《Liberum Book One: Waste Deep》


 Prologue: Gold Plated Fountains

    Lemmy watched with uninterested eyes as party goers shifted around the chandelier lit ballroom. Gold-rimmed glasses clinked and tinkled above the sounds of some electro-pop mashup song he couldn''t identify. Generous pours of Bullrutters were passed around as people started to fall into the rhythm of yet another high society party that he''d forget by tomorrow.


    Lemmy Greigs was the only son of the illustrious Bantam Greigs, owner of Greigs Aeronautical Works. He had always been introduced as such. He had always been addressed as such. He had always wanted to toss himself out of the nearest window when they did so.


    He''d always hated being a damn Greigs. Oh, the money and nearly unlimited research materials were perfectly agreeable. He wasn''t going to argue with that but putting up with his family''s snooty friends was tantamount to torture.


    As far back as he could remember, every party or gala he''d been forced to attend had bored him to near suicide. They never had anything to talk about. Oh, their mouths could certainly move, and sounds were made, but nothing interesting came out. It only ever evened out to impotent one-upping about new revenue reports and whatever shiny new AV they were puttering about in. Yes, he had in fact seen the new Terminus LM3s, he''d damn well built their propulsion systems. He''d spent the last six months looking at them and he was sick of hearing about how fucking shiny they were.


    When you were all filthy rich what did it matter if someone else was slightly more so? If the son of the head of Mayburn medical had an enormous apartment with four gold-plated fountains, why did yours need to have five? Why would you want to walk around your house being constantly reminded that you had to pee? None of it made any sense after a certain point.


    Motors. That''s what Lemmy understood. Motors made sense. You put one value in at one point and you got another value out the other. You shoved an 11mm driver into the ignition port and it would explode the next time you turned it on. Lemmy suspected that if you shoved an 11mm driver into the head of one of the many faces around him you''d be lucky if they noticed before their brains leaked out of their nostrils.


    Their lack of hobbies astounded him. As far as Lemmy was concerned getting wildly drunk in nightclubs and asking your parents for money didn''t count as hobbies. Admittedly, that time he''d seen Tanty Washoe do two rails of stardust off a moving air-cycle must have taken some level of skill. No small amount of practice either, as he''d found out at her funeral two months later. When his peers had snuck off mid eulogy to chase a bit of the purple dragon themselves, he''d understood that it wasn''t their fault. They didn''t know anything else.


    He''d only ever been interested in Asha Meadows at any rate. Asha was a bit of a weirdo among high society. She was rather pretty, but she never seemed to buy new clothes. Her long black hair and large green eyes gave her a bit of an occult appearance. She brought stacks of books to parties and read through them one by one until they started stacking the chairs on the tables. Her record was four in one sitting


    Rather than ignoring the other snoots, Lemmy could have sworn she was barely aware of their existence. In turn, the snoots avoided her like a foyer that didn''t echo. She was a perfect partner in lack of crime in his eyes. Unfortunately for Lemmy she seemed just as unaware of his existence as she was theirs. Their conversations tended to be only five words long. Though, most wouldn''t count "Hello Asha. How are you?" and the inevitable deafening silence as a conversation.


    Currently, Lemmy was sitting across from her skimming through the summary on the back of the novel she was reading. As far as he could tell it was a story about sewer workers or something. He''d heard about that being a dangerous job somewhere, how you could fill a novel with it though was lost on him. The cover was of a man in some sort of suit firing two assault rifles at what looked like a horde of giant ants.


    "Do sewer workers carry guns? I figured they just walked around with big plungers." Lemmy commented, primarily to himself.


    "Yes. It''s cheaper than using insecticides." Asha replied, to his surprise. It was so rare that she answered his questions Lemmy had to look around in case someone else had said it.


    "Wait. Did you actually hear me that time?" He asked, leaning in eyes wide with awe. This was the first time she''d answered one of his questions.


    "Yes. I hear you every time." She answered, still reading intently.


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    "Oh... Why don''t you ever tell me to shut up?" He asked, embarrassment flooding his face. He''d asked some quite stupid questions in the past, most with the intent of goading her into a response. He was currently remembering every one of them in excruciating detail.


    "No need. Not that distracting." She replied, her eyes never leaving the book.


    "Oh, sorry. Is that book very good?" He asked, trying to salvage the longest conversation they''d ever had. He''d asked plenty of idiotic questions up until this point. Why stop now? To his surprise she shook her head.


    "No, but it''s interesting. I can''t find many books on the sewers. These are the only ones." She replied, looking up at him for the first time. For a moment her eyes met his and then flicked back down to the open pages.


    "Sooo, you like the sewers but not the books?" He asked, trying not to sound too confused. Asha shrugged.


    "Neither, but I''ll have to know about the sewers to run the city one day." She answered, giving him a look. It had been a look, but it came across as a challenge. When Lemmy had recovered from his surprise he thought about her choice of words.


    "Run, but not own?" He asked, not even realizing he''d said it aloud. Every one of the snoots talked like they wanted to own the city, never run it. You''d have to be out of your gourd to want to run it. Ashas eyes lit up as she placed her bookmark and snapped the book closed. For the first time she asked him a question back.


    "And, why do you think that is?" She asked, locking her eyes to his like great green spotlights.


    Lemmy swallowed hard, trying not to lose the abrupt staring contest he was competing in whilst he thought. His brain raced, darting straight past all the normal reasons, then overtaking the abstract, but then he slammed on the brakes and made a u-turn. It seemed simple but then again simple tended to be profound.


    "People who own companies always leave the clever bits to someone else. I can''t remember the last time my dad made a business decision, let alone a good one. He lets Mister Lauper do that because Mister Lauper knows what he''s doing. If he wanted to, Mister Lauper could shut everything down tomorrow and my dad wouldn''t find out until the money stopped coming in." He answered, some sweat running down his forehead and soaking into his eyebrow.


    A discreet smile began to form on Ashas face. "You''re not as big a fool as you try to act Lemmy. That''s not a bad quality to have. Knowledge is a currency and its always best to look poor." She said, the smile leaving her face.


    Lemmy contemplated this. He''d always used a mask of idiocy to relate to the snoots. It hadn''t been entirely intentional, but it was a great defense mechanism. If people thought you were simple they just let you do as you pleased. Nobody wanted to be accused of bullying the simple guy. In his 23 years alive it had worked all the way up until this point.


    Asha glanced towards one of the groups drinking next to the bar. "Do you see that man over there? The one with the gold suit and the laugh loud enough to break glass?" She said, opening her book again and setting the bookmark on the table. Lemmy knew who she was referring to before he even looked. The man was palming a literal mug of Bullrutters.


    "Sternum Bloch? Yeah, his mom owns Bloch Steel. Why?" Lemmy said, trying to not let his eyes linger. Staring for too long might make his eyes go bad. Sternums suit was giving the Terminus LM3 a run for it''s money.


    "He, like many others, believes my family is poor. He believes that Bloch Steel is thriving and unsinkable. What he doesn''t know is that two days ago Meadows Mercantile bought Bloch Steel out from under them. He doesn''t know that if he keeps spending like he does, within two months he''ll be penniless.


    His mother doesn''t know either. She doesn''t know because, as you put it earlier, "People who own things leave all the clever bits to someone else." But I know. I know because my parents know. They know because they own and operate our company themselves. They do so because we''re better at the clever bits than anyone we could hire." She said, never taking her eyes off the book open in front of her.


    Lemmy sat back in his chair. Asha had always just been there, sitting and reading. Never saying a word good or bad about anybody. The other snoots seemed to drop in and out of the limelight quite often though, usually due to rehabilitation schedules. It dawned on him that there were some faces missing from this party.


    "Wait. The Olsteins and the Bellhouses haven''t been around for a while. Are you telling me that was your folks?" He whispered, leaning in a bit. Asha replied with a stare. Admittedly the Bellhouses had all been bell-ends but he''d actually appreciated the Olsteins.


    "And the Baggits? The Lockhams?" He whispered, leaning even closer. Asha continued to let her eyes do the talking. He slumped back into his chair, never taking his eyes off hers. A raucous bout of laughter from the direction of the unknowingly doomed Bloch compounded the overwhelming sense of irony Lemmy was feeling.


    He let out a sigh and scanned around the room. There were more faces missing that he''d never even noticed were gone. How long had they been slowly wiping out the upper class? Who was next?


    "Are you afraid?" Asha asked, shifting her eyes back to her book. It wasn''t a threat. It had come out flat like a psychologist asking a patient how a particularly bad memory made them feel.


    Lemmy ran a hand through his curly black hair. He wasn''t afraid. He was the one who had designed Greigs last three propulsion systems. If they got bought out, he''d probably be the last one to lose his job. Though it might have a bit of an impact on his nearly unlimited budget.


    "No, but I think I might start reading more books." He answered, picking up one of the volumes stacked on the table and thumbing through the pages.

 Chapter 1: Bad Air

    Harvel Gillis stared at the bottom of Lindons bunk, counting the spots of rust that were working their way through the thin sheet steel. Everything rusted down here. He suspected it had something to do with the air, and the millions of gallons of raw sewage flowing around them as they slept.


    Even the hinges of his glasses were starting to rust. He gave up on the spots for now. They''d have to wait until he could get some sort of chart going.


    He turned his head to stare out of one of the numerous tiny portholes that dotted the sides of the submerged pod. He didn''t know why he bothered. All you could ever see was a mixture of brown and green, with maybe a dash of yellow here and there. He''d have to chalk it up to boredom, with maybe a hint of escapism.


    He often imagined he was on board one of the many capital ships that lazily floated above the massive city of Boris-Valka. He''d never been aboard an airship of any kind so he wasn''t quite sure what he''d be looking at. The important bit was that he wouldn''t be three miles away from the stars in a ten by fifteen metal box.


    As on many occasions his imagination stopped there, a crumpled diaper bumping up against the plexiglass, throwing him back into sober reality. He shot a glance at Dibbuk sleeping in her oversized steel cot. She was listening to rain sounds so loudly that he could actually make out each time the simulated thunder broke out.


    He could never understand how she could sleep that much. Somehow, he could spend fourteen hours slogging through shit, and still only catch five hours or so of real sleep. Bukky on the other hand, could get 8 hours of solid rest, wake up for 20 minutes and like clockwork get in another 8, no problem.


    He was nearly as green as the sewage around them with envy. Nearly being the operative word here. He couldn''t imagine anything quite that green.


    If sleep were a commodity, Dibbuk would have been a millionaire. Meanwhile Harvel was nearly bankrupt. He often justified said poverty by blaming it on the quality of the air. By the time it was pumped down from the surface it was nearly as greasy and thick as good soup. He liked to imagine it would be served as a bisque, or maybe a chowder.


    Truth be told, he was shit at the whole sleeping thing to begin with. He had started having horrifying nightmares when he was about seven. Once he''d started getting used to them, he''d never quite gone back to normal.


    They weren''t the clearest nightmares. Mostly shifting lights and glimpses of unfamiliar flesh. If he got far enough into them, he would occasionally see a great monolith made up of some substance he couldn''t quite place. Honestly, they had stopped terrifying him years ago. Now, it only mildly annoyed him whenever he sweat through his sheets.


    He shifted his gaze over to the trio in the corner. He watched as Lindon, Merel, and Wicksomme passed around a bottle of Bullrutters Thiskey, a type of thickened whiskey primarily drunk by waste-walkers. He''d never been much of a fan himself. It reminded him of the cough syrup his dad made him take when he was a kid.


    In a rather odd turn of events, he''d heard that it was popular among the wealthy elite of central, as a sort of novelty. He couldn''t quite put his finger on it but something about that bothered him a little. It probably wasn��t worth dwelling on.


    A little too late, he realized he''d been staring for just a bit too long. He turned over and tried to make himself comfortable. They must have realized it too as he felt a slight nudge on the back of his shoulder. He turned over again to see Lindon holding out the bottle as an offer for him to take a drink himself.


    "Figured you might want a swig of the old bullfuckers Harv." Don Lindon said, jovially unscrewing the top of the bottle.


    Don Lindon was a stocky, older man with a short gray beard, stained yellow around his mouth from decades of chain smoking. Harvel suspected he might have been in his early sixties, but with the stress of this job he could''ve easily been in his early forties. He had a face like an aging alcoholic horse, with the personality of a negligent landlord.


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    Harvel palmed the little glass container and turned it over to read the paper label. He could just make out the word ''Bulfuchers'' with little umlauts above both u''s. Somebody had wanted to sound fancy.


    ''Oh, what the hell.'' He thought as he tipped a bit of the syrup into his mouth. It tasted like cinnamon mixed with vinegar and burned like battery acid. Suppressing a wretch, he quickly transferred the concoction away from his tongue and down his throat. That was a mistake.


    It moved like molasses, leaving a trail of anus withering fire all the way down his esophagus. He tried to sit up in case he felt it come back up, but before he could finish that thought, he slammed his head into Lindon''s bunk. Lindon reflexively snatched the bottle before he could spill any of his precious Bulfuchers. He began chuckling maniacally as he watched Harvel sputter and cough.


    "Christ, Don... Where do you... get this shit?" Harvel asked between coughs and labored breaths. Without a missed beat, Don gave him a rather forceful slap to the chest and continued chuckling.


    "Oh, you know me Harvey! I''ve always got a guy." He said after a bit of his mirth had subsided.


    ''And he always does somehow.'' Harvel thought, watching the man take a few large swigs of the foul Bulfuchers. Rumor was that Don had been kicked out of every bar and home brewery from the wall to Central, but he always had a bottle on him somewhere.


    After he''d managed to locate the air his torso had misplaced, Harvel asked "Who even sells shit like that Don? Mahone himself?"


    Don raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I wouldn''t drink anything sold by that bastard. It''s only Doc Parsons for me eh!" He bellowed, knocking back a few more shots worth of the bastardized whiskey.


    Harvel had to assume he meant water as well. He''d never seen Don actually touch any that wasn''t piss yellow and running around his boots. He was pretty sure Don would actually drink anything besides water. It was to the point where Harvel had started to wonder if he was internally hydrophobic.


    Don rolled his chair the measly six feet back over to the two sitting in the corner. Merel gave Don his own customary punch in the chest. "Don''t go getting our seeing eye dog sick on that shit. You okay there Harvey?" She asked, still giving Don a sour look while he rubbed his chest seemingly crestfallen.


    "Yeah, no problems here Mary." Harvel replied, still letting out a few coughs.


    "Good." She stated, her eyes never leaving Don.


    Philmina Merel could have been referred to as the squads mother. An older woman in her late forties, she was technically the junior engineer on the team. Junior only due to seniority. No one even knew how long Don had been a wastewalker.


    She had a face like a gravel road and a voice to match. Together they were quite the pair. Quite the pair in this case meaning that everyone suspected they had an ''agreement'' regarding sleeping situations outside of work.


    Not that it mattered really, they were both quite competent at their jobs either way. Admittedly, they were both only competent while at least one sheet to the wind. They seemed to have lost the other two, but you know how people are about keeping the last piece of a set.


    Most engineers were like that though. Anybody in the position that lasted more than a few seasons understood the glorious purpose of alcohol. They tended to outlive any other members of their teams tenfold.


    Engineers were the designated survivors. If things went truly south they were ordered to leg it back to base and leave the rest of the team to fend for themselves. Cruel some might say, but seeing as their skills were rare and specialized it made them the hardest to replace. Any engineer with the skills and intelligence to do the job right wasn''t nearly as likely to screw up enough to end up down here.


    He''d never bothered to ask Don or Mary about their fuck ups, or their previous teams. It just wasn''t something you did. You didn''t really ask anybody what they had done to end up in this job. Some were ex-cons, some were homeless, and some, like Dibbuk and himself, were just absolute fuck ups.


    ''Speaking of Dibbuk.'' Harvel thought, looking over at her. Expecting her to still be dead asleep, he was surprised to see one of her greenish yellow eyes cracked open. She seemed to be actively attempting to ignore them and failing. He shot her a covert smile and thumbs up before stretching his arms. Receiving the signal she turned over and reciprocated the gesture using a claw to scratch the rough scales on the back of her head.


    Wicksomme, the freshest of the faces in the room, decided to add to the conversation. "She gonna stay asleep like that all day? Don''t mean to sound critical but what if we get a call?" He asked, pointing a halfhearted finger Dibbuks way. Instead of giving him a direct response, Harvel went ahead and let the penny drop.


    "Well? Are you?" He asked, standing up and leaning on Lindons bunk. Dibbuk let out a long, low sigh, as she often did, vibrating the floor of the pod through her bunk. Shooting him a sleepy yet no less annoyed look, she heaved her legs off the cot.

 Chapter 2: "Thirteen hours of sleep?"

    "No, apparently not." Dibbuk murmured, seemingly disappointed at having to answer at all. At this point it should be noted that Dibbuk was a Tar-Khal. A sentient reptile race native to Liberum, and somewhat massive in size.


    About three times the size of a human, but pacifist in nature, the Tar-Khal looked somewhat like bipedal Komodo dragons. Dibbuk herself was a little small for a female Tar-Khal, only about 9 feet tall, and with blueish green skin that almost looked like scales. Even so, she was rather timid around humans, always believing she put them on edge.


    She was right. Harvel didn''t really like it, but she was right. As they came into work, he would often hear whispers of "Dino" or "Croc" as they passed. These being the general derogatory terms for the Tar-Khal in the city. As far as he was concerned, they all deserved a good working over.


    For one, the Tar-Khal were vegetarian, and the only recorded "attacks" had been the result of over enthusiastic high fives. Second, they all kept to themselves for the most part. People barely ever even saw them around the more human parts of the city anymore.


    Early on during the first settlement period, the Tar-Khal had found that it was easier to get along if they just did their own thing. They owned businesses, they built apartments, paid their taxes, and he could never really remember meeting one that he hadn''t liked. Dibbuk, her little brother Yiddek, and he hadn''t grown up in that part of town. They''d grown up in the Wharf.


    "Oh, c''mon Bukky. Don''t be too put out. You only got, what? Thirteen hours of sleep?" He said yawning.


    "As opposed to what? Two at most like yourself?" She grumbled massaging some feeling back into her legs. Something caught her attention. Wicksomme had begun shuffling over with the look of a man who''s poked a bear and was now wishing he was born without fingers.


    "Uh, sorry Dibbuk. Didn''t mean to sound overly critical." He said, apparently attempting to rub the back of his head hard enough to summon a genie.


    "Oh, it''s fine. I know you didn''t mean anything by it." She said, shooting him a reassuring smile. He didn''t seem very reassured.


    Wicksomme was the newest member of the team and had only been with them for about a month. A young man of only 22, he was tall and lanky, with a personality akin to wet bread. Harvel had always equated him to an apologetic hat rack. He tended to stand in corners and stare at people.


    This being his first pod week he was especially on edge. In the training academy they drill it into you that anything can happen in a pod week, and that you were to stay on your toes from the moment you arrived to the second you left. This wasn''t entirely untrue, though most of the calls they were sent out on turned out to be body recovery only.


    As ninety percent of all the teams had bio-monitors installed in their suits you knew ahead of time whether you were searching for warm or cold bodies. From experience in his training team Harvel knew that if the bugs got the upper hand they didn''t take prisoners. When you got the call they either said medical or body, in reference to which bag you should bring. Harvel still always brought both, in case a monitor was faulty.


    Getting a medical call was such a rare occurrence that the betting pool on the wall hadn''t changed since early last year. They kept track with a board covered in tallies. Medical had about four in total, the body section ran off the board. Only twice in the two and a half years he''d been on team 5 had they needed to leave the pod for a medical emergency. They''d made it a point to always check Lindons backpack for cans of beans after the second one.


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    The word cunning wasn''t a word you could use to describe Lombard Wicksomme. The word stupid didn''t quite work either, because he''d seen Wicksomme do some very intelligent things in the time he''d spent with him. He just did smart things for stupid reasons when nobody was looking.


    It was like the moment he thought nobody was watching he could relax, and his brain would resume after he''d had it on pause for hours at a time. Of course, this meant that this last pod week, and probably every pod week he participated in afterwards, his brain was practically frozen solid. This generally meant less than stimulating conversations and therefore compounded their boredom.


    As Wicksomme stuttered and rubbed his sweaty hands, his apologies started to run together. Both Dibbuk and Harvel''s eyes quickly developed a film of indifference. After a minute or two Wicksomme''s voice ticked up as if he''d asked a question. Quickly regaining his comprehension Harvel considered answering without really listening but decided otherwise.


    "Hmm? What was that bud?" He asked, rubbing his eyes back into focus.


    "Oh, I was just wondering if we ever get out of here early? I''ve got a date back up top that I''d like a little time to get ready for." Wicksomme trailed off, becoming even more embarrassed at the mere idea of human interaction.


    It was the seventh day of their stay down in pod 6, and while everyone was antsy to get out and back to the surface, they all knew there was no hope of an early escape. They had to wait for the next team to come down and relieve them of duty first, and unlike team 5, all the other teams tended to take their sweet time making the ride down.


    "Sorry bud, ''prolly gonna be a while still. Team 6 is on their way down, but we got at least another 4 hours before we get back up to the fresh air." He explained, putting on a sad little smile. Harvel attempted to look apologetic as he shook his head and patted Wicksomme on the shoulder.


