“Yes my friend, we will go soon enough,” she said to her familiar companion, but still she sat quietly as dusk crept across the land and the first tentative stars pierced the vault of the sky. Sighing, she finally urged her mount onto the slight path leading down the mountain. She shouldn’t have taken the time to come up here, she knew, but she had desperately needed a break from the constant grind of the research laboratory. She loved the work, had only dared imagine she would be given an opportunity like this when she graduated from P&ITT, but the safety precautions and unceasing vigilance required while she was working was exhausting. More than one lab assistant had been relieved when the lab cameras or the silent observers standing patient guard detected any hint of irregularity or lack of concentration. She tugged the wide-brimmed hat she wore lower in front as her mount picked up speed headed down the mountain. Grinning, Sarah gave the horse his head and a trot turned into a gallop as they raced the darkness back to the corral.
 
 
 
“Hola Sweet Sarah Mary!” called out the night lab tech as Sarah stepped through the last set of airlocks, slipping her badge into its special holder sewn into an inside pocket of her lab coat. He glanced up from the bank of video monitors and computer displays, but only for a second. “I wasn’t expecting to see you back until tomorrow” he continued as Sarah waved to him.

“Como estas Ernie? I was writing up some reports when I had an idea” she said as she walked around the operations console.

“Did you hurt yourself?” came the laughing reply.

“Be gentle Ernie, you wouldn’t like me when I’m mean” she said, frowning in mock threat. She smiled at the guards as she always did and was rewarded with a reserved nod. She had been working at this carefully hidden installation for almost a year before any of the guards would so much as nod. She also knew they were more than just guards. She had enough experience with the military to recognize soldiers and mercenaries when she saw them. There was something about men and women who had passed through the crucible of the battlefield that set them apart. Moving slowly, she removed two packs of cigarettes from a coat pocket and placed them on a table closest to the guards. Smoking was, of course, forbidden within the lab and even if it was not the guards were too professional to compromise their hands by smoking. However, she played poker with some of the guards at the barracks occasionally and packs of cigarettes were the preferred currency. She had grown up around military personnel; her mother had been a career soldier and commanding officer at a number of bases before her retirement. Sarah appreciated their commitment and professionalism as well as their company and stories. Turning back toward the operations console, she stood quietly behind Ernie as his long-fingered hands flickered back and forth over the touch-sensitive screens that controlled the technological marvel. As was her habit, she slowly surveyed the multiple displays showing environmental conditions, the status of the portal integrity fields, the last 4 hours of grid distortions and many other indicators and recorders.

“And what has the mighty intellect to share with us lowly mortals?” Ernie joked with her without taking his eyes from the monitors.

“From my lofty perch I have had a vision, oh puny and slow-witted one” Sarah replied ostentatiously “and if you were capable of appreciating it then I would share it!”

“You wound me deeply” Ernie replied, looking distinctly unwounded. “Please, enlighten me, for your vast knowledge is a beacon in my darkness.”

“Nice one Ernesto!” Sarah said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Since you begged so nicely, I’ll let you in on my brainstorm.”

“That and the fact that you need my help” he replied with a laugh.

“Well, yes, there is that” she said as she slipped into the chair next to his. There was an uncomfortable moment as the chair read her identity and preferences from the microscopic chip embedded in her upper right arm and shifted its configuration to match its new occupant. Even after all this time, Sarah still wasn’t quite used to a chair that moved around her as she sat down, but since any of the lab personnel might be stuck in one of those chairs for hours at a time, she certainly appreciated it. “Anyway, here’s the thought process” she began. “We’ve never been able to determine what precisely makes this gunk, that’s my official technical term by the way but don’t worry, I’ll slow down if you need me to, that makes this gunk change the way it does.”

“True enough. The ‘gunk’, as you so eloquently expressed it, just doesn’t follow any conventional theories on the structure of matter or energy. We’ve hit it with every kind of test we can think of, even those that fell out of your brain, without much success. The fluctuations we observe don’t follow any predictable, or hell, even repeatable pattern. Lord knows we’ve tried everything the smartest people in this hemisphere could come up with.”

