Undercity Read online

  Watching Braze lose money had grown boring, so I left the Black Mark and went in search of the soup kitchen. Dig claimed the police ran this place, looking to lure in drug punkers so they could arrest them. I had no idea if that were actually true, but it didn’t sound far-fetched. Even if the people here had no ulterior motives, my people would assume they did.

  When I touched a panel by the entrance, the tall door swung inward. I walked into a large room, more of a hall, really. Tables were scattered to my right with a few game slates on them, and bedrolls lay piled against the wall. On my left, counters stretched out cafeteria style. Most were empty, but one had fresh vegetables on ice and hot food steaming in a few slots. Several rows of waters bottles stood on another counter. This was all free? Someone needed to kick some sense into the undercity. Charity or not, this looked worthwhile.

  Then again, if my people did come here in any numbers, these supplies would go fast. A kitchen with free food wasn’t a real solution. The undercity didn’t want to be supported, the people wanted to make their own way, and Cries couldn’t afford to support them even if we had been willing to accept charity.

  Three people were sitting at table by the back wall, playing a board game. One of them looked up, a woman with yellow hair, a bit unusual in Cries where most everyone was dark, but not unheard of. She looked young, with a pleasant face and kind eyes. When she caught sight of me, she rose to her feet and headed over.

  She smiled as she came up to me. “My greetings. Can I help you?”

  “Who are you?” I asked. No, that was too blunt. I added, “Hello.”

  If she was offended, she gave no hint. “I’m Tanzia Harjan. Call me Tanzia, please.” Her gaze took in my clothes, the high-quality cloth and expensive boots. “If you’re looking for a place to eat, the Concourse has many good restaurants. You can get some pamphlets from the visitors center.”

  Good gods. She thought I was a tourist. “I’m not looking for a place to eat.” I motioned at the room around us. “Do they come here?”

  “Who?”

  “Dust gangs. Cyber-riders. Punkers.”

  She hesitated. “You mean people from the undercity?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Almost never.” Dryly she said, “The younger ones raid us every now and then. They steal food and water.”

  It didn’t surprise me. I would have done the same if I was hungry. “They don’t want charity.”

  She spoke carefully. “Ma’am, are you in the military?”

  “How did you know?”

  “The way you hold yourself.” She went on as if she were plunging ahead and hoping she didn’t offend me. “You dress well but you talk like you’re from the aqueducts.”

  Huh. I hadn’t realized my accent showed even when I wasn’t using dialect. And she said aqueducts, not slums. Point in her favor.

  “Actually,” I said, “I have a question for you.”

  “Yes?”

  “If I bring some people here from below, can you give them a meal?” None of them would go to an office in Cries for Kyle testing, but a few might come here. “Just once, no strings attached.”

  “Of course. That’s why we’re here.” She hesitated. “But how will you get them to come? We’ve been trying for two years with almost no success, except for the raids.”

  “They won’t accept charity,” I said. “It needs to be an exchange. You do something for them, they do something for you.”

  Her forehead furrowed. “For us? What do you mean?”

  “For ISC, actually. The army wants to test them.”

  She scowled at me, the same kind of look I had given Cries authorities more than a few times in my youth. “Test them for what?”

  “Psi,” I said.

  Confusion replaced her suspicion. “You mean tests to find empaths? In the canals?”

  “Yah,” I said. “In the canals.” She didn’t have to act so surprised.

  “I’ll check with my boss,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure it would be fine.”

  “Who is your boss?”

  “Second Level Gratar.”

  Second Level. It sounded like a rank in the Imperial Relief Allocation Services, a civilian group run by the government. “Are you IRAS?”

  “Not me,” she said. “I’m just a volunteer. But the IRAS set up this place.”

  “Ah.” That made sense. They did a lot of charitable work.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Bhaajan.”

  She waited. Then she said, “You’re in the military?”

  “No.” Hearing how abrupt that sounded, I added, “I was. Army.” I shifted my weight, uncomfortable with the questions. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Of course.” She hesitated. “Can you really bring people from the aqueducts here?”

