Extensis Vitae: City of Sarx

by Gregory Mattix

  “Of course,” Reznik replied.

  After Keeva stepped out, Reznik and Rin finished their drinks and decided to explore the small town a bit to look for supplies.

  ***

  As Reznik had feared, the beat-up slaver truck died about two hours into their trip. The vehicle gave a strange wheeze of protest as he drove up a steep grade, and when he crested the broken road, it suddenly gave out. Reznik popped the hood, but the engine looked to be electric, not internal combustion, and was obviously beyond his skill level to fix.

  “Any idea what’s wrong with it?” he asked Rin as Keeva backed up her truck toward them.

  Rin stood on tiptoe and peered under the hood. She studied a black box ribbed with heat sinks approximately the size of a large car battery. After a moment, she shook her head. “The fuel cell indicator shows it still has half a tank of hydrogen. Not a clue what could be wrong—something electrical, most likely.”

  “She finally gave out on ya, huh?” Keeva walked up and stood beside them with hands on hips, looking at the engine bay. Once Reznik had dropped Abby’s name as their bona fides, Keeva acted quite friendly toward him and Rin. “I’ll see if one of the guys can tow it back to base—might be just a burned-out capacitor in the electric motor. Easy fix if that’s the case. Come on, hop in mine. If you want, throw your bike in the back.”

  Neither the bandit truck nor Keeva’s were outfitted with a magnetic coupler as the slaver truck had been. Reznik heaved on the hoverbike and dragged it to the edge of the bed. Rin offered to help, but he declined, figuring his skin’s augmentations should be able to cope with the weight of the bike. Wrapping his arms around it in a bear hug, he hauled the bike out of the back and up to Keeva’s truck. The vehicle had to weigh over four hundred pounds, but Reznik was able to handle it with ease. Keeva helped him tie the hoverbike down with a sturdy cargo strap she supplied.

  Keeva’s truck inspired envy—Reznik was reminded of the Unimog-style truck he’d had to abandon in the exclusion zone after its electrical system was destroyed during the battle with the mutants. Her truck was very similar, with the same boulder-crawling suspension, lift kit, and large knobby tires. The major difference was it was smaller, holding only two rows of seating and an empty bed instead of a gun mount.

  “I like your truck,” Reznik remarked. “I had one like this with a .50 cal mounted on the back, but it got torn up pretty bad during the fight with the mutants. We had to abandon it in the exclusion zone.”

  “Aw, that sucks, man. Wish I had a machine gun mounted on this thing, but all the heavy caliber guns get prioritized for the fighters,” Keeva said. “Yeah, these Crawlers are the best rigs for traveling the wasteland, in my opinion.”

  They chatted for a while and then drove in silence. A short time later, a recognizable landmark appeared over the horizon. A ridged, tooth-shaped mass of stone thrust out of the surrounding land.

  “Devils Tower,” Reznik said in surprise. “Is that where we’re going?”

  “That’s our destination,” Keeva confirmed with a smile. “Some private investor bought up the land when the federal government collapsed decades ago. I guess his plan was to set it up as a survival bunker, but that only got halfway finished. He got around to digging out a nice cavern beneath the big rock and had the structural reinforcements set up but then ran out of funding for it and wasn’t able to finish the project. The cavern apparently sat there for years until the guy died back before the Cataclysm. The land was still fenced off when my father found it years ago. He drove out a gang of bandits that was squatting there, and it’s been his ever since. When he became involved with the resistance, they set up shop, and it’s worked out pretty well.”

  “How do you keep your enemies from finding this place?” Rin spoke up for the first time from the back seat. Her turquoise eyes were fixed on the imposing sight ahead of them. “I’d imagine once Thorne’s drones spot you, they’d love to drop a few bunker busters in there.”

  “You’re right. We have to be very careful about keeping the entrances concealed. We’ve acquired some pretty powerful gear that jams transponders and GPS units. Anti-aircraft guns are mounted up top as well. If there is an attack, we have escape routes and a fallback position at an alternate site as a last resort. Seems to have worked so far though, so let’s hope our luck holds.”

