He couldn’t believe he had come so close. Keraunos was in his hands. Hēi Gēzi was in his sights, and Ursza would either come with him or be dead in a day. He didn’t enjoy that last idea, but he decided he could live with a successful mission. Now, he had to make other arrangements. The air taxi had dropped him off on the edge of a large canal that ran through the center of the metroplex, and the driver explained that flying any closer to his destination was far too dangerous. With apologies, he still took the full fare before pointing Clay in the direction he wanted to go and wished him luck.
“Newsflash for you, Clay,” Ness said in his ear. “Jade Shield lieutenant Markus Klien was hospitalized after his unconscious body was found along with 18 murdered members of his household staff last night. As there were no signs of a robbery, authorities assumed this was a contract kill put out by a rival faction, possibly in retaliation for the murder of Sem Talbot earlier that morning. They’ve listed a minor operative for Cerberus as a person of interest.”
“Prevo and/or Mother Eye manipulating facts again. Why? To start a war between the crime families? To take some heat off me so I can get Keraunos for them? Maybe your crazy planet is finally coming around to my side.” He wondered briefly if Prudence and Annah were among the dead, hoped they were still in the dormitory building, but forced himself to accept that it didn’t matter to the mission either way.
“Just wait, you’re about to visit the garden spot.”
“You’re sure this is the right place? It looks more like an abandoned war zone than part of the metroplex.”
“That’s the outskirts. You’ll see it once you get over the ridge. You’re sure you want to do this? Harba City isn’t exactly friendly to off-worlders.”
“Not a lot of choice. Right now, Hēi Gēzi has Keraunos. Ursza’s the one who can lead me to him. Unless you know more than you’re telling me.”
Ness shook her head. “I know as much as anyone, which is almost nothing. To my knowledge, nobody knows who he is, where he learned his trade, or even what he looks like. He’s never worked for, or taken a commission directly from, any of the factions. He only works through a handler.”
“So, he has inside knowledge, possibly even marketable intel, on the players he’s done jobs for, but all they can do is trust in his discretion. If he were to sell one of them out, they’d never be able to find him unless he wanted them to.”
“They could potentially get to him through Venter, the way you think you’re going to, and with Shard about to go off the market.” She stopped for a moment and thought the scenario through. “Oh, you naughty boy.”
Clay smiled. “With Shard in short supply, anyone with a decent stash can command her loyalty, an hopefully his. Anyone who doesn’t has good reason to keep him quiet.”
“It’s still no guarantee she’s going to trust you.”
“True. She got a fix at the hostel the other day, so there are sources other than Talbot, even if it’s just a temporary stockpile. You’re sure there isn’t another manufacturer out there?”
“If there is, they’ve kept quiet about it. I’m sure the major factions have something stashed as a contingency against something happening to Talbot. It’s always been in short supply though, so there can’t be much out there.”
“Well, in that case, at least I won’t have the unpleasant task of killing her.”
“I don’t believe for a minute you’re going to kill that girl, and I know you don’t believe me when I say she isn’t worth saving. She’s going to make a sap out of you again before this is over. She was bad news before she became an addict. Now, she’s just pathetic.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind, but I still think you’re wrong.” Clay climbed a three-meter pile of smashed plascrete up to the collapsed platform of a wrecked transit stop that would typically be at least three stories above street level. In the distance, across a wasteland of crumbled buildings and wrecked machinery, were three square blocks of makeshift structures piled 75 meters high and so close together that they appeared to be one giant structure. It reminded Clay of the historical records of the late 20th and early 21st century Brazilian favelas, only stacked upward instead of sprawling outward.
“That’s Harba City,” Ness explained. “Venter was running a straight line for it when I tracked her the other day. You remember, before I had to break off for a rescue mission on the other side of the metroplex?”
“Talbot said she lives there. It adds up.”
“Fit’s her profile, too. Nearly a hundred thousand people live there, and half of them are on the run from something. It’s a great place to disappear. Cerberus closely administers it, along with an anti-government faction called ‘Eyes of Baal.’ The government and local security won’t go there, so the families keep things relatively orderly, if completely lawless.”
Clay started down the far side of the rubble pile. He took note of the vidcams the local authorities would have on alert looking for him and pulled his hat low. In the distance, he heard gunfire, explosions, and screams of rage, fear, and agony. It reminded him of the dock riots on Thurin decades ago, which he’d had a small hand in fueling as part of a Directorate plan to undermine competition in the system. “You said, ‘relatively orderly.’“
He could picture Ness Grinning. “That’s just local street gangs defending their territories in the wastelands. They run drugs for the more minor factions and make the government generally look ineffective in exchange for improvised explosives and low-powered ballistic guns. Stay out of the crossfire and try not to look scary; you’ll probably be okay.”
Clay checked the load in his sidearm and shoved it back in his shoulder holster. Then, he patted the inside of his jacket, carrying the remains of his arsenal from the previous night. Two stuncaps, two smokers, a large stash of credslips, and one vial of Shard with hypogun. It may not have been wise to carry Shard around openly like this, Ness had argued, but Clay decided he needed a peace offering to convince at least Ursza to trust him.