“No need to rub it in Ernie me boy, but that’s exactly where I think we’ve gone wrong.” Ernie glanced swiftly at her face, raising an eyebrow in inquiry before returning to his monitors. “We have the finest scientific minds here and technology that the rest of the world won’t even dream of for another decade” Sarah continued, “but I think that’s precisely why we aren’t getting anywhere.”

“Okay, I realize that I’m not in your league, but where the hell does that leave us?”

“Bear with me Ernie. I do need your help. I want you to set up a containment field in lab 6 and open the smallest portal you can manage. With what we’ve gotten so far, you can squeeze a small amount in there, can’t you?”

Ernie pulled his hands off the console controls and slowly cracked his knuckles. “Yes I can, but you’re going to have to give me more than that before I will. What do you have in mind, sweet Sarah Mary?”

“I want to read it poetry.”

The expression on Ernie’s face rendered any comment superfluous.
 
 
 
She shuffled slowly down the long corridor, her bare feet scuffing gently over the worn carpet. She looked neither right nor left but only down, as if to make sure the ground would not dissolve beneath her. The once-white lab coat draped over her was tattered and torn, ripped along one side and spotted with dark blotches. She paid no heed to the screams that echoed down the corridor. They were like background noise to her now; something that she never noticed, but that she was always aware of. Her face was hidden in the dark shadow cast by the wide-brimmed hat she wore pulled low in front. Dark hair streaked with red cascaded down to her shoulders, gleaming in the overhead lights. Soft murmurings escaped unnoticed from between her lips as she finally reached the thick doors of the first of three airlocks blocking the way into the laboratory beyond. The door beeped softly as she placed her hand over the recognition lock and the electronics hidden inside the thick door matched her palmprint to the data encoded in the chip embedded in her arm. Large bolts slid back almost silently and the airlock opened easily as she pushed forward. Twice more she went through the same process, adding a retinal and DNA scan at the final airlock.
As she stepped into the lab, thick, viscous black tentacles of something that moved of its own volition surrounded her. It caressed her face, touching her lips, her eyes and her sunken cheeks. Stray wisps of something more than smoke swirled about her tall body, urging her farther into the room. Pushing her gently when she strayed, the ebon tendrils slid around the skin-tight white bio-filtration suit she wore, always pulling her deeper and deeper into the room. Eventually she stood in the center of the room, surrounded by softly glowing display screens stacked almost floor to ceiling. Bare cables draped across equipment, broken monitor screens and shattered equipment containers were scattered across the floor. Tears streamed down her face as she reached trembling arms out and clutched at the floating ebony ball hovering there. A wide smile appeared on her lips as she pulled the sphere of blackness to her chest, her tears dripping downward and disappearing into the pulsing darkness. She stepped forward again and was enveloped in the black mass. Wild laughter burst from her raw throat. Her foot caught a book lying on the floor and sent it skidding over the polished surface to crash against a wall panel. Whirling toward the sound, her eyes blazed with maniacal intensity at the dim figure the book had bounced off. As the dark tendrils shifted, shadowy figures resolved themselves into heavily armed and armored men moving through the dark miasma toward her.
“Yesss” she whispered as they surrounded her, “we’ve waited so long. Come my pets, come to me! Come to your sweet, sweet madness!”
One by one, the men kneeled around her slender figure, each one stretching his arms upward toward her. From one she took a pair of black gloves laced with blood-red circuitry patterns and pulled them on. From another, a tactical belt complete with spare clips of ammunition and festooned with buttoned containers that he belted about her slim waist. A long scarf with alternating black and red bands went about her neck from the hands of a third and trailed down her back almost to the ground.
“Oooo, did you bring those just for me?” she cooed as she saw the black leather, thigh-high boots draped across the arms of one of the men. She grabbed the boots up, the circuitry embedded in them leaping to gleaming red life as she touched them. “Down!” she commanded imperiously and the soldier dropped to all fours. She sat down heavily on his spine and stretched out her long legs, lasciviously drawing the boots on. Jumping up she grabbed an assault rifle from another man; absent-absentmindedly wiping off the blood caked on the foregrip.
“Well, I think we’re done here” she said. “You!” she said, kicking over one of the kneeling men. “Make sure you and the others get my equipment loaded. And be careful!” She grabbed his flak jacket and with surprising strength jerked him to his feet. “You I can replace” she hissed mere inches from his face “but that equipment is priceless.” Throwing him aside contemptuously, she turned and cocked her head as if listening. “Yes, yes, I know, I know! But we have to get to a safe place where I can work. You aren’t cheap you know” she grinned happily. “We’re going to need money, lots of money.”
Snapping a new clip into her assault rifle, she spun and strode quickly over to a computer console. Her fingers flickered rapidly over the controls and an insistent bell began ringing. “30 minutes and this place is vaporized” she cackled.
“Get up you idiots!” she screamed at the blank-faced men still kneeling in a circle. “The things I have to do for you” she said. “You two” she said, pointing, “Go get the transport ready. The rest of you get the portal.” She watched as her minions left to carry out their tasks, then she stooped slightly and picked up a small stack of books. “Mustn’t forget these,” she cackled to herself. “After all, where would I be without them?” she said as she turned on her heel and strode toward the airlock. Her laughter trailed behind her, echoing through the halls far longer than should have been possible.