  The truck bounced and shook as Keeva turned off the broken road circling the landmark. They sped down a rough dirt road, their driver obviously quite familiar with the terrain, as her breakneck pace left little room for error.

  “You might want to close your eyes,” she announced with a mischievous look as they rounded a sharp bend and shot directly toward a stone cliff wall at around 45 miles per hour. Reznik reached for his seat belt and instinctively braced himself for the impending collision. The rock wall raced toward them, and Keeva eased on the brake at the last moment, but it was much too late.

  The front of the truck simply passed through the cliff wall with a slight blur, and then they were in a well-lit tunnel. Reznik let out his held breath and relaxed. He noticed Keeva was grinning at him.

  “I love doing that to people,” she laughed. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

  “Shit,” Reznik said. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  Keeva laughed again, and they slowed before entering a massive cavern that looked much like an aircraft hangar. The rebels had the cavern set up as their motor pool, and Keeva pulled up along the wall and killed the engine. A large congregation of people farther down the hangar barely noticed their arrival.

  As they got out, a couple mechanics waved and called out their greetings. They were clambering around a couple of rugged trucks, one of which looked armor plated. They eyed Reznik and Rin curiously but seemed used to seeing strangers and new recruits brought in.

  “Hey, Ted! What’s going on?” called Keeva.

  A man with a ponytail and a grease smear on his forehead looked up from where he sat working under the wheel well of the armored truck. “Oh, hey, Keev. They just got back about a half hour ago. I guess the supply caravan raid went pretty well.”

  “Well that’s good to hear! If you guys get a chance, there’s a truck broken down just after the turnoff to 14. If you would be a sweetheart and tow it back here, you’d be my best friend.” Keeva flirted with the mechanic, obviously used to getting her way.

  “Yeah, no problem, hon, unless your old man has different plans for us. I’m almost afraid to see what they broke this time out.”

  Keeva smiled at Ted and turned back to Reznik and Rin. “Let’s go find my father, shall we?”

  ***

  “Keeva, honey, who are these folks?” The question was voiced with a thick Scottish burr. The speaker was a large man with a shock of red hair and an impressive, bushy beard. He appeared to be in his fifties and looked hard and weathered like old oak. The man was obviously still in good shape, and his blue eyes sparkled in his lined face. He had just stepped out of the base command center, frowning at a tablet computer.

  “Father, these are my new friends, Reznik and Rin. Abby sent them our way,” Keeva answered, and gave her father an embrace.

  “I’m Royce McLaughlan,” the big man announced. His large paw engulfed Reznik’s hand as they all shook hands. “Red Royce, as everyone calls me,” he added with a chuckle. “Welcome to our humble home. It’s not exactly five-star accommodations, but it works,” he said with an expansive gesture at the swarm of activity around them. Perhaps four dozen people went about their activities in the large hangar. Reznik watched as a group of rebels swarmed over what looked like a bread truck loaded with crates of supplies. The mood seemed jubilant as men and women bantered and congratulated each other.

  Seeing Reznik’s curious glance, Royce explained, “Successful raid on a Thorne supply shipment to one of their outposts. This stuff will keep us in business for a month.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Reznik replied politely. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of
bad tidings regarding your niece.”

  “Aye, Keeva gave me a brief heads-up. Poor little darlin’ Abby,” he said sadly. “I bloody wish we had better capabilities—we could’ve been there to help out Planter’s Ridge.”

  “I keep telling you that we need to get the network up and running and get the people of the wasteland on our side,” Keeva interjected.

  Royce looked distressed, as if listening to an old argument for the nth time. “Darlin’, we can talk about that later. I’m sure our guests don’t want to get bored with talk of tactics right now. I’d like to get the full story of what happened at Planter’s Ridge… if Mr. Reznik and Ms. Rin don’t mind.”

  “Just Reznik and Rin, please,” Reznik responded automatically. “That’s no problem. I’d actually like to discuss some common interests afterward if it isn’t too much. I think we could help each other out to some degree.”

  Royce and Keeva led them to a cluttered space that had become a makeshift conference room. The rebel leader swept a mess of maps and documents over to one side of the table and pulled over a couple chairs. Keeva started a pot of coffee on a beat-up coffee maker.