    He''d have liked to have given the poor man some hope, but they''d never once gotten out early in the last two years. Harvel wasn''t particularly broken up about this fact. He had plenty of his own reasons to stay down here as long as possible. Though the name Posthumous Lier was at the top of his list.


    While Harvel was good at his job, he wasn''t so good about things like books. Particularly in the area of doing things by them. Captain Posthumous Lier was about as flexible as a pane glass window, with bars on it. Harvel was just as high on his list as he was on Harvels.


    Harvel dreaded every debrief he went through with the captain. It wasn''t that he yelled, or screamed, or threw things at him. It was that he knew exactly what Harvel had done, and why he had done it. This made a little sense, as Lier had been one of the best scouts in department history, but he always knew, even if Harvel didn''t.


    There had been a time when Harvel had seen him a lot like an older version of himself. He was a dedicated and truthful man, with no patience for mistakes. Lier didn''t seem to share this sentiment. He made that very clear nowadays. Usually in writing.


    Dibbuk interrupted his thoughts, snapping her claws in front of his face. "C''mon space-cadet, we''ve got to start packing up. We''ve only really got an hour until we start for the surface. You can ruminate on what kind of emails you''re going to get on the way." She said sliding on her oversized uniform overalls.


    "You''ve got a point." Harvel grumbled, pulling on an identical, but much smaller pair of his own.


    Strapping on their boots and getting their undercoats ready, they shifted around each other in unison like a well choreographed dance. They both packed their bags with an efficiency that would have made warehousing companies salivate. Within the hour they were both ready to exit the pod, their uniforms as clean as they had been when they had entered seven days prior.

 Chapter 3: "Hiya Harvey!"

    After a thirty minute longer wait than they had hoped, a knock rapped on the outside of the pod hatch. Harvel spun the wheel that sealed the door from the inside. He knocked on the hatch once and it was pulled open from above. To his dismay the first voice he heard was that of his least favorite person in the world.


    "Hiya Harvey!" exclaimed Selby Klagbender, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. "You had enough time in the can? Or should I just seal you back up and go get a drink?" He continued, his dashing good looks and roguish personality emanating from him in waves. Selby extended a hand down to him as an invitation of help. With some reluctance, Harvel took it and hauled himself up out of the hatch.


    With Selby beaming in that incessantly heroic way he always did, it was almost hard to notice the rest of team 6. Sure, being the most celebrated of the teams, they all had a bit of a glow to them but none so much as Selby Klagbender. With his bright blonde hair, quaffed to perfection, and his can-do attitude that made Harvel look like a depressed sloth, he outshone nearly everybody he came into contact with.


    It pained him to admit it, but Selby was the real deal when it came down to it. A hero of the wastewalkers, through and through. Even when they were alone in a room the worst thing Selby had ever said to him was that his fly was undone. He''d even been telling the truth.


    He''d actually been bunk mates with Selby during training. Getting their coats mixed up had probably been the one mistake Harvel had ever seen him make. It had been a rather fortunate mistake in the end but he didn''t hold it against him. Selby helped the rest of team 5 out of the hatch and dropped his own pack down the hole.


    "How was the ride down?" Harvel asked, genuinely curious. Selby stretched his back, a couple of muffled pops between his grunts.


    "Uh, bumpy honestly. The tracks in level 2 are starting to rust at the joints, so you get that grinding sound for about 35 minutes, halfway through the trip. Bring headphones is my only suggestion." He said positioning himself on the ladder.


    "Damn, and we''ll probably be the ones replacing those in a week or two." Said Dibbuk, stretching to her full height of nine feet. The members of both teams murmured in reluctant agreement. All the other teams knew team five got stuck with all the dirtiest and most dangerous jobs.


    The truth wasn''t that team 5 was bad at what they did, in fact it was quite the opposite. The only other team that held a candle to them in skill was team 6, but team 5 was well known to be the expendable one. Good enough to get anything done that team 6 could, but not quite good enough to not get killed doing it. Therefore team 5 was made up of a lot of 2nd bests. He was the second best scout, Dibbuk the second best tank bearer, Don and Mary the second best engineers, so on and so forth.


    Even with their bad reputation among most of the administration, Team 5 was at least respected among the rest of the fatburg teams. Even team six knew that while they were busy making promotional videos with huge, but benign, fatburgs in level 2, team 5 was on level 3, right underneath them, exterminating hundreds of davy ants as a distraction. It was a broken system, but it worked.


    The less people knew about how many people died down here the better. As it was, recruitment had dropped nearly thirty five percent in the last few years. Most newbies were convict service contracts like Harvel. Captain Lier had made a point of not letting them, or any of the other teams for that matter, forget that.


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    As Harvel and the rest of the team began preparing and loading their weapons he overheard a voice from the other team he was unfamiliar with. New members joined and dropped out regularly on most teams but team 6 was generally made up of static members. They didn''t get new faces often.


    "Is it going to fucking stink in there? They have a fucking dino on their team." The voice said from behind a much older, wiser member. Before Harvel could move Dibbuk placed her claw around his free arm. Selby, still on the ladder, gawped a bit before scrambling to get between Harvel and the man.


    "Harvel, no need to be rash. He''s new." Selby explained, turning Harvel around by the shoulder.


    "Oh, that''s very nice Selby. Does he know about the tradition where new recruits get their teeth knocked out?" Harvel asked, never taking his eyes off of the newbie.


    "Don''t." Dibbuk insisted, knocking on the top of Harvels helmet. She put her claw in front of his chest for good measure.Selby walked over to the more senior member and leaned in.


    "Get Sternum in the pod before Harvel knocks his, um, Bloch off would you? And, tell him to keep his mouth shut." He whispered, intentionally keeping his eyes off of the newbie Sternum. As the veteran member hurriedly shoved Sternum towards the hatch, Selby turned back to Harvel and Dibbuk.


    "He''ll be re-trained concerning his unprofessional language. Sorry about that." He apologized, shooting Dibbuk a sad smile.


    "I''m sure he will. Now, Harvel. Anything you want to say?" Dibbuk said, prodding Harvel in the back a few times.


    "I''m not sorry." Harvel said, watching as Sternums head dipped below the rim of the hatch.


    "Not that. Try again." Dibbuk said sternly.


    "Fine, it won''t happen again. Just keep him out of earshot of me will you?" Harvel said, sighing and sucking on his teeth. He truly would have liked to knock the mans head off, but that would have only meant an extended sentence. He''d really just wanted to scare the man.


    "Will do. Been getting a lot of ex rich kids coming down the pipe. Can''t see what Lier finds useful about them, but right now I guess we have to take who we can get. With a sense of self preservation that skewed I doubt he''ll last long down here." Selby said, shaking his head in disapproval.


    "Eh, he''ll learn hopefully. If not, I''d be glad to teach him." Harvel said, ducking to avoid the inevitable flick Dibbuk aimed at the back of his head. He listened to the tell tale swish of her claw missing and wondered why she still did it. He''d dodged the last five times she''d tried.


    "You guys take care. I''ve got some training to see to." Selby said, whipping himself onto the ladder again. Before he''d even gotten all the way down they could hear the beginning of an argument erupt from the hatch.


    As the rest of team 6 disappeared down into the hatch they exchanged assorted versions of "good luck" and "stay safe". As far as they were concerned it might be the last time they saw each other. Harvel lowered the hatch back down onto the opening and rapped on it twice. He heard a short two knocks back and then the wheel spinning into place to seal it up.


    Harnessing his pack to his body and zipping up the rest of his environment suit, Harvel directed the rest of the team to an immense steel staircase reaching up into the darkness. He racked his shotgun and clicked the safety into place, the former echoing around the blackness. It was going to be a long climb. It was going to be a long ride. It was going to be a long day. Hopefully he''d get some sleep on their way back up top.

 Chapter 4: "Definitely a metaphor."

    Harvel wiped the condensation from his glasses and yawned. He always slept on the cart ride back up to the station. He never managed to get too much sleep, at least not enough for the nightmares to start up. That usually happened at the three hour mark, but he was honestly just glad to catch any sleep when he could.


    He rubbed the side of his head with his palm. The steady, gentle, rocking motion of the cart had been interrupted by a violent jarring, causing Harvel to slip down from Dibbuks shin and slam his head on the floor. It had made a reverberating "Poong!" sound upon impact.


    ''Selby did mention rusted joints somewhere. Guess he wasn''t kidding about the rough ride.'' He thought while he watched Mary curse at the controls. Varying iterations of "Bullshit!" and "God damn it!" were coming in a steady stream.


    Mary gave up for a moment, throwing her hands up in frustration. She resumed fiddling with the panel for a second before kicking the controls. When that didn''t seem to work she gave Don, who had been sleeping in the corner, the same treatment.


    "Get up idiot. We got problems." She growled, her lips barely moving.


    Feeling slightly more refreshed than he had a few hours prior, Harvel put on a smile and attempted to shake Dibbuk awake. She shook her head drowsily and mumbled something incoherent. Harvel sighed, ''fuck it, might as well let her sleep until we get to the station.'' He thought, looking out of the cart window.


    Wondering what line they were on, Harvel glanced out of the carts porthole. The lights that lit the tunnel shone blue as they crept past. If they were on the blue line now, they''d have to switch over to the red line before they hit the five mile mark. Any further than that and they would start going in a circle.


    Don finally stirred almost a full minute after Mary had set her boot shaped alarm clock off into his side. "Ugh, we hit the switch station yet Mary?" He grumbled, still half asleep, or drunk. You could never tell with Don.


    "Uh, no. I think we''re still somewhere under Lamb street." Harvel interjected, pulling his pack off and setting it in front of him. He was starting to feel the little knot in his stomach that told him he was hungry. He rifled through its contents until he found the crumpled up fruit bar he''d thrown in a week ago.


    It was made of buunchal, a watermelon shaped fruit indigenous to the planet. His mom had always told him they tasted like pears but seeing as he''d never tasted a pear this made no real difference to him. She didn''t know what pears tasted like either. It was just what everyone said if you asked. He took a second to wonder if everyone just thought this was what pears tasted like. If anyone alive at this point had ever really eaten one.


    The bar was in pieces after its rough journey at the bottom of his pack. ''There might be some sort of metaphor here.'' He thought fiddling with the plastic. The fruit itself looked like it might''ve gone bad.


    ''Hmm, definitely a metaphor.'' He thought, as he tossed the pieces into his mouth and waited for Mary to fully stop the cart. He knew he''d have to be the one to check the rails. The cart ground to a halt just as he was popping the last piece into his gullet. Mary shook her head and sighed.


    "Harvel can you go check exactly what it is that''s making that noise? If the joints were just rusty we would be fine but something must be real fucked up for it to be that goddamn loud." She said still smacking the edge of the panel a few times for good measure.


    "Already ahead of you." Harvel replied, draping the strap of his shotgun over his shoulder and clicking on the flashlight. This sort of thing wasn''t all that uncommon. Both the carts and the rails were older than his family could go back in generations. They were about as reliable as the word of a used boat salesman.


    The boarding ramp of the cart opened to a pipe about the size of a triple decker bus. Harvel stopped the ramp at about half way and walked out to the edge, trying to not shake the cabin. He lifted his gun up to shine the flashlight on the rails. He could see rusted cracks running along the rail and off into the distance.


    "Well, I can see the rust, but I''m gonna have to go up top to find out what''s really wrong." He shouted back into the cabin, a grimace quickly forming on his face. He really didn''t like getting on top of the carts. The footing was bad and there was nothing besides the rail to hang on to if you slipped. Seeing as the rails were consistently coated in a thick greasy grime, hanging on to one was merely a pretense to falling.


    The environment suits they wore had a tethering unit built into them. He pulled the inch and a half thick tether out and hooked onto the middle rung of the ladder that led to the top of the cart. He climbed the rungs, nearly slipping on the second to last.


    Cresting the top of the cart he instantly understood what had happened. A fatburg from a pipe above them had gotten too heavy and broken through the top of the tunnel. It was laying on the rail and blocking the front right wheel from moving. It was most likely what had caused the rust as well.


    Harvel carefully made his way up and over to the affected wheel. It wasn''t so bad, but it had wrapped around the wheel itself. He pulled a canister of fast acting solvent from his chest pocket and sprayed the wheel and chunk of fatburg liberally. After a few seconds he realized that it wasn''t going to be enough to get the job done.


    Using the butt of his shotgun he tried to just knock the chunk out of the way with minimal results. Between the solvent and his regular strikes he could see that he was making some headway, but it was a long way from efficient. After a minute or so he stopped to catch his breath and immediately regretted it.


    He heard a sickeningly familiar clicking and chattering coming from behind the cart. He shut his eyes and slowly turned his head to see exactly what he had been fearing. At least six warrior davy ants were making their way toward the cart, and he knew there were more pouring in behind them. This was a very, very bad development for him.


    "Mary! Start the cart! We''ve got warriors incoming!" He shouted down into the cabin. He felt the carts engines roar into life as confirmation that she''d heard him. Harvel turned back to the wheel, resuming his strikes with frantic abandon. Through the sweat pouring into his eyes he could see the wheel beginning to move.


    He looked back for just a moment to check on the advancing ants. They were mere seconds away from the back of the cart. He didn''t have time left for caution.


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    "Fucking gun it! Fucking gun it!" He screamed back down into the cabin.


    The cart lurched like a beached whale and the wheel broke free. In his infinite wisdom, Harvel had forgotten to grab a better hand hold and the sudden motion of the cart made him lose his footing. He watched, in what felt like slow motion, as the cart seemed to pass right by him, before the tether snapped taught and pulled him along with it.


    He felt his side slam into the boarding ramp, still half open. Pain quickly spread along his left side like fire. With tears forming in his eyes he could see Dibbuk standing at the base of the ramp, about to make a grab for him. For a moment, hope of a safe but daring escape filled him. Then he noticed the hook on his tether was bending. With a barely audible "Ping" the hook snapped, and then he was falling.


    Harvel didn''t even have time to scream before he hit the thick sludge that lay at the bottom of the pipe. Sliding into the muck like a flailing meteor, he could almost make out the lights of the cart disappearing into the distance. He knew they wouldn''t be coming back. He was well and truly on his own this time. He immediately glanced behind him to see that most of the ants had seemingly given up chase.


    They must have moved at least a thousand feet from where they were stuck, as he could no longer see where the fatburg had broken through. He breathed a short sigh of relief before hobbling up onto his feet. This relief was short lived as he watched the sludge begin to shift around him. He knew what was coming, he just had no idea what to do about it.


    ''I am utterly fucked.'' was the only thought he could muster before it hit him. If the giant muck centipede hadn''t grabbed him first try he might have been able to run away, but he would only be so lucky. He held his breath as the giant tube of legs and pincers dragged him through the muck for a solid three seconds.


    It had grabbed him from the right side and was trying to cut him in half with it''s two massive mandibles. He had been extremely lucky as his shotgun was trapped in between his chest and the bastards jaw. He felt the centipede loosen its grip for just a moment as it chewed on his gun, and took the opportunity to curl up and wedge his feet into it''s maw. His shotgun was pinned to his chest and pointing away from the head of the 2 ton insect.


    He used what little power he had in his legs to pry open the jaws, just enough to allow the shotgun to slip under his armpit. He could feel the pain as the barbs of the centipedes pincer dug further into his back. It was now or never. Before it could attempt to drown him again, he used his elbow to break one of the antennae on the top of the monsters head.


    In the moment that the centipede reacted to the pain sandwich it had just inadvertently ordered, Harvel was able to slip his arm down and back, fumbling for the shotguns handle. He found the safety and clicked it out of place. With extreme force, he jammed the barrel into the bottom of the bastards head and pulled the trigger.


    All movement stopped in the matter of a second. Having closed his eyes in anticipation of a slow and painful death, Harvel wrestled himself free of the now limp centipedes grip before he could even open them. He felt each barb rip free as he did. He stood there for a second to catch his breath and try to calm down but his rage got the better of him.


    "Fuck you! Stupid! Fucking! Bug! Fuuuuuuck!" He screamed, punctuating each word with a forceful kick to the remains of the centipedes head.


    He slumped down onto his knees and panted, using the centipedes body to lay on. He could feel blood pooling in the back of his suit. The barbs had done exactly what they were designed to do.


    As much as he would''ve liked to just lay there and sleep, he remembered the ants. He couldn''t stay here. Not if he didn''t want to end up as ant shit. He knew they would come to investigate the commotion like any good neighborhood watch association.


    The ants aside, he felt like he was being watched. It wouldn''t be another centipede. They were lone predators, fiercely territorial, and as big as this one was it must have ruled this level for a few miles. He was surprised that the ants had even risked coming after them.


    He knew he had about 12 extra shells on him save for the four already loaded into the shotgun, but that wouldn''t do him too much good against the warriors. They each took three at the very least. His back was torn up pretty badly and at this rate if he didn''t get it looked at quick infection would set in. He checked his legs to make sure they still worked and grabbed his shotgun.


    As he wrapped the strap over his shoulder, he felt that something about the weapon was off. He held it up to his eye to sight in and realization dawned. The barrel was bent in at least a 15 degree angle. It must''ve bent when the centipede had tried to chew him in half the first time. It was a miracle that it hadn''t exploded as soon as he''d fired it.


    The feeling of being watched was still there. Like the hand of a large man wrapped around the back of his neck. He couldn''t tell if he was shuddering due to adrenaline or fear but it didn''t really matter at this point. He had to move either way.


    Begrudgingly thankful that he''d been (if only slightly) lucky, he made his way down the pipe. Keeping an eye on the sludge he trudged through and his shotgun ready, he stopped to listen every few hundred feet. It didn''t sound like the ants were after him. They most likely had found the centipede and were enjoying the spoils of his currently unfolding near death experience.


    The switch station was only about a mile and a half away and he figured he would reach it within an hour. Dibbuk and the rest of the team would probably be there posted up, waiting for him to make his way to them. If he managed to make it that far this might be a hell of a story.


    Even the scouts that had their names plastered all over the pump station had never taken down pedes by themselves. He might even get a few days off. He hoped.


    He had to stop a few times to catch his breath and to keep himself from losing consciousness. However much blood he was hemorrhaging from his back, it must have been more than he''d thought. Every step felt like he was throwing his legs at the ground. He only really stayed upright by locking his knees as he put weight on them. Any bend and he''d either lose his strength or his balance, and he didn''t need any more sewage in his pants.


    It took Harvel another 45 minutes but he reached the switch station faster than he had predicted. As he had hoped, he could see the cart parked just outside the switch station. Multiple large spotlights were shining down the tunnel, occasionally blinding him. He held up his arm to block the light, now settled directly on him.


    "Harvel! That you?!" He heard Dibbuk shout from behind the source of the light. Harvel was so tired he looked down to check.


    "Yeah! Think so!" He bellowed back, wiping some of the grime away from his jacket. He had only just noticed how much muck was caked to his entire person.


    He didn''t get any further response, but he did hear what must have been Dibbuk jumping down into the pipe. He would have sped up but with the punctures in his suit the cold had really started to seep in. He could barely feel his chest and he knew the muck had gotten in and was now semi frozen within his suit.


    He decided to save his energy and stood there. He only noticed that he was shaking when he looked down to see the large ripples emanating from his legs, still calf deep in waste. For the first time since he''d fallen off of the cart he had some time to actually process what had just happened.


    He hadn''t really felt fear while it was going down. At least, not as he understood it. He had just sort of reacted. He had been as close to death an hour ago as he had ever been. He hadn''t thought about that. He''d only thought about what to do next.


    ''That''s a good thing right? I mean it''s not like I''m not afraid of dying. I just didn''t consider it when it was about to happen.'' He thought, allowing gravity to finally set in and slumping down onto the curve of the pipe that was still dry.


    Dibbuk was getting close now, her rifle trained on the darkness behind him. He decided to leave all the deep thoughts for when he had time for them. For now, he decided he was tired. And hungry still for what it was worth. As he closed his eyes he felt Dibbuks claw close around his shoulders.


    "C''mon, we gotta get you to a doctor. What happened with the ants?" She asked, gently pulling him backwards, one arm still aiming the rifle.


    "No problem with ants. Caught by a centipede. Killed it. Walked back." He mumbled, his tongue lazily serving up the words. He was too tired for annunciation at the moment. His back was beginning to burn like hot coals in each wound.


    He tried to open his eyes but all he could see were the trails his boots were leaving in the muck.

 Chapter 5: Eyes with a voice

    Dibbuk dragged Harvel back towards the switch station as steadily as she could. He wasn''t heavy mind you. She could have practically chucked him the rest of the way if she''d wanted to. This not being an option, she settled for squeezing him firmer than absolutely necessary.


    Harvel getting hurt was nothing new to her at this point. Only a year ago a can of solvent had exploded, burning nearly all the flesh from his forearm in the middle of a fatburg clearing. His left forearm had looked a little like what you got when all the cheese slid off a slice of pizza. When the treatments were finished it had looked like when someone hastily tries to pile it all back on before it gets cold.


    This muck-brained idiot had told Mary to take off before any of them had even known what was going on. The first thing she had noticed upon waking up was the smell. The second, was all of the screaming. All of it had smashed her in the face so hard she could have filed charges.


