Crashland – Chapter 10

Holden pushed the gun back. Gently, he didn’t want to appear entirely non-committal.

“One condition,” he said. “I don’t want to be killing anyone. If I help, it’s strictly as a civilian. Is that alright with you?”

Jacobs frowned. “You’re telling me you’ve never had occasion to fire a weapon in your life?”

“Just the once,” he replied with a grimace. “And it’s not something I want to repeat.”

“So I’ve gathered. But you can’t tell me you don’t want to see the people who did this to your fair city destroyed.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But not by me. You guys look like the professionals. At base, I’m just an engineer.”

“A bloody rich engineer.”

Holden waved flippantly. “Take away the money, all you’ve got is a technical specialist. That’s the way I want to go if I’m going to help you.”

Jacobs smiled and lowered the weapon, cocking the weapon and removing the magazine from the top. He slaps the respective parts down next to him and then reached behind him. In a quick blurr, he produced a sidearm that was about as big as the one Holden was carrying earlier. Though this one looked like an old military model, far less grisly than the one he’d been shooting off.

“Fine by me. But once we’re out there, you will carry this on your person at all times. I’ll also want you suited up in body armor. No one on our team is going out there without protection.”

Holden looked around the confines of the room. “Body armor?”

Jacobs smiled. “I don’t imagine your industries were involved in the development of much weapons were you?”

Holden shrugged. The myriad relationship between contractors and official holdings was a bit complex, and development of new technologies tended to trickle to just about every area of the market.

“No matter. I’m sure you’ll love it. In the meantime, take this.”

He put the gun in Holden’s hand, placed his other on top. It was lighter than the automag was, a lot sleeker too. He turned it sideways to get a better look at its assembly. It was almost square when he took into account the components in front of the trigger. The handle felt molded to fit his grip, almost like it was an extension of his own hand. All in all, it was quite pleasant feeling.

“Get a feel for it. When feel up to it, you might want to get in a little target practice.”

“I’d prefer not to have to use it.”

“Of course,” Jacobs said, standing up. “But in case you did, wouldn’t it be better to know you could hit what you’re aiming at?”

Holden chuckled and nodded.

“Good. Hang onto to it for now. Don’t worry, its unloaded so you can keep it close by without it going off in your pants.”

Holden chuckled. “Am I to sleep with it?”

“Do as you like. So long as it doesn’t keep you awake.”

He knew what that meant. Time to go back to his corner and sleep some more. Time to rest, heal, and summon the wherewithal to do what was being asked of him. Maybe when he awoke, there’d be even more in the way of answers. As difficult as they were to absorb, they were far better than the frightful possibilities his mind kept coming up with…

*            *            *

“How you feeling?”

Holden ran a hand over his face, trying to rub the feeling of numbness and disorientation away. He had slept well enough, or so it seemed. But looking into the plate of K rations, sitting by a newly kindled fire, he had to admit that he felt less than spectacular. The pain was diminished at least, that much he was grateful for.

“Well?” Jacobs repeated.

“If feels like I have wads of cotton where my brain should be.”

Jacobs nodded. “That’d be the Hydromorphone. Great at helping you sleep, terrible waking up from. Did you dream?”

Holden wasn’t sure. About all he could remember from the previous night was some cloak and dagger deals and lots and lots of guns. What happened after he curled back up on his sleeping bag and slipped off was a big black hole. He shook his head.

“Ah well, you must have slept good. Molya says you snore.”

That made him frown. He didn’t like the idea of someone watching him while he slept. But from what he remembered of Molya, he was sure he wasn’t too crazy about it either. Perhaps he ought to be grateful that someone was keeping him safe, at least.

Over the fire, the metallic can began to whistle again. Jacobs quickly snagged it off it’s tripod and poured from it into his cup.

“Refill?”

“No thank you. One cup’s enough.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned to woman next to him and filled her cup instead. Holden had been noting the way she had been looking at him all breakfast, but hadn’t said a word. He was sure she looked familiar somehow, but couldn’t place it.

Finishing with his tray, he placed it neatly at his feet and eyed the bottom of his empty cup. A small black circle of detritus had formed there. He had been told that the strange liquid they had served him was coffee, but something in him still protested at this definition. Where he came from, it wasn’t black as tar and so overpowering. But again, he was glad for it.

Small mercies. Waking up alive, safe, and not having to worry where his next sustenance was going to come from. The thought of it made him feel suddenly guilty as he stared at that black ring. Guilty for ever suspecting these people of meaning him harm, guilty for ever finding fault in what they gave him, and guilty that he was enjoying such comforts while others died alone in the cold night…

“Shall we get to it, then?”

He looked up with a start. Holden was standing now. His stray and cup sat beside the fire in a small pile.

“Get to what?” Holden asked.

Jacobs smiled and looked at the woman seated next to him. She looked away like she was either uninterested or had no desire to get dragged into things.

“How quickly we forget. There are still introductions that need to be made.”

Holden searched his memory but came up empty. Again, the previous evening was somewhat of a blur to him. Reaching out to him, he provided some ballast while Holden got to his feet.

“Just follow my lead, things will become clear when we get there.”