  A minute later, the coffee was ready, and they sat down around the table. “Please tell me what happened to my niece, and kindly don’t leave anything out,” Royce said.

  So Reznik told the grim tale, with Rin occasionally offering her input.

  Chapter 3

  “You were saying about the slave trade?” the Overseer asked. He cut a strip off his bloody steak and shoved it into his mouth with some slices of sautéed onions, savoring the salty goodness of the juicy, natural beef. He couldn’t stand processed meat, and although the real stuff was a luxury item, the Overseer spared no expense when it came to satisfying his desires.

  His dinner companion neatly cut a small cube off his well-done steak and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm… very tasty, I must say,” the prim man replied when he finished chewing. Hubert Berenger was an unofficial ambassador from Thorne Industries, and the Overseer couldn’t say that he cared for the man very much. He was a nuisance and a reminder that the Overseer’s fragile grip over Skin City was supplemented by the might of the Thorne garrison in the city.

  The Overseer ruled through fear and commanded respect, but he was loved by no one. He knew Lady Angelis, Boschwain, Rembrandt, and the others would love for him to stumble and be taken down so one of them could seize control over the city and go to war with his or her rivals. Only the ruthless hold of the Overseer, backed by the Thorne garrison, kept the fragile peace. As long as the slave flow and revenue from the pleasure houses and gambling dens remained strong, they weren’t as interested in fighting amongst themselves or trying to push him out.

  “Ah, yes,” Hubert Berenger continued, interrupting the Overseer’s thoughts. “I was saying that the projected numbers for the next quarter are not very encouraging.” The ambassador sipped at his Chardonnay, swishing it in his mouth, which the Overseer found annoying. He suspected the man must have gained such an important position by being an ass kisser.

  “Well, that’s unavoidable, considering the dismantling of Pokornoy’s operation,” the Overseer said with some irritation. He dabbed a big chunk of potato in the au jus and chewed it slowly as he considered his reply. Pissing off Thorne could significantly shorten his tenure in control of the city. “Right now, we are in the black thanks to the large haul my brother’s gang brought in. The other groups are right on schedule to make their quotas, and I’m sure some enterprising individual will step up and take over the gap in coverage.” On the inside, the Overseer had seethed when he heard of the major fuck up that had led to Pokornoy and his crew getting crushed. The worst thing was that the individuals apparently responsible were the same as who had been behind his brother’s death as well. Those two won’t last long. The reward just posted a few days ago… just need to give it time. Nonetheless, he was tempted to take some men and hunt the two down himself since they were getting to be a royal pain in the ass. With the vastness of the wasteland, he had no idea where to look, though.

  “On the surface, it would seem the numbers are ripe, but when you look at the underside, you can find the rot growing. With the elimination of your brother’s crew and now this Pokornoy, there could very well be a shortage of slaves into next year.” Berenger swished some more wine in his mouth as he considered the Overseer. “We both know this is about more than just quotas for slaves: Mr. Thorne likes stability, and it’s quite possible that once your rivals catch wind of this, local politics are apt to stir up into a frenzy once again. What is your plan to ensure this doesn’t happen?”

  The Overseer nearly choked on his steak. You little fucking prick. I’d love to stab you in the eye with this steak knife. Aloud, he said, “I’ve got this under control. Let’s not jump to any conclusions here.” He loosened his tie a little. The climate-controlled 75 degrees was starting to feel uncomfortably warm. “We will wait and see what happens, and then we can react appropriately. Like I said, the market will adjust accordingly, and I’m sure there are some entrepreneuring individuals ready to step up to the plate. Any chance of getting more drone coverage over the wasteland? If we had access and were able to monitor these types of situations when they flare up, it would be easier to deal with them. Can you make that happen?”

  Berenger chewed carefully on another piece of steak as he considered. “I will consider putting in a request, but I think your focus should remain on Skin City. The management of wasteland affairs isn’t your concern.” He finished his glass of chardonnay and then frowned. “Let’s meet again next week, and hopefully you’ll have a more encouraging report.” The ambassador dabbed his chin with the thick cloth napkin and slid his chair back. His bodyguards moved forward to escort him out. “Good day, Overseer,” Berenger said as he left.