“Father will be pleased with our work today.” Simone affirmed as she shifted her pack to sling a smaller bag over her shoulder.

“Indeed, he will,” Ethan agreed, “as will the rest of the community. What we do means a lot to everyone.”

“I am sure,” he added with a teasing tone, “Jason will be proud of your accomplishment.”

She turned to show him her rolling eyes and a nose wrinkled as if she had come across some foul smell.

“Well,” he continued, “You know he will. Then he will laud your abilities as a medicine woman, a cook, and a huntress. Then he will comment on how beautiful you are and what a benefit you are to the community.”

Simone turned and looked at him as if she had stepped into whatever had created that foul odor she had imagined a few moments earlier.

“You know, Simone,” he said seriously, “I have heard the rumors. He is going to ask father for permission to take you as his wife.”

Simone stopped and sharply turned to face him again, looking somewhat ill.

“No!” she stated emphatically, “No … no … no … no … NO!”

“Father will say it would be a good union between our family and his.”

“I’d sooner marry a tunnel drone!” she said, smacking him smartly on the arm.

Ethan laughed as he rubbed his arm to ease the sting. He believed if Jason asked, Father would agree. He wondered if the ensuing battle would earn a title similar to The Change. Their thoughts kept them moving quietly for some time.

Their mood lightened as they stepped onto the path to their home. The community had been established by those who had escaped the invaders at the start of the battles. It was hidden in a mountainous cul-de-sac for its safety and ease of defense. The initial settlers stayed in caves. Later, after the fighting calmed, they expanded their living area. They built on the land outside of the caves, yet stayed within the confines of the rocky bowl in the mountain.

“They’re here!” the returning gatherers heard as they approached the entrance of the cul-de-sac.

“Miriam,” said Simone,” She is always waiting for us.”

“Indeed,” Ethan responded, “and always wants to hear of every minute of the trip.”

“… aaand ..” Simone continued, smiling, “will pester more then ever to go with us next time.”

They both laughed lightly as they knew the truth of this prediction. They took her on short trips into the areas nearby. Miriam was quick to learn and did well traveling through the hillside terrain. She wanted to go into the tunnels, but it would not happen soon.

Miriam greeted them as they moved closer to them and continued to eagerly ask questions as the trio moved toward the living area.

“Did you see any drones? Did you find any berries? Were there rats in the tunnel? Did you see the traveler? Did you find any pretty rocks? Were the lights still working? I bet you got a lot of dandelions, didn’t you? Simone, did you find any glow powder? Ethan, did you get the vines for some rope? Are you exhausted? Do you want me to make you some tea? Can I see what is in the packs?”

“Enough, Miriam!” Ethan exclaimed, smiling, as he realized his sister had stopped a few steps back.

“What traveler?” asked Simone.

The Princess Mariss du’Aldra looked coldly at her former advisor cowering on the floor of the dank dungeon that had been his home for the past three weeks. “Did you really think you could get away with this, you pathetic worm?” she hissed. “Did you?” she suddenly screamed and raised the barbed whip in her right hand high above her head. “You think the Heir that much a fool?”