Holden scoffed. “You’re quite the fan of cryptic explanations, aren’t you?”

After several grunts and a moment to steady himself, he was on his feet, and both men began the slow, assisted process of heading down towards the other end of the platform.

They had walked several meters before Holden felt the need to make conversation. The going was slow, and thus even a small distance felt like it took interminably long. Luckily, he still had plenty of questions and began with the most obvious.

“Where exactly are we?”

“An old maintenance tunnel,” Jacobs replied casually. “At least that was its purpose before Exigencies took it over. On the map’s, it’s the same as it ever was, but no transit employee has been here for years.”

“What about that train?”

Jacobs shook his head. “Hasn’t levitated since we arrived. Had to keep it here to justify keeping the tunnel in operation though. Unused tunnels have a way of drawing the attention of penny-pinching bureaucrats.”

“Ah,” Holden said, not entirely satisfied. “But where are we in relation to…”

He began waving vaguely upwards.

“Where we found you?” Jacobs asked. Holden nodded. “I’d say we’re about under Atkinson and Bletchley right now.” He stopped for a moment and looked up at the ceiling. He waited for a moment, listening and breathing in the stillness. “Yes, if this were the old days, the number 199 would be screaming by right about now. Mag trains make little noise but the air currents they stir up in these tunnels sound like a sonic boom.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

“Of course. I spent a few weeks down here many years ago. Part of our training consisted of finding our way through our more… challenging safe houses.”

Of course, he thought. How else would he be able to find his way in the dark? Jacobs started to move again, prompting Holden to follow. It was quite a while before he would ask anything else.

“How many people do you have here?”

Jacobs made a thoughtful noise. “You mean people like me? Agents? Or all told?”

Holden stammered out a few syllables before he could reply. “All told, I guess.”

“About twenty, I think. The civvies stay topside for the most part. They provide cover for our activities down here. To anyone passing by, their just another bunch taking shelter in a hovel. In exchange, we made sure they get the protection they need. As long as one of us is up there, making a show of strength, no one tries to take it from us.”

Holden’s thoughts drifted to the men who had attacked him, how his gun went with them after he had fallen. A disturbing possibility became apparent just then.

“Aren’t you worried there are armed thugs out there that might try to come by? If they see people up there, someone protecting them, they might assume that there’s something worth taking here.”

Jacobs shrugged. “Of course. But until we’re ready to move, there’s not much we can do but sit tight and keep watch.”

Holden accepted that. What else could they do? Given all that had happened, and the absence of any real help coming to them, what else could people do but hunker down and see to their own? When all else failed, all that really seemed to matter was where your next meal was coming from, and whether or not anyone was trying to take it from you. He was beginning to understand that now.

“We’re here.”

Holden looked up quickly. The light was failing them, but at this end, he and his men had dropped a series of what they called glow sticks every few meters that provided enough illumination. He could just make a door to their right and it seemed Jacobs was looking in its direction. Jacobs began to inch towards the wall again.

“It’s alright,” Holden said. “I can stand.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Holden let go of Jacobs shoulder. The other slowly moved away and reached for the door. He turned around. Holden caught a sight of his pupils, glowing eerily in the green chemical light. He nodded in Holden’s direction.

“You ready to meet the last member of the team?”

Holden nodded back. The door slid open. A meager amount of illumination trickled in from the platform, but ended mere inches beyond the front step. Another blacked-out room. Holden sighed.

Jacobs stepped in and began to disappear into the blackness. “Come on. Step in, light will be on in just a second.”

Holden took a deep breath and limped through the door. The doorway shut as soon as he was through. He spun around as quick as he could but could see nothing. Was it automated, or had Jacobs snuck behind him without him noticing?

“What’s going on?”

The lights came on as soon as the words left his mouth. Jacobs was now standing on the opposite side of the room, another wall mounted switch next to him.

“How did you do that?”

“Not the thing to be focusing on, right now,” he said flippantly. “Look down.”

Holden did as he was told and looked down to a small assembly on the floor.

It was a stretcher. Battery packs and what looked like fluid-filled pods surrounded it. And in the middle, hooked up to each of these boxes, was a man… if he could really be called that.

The entire backside of his skull looked to have been replaced by titanium plates. Numerous outlets were mounted in these and he recognized the configuration. They were optic outlets, the kinds meant to accommodate terabyte connections. He had others along his body, but these appeared to be medicinal connections, which made sense since they were the ones connected to the fluid tanks.

He looked next to the man’s face. His cheeks were sunken and his lips looked paper thin. His hair was also the color of graphite, ashen and grey. But it was what he had around his eyes that drew the most attention. They were covered with what looked like a set of display goggles. His arms, such thin and wiry things, were crossed in front of his chest. At the top of the stretcher, a small display tab beeped gently, his heart rate and breathing represented by dancing lines.

Holden approached carefully, worried that any serious vibrations might harm him. Even in his current state, he felt like a giant when confronted with this… individual. Carefully, he lowered himself to one knee and eyed him closer. The enhancements were familiar enough, but not in this kind of configuration.

“What is this?” he asked.

“This…” Jacobs said with dramatic emphasis, “is Simon. I’m sure he’s glad to meet you.”