Beneath the Black Crescent: Atlas Cycle, #2

By Dustin Porta

The founding of the Arena Under the Hill marked the end of open warfare between the clans of Tokyo2. With peace came prosperity, and the city has grown into the largest metropolis on the space station Atlas.

Betrix Farmer gave up the Arena when she left for New Lexington. Now an unexpected debt, to an old enemy, will drive her back into the ring. The stakes are high, but success would mean a fresh start for this former champion and the boy in her care.

Betrix is not the only one returning to the dome. The reporter Kate roams the city stirring up trouble, and the twin brothers have settled on the outskirts, bringing troubles of their own. The man everyone's hunting, Julian Reeves, is no longer bound for Tokyo2, but the decision of where to go may not be his to make

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dustin Porta
• Release date: Jun 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386589785

Book preview

Beneath

the

Black

Crescent

(Atlas Cycle Book 2)

by

Dustin Porta

Kindle Edition

Copyright 2016 Dustin Porta

Cover by Domi @ inspiredcoverdesigns

Original font design by Duane Knight

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual persons or entities, living and/or dead, is entirely coincidental.

––––––––

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http://www.dustinporta.com

For Jenny.

Table of Contents

Prologue: The Brute

Home

Sebastian's Journey

The City and the Stars

Kuroi Mikadzuki

The Eye of the Loser

Son of Reeves

Familiarity

Signifier

Kate's Dream

Faruq Kai

Tires in Blood

Full Moon Empty Head

Three and Twenty

Orpah

Searching

Bivouac/Rashad

Sebastian's Ruse

The Fool's Eye

Exhumacius

Stove Soup

Hook Line Sinker

Friends Visit the Great Window

Tales of Distant Campaign

Kelvin

Binaural Beats

Palace Walk

Mizu's Challenger

Checking Boxes

Petra Demyanitch and the Gates Of Helikon

Alone Together

The Umm

Last Breath

The Smart Idea

Gesso

Jesus and Malena

The Low Road

Map and Pistol

House of Noodles

Cameron the Engineer

Change and Ingenuity

Interlude/Pipestaff Diplomacy

Tokyo2

Closed

Home Sweet Home

Petra #2

The High Road

A Love for the Epochs

A Cautious Reunion

Modern Inconvenience

Wild Geese Descending on a Sandbank

Oaths Made and Broken

Turnabout

This is the Fight

Mystery Loves Company

Inevitability

Prison Vessel/Denouement

Placard

Out-Hull

Shadows

Hollow

Epilogue: Double Ironed

Lost Transmissions:

Prologue: The Brute

Boto hauled his mother's body down the trash-cluttered stairs on the eastern edge of the hunting grounds. When he reached the fourth landing, where an eastward-leading tunnel intersected the stairwell, Boto paused.

Taking a hullmetal bar that rested against the door frame, he hammered on a pipe that ran the length of the hall, five beats followed by three longer knocks. He waited a moment then hammered again, the sound echoing into the distance.

Laying his mother on the landing, Boto checked one last time, holding a hand over her face to feel for breathing. He untied a pouch from her waist and rifled through it: a few scraps of food, her knife, some strips of fabric.

Hey you get up. He nudged her with the toe of his boot.

The clean, un-worn hunting boots had belonged to his barefooted father who had inherited them from his grandmother. They were never put on, always kept, for times of emergency. These were families who had hunted the hallways for generations. There wasn't a sharp corner they didn't know about, not a spike trap they hadn't set themselves.

Now the family had all but died out. Boto knew that things were changing, so he had put his few possessions into a satchel, laced the ancient boots onto his feet and struck out toward the eastern boundary of the hunting grounds.

Ma' get up you. He nudged her again.

One of the eyes was half-open. It seemed to look at him.

Ma' get up.

He kicked the body, but it didn't stir.

Shoving all of her things into his satchel, except for the knife, he pressed the point of it into her shoulder, lightly. Blood showed around the wound, but did not flow freely as it would if she were living.

Get up you. He jabbed the blade, poking up and down the arm.

*Clang—clang—clang,*

Three knocks rang out from the pipe, the sign of the cousins, very slowly, very distant. The person on the other end followed with five rapid beats, the signal of Boto's dwindling tribe. This let Boto know that someone was hunting nearby. They would avoid the stairwell until Boto was finished with it. It was probably the elder, only he would knock so slowly. The others liked their communications finished quickly.

Boto responded with one long sound followed by two short, signaling that he was only passing through.

The stairwell was the only place to get from the lower to the upper level and so the two families shared it. This system had been established long before Boto was born, to keep the families paths from crossing. There were other messages in the code, but the only ones Boto had ever needed were those about passing through.

The elder cousin hammered the same message back to him. It was safe to proceed. He hoisted the body onto his shoulder and continued down the stairwell until he reached the bottom.

There were others that lived here, who did not observe the family borders and who made their home in the hollow chambers of these lower floors. These others were best avoided and Boto's family had long ago stopped coming here. But Boto's family had died off, most of them killed by the soldiers. His mother and sister had been the last, and now his mother was dead, and his sister had run off with the people from the dome.

Now it was just Boto—and one more if he could find her. Boto's niece had disappeared a few days before the last hunt, but he had an idea where she might be.