“Please, please, please” babbled the broken shell of a man, tugging uselessly against the iron links chaining him to the cold stone wall, “no more, please!”

“Where did you send it? This, this… sick echo of my magnificence? Tell me where!” demanded the princess, bringing the whip whistling down on his bleeding back once more. “My spies say you were behind this abomination, this other… me! We will crush this conspiracy! We will grind the bones of you all into paste to paint the walls of my throne room” she screamed. The whip lashed out again and again, leaving bloody trails spattered across the walls and floor.

“The Family du’Aldra is feared across the entire world! As We rightfully should be! Fool!”

White bone gleamed in the shoulders and face of the gibbering man as he tried desperately to jerk away from the flailing leather lash. The cruelly hooked metal barbs tore through skin and muscle as the silver-haired woman punctuated each sentence with vicious strength.

“There is only power! Power is all that matters, you fool. Terror is all that you deserve! Goodness? Decency? Are nothing compared to the glory of the empire and We are the empire!” She scarcely noticed the pathetic whimpering from the bloody lump at her feet fade into silence. “We shall never be replaced by some pathetic, sniveling, weak semblance of Us!” Panting from her exertions, she threw the whip at one of the guards standing beside her and whirled upon a slim man clad in black with the deep sapphire accents that marked him as part of the royal household. leaning against edge of the door to the cell. “And what do you have to say for yourself, Inquisitor Yaer?”

“The same as I told you before you came here, my Princess” he replied slowly. “The drugs and machines are not infallible, but they seldom miss anything of consequence.” He slipped his right hand inside the flaring sleeve of the opposite arm and white light spread across the ceiling. “These archaic trappings and methods, on the other hand, are unreliable at best. Which you are well aware of.”

The Princess glared at his expressionless face, blue eyes clashing with black, for a long moment. Then a smile crept across her lips and she motioned for the cell door to be opened. The low hum of the force cage reinforcing the metal bars died away and the door swung soundlessly open. Four members of her elite guard waited outside the door, spreading out around her as she strode easily through the doorway and out into the hall. Inquisitor Yaer fell into step to her right and just behind her but outside the box formed by the four silent Imperial Guardsmen.

“Oh, I got what I wanted, Inquisitor.”

“But he said nothing I had not already told you.”

“So?” she replied, her liquid laughter echoing from the stark walls.

Copyright © 2007, All Rights Reserved.

“There seems to have been a problem with the credit transfer.”

“There is no problem. There is no payment for unfulfilled commissions.”

“What are you talking about? Completion was guaranteed. The oversight inspection returned perfectly clean results.”

“Incorrect. Three billets were improperly handled. We have a troubleshooting team reviewing the situation.”

“Three? Send me the data and I’ll take care of it. There’s no need for a separate team.”

“Negative. The team is already in the field tracing the billets.”

“Now wait you…”

“Repeat, the team is in the field and will complete the commission. Your assistance is no longer required nor desirable. There will be no further business relations between us. Ever.”

Unlatching her dented and dirty hardshell armor to pull out a nicstik, Dera shook it alight as the light-sensitive camera mounted on her left shoulder whirred quietly, following a preprogrammed pattern across the crime scene to record the carnage for forensicomp analysis later. Shards of glass littered the floor about the mangled remains of what, at some time previously, had been a human being. Her partner slipped quietly around the room with a portable inspection unit, careful to stay out of the camera’s field of view as it whirred and clicked its way back and forth across the small room.

“DNA scan negative, ID scan negative.”

“You’re wasting your time, Del. The Bumblebee popped up outside the window, emptied the magazine and, just like that, problem all gone. No evidence either. And cybercypher here,” she pointed at the corpse with the glowing end of the nicstik, “won’t have a past or a present on record and sure as hell ain’t gonna have a future.”

“Yeh, I know, but they’ll wanna see the scans anyway” Del sighed, “even if it is just a case of business as usual.”

Chapter the 1st: Ain’t No Effin’ Angel
Imagine all the sleazy bars in all the vids you grew up on: the punks, the whores and the hard men mixing in the urban soup called a city. Condense all that into a single gestalt of the quintessential bad place to be. Welcome to the Fallen Angel. Try not to die before you leave, the bartender really hates to clean up.

