Infestation Part 1

Chapter 1

Angela located the man she wanted exactly where she expected to find him. In a speakeasy in the converted room of a neglected building in the north-east perimeter. North East Point Private Members Club. Angela wasn't a member, but she had little trouble talking her way past the sentries. She had a smooth enough tongue when the need arose and a desire to get out of the alley and inside had provided just enough pressure to set her mind to work.

The entire outer ring was ragged, and had been since the last incursion. Most of the inhabitants were laborers and drones and were left to themselves in normal times and only bothered when Center wished to make its presence felt. Since the Peacekeepers had been pulled back from the edge, Ring Seven had once again been infested with the silent neglect that had so long troubled it. The occasional broken bottle or graffiti tag would be jarring, and maybe frightening to the caged songbirds closer to Center – Angela found the ramshackle streets far less dangerous than some places where she had been forced to wander.

But when wandering the wastelands, she had always been well armed.

In the dome, inhabitants with minds which had been touched by the moon often found themselves pushed to the edge of the city. Rangers and other unfortunates who were driven mad by the things they saw. They hid in the gutters around the edge and did their best not to get flushed out. If they couldn't hold on? Then they were ejected out into the void. If they didn't manage to drown themselves with illegal hooch first. Angela passed a few of these sad cases and kept walking. No point in getting involved.

Angela took a surface road into the NE Point. The skyway ended service

A drunk stumbled out of the door and then stopped, facing her way. “Hey there Horse face! You lookin' for a good fuck?” He laughed and thrust his pelvis a couple times. Angela ignored the man, mostly, and kept walking. He called after her for a half block before giving up the ghost. Responding wasn't worth while, the man was too drunk for a good verbal beating, and the physical thrashing that might follow if he weren't so drunk after all.

Angela checked herself. Even after years of abuse, and with a belly full of the local vine, ex-rangers could be deadly fighters. Years of training for expeditions into the void left them dangerous with their hands and feet. If things got too hairy with a rogue, Angela had the knife strapped to her thigh under her skirt.

Flashing steel to stop a rape could be more trouble than it was worth.

Life inside was always so much more complicated. Violence was rare on the inside, even in the roughest parts of the city. She had not seen a murder or heard of rape until she had taken up her trade and left the dome.

“Athena my comrade! Fancy seeing the likes of you in these parts!” Rex said, pushing himself away from his table and onto his feet. Angela shook his hand. His grip was firm, but not overwhelming, it told volumes about the man behind it. The two mercenaries were about the same height, though Rex seemed larger by two fold. Maybe it was that he didn't carry himself like a mere mutt. Rex was a wolf and he seemed to loom. His face was battered and scarred from years of hard use. The worst of which had ended his ability to grow hair on his face. His nose leaned slightly to the left and he was missing his left ear. His right ear had been crushed and malformed. Another reminder of his hard youth.

But his two blues eyes were still sharp and clear. His short cropped hair was prematurely gray, as Rex was only a handful of years older than she. He had an air of danger that certain types of women lusted after, despite his frightening visage – or likely because of it. “You're not lost are ya?”

“Not too fancy, I need a Hunting Dog for a proper job. I thought you might be interested in being paid for some adventure.” Rex smiled and then laughed at the thought of being paid to fight. For many it was a completely alien concept. He was always on the edge of dark mirth. Tempered by a sarcastic good humor. He complimented Angela well.

“Yeah, figured as much. Ya don't come around if ya don't need muscle.” He looked around the bar. “A pity that, we have such wonderful culture. Yeah, but a job? I'll take whatever bones ya got to toss my way.” They shook hands again and sat down as Rex nursed his drink. Unusual.

“Taking it easy on the hooch? Aren't you going to ask what we're getting paid?” She asked, frowning at his half full mug of rotgut. She didn't like his drinking, it often got out of hand and caused problems. But that was his problem. Rex was disciplined enough to behave while on contract.

Rex nodded. “Does it matter what the pay is? Work has been slow. I've been sleeping in a flop house for three cycles. Drinking is my only pleasure these days. Girls are well out of my grasp.”