    ''Everything had gone to hell and, where were you? Of course, you were asleep. They had needed you, and you were asleep.'' She thought, as she approached the station platform.


    She watched as the medical team cart came flying into the other side of the station. They skidded a bit as they stopped. She waited as patiently as she could, applying pressure to Harvels back. She couldn''t risk trying to pull him up the 20 foot ladder and making whatever was wrong with him worse.


    The medics reached the edge of the platform and rappelled down the side. Dibbuk glanced at the nearby ladder, a bit confused. The medics expanded a stretcher out between the two of them. They pulled him on and strapped him in, with what looked like one smooth motion.


    As Dibbuk grabbed Harvels shotgun and headed for the ladder, the medics both hooked the rappel lines to their backs. Securing the stretcher to rings protruding from the sides of their waists, they yanked on the lines in unison. They ascended to the platform within a matter of seconds, the little pullys at the top making a sound like a phone book being sliced in half.


    Dibbuk waited as they rushed into the cart and took off at unnaturally high speed. She sighed once more, letting her hands drop down into the muck, still holding onto Harvels shotgun and her assault rifle. She watched as the flow danced around her knuckles, ribbons of crimson mixing with the green water. ''This damn job is going to be the end of us.'' She thought, lifting her brothers shotgun and inspecting it.


    ''It''s bent like a drinking straw for fucks sake.'' She thought, passing a claw over the kink in the metal. For a moment, the composition of the air seemed to shift, like ionization produced by an electrical arc. She lifted her gaze and tried to see further down the tunnel. Her reptilian eyes strained themselves to confirm what she knew was there.


    There was something sitting, seemingly waiting, at the very edge of the light. Something darker than the blackness around it. She could feel it staring at her, like a hound laser focused on a meal just outside of its reach. After a second, she realized that what it was truly staring at. Harvels shotgun.


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    Just a bit more curious than she was frightened, Dibbuk pulled a flare from her breast pocket and lit it. The bright green light it emanated bounced around the glistening walls of the pipe. Tossing the flare down the pipe with practiced aim, it landed exactly where she had seen the darker shadow.


    There was nothing there. Where she had sensed the thing was, sat only a slightly larger pile of muck than the rest. The flare had lodged itself in the heap, like a single candle on the worlds saddest birthday cake. Dibbuk let out a nervous little chuckle at the thought. Still a little uneasy, she trekked back to the ladder and pulled herself up onto the platform. Mary was in the middle of working the transfer station controls so they could all finally go home.


    "What''d you do all that for?" Lindon asked, staring out at the flare in the distance.


    "Oh, uh, thought he might''ve dropped something. Guess I was wrong." Dibbuk replied, a bout of nervous laughter punctuating the end of her statement.


    Lindon didn''t believe her, she could tell by the way he sucked on his teeth, but what was she going to say? I think something tried to kill my brother and it wasn''t just a giant muck centipede? Nah, she''d just end up in some sort of seminar about pipe madness or ptsd. Not that those weren''t very real issues, they just didn''t apply here. She hoped.


    "Well, let''s just get back to base and everyone can calm down. Wicksomme hasn''t stopped sweating since he woke up, mid-crises." Lindon said, nodding his head toward the drenched young man standing as close to the cart as he physically could.


    Dibbuk nodded in agreement as she strapped Harvels shotgun to her pack. Lindon sauntered over to Wicksomme and tried offering him a drink. This was about as close as Don got to what you might call emotional support.


    The cart was dropped into place on the red line rails and Mary opened the hatch. Wicksomme zipped into the cart so fast Dibbuk wasn''t sure she saw his boots leave the ground. Lindon and Mary both followed him with significantly less zeal.


    As Dibbuk moved toward the cart she felt a pull in the back of her mind. She hesitated to comply with it but gave in after a second of somber deliberation. She gave a final glance down the pipe, focusing on the distant green twinkle of the flare. Though they were designed to last over an hour, the flare began to sputter and spit green sparks.


    The sputtering and sparks continued for a moment as if the little flare was fighting for its very existence. Then, like a boxer leaning on the ropes before the final blow, it dimmed, then it was gone. The blackness returned like a great wall blocking any view of what was behind it.


    There were five sets of lights between Dibbuk and the flare. Then there were four. Then three, then two. One by one the sets of blue lights running along the pipe began to fizzle out. When it had reached the last set of lights, merely fifty feet away from the platform, it stopped.


    It had stopped, and now it stared. She couldn''t tell how, but she knew it was staring. She could feel its eyes.


    They said, "Nice try. Don''t try it again, thank you very much." The eyes had a voice.


    With that last polite, if albeit thinly veiled threat, Dibbuk got the message. She turned, walked into the cart, shut the hatch, and tried not to look anyone in the eye. She''d just been privy to the weirdest course of events in her, at this point, short life, and didn''t want anyone to know just how loudly she was screaming on the inside.

 Chapter 6: "Fughing Thenipeeb"

    Harvels eyelids felt as if they were made of sand paper, his eyes an unfinished wood floor. He could see the white, occasionally yellow stained, ceiling of the pump station infirmary above him. Indistinct shapes of people, their faces blurred like an amateur watercolor painting, were moving around at the foot of his bed.


    His back felt like someone had pounded on it with a hammer. The ribs on his left side weren''t much better off it seemed. Every breath felt like he was pulling his ribcage open, then letting it snap back into place when he was done. His options were between being in pain, or being in slightly less pain. Not a lot of variety there, but the false sense of personal choice was nice to have.


    After shining his eyeballs until they practically gleamed, he tried to speak. The anesthetic he was on must have been good because all he got out was: "Fughing thenipeeb." before he gave up and concentrated on breathing again. ''Fucking centipede'' He finished, allowing his thoughts to include every drop of extra venom his tongue had denied him.


    Through the haze, he allowed the uninhibited portions of his brain to meander along. This was a fine mess he''d gotten himself into this time. He had insurance, he knew, but it wasn''t very good by any measure of the word. He was still paying off the bills from the solvent incident last year.


    He could only imagine just how large the bill was going to be. How long had he been out? Just how fucked was his back? Would he even be able to go back to work at all? He heard the EKG machine begin to speed up as he let the possibilities swirl around in his brain.


    The largest of the shadowy forms which had been previously shifting around the room, came into focus as it approached the machine. It didn''t take more than the hint of yellowish orange skin for Harvel to know who it was. He was suddenly in much better spirits. It had been far too long since he''d seen his brother.


    "Iddech!" Harvel flubbed, a goofy smile spreading across his face. He tried to shift his head using his limited motor skills, putting a little too much force into it and whipping his temple into the handrail. As things were this left him somewhat unfazed.


    "Ok bud. Aaaalrighty then, lets just, uh huh, yep, just uh. There you go." Yiddek said, using his claws to gently shift Harvels head back onto his pillow. Harvel immediately undid all of his work, grabbing Yiddeks arms and pulling himself up.


    "Buggy! Buggy? Bubby?... Waiy, no... Uh... Buddy! Thas duh won... I kiwd... a zenipeeb." He gibbered, spraying spittle on Yiddeks fingers.


    "Yeah bud, you did didn''t you?! You got that centipede well and good! Now, just lay down and stop giving me an impromptu shower." Yiddek replied, peeling Harvels hands away carefully and lowering him back onto the bed.


    Harvel didn''t quite understand his aversion. Personally, he would have really enjoyed a shower right about now. He had the sneaking suspicion that he was well overdue.


    "I''m gonna lower your anesthetic a bit so you can talk. You gonna be alright with that?" Yiddek said, patiently waiting for his response.


    "Huh? Oh... Oh yeh, I guesh." Harvel replied, giving an exaggerated nod. As much pain as he was in, he was starting to get annoyed with the feeling of being a set of eyeballs floating through the cosmos. Yiddek promptly started tapping away on the little console. As Yiddek was throttling his happy juice, another shadowy form entered at the far end of the room.


    "Doctor Valez, Mr. Gillis'' insurance agent wishes to talk to you." Said a voice that must have been one of the nurses.


    "I''ll be right there." He replied, pushing up the tiny reading glasses he wore on the tip of his snout. As he turned to leave, Harvel gave him a noodle armed salute.


    "Goob lunk Docker!" He barked, his hand flopping back down onto the bed. Yiddek tried to hide a smile and failed.


    "I''m gonna need it too. You''ve got a persistent one this time. She''s from Central." Yiddek said, lumbering out through the doorway.


    At this point Harvel was, for the most part, mentally functional. He just found his new partial speech impediment to be somewhat comical. But, seeing as the numb mouthed idiot shtick had pretty much run its course, he decided to settle down.


    It had been long enough that he''d nearly forgotten Yiddek was now his primary doctor. He''d nearly torn Harvels head off when he had learned about the acid thing. The truth was, Harvel wasn''t the smartest and had never asked if Yiddek could even take him on as a patient without the sufficient number of zeroes behind his yearly salary.


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    Being a member of a private care group, Yiddek primarily catered to the city''s wealthier residents. Him coming down to patch up a seemingly random waste-walker was very out of the ordinary. Insurance agents didn''t like out of the ordinary very much. It always meant extra paperwork.


    After about an hour, Harvel was finally starting to feel his face again. He tried to let his mind wander, but his thoughts kept coming back to what had been watching him in the tunnel. He''d known it was there, but he knew he hadn''t seen it. He''d felt it. In his mind he''d felt it, almost as much as he couldn''t feel his face at the moment.


    He could still feel it now, watching him, waiting for him to slip up. On what he wasn''t exactly sure. He couldn''t even walk at the moment. He still didn''t know if it had wanted him dead, or hurt, or just plain terrified. Whatever it was, he couldn''t shake the feeling that it wasn''t done with him. Not by a long shot.He knew that he wasn''t done with it either. Whatever it was, it must have had something to do with the giant centipede.


    ''And another thing.'' He thought, ''That goddamn centipede was huge. Most are the size of a couple davy ants at best, but that fucker must have been the size of one of those little trains my mum let me ride at the mall as a kid.''


    He recalled it being a pleasant memory, until he''d soiled himself the same day. His mother had told him that, if he soiled his new Rat-Man underpants, he would come out of the nearest sewer to scold him. Her only mistake was underestimating just how much Harvel had wanted to meet Rat-Man. To Harvels dismay, she had decided to scold him Rat Mans absence.


    Two years ago, he''d entertained the thought that he could become Rat-Man himself down in the sewers. This obviously wasn''t the case, but it had been a little dream of his either way. Rat-Man stood for justice and honor. He fought sentient and overtly sexual ant queens with big burly warrior ants for henchmen.


    Harvel very well knew that this wasn''t the reality. He''d helped exterminate a queen''s nest in his first year and there had been a distinct lack of nearly exposed breasts and gogo boots. He''d mostly remembered the horrific smell and screeching noises she''d made when they''d melted her.


    ''And what have I fought in the last two years huh?'' He thought, ''A big fuck off centipede, and the increasing urge to spray a can of solvent in my mouth. Some super-hero I turned out to be.''


    As this last thought passed through Harvels mind, Dibbuk peeked her head around the doorway. Noticing that he was conscious she let the rest of her body follow.


    "Good, you''re somewhat among the living again." She said, arms wide in feigned surprise. Her smile slowly faded.


    "You look sad. Why do you look sad? You just beat a centipede and death itself, why aren''t you happier?" She asked, noticing his downtrodden expression.


    "Uh, nothing, just some stuff I was thinking about. Did you say death itself? What''s that supposed to mean?" He replied, looking around, a slightly hunted look about him.


    "Well, you did. Medics said you flatlined on the way up. Yiddek said it happened again an hour after you got here. You just sort of stopped living for a minute, and then you were back. Like a switch flipping on and off or something. At least, that''s what Yiddek said about it." She explained, watching his face for any sort of change.


    There was an odd tone she was using that Harvel didn''t particularly like. Whenever he shifted his weight her eyes would follow him, searching for some sort of irregularity. She had the same stern, focused, look as his 4th grade teacher had when she''d caught him looking at naughty photos, and knew he wasn''t the one who''d brought them.


    Harvel tried not to eye her too suspiciously given the circumstances. She knew something. Something about the incident he wasn''t aware of. He knew he would have to coax it out of her somehow. Dibbuk wouldn''t just give it up if she thought him compromised in some way. He thought this over as he adjusted his hospital gown.


    "I''m sorry, do you think I''m possessed or something?" He asked, abandoning his idea of being subtle or clever. Subtle or clever had never really worked with him.


    Dibbuk relaxed a bit. ''What sort of ghost would have to be desperate enough to possess Harvel?'' She thought, slumping back down in the two chairs she was currently occupying. This was all giving her a headache. She''d been watching too many ghost hunting shows lately, and she was far too tired for this.


    "Shut up. I''m serious, there is something else down there. Something that''s-" She started.


    "Watching me?" Harvel finished, giving her a knowing look.


    "Yo- you know about it?" She asked, fumbling a bit. "You know about the thing in the dark?"


    Harvel had assumed he was the only one who had noticed. "Yeah, kind of. I never saw it though. Only felt it. Like it was waiting for me or something. How do you know about it?" He asked, a grave look passing over his face. If it wasn''t just him then it couldn''t be pipe madness, the thought of which he''d previously entertained multiple times on his trek back through the tunnel.


    Dibbuk recounted all the events that had taken place after the medics had carted him away. Harvel listened, stone faced until she had finished. There was something about her story that felt more out of place than the rest of it.


    "Was it really that polite? When you heard it staring at you, I mean. Did it really say; ''thank you very much''?" He asked, genuinely puzzled. He hadn''t remembered it being very polite when it was trying to kill him.


    "Well, it stared at me quite... politely, alright?" She replied, a little confused herself. Had she heard it? No, she remembered feeling it or seeing it. It was less like a sound than it was a feeling, but she''d remembered the words. Somehow, she remembered the words.

 Chapter 7: "Dome sweet dome."

    As Dibbuk wrestled with the reality of her experience, Harvel tried to figure out what, within his scope of knowledge, could have been the cause of the events. He''d always tried to tell Dibbuk that the monsters in all of the old books she read weren''t real. But now? He was quickly becoming unsure of the validity of that sentiment.


    "Have you told anyone else? The team? Yiddek?" Harvel asked, the concern leaking into his normally steady voice.


    "Do you think I''m insane?" She replied, drawing a spiral around her head. "I''d never be that stupid. That''s more your thing if I remember correctly."


    Harvel gave her an accusing look. "What''s that supposed to mean? You''re the one not-exactly-but-kind-of hearing voices in your head." He barked, defiantly crossing his arms. Before their sibling spat could play out any further Yiddek waltzed in holding a rather large false leather binder.


    "Ah, Bukky! Great news, you''ve been cleared for duty. Harvel, on the other hand, will be hanging out with me for a little while." He said, unzipping the binder and removing a touch tablet.


    "What exactly is a li-" Harvel began, but Yiddek cut him off.


    "That means, you''re gonna be laid up for a few weeks at the least. And you''re coming with me back to my office." He said, handing Harvel the now powered up tablet. It displayed a wall of text dense enough to produce its own gravitational pull.


    Harvel took the tablet and looked for a page to sign, this being the customary way he dealt with all the paperwork he came across. From the page count at the bottom, four hundred and seventy-three to be exact, he knew he was going to be searching for a while. From the few words he recognized it looked like transfer of care papers. As he scanned the lines and lines of litigation speak, his brain caught up with his ears.


    "Wait. Did you say I was going to your office?" He asked, his mouth hanging open a bit.


    "Ah, yes. I can''t stay down here for the whole time you''re laid up in bed, so I''m having you transferred to the central office. Gotta get back to dome sweet dome, as it were." Yiddek replied, slipping the tablet out of Harvels hands and furiously swiping through the pages.


    He handed the tablet back, Harvels mouth still agape. "You''re gonna want to sign that one. It says we can''t use your body for explosives testing if you die." He said, tapping a claw at a line now in the middle of the screen.


    Harvel drew an x with his finger on the box that read: "Explosive or concussive testing op out." He signed his name next to it on the little dotted line. He was sure he''d seen something about acid earlier too. He tried to put this to the side in his mind for the time being.


    "Wait, wait, wait, the dome? You''re sending me to the dome?" Harvel asked, shaking his head in apt disapproval. Yiddek looked a little taken aback.


    "What''s wrong with the dome? I live in the dome, you know." He asked, a little sheepishly.


    "Well, it��s just, that place kind of creeps me out man. Too clean. It gives me goosebumps just looking at the damn thing." Harvel said, taking a moment to glance out of the window at an imposing silhouette off in the distance.


    The Dome was the common term for the Tilio Dome. It was a large, cone shaped structure that enclosed the center of Boris-Valka, open at the top to allow the remnants of the first capital ships to crest the horizon.


    It was clean, too clean by Harvels standards. Apartments and offices lined the inner walls of the massive, stark white, eyesore. It was the type of place that didn''t have any real rules denying anyone entry, but anyone who felt they didn''t belong there avoided the building like a pineapple enema.


    He''d had to visit the dome when Yiddek graduated from the medical academy. He''d put on his best suit and done his hair, but it had only taken a second for him to know he didn''t belong. He had felt every eye in a five-mile radius peering down their perfectly sculpted noses at him. To them, the people outside of the dome weren''t "proper folk".


    The dome sense of style changed nearly every month, but they all managed to wear the same clothes almost all the time. They all owned the same expensive air vehicles, just in slightly different shades of black, gray, and white. And what irked Harvel the most was the food. It was colorful and pretty, well laid out and neat, but the moment it touched your tongue, you realized it tasted as if someone had only mildly suggested spices as an ingredient.


    ''Why spend all of your time working your ass off to live there if all of the good food was miles away where all of the poor bastards lived? Maybe that''s why they drink Bullrutters. By comparison, all of their alcohol must taste like weak breakfast tea.'' He thought, a slight shiver running down his spine.


    Harvel looked at Yiddek, who was giving him that "I know what''s best for you and you know it." Doctors stare he''d developed in recent years. He sighed and sucked his teeth in annoyance. He hated that stare. His little brother wasn''t so little anymore and all of a sudden he actually did know better. There was really no helping it.


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    "Fine." He said, allowing himself to pout a bit.


    "Wonderful, just wonderful." Yiddek agreed, realizing he''d won out.


    "But I''m not wearing any of their stupid clothes. They''d only make me look like a shaved bear in a clown suit anyways." Harvel commented, miming the action of said bear happily juggling chainsaws.


    "That''s fine." Yiddek replied, arms wide with reluctant acceptance, his excited tone slightly diminished. "You''ll be in a hospital gown the whole time anyways. Plus, we can eat together. I know you hate the food around there and the stuff the hospital serves is the same with even less flavor. We can catch up a little too. I feel like I barely know what you do anymore." He continued, eyes hopeful.


    ''I get attacked by fucking centipedes and slog through shit.'' Harvel thought, but he kept it to himself. It wasn''t his brother''s fault he worked in a nice, shiny building. He''d worked hard to get where he was. Harvel knew he didn''t deserve to have his embitterment directed towards him.


    It wasn''t like Yiddek was the one who had decided to descend the ladder of society. Harvel just hated having to look up at the people on the rungs above him. They had much cleaner shoes.


    "I don''t think that sounds so bad. A couple weeks away from work is probably a good thing for you," Dibbuk interjected, leaning back in her chairs, the remarkably flexible steel giving a little whine. "You can catch up on your reading." She added. Harvel glowered at her.


    ''She knows I don''t read.'' He thought. He slid down the slope of the bed a little, attempting to out-relax her.


    He realized this was a mistake later than he would''ve liked. He had to stop himself from doing an impression of the aforementioned chairs, his back becoming a sea of pain. The anesthetic might have worn off more than he''d thought.


    "Fine! Fine. Fine, I''ll go." He answered, deciding to let out the yelp he''d been keeping in with slightly more finesse. ''You are the big brother, after all. You definitely wouldn''t have cried otherwise.'' He told himself, attempting to pass his outburst off as a show of authority.


    Both Yiddek and Dibbuk raised the scaly crests above their eyes in the universally recognized expression of "Oh really now?".


    "Well, that settles it. Sign this." Yiddek announced, passing back the tablet. He''d spent the last few seconds auto-flipping through the last four hundred and twenty two pages of documents while Harvel had been ruminating.


    "What about all the other stuff I should have signed?" Harvel asked, a slight quiver of fear in his voice.


    "Naaaaah!... Don''t worry about it. Mostly stuff about burial rights and who to make checks out to. Stuff we''ve already got on paper for you." Yiddek answered, waving a claw in a cyclical motion.


    Harvels eyes darted from one sibling to the other a few times, before settling back down on the tablet. There were three options, Yes, No, and Other. Harvel decided not to question it.


    He traced the little x with his finger next to the yes option, and signed his name on the line below it. He had a slightly bad feeling about this, but it was nothing compared to that feeling of being watched. Maybe Dibbuk was right. He needed some time away from the sewers. It wouldn''t do him any good to sit here thinking about whatever the hell was down there.


    "Before I go, can I get a quick shower in? I don''t normally smell like raw sewage and it''s not something I intend to get used to." Harvel asked, passing the tablet back.