I do business down here sometimes, away from big lights, big city. Some call me The Tween, some call me Mister Fixit, a very few even use one of my names. Most people would think that a geek in a suit like mine would last inside the Effin’ Angel, as we regulars call it, about as long as a cherry in a third-gen corpwar. Just goes to show that most people don’t hang around in places like the Angel. Which is good or the bartender would be cleaning up lily-livers 24/7. The only two things that matter inside the Angel are the two A’s: Attitude and Armament. Attitude is my life, armament is my business. All kinds of business greases through the Angel: a thousand eurobuck whore might be translating two vials into a hundred-thousand folding downpayments on her next black-market biosculpt with the rest going to feed her pimp’s taste for expensive cars. The whores slum to the Angel when they need hard curry in a hurry. Sex with grimers and drifters don’t add up in a hurry so they supplement their usual fare with a more esoteric menu. The buyers of these high-priced wares? Three road gypsies in long coats hanging past their knees with just that little bit of extra stiffness that means armor plates and enough metal laced into their bones that the floor creaks with their every movement.

My eyes roamed over my own customers seated at my usual corner table. The low-level video feed transmitted to my associates outside guaranteed revenge if not survival. Hey, every business has some risks and you just do your best to cover your ass. If the girl hadn’t been old input, and unfinished besides, they never would have heard of me and couldn’t have found me with a GPS beacon, satellite lock and IR gear. My catalog makes the hookers’ wares look like prizes in a penny-ante arcade in comparison. The gypsies that roam the dirtlands in the cracks between one megalopolis and another don’t usually have the funds or the need for my services. Wanderers don’t generally shop much in hard to get, harder to keep, heavy armament. They were a cash and carry bunch and most carried everything they owned on their backs. Small groups traveling together might have a need to protect, or take, something more than their bike and their pistols, but most knew their best safety was staying off the radar and under the ground swell. What they had to steal wasn’t worth the pain it would take to get it away from them and everyone knew it. The big groups, the ones that stayed together as they roamed places everyone else had the sense to stay the hell away from, they occasionally had a …situation… that could use my particular brand of solution. The slim woman leaning forward intently across from me over the indelibly stained and cracked plastic tabletop knew that. She also knew how to get to me, in more ways than one. She knew what I could do and was pretty sure about what I couldn’t. She hadn’t been so sure about what I wouldn’t and that was how we ended up when she ran out. Now the lady had a name in the streets and a rep dogging her heels.

“Nightshade,” she said, her startlingly green eyes bright with pride in her animated face, giving me her street name.” I allowed that I had heard of it, which was true. I keep track of mobile up-and-comers on the scene. They can be very useful to someone in my line of work. “I run . . . ran, I mean, out of the Starshine Followers . . . from down, down by the, the . . .,” she stammered and then faded out. The sparkle in those eyes dimmed behind the tears on her smooth cheeks as she tried to forget what she knew was true: the Starshine Followers were gone. She dropped back in her chair, dwarfed by the black giant next to her as he continued to watched me impassively. I gave him points for the lack of passion in his voice as he continued her words; “She means the Starshine Followers that formed down by the waterfront. I’m sure you know the story” his deep voice rumbled. I did. Everyone did.
He never moved but I could almost feel him hovering protectively around the woman as she continued to sob softly, gathering it together slowly. At least seven feet of proud ebony sculpture, his hard features expressionless, he watched for my reaction to the news. Good luck to him on that score. I retired my reactions years ago. I watched his bald skull glisten in the dim light and thought about that superchromed cybernetic arm of his oh so carelessly draped on the table, pointed at me.

“I don’t do hopeless causes” I said to him, matching his even tone. “Too hard on material I work too hard to get.” Subtle, that’s me.

“Not hopeless!” she broke back into the conversation. I heard the echoes of past arguments in her voice, arguments I’d never forget. “Not hopeless, not when the message is heard.”

“You think someone is listening? Do you really…” I stopped short, no point going there.

“Not hopeless” she repeated.