The ones who lived down here were fond of his sister and niece. Sisa would leave the child with them when she tired of watching the girl. They would not want to see Boto, but he had brought them an offering. He kept the rod he had used to hammer out his message. He might need a weapon here.

The silos began at the bottom of the stairwell. A frightening, cavernous space crossed by a catwalk. The dim lights of the catwalk were not bright enough to see the bottom but every so often he caught the reflection of light upon water. The smell told him that it wasn't water below, but some sort of chemical.

Several hundred yards farther was a small doorway into another large chamber, then a second chamber, then another. Each was the same, quiet and empty except for the echoes of his own solemn footsteps on the catwalk.

Boto passed through twenty of these empty chambers along the suspended walkways. Finally the catwalk passed through a series of small silos. Thousands of pipes crossed above and below the walkway, yellow lights casting web-like shadows on the walls. After ten of these rooms he reached a place where the catwalk split in opposite directions. There were small platforms that jutted out from the walkway here, bearing broken control panels. More platforms were suspended above and below, mounted to the crossing pipes. He couldn't see the ones who lived here, but he smelled them.

Dirty footprints covered the grate, as well as bits of hair and scraps of bone.

Kokka. He sang his niece's name, Kokka, okay now.

Only echoes.

Okay now Kokka. Boto hammered on the railing with his bar. Hey Kokka. He grabbed a piece of bone and chucked it at the platforms below. Something shuffled.

Okay Kokka. Boto climbed onto the railing and reached up to hammer on the nearest pipe.

Kokka, Kokka. Boto hammered some more. He was becoming angry that no one answered.

Kokka, Kokka, Kokka!

A guttural screech resounded in the next room. He heard the clamor of something leaping from pipe to pipe then landing hard on the walkway. Above, more were stirring. The one that came through the doorway was the leader.

Boto walked up to the lead chimpanzee and smacked his heavy bar against the ground.

Kokka! He hammered again and waved his bar at the apes who watched from above. A few had come down already, landing on the railing behind him. The leader howled again and took a step toward Boto, looking him over. Another large male approached from behind.

Boto kept one eye on the leader and lashed at the other with the end of the bar, striking the chimpanzee in the stomach. It howled and ran at him but Boto struck again and it scampered back. Boto crouched low and snarled, holding the bar behind him, ready to shoot it forward. The leader moved back a half step, considering Boto's weapon, and Boto postured a half step forward. Then Boto caught a flash of movement and ducked, narrowly avoiding a chunk of bone that had been pitched from overhead.

Look! He took his mother's body from his shoulder and dumped it on the ground.

Dead! You see Kokka? What they did?

He rolled the body with his foot, pushing it in the direction of the lead chimpanzee.

Dead, he spoke to the chimpanzee, leaning over to draw his knife and jab it into the pallid flesh. The animal only stared at him. Boto grunted and bent over the corpse, hurriedly cutting a chunk from the muscle and holding it out to the chimpanzee. The ape scowled and sniffed at the offering. They preferred other foods before meats, and small game over large, human they liked least of all. But in these lean times, who could refuse?

All for you. No good for me, he spat and pushed the flesh in the chimpanzee's face. She's dead Kokka, no good for me, Kokka. Sisa's gone with those dome boys. Don't you want to go get her? Kokka? The girl was not here.

The lead chimpanzee took the muscle from Boto and bit into it.

Others had come down from their perches and were closing behind him.

They looked even hungrier, even more desperate.

More crowded on the platforms above. Some were carrying their young but there was no sign of little Kokka. Sisa must have hidden her daughter elsewhere, or the chimpanzees had tired of the girl and killed her. The lead chimpanzee took the body under one arm and jumped, grabbing the overhead pipe and climbing from one to the next, carrying the body until it reached the largest platform.

No Kokka, Boto said. No Kokka here. He could hear the chimpanzees on the platform tearing pieces from the body. Boto knew, from his own time with them, that the animals didn't enjoy human meat, but when food was scarce, anything was welcome. He was hungry too. It had been days since Boto, his mother, and sister had stopped hunting to follow the travelers, who had eventually killed his mother and stolen his sister away, but Boto couldn't bring himself to eat from her flesh, even wilds-folk had limits.

Just Boto. It's just me. He smacked the bar against the walkway, grinding his teeth and breathing erratically. The leader crept down from the platform and landed in front of him.

Sisa, he yelled out his sister's name, Sisa why did you go too? Why only me? He beat the bar against the railing and pounded the walkway with his fists. They had been a large family once, before the soldiers came and killed his brothers and sisters. They had killed his father long ago. Now it was just Boto.

The lead chimpanzee hooted a little.

Boto could scarcely remember how they talked to one another. He hadn't stayed with them since childhood. It wasn't the way humans talked. They knew through posture and sounds. It was a simple language, but more than what the cousins hammered on the pipes. He had known it when he was a child, when his mother would leave him with the apes to go hunting.

They killed her. He beat his fists on the catwalk. They took Sisa. His eyes met the eyes of the leader. Kokka is gone. I'm alone. I'm alone. He struck the railing with his arms until his flesh was bruised and his hands were bloody. He pointed and howled, paced and spat.

Maybe something of their unspoken language had become a part of him, because the chimpanzees seemed to understand. They howled along with him and beat their fists as he did. Their voices echoed in the silo, reaching an ear-shattering pitch. They felt his loss, and howled his anger.