    "If you say so." Dibbuk interjected, inciting a scowl from Harvel.


    "Well, I wouldn''t recommend it. Your stitches are still fresh so they could tear." Yiddek answered, ignoring his sister''s off-hand comment. "Whether they do or not, I can guarantee it will hurt like a mother fucker." He added, mimicking a pair of scales with his claws.


    Harvel thought about this for a moment. He remembered just how much it had hurt to move earlier and wasn''t keen on refreshing said memory. But, he was pretty ripe, and though they had definitely gotten most of him cleaned up while he was unconscious, he could tell there were spots they had missed.


    "You know what? Just get me a damp towel and some privacy and I should be alright." He said, a little bit embarrassed. He knew that as a professional Yiddek wouldn''t dare laugh at him, but there were some things a man just wanted to be alone for. With complete understanding, Yiddek nodded and exited the room. Dibbuk stood up and stretched a bit.


    "Well, I''ve got to get back to the station. They''re getting a couple of the teams together to go take care of the burg above the blue line. They already found the centipede and took care of the warriors so I don''t think they''re going to need to debrief you for a bit. In the meantime I''m going to look into any rumors about whatever that thing was." Dibbuk stated, carrying her chairs back into the corner of the room, and bending them back into their original shape.


    "Yeah, I don''t know how much luck you''ll have with that. As far as I know there have never been any stories of ghosts or anything else down there." Harvel said, a bit dejected. He knew that the wastewalkers were suckers for gossip, but ghost stories? If you work in a place where anything living can kill you, you don''t tend to worry too much about the dead. Dibbuk shrugged her shoulders.


    "Dunno. Either way I might scrounge up something weird or two. Won''t hurt to try." She said as she trundled out of the open doorway.


    ''Won''t hurt to try.'' Harvel thought, a little skeptically. ''Depends on what you mean by hurt I guess. Walking around the station asking about ghost stories could get plenty of eyes on you that you would rather not.'' He continued speculating.


    He was sure Dibbuk would be just fine physically. Even though everyone knew the Tar-Khal were pacifists, they still had arms thick as steel beams and claws that could palm a caf�� table. Nobody in their right minds would gamble on whether an overly forceful high five was considered violence to them or not.


    No, Harvel was worried she''d draw too much attention to herself for her to be comfortable in the station ever again. Dibbuk had a tendency to be a bit anti-social among the other humans. Of course, she had plenty of reasons. He just didn''t want the list to get too long.

 Chapter 8: Pump Station 6

    Dibbuk lumbered out into the infirmary wing of the pump station. She hunched as she passed through the door, still lightly bumping the crest of her head. She could never quite get used to having to crouch wherever she went. If the Tar-Khal were in any way prone to back problems she would have looked like her father by now.


    The fatburg team locker rooms were across the station, on the bottom level of the basement. Her safe haven if you will. No team member ever looked at her sideways down there. They were all just poor sods once they put on their gear.


    She could feel the eyes of the office staff on her skin like blisters beginning to form. It wasn''t that she assumed they were bad stares really, Harvel had done the same when they had been first introduced. As it was though, the difference between "curious" and "cunt" was located behind their corneas, and as such, was significantly less apparent.


    With every corner she rounded, a new set of eyes would lock onto her like some sort of missile defense system. As on edge as she was, she nearly put a hole in the roof when her arm vibrated. She took a second to steady herself before glancing at the little display projected from her phone implant. It read "Chromeo" in blocky orange lettering.


    "Ugh, probably trying to sell me another software package." Dibbuk murmured, remembering the last time she''d been roped into a new operating system.


    Dibbuk waved away the call, letting it send him to voicemail. She didn''t have the energy to deal with another annoyance at the moment. Not to mention she had to get down to the lockers for the big meeting with Lier.


    She figured that team 5 wouldn''t be doing anything too involved, what with being a member down at the moment, but you never quite knew with the captain. Captain Lier hadn''t been happy about the railway incident one bit. This was to be expected seeing as he never entered a state any more jovial than moderate apathy.


    The first thing he''d done during their debrief was walk into an adjacent room and scream in frustration. The second thing was walking back in with a completely straight face. Dibbuk figured you got like that when every piece of news you received was bad news.


    They''d gotten a little piece of it. Sleeping wasn''t exactly a prime way to react to an emergency stop. Team 6 had been waiting outside of the door when they came out. Their decision to ignore the rust on the tracks on the way down was a key point within the screaming she''d overheard from outside. They had also taken much longer to reach the point of impact with the fatburg than was excusable.


    If they were travelling at emergency speed they should have intercepted Harvel long before he''d reached the switch station. She''d been pretty angry about that little detail herself. When she''d first caught sight of them outside of Lier''s office she had almost clotheslined the lot of them under the guise of reading a wall placard. The whole reason they were down in that damn pod in the first place were situations exactly like this.


    While she had elected to keep her claws to herself, she''d given in a bit and had served Selby a slight shoulder check before he''d walked in the door. Though she''d said "Excuse me." she''d meant "Go fuck yourself."


    Selby hadn''t said anything back, but when they''d locked eyes after she could almost feel the self-loathing rolling off of him. Selby had never fucked up this bad and he knew it. He had almost looked sickly if she was being entirely honest.


    Dibbuk might have felt bad for him if she hadn''t been as furious as she was. She hadn''t overheard their reasoning, but the fact that they had taken nearly an hour and a half to get there was odd enough. Selby didn''t have anything against Harvel as far as she knew and was probably wholly unaware of Harvels distaste for him in the first place.


    So, why? Team 6 was full of competent members, and there''s no way they wouldn''t have received the distress signal. At any rate, there was no way Selby of all people wouldn''t have jumped at the chance to rescue a fellow waste-walker. The promise of savior status would have put him into a glory and valor coma. As far as she understood anyway.


    As Dibbuk entered the locker room a boot slammed into the lockers to her left. This wasn''t much of a surprise to her. The boot-shaped dent had been repainted at least three times since she''d started here, and it was starting to flake again.


    "How, exactly, and I want the right answer this time, did we not notice the burg sooner? And for that matter how did we miss the rust on the god damned track?" Captain Lier said, standing in front of a group of engineers.


    One of the more senior looking engineers slowly raised his hand. Lier just stared at him for a second before asking, "Well, Burdock?"


    "Uh, because we were fucking off?" The engineer now known as Burdock answered, a little sheepishly.


    "Finally! A valid answer. That''s two less demerits for Burdock." Lier said, a vicious grin spreading upon his face as he gave him a little golf clap.


    "But, we don''t have demer-" A much younger engineer started to say, before Burdock slammed his hand over the mans mouth. Burdock, wide eyed, gave him a desperate head shake, illustrating the severity of his potential mistake. The recruit the thrown boot had belonged to hopped one footed over to the doorway, and Dibbuk handed the nervous kid his boot back.


    "You might want to keep it off for now. He might need it again." Dibbuk said, watching the man try to slip on the boot without his sock touching the eternally damp floor. Another boot slammed into the locker, causing another recruit to start the arduous journey to the back of the room. Dibbuk caught it before it hit the ground.


    "Oh, you might be alright actually. He usually only needs two." She said, tossing the freshly thrown boot back to the other recruit.


    Dibbuk scanned the room, spotting the rest of team 5 sitting in a huddle to the right of Lier. Dibbuk didn''t need to catch their attention, it was a talent of hers to be noticed wherever she went. As she made her way over to them, Lier, having finished admonishing the engineers, trained his laser focus her way.


    "Valez! How''s Gillis faring?!" He shouted, trying to sound as kind as he ever had, quickly putting down the finger he had reflexively pointed her way.


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    "Not dead yet, sir." Dibbuk answered, having to keep herself from straightening up and ramming her head into the ceiling.


    "Good, that''s good. Uh, order him to keep it that way." He said, lowering his voice a little. He didn''t want this small show of affection to ruin his reputation.


    "Of course, sir." Dibbuk responded, giving Lier a little nod, indicating she''d understood his subtext.


    This was a bit new to Dibbuk. She had always suspected that the captain held a special place for Harvel somewhere in his heart. A special, dark, vinegar and ant filled place, but a special place none the less. The fact that it might not be that bad of a place was the real news.


    Dibbuk carefully picked her way through the rest of the crowd, using as many iterations of "Excuse me." And "I''m sorry." As she could come up with.


    "Ah, Dibbuk, what a sight for sore eyes. Come, have a seat." Mary spouted, as Dibbuk made her way towards their bench. She looked tired, more so than usual, Dibbuk noted. She knew Mary had children, exactly how many Dibbuk hadn''t bothered to keep track of, but she knew what a well overworked woman looked like.


    Mary was one of the most outspoken, yet caring, individuals Dibbuk had ever met. When the solvent incident had gone down, she''d lent Dibbuk and Harvel nearly half a months salary to help them out. Harvel had insisted on paying it back in triplicate. Dibbuk had been a little confused when he''d explained it to her, but according to him it was something their dad had taught him.


    "You get more bees with honey than with vinegar." He''d said. Dibbuk was unable to confirm this seeing as she didn''t know what a bee was, but with time she had come to understand.


    Mary treated her like a daughter not a lizard. The last two years had been just about the most educational she''d ever had. Mary had a wisdom to her that was fueled by years of fire, along with a few decades of ice behind it.


    She was cynical, crude, and could be off putting at times but there was nothing like one of her pep talks to bring Dibbuk out of whatever slump she was in. She couldn''t see much of that fire now. It was diminished by the sad smile seemingly nailed in place on her face.


    Dibbuk gave her a reassuring look. She could wager a guess that Mary felt at least somewhat responsible for what had happened to Harvel. She wasn''t, Dibbuk knew, but there wasn''t much of a chance of her convincing Mary otherwise. What would she say? "It was a ghost"? That would never do her any good.


    Dibbuk could see more of the faces lined up on the benches around the room from her new vantage point. She could pick out most of team 6, scattered amongst the crowd. They all had these haunted looks on their faces, like they''d spent a night fighting off someone else''s personal demons, and couldn''t quite forget what they''d seen.


    Selby seemed to have gotten the worst of it. He was sitting alone on a bench near the far wall, just staring into the middle distance. Occasionally his eyes would dart towards the door to the railway launch and quickly dart back. Dibbuk could tell he was dreading going back into the pipes.


    While Dibbuk didn''t know Selby all that well, she did know the look of a person being pushed towards the edge of a cliff they were currently scrambling to get away from. She didn''t want to talk to him, not really, but she had to figure some of this shit out one way or another. Social anxiety or otherwise.


    She gave Mary a quick pat on the shoulder and started making her way back towards Selby''s bench of infinite fear and sadness. As she approached, Selby sat up, his back rigid as a street pole. For a moment the fear he was broadcasting changed frequency to confusion and then settled on guilt, the figurative volume knob spinning towards maximum.


    Since Dibbuk had first seen him after the incident, enough time had passed that her ire had subsided. Expecting another shove, Selby braced himself as she went past him. His sigh of relief was short lived, as she put her legs over the bench from behind and lowered herself down next to him. Dibbuk slightly enjoyed the power she currently had over her shining example of a colleague but she wasn''t going to let herself revel in it.


    "Dibbuk, I''m-" Selby began, but Dibbuk cut him off with a wave.


    "Scared?" She whispered, making full eye contact. Selby could barely maintain the gaze before he glanced again at the launch station door.


    "Sorry. I was going to say sorry." Selby responded, the words seemingly stuck to the roof of his mouth.


    "Well don''t. I don''t know what took you all so long, but I have a hunch it wasn''t something you were in control of. I don''t know if you saw something down there, but I sure as hell did. There''s something down there. Harvel felt it." Dibbuk whispered, a bit closer to Selbys ear than she was comfortable with.


    Selby shuddered a bit. Dibbuk couldn''t tell if it was fear or relief but she saw an immediate change in his demeanor. It might have been relief as for the first time Selby made the effort to make eye contact himself.


    "It showed me something down there. It showed us all something. We were halfway down the tracks and we just stopped. It was like we couldn''t bring ourselves to move. It was like if we moved even another foot, we''d never make it any further." Selby said, gulping down what Dibbuk could only assume were his own fears.


    ''I truly am pathetic.'' Said a voice somewhere in the back of her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. It was a deep, low voice, yet not her own. It wasn''t Selby''s voice either. It was something else entirely. It sounded like the voice she''d heard down in the sewers. Her throat went dry and her blood ran slightly colder than normal.


    "Don''t tell anyone, please. I don''t want people thinking I''m out of my mind." Selby asked, placing a hand on Dibbuks forearm. Shaking off her dread, Dibbuk sighed. She was just as worried as he was in that regard.


    "That''s fine. I just needed to know if we were in this boat together. Harvel will be relieved too, I know it." She replied, carefully plucking his hand off her arm. She wasn''t much of a fan of physical contact.


    "Good, if it''s you and Harvel involved I know I have people I can trust." Selby said, noting her aversion to his earlier action.


    ''Odd, Harvel always made it seem like Selby disliked him.'' Dibbuk thought, rubbing the spot where Selbys hand had previously been.


    "Are you and my brother friends? I guess I just never got that impression." She asked, genuinely curious.


    "Oh! Uh, yeah. Kind of. Back when we were in training he saved my life a couple times. I never really got the chance to thank him, Lier was always too busy yelling at him. We don''t talk much now but, I honestly look up to him quite a bit. Objectively speaking, he''s one of the reasons I''m on team 6 now." Selby replied, a guilty smile flashing across his face.


    Dibbuk didn''t know how to respond. Harvel had never told her about saving Selby''s life. She knew that they had been in training together, but he''d never really talked about it much.


    The scouts, the tankbearers, and the engineers all trained separately for the most part at the beginning of their employment. Recruits were only assigned a training team once they had passed specialization training. Most didn''t make the cut but that was the point honestly.


    Her own tank-bearer training had mostly consisted of fitness and accuracy training. If you couldn''t haul or accurately spray solvent and pesticide you''d be left with a bunch of wheezing idiots with garden hoses in their hands. Dibbuk had never had a problem with either.


    The fitness training was about as challenging for a tar-khal as making breakfast, and the accuracy training was like power washing her dads house. It had been fun honestly. Harvel hadn''t been so lucky as she recalled.


    The scout training was about the same with the added bonus of a course on cartography, and small spaces. Lier had personally overseen all tests or finals. Harvel hadn''t been much of an athlete before they signed up, but he could almost always walk around with an uncanny sense of direction. The catch was that Harvel had a very "minor" fear of cramped spaces that she''d heard had nearly killed him.


    He was claustrophobic to the point where, upon entering a children''s fun-house when they were fourteen, they''d needed to pull him out, shaking and wheezing. She speculated that he''d gotten out of it with somewhat lasting scars to his ego. The big brother bravado shtick had only grown in haughtiness for a few weeks afterwards.


    He''d never quite gotten over that it seemed. He tended to shower with the door open, to Dibbuks overall dismay. It left water all over the bathroom floor, and traction was quite the commodity for clawed peoples, especially on tile.

 Chapter 9: Fruit Snacks

    Yiddek Valez was a doctor, quite a good one if his results had anything to say about it, but today he felt more like a rather third-rate lawyer. He''d poured over so many referential legal texts that he might as well buy himself one of those fancy faux leather briefcases. His brothers insurance was being more difficult than attempting to peel the sticker off a piece of fruit with hands the size of coffee tables. At some point you just started eating the stickers as well.


    Energy drink cans and squishy fruit snack packages littered the entirety of his desk. As each package of the sweet snacks was but a drop in the nearly bottomless bucket that was his stomach, he was currently emptying three into his maw at once. As he let the now empty plastic fall onto his desk, he again glanced at his brothers most recent reports.


    They made him question whether he even needed to be doing all this collegiate era studying in the first place. In only a few days Harvel had made the type of progress that would make any surgeon quit his practice and seek new employment in the field of religion. Frankly speaking this was a monetarily lateral move, though you would most likely loose many friends and acquaintances.


    The lacerations on his back were healing at an abnormal rate, and his cracked collar bone and broken ribs were almost as good as new. In a few days Harvel had healed nearly three months-worth of injuries, primarily through bed rest. Something his brother was not known for in the first place.


    When their parents had come by Harvel had still been asleep. Yiddek had lied and told them that waking him up at this time was not advisable, but at this rate Harvel might well be doing backflips by next Monday. It was honestly baffling. At this point he was arguing more that he should be allowed to analyze Harvel instead of treat him.


    It wasn''t just the collar bone or the ribs that bothered him. When they''d brought him up Harvels spine had been separated by the centipedes mandibles. He shouldn''t have even been able to stand up, let alone walk an hour back to the switch station. As much faith as he had in his brothers often bull-headed sheer will, there were some things that had limits.


    This wasn''t one of those shows his sister loved with all the flashy fights and odd colored hair. You couldn''t overcome a spinal injury just because you wanted to really, really badly. That sort of shit is what got people killed. Adrenaline doesn''t do much when there isn''t any blood left to circulate air to the brain.


    Yet, that''s exactly what happened. Harvel had managed to make it back on his own two feet even if, at best, he should have only been able to crawl a couple of meters and then bleed out. As thankful as he was for Harvels rescue, it just shouldn''t have happened.


    He''d noticed some odd readings on Harvels blood work, but the stations equipment hadn''t come off as the most reliable. It had failed to identify his blood type correctly three times before Yiddek had managed to get an accurate reading. The only way he''d get any conclusive data would be getting him back here to run real tests, no matter how much Harvel hated it.


    Yiddek thought back to the first time he''d seen his sister after the whole thing. She''d been scared, but not in any way he''d seen her previously. She''d been scared at her sentencing. She''d been scared when people threw rocks at them as kids. This had been a different kind of fear, like she didn''t know what to be afraid of.


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    She wouldn''t tell him outright. Neither of them ever did. It was the curse of being the youngest. Nobody ever wanted to tell you anything, even when you got older.


    He almost had to thank them. All it had really done in the long run was make him overly perceptive. He always had to piece everything together, and with practice you got good at such things. It''s not like they were just going to start handing him wins now.


    Yiddek sat back and rubbed the scales under his eyes. He was sure that something was wrong. He hadn''t healed like this after the solvent incident. Had Harvel gone missing in the last few weeks that he could remember? Parish Inc. had been in the news lately for allegedly kidnapping and experimenting on the city''s lower class. Though, if they''d discovered anything of value, he doubted they would have let him go.


    Anything that could naturally heal bones in a matter of a few days and keep a man upright after a wound like Harvels would be worth trillions of credits. A company with a discovery like that would dominate the medical industry for decades to come. At the very least he would have heard rumors.


    Nobody had said anything in any morning meetings, that''s the usual place the company caught them up on what their spies had uncovered. Corporate espionage was practically a sport in this city, and Boris Metro Medical had a winning team. Parish was their only main competitor and with the recent scandal they barely registered as a threat, but he''d heard they had picked up some ringers in the latest draft.


    At the beginning of every fiscal year you could walk down Holly street, nicknamed Snoops Mile, and see that there was practically a corporate hiring fair. He''d been posted at the Metro Medical tent his first year. He''d been surprised to find out that the men and women he''d interviewed had been of a particularly higher class than he''d expected.


    Their suits were as nice as any he''d seen in the dome, with little gold plates and filigree lining the lapels and collars. After a few of the cursory questions he''d understood exactly why. It seemed corporate espionage was a bit of a family business. If you had the skills for it you could make damn near what the CEOs you were ratting out did, and if you could pass those skills on to an heir the generational wealth piled up. The real risk came from getting caught, coming back without results, or not verifying the legitimacy of your info.


    One of their top earners, Mr. Hopper, always delivered. You wouldn''t have guessed as much in a million years from looking at him. Small, mousey, with thin rimmed circular glasses, he looked like anyone you''d see working at a bank. And that''s why he did so well. Nobody paid any attention when you looked like all the other artisan shoe lickers. He never came back empty handed, his info was always good, and his family lived like royalty.


    Yiddek hadn''t been in direct contact with Hopper since he''d hired him but if anyone would know anything it would be him. He didn''t exactly fancy the idea of talking to him. Yiddek could never seem to get comfortable in his presence. He wasn''t threatening by any means, but with all the information floating in and out of Hoppers head he didn''t need to be. He was a threat. A very real one.


    Most spies signed contracts that tied them to a specific company for a short amount of time. Hopper had never, and would never, sign a goddamn thing. He worked as an independent, and this worked because he was so damn good. This also meant he was never allowed within a mile of the building. If he was good enough to get one over on their competitors, he was certainly good enough to get one over on them.


    He''d have to make contact with him somehow, but first he had to get Harvel to the dome. That in and of itself would be a gamble. He''d need to call in someone he could trust not to hand him over to another corp. Yiddek pulled up his contacts, his claw hovering over the name "Morrison". He knew exactly who he needed, but his bank account was going to be much lighter after hanging up the phone.

 Chapter 10: "Taco Tuesday"

    Captain Posthumous Lier shut off the console embedded in his desk and rolled his chair backwards. Having just gotten off a call with the head of sewage management, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He wondered if he would get as far as memorizing the name of the man he''d just gotten off the phone with. The last one hadn''t lasted three weeks before having some sort of nervous breakdown. With all this centipede business going on, Lier gave him about three more days.