  “Take care, Ambassador,” the Overseer replied, standing politely as the Thorne politician departed. He was already thinking of possible ways the ambassador might have a tragic “accident.”

  ***

  “I like this plan of yours. So far, we’ve been caught up in the short-term victories and not looking at the long-term picture.” Royce reclined in his worn executive chair, hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. Reznik liked the rebel commander—he was a blunt old soldier who cared about his men and made sure he had a plan before he sent anyone into harm’s way. That was the type of rebel leader he could relate to.

  After a moment, Royce fixed Rin with a questioning look. “Can you bring Shiru to the negotiating table? I don’t have any trust for the megacorporations, but I don’t have any particular issues with Shiru either. The prospect of sharing intel and mission coordination is appealing, I must admit.”

  “I might be able to secure resources as well—arms and money, I think, would be ideal, wouldn’t they?” When Royce and Keeva both nodded, she continued. “I can’t make any guarantees at this point until I speak with my brother, but I’m confident some assistance can be provided. There’s an obstacle that prevents Shiru from taking direct action against Thorne, so as long as my brother has some cover with your rebels taking the visible role, he may agree.”

  Royce nodded again. “My main problem besides resources is recruiting. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, most are pretty green and lack the discipline to make decent soldiers. We are working on that.”

  “Like Keeva suggested, I think your best strategy would be to get that network up and running and gain the goodwill of the wasteland settlers,” Reznik said. “If you have the manpower to set up small garrisons in some of the larger towns, that will give them a sense of security against the slavers and gangs out there. Pretty soon, recruits will start trickling in, and once you’ve got a steady flow of men and resources…”

  “We can win some battles, morale increases, word will spread, and more recruits start lining up,” Royce finished. “Easier said than done, but that will get us on solid footing.” He grinned as if he could see the new recruits already
pouring in the door.

  “I told you you’d want to talk to these two,” Keeva interjected. She smiled at the two of them, but Reznik noticed her eyes lingered on him.

  “Indeed, my dear. You’ve got a sound mind for these things, Reznik. Were you a military officer?”

  “Oh no, not me,” Reznik said with a chuckle. “I was just a trigger puller—Special Ops, Delta to be more precise. But that was a long time ago.”

  “I’ve heard of Delta,” Royce said. “They were the USA’s version of the SAS, weren’t they? Back when there still was the original America. Weren’t they responsible for blowing up the Iranians’ nuclear weapons depot right under their noses?”

  “Really? Nice… that must have happened after my time though,” Reznik replied.

  “From what I remember, the crazy bastards snuck in there under the Iranians’ noses during a massive cyberattack that blacked out the entire country. They took out a whole battalion of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, deactivated the nukes, and blew up the whole depot. With conventional explosives, of course. That eventually led to the fall of the whole regime. Now that was a mission worthy of bragging about, I reckon. I can admire that commander—whoever made the call on that strike had some big brass balls.” Royce boomed his laughter, and Reznik found himself joining in.

  “No shit? Damn, wish I was still around when that happened.” Silence stretched for a moment where an unasked question lingered as father and daughter eyed him curiously. “Where the hell were you during that time?” That’s what they’re wondering. “What about you?” he asked to break the silence. “I can tell you’ve got some military experience also.”

  Royce laughed. “I suppose if you want to call it that. I was a young supply lieutenant with the Coretech Mining Company’s security forces back in ’74.” He pronounced it lef-tenant. “We were operating under a joint operation with the Thorne Expeditionary Force in Africa. Orders were to secure a lutetium mine that the local banana republic regime had been stonewalling production on. The mineral markets were in an uproar due to this being one of the few viable mines left in the world, so the corporate powers-that-be ordered troops to go in there and forcibly take control. Well, we got in there and found out the locals had stopped production due to the mine containing a radioactive isotope that was causing radiation sickness throughout the local workforce. They started using rad suits of course, once they found out, but it was too late. We’re talking men, women, and children—anyone over the age of ten was basically sent to the mine to work. Understandably, the local government stopped production and made demands for safer working conditions and stationed troops there to secure it. Thorne obviously wasn’t happy with this development, so in we went under a joint operation.”