire.’
‘But, sir,’ said Katerin. He turned towards Mageson and made an obscene gesture, indicating just what he thought of the Lord Chamberlain. ‘We are close. I know it. That’s why our pursuit was halted by such extreme measures. I just need a little more time. As you said, the fate of the house depends on this mission.’
‘You have your orders, captain,’ said the Lord Chamberlain. ‘Others will take up the chase. The martial law you imposed on the Hive City docks has stirred up a great deal of trouble and brought unwanted attention down upon this mission. I want your men off the docks within the hour. Do you hear me?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Katerin. His obscene gesture turned into an even more obscene salute.
‘I’m surprised,’ said Mageson. ‘I can’t believe you agreed to his orders so quickly.’
Katerin smiled at Mageson ‘Ah, but what did I agree to?’
‘Why, ending martial law and going back to the Spire.’
Katerin shook his head. ‘The good Lord Chamberlain never told me to return to the Spire. He only ordered my men to the transport for a return trip. And I plan to follow that order to the letter.’
He bent over and began moving rubble again. ‘Now, let’s get you out of here. I need you at the docks following my orders. I’ve got to see a man about a bomb.’
‘Excuse me?’
He crushed a piece of masonry in his armoured glove. ‘Nobody drops a tunnel on me and gets away with it.’
Peeking through the velvet curtain, Bobo found a small room with a private booth. As he pushed his way through, two large, bald men stepped up and frisked him roughly. Afterwards, they went through the curtain, but Bobo was certain they hadn’t gone far beyond that point.
The redhead slid into the booth and cosied up next to a white-haired man wearing what looked like red, silk pyjamas. Platinum and gold chains hung around his neck and he wore dark glasses, even though the only light in the booth came from one of those small globes with the luminescent goo hanging over the table.
Between the poor lighting and the glasses, Bobo could hardly make out the man’s features, but he was fairly certain this was the young Ko’Iron prince at the top of Kauderer’s hit parade. Either that or platinum white hair was the new rage for youth in the Spire.
The redhead caressed the prince’s silk-covered arms and whispered in his ear. He leaned over and gave her a long kiss, and Bobo could tell that the prince had great affection for the girl. All the while she kept her eyes open, watching Bobo. There was more to her than just a simple Kitty Club girl.
After the kiss, the prince turned and looked at Bobo who hadn’t moved since coming through the curtain. ‘Sit down, Mr Bristol,’ he said. ‘Let us talk business.’
Bobo slid into the booth opposite the prince and the redhead. ‘Call me Jackal,’ said Bobo. ‘I never talk business with strangers. And you are?’
The white-haired man smiled, showing a set of teeth that were easily as white as his hair. ‘Let’s just say that I’m the man who’s about to hire you,’ he said.
Bobo stood and put a hand on the velvet drapes. ‘Then let’s say this business meeting is over,’ he said, and pushed open the curtain.
Bobo wasn’t certain whether his gamble would work or not, but Jackal Bristol was supposed to be a bit of a hardass. Plus Bobo always felt better when he was in control of a situation instead of the other way around. As he pushed his way past the well-dressed muscle on the other side of the velvet, Bobo heard the glasses rattle and the table shake behind him. He turned to see the young noble standing on the cushion.
‘My name is Granit Ko’Iron,’ said the prince. The redhead smiled at Bobo as she dabbed at a stain on the young noble’s silk pyjama bottoms with a wet napkin. He slapped her hand away and sat down again. In an obvious attempt to regain his composure, he added, ‘You may call me “Prince”.’
‘Okay, Prince,’ said Bobo as he sat back down. ‘Now that pleasantries are over, who did you want eliminated? Got your eye on a promotion, have you?’
The Ko’Iron
prince laughed while the redhead shook her head.
‘Nothing so vulgar as that,’ said the prince. ‘We leave the killing to the lowlifes below the wall. They’re ever so good at it. I need a message delivered. That’s all.’
Bobo felt the conversation drifting out of his control. ‘Then why call on me?’ he asked. ‘I’m a specialist. Low profile eliminations for high profile clients. I’m no errand boy.’
‘The message I want delivered requires your special services,’ said the prince. The redhead handed him a packet. Bobo didn’t want to know where she’d kept it hidden. Well, actually, he did want to know, but didn’t feel it appropriate to ask. The prince slid the packet across the table.
‘Go ahead and open it,’ he said.
As the prince continued talking, Bobo looked through the contents. Inside were several picts of a high-ranking member of House Orlock, the Hive City family responsible for ninety percent of the refined iron ore produced in the hive. In addition, there were blueprints of some Spire estate and a passkey, along with five thousand guilder credits.
‘That is Davol Orlock,’ said the prince, indicating the picts. ‘His father has an exclusive contract for iron with House Greim.’ He pointed at the blueprints. ‘That is the Greim estate. The Ko’Iron family would like to break that contract and force our own deal on the Orlocks.’
‘So, I’m supposed to, what?’ asked Bobo. ‘Kill Davol and plant evidence in the Greim estate? And all that for a lousy five thousand creds?’
The prince laughed again, which made Bobo want to jump across the table and kill him. The mission, and the two bodyguards on the other side of the curtain, helped him retain his calm.
‘No, no,’ said the prince. ‘I want you to kill Davol and plant his head in the bed of princess Jillian Greim.’
‘Whatever,’ said Bobo, ‘I still don’t work this cheap.’ He almost had to swallow as he flipped the credits back across the table, as he’d never even seen that much money all in one stack before.
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