    ''What was his name again? Gropple? Hopple? Something of that sort. Sounded even jumpier than the last one.'' Lier thought, giving a forceful kick and spinning the chair around a couple of times.


    He''d asked to meet with Gillis before the press could get to him. Lier had tried to dissuade him for the sake of sparing the mans feelings. Harvel wasn''t the type to go along with institutionalized secrecy. Their best course of action would be to just keep their mouths shut.


    If he knew Harvel, and he did, any mention that word getting out would be harmful to them could only result in disaster. If they kept quiet about it and swept it under the rug he''d most likely avoid talking to reporters like the plague. At this point Tunnel Times was the only publication even aware of it, and Lier needed to keep it that way.


    The central offices had been pushing for more funding and a "restructuring" of the whole sewer management system. Of course, the women and men pushing for said policy changes had never set foot in the sewer. They''d barely ever seen the inside of a pump station. And they wanted to restructure his sewer. His goddamn sewer.


    The sewer he''d fought and nearly died for. The sewer many others like him had, in fact, died for. The sewer he''d pulled from the brink of collapse nine-teen years ago after "Taco Tuesday".


    Oh, he remembered "Taco Tuesday". An event that had not only called for reform in the food production process, but that had killed seventy-three members of the waste-walkers. A massive collective case of food poisoning, originating from genetically modified bacteria, had caused an influx of waste material so massive it had nearly sent the city back to the dark ages. It hadn''t even had anything to do with tacos, the press simply picked the rhyme and it stuck.


    Pipes exploding due to pressure build up. Fat-burgs, dislodged from their resting places, sent hurtling through the tunnels like massive, white, runaway freight trains powered by brown, green, and yellow nightmares. They''d lost six teams the first two hours, another nine in the ensuing week. There had only been eight-teen teams to begin with.


    Within a week the entire chain of command had tendered their resignation. As he''d watched his captain clean out his desk and walk out of the door, he''d known something needed to change. The immediate power vacuum afterwards was just the thing he had needed.


    In the nine years after he''d built the waste-walkers back up from the seventeen remaining members to nearly full strength. In another five he''d completely rebuilt every damaged pipe, valve, seal, and drain left in ruins by the incident. In another two he''d been demoted by corporate for insubordination to the point where he''d ended up here. Captain of pump station 6.


    If he had to be honest, he was a bit glad. Being on the top of the shit pile had started to wear on him. It was all too rigid once you got involved with the Boris-Valkan government. You told them you needed eight pump seals, they said you would get six, and three would be broken. You said you needed five pens and they''d get you five thousand. It was all so stupid.


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    The station on the other hand was small, damp, and flexible. You said you needed a pen, they''d tell you to go buy one. You said you needed pump seals and they''d tell you to just take care of it. It was brilliant.


    The ability to just do things without having to fill out six forms and send nine emails was astonishing. Leir hadn''t felt so free and responsible in years. Yes, he''d been accountable for any negligence before, but accountability and responsibility were two very different things.


    Responsible was something you decided to be. Accountable was what other people decided you were. Responsible wore boots, accountable wore dress shoes. Leir decidedly liked his boots.


    The little green light on the corner of Liers desk pinged. Rolling up to the terminal he pulled up the notification. Scrolling through the message he recognized the name Lindon. He had an appointment for a meeting at seven. Knowing it was only five thirty Lier sat back and stared at the door.


    He wasn''t surprised when the knock at the door came at five thirty-two. Don always tried to be early to throw him off. He leaned down and pushed the button hidden below the corner of the desk. Lindon sauntered in, tossing his coat onto a chair in the corner as he sat down in front of Lier.


    "Post-man." He said, giving Lier a nod.


    "Donny. What''s this all about?" Lier responded, returning the nod.


    "What? Just like that? No, ''How you been?'' or ''What''s new with you?'' eh?" Don asked, lighting up a bent cigarette. He blew the smoke from his first drag over the surface of Liers desk.


    "Donny, I know how you''ve been. You''ve been the same way since you trained me." Lier answered, disrupting the rolling wave of smoke with his arm before it could reach his keyboard. Don knew he''d quit last year and was consistently trying to remind him how much he hated the smell.


    A grin spread across Dons face, showing off the decades of cigarette and coffee stains on his teeth. "Well, this time is different. This time I have plenty that''s "Up" with me Posty." He said, taking another swift drag off his cigarette. Posthumous Lier leaned forward until he was but a foot away from Dons face.


    "What''s up with you, Donny?" He asked, in a steady monotone.


    "Well, since you asked! Do you remember that day, nineteen years ago? You remember that frightened kid I tackled into a crevice so he wouldn''t end up a red smear on the steel, as a white whale hurtled our way. You remember what we saw afterwards?" Don asked, locking eyes with Lier as he pulled again on the quickly disappearing cigarette.


    "I remember Donny. I remember the thing in the dark." Lier answered, standing up and walking over to the far wall. He passed his hand over a portion of the steel. "I remember all too well." He said, pushing two fingers into a nook near the bottom. Dons eyes widened as Lier pulled away a section of the wall. To Liers slight disappointment he didn''t seem all that surprised.


    "Too well indeed, eh kid?" Don said, sidling up next to him.


    "You were expecting this?" Lier asked, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.


    "Well, I expected something. Maybe not this, but something. You always liked playing detective." Don replied, taking a final drag of his cigarette, the cherry beginning to burn into the filter.


    "This is everything so far. All the way down to level 4." Lier said, ever so slightly proud of himself.


    "How many?" Don asked, trying to take it all in.


    "Seven-teen in almost as many years. Got anything to add?" Lier said, holding out a red pen.


    "Yeah." Don answered, pausing. "Right. Here." He finished, passing up the pen and putting out the remains of his cigarette near the bottom left corner.


    Lier put the pen back in his pocket and stepped back looking at his expansive map of the Boris-Valkan sewer system. The black mark where Don had stuck the butt was about three inches away from the blue line transfer station. It was still smoldering as the filter dropped to the floor.


    Lier sighed. "Figures..."

 Chapter 11: Three Two One

    Harvel watched as the little bar shaped lights that dotted the ceiling of the infirmary passed over his head. One of the nurses pushed him along the corridor at a slightly faster pace than necessary. He''d tried to get himself clean for the most part, but he still smelled of sewage. It was a stench that, once attached to your skin, could take days to wear away. In this case it had been only a day or so since his attempt at a sponge bath.


    The nurse stopped and pressed a button on a panel next to the elevator. Her lips were subtly pursed with a slight crinkle starting to form on her nose. Harvel had to assume that the earlier haste had been an attempt to out-run the smell. By the time the elevator doors closed in front of them the pursed lips had turned into a full-blown grimace.


    Harvel was beginning to grow embarrassed by this point. He''d always made it a point to clean away the days grime before interacting with anyone he didn''t know. As nose blind as he''d grown to the sewers, he knew the average person could tell from a mile away if you still had "Taco Tuesday" caked in the tread of your boots.


    After about a minute, the doors opened to reveal the landing pad located on the roof of the station. A blast of biting cold wind flowed freely through Harvels hospital gown. Winters in Boris-Valka tended to be long and brutal. He''d often relished the time he spent in the deeper parts of the sewer where the cold gave way to the steady warmth of decomposition.


    From his position he could see that the pad was occupied by a red and white painted ambulance AV. Two EMTs stood near the back hatch, one slightly shorter than the other. From what he could tell, the taller of the two was in a somewhat heated conversation with Yiddek.


    They were pouring over Yiddeks data pad, both occasionally pointing to different parts of the AV. Harvel couldn''t hear their voices above the sound of the wind whipping across the pad but he could tell it had something to do with one of the rear tail lights. The EMT seemingly gave up, throwing his hands into the air and quickly stomping around to the other side of the vehicle.


    The shorter of the two walked closer to the edge of the landing platform, a pair of glowing binoculars held up to their eyes. They seemed to be scanning the horizon, but for what exactly Harvel couldn''t tell. Harvel couldn''t help but notice the rifle slung over their shoulder.


    Yiddek walked up to the stretcher, still flipping through his tablet and glancing back at the AV. He seemed anxious about the aforementioned taillight. Harvel on the other hand was now focused on the little holes that dotted the hull of the entire vehicle. At first, he''d thought they were rivets that had simply fallen out. As they drew closer, he could see that they were evident of something he was rather familiar with doing the exact opposite.


    "Yiddek? Why are you more worried about the taillights than the bullet holes?" Harvel asked, a little dumbfounded at the whole scene.


    "Hmm? Oh! Yeah, the bullet holes are normal, but that taillight needs to be replaced. Don''t worry though I''ve let Aldon know about it." Yiddek responded, with a nonchalance Harvel hadn''t quite been expecting.


    "Oh, the bullet holes are normal? Okay, that seems reasonable." Harvel said, rolling his eyes and staring back at the EMT with the rifle. Was everything in this city attempting to kill him? Yiddek looked up from his tablet, resting one of his claws on the side of Harvels stretcher.


    "It''ll be fine, I use the Morrisons for transport all the time. Never had a problem with them at the helm." Yiddek fibbed, wheeling the stretcher over to the back of the ambulance. The larger of the two EMTs walked back around the side of the vehicle, slamming a fist into the flickering taillight. The light steadied itself, the EMT using both hands to present the now "fixed" component like a magician showing off his favorite trick.


    While Yiddek didn''t seem quite satisfied with this, he apprehensively tapped the tablet one more time before handing it to the EMT. As the EMT plucked the tablet victoriously from Yiddeks claw, Harvel noticed he was quite a bit older than his mannerisms would have indicated. The wrinkles on his face belonged to a much older smile than the one he was currently wearing.


    "Harvel, this is Aldon Morrison, best pilot I''ve ever had the pleasure of employing." Yiddek said, beaming a bit. Aldon signed his name on the tablet and tucked it under his arm.


    "I choose to believe he meant the best pilot anyone''s ever had the pleasure of employing. Good to make your acquaintance." He announced, giving Yiddek a slightly incredulous look as he shook Harvels hand. Harvel couldn''t help but notice the hand was a prosthetic. Aldon waved the tablet in the air, grabbing the attention of the other EMT.


    "I''d like you to meet my niece Parker. She''ll be on rear watch." He said, handing the tablet to the figure that Harvel could now tell was a young woman. He couldn''t tell much else about her though, as the EMT suit she wore was bulky, with a kevlar collar that came up to the bridge of her nose.


    She took some time to look over Yiddeks notes before signing what Harvel assumed was a pre-flight checklist. Though they were the only part of her face that Harvel could see, he could tell that her eyes had a pale, deep orange color to them. Only when she leaned in to have a look at his face could he see they were both prosthetics. The iris'' whirring and focusing in tandem. It occurred to him that he hadn''t in fact seen the binoculars she had been using before.


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    "Nice to meet you. I''m gonna be riding with you in the back." Was all she said before turning to inspect the brackets that would be holding the stretcher in place. As Aldon and Yiddek looked over the manifest one last time, Harvel noticed that one of the brackets was slightly bent.


    Parker must have seen it too, as she grabbed the piece of steel and bent it back into place, bare handed. This being an action seemingly impossible without tools, Harvel watched her fingers, looking for the tell-tale gaps in the joints that would indicate prosthetics. He was both amazed and frightened to see that there were none. When she turned back to face them, she was staring at Harvel as if she were inspecting the back of his skull.


    "Alright, everything''s set to go. I''m gonna be riding in my own AV alongside the whole way." Yiddek said, giving Harvel a little pat on the shoulder in reassurance. He gestured to Aldon and Parker who heaved him up and slid the stretcher into the brackets.


    Parker hopped up into the cramped compartment and began securing the wheels in place. With one door still open, Parker slid into a small half seat sunk into the wall of the compartment. She quickly fastened herself in place with the oddly shaped seatbelt.


    "Now, your brother said you get claustrophobic. I''ve got something to calm you down should you get excitable." She said, placing the large rifle across her lap. Noticing his sudden change in pupil size she held out a hand and physically cleared the air.


    "I meant, I have a sedative for you. Doreen here is for calming other people down. Often before they have a chance to get excited in the first place." She continued, giving the rifle a couple of loving pats.


    "Erm. How often do you have to use Doreen normally?" Harvel asked, feeling icy sweat start to pool a little in his lower back. There had been quite a lot of holes.


    "Mmm, not that often anymore. We''ve gotten a bit of a reputation." Parker replied, adjusting the seat to jut out slightly.


    "Um, Yiddek? Yiddek!" Harvel barked, frantically twisting his head to see back out of the door. He''d already been nearly killed once within the last week, and he was starting to get a slightly Kevorkian vibe from the way she was staring at him.


    "Oh, It''ll be fine! Miss Morrison and her uncle are the best ambulance team in the city. You''ll be... fine." Yiddek assured him, the last bit sounding a bit less confident as he pulled his sleeve free of a bullet hole it had gotten caught on.


    Yiddek slammed the door shut, causing Harvel to wince a bit as the locks slid into place. He was alone with Parker at this point and couldn''t help but notice she was still staring directly at him. Though a social butterfly Harvel was not, he normally didn''t find it hard to keep sufficient eye contact during casual conversation. In this particular instance though, it was about as difficult as trying to convince a hungry shark that his birthname wasn''t "Lunch".


    Oddly enough this seemed to make his claustrophobia take a rather far off spot at the back of Harvels mental parking garage. He tried to look for literally anything else to look at besides her. As the cabin was almost pitch black, this was relatively unsuccessful venture.


    "So, uh, you''ve worked with my brother before?" He asked, hoping some of the tension would fade away behind the fog of inane conversation.


    "Yes, we do quite a lot of work for Doctor Valez. Though this is the first we''ve heard of him having a brother." Parker replied, unblinking.


    "Yeah, most people don''t know we''re siblings." Harvel said, punctuating the statement with a nervous chuckle.


    "I can''t imagine why." She said, starting to shift a little in her seat.


    "Probably the scales I''d wager." Harvel trailed off, letting the comment float around in the air between them. When he worked up the courage to look her in the eyes again, he noticed she was no longer staring at the back of his skull. He might have managed to spoil the mood, if that were possible.


    She was shifting around the seat uncomfortably again. She reached behind her shoulders, and Harvel heard a ripping sound that he could only associate with Velcro being torn free. When she was done the large collar from her suit was hanging from a hook alongside several others.


    This was the first time Harvel had been able to see any of the facial features below her nose. From the light seeping in through the rear window he could make out high cheekbones on a slender face. She had a slight cleft in her chin.


    Well, one high cheekbone at least. From what he could tell there had been a cheekbone on the other side at one point. The left side of her cheek and jaw looked as if it had been scooped away with a large ice cream spoon.


    Before Harvel realized he was staring, Parker once again locked eyes with him and said four words, "Stray bullet. Not pretty." It had carried a bit of an edge.


    ''If you say so.'' Harvel thought. He believed she was rather attractive, asymmetry or not. ''But don''t think for a second I believe that came from a bullet. No bullet he knew of could leave a scar that large and still be that uncannily clean.'' He finished,


    Parker shifted to face the rear hatch, causing Doreen to gleam in the dim city lights. He couldn''t tell what kind of rifle it was. Hell, he could barely tell what color her hair was. Actually, he was still trying to decide if it was green or if it was his eyes playing tricks.


    ''Why is it so damn dark anyway?'' He thought, straining his eyes to read a little sign on the roof. It read: "CAUTION CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE" It was placed next to the seal of a hatch without a handle, just one big red button with the words "knock knock" written on it.


    The AVs engines roared to life, shaking the cabin before settling into a steady rumble. Harvel barely felt the slight downward pull as the vehicle tenderly left the pad. Aldon hadn''t been lying when he said he was the best. Even the auto launch sequences installed in most modern AVs couldn''t take off that smoothly.


    Harvel watched as the lights began to move and shift throughout the cabin. They were moving slowly across Parkers face when her eyes snapped back his direction. ''Think of something to say idiot.'' He thought, his mouth dry.


    "Shouldn''t we be moving faster? It''s a long way to the dome." Harvel asked, clearing his throat and picking his head up from the pillow. Parker held up a hand with three fingers extended. Then two. Then one. Then, all he could see was the ceiling.

 Chapter 12: "-orn T- Plunge"

    Dibbuk felt like she hadn''t slept in days. It had only been a few hours since she''d woken up, but with the Tar-Khal metabolism it might as well have been nineteen. Team 5 was currently hurtling down the yellow line on their way to do a patrol on level 3. Selby was acting as the scout in Harvels absence. This wasn''t too out of the ordinary on it''s own but there was one other detail they hadn''t known about.


    Captain Lier was sitting next to Dibbuk, fully kitted out and humming absent mindedly. His suit must have been of a much older make than any of their own. Iron bands and rivets reminding her of an ancient diving suit she''d seen in a book once. He wore the same doughboy style helmet that Harvel used instead of the standard issue like the rest of the teams. Unfortunately Dibbuk herself could never find one that fit in the first place.


    Harvel had found his wedged between the wall of a pipe and a fatburg on level two a year ago. the words "-orn T- Plunge" had been painted on the side. If the dents on the visor of Liers were any indication he''d had his for quite a bit longer. The dark green enamel looked like it had worn away years ago.


    "Sir, why the old helmet? What''re the dents from?" Selby asked, nodding towards the bowl shaped headgear.


    "Mmm? Oh, a couple of the little shits got me on the ground and tried to gnaw my head off, got caught on the visor. S'' exactly what they''re designed for. They also keep the drippings off your face, and in a pinch you can make soup in it. Three birds one stone Klagbender." Lier responded, rapping his knuckles along the steel.


    "Used to make beans in mine." Don added from across the cart. He had a far off nostalgic look in his eyes.


    "Don''t remind me." Lier jabbed back.


    "Why don''t we still use them?" Wicksomme asked, taking off and inspecting his own helmet.


    "Budget cuts kid! Only thing ours''ll stop is a warriors shitter after it''s done with ya." Don responded, taking a long swig from what looked like a newly purchased flask.


    "Not in front of me Donny. Remember?" Leir grumbled, shooting Don a stern look.


    "Oi! You can''t tell what''s in here. Could be milk for all you know." Don barked, pouting a bit as he slid the flask back into his pocket.


    "Keep it down Don, we''re coming up on the dock." Mary growled, the sound of hard tapping coming from the touch pad in front of her. She seemed even more agitated than normal Dibbuk noted.


    They slowed to a stop, the breaks giving a slight whine as they scraped against the calipers. They opened the hatch and exited onto a tiny dock jutting out from an inflow pipe on the far wall. Dibbuk had been to this part of level three about nine months ago. Mary had been pretty pissed off that time as well.


    The sewers got older and more dilapidated the further towards the center of the city you went. At this point you were dealing with sytems nearly a hundred and fifty years old. Fifty miles further and you''d be practicing archaeology instead of engineering.


    Lier pulled out a datapad from a satchel on his shoulder as he approached the entrance to the pipe. The rest of the team hung back a bit, Wicksomme admiring the sheer drop underneath them. Red lights extended downwards along a set of stairs that led off into the darkness below.


    "How high up are we?" Wicksomme wondered aloud, peeking over the edge.


    "Well, I''d wager the lights are about twenty feet apart. I stopped counting them when I got to thirty, so at least six hundred? Maybe more?" Selby answered, kicking a previously spent shell off the side of the platform. Dibbuk never heard it hit the water. "Probably more." Selby finished.


    "No worries Wicky. If you fall off you''ll die quick enough. Heheh." Don said, giving Wicksomme a slap on the shoulder as he walked by. The way the young man stiffened up this must not have been much of a comfort.


    Dibbuk softly sidled up to Mary. She was leaning up against a railing, watching Lier as she chewed on her thumbnail. She''d seen Mary angry before, nothing new there, but it had always seemed like a radiating anger. Not the laser focused hatred she was seeing now.


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    "Mary? Are you alright? Somethings wrong isn''t it?" Dibbuk asked, keeping her voice down.


    "Everything. Everything is wrong. I don''t like this place. Leir won''t tell us anything. It''s all wrong Dibbuk." Mary answered through gritted teeth. Though Dibbuk couldn''t be sure, it smelled like she was sober.


    ''Fucking Lier. Fucking Don. Fucking old ass pipes. Horseshit, utter horseshit.''


    ''There it is again. That damn voice.'' Dibbuk thought, glancing around. It seemed to reverberate around in the corners of her mind. She didn''t know why it was happening. It was obviously not the eyes with a voice, but it definitely sounded like it.


    It had happened at the grocers earlier that day as well. She''d been walking away from from the fruit bar aisle with four cases of Buunchal bars and out of nowhere she''d heard it again. She''d looked up to see a teenager in a blue apron staring at her from halfway across the store.


    ''Shit, she always comes in on Wednesdays. Maybe I can stock them again before Mr. Tillum gets mad at me.''


    There was no mistaking it now. She was hearing peoples thoughts. This wouldn''t have been half bad if she had any desire to listen to them. Could she control it or was it random like drawing lots?


    ''Why''d it have to be me? Was it the eyes with the voice? Ugh, I already don''t like this. What if whatever tried to kill Harvel is inside my head now? It might try me next.'' Dibbuk thought, gazing out into the darkness extending infinitely away from the dock.