“We sold everything” rumbled the camo-clad giant. “We can pay the freight, friend. You saw the broadcast,” not a question, everybody had seen that one! “And you know my brother is serious. We were told that you were a serious man. You want some folding floating your way, fine. Not? We find someone else.”

Now that was a persuasive argument, folding money is always persuasive. Too many ways to track electrons on the wire or in the air. Sure, I did business that way too, but the black market ran on hard currency. Then there was the gypsy angle. Nomads went everywhere, saw everything, and lots of people pointedly ignored them which suited them just fine. The best of them held their wandering families together with a code of honor as old as gypsies themselves. If you weren’t one of them, then you were fair game, and if you were one of them, well they went to extreme lengths to protect their own. It was frequently the only the comfort the friendless wanderers had. Not a bad idea to have people like that in your debt, or at least as return customers.
Nor did I miss the implied threat: drifters have long memories for their friends, but even longer ones for their enemies. The Starshine Followers had been news in the undercurrent of the shadows as something to watch for a while before their name had been splashed across practically every flat surface in every city in the northern hemisphere. The Followers were unique. They were just what they said; followers. That might not sound significant unless you knew firsthand the fierce independence that drove most of them to take to the open road, never settling down, never settling in. For months there had been a slight but steady migration down to the sprawling docks district that had once thrived near Savannah. The drifters had gathered together before, but this time they hadn’t left after a few nights of bonfires.

Nightshade, still Sarah Mary to me, leaned back into the table. The raven waterfall of her hair tumbled across her bare shoulders, sweeping my eyes into hers. “We need the best. We need you. We are going to do this,” she said, intensity lacing her voice like diamond wire.

“Besides,” whispered a new voice beside me. “We’re good people to know.” I managed to keep from sending for the cavalry, but barely. What I deserve for letting myself get distracted during biz.

He’d apparently eaten a lot of gravel in his life; his voice sounded like he used it once a decade or so. He stepped around to the other side of the table and nodded to Sarah. His business with the two vials had obviously concluded. His two companions had disappeared somewhere, as had the hooker. “We heard. We’re here. I’m Sunny, like the stars.” And they say that cyborgs got no sense of humor. I wondered if he ever used more than five words in a sentence. The mirrored goggles grafted to his face tracked over Sarah and her carefully motionless companion.

I could almost hear the dust in the gears as the newcomer grated out, “Where’s the man?” in a tone of voice used to getting answers. A faint shudder rippled through the muscular black giant as he replied coolly.
“Not here. Might be later. Might not.” The diction must be contagious. I gave the guy points in Attitude and hoped that he had more than chill to back his play.

“You finish here, we’ll talk” the semi-human walking freezer replied. He wrapped himself up in his ragged trailduster and headed for the bar. The bartender’s repeating shotgun disappeared and he wiped down three glasses as the other two flanked the loquacious one and they all put an elbow down on the chipped marble. The normal sounds of the bar returned and I realized I had been holding my breath.

Sarah speared me with triumphant eyes. I gave her a brief nod to acknowledge the point. I removed my own mirrorshades and let my backup know they weren’t needed any longer. Good cover is expensive by the hour, but it’s just ‘parta da’ bizness’ as they say.

“So. You have a list for me I assume?” I smiled at them and the negotiations were on.

<em>Copyright © 2007. All rights reserved.</em>

“Simone!” he whispered intensely into the faint light of the tunnel.

“Simone!” he whispered again, hoping to hear her footsteps near.

He gave a startled jump when her young face popped up near him.  She held a soft glowing light near her face and put her finger to her smiling lips.  Her green eyes sparkled in the light as she motioned for him to follow.  He rolled his eyes, stifled a low groan and closed in behind her bouncing curls.  He loved his sister dearly; and, had always taken the role as her guardian and guide.  It had never been an easy undertaking.

He hated the tunnels.  Try as he might, he could not be silent as he followed her; and, making noise could alert a drone. They never knew where the mechanical workers would be patrolling. Though many of the robots had specific task assignments, some were always set to wander the tunnels randomly.  They made sure the pathways were clear of fallen debris and any unwelcome vermin.  Humans were no less vermin to them than the tunnel rats.