Clay nodded. “How do you find anything in a place like that?”
“Find an information broker and tell him what you’re looking for. They have a network that runs all through that place. Just knock over the first slimy rock you find,” Ness said. “Watch your back when you do it, though.”
“If all goes well, I’ll return here when I’m done. If it doesn’t, I’ll signal you for a more improvisational exit.” He pulled his coat tight around him when he reached the bottom of the pile and started towards the massive structures.
Clay crouched as he darted across an abandoned stretch of flat ground, coming to a sizeable plascrete wall, three meters high, stretched along one side of Harba City. It was crumbling in places, making it relatively easy to scale, if necessary. Sliding gateways of corrugated metal provided more conventional entrances every few hundred meters. He quickly realized these were not fortifications for defense but merely ways to delineate anarchy from order.
He gave one of the gates a gentle tug to open it and stepped inside. The counterweight on the gate caused it to slide gently back into position. He was in a small courtyard with three narrow hallways leading deeper into the structures. It took him a minute to register that these hallways were formerly alleys between buildings and that he was standing in the middle of what used to be a street.
The map overlay on his ocular implant showed multiple maze-like routes through makeshift structures bolted onto older, pre-existing ones. It was no wonder neither the local government nor city law enforcement wanted anything to do with this place. There were no defendable routes where invaders could get a foothold and hold it, and none of those routes were more than a meter across, making heavy arms or vehicles impossible to move. Still, he had seen this before on a dozen worlds, almost always with the same results. Eventually, this city would become a big enough problem – through crime, violence, political inconvenience, or just urban expansion – that the government would have to move in and take it down in one swift action, practically overnight.
He picked the passageway that seemed to run the furthest, nearly to the open park area in that quarter of the city. Along the way, he passed several small alleys and chambers. Most were living quarters, though he did spot shops, clinics, temples, and even cafes randomly dotted amongst them. There was no urban planning or organization of any sort. It seemed people just picked any available spot and established their trade there. Desperately needing information, he stepped into a café, which was nothing more than a three-meter-square room with three tables adjacent to a makeshift kitchen, where a surprisingly pleasant aroma of spiced meat emanated. A kindly woman, who appeared to be well over a century old, though probably only half that in reality, set a plate containing flatbread, beans, and some kind of meat in front of him along with metal cutlery. He gingerly sampled everything, most of which he found palatable, and none of his enhanced biodefenses tripped.
He smiled at the woman in appreciation and placed a credslip on the table. She began to protest when he held up a hand to stop her. “I’m looking for an information broker,” he said as matter-of-factly as he could manage.
“Broker? Well, that depends on the information you’re looking for.”
“I’m trying to find someone.” He tried to sound non-threatening, then added, “I need their help.”
“Someone who lives here?”
“That’s what I’ve been led to believe.”
“You want Dex, then. He knows where everyone is.”
“Dex,” Clay repeated.
She pointed down the corridor outside. “Avenue A to the park, immediately turn left. When you hit the park’s edge, turn right, second street.”
“Thank you,” Clay said. The woman did not smile but scooped up the credslip and examined it to ensure it was real.
The temperature dropped rapidly as he walked, and the corridor opened into a large park area in the middle of the city with a view of the sky above. Clay had seen four of these from the air as they approached. To his surprise, it appeared to be used strictly as a recreational area rather than farmland. As he looked up, he noted various fruits and vegetables being grown on hydroponic shelves on the balconies all along the park’s perimeter, making the entire view seem lusher and more picturesque than it was.
He turned and walked next to the structures along the garden’s edge until he reached the corner. Then, as instructed, he turned right and walked to the second street. This part of the city didn’t look much different from the part he had just left, and he was instantly thankful he had his map overlay lest he become lost entirely.
This quarter seemed much livelier than the others. Some people even smiled at him as they passed in the corridor. Finally, he decided he was never going to find Dex on his own.
“Excuse me,” he said to a passing man. “I’m looking for Dex.”
Without saying anything, the man nodded and gestured for Clay to follow. He led him through several adjoining rooms; all seemed to be small, one-room apartments. Clay apologized to each of the occupants as he passed through. After several turns down narrow corridors, they came to a room tucked neatly underneath a stairway, giving it a long, sloped ceiling. It contained just a desk and chair, and its walls were lined floor to ceiling with books. A man sat at the desk, apparently reading. The escort pointed to the man and then returned the way he came.
“You’re looking for me?” the man asked. He was in his early thirties, dressed in a brown leather tunic, and had a curious piece of cybernetic hardware affixed to his shaved head. The look was completed by a pair of round, oversized spectacles with reflective lenses, which Clay assumed to be an old-style terminal display.
“That depends. Are you Dex?”
“I’m a dex, yes.” The man smiled. “Name’s Ren. Ren Sato.” He stood up, pulled a threadbare blanket aside, and ushered Clay into the next room. It was larger than the previous one. The walls were lined with old two-dimensional photographs and pictures. A worn cot was in one corner, and a large terminal looked very out of place sitting in the other.