    "Valez! Quit daydreaming, we''re moving." Lier shouted, pulling her out of her head. He was pointing to the staircase, the rest of the team already following his lead. Dibbuk got in line behind Mary, who was still cursing under her breath.


    They passed pipe after pipe, light after light as they descended the ancient iron stairs. Selby''s assessment had been about three hundred feet off. By the time Lier stopped them Dibbuk could hear Wicksommes labored breathing over the constant roar of falling midden collecting beneath them. They must have been close to the bottom, the rising spray filling Dibbuks nostrils.


    "Klagbender! You''re with me on point. We''ve gotten reports of a burg down the L32a inflow. According to team 3 their last patrol didn''t turn anything up, but that was a month ago. We''re on a three month rotation down here but a sensor about three miles in picked something up yesterday." Lier announced as they made their way into the mouth of the pipe.


    "You''re telling us a fatburg got big enough to set off one of the oldest sensors in our network in a month?" Mary scoffed, shooting Don an incredulous look. Don was just staring down the pipe as if he hadn''t heard a word.


    "No Merel. I''m telling you something got big enough in a month to set off the sensor. As you know these old pipes don''t have our fancy spectrometers like the newer additions. I can''t tell you what we''re going to find. But, we are going to find it." Lier answered, sliding the datapad back into it''s satchel.


    Before another word could be said, Lier about faced and began sauntering down the pipe. Don immediately followed suit. The team exchanged reserved glances, uncertainty taking hold for a moment. "You heard the Captain! Get a move on!" Don shouted, not bothering to turn around. Without another thought or hesitation Dibbuk and the rest of the team fell into step.


    Selby jogged to catch up to Lier, Don trailing a bit behind them. They walked for nearly an hour in complete silence, the sloshing of their boots rhythmically reverberating off the curved walls. Dibbuk watched as Lier and Selbys red tinted flash lights continuously scanned the pipeline ahead.


    The two men had barely disappeared around a bend in the pipe when Mary swiftly grabbed the back of Dons suit nearly pulling him off his feet. "Keep quiet. You know more than you''re letting on. Fucking spill it." She growled, shoving him up against the pipe wall.


    "Guh, what? What are you on about? I dunno nothin'' Mena, swear." Don sputtered, coughing and rubbing his throat.


    "Don''t you fucking ''Mena'' me Don. If Lier is going to get us all killed I''d like to know. I have people waiting for me at home. Little people. You damn well know that. Beans. Spill ''em. Now." Mary half whispered, teeth gritted. She had produced a knife, the point held against the pocket containing Dons flask.


    "Now, now, hold on now. No need to do anything drastic." Don said, panic spreading across his face. She wasn''t going to kill him, but losing his precious thiskey was almost as severe a consequence as far as he was concerned.


    "Well?" Mary asked, pressing the knife ever so slightly harder.


    "Alright, alright! look, Lier knows there''s something down here. He didn''t tell me what it was, I don''t think he even knows. All I know is that this ain''t the first time we seen it. But, hey, let me go yeah? We''re falling behind. You know he''ll notice." Don pleaded, slowly pushing her hand with the knife away from his side.


    "You''d best not be lying to me. I don''t think you want to know what''ll happen if you are." Mary said, standing up and sliding the knife back into the sheath on her thigh.


    "Hey, c''mon. Let''s get moving." Dibbuk interjected, nodding towards the bend in the tunnel. Mary gave a final lunge towards Don, who, to his credit, didn''t move a muscle. As Mary walked away Don stood up and shook himself off.


    "Can you believe that kid?" Don asked Wicksomme, attempting to brush off the encounter.


    "Honestly? Kinda." Wicksomme replied as he shuffled off towards where Dibbuk and Mary were making their way towards the bend. Don, having wiped himself the rest of the way off, looked down at his flask pocket. He slid his hand into it and felt around.


    "Damn. Too close." He muttered, poking his finger out through the fresh hole Marys knife had left.

 Chapter 13: "Oh, for fucks sake!"

    When the initial shock had worn off, and Harvel had located the teeth he suspected might have been rattling around in the back of his throat, the trip was actually quite smooth. He''d definitely been on rougher flights. Though, he was currently having trouble remembering them.


    He glanced over to see Parker seemingly staring out of the rear hatch. She''d gone stark still after about five minutes and had stayed that way for the last hour. Harvel was sure he could see the wheels spinning behind her eyes. He''d never gotten to know much about implants. Most in the Wharf couldn''t afford them.


    Dibbuk had a phone implant in her arm. She''d nearly talked him into getting one himself, but he''d never really liked people being able to get ahold of him whenever they wanted in the first place. If the phone was embedded in your arm you couldn''t even say you''d left it at home. Seemed like a bit of a nightmare in his opinion.


    Harvel opened his mouth to ask her what she was looking for, but before he could get a word out the intercom buzzed on. "We''re coming up on the Swamp, you strapped in?" Aldon asked. Parker leaned back and held down a button above his head.


    "Yeah, we''re all good back here. You see anything ahead?" Parker asked, her eyes never leaving the city rolling out behind them.


    "Nope, but you know how it is. Gonna get bumpy either way." Aldon responded, letting out a little chuckle.


    "Wait, we''re going through the Swamp? Why?" Harvel interjected, audible fear leaking into his voice. The Swamp was the nickname given to a particularly unsavory area that ran in a crescent through the south and south western areas of the city. It had originally been an upscale neighborhood named Cranes Call, but after "Taco Tuesday" it had been abandoned, the infrastructure damaged beyond repair.


    Lier told him it had been the epicenter of the event. The pure amount of back up had flooded nearly every building from the top down within a thirty mile radius, and while some might have been salvageable, most were abandoned. With the buildings empty and the streets left nigh unlivable, the mass migration of gangs into the area was only natural.


    The stench and the lack of a local police force meant the cops had practically erased the district from their files. The canals that ran through it were lined with armed guards, employed by companies that found it cheaper to pay for funerals than for extra fuel. Even then, any ships that passed through the area did so at twice the legal speed.


    Before becoming a waste-walker, Harvel had never dealt much with the gangs that hung out there. He''d crossed paths with a few of the Wharfs local dealers and enforcers before, most being more interested in selling bootleg VR, drugs, or collecting debts in lieu of collecting bodies. The gangs from the Swamp on the other hand were a completely different monster.


    In the pipes he''d become all too familiar with them. They liked to run their operations through level two where the Davies were less dense. It was an unfortunate coincidence that level two was particularly dense in waste-walker patrols. They weren''t cops by any means, but the gangs from the Swamp weren''t a very discerning bunch.


    There''d been a few close calls. Warning shots for the most part. He remembered one instance in particular in which that hadn''t been an option. The man had been holding a grenade. Harvel hadn''t let him get as far as arming it. Explosives and enclosed spaces didn''t mix well.


    That didn''t make him feel much better about it. It had happened so fast he couldn''t even remember pulling the trigger. They''d turned a corner and there he''d been. By the time he''d taken the grenade out of the case he''d been hauling, Harvel had already pulled the trigger. He hadn''t even known for sure it was a grenade.


    For legal reasons the team had lied and said it could have been any of them who''d killed him. It would have violated Harvels convicted service contract otherwise. The rest of the team had known better. Lier had known better. Harvel had known better. The cops hadn''t really cared either way.


    He hadn''t been inconsolable afterwards. If he hadn''t fired quickly enough he wouldn''t be here to remember it right now, but, out of all the times in his life he''d been angry, or scared, he''d still never wanted to kill anybody. Hurt? More often than he''d like to admit, yes. Teach a lesson? Of course. But, kill? There was no point to that.


    What bothered him, truly bothered him, were the words that kept circulating to the front of his mind every time he remembered it. ''You didn''t even think about it. It could have been a homeless man. It could have, above all else, been a kid. And you didn''t even think about it.''


    "Well, this old girl doesn''t quite have the range to make it to the dome without cutting though the Swamp. Normally, we''d make a stop for fuel and go around, but your brother seemed insistent that we make it in one go." Aldon answered, snapping Harvel back into the present.


    "Well, my brother is insistent about a lot of things bu-" Harvel began to complain, but Parker cut him off.


    "But nothing. Doctor Valez is our client. Not you. You''re a patient. You don''t get to make those types of decisions." Parker interrupted, taking her finger off of the intercom button. If it hadn''t come out as deadpan as it had he would have thought she was angry.


    "Sorry. I didn''t mean anything by it. Please put that away." Harvel pleaded, noticing the little green light on the sedative administering syringe glowing next to her thumb. Parker slipped the device back into its case.


    "I have a lot of respect for Dr. Valez. He''s done some good things for us, and taken some risks he didn''t have to. He seems to have a lot of respect for you Mister Gillis. I don''t have that same respect. We''re cutting through the Swamp. Whether you''re awake or asleep for it is up to you at this point." Parker said, still staring out of the rear hatch, her fingers drumming on the sedative case.


    Harvel nodded. "Awake please." he answered, deflated. He put his head back down and tried to calm himself. He''d almost gotten his heartbeat back to normal when he heard an odd little "Ping!" sound come from next to his head. Then another, and another.


    "Test shots. The small fry are trying to see if we panic. We wont see any real problems unless the larger gangs get involved." Parker said, readying her rifle.


    Harvel considered his options. He was reconsidering his decision to be awake for all of this. "Can I have a gun too?" He asked, a spark of hope in his voice.


    "No." Parker answered, grabbing one of the straps holding his chest to the stretcher and pulling it tighter. Another ping went off above their heads. "For your safety." She said, noticing his grimace.


    "Sure." Harvel murmured, shifting his shoulder blades underneath him. It was hard not to notice just how little his back hurt. In fact he felt great. Maybe they had increased his pain meds for the ride, but he didn''t feel the general brain fog he had before.


    Harvel watched Parker put the large collar back on. As she turned around he took note of the pistol strapped to one of her thighs. He recognized the model from a magazine Mary had shown him once. It was a Ds- something or another. He only really remembered that they''d called it a potato masher. As far as he knew they were the type of illegal you didn''t get a trial for.


    One of the few police officers he''d been friends with growing up had been killed with one. He''d only been hit once, but the funeral had been a closed casket. Officer Hayes hadn''t deserved to die like that. Nobody did. At least it had been quick.


    Unlike Parkers rifle it wasn''t designed with accuracy in mind. He didn''t know what it was designed for really. He knew one thing though, if he had a problem all he''d have to do is fire, the masher would do the rest. The rest, in this case, being breaking his wrist and a majority of his fingers before very shortly afterwards vaporizing whomever was in front of him. Along with any wall they might be standing in front of.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Harvel quickly shifted his gaze away from the double edged sword within his reach. Parker was just standing there now, rifle at the ready. She''d hooked herself onto some sort of anchoring system located on the roof. She was sort of floating around on the balls of her feet. After a few seconds they heard another, much louder, "Ping!" come from the front end of the AV.


    "The big boys have joined in on the fun now. I''m gonna put on some music to drown ''em out." Aldon chimed in over the intercom.


    Parker let out a sigh as she slipped in some ear plugs, reluctantly offering Harvel a pair as well. As he couldn''t currently move his arms he turned them down with a shake of his head. He''d gotten used to the sound of gunshots in confined spaces. Of course, he found out a second later that they hadn''t been for the gunshots.


    "You like the classics Harvel? Imma put on some Stranded. You''ll like that." Aldon chimed in again, not bothering to wait for a response.


    The sound hit him in the chest before he understood what was coming. The pressure of soaring organ chords and a driving bass line pervaded the remaining thoughts he had left in his head. The beat felt as if it were controlling the flow of blood in his head.


    "Oh, it started out slow, something I didn''t expe-" came the words, punctuated by more rounds pinging off the hull.


    Parker fired off her first shot into the darkness. Harvel had barely shaken off the pressure of the sound surrounding him when she fired her second. He craned his head around and spotted an AV coming up on them fast. He couldn''t tell what kind. All he could see were flashes as Parkers rounds sparked off its hull.


    "Just a simple girl I thought I overlooked, but one look from y-"


    Just as the flashes were growing closer Aldon dipped downward, causing their pursuers to rise out of sight. Parker reloaded her rifle, careful to place the empty magazine into a slot next to Harvels head.


    The AV pulled up behind them for a moment before Aldon spun the ambulance ninety degrees onto its side. In perfect synchronization Parker leapt, her head staying perfectly level like a gyroscope as she landed. She planted her feet on each side of the cubby he was strapped into.


    "So let me hold your hand just a little while longer, see your smile just a on-"


    At this point the only thing Harvel could see was Parkers right boot about two inches away from his nose. The shots continuing, Harvel sputtered as hot shells rained down onto his face until another magazine was spent. Without looking she released it, allowing gravity to guide it into the slot next to her foot. Harvel was just starting to get as comfortable as his new position would allow, when Parker stomped on the intercom button.


    "Get us back in the damn clouds, I think there''s more up top!" She yelled, still unloading rounds out of the rear hatch. Harvel couldn''t hear what Aldon relayed back but he felt the AV begin to shift upwards.


    Parker hopped into the air, once again timing it perfectly to Aldon leveling out the AV. Harvel could feel his straps beginning to loosen. He strained his left arm against them. While it lacked the strength of his right, it was missing considerably more mass. He knew he shouldn''t be doing it, but he couldn''t help trying to get some form of control back.


    "Oh, it might be crazy, but I ju-"


    Just as Harvels arm slipped out of its confinement, Parker fired another round. An explosion rocked the entire AV causing Parker to hover in the air in front of him for a moment. For the first time since takeoff, Harvel saw her face lit up by the ball of flame descending to the ground behind them. He''d only caught a glimpse, but he could swear she''d been smiling.


    "Cause baby we''re almost there!"


    Harvel closed his eyes and attempted to calm down. Between the rounds Parker was firing, the rounds the bastards were firing at them, and the music Aldon was blaring, he felt like his head was about to explode. Through the cacophony of sounds elbowing past each other to occupy the front of his mind he heard something else.


    There was a thumping, rhythmic, slow, and metallic. It sounded like it was getting louder, closer maybe. It sounded like footsteps. Harvel opened his eyes, scanning for some indication of its origin.


    It sounded as if it were above them. Harvel watched the top hatch, struggling against his straps. With his now free hand he managed to get his other arm loose. He watched as a head began to crest the window in the middle of the hatch.


    ''Of course they''re on top of the damn AV. Why wouldn''t they be?'' Harvel thought as he listened to the footsteps growing closer.


    "Parker? Uhm, Parker?" Harvel asked, reaching over to tap her shoulder without taking his eyes off of the head now almost in full view. He felt her shrug off his attempt. "Uhm, Parker?! Parker!" He insisted, this time grabbing her by the back of her collar and shaking her.


    "Will you shut up?! I''m a little busy!" She yelled, not taking her eyes off of the rear hatch, continuing to fire round after round. Harvel debated just letting the man, who was now making full eye contact with him, shoot her. He watched as the raider leveled his rifle with the hatch, aiming directly at the back of Parkers head.


    "Oh, for fucks sake!" Harvel screamed as he forcefully pulled her as close to him as he could. A series of three shots ripped through the hatch and embedded themselves into the steel where she had been standing. He held her there for a moment as he pulled the hulking pistol out of her holster and aimed.


    The sound of a screaming guitar solo, visceral and building, filled his ears. The masher didn''t have sights. It didn''t really need them. He lined up the shot in the middle of the window and pulled the trigger as the last screaming chord reached its apex.


    His ears rang like a thousand bells at the same time. The window was gone, the raider was gone, his hand was so numb it felt like it was gone as well. Well, it was numb at first and then the pain hit. It had definitely broken some of his fingers.


    He nearly dropped the pistol, barely keeping a grip with the three fingers he could still stand to use. Parker pulled herself free and stared up at the gaping hole in the roof for a moment. The shot had barely threaded the needle and missed most of the hatch, the big red button hanging in the air by a wire.


    "What the fuck just happened?!" Aldon screamed, his voice nearly blowing out the speaker on the intercom.


    "I told you they were above us! How long until we''re out of the Swamp?!" Parker yelled back, eyes now firmly fixated on Harvel.


    "Almost there! Maybe a minute or t-!" Aldon responded, cutting out near the end.


    Harvel felt the AV gain even more speed as they tilted down towards the ground. He expected Parker to rip the gun out of his hand the way she was glaring at him. Instead she turned around and kept firing out of the rear hatch.


    "Keep an eye out!" she yelled, grabbing the now freely swinging button and shoving it into his free hand. Harvel simply nodded and kept his eyes on what remained of the hatch. He tried to sight in with the masher, but quickly realized that his hand was shaking so violently from the effort that the next shot might very well take off Aldons head.


    Another AV lined up with what was left of the hatch, firing tethers into the top of the ambulance. They struck home, causing the entire ambulance to dip from the force. He could hear the metal strain as Aldon pulled the AV further down between the buildings. This was a very precarious game of tug of war. If the other AV managed to gain enough control they could be slammed into one of the many abandoned sky scrapers flying past them.


    "What do we do?!" Harvel screamed, the gusts of wind coming in through the hole in the roof nearly drowning him out.


    "What do you think that button is for?!" Parker yelled back, still firing into an AV behind them. Harvel ran his thumb over the big red button. The AV was pulling them closer and closer by the second. Aldon was losing this particular match.


    Before he pressed down Harvel took note of a logo stamped on the bottom of the AV pulling them in. It was familiar but he couldn''t quite place it. Two wings with an arrow shot through them. It looked as if someone had tried and failed to sand it off.


    ''Wait... one more thing.'' Harvel thought, shooting Parker a glance. He dropped the pistol and reached over, jerking her towards him again. Before she could issue a complaint, he let go and unhooked her tether. Once he''d seen it retract towards the ceiling he pressed down.


    With explosive force the empty frame shot upwards and embedded itself in the bottom of the AV above. The vehicle, spouting a fountain of flames, began to fall, the tethers still firmly attached to the roof. Harvel nodded at the straps holding him in place. Parker, taking the hint hooked her arm into two of them and braced herself.


    The force of the tethers pulling taught again nearly made him pass out. He opened his eyes just in time to see the section of roof that held Parkers harness tear away. Finally the sounds of rounds bouncing off the hull subsided. Biting cold wrapped around them as Harvel and Parker stared up at the now gaping hole that used to be the roof.


    "Heheh, knock knock eh?" He whispered under his breath.


    "Parker? Is the roof gone?" Aldon chimed in, sounding thoroughly exhausted. The music had stopped. The sound system must have been embedded in the ceiling, now laying somewhere among the rubble of a crashed AV.


    "Yeah. The roofs gone." Parker answered, holding down the little button above Harvels head.


    "That''s... Kind of rad actually." Aldon admitted, pausing to sigh. "Well, we''re gonna have to put ''er down in the city. Main fuel line''s been hit. Harvel, you like Vietnamese?" He continued, the AV beginning a slow descent until Harvel could see well lit buildings growing taller and taller around them.


    "S-sure?" Harvel stammered, staring down at the twisted fingers on his left hand. "As long as they have forks." he finished, shooting a glance Parkers way. She was still bracing herself against the straps near his leg.


    "If we can''t find you one Parker can feed you eh? I get the feeling she owes you." Aldon answered, chuckling lightheartedly. Parker grumbled something he couldn''t quite hear but it sounded like "Fuck no."


    They braced themselves again as the AV came to a rough yet calculated stop at ground level. As Parker undid the straps holding him to his stretcher, Harvel could see a blue neon sign a few yards away. "Ph�� Saigon" He read aloud. His ears still ringing so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts.

 Chapter 14: "Pho Saigon"

    "C''mon. Can you walk?" Parker asked, letting Harvel prop himself up on her arm.


    "Yeah, should be alright. You got anything for broken fingers?" He asked, holding up his gnarled hand.


    "We have a couple splints in here. How''s your back feeling?" She answered, glancing at his backwards fingers.


    "I''m good, I think. You got any clothes in here?" Harvel asked, scanning around the remains of the ambulance. He was still wearing his ragged hospital gown, and though he hadn''t noticed the cold much during the crises, at this point he was nearly frozen through. The only parts of him that didn''t feel like they were about to fall off were his fingers, throbbing with white hot pain.


    "Here, some of my spares. Don''t mean to ruin the mood you two, but we should get moving soon. Dunno who might be watching." Aldon said, tossing Harvel a stack of clothes as he rounded the back of the AV. Parker glowered at him a bit. Harvel didn''t even attempt to catch them as they hit him in the chest and flopped to the floor.


    "I might help you feed yourself, but you''re on your own for this." Parker said, reluctantly picking up the clothes and draping them over his shoulder.


    "Fine, I''ll get you sorted out kid. Don''t pay her no mind. Probably just irritated. We haven''t been taken down in a while. They must have really wanted you." Aldon said as Parker stepped down from the AV. He grabbed the clothes and pulled the gown off of Harvel, leaving him standing in the wind, stark naked.


    Harvel grabbed the underwear as quickly as he could and slipped them on with his good hand. The waistband read "Born to Fly" in slightly faded black lettering. He was about the same build as the old pilot, perhaps a bit taller, leaving the pants tighter in the crotch than he would have preferred. After getting some help with the shirt he was fully dressed.