  She looked as skeptical as I felt. Probably she thought I was some deluded good-doer who wandered in off the street. Who knew, maybe she was right. “I have no idea,” I admitted. I thought of Braze gambling down in Jak’s casino. “I have to go.”

  “Thank you for coming in.” She seemed at a loss as to what to make of me. I didn’t blame her. I felt the same way.

  I left the Concourse Center and headed back to the aqueducts.

  * * *

  A ganger intercepted me before I reached the Black Mark. I was striding along the midwalk when she slipped out of the wall a few steps ahead. She was a dust knight, about fourteen, slender and long-legged, the girl who had struck me as a leader. I saw the signs of the future in her gaze, a sharp intelligence, her awareness of everything around her, and a kindness she probably tried to hide as a gang member. I had also noticed her because she stood with the Oey cyber-rider. I wasn’t sure if he had adopted her name or he had adopted hers, but judged from what I had seen of them, it wouldn’t be long before they shared more than a symbol. Gangers usually stayed with gangers, like Jak and me, and riders stayed with riders, but tradition rarely survived against the stronger force of love. Who knew, maybe they were setting a precedent, the first leaders in the knights, forging a new path for the undercity. Or maybe I was a deluded dreamer. But what the hell. I liked her.

  “Heya,” I said, slowing down.

  “Got a message for you,” she told me. “From Jak.”

  “Is Braze done for the night?” I asked.

  “Yah, done. She’s getting ready to leave.”

  We set off for the casino, jogging together along the midwalk. In places where it narrowed, she dropped behind me. In my youth, I wouldn’t have let someone follow where I couldn’t see them, but with all the sensors in my biomech, it made no difference; I knew what she was doing regardless of where she ran. In any case, I doubted she would attack. It wasn’t only my intuition about her, though that played a big part in my decision to trust her. When the knights asked me to train them, they acknowledged me as one of their circle. It was an odd choice, given that I no longer lived here. I wouldn’t have trusted an outsider. Then again, if I had thought someone could teach me tykado, I might have been willing to accept them on a limited basis.

  As we descended into the deeper levels, we lost the spillover of light from the lampposts in the upper canals. I switched on my stylus and the sphere of light moved with us as we ran.

  My companion kept up well, not at all out of breath. So I said, “Bhaaj” and hit the heel of my hand against my abdomen. “Bhaajan.”

  She nodded to me. After a moment, she repeated my gesture. “Pat Sandjan.”

  So. Daughter of the sand. It was an act of trust for her to say her name; we never revealed them to outsiders. She hesitated before she said Sandjan, which made me think it was a nickname. Maybe someday she would tell me if she had inherited a second name. I used only Bhaajan because I knew nothing about my parents or true kin. I’d never chosen a nickname, why I wasn’t sure; maybe because I wanted to be someone’s daughter even if I knew nothing else about the woman who died giving me birth.

  Pat and I weren’t alone. I c
aught rustles from the other side of the wall, hints of other runners. Every now and then I glimpsed one down in the canal or across on the other midwalk. They were training with us. We used to do that, me, Jak, Dig, and Gourd, jogging together. We hadn’t thought anything about it; we just liked to run. It was what gangs did. It wasn’t until I started winning marathons in the army that I realized what all that dashing about had done for me.

  So we continued, our feet pounding the ground. We soon turned into a narrow tunnel. A few more turns and we reached the Black Mark. Pat went ahead, around a corner of the building, which was a hexagon tonight. I wondered how Jak always managed to fold up and hide an entire building so fast. One of these days, I’d convince him to let me help so I could see how he achieved that feat.

  I stopped in front of the casino’s wall and peered at the points of light glittering within the black surface. They went too deep. The effect had to be holographic; those walls couldn’t really be several meters thick.

  “Heya, Bhaaj,” a man said, his voice like whiskey.

  I looked up to see Jak a few paces away. Pat had disappeared.

  “Heya,” I said. “Is Braze done?”

  “Yah.” He scowled. “She lost big.”

  “I thought you liked it when people lost big.”