He and Simone did all they could to be smart in the tunnels.  They wore tightly bound leather on their feet so they could be protected and step quietly.  They wore no cloaks that could catch on the rock walls of the tunnel or make noise as they ran.  They wore tight gloves that allowed them a solid grip on their surroundings, and would not leave any blood from a scratch or cut that the rats or other starving creatures could follow.  Even the packs were bound tightly to their bodies so they would not bounce as the couple traveled.  

They were lucky that tunnels were lighted, though dimly, which made traveling easier. No one knew why the creators of the drones would want to have light in the tunnels.  Micah, an elder scholar, said it was probably for the creators to use if they entered the tunnels and might be a way for the creators to communicate with the drones.  No one had ever seen one of the creators in the tunnels; and for that, Ethan was most grateful.

“Ethan, look!” she whispered as she stopped abruptly, pointing to the wall.  It was covered with a soft web like moss. The fresh scent of the moss was a delightful contrast to the dank smell of most of the tunnel. Simone could take the moss and make delicious tea, medicine and flavoring for cooking from its different parts.  She gathered a large quantity of the web moss, leaving plenty to spread again across the wall and provide for future use.

 The two moved on to gather several types of mushrooms, some foul smelling mold scrapings, and a pot full of mud flecked with minerals.  It was then that they saw the rat.  Above ground, seeing the rodent might have meant an exciting hunt for meat and leather. Here, however, it meant people were the hunted meal.

Seldom was there a lone rat in the tunnels.  They were ruthless fighters, quick and vicious.  Their sharp teeth could easily rip through flesh and their claws were sharp enough to be painfully damaging. Both teeth and claws drew blood easily, and the scent of blood would quickly draw others to the scene.  The filthy scavengers could be killed, but that could attract the attention of a drone. Rats, normally, did not die quietly.

Simone saw it first, freezing suddenly in front of Ethan. Now alert to their visitor, he froze, too, hoping no drone was near enough to detect the upcoming fight. Being still and silent could sometimes work with a drone in the area, but never with rats.  They had a keen sense of smell and unbeatable persistence … and they were always hungry. The brother and sister team had a well practiced plan; but, it was not always successful.

Ethan slowly and quietly drew a blade from his belt as Simone untied the ends of the leather kerchief that wrapped her upper curls.  She reached for a pinch of powder from her belt pouch and waited.  As the rat approached, they could hear the claws of others on the rocks further down the tunnel. 

“Now!” said Ethan with a soft urgency and delayed log enough for Simone to throw the pinch of caustic powder into face of the rat and toss her kerchief over its body.  This enabled Ethan to grab the squealing target safely, slit it open and toss it down the path away from them.  As the other rats gathered to dine on their fallen brother, Simone and Ethan ran toward their exit.

Ethan loved it when they began to smell the fresh air from above.  It meant they would soon be above ground and free of the rocky corridors.  Though far from being out of danger, it meant they would be away from the drones and the darkness.  He understood that the trips to the tunnels were necessary, and he would trust no other to go with his sister; but, the very thoughts of the tunnels made him feel ill.

It was not a difficult climb from their entrance to the tunnels into the daylight. It was well hidden, though there was little need for secrecy here.  The creatures who controlled and dwelled within the domes, those who had created the drones, no longer ventured into the hills.

Ethan and Simone had not yet been born in the time of The Change. They had not known the horrors of the invasion and enslavement.  They had heard the stories … stories of great fiery battles, of weapons too powerful to defeat, of many people taken by the aggressors and others killed in great masses. They had heard stories of the time before The Change when people were everywhere and moved as they wished in the world … a time of no domes or domination.

“We did well today, my brother!” Simone said proudly, removing her gloves and loosening her pack. She shook her head as if releasing her red curls to the fresh air and sunlight.

“Yes, my sister, we did.” Ethan agreed, smiling as he also loosened his binding attire.

They sat to rest, reviewing the treasures and troubles of their journey. They shared some jerky from the packs and a flask of fresh water. It was a traditional respite before the walk home. They dared not drink until they were free of the tunnels, as less than a full flask would make splashing sounds.  When the weather was not friendly to their resting outside, they would remain in the crevice that led to the tunnels. They still would chat and share food and rest, but always lingered when the area was warm and welcoming.