The bond that young Boto had forged with this pack had been strained when he grew into a man, but it had not broken.

All at once, the chimpanzees rose from their hiding places, dropping to the platform and clustering around. A few were already leaving, dragging the body of Boto's mother behind.

So, he thought, we will go on one last hunt together. He looked to the pack leader. Excitement shone in the animals' eyes. They were with him. They were waiting.

***

Old Icor waited in the resting place where the long pipes crossed.

He had finished hunting for the day. A handful of finches were his quarry and he plucked these as he waited. It wasn't much but maybe his grandchildren had caught more. He wanted to get started on the trek home. The walking would be easy, but crawling through sewers and shimmying up air ducts was getting harder for the old wilds-man. He had meant to start early, but then he had heard the message, now it was his duty to wait for a response.

A younger man would have ignored this duty, but not Icor.

The old traditions were his link to the family that was gone. His children would understand one day, when he was gone also, then they would take the traditions seriously. If he couldn't leave, he would at least be getting some rest.

Icor lay on the pipe, wondering about the chimpanzees that lived in this place. They were thinking creatures, smarter it seemed, with every generation. This tribe had a poor leader, and lately they had been behaving just as badly as humans. More than once they had attacked old Icor for hunting in their territory.

Icor closed his eyes and remembered the old times, when food was plentiful and the chimpanzees would wander into camp to play with his daughter. They would share a meal, dance by the cookfire and rest soundly through the night, knowing that the tribe was looking over them.

Icor was he was awakened by the ringing: five rapid beats, the sign of the cousins, followed by three longer ones, his own family's sign. Icor groaned, sat up, pulled the hammer from his bag and responded with three long beats. He waited for the signal that the cousins had finished using the stairwell.

Instead there came the rapid hammering, more beats than he cared to count. He understood the meaning of the signal, but it had been so long since he had heard any message other than passing through that he questioned his own ears. He responded with a single hammerstrike, a question.

Again came the rapid hammering, faster and longer than before. It meant that the cousins would be crossing into Icor's territory. He responded with his family's sign again, three hammerstrikes, meaning understood. There was no signal for yes or no. The families warned one another out of courtesy, but they did not ask permission. The cousin answered with their own sign and the simple conversation ended.

Icor shoved the finches into his bag and hurried home. The cousins were passing through. He hoped that he could reach his family in time to warn them to stay out of the way until the cousins' hunt had ended.

***

Boto had always thought with the tip of his knife. This was why he had been mother's favorite, why he had outlived the rest of his tribe.

The corpse had been a smart offering.

These days, food was as scarce for chimpanzees as it was for wilds-folk. Now they would look to him for more, and he would lead them on the hunt.

How happy mother would be now, to see him leading his old friends on a new hunt, just like when he was little. With her flesh filling the bellies of the apes, it was like she was still with him, but this was different than the childhood hunts. It wasn't iguana and rats they were after. The city dwellers would pay for what they had done.

The young boy and the woman with the metal arms had killed his mother. He would kill the boy and take the woman for his own.

The strange brothers, whose bodies were joined together, had stolen his sister away. He would bring her back to the family grounds. He would cut the twins apart, so the smaller could watch the larger die, and leave the small one to be eaten by the station-rats.

It would not be easy. The small one was a user, and users could talk to Atlas. Users could open doors with their minds and see through cameras mounted in the ceiling, but doors could be propped open and cameras could be ripped from the walls. Boto knew little of users, but he knew how to kill one. The hunting ground could be made ready for one like him.

The woman with the metal arms was stronger than Boto, but larger prey only took bigger traps, and metal eyes and arms could be torn from a body as easily as doors and cameras could be ripped from the walls of Atlas.

Boto would find the people that had destroyed his family, and he would set things right. Maybe after this hunt ended, he would go to New Lexington and find the soldiers who had killed his father.

Boto was feeling better. With mother gone, Boto was the head of the family. With the apes in tow and his sharpest knives ready, Boto was eager for revenge, on those who had hurt his family, and any dome people he encountered along the way.

Home

The conjoined twins had never known another pair like themselves.

Walking through the village of migrants, they were reminded that many on the station had been born different. Many of the villagers shared the same cleft lip that Dade had been born with, others had his small, curved limbs. And seeing how these poor children struggled to move about, Dade was grateful to be stuck with his larger brother.

There was no dignity in being carried like a backpack, but as much as he struggled, their struggle was worse.

This was a new settlement, in the halls of the ring just outside the dome city Tokyo2. It was made up of people who had, for one reason or another left their villages in the rings, looking for a better life in Tokyo2.

The settlement hadn't been here when the twins had last passed through but the two boys, who had never fit in anywhere found the people especially welcoming. Dade waved and yelled good morning to the Nomura family, who returned his greeting with smiles and laughter. Passing the next doorway, he waved at the Matsuis. At the next intersection he greeted Suzu Rhineborn and her grandmother, Kameyo.

The old woman pinched his cheek and kissed the top of his head while little Suzu handed him a piece of soycorn biscuit, before they hurried off to their own quarters.

You're not allowed to eat that, his brother said, but Dade had already finished half the pastry. He offered the other half to Kelvin.