“That can't cost too much. A handful of credits a gallon? And it smells like a couple deep breaths would knock out a bull. You were never careful before. So, what gives?”

Rex held up his arm. A small silver chip was embedded on the back of his hand. “Judge felt I was drinking too much, and in all the wrong places. Too visibly flaunting my vices you know. He had a monitor implanted. If my drinking gets out of hand, the wagon comes to pick me up. I kick it in a box for a few months and have another black mark on my record. Too many black marks hurt even people in our profession.” He shook his head and growled in disgust. “So, what do ya have cooking that you need a man of heart to back you?” Rex asked as he stretched and flexed his wiry arms. Rex wasn't especially large or powerful when compared to the competition. But he was quick and damn skilled with any weapon that landed in his hands. She had seen him turn heavily armed warriors into And nearly as dangerous with an empty palm.

“There's a problem in the tubes between East Gate and Junction I3. Workers have been going missing. Or coming up as empties.”

“Killings huh? Does it sound like scavengers are getting into the tubes? And we're going in to find out what the gig is. These insiders are a bit dim, they should never leave the perimeter.”

“Here.” Angela said as she handed Rex the small plastic card that would get him into the staging area.

“Oh, and now the end of my drought is official! I thank you comrade, I'll meet you at the port with my gear.” They parted ways as Angela climbed into the inbound monorail and zoomed away.

Angela returned to her flat and stripped off singlet and tossed it aside. The dome was kept at a constant temperature and the thin fabric was more than enough to protect her modesty. The outside world was not. She climbed into her favorite jumpsuit, a dark gray and often patched garment that had been worn in places from where blood and other stains had been scrubbed out. The surface was riddled with a multitude of pockets, many of which were hidden. Her most important and mundane gear was stashed in those pockets. From spare batteries to lock picks. She would sooner leave the city without her Equalizer than that jumpsuit.

Angela made one final check of the contents of her pockets. Everything she expected that she may need was accounted for. She collected the remainder of her kit and caisson.

The city came alive and the streets and rails filled with traffic. Aside from the dull metal box in her hand, Angela appeared little different from the thousands of others travailing the town as the shifts rolled and changed.

The flow of humans thinned as they approached Center, that megalithic tower that overlooked the rest of the city. This was the home of the Church and her Government in Indy. Center was the sentinel guarding the only gateway to the underworld. One had to pass through the underworld in order to leave paradise.

Angela handed her pass card to the the door guard at the surface gate, saying nothing of her business. The guard took the card and studied it. She stopped for several long moments, waiting for Angela to run her chip over the scanner. Angela stared back with feigned indifference. The guard appeared confused and he finally bent to examine Angela's ID closely. After a few moments he compared the likeness to her physical person and cross-checked it against the information that came up on his screen.

She didn't know what record passed before the guard-woman's eyes. Little of it was true and Athena was just one of a half-dozen different identities that she had stepped into since the beginning of her career. She hadn't been able to study the newest files completely yet, a mistake that might catch up with her if she failed to remedy it.

People who lived in the shadows didn't survive very long when they ventured into the light. Not when someone took notice. The guardswoman passed Angela with a glare. As Angela entered the Eastern Tube Station, she slipped into a corner to slip on her mask and helm. The rest of the armor would have to come later, after she checked it out of Athena's assigned locker.

The stairs went down about three stories and emptied out in a giant domed chamber with two-dozen entrances spaced evenly around the perimeter like points on a compass. A full six of those yawning holes hid stairways out of the dome. The rest lead to the underworld. Angela had ventured through less than half of the portals, and sometimes itched to explore the rest. Each doorway hosted a platoon of fully decked Rangers.

The heavy armor and arms were enough to cast a spell of intimidation on the uninvited.

Hundreds of men and woman scurried about the floor. Their eyes were on their feet as they hurried on with their work. Angela stepped into the flow of the crowd and drifted with the current towards the center of the hall.