    Aldon stepped back to inspect him as Harvel slipped on the long blue coat he''d handed him. He leaned forward and squeezed a spot on Harvels lapel, causing little blue lights to glow along the zipper. Immediately Harvel felt the coat begin to warm itself along his back and arms.


    "Well, you need a shave, maybe a haircut as well, but it''ll do for now." Aldon said, pulling the coat a little tighter around Harvels shoulders. He ran his hand through Harvels brown, unkempt hair a few times, pushing it back off of his forehead.


    "I appreciate it but I don''t see why you''re making a big fuss about how I look. I''m just glad to be warm. And alive." Harvel said, pulling and holding the warmest bits of the coat against his body.


    "Have a reputation to uphold kid. Can''t have you walking around looking like the sewers just spit you out if you''re going to hang with me. This is going to hurt by the way." Aldon said, chuckling and grabbing Harvels left wrist. He''d grabbed a splint and was having a look at Harvels fingers.


    Harvel sucked in some air and held his breath. He nodded and held his tongue against the top of his mouth, looking up at the orange sky above them. It was nearly dawn. Aldon pulled quickly on both of the fingers, sending immense pain up Harvels wrist as the disconnected bones shifted tentatively back into place. Aldon wrapped the fingers together with some tape and slid the splint into place.


    "Good, you didn''t even cry. Would you like a lollipop?" Aldon asked, smiling and opening a drawer to his left. Harvel leaned over to see it was full of rifle rounds. Some looked as if they were too large to be used in Parkers rifle.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    "Ope! Wrong drawer." Aldon said, quickly slamming it shut and opening another one above it. This one was in fact filled with lollipops.


    "I think I''m good, thank you though." Harvel answered, still cradling his throbbing hand.


    "Just as well, Parker likes to keep them for herself anyways. She''d never admit it but she''s got a bit of a sweet tooth." He said, pushing the drawer closed and latching it. "Bit of advice for later, eh?" Aldon finished, nudging Harvel in the ribs with his elbow and shooting him a conspiratorial wink. Harvel winced reflexively. He rubbed his side, eyeing Aldon with suspicion as he did.


    ''What''s the old man getting at with that last one? Why should it matter to me if Parker likes sweets? It wasn''t like, wait. Ah, I see.'' He thought, realization dawning. He''d been here before, just not very often in the last few years.


    "Aldon, you might not have noticed but I don''t think she likes me all that much." Harvel commented, glancing at Parker, currently discussing the details of their situation with a couple of local police. To his surprise they didn''t seem the least bit worried.


    "Heh! You might not have noticed young man, but she isn''t exactly the talkative type. She''s said more to you in the last three hours than she''s said to anyone, including me, on our last three jobs." Aldon scoffed, leaning in close. Parker had turned around and was eyeing the two of them.


    "Plus, she didn''t tranq you the first chance she got. That alone says something in my book." He finished, putting his arm around Harvels shoulder and waving at Parker in a reassuring manner.


    "You two ready? I''m getting hungry." Parker said, pulling off her collar and tossing it onto the floor of the AV.


    "We''re good. What do you think?" Aldon asked, presenting the now fully clothed Harvel. Harvel tried to stand up straight and gave her his best nervous smile. It wasn''t a very good one. Though he did keep them clean, his bottom teeth were so crooked you could fashion keys out of them.


    She looked him up, and then down, and then whilst stifling a laugh, up again. The pants really were very tight. With quite a bit of effort Harvel kept his good hand from reorganizing the one spot he was most acutely aware of. Doing so would be admitting to his shame.


    Without looking him in the eye, Parker leaned in and picked her masher up off of the floor. Laser focused, she placed both it and Doreen in some compartment below the bumper. She managed to get out a "Looks fine." as she stifled another laugh and walked away towards the restaurant.


    "Don''t worry too much bud. Nothing wrong with being "up front" eh?" Aldon said, sauntering off the back of the AV and into the street. After a bit of readjustment Harvel soon followed, still pulling at the fabric situated around his crotch. The pants were still quite uncomfortable.


    Though they only had to walk a few yards to get to the restaurant Harvel tried to take in everything he could about this part of the city. He''d never really been outside of the Wharf save for when they traveled underground, and when he''d been to the Dome. To be honest he had very little experience with the neighborhoods outside of his own.


    The street was lit from nearly every angle by neon signs and bright street lights. He looked down to realize he didn''t have a shadow. It must have been nearly four in the morning by this point and he couldn''t see a single unlit corner. It nearly made his eyes water.


    Whatever corner they were on was only about half a mile from the edge of the Swamp. The darkened towers loomed over the streets like a massive wave only moments away from crashing down upon them. It was like looking in a mirror. On one side, civilization at its brightest and most advanced, on the other the same civilization brought low by the failure of a single aspect of that advancement.


    He would have considered the thought a bit poetic, had he not unconsciously used nearly eleven expletives while thinking it. Harvel looked at the sign for Ph�� Saigon, not yet understanding the old Earth reference. He would never be a poet. He didn��t quite know the words for that sort of thing.

 Chapter 15: "Why... Doesnt it hurt?"

    Pho Saigon itself was well lit, with orange and green neon signs dominating the front windows of the eatery. Though Parker had gotten to it first, Aldon was the one who opened the door. He made quick time getting to the counter and shouting something Harvel couldn''t understand back into the kitchen.


    Aldon pointed out a table with two chairs and a booth near the back and waltzed through a doorway covered with a blue curtain. Parker and Harvel made their way past the many patrons currently enjoying their food, both taking a seat around the little table. Harvel ran his good hand over the false leather texturing pasted over the surface. It gave him a little comfort to know some things were universal.


    He''d expected his back to twinge the moment the chair touched it, but again to his surprise it felt just fine. He reached back under his shirt and ran his fingers along the points where the centipedes barbs had punctured. There was something there, not a scar, or a scab. As far as he could tell it felt more like a sponge. It seemed to have soft ridges of some type.


    He pulled his hand out and looked at it. It was mostly clean, save for what might have been flakes of skin clinging to the tips of his fingers. Whatever it was he was sure Yiddek would know more about it than he did. It wasn''t giving off any heat and he wasn''t feverish so he doubted it was some sort of infection. Maybe it was something they''d done while he was asleep.


    As it would only serve to worry him more than their whole situation already did, he put it to the back of his mind for the moment. This wasn''t hard, his stomach was busy checking all of his other thoughts into the boards. He hadn''t had a decent meal for days. The stuff they had fed him at the infirmary had all been pre-made and reheated.


    Harvel looked over to see Parker rolling the top half of her EMT suit down around her waist. He hadn''t known what to expect, really. For some reason he''d envisioned there being a radically comical aspect to the suit. Maybe she was a quarter the size when she took it off, or was wearing another identical one underneath. This was not the case.


    Harvel would have made a more concerted effort not to stare, but under her compression shirt he could see the types of muscles he''d only ever seen in movies. He didn''t envy the lid that got between her and a jar of pickles. Or maybe he did? He was in the middle of figuring that out at the moment. Sexual awakenings aside, it occurred to him that they might not have all that much in common as far as hobbies were concerned.


    Harvel wasn''t one for exercise himself. He had muscles, but they were work muscles, cultivated over years of randomized physical labor. There wasn''t a regimen when you were hoisting thirty pound bolts above your head for a repair shift. You just did it until someone said stop.


    If it weren''t for his lack of choice he''d have been two hundred and fifty pounds of fat and happiness. As it was he was a hundred and sixty pounds of muscle and thinly veiled depression. Whomever had said exercise made you happy had evidently never been forced to do so under threat of imprisonment.


    Harvel sat and let his mind run for a few minutes. The aromas wafting throughout the restaurant were so invitingly delightful he could barely sneak a coherent idea past them. It was the type of smell that made you feel at home even if you were hundreds of miles from familiar ground. It reminded him of his parents cooking. He sat still and absorbed it, staring off into nothingness as the warm twinge of home slowly overtook him.


    "So, we''ve got about an hour before they finish the tow on the AV and they get our spare out of the lot. In the meantime, I happen to have a few questions Harvel." Aldon said, waltzing up to the table and placing both hands firmly on Harvels shoulders. The little warm twinge sucked itself back inside the center of his being like a cuttlefish retreating into its shell.


    "I ain''t done nothing." He answered reflexively. It was a phrase you learned quickly in the Wharf. If you were born there it was most likely tattooed somewhere on your person, usually above your eyebrow or on your neck. You might even get the local cops to say it if you asked them about the weather when they weren''t expecting it. The grip on his shoulders slackened as Aldon chuckled.


    "Then how''d you end up here? Spoken like a Wharf boy through and through, so that''s one crossed off the list. Look, this isn''t an interrogation. I just want to know more about you. Not every day you get a wealthy Tar-Khal doctor with a human waste-walker for a brother. It''s especially not every day that the roof of my favorite AV gets ripped off by mercenaries in pursuit of said waste-walker." he said, sitting down next to Harvel, keeping one hand firmly planted on his shoulder.


    "Look, if it''s about the people chasing us I couldn''t really tell you. I saw some sort of symbol on one of the AVs, like a wing with arrows through it, dunno what that means. To put it all out on the table, here''s my sequence of events, attacked by a centipede, killed a centipede, got treatment, got on the ambulance, and here we are. You want to know anything else just- actually, where is my brother? He was supposed to follow us." Harvel said, feeling Aldon''s grip loosen a bit.


    "He''s probably still going around the Swamp, takes about an hour longer that way. Now, the centipede bit. I''ve seen what one of those things can do and seeing as you aren''t currently on your way to a morgue in a little plastic box, it either barely touched you, or wastewalkers get better care than the knobs around here. Which is it?" Aldon said, arranging a set of plastic chopsticks and a large spoon in front of him.


    "Um, well. Truth is, and I hate to tell you this, but I don''t actually know. Look, they told me I died down there or something, so the morgue route was closer than I''d like. The care bit is another question for Yiddek. I''m not sure what he did but my back doesn''t even hurt anymore. I''m not even sure why we''re doing all of this. If I''m better now why not just chuck me back in the sewers like normal?!" Harvel answered, letting some of his pent up frustration leak out.


    Aldon pulled his hand off of Harvels shoulder. "Well, looks like I''m not the only one with questions. You''ve been a great help." He said, keeping a close eye on Harvel.


    "What do you mean? I didn''t tell you much of anything." Harvel asked, sighing as he grabbed his own pair of chopsticks.


    "Exactly. If you don''t know what''s going on it must be pretty fucked for your brother not to tell you." Parker interjected, giving him a look about as sympathetic as Harvel could have hoped for. Aldon slapped the table and pointed at Harvel.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Exactly! Your brother''s smart. Smart enough to know you''re a bit on the stupid side, Harvel." He said, holding a hand up as Parker started to talk again. Harvel squeezed his chopsticks, feeling the plastic strain against his fingers. He knew he wasn''t exactly a genius, but people didn''t tend to outright call him stupid.


    "You just told us you don''t know anything. We might be working for a third party. If you don''t know anything then you might be of no use to us alive. Very, very stupid Harvel." Aldon said, watching the chop sticks as Harvel squeezed tighter.


    "To us you could be some sort of mule, stuffed with whatever is keeping you upright. Your brother might be a real bastard, using you as a distraction while he moves the real vip with him. He might have aban-" Aldon continued, before Harvel slammed his fists onto the table, cutting him off.


    "My brother isn''t a-!" Harvel started to yell before Aldon slapped the table again.


    "Ah ha! Knew it!" Aldon shouted, pointing at Harvels face.


    "Knew what?!" Harvel snapped, still seething with anger.


    "Harvel, you''re left handed right?" Parker asked. She seemed to understand what her uncle was getting at. Harvels ire subsided, replaced by confusion.


    He looked down at his hands, as he always did when he needed to remember left from right. He hadn''t even been thinking about it. The chopsticks were bent in the palm of his left hand. The same hand that should have only had three working fingers. All five of which were now balled up into a fist around the crooked remains of his former eating utensils.


    "Huh, doesn''t hurt. Why... doesn''t it hurt?" He asked, primarily to himself. Harvel turned his hand this way and that in front of him. There wasn''t even a trace of the white hot anguish he''d felt only minutes ago.


    "Dunno. But they were damn well broken when I looked at ''em earlier I can tell you that. Sorry about the stuff I said about your brother, but I wanted to see where you stood on the matter. The hand thing was just a sneaking suspicion I had. Whatever he did it seems like it keeps working on its own." Aldon said, grabbing Harvels wrist to inspect his own work.


    Harvel sat again, making a point to rub his shoulders against the back rest on the way down. Still no pain. Well, now he was mad. The last few days hadn''t only felt like bullshit, they had been bullshit. This whole night had been bullshit. And Yiddek knew. And Harvel was pissed about it.


    He also had no idea what to do next. He knew his brother didn''t have any ill intentions, but the real question was why hadn''t he told him? Obviously the secrecy route hadn''t worked. People didn''t go about sending mercenaries after a rumor. And if they knew he was being moved tonight then they probably knew where he was being moved to.


    They definitely had money, and quite a bit of it at that. Harvel had never hired mercenaries but he could bet they weren''t cheap. That pretty much ruled out going to the Dome. The place practically glowed green if you squinted hard enough.


    "You still want to get to the Dome?" Parker asked, absentmindedly attempting to bend his chopsticks back into shape.


    "You''re asking me? I figured you''d wait for Yiddek to make those sorts of decisions." Harvel answered, attempting a condescending look over the top of his glasses.


    "Oh, well, if you don''t think you''ve earned it..." She trailed off, continuing to fiddle with the disposable cutlery. Harvels spine visibly stiffened.


    "No, no. I wouldn''t say that. Maybe we just make a decision after we get some food in us? You don''t even have to help me eat." He said, as a waitress placed a large steaming bowl of soup in front of each of them.


    "Shame that. Would''ve been a sight to see." Aldon murmured before promptly digging in. Parker simply glared at him as she picked up the bowl and began sipping directly from the lip. Harvel, seeing no need to be the odd one out, followed suit.


    For a few minutes of blissful peace the trio enjoyed their meal. The soup was so rich, flavorful, and aromatic that if he wasn''t so busy eating Harvel might have outright wept. It might have been the stress of the last few days but it felt like the best meal he''d had in years.


    "So, how does a smart young man like yourself end up a waste-walker? No offense, just doesn''t seem like your first choice of career." Aldon managed to ask between mouthfuls.


    "Hmm? Oh, convicted service contract. Got four years for "assaulting" a doctor. Still got a year to go. Wasn''t always a smart young man." Harvel answered, wiping a bit of stray rice noodle from the corner of his mouth. This wasn''t a subject he was eager to discuss at length. The word assault tended to put people off.


    "Assault on a doctor huh? That''s usually an eight year sentence, why four?" Aldon asked without missing a beat. Nobody had ever really asked about that. Harvel paused for a second to think of how to word it.


    "They cut it in half cause I joined up with the walkers. The judge thought I was a hot head and assumed I''d be dead before I made it past my third year. No need to make it much longer than that, just extra paperwork at that point. My sister got the same offer." He answered, quickly shifting his attention back to his soup.


    "Makes sense I guess. Which doctor? I might have to shake your hand." Aldon scoffed, face again buried in his bowl.


    "Artie Pellerton. He bought out a bunch of local clinics down in the Wharf. Priced the entire neighborhood out of their healthcare. Caught him after an opening and decked him in the shnoz. My sister tried to fight the cops." Harvel explained, a smile spreading across his face.


    He had to admit it hadn''t really been worth it, but he still chuckled every time he saw Pellertons face on the net. They''d definitely done a number on him to straighten his nose back out but they hadn''t gotten it quite right. One of his nostrils still looked a bit off when he talked. Harvel considered the rise he got out of it a sort of souvenir no-one could ever take away.


    "Oh! I heard about that! I think there''s a video of it on the net somewhere. I''m guessing the Tar-Khal with all the cops in the bear hug was your sister then?" Aldon said, pulling out his phone and scrolling for a second.


    "Yeah, that''s Dibbuk. She should have just let them kick the crap out of me. That bear hug earned her four years same as me. Now we''re both working in the pipes. She should be midway through her shift now that I think about it." Harvel said, watching the shaky video Aldon had pulled up of the incident.


    Harvel had never felt right about his sister being sentenced the same as himself. She hadn''t caused any harm, save for the uncomfortable looks the officers had given each other when she''d let them go. Honestly, she hugged her stuffed animals at home the same way when she slept. If you muted all the screaming the video actually came off as heart warming.


    She had a gentle giant type of personality for the most part. He''d never really seen her argue with anyone save for Yiddek and himself. She didn''t even argue with their parents. Well, there was the onion thing with their dad, but other than that she didn''t argue with their parents. He''d barely ever heard her raise her voice, save for when she was tired.

 Chapter 16: Stupid Games, Stupid Prizes.

    "Do you have any idea what you''re even talking about?!" Dibbuk complained, tossing a slab of stone over her shoulder.


    "Yes. I do. If you keep the pressure up in the tanks you can ready them quicker than having to re-pressurize them every time." Selby argued back, tossing a much smaller slab over his own.


    "You''d be right, for about a week. Then one of the seals would split and leave you without any flesh on your spine. I know, ask Harvel when you see him next." She argued back, heaving another bicycle sized stone over her shoulder.


    "What are you two on about?" Wicksomme chimed in, breathing heavily as he hefted a shovelful of stones aside.


    "Nothing! If we got better quality seals for the tanks it wouldn''t be a factor. Problem solved." Selby said, wiping away a deluge of sweat from his forehead.


    "Good luck with that Klagbender." Lier added from further up the pile of debris. Dibbuk shifted out of the way as a shower of small stones slid down the remains of the caved in tunnel. This was one of the oldest pipes she''d ever seen. Void of metal, the entirety of the chamber they were in was constructed of what looked like paving stones.


    They''d been attempting to clear the debris for over an hour at this point and so far all they could fit through the hole was Liers hand. Things weren''t looking good for their little expedition. The sensor was only a half mile away from where they were and yet, with no charted way around they might have to turn back.


    "Klagbender, come try to get through this would you? I''m not as lithe as I used to be." Lier said, gesturing towards the hole he''d been working on. Selby climbed to the top and attempted to fit his head and shoulders through the gap. He''d gotten about halfway in before pulling himself out with such force another shower of stones rained down upon Dibbuks arms.


    "Nope. Not gonna work. Need more room." Selby stated, quickly dusting himself off and making his way back down the pile.


    "Not doing that. Not doing that." Dibbuk heard, the thoughts sounding panicked. Selby quickly began sifting through bricks and stone shards, throwing up little clouds of dust around his feet. Dibbuk eyed Selby from across the tunnel.


    ''What''s eating him? He''s been getting more and more bitchy for the last two hours. It honestly seemed like he could have fit.'' She thought, taking a second to glance up at Lier.


    He didn''t seem very pleased with Selby at the moment either. The thousand yard stare Lier was giving him was slightly squinty-er than the one he normally wore. His gaze relaxed a bit as he met Dibbuks own and it seemed an understanding was forming between them. Neither of them were going to put up with Selbys shit for much longer.


    Dibbuk inspected the rubble again. Most of the large rocks were near the bottom. One in particular caught her eye near the edge of the pile. It was probably the largest of all the stones currently blocking their way. It looked like it had broken through the wall where it had fallen.


    Dibbuk walked back up the pipe and nudged Mary''s shoulder. At the moment she was with Don lowering a long black cord into a crack that ran from the bottom of the pile outwards.


    "Do you think I should move that rock?" Dibbuk asked, pulling Marys focus away from the fissure.


    Mary glanced up at the heap and scoffed, "Be more specific hun."


    "I meant, do you think I could move that rock and not bring this place crashing down around our ears?" Dibbuk elaborated, scooping a stray brick out of the drying sludge and lobbing it at the monolith. Mary took another look at the boulder then gave her a "so so" hand gesture.


    "Honestly I couldn''t tell you. Every pebble we move has a chance of causing a cave in at this point. Good news is there''s no open cavities below us for another few hundred feet, so it''s unlikely we''ll fall in. I would say it isn''t advisable, but it isn''t exactly advisable for us to be down here in the first place." Mary commented, showing Dibbuk a map of the area around them.


    "Hmm. So, yes?" Dibbuk asked, still unsure of what Mary was getting at. Most of the screen was yellow save for a couple of weak blue lines near the bottom.


    "You can try. If you open up a bigger passage then we can move on. If you block up the tunnel then we get to trek back home. I''m not exactly against either. Just be careful. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes you know." Mary clarified. Dibbuk took another look at the pile of rubble.


    ''Stupid games, stupid prizes, huh?'' She thought as she walked back towards the heap.


    "Captain, Wicksomme, get down please. I want to try something. You may need to run." Dibbuk said, waving them down off the rubble. Lier and Wicksomme made their way down, sliding and tripping over the jagged stones.


    Dibbuk approached the boulder, shifting her head this way and that to get a better look at it. She''d never really tried to move anything this large before. She''d picked up the back of an AV about the same size at one point, though, she doubted the weight would be at all comparable. It was worth a try.