  He shifted his feet like a runner impatient to take off. “Says she can’t pay.”

  I walked with him around the building, squeezing between the walls and the surrounding rock formations. A few meters ahead, a horizontal line of light appeared in the darkness.

  “Your casino has a leak,” I said.

  “It’s the VIP exit.” Jak stopped behind a rock column. “Private like.”

  Private, as in an exit for ISC officers who could be court-martialed if they were caught gambling. I joined him behind the column and switched off my stylus. The darkness became complete except for that glimmering line. With no other light here, it seemed as bright as a sun.

  Jak’s breath whispered across the nape of my neck. “Quiet here.” His sensuous drawl wound around me. “Got ideas for the dark.”

  So did I, but this wasn’t the time. “Got rocks for a brain,” I muttered.

  Jak laughed softly. “Need to get back inside. Braze’ll be out soon.”

  I touched his hand where it rested on my shoulder. “See you.”

  “Yah,” he murmured.

  I didn’t hear him leave, but I felt his departure as if it were loss of air behind me.

  Up ahead, the line of light widened. A woman’s gruff laugh scraped the night. “Andorian ale, Jak. Pure Andorian. Twenty cases. It’s yours.”

  Jak’s voice rumbled. “Might cover tonight’s debt.” He sounded good-natured, but I knew him too well to be fooled. He was pissed. He didn’t want her ale, he wanted her credits. Even so. He served Andorian ale in his casino, and it didn’t come cheap. Braze’s offer might be worth what she lost. Which begged the question, why did an ISC officer have twenty crates of exorbitantly priced ale lying around, available to sell on the black market? You had to import it from offworld.

  The line of light widened more, becoming an exit. Jak and Braze stood in the archway, their bodies silhouetted against the sparkling blackness beyond, where pinpoint holos glittered in the dark. Braze sounded drunk and horny. “You come with me,” she said in a slurred voice. “C’mon, Jakie boy.” She put her hand on the crouch of his pants. “You got it, hmm?”

  I gritted my teeth, wondering how it would feel to break her oversized nose with my fist. Crunch. Yah, that would be good.

  Jak deftly moved away her hand. “See you, Braze. My people will pick up the crates in the morning.”

  “Usual place,” she mumbled.

  “Yah.” Jak stepped back into the casino. “The usual.” He closed up the entrance, and the archway disappeared like a camera shutter snapping closed.

  “Heh,” Braze stood alone in the dark. In my IR vision, she was a hazy red glow.

  Max, I thought. Stealth mode on my boots.

  Done, Max thought. He sent commands to my ankle sockets, which connected to nanites in my boots. They would tweak the molecular structure of my footwear, softening or deforming the boots as needed to make my footfalls silent.

  A glow formed around Braze, coming from a hand lamp. She set off in the direction opposite from where I stood. I waited a moment and then followed, silent and hidden.

  Braze took a route with no obvious path, making her way between columns and walls riddled with holes. She was a large woman, most of that muscle. Probably she thought she was walking quietly, but to my augmented ears, she sounded like a herd of ruzik, the giant animals ridden by the Abaj Tacalique. Whatever race had stranded my ancestors on Raylicon had also bioengineered the ruzik using the DNA of several Earth species, including an animal called T-rex that died off eons ago. Apparently enough of its DNA survived to make new animals. So I prowled after Braze the T-rex.

  I expected her either to go home, which meant I had wasted my time, or to meet her contacts in the Maze. She did neither. Instead she kept descending, deeper than smugglers usually ventured. They needed access to the surface to move their products, and we were below the canals now, in tunnels cool enough that my vision showed only the dimmest red. The aqueducts were warmer because they were closer to the surface; the cold here usually kept me from coming this deep.

  Another light appeared ahead. I stepped behind a tall outcropping and watched Braze approach the light, her body a bulky silhouette against its glow. She stopped and spoke, her voice barely audible.

  Max, crank up my hearing, I thought.

  Done.

  “Twenty-five crates,” Braze was saying. “And they better all be Andorian. I’ll know if it’s cheaper shit.”