A single desk sat in the middle of the floor. A solitary laborer was sitting behind the desk. She was a handsome woman, but judging by the cut of her jumpsuit she was ranked lowly. Pretty folk were always stationed out front. Angela just hoped that the woman wasn't vapid. She looked bored.

Angela drew a clearance card and handed it to the woman. The laborer stared at the card for a moment. She was confused. The card was blank except for a single gold chip. Doubtful she had encountered the like before. Few people in Indy had.

She looked up at Angela, as if she were trying to dig around the edges of the mask, or bore through. Angela smirked and stared back. The woman dropped her eyes and returned her attention to the card for one long moment before she finally inserted it into the scanner. And then three more times before calling over her supervisor, who repeated the process. “Everything seems to be in order Soldier Athena. Let me get my pass key.” He returned and led Angela to a heavily reinforced side room.

Dots of perspiration appeared on his forehead as the Supervisor tried to figure out the mechanism for the lock. Angela quashed the urge to sidle right back out the door. If this buffoon glitched, then she wouldn't be around to feel anything. A wrong jiggle might mean that his subordinates would be cleaning a dripping coat of blood and human gore from the walls of the bunker. The Supervisor held his breath. The locked clicked open. He released a long sigh and stepped aside. Angela opened the box and began to sort her gear.

Angela thanked the supervisor as she slid the Equalizer into the holster over her left hip. The handgun was heavy, but the weight was a pleasant comfort. That weight meant extra fire-power in her hands. One knife went into each boot, a third at her right hip and a last between her shoulder blades.

She closed the case and snapped the lock shut before handing it over to the door guard for storage. “Take care of this.” She said flippantly as she left to find her Dog.

Rex was overdressed for their outing. A SMG on each hip, a shotgun slung over his shoulders. More knives than she could keep track of. He acted like a one man squad. Worse. A nozzle peaked out of his coat. He was packing an incinerator.

“Are you sure you need that?” She asked, motioning towards the half hidden space-heater.

“We're going to clear tunnels out aren't we?” Angela lifted an eyebrow.

“And if we want prisoners?”

“Then we get the less blackened ones. The brain trust can regrow them from the left over flesh.” Angela reached into her bag and pulled out her mask. It was a new model. Grey with blue lines. Only the barcode remained unchanged. “Besides, the Sky-Dwellers never want us to take prisoners directly, at least not adults.”

“New face huh?” Rex asked as he slipped on his helmet. The man used to wear a mask, one that was as battered as the mug that it nominally protected. He had since switched to a full helmet and face-plate. The new face-plate was molded into a grinning skull. Spikes ringed the helmet. He was a frightening sight to behold when he emerged from the dark, and more than one foe had broken and fled. Especially out in the void.

“Yes. The 300 model.” They made small talk about the features in the mask. Standard armor rating. The HUD was a step up from her old model with superior optics – thermal, IR, polarized and 7 powers of magnification. Both Micro and Macro. It was lighter than the last with a built in air filter, and had a port to attach to an external air supply should the need arise. The coins had been legitimate currency. The boon had eased some of the ire that Client had arisen in her mind.

As with the rest, she still declined to take further assignments from the man. Referring Client instead to willing colleagues. They could have that Client.

“So Athena, who is paying us?”

“The city is paying me, and I'm offering you your usual cut.”

“10% sounds fair to me. And the city? That's working into the big time How much are we making?”

“A Client recommended me. That Client has been sending a lot of business my way. I didn't ask about the pay, and the Client didn't mention it.”

“Well, the city usually pays around five grand for these types of jobs. Pretty good I think for a straightforward hunt. It must be nice to have loyal Clients. I've never managed to hold onto one for long.”

Angela tapped her mask. “Sometimes. Sometimes patronage takes a heavy toll.”

“Ah. Well, there are risks I suppose for someone in your position. Why are they sending us though? Why not the Rangers. This is the sort of work you expect them to do.”

“The Secretary didn't say, and I didn't ask.”

“You must have heard something right? You always have a lot of friends spread through the rings.”

“They're silent. Nobody seems to know anything. Or they're just not willing to speak.” Rex grunted. Angela slipped on her mask and ran a series of tests to make sure it was working before finally securing it. Rex copied her, producing his signature black and red snarling wolf facade.