    She slid her arm down and around the outside, grabbing a tentative handhold on the side nearest the wall. Now for the other hand. She pushed inwards against the stones pressing up against the other side. She worked though the pain as stones scraped and tore at the backside of her claws. The deeper she buried her hand the greater the pressure from the debris pile.


    Finally once she''d buried her arm up to the elbow she found a divot in the stone large enough to get a hand hold. There wasn''t a way of pushing the stone without bringing the rest of the rubble down on top of her. She''d have to pull to get anywhere with it. This wasn''t going to be pretty.


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    This was one of the few times Dibbuk was not only thankful to have a tail, but actually wished it were longer. She braced herself against the wall with the appendage and began shifting her shoulders back and forth. Her first attempts got her nowhere, her tail flailing wildly and slapping against the stone. For all her strength she could only feel the stone move slightly with each subsequent attempt.


    "You uh, sure you got this?" Selby whispered, having moved up next to her head while Dibbuk was catching her breath.


    "Yeah, maybe. Give me a minute." She muttered, frustration creeping in. She tried another few times to no avail. Embarrassment building with each attempt.


    "I''m not so sure about this." Selby commented, arms folded. Dibbuk groaned, she was getting tired of Selbys dwindling work ethic.


    "Look, just, just say something that''ll piss me off okay." She said, glaring at him. She wasn''t going to be able to move it without some real motivation. Anger always seemed to help motivate Harvel, might as well give it a try.


    "What? I guess. What pisses you off? I have no clue." He asked in a sarcastically helpful tone. Dibbuk had to take a moment to think about it. She hadn''t been outwardly angry in a long time. Most of the things that made her mad also pissed Harvel off and with his over active sense of justice they tended to get taken care of pretty quickly. Messily, but quickly none-the-less.


    "I don''t know, just think of something. Call me a croc or a dino, you know? Stuff like that." She answered, gritting her teeth. If he failed at getting a rise out of her the frustration and embarrassment of the situation alone might be enough.


    "What?! I''m not doing that! I don''t say things like that." Selby complained, a panicked look spreading across his face.


    "What? I told you to do it, now get to it. I''m forgiving you in advance." She grunted, making another attempt at the boulder.


    Selby gave her an incredulous look. "No. I''m not doing that. I don''t believe in that kind of stuff." He said, crossing his arms defiantly. Dibbuk felt the beginnings of rage building up inside her.


    "I told you it was okay, now do it." She groaned, again making no progress.


    "No. I''m not like that!" Selby pleaded, attempting and failing at making eye contact. Dibbuk was too focused on the task at hand to look at much else. Why wouldn''t he just damn well do it? She''d told him it was fine.


    "You call me a croc, and then I''ll call you a squisher. We''ll be even." She reasoned, letting her snout rest against the stone for a second while she caught her breath. She didn''t like using the word "squisher", it was something she''d only ever seen used in online forums. She''d never heard it said out loud. It didn''t exactly make her comfortable to say it aloud either.


    "No! Also, you have a word for us? How did I never know that?" Selby protested. That was it. Dibbuk was officially fed up with his shit.


    ''No one ever listens. No one ever damn well listens. All they do is talk. Talk! Talk! Talk! And when it finally comes time to listen they just don''t. Harvel doesn''t listen, Yiddek doesn''t listen, and now fucking Selby! People have called me croc my whole goddamn life behind my back and now the one time I need to hear it to my face they wont!'' Dibbuk raged quietly.


    She could hear various refusals and complaints coming from Selby, but for the first time she didn''t listen. She was tired of listening. Tired of letting everyone tell her what to do. Tired of following Harvel around, dealing with his savior complex. Tired of looking at all the boulders in her life and never trying to move them.


    In that moment Dibbuk let go. She let go of the reservations she''d applied to every conversation she''d ever had. She let go of all memories she had of teachers and managers watching her with pity, like she had some sort of disability. She let go of every time Harvel had stepped in on her problems and made them a thousand times worse. She let go of everything. Everything, except the boulder.


    With all of her rage centered solely on the slab of rock in front of her she felt the world close in. Pressing her forehead against the cool stone and focusing her mind until even Selbys complaints faded into white noise. It was just her and the rock. Her, the rock, and every last frustration she''d felt since childhood.


    She wanted to be herself. She wanted people to stop trying to do everything and plan everything for her. She wanted to be strong willed and angry for once in her life. She wanted to stop letting Harvel be angry for her and just be angry. She wanted, above all else at the moment, to Move! This! Fucking! Boulder!


    With a pull, filled with the rage of the last twenty six years of her life, she felt the tons of stone she was embracing shift. Rocks and bricks began to tumble, one by one, onto the top of Dibbuks head. She pressed her forehead into the rock until she felt it would split, and pulled again. More stones shifted, this time falling into the space behind the boulder.


    She was so focused that she almost forgot which side of her Selby had been standing on. She''d have to pull it towards the unbroken portion of the wall to avoid turning him into a crimson streak. As she pulled she could feel the bricks under her feet begin to fracture with each step.


    The thought that the tunnel might not be structurally sound enough to withstand thousands of pounds of stone falling into it had crossed her mind earlier, unfortunately her anger had nonchalantly shoved it to the side. At the moment though anger was noisily being escorted out of the front door in hand cuffs while anxiety was giving her brain police a statement with a bloody nose. Finally reality set in.


    ''I might have played a rather stupid game here.'' Dibbuk thought as the floor of the tunnel began to sink further under her feet. As she let go of the stone and watched it tip into the abyss that had now opened behind it, she looked back at the rest of the team. She only saw three of them. That''s when she felt the tugging under both of her shoulders.


    She managed to elbow Wicksomme with just enough force to toss him back towards the rest of the group, hopefully sparing his ribcage. Selby on the other hand was latched on like a tick. Dibbuk could hear the bricks shifting under her feet and despite how well meaning Selby was he had no chance of holding her up if they gave way.


    "Get. Off. Of. Me." Dibbuk growled, hoping the severity of her tone might convey the severity of the situation. She might still be able to jump off of the slab she was standing on, but if Selby were still hanging on she might land on top of him. Even if she didn''t make it she might have a chance of actually living through the fall.


    Selby on the other hand was almost certainly doomed. If the fall or the rocks didn''t kill him, her landing on top of him wherever the bottom was certainly would. This was a numbers game in the moment and she needed to subtract one from it. Hopefully Selby would just do the math himself and take the hint.


    She felt his arms tighten, and just like that anger had burst back into the building and was kicking over trash cans. ''Fuck it.'' Dibbuk thought. Her elbow, with considerably more force this time connected with Selbys chest, breaking his grip and flinging him over the heads of the other team members.


    With that last shift of weight the slab broke free and began sliding away beneath her feet. Dibbuk made a final desperate attempt to kick off and grab for the bricks behind her but fell short. As the sensation of falling set in she had time for one more thought before she plunged into the depths below, ''Oh...Stupid games, stupid prizes.''

 Chapter 17: "You got a knife on you?"

    Lemmy drank the final dregs of his soup in solitary silence. It was unthinkable. The fact that Asha was now his employer wasn''t so bad. The fact that Asha was also, as of a year ago, legally his better half hadn''t been either. The fact that he hadn''t designed a single new engine concept since becoming Lemmy Meadows-Greigs, was. He had his own special project of course, but that was far from finished. Actually it was far from even being an engine.


    It was like she took pleasure in ripping him away from his work to do her odd jobs. At least once a month she''d send him away on some sort of wild goose chase for information he didn''t even know to look for. He''d even moved his garage away from the Dome to put some distance between them. This hadn''t worked in any tangible way, but he at least felt like he''d tried.


    At first he''d thought that Asha wanted them to spend more time together. As heartwarming as this delusion had been at first it had been just that. By the third time she''d declined to come with him or even keep regular contact with him during these little escapades Lemmy had accepted the reality. His wife, however much he wanted her to, probably didn''t much care for him as a person.


    Oh, she recognized his value in some capacity. Whether it was his meticulous eye for detail or his social standing that she tended to use as a billy club, he couldn''t be quite sure. Lemmy had made the same stupid mistake that many attention starved people did. He''d mistaken her attention for affection.


    Now that he could look back on it with a more conscious eye he could remember that their "dates'''' had come off more like job interviews. Which job exactly he wasn''t sure. By the time they were engaged, Meadows Mercantile had already bought out Greigs Aeronautical and had even changed its name to Greigs Aerodyne. She''d said that it worked better to attract the private sector.


    He didn''t quite understand that either. Ninety percent of all their revenue came from government projects anyways. They''d secured contracts for another two capital ships from Valka National in the last year alone, leaving them far above profitable. Why they would need to pander to the private sector now was a mystery to him.


    At first he''d almost been excited about being useful to her, though this had worn off quickly. Most of the assignments she''d given him had bordered on asinine. Recording traffic flow at a busy intersection up north. Reorganizing and sorting through the Meadows records from the last hundred years. Taking care of her uncles cat out west.


    Actually, the month he''d spent taking care of Wilson had been quite enjoyable as well as enlightening. His parents had never allowed him or his sisters to keep animals in the house. They''d pointed out that they didn''t want to have to clean up after an animal, but this had only confused a seven year old Lemmy. Even by that age he knew they didn''t clean their own house. Or their second house. Or their third.


    His Father had later told him that pets were a "quaint concept" and only served people who would rather socialize with an animal than a person. To his credit, this hadn''t been entirely untrue in Lemmy''s case. The thought of spending his time with a doe-eyed puppy certainly beat the thought of spending it with his boring, social-hierarchy motivated family any day of the week.


    For what it was worth, he didn''t hate them. He couldn''t really find it in him to hate them. He just didn''t find it enjoyable or particularly enriching to talk to the majority of his family. They weren''t exactly pleasant people to converse with. It seemed like every conversation was an argument you didn''t realize you were having.


    On the topic of arguments, it seemed like the scruffy man he''d been told to follow was in the middle of a rather heated one himself. He didn''t recognize him, or the woman, but the old man stirred up a familiar feeling inside of him. He could swear he''d seen him around the garages and vehicle depots near his workshop.


    The heap they''d rode in on seemed a bit familiar as well, though you tended to see a lot of ambulances in need of repairs. He''d certainly never spoken to the old man but the other shop owners seemed to give him plenty of respect as a rule. At least that''s how it came off to him during the monthly SOA meetings. His name was Al or something, but from what he''d gathered they all called him Donny.


    Him being here may have been a coincidence, then again Lemmy had learned there was no such thing as coincidence when it came to Ashas assignments. This being no different than the rest she''d somehow known ahead of time when and where the ambulance was going to crash. She''d even gotten which table they would sit at right. It was uncanny just how precise she could be at times.


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    Lemmy ran his finger over the button on the little box she''d given him. If anything were to go wrong he was to push it, grab the scruffy man and run. What qualified as wrong he had no clue. What the button did, he had no clue. Where he was supposed to run to he had no clue either. All she''d told him was to press it, grab him, don''t look back.


    The table where the group were sitting had quieted down after the food had come. At the moment the man he knew as Donny was inspecting the scruffy guy''s fingers. Lemmy tried to take notes as inconspicuously as he could though he wasn''t exactly a professional. Half of them came out slanted down the page while he tried not to look directly at the paper nor the table they pertained to.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    "Weird, there''s little ridges where the fractures were. It''s almost like something filled ��em in. Could you hold up your other hand next to it real quick?" Aldon said, curiously running his fingers over the bumps under Harvels skin. Harvel obliged.


    He lined up the thumbs on each of his hands and fully extended his fingers. It was hardly noticeable but the ring and pinky fingers on his left hand seemed ever so slightly longer than on the right. He thought back to when he''d felt his shoulders earlier and squeezed one of the ridges. It was squishy and malleable like a sponge. When he pulled his fingers away the ridge reformed, expanding back into its original shape.


    "Aldon, do you mind having a look at my back too?" Harvel asked, moving to pull up the back of his shirt.


    "That sounds like a great idea. Why don''t you two go do that in the bathroom? I''ll look after our table." Parker interjected before Aldon could respond. He seemed a bit thrown off by the outburst but Aldon shook off his surprise and led Harvel into the back of the restaurant.


    Parker waited until they were out of sight to refocus her attention. The man at the table next to them had been there before they were. He''d been nursing his bowl of soup for far too long and had been taking notes and sending them sideways glances for the better part of an hour. If he was a spy he was terrible at it.


    He wasn''t a mercenary. The lack of overcompensating tattoos and a plate carrier covered in "Special Forces" patches you could buy online proved that. He kept reaching into his pocket and fiddling with something nervously. Suicide bomber? Maybe, but then why the notes? Who was going to read them once he was crispy?


    Parker laid down across the booth and pretended to check her phone. Using the reflection from the screen and her eyes to filter out the excess light, she could make out a few of the notes on his page. Most of them were about Harvel, some about her, though she wasn''t sure what "buff nasty" meant, and the rest were about Aldon.


    Nothing specific like movement patterns or weaknesses to speak of. He''d written down when they''d gotten here, what they''d eaten and that he thought he might know Aldon from somewhere. It was almost like he knew nothing about them to begin with. Any good spy would likely already have most of the information he''d prioritized.


    He seemed nervous. Nervous was good. Nervous was usually talkative. Normally she would wait for Aldon and Harvel to get back in case things went sideways but she''d sent them away on purpose. No need for Harvel to accidentally tell the little man more than she might squeeze out of him.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    "Is it bad? Aldon? Seriously, what''s going on? You went all quiet." Harvel asked, staring down at the bathroom sink. He''d been standing there with his shirt pulled up over the top of his head for the last few minutes while Aldon poked and prodded his wounds.


    "Uh, honestly I couldn''t tell you, but I don''t think skin should be all wrinkly and orange-ish green right? It doesn''t hurt does it?" Aldon commented, giving one of the bright orange growths another prod with a chopstick he''d snagged from their table.


    "No, but I can feel you prodding it. Wait, what do you mean by wrinkly and orangish green?" Harvel asked, twisting his torso as he tried to get an angle from the mirror.


    "Well, you ever seen the bottom of a mushroom? Wrinkly kind of like that. It''s orange as a traffic cone but if I move my head it turns green like canal water. Weird stuff kid. Weird stuff." Aldon said, significantly muffled this time. Harvel let his shirt down and leaned on the sink for a moment. He gave Aldon a quizzical look as he pulled his shirt off of his nose and mouth.


    "What? I thought it might be contagious!" He said, tossing the used chopstick into the trash next to them.


    "Uh-huh... You got a knife on you?" Harvel asked, putting his jacket back on.


    "I ain''t cutting it out for you if that''s what you''re asking." Aldon answered, placing a defensive hand over his back pocket.


    "What? No no no. I want to do a test cut or something. Something small to see if it heals up quick like the others. Somewhere I can see it for myself preferably." Harvel quickly explained. It might not be the smartest idea if injuries made it more severe but at this point a small cut was just a drop in the bucket. Aldon shifted his jaw back and forth in annoyance for a moment before relenting.


    "Alright, fine. But if it''s my knife we''re using, I''m making the cut. Now sit down on that toilet seat and grab some shit tickets. Don''t want you bleeding all over Auntie Hoang''s bathroom." He said, whipping out a six inch folding knife and snapping it open.

 Chapter 18: "Lemmy, well Limerick, but everyone calls me Lemmy."

    Lemmy focused on his paper for a minute while he wrote. "Went into bathroom together, left lady outside in the booth." When he looked up the lady was gone as well. He began to write this down but as he got to "gone as w-" he was interrupted.


    "Your water sir?" a voice said from above his head. He knew he had a full glass already but if the service was this good there was no need to be rude and refuse.


    "Oh, thank y-" Lemmy began to say as he looked up, but stopped short. Parker placed the glass down on his notes before he finished the sentence. "Yooouuu..." he trailed off as she sat down across from him.


    "You indeed." Parker said, crossing her arms. She made a point to flex a bit as she did. Showing off the guns generally loosened people up a bit. Plus if she needed it her spare pistol was under her left armpit, and a little quicker to get to from this position.


    "Y-you wouldn''t happen to be about to ask me how the f-food was w-would you?" Lemmy stuttered, hastily putting his pen on the table and getting it as far away from his hand as he possibly could. The way she was staring at him he could swear she was looking at his soul.


    "No. I am about to ask you who hired you, and why they would hire such an amateur." Parker clarified, tapping his notepad with her free hand. The taunt felt a little extra but it seemed to have gotten the point across.


    "Ah, you are? Well, um. My wife, I guess." Lemmy blurted, sweat beginning to accumulate on the top of his scalp. His mind had raced to come up with some sort of lie but it had blown a tire and left him standing on the side of the road with the truth.


    "You guess? I see. Can you go ahead and guess what that thing in your pocket does as well?" Parker added patiently. She unlocked her left eye and pointed it at his pocket for a bit of extra effect. She could move them independently whenever she wanted but as it screwed up her depth perception she normally kept them in sync.


    "Um, it may be the trigger to a bomb... I don''t know. She told me to press it when things went wrong." Lemmy explained, unnerved by both her eye and the sentence he''d just spoken. "I don''t think it''ll blow anything up in here, cause I''m in here too." He continued, noticing Parkers muscles tensing up.


    "Does what''s going on at this moment count as things going wrong?" Parker asked, locking her eye back into place.


    "A-are you going to hurt me or that scruffy man you''re with?" Lemmy asked, relieved at the slight return to normalcy.


    "No. Not if you don''t give me a reason." Parker replied, palm still resting on the grip of her pistol.


    "Then I don''t think this counts. Look, I don''t know if I''m on anyone''s side in this but if I am it''s probably yours." Lemmy pleaded. He really didn''t want to find out what the button was for if he could help it.


    "That''s good to hear. Next, what''s your name?" Parker asked, slipping her hand off of her weapon.


    "Lemmy. Well, Limerick, but everyone calls me Lemmy." He replied, squirming in his seat. He wasn''t quite sure about telling her the whole truth. He could now see the pistol in full view. He didn''t know anything about weapons really. Only that you didn''t want to be on the side the barrel was pointing at.


    "Good, there''s the first. What''s the last?" Parker asked, her annunciation leaning toward frighteningly sweet.


    "Last? I''m not quite sure what you mean." Lemmy said, eyes still glued to the pistol. He might be able to feign stupidity and get away with it. Parker sighed. She hadn''t wanted things to go this way.


    "Watch this." She said, raising her hand toward a server momentarily. "Could you bring us an extra fork please?" She asked, prompting the server to begin walking back towards the kitchen.


    "Why do we need a fo-" Lemmy began before he felt something hard press into his knee. His eyes locked back onto the now vacant space where the pistol had been.


    "Lemmy, don''t test me. Now, last?" Parker said, right arm below the table. Lemmy swallowed hard.


    "Greigs. Limerick Meadows-Greigs. Sorry." Lemmy choked out. A wave of relief washed over him as he felt the gun pull away from his kneecap.


    "Don''t be. Everybody gets one. That in mind I hope you''ll be more forward with information from this point onwards, yes?" Parker said, sliding the pistol back into its resting place.


    "Yes, yes of course. I know it''s not my place to ask questions, but how do you know I''m not lying?" He asked, trying to steady his nerves. He wasn''t lying of course but some idiotic part of him couldn''t help but be curious.


    "I can see your brain Lemmy. Certain parts light up when people lie." Parker answered, no semblance of emotion in her expression. That was a lie. When most people made up fake names on the fly they tended to be much less creative than "Limerick". It was usually Johns, James'', and Jessicas across the board in her experience.


    "Oh." Lemmy said under his breath. The bluff seemed to have worked. It tended to work on anyone unfamiliar with the limits of ocular prosthetics. Of course she could see how hard his heart was beating from the way his throat kept bulging, but you could have seen that with normal eyes from a mile away.


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    "Now, Lemmy, who might your wife be? If you don''t mind me asking." Parker asked, making her eyes whir in and out of focus. She''d learned a long time ago that unnerving people was actually quite easy. As long as you were alright with a bit of a headache afterwards all you had to do was move the little slider labeled sharpness back and forth a couple times.


    "Um, I''m not sure she would appreciate me telling you. She can be a bit... intense." Lemmy mumbled, rubbing the sweat from his palms on his pants.


    "Lemmy, I happen to be aware of who Asha Meadows-Greigs is, and I understand why you might be hesitant to sell out your wife. But, and I can''t stress this enough, Asha is not here right now. I am." Parker explained, annunciating as many syllables as she could.


    She didn''t necessarily want to be as threatening as she was being at the moment. Aldon had taught her that avoiding violence while inspiring fear was the key, but it wasn''t like he was an expert on keeping that balance himself. She''d seen him blow out his fair share of kneecaps during interrogations. Of course, those men had all had names like "Cutter" Moseby and "Roaster" Westcott, but there had been a significant deficit in kneecaps afterwards all the same.


    Parker didn''t enjoy interrogations. She''d definitely killed or maimed plenty of people during gunfights, but at least they shot back. It was, in a way, mutual. Interrogations on the other hand, no matter how many people the information saved, felt sadistic. Keeping a level head during the process was not an easy task.


    Not an easy task when you were desperately attempting to hold down your lunch after the first broken finger. Not an easy task when all you really wanted was to be back at home with your cat and a big plate of chicken over rice after a long day. Not an easy task when