  “Andorian ale?” a woman demanded. Her voice sounded like rusty hinges creaking on an antique door. “That wasn’t in our bargain.”

  I knew that voice. But from where? It tugged my memory. I couldn’t risk creeping any closer to see better. If either of she or Braze carried biomech in their bodies, they might hear.

  “If you want the guns,” Braze said, “then get me the ale.”

  “Fuck this,” the other woman said.

  “Fine,” Braze told her. “I’m gone.” She turned and headed in my direction.

  I stayed hidden.

  “Wait,” the other woman said.

  Braze paused, then slowly turned. “What?”

  “Fifteen crates.”

  “I don’t have time for this crap.” Braze told her.

  “Fifteen is better than none.”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “Twenty.”

  “Done,” Braze said. “Plus a hundred thousand for the carbines.”

  So Braze was selling weapons. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who wanted them. Yah, I recognized that rusty voice. Hammer Vakaar was hulking there in the shadows. She’d beaten the blazes out of me when we were kids, and in revenge, Dig had pummeled her into a pulp. Only she could best Hammer. The rancor between them had multiplied over the years, until gods only knew how much they hated each other now. If Hammer was buying carbines, that meant both cartels were armed with the best ISC had to offer, or the worst depending on your view. The war had just ramped up into disaster.

  Braze and Vakaar talked a few more moments, working out where they would make their deliveries. I knew the place; it was near the Maze. Vakaar obviously intended to make a preemptive strike against the Kajadas, who had no idea their targets had turned the tables. Braze wrested a guarantee from Hammer that no fighting would begin until she left the undercity. After that all bets were off. Damn! That left me less than one hour to get out the warning. I couldn’t turn off my jammer to comm anyone, not yet. The moment I lost my shroud, Hammer’s spy tech would pick me up, and then I was dead.

  As Braze and her contact parted ways, I caught a better glimpse of the other woman. Yah, that was Hammer, with her thick, short neck and large head. I froze, not even breathing.

 
When they were both gone, I took off.

  * * *

  The aqueducts passed in a blur as I ran. Other runners went with me, some visible, some not, but none could keep up with my enhanced speed. They were doing relays, sprinting hard for as long as they could, then passing the job to someone fresh.

  I headed for the cavern where I had trained the dust knights earlier today. It was empty when I arrived. I slung off my pack, tore it open, and switched off the jammer. The moment I dropped my shroud, I became visible to everyone, including Chief Takkar. It was a risk, but I had no choice, and I was close enough to the surface now to set up a direct link. Takkar was my contact, but I had no time to deal with her. I thumbed my gauntlet comm and paged Lavinda Majda.

  No answer.

  Max, I thought. Do I have the right link for Colonel Majda?

  It is one she used with you, he answered. I don’t know if—

  A familiar voice crackled from my comm. “Majda here.”

  “Colonel, this is Major Bhaajan.” As I spoke, two dust knights dropped from the ceiling to the floor. I continued talking. “An illegal transfer of ISC guns is taking place right now in the aqueducts. When it finishes, Vakaar is going to attack Kajada. Both cartels are armed with tanglers and laser carbines.”

  Pat Sandjan and the Oey cyber-rider strode into the cave, breathing heavily from running. I nodded to them as I spoke to Lavinda. “We need your help,” I told the colonel. “But not in the fighting. We need soldiers to protect our people.”

  Lavinda didn’t miss a beat. “Major, if a battle is about to start under Cries, you damn well better bet I’m sending in soldiers to fight.”

  More of the knights were slipping into the cave, stepping out from behind rock formations or dropping from the ceiling. They stood watching me, the stranger in their midst doing the impossible, speaking directly to a Majda colonel.

  “If you send troops against the cartels,” I told her, “you’ll have a bloodbath. Only one thing could make the cartels join forces when they’re bent on annihilating each other. That’s a common enemy. You. They won’t care who gets in the way. If your people kill even one of the drug punkers, it will be even worse. The fighting will explode onto the Concourse, even above ground. Innocent people will die. Many of them. Families.” I looked around at the knights. “Children.”