Angela found her contact. He was a small man. Many of the Tunnel Engineers were, it was almost a requisite of the job. He was clad in the dull, colorless jumpsuit that was the uniform of the low level bureaucrat. The man's hair and mustache were greying, and his jumpsuit was spotless and crisp, suggesting that he was an overseer.

The official raised his head and looked up at Angela. His expression suggested that she was standing there and dripping with raw sewage. “You must be Soldier Athena. I was told to expect your arrival. Your associates are waiting for you. Orderly, lead Soldier Athena to the office where it's associates have been stored.”

Rex leaned in and asked, “Associates?”

“We're bringing along a pair of Ferrets.”

Rex nodded. “A wise move. That way we don't have to try and wiggle into the smaller tunnels. As long as the team is skilled. But you wouldn't bring anyone who didn't know one end of a carbine from the other. Anyone I know.”

“Gemini Team from the Thomas Clan.” Athena began.

The string of profanity was suddenly cut off when Rex realized that his radio was still broadcasting. Clearly they had met. Or maybe he didn't get along with the Thomas Clan on general principles. Well, they were a rather cutthroat lot. But they were trustworthy. Angela growled into her radio. The last thing she needed was drama while in the tunnels.

Gemini were sitting against the wall next to a large door. They stood up and removed their masks as Angela approached. Both were short and slim and wearing black fatigues that molded to their wiry bodies. Leto stood taller than his older sister by a handful of centimeters. Both had delicate, pale faces with large dark eyes and black hair. Both briefly glanced at Rex with a look that blended disgust and disdain. Angela wondered which of the two Rex had propositioned and a few scenarios played through her mind.

Each was worst than the last. She'd have given an additional 10% cut right then and there to find out. 50% to have known far enough in the past to have avoided the whole mess.

After that initial glance, Gemini markedly ignored Rex. “We're ready and waiting Athena.”

“Is what was offered an acceptable rate?” She knew it was. They had agreed upon the terms before the twins had signed up. But the forms needed to be followed.

“That is acceptable to me.” Leeta said, offering her hand. Her brother Leto followed. They too secured their smooth and featureless black masks.

The supervisor returned and waited back until he was acknowledged. His words poured out in a nervous stream. “Pardon my intrusion Soldier Athena, but I have just received orders that one of the Ministers would like to speak to you.”

Angela suppressed a start. Rex's hand moved towards his knife. “Wait here.” She ordered her companions as unburdened herself of her equipment, especially anything that could remotely be imagined to be a weapon. She motioned to the supervisor to lead the way. He almost shook with relief as he took off at a trot towards a elevator.

The Ratcatcher had ventured inside of Center fewer times than she could count on one hand. Even the hand where she was short a digit. Even a hand that was completely wanting of fingers. One had to be invited to enter Center and the untouchables such as herself were rarely allowed into the holiest heart of the city.

An extraordinarily pretty man with a strong, lean body in a neat suit was waiting behind a desk. He wore a vapid smile and nodded to the supervisor in a friendly manner as the door opened. Angela stepped out of the lift. The tunnel supervisor remained inside the elevator box, looking relieved as the doors shut and he could return back under the earth to his world.

There was no point in trying to hide, odds were good that they already knew who she was. Angela stepped into a lobby. Her attention was captured by the large fountain of black marble that rested in the center. Each park in Indy had a fountain at the center, but she had never heard of one being indoors. Angela was unsure how she would be expected to behave. She removed her mask and bared her face before the elevator doors swished closed.

The pretty man pretended not to notice Angela as she stood rigidly in the middle of the floor. Finally a panel in the back of the waiting room slid open with a audible swish. Angela waited for some further sign of invitation several minutes longer before stepping forward. The man still took no notice, so she passed through the doorway.

A withered old woman with a sullen mouth sat behind the desk. She did not stand up to greet her guest, nor did Angel expect her too. In a monotone “Athena Ratcatcher.” It was neither a question nor a greeting. The woman was merely stating a fact. In front of her stood a Ratcatcher who often used the alias Athena.