Ren made his way to the far side of the room by the terminal, retrieved a canister from a shelf, shook it—revealing the distinct clang of credslips—and placed it on the desk. He then walked around and sat behind the terminal, smiling warmly. “How can I help you today?”
“I need a job done, and I’d like it done by a specific group of people living here in Harba City.”
“Gotcha,” Ren said non-committedly, holding up a hand to stop Clay from going further, and began extracting a cable from the console.
Clay shook his head, confused. “Can you help or not?”
“Don’t know,” Ren shrugged.
Clay smiled and threw a few credslips in the canister. “How about now?”
“Still don’t know.” Ren shrugged and continued unraveling the cable. “But thank you for that.”
“I don’t understand. I was told you could help me.”
Ren arched an eyebrow. “I’m a scrub, boss.” He seemed to laugh when he said it and pointed to the cybernetic device attached to his head.
“I thought you were a dex.” Clay was beginning to lose his patience.
“Most of the best dexes are scrubs. Give me just a minute.” He connected the cable to a neural jack behind his left ear, removed his glasses, and powered up the terminal. Instantly, he closed his eyes and smiled broadly as if a wave of pure pleasure had washed over him.
“Okay, here we go. You have a job and want to hire someone in the city. So, what’s the job?”
“I don’t think you need to know that. That’s between me and them.”
“Boss, you don’t know what I need to know. I don’t even know what I need to know. That’s why you have to tell me what the job is.”
“I’ll tell you about the job if you assure me you can find a woman named Ursza Venter and a man named Hēi Gēzi.”
“Of course, I can find them.”
“You weren’t so sure a minute ago.”
“No, I wasn’t sure I could help you a minute ago. I’m still not sure.”
“You’re intentionally being cryptic, now.”
“Sorry, boss. Love to take the piss out of visitors, I guess. We’ll start over. I will help you, but I need to know what your business is.”
“I assure you, if you’re protecting them, I mean them no harm.”
“There are twenty sensors on you right now, boss, and you just lit up with lies. Are these bad people?”
“You tell me. You’re hooked into that machine. Can’t you pull up everything about them?”
Ren smiled and nodded. “One man’s evil … is another man’s most pious day.” He arched an eyebrow. “You aren’t exactly a saint yourself, Mr. Clay, Sol Directorate Division 5.” He quickly began reading the information on the screen in front of him. “Wow. This is exciting.”
Clay, amazed at how fast Ren had pulled his cover and hacked Division’s systems, kept his expression neutral. “So, what is this? Some kind of judgment day? Only the worthy shall pass? Are you to be judge and jury?”
“No, nothing so grandiose, Mr. Clay. I’m just a scrub trying to keep himself sane when he wakes up and has to live with himself tomorrow.” Ren tapped the implant on his head again and looked at Clay expectantly. “So yes, I know what they are and what you are, and now I just need to know your business.”
Suddenly, Clay began to understand. “That’s a neural leucotome attached to your frontal cortex, right?”
“Now you get it.”
“As soon as you disconnect from that terminal, it erases all your memory of what you did while you were connected.”
“Wouldn’t last long in this business if I knew too much now, would I?”
“The ultimate in privacy. I’d heard about such things decades ago but never dreamed they were still in practice.”
“Well, hey, I never thought I’d meet a secret agent from the Sol Directorate either, so let’s just get to business, and you tell me what the business is.”
“One question,” Clay said, holding up a finger. “Why do you care what my business is if you’re just going to forget in a few moments.”
“Because a man can’t pray for forgiveness if he doesn’t know he’s sinned against his fellow man. Therefore, I long ago promised my sleeping self that I turn down the job if I’m asked to betray anyone or do anything evil. This way, I know my honor is still intact when I wake up. Well, aside from some rigidly defined gray areas where I will sometimes operate. So, one last time, what’s your business with the girl and the ninja? They’re bad people. You gonna kill them?”
“I’ve been asked to,” Clay said. “As you say, they’re bad people.”
“I don’t know. They’ve never done me harm. They haven’t broken any laws in the city that I know of. Maybe they did evil things for one of their faction friends, but as I said, one man’s evil. You’ve probably killed more people than they have.”
“Fine,” Clay said. “Forget about Hēi Gēzi. Let’s stick with the girl. She’s in trouble. She’s addicted to Shard and probably starting to crash. The problem is, her regular supplier is dead, so right now, I’m the only person on this planet who can give her that next fix and keep her alive.”
“And you’re gonna use this fix to get what you want out of her, aren’t you, boss,” Ren clicked his tongue. “I know you’re speaking truth, and I know if I help you, you’ll use her to get to the ninja. I also know she’ll die if I don’t help you. This is creating a huge moral dilemma for me.”
“You and me both. This planet is insane. Why don’t you comfort yourself knowing that the girl is smart? When she finds out I have Shard, she’ll likely send the ninja to kill me for it long before I can harm either of them.”
“There’s still a stain on your soul, even if you took a risk getting it. A few bruises and scary nights don’t absolve you.” Ren closed his eyes and lowered his head. Clay couldn’t tell if it was concentration or prayer. When he opened them again, he seemed at peace for the first time since they met. “I suppose I’ll just have to have a little faith in people to do the right thing.”
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