Kelvin had been the lucky one: an average boy more or less, with the notable exception of Dade whose underdeveloped body protruded from Kelvin's back. It was their habit to hide Dade underneath a blanket or inside a modified backpack. In many ways it was fortunate that Dade had remained so small, and was attached conveniently back-to-back, with his larger brother. Kelvin could move freely and if Dade kept quiet inside the false backpack, the two could travel without drawing too much attention.

The disguise helped Kelvin, but Dade resented having to stay hidden and the moment the brothers felt safe in a place, he would do something to make his presence known. Sometimes this ended in the twins being driven out. Other times, people were understanding.

But never had Dade been embraced as part of a community like they were here, in this colony of refugees just outside of the dome.

***

Kelvin had always wished for his brother to be happy and to find a home, but they had been driven out too many times to trust anything now.

Kelvin turned off the main hallway, toward apartments on the edge of the settlement. Dade protested. He wanted to visit the neighbors and socialize. But Kelvin was the one who did the walking.

There was a chance that he could be happy here, and he wasn't going to let Dade mess it up by getting too close with the locals. The twins had other, deeper secrets, that threatened their chance at happiness.

Sisa was one of these secrets. She and her family had stalked the twins halfway to Tokyo2. Sisa's people were first ring wilds-folk. They made their homes in the empty parts of the space station, trapping small creatures and ambushing travelers.

Kelvin didn't know why this woman had left her family to run away with him, but he didn't question it.

The girl liked him.

She looked at him in a way that no one had looked at him before.

She had seemed strange at first. She talked strangely, when she talked at all, and the brothers had to remind her to bathe sometimes. But wilds-folk weren't trusted in Tokyo2 and if the people here guessed her origins she would be chased out.

Her odd, bunt humor fit well with Dade, who was himself immature. That was not to say that Dade didn't get in the way. Kelvin didn't understand how she could simply ignore Dade during their intimate times. She'd learned to wait until the smaller brother was asleep, or pretending to sleep, to make romantic advances toward Kelvin. But when Dade would wake and catch them in a tender moment, Sisa would only laugh and tell him to hush. Kelvin was the one who had to push away, embarrassed for the both of them.

As Kelvin and Sisa grew closer, Dade was interrupting them less and less often. Perhaps he was becoming a sound sleeper, but more likely he got some kind of perverted pleasure from listening. Kelvin couldn't be too critical, it was the closest to being with a woman that Dade could hope for.

Sometimes the brothers would wake in the morning and find her gone. Sisa would disappear into the ring and not return for hours, sometimes days. She never gave a reason and these secrets were starting to bother Kelvin.

When Sisa wasn't gone she stayed in the room, content to sleep most of the time, choosing to wedge herself into the space between the mattress and the wall. Once Kelvin had found her sleeping inside the closet. Another time, he came home and found her under the bed. She had gathered all of their food there and had eaten it all. Nothing was wrong, she had said that she just liked it under there. She had no explanation for why she had eaten all of the food. Other times she wouldn't eat at all.

Kelvin wondered why she did certain things but the more he questioned, the less she spoke. There was no point in asking wilds-folk to explain themselves.

When they got home this time, Kelvin was surprised to find Sisa awake and sitting in the kitchen on the pile of blankets and pillows where the three did most of their eating, sleeping and lying around. She had been missing all of the day before, somewhere out in the ring. She looked at the brothers in surprise.

Oh, you. It was not often that something surprised Sisa. Somehow her keen hearing had missed them.

You're awake, Kelvin said, happy to see her up. It couldn't be healthy to sleep all day. I brought food. Kelvin grabbed a bag from Dade's hand and dumped it out on the blankets.

We brought biscuits, said Dade. He couldn't turn his head far enough to look over Kelvin's shoulder, but he waved his arms for Sisa. Dade was forever looking behind Kelvin. The two brothers could see each other's faces only in reflection.

Oh, biscuits, Sisa grabbed one and stuffed it into her mouth.

I spent the last of the money that Kate gave us. And she won't be back for a day or two so it'll have to last.

This is more than Boto would eat in ten days, she said, through the mouthful

Kelvin didn't like the mention of her brother,  who had tried to kill and kidnap he and his friends. He wondered if Sisa would have gone along with it had they not escaped.

Well, Kelvin said, I'm tired of going hungry.

I'm always hungry, said Dade. Dade wasn't supposed to eat. Because Kelvin could eat for the both of them and because trips to the latrine were complicated.

I don't get hungry, Sisa said, swallowing the last of the biscuit, sometimes lonely. She patted the cushion beside her.

Do you miss your family? Dade asked over Kelvin's shoulder. Kelvin usually turned to the side so Dade could be part of the conversation, but not around Sisa. It wasn't jealousy, he told himself, just annoyance.

I was lonely around them too, but not with you. She took Kelvin by the arm and pulled him down next to her, kissing him on his thinly bearded cheek. Even though she knew that it made Kelvin uncomfortable when they kissed while Dade was awake.

Then a voice came from the floor behind Sisa. Boys are you there? Boys? I'm starting to get worried. Kelvin recognized the voice that came through the speaker.

Is that my radio? Kelvin pushed Sisa aside to see what she was hiding. How did you make it work?

Sisa shrugged. The cabinet behind her was open and a bundle of live wires had been pulled from a loose wall-panel. Two of these wires had been cut and attached to the wires that stuck out from the back of the radio.

Kelvin hadn't known which wires to use until Ben taught him. How did Sisa figure it out? Wilds-people could be surprisingly clever.

You didn't talk into it did you? He picked it up and started to unhook the wires, but Sisa stopped him.

I was just listening. I was lonely.

Well you shouldn't take things that aren't yours.

Tell Ben hi! Dade said. Dade had been asking to radio Ben for a while now, but Kelvin wouldn't allow it.

I was just lonely, she said again, removing Kelvin's hands from the radio and holding them in her own.

You didn't talk to him? Kelvin asked again. You didn't press the talk button?

I was listening. It knows your names.

That's Ben. He gave us this radio. He has another that he uses to talk to us.

How do you talk back?

Ben wants us to leave. He says it's not safe around Tokyo2.

It's not safe? Sisa asked.

He doesn't know anything, said Kelvin.

Can we listen? she said.

There are other things to listen to, Kelvin said.

There are? she said. "What else does it do?'

It sings. Kelvin turned the dial and the static of the channel cut out, replaced by the timbre of hammered brass in the enthralling rhythm of ancient music.

An orchestral piece was playing. Kelvin had listened to the radio many times before and that was how the announcer had described it. Dade said an orchestra must be a very large instrument to make so many different noises and Kelvin agreed.

When the music finished, Kelvin switched the device off.

Can we keep listening? Sisa nuzzled under his arm. I like it.

Where have you been? You were gone again. Did you go to look for your brother?

She shook her head.

Your mother? You know they tried to kill us.

Sisa shook her head again. The last time they had seen the pair, Sisa's brother had wanted to cut the twins apart to see what would happen. Sisa had argued against it but ultimately it was the kickboxer, Betrix who had saved them. Then Betrix had stolen their friend Disnee, and Sisa had run away from her family to live with Kelvin.

Then what were you doing out there? Kelvin tried not to sound angry, but it was hard not to worry when she behaved so strangely. Kelvin knew if he pressed too hard she would get up and leave. He wouldn't see her again for the rest of the day.

For all he knew, she had been napping behind a service panel or hiding in a closet down the hall. She had done that kind of thing before. Kelvin hoped she was telling the truth about her family. All wilds-folk were suspect, but Sisa's family was especially dangerous.

If he learned that she was seeing them—Kelvin wasn't sure what he would do.

What would old Ben do? he wondered. Ben had taken the twins in when they were at their most desperate.

You know you're safe here, Kelvin said, with us.

Sisa nodded. I like being with you.

Why are you always disappearing?

Sisa shrugged again. Dade had been quiet for a while. He didn't like when Kelvin talked like this with Sisa. Kelvin thought it was because Dade hated all things serious. He didn't consider that Dade might be jealous.

Can we listen to the radio again? Dade said. Why can't we just listen to the radio all the time?

Because we don't want to break it.

It's not going to break just sitting there. Turn it on.

Turn it on, Sisa echoed.

Turn it on, Dade said. He and Sisa started to chant. Turn it on! Turn it on!

Okay, Kelvin said, one more song.

They listened while the music played. After the first song was a second. Then a third. The radio didn't break and Ben's voice never interrupted the channel. They lounged about and listened dreamily.

I don't want you going out there anymore, Kelvin said after they had been listening for a long while.

Out where? Sisa asked.

Away from here. The settlement, didn't have a name yet. Technically they were in the outer ring of the space station. Tokyo2 dome was attached just above their heads. Through the village down the hall, past a group of Emperor's Police, was a gate that led to a ramp, that spiraled upward and came out in the center of the domed city.

Their settlement didn't have any leaders and there were no proper boundaries, the people kept a loose watch and Emperor's Police occasionally patrolled the outskirts. Each month a new family would arrive from one of the farming communes or small towns in the first ring, a few even came out of the city to live out here. There was no sunlight or soil to grow food, but there was an abundance of unclaimed rooms. Space was becoming scarce in Tokyo2. All the large tracts being claimed by older, more established families.

But all trade had to pass through this settlement before reaching Tokyo2, so it was a good place for traders to unload surplus goods or for growers from the nearby pods to sell the last of their produce before heading home. Those who could afford it got the freshest produce in the morning, and those without money got a discount on the unsold, half spoiled goods in the evening. It was a fine place to be, though little separated it from the wilds.

Why can't I go out there? Sisa asked. Most people would have thought Sisa was arguing, but Kelvin believed that she just didn't understand. She was used to going where she pleased. No one had worried about her before or missed her when she was gone.

I worry when you disappear.

Disappear?

When you go out there and I don't know where you are. What if you got hurt?

But you go out, Sisa said.

We do go out, Dade added. He was not helping. But Kelvin was used to talking over him.

I meet with Kate and look for work. I bring you food. But I don't leave for days and days. I don't go out into the ring. I don't leave without telling you. Sometimes Dade makes us visit the neighbors, but it's not like I want to.

You go out, she said again, and I am lonely.

Well, I can't stay here all the time with you. Why don't you come with me when I go to market. Kelvin was contradicting himself now. They had tried bringing Sisa into the busier parts of the settlement, but she drew even more suspicious glances than Dade.

Too many people there. Sisa turned up the music and put her head next to the radio.

You'll get used to people, Dade chimed in, I had to get used to it when we lived inside the dome.

That's not what I'm talking about anyway, Kelvin said, I mean out there in the wilds. It's not safe there.

You don't know, Sisa said. Families here are quiet. They stay away. She was talking about people like herself, tribes of wilds-folk. The tribes around Tokyo2 were small and had made no trouble with the settlement.

Sisa's own family had been different. They had lived a few days outside of New Lexington and had been hunted close to extinction by the soldiery. The more they were persecuted, the more readily they preyed on travelers.

But here, the lives of the wilds-folk remained undisturbed. They would rob travelers if given the opportunity, but mostly stayed clear of other humans, eating rats, cats and finches that inhabited the hallways of the ring. They stuck to their predictable hunting patterns and didn't concern Sisa in the least.

It's not them I'm worried about, Kelvin said, it's you. What are you doing out there all alone? You don't need to go out there. What if something happened to you and I didn't hear from you again?

Sisa shrugged and moved closer to the radio.

Kelvin had never been with a woman before. He thought about putting his arm around Sisa, the way she did when she wanted to show that she cared for him. At least, he assumed that she cared for him. What did he know? Not much when it came to the wilds or to women. Kelvin couldn't be sure of anyone's feelings except for Dade's and his own.

He moved nearer to her and turned up the radio. The singer cooed, soft and peaceful, the words of an old, sad love song.

Sebastian's Journey

Wait, I would like to trade!

Sebastian chased after the boy, waving his Tokyo2 dollars in the air, but the terrified child would not stop. He tried yelling again in Tokyo2an and the Dutch-Russian language but the boy didn't react to these either.

Why is there no interest in trade in these parts? I pray you are leading me to a village so I might quench my thirst. Sebastian released the throttle of his cart and settled into a slower pace. It would be easier to follow this boy than to capture him.

It had been two weeks since Julian had abandoned him in the wilds and Sebastian had managed well enough for himself. There had been a few hiccups. One day he'd come upon an encouraging message scrawled on the wall—'This way to Tokyo2'—only to remember that he had carved it himself a few days earlier. Afterwards he had re-assessed the map, and added an arrow to his initial carving for future travelers.

That day had been lucky.

He had found a piece of meat by the side of the path, left behind by some predator. He'd built a fire and cooked the meat. It had tasted like station-rat. A large man like Sebastian could have gone for weeks without eating, but a healthy girth was to be maintained, not wasted away. Sebastian rather enjoyed the hundred pound advantage he had over most men, and meat was just the thing to keep his constitution up.

Sebastian had made expeditions like this one before, but always with a destination in mind, a large company of guides and pack carriers. They were constantly falling under ambush by bandits or packs of animals. Many did not return from these expeditions, but the rewards of uncovering ancient treasures had been well worth the risk.

Sebastian wished he would come across one of the paths marked by his old expedition team. He was confident he could find his own way then, but the second ring wilds were so large that the odds of him stumbling across a familiar marking were slim.

The expeditions had stopped calendars ago when the source of information became unreliable and profits shrank.

The old markings would be worn away by now and old traps would be reset by the wilds-folk. Sebastian had yet to encounter a trap and he hadn't seen any large animals since he and Julian had run into the mastiff dogs shortly after reaching the second ring. That meant this was a much safer route than his expedition team had taken.

This boy was the first human he had encountered since entering the second ring. The only real concern was a lack of water in this area. Perhaps the lack of water was the reason that this area was so safe, and free of predators.

The hallway here was straight, just as Julian's hand-drawn map had promised. Sooner or later, they would reach whatever town this boy had come from. He looked too clean to be a scavenger and so he must have come from a place where the people washed themselves, a place with water.

Run all you like my boy. I'll follow behind and when the intersection comes, you will show me which way to go.

But they had already reached the village. Ahead, the passage seemed to widen. The floor ahead dropped away and a metal bridge extended out over a room lit with bright, white lights. He saw the green of vegetable gardens.

If you insist on fleeing to your village boy, Sebastian yelled, do me the courtesy of informing your parents of my intentions. I would prefer to hire a guide but supplies will be sufficient.

The boy looked over his shoulder and was startled to see Sebastian keeping pace behind him. He ran even faster and when he reached the part of the hall where the plants were grown he began yelling.

Well at least I'll not arrive unannounced. Sebastian's cart entered onto a suspended walkway over a wide open chamber with a tall, curved ceiling that glowed soft blue and white. Shifting images of clouds, displayed overhead gave the illusion of being inside a very large dome city.

Hull's wonder, this is unusual.

On the floor of the chamber the plants were arranged in long rows of metal basins. A woman looked up from pouring water into one of the planters, saw Sebastian and dropped her pitcher.

She ran, disappearing behind a wall of foliage.

Sebastian noticed a pipe running alongside the walkway with a steady leak. He stopped his cart and stared at the leak.

He was very thirsty.

From the look of things there was much water to be had in this place. No doubt once he had befriended the locals, he would have all the water he could drink, and yet—he was so near. The boy was climbing down a ladder at the other end of the hangar.

No, Sebastian was in no hurry to climb ladders.

He dismounted from the cart and walked to the railing. The pipe was suspended several feet beyond the railing, with a drop of twenty feet below. He held his hand out but couldn't quite catch it. The drops of water fell and were caught in a large basin on the floor.

Sebastian looked around the space below. No sign of the boy or the woman he had seen a moment ago. It had been a week since he had filled his bottles, more than a day since the last drop of water was shaken from the bottom and touched his tongue. Damned Julian had sent him through a veritable desert, not that the fool had any concern for such things.

No, Julian was somewhere, no doubt in the nice part of the wilds, with storerooms full of ancient foodstuffs and all the water he could drink, cold and pure. He leaned over the railing again, the water splashing his fingers. He brought the fingers to his mouth but the droplets barely moistened his parched lips.

Torture. The theme of this Hull-forsaken journey.

Sebastian looked to the end of the walkway. Still no hosts coming his way.

He hoped that they would bring pitchers of water when they did. He thought to go search for them but, looking back at the dripping pipe, reasoned it was flowing at a steady enough rate to fill a cup. If he was to be involved in some prolonged welcome ceremony, it would be best if he slaked his thirst beforehand.

Sebastian went back to his cart and caressed the handlebars, admiring the logo—'Red Baron'—emblazoned across the side. The plastic bottles had openings too small to catch dripping water. He considered the plastic bin on the front of his scooter, but it was too large.

Finally he decided on the holster of his Samsony Palmlazr. He removed the weapon from his belt, putting it in the bin of the cart and took the holster, wiping the dust from inside with a corner of his shirt. The holster was closed at the bottom and formed a cup of sorts.

Now he had only to climb out far enough to reach the water.

Man was not meant to climb.

Carefully, after testing its strength, Sebastian climbed over the thin railing, and holding onto one of the walkway's vertical supports, reached out and held the holster under the dripping pipe. It was a slower leak than he had thought and the first time he brought the cup to his lips there was only enough water to splash his tongue.

Hull fail me for a drink. Sebastian eyed the basin below longingly. He could hear some commotion but the aisles of plants were empty and nobody had appeared on the walkway since the boy retreated down the ladder. He leaned out again, hoping to catch a swallow of water in the plastic holster.

No telling how long those welcoming ceremonies could last, he thought. Suppose they ask me to eat an especially dry piece of ceremonial bread, I would choke and embarrass myself in front of the entire tribe.

Sebastian longed for his old expedition team with their pack carriers. They had always brought plenty of water. A part of him wished he could simply leap into the basin. It was quite small and even if he didn't break his ankles something told him that would not sit well with the natives.

Then, just as the holster was full enough for a real drink, a spear flew past, striking the holster and tearing it from his hand.

What marksmanship! He looked down just in time to duck another spear, thrown by the same woman who had a minute ago been watering plants. It occurred to Sebastian that the first spear had been meant for his heart, but had missed its intended mark. Shameful, he said, considering his position in general.

Sebastian turned to haul himself inside of the railing before the woman could heft another spear, only to see the boy he had been chasing had made it back up the ladder and down the catwalk without him noticing.

By the time he realized that the boy was carrying a large scimitar blade, he was already swinging it, intent on taking off Sebastian's head.

And so Sebastian had his wish.

He let go of the railing a moment before the blade came down and fell backward, another spear glancing off of his rhinestone-armored jacket. Sebastian tumbled, catching a last glance at his shining red scooter before he landed in the shallow basin.

I may break my neck, but I shall not die thirsty.

He landed smack on his belly, the water breaking his fall.

Sebastian was on his feet in a flash. His guns were drawn before he even hit the water. A comfortable childhood and calendars of eating imported sugar and soycorn syrup had made Sebastian a large man, but his upbringing had also afforded him teachers who were masters of martial arts, marksmanship, wrestling and conditioning. A few hundred pounds of traveling weight did little to slow him down.

In his left hand, the Smith and Wesson .44 revolver, beloved of all weapons, only two bullets remaining. In his right, the .22 pistol picked up during the flight from New Lexington. He had a full magazine and a box of bullets in the Red Baron.

A wall of water had spilled from the basin and bowled over the woman. Sebastian stood ankle deep in what had, a moment ago, been a full basin of water. The revolver was aimed at the woman. He swung the pistol to face a man, who emerged from behind one of the planters carrying an armful of spears.

The woman gripped her weapon tightly, but seemed to hesitate. Sebastian wondered if these people understood firearms. The man didn't seem to. He made to throw another spear and Sebastian fired, missing on purpose.

The .22 echoed in the chamber. The man hesitated. The woman took a step back. Glancing skyward, he saw the boy winding up to throw his scimitar down. He fired quickly, hitting the boy in the arm. The man raised his spear and Sebastian turned the pistol on him again.

Sebastian had no desire to kill these people. Their spears had missed him. They were not fighters. He could hear others approaching from behind the planters.

He fired at the bundle of spears under the man's arm.

The man yelped, dropping the spears. Sebastian looked back to the boy. His sword had fallen off walkway, landing dangerously close to Sebastian. Now the boy was reaching into the Red Baron's storage bin, looking for something else to throw. Sebastian fired again, hitting the walkway, and the boy jumped and hid behind the cart.

The man dropped his last spear. The woman gripped hers intensely. She knew that she was in danger. She also knew that if she threw from this distance, she would hit her mark. Sebastian lowered his revolver and aimed the .22 at her instead.

I am here, to make a trade, and to take a drink of water. Sebastian could feel a warm liquid running down his forehead, he'd struck it on the edge of the basin. His limbs and stomach ached. His hands had hit bottom after his face struck the water. His feet had hit against the other side.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, shivering.

The woman scowled and gripped her spear, then her fierce look melted and she dropped her weapon and stood, shivering, clothing soaked from the great wave that Sebastian had made.

She moved toward the back of the warehouse, where more armed villagers were emerging from behind the growing beds of fuzzy-leafed bushes with red, ripe fruits. The others had heard the gunshots and saw their wet friend and her frightened companion. They didn't lower their spears, but they stood back speaking in low tones. Sebastian still couldn't make out the language.

Suddenly, one of the men surged forward and threw his spear, a second followed it. Sebastian dodged the first spear, fired, and killed the first man. The second spear caught him just behind the elbow, tearing his jacket and the skin beneath, but Sebastian was already numb from the cut in his head.

He gritted his teeth, shouting angrily and aiming his weapon at the second man. The second villager dropped his spears, seemingly confused at how such a small weapon could kill from so far away. Others backed away. The low muttering recommenced.

Someone knelt over the dead man crying.

Sebastian stepped out of the water, and sat on the edge of the basin. He tucked the Smith and Wesson into his belt, but kept the .22 in hand. Above, the boy hadn't run, but was sitting on the walkway, nursing his wounded arm.

Sebastian watched the villagers, ignoring the blood from his forehead, feeling remarkably well from the sudden rush of adrenaline, feeling dangerous, feeling awful about the hurt he had caused by rolling into this village.

Out of the corner of his eye he spied the holster to the Samsony Palmlazr floating in the basin. He snatched it up and filled it, taking a long, cautious drink of the cold water. He longed to stick his head in the basin but that would mean taking his eyes off of the villagers, who were still glaring, standing in their little groups across the clearing. He wished the crying would stop.

Sebastian regretted killing without cause, he typically reserved his munitions for those who, at least in some small way, deserved it. These people were simple farmers, lacking in hospitality, and used to defending themselves against roving animals and scavenging wilds-folk. They had no concept of friendly visitors.

It would only be a matter of time before the armies of New Lexington reached deeper into the second ring and colonized this place. If their campaign was anything like the one waged by Dutch-Russia, it would be a prolonged and bloody engagement. And Tokyo2, being in the middle, would receive another flood of refugees.

Perhaps it is better that I arrive now, to give these people a taste of the bitterness that is to come. Or perhaps, my assassination of the General Hewlett of New Lexington will precipitate change and they will see the error in their ways and stop stirring up trouble outside of their own city. It certainly wasn't my intention when I accepted the mission. Lexington's violence in the second ring is hardly my concern, but it does ease my conscience to think that some good could have come from killing the man.

Sebastian imagined that Julian would have some cynical objection to that logic, but Julian was a fool who had given into his base nature and disappeared into the dark maze of the wilds,  abandoning Sebastian for dead. If he survived this journey and made it back to Tokyo2, he would be sure to pin the murder on Julian. It would be both convenient and satisfying to make Julian the scapegoat.

No, I won't be spending any more time in this Hull cursed place than necessary, he grumbled to himself, tearing a scrap of fabric from his shirt and pressing it to the cut in his forehead. He would have to throw this outfit away when he reached Tokyo2. It still smelled like the cat he had killed in Istanbul Connector, and Sebastian, being a repentant killer of large cats, had no business wearing such an outfit.

He would keep the rhinestone jacket he'd picked up from Julian. It did not fit well, but would serve as a fine trophy and reminder of his travels. It had once belonged to a king after all.

The group of locals thinned out, some leaving the room, others merely hiding behind the greenery, still clutching their weapons. Surely they would try and sneak around behind him. Sebastian had been hoping that he could rest here. No such luck.

So much for the ceremonial welcome.

Sebastian had wished for a bath and had gotten one, along with a splitting headache. In retrospect a loaf of stale bread would not have been so bad. He took another drink of water and tucked the holster into his belt.

Necessary killing. To impale a thirsty man—they could have run me off peacefully. You, move aside! Sebastian waved his gun at the nearest group. He got to his feet and stumbled toward them, urging them out of his path with flourishes of the pistol.

A villager bent to retrieve her spears from the ground and Sebastian pulled the trigger again, hoping to wound her in the hand. This time nothing happened. No gunshot, no shell casing. The woman grabbed her bundle of spears, seeing surprise on Sebastian's face, her throwing hand wrapped around one, separating it from the bundle. Sebastian racked the chamber, ejecting the old, failed bullet, he pulled the trigger again, the pistol fired and the woman fell. Sebastian scanned the room. The villagers were hiding behind the scattered planters. The boy on the catwalk was still holding his wound. The pistol was empty, but they didn't know that. The woman on the floor was dead.

Cautiously, he made it to the ladder, stopping along the way to pick some of the soft, red fruit from the leafy vines. When he reached the ladder he stuffed these into the torn lining of his jacket and one into his mouth. He kept the gun in hand and climbed up to the catwalk, the aged ladder shuddering and flaking rust.

When he got to the top the boy was digging in the bin of the Baron again.

Hey, stop that! He still didn't know what language these people spoke.

He reached the cart just as the boy got a hold of his Palmlazr. The boy didn't know how to