Height, 167 Centimeters. Weight 55 Kilograms. Hair dark blond. Approximate Age 27. No distinguishing marks or tattoos. Derelict. Plus a hundred more little factoids that she would never have considered. Few happenings under the Dome slipped past the Seers unnoticed. Angela cringed inside as she was reminded about how exposed she was.

“You are hereby ordered to clear out the Eastern Tunnel between Junction I-1 and K-35. Rovers have been entering the tunnels and waylaying shipments of goods between the other domes. This is costing Indy trade. Any non-authorized personnel that you encounter within the tube are to be exterminated. No exceptions. Period. You will be working with Security. Twenty-Five Thousand Credits have already been transferred to your account, and another Twenty-Five Thousand will follow when you complete your assignment. All of your expenses will have to come out of those payments. We are watching.”

Fifty Thousand Credits? That was easily what she would make in two years of taking every last job that came her way and scavenging food from the gutter, even after expenses. Angela intestines were bathed briefly by an icy wind of pure dread. The city never paid that much to any Ratcatcher for a single job.

There were many questions to be asked. There were always questions of course. “Why?” Held the first five places in Angela's list. Answers were a different matter. Answers were rarely given. Angela clicked her heels and saluted. The woman waved her away and the door opened once more. She found the elevator waiting for her as she resumed the foyer. Her crew was waiting for her when the elevator doors opened again. She stomped down on the sudden tickling of nervousness before it transmuted into pure dread.

The Cart Driver lectured to mercenaries as they raced through the sunless tunnel. Angela caught the occasional flash of the grey concrete walls as they passed, but nothing more. “When the tube is sealed, large pumps remove the air and create a vacuum inside. When the capsules are loaded and sealed, they're powered up and then catapulted along the rails at 2500 Kilometers per hour. We can get a full load from Indy to Ny in just around an hour. The passage to Chi takes about an hour, including prep-time. Our engineers are working on cutting even that. I hear that with the new advances the cross seas trip to the megalopolis' of Westminster or Rees are quicker than the Indy-Ny passage.”

“And scavengers hide in the tubes? How? Last I recall, a man cannot survive long in a vacuum. How do they get in? Why would they even try?”

The tech shook his head and pointed at a hatch on the left side of the tunnel. “They don't stay in the tubes themselves. Not usually. We do find a corpse from time to time during maintenance. When they do venture into the tubes it's when the capsule has been forced to stop. Then they loot whatever they can lay their hands on and kill or drag off the passengers and crew. Mostly we encounter signs of intruders in the maintenance tunnels, where they cut holes into the structure and burrow in. There are three tunnels sandwiching each pair of tubes, and all three have access hatches to the surface. We think that the outcasts have broken open some of those hatches in order to get inside. This is how it was. Now, parts of the tunnels won't seal properly.”

“So great, fix the hatches. What do you need me for?” Angela hated working in the tunnels, they were so cold and damp. Worse than the sewers even. The blackness only opened long enough to let the globe of light pass before closing up again. The blackness seemed to run on for infinity.

“My department has been doing its best to maintain the hatches. But the rovers above ground are destroying them faster than we can effect repairs. We are being overwhelmed.”

“This I why we were hired.” Angela responded a mite curtly. “To clear out your infestation. Up above if need be.”

“Up above? You'll actually leave the tunnels?” Awe was evident in his face and voice. And horror. “How much safe air does your mask hold?”

“Enough. Always enough.” Rex said. Angela could hear the man's grin.

Several lights on the console began to blink. “Here we are.” The Engineer declared and he flipped some switched and pulled a lever. They began to slow and then came to a complete stop in several meters from an enormous steel door. “That is a pressure door. There is one every ten kilometers. There has been a breech in the west tube somewhere on the far side, allowing the atmosphere from the topside into the tube. The east tube is still intact, but who knows for how long. After you're done, some of our crews will be sent out into the tunnels to fix the gaps and bring the system back online. I'm glad it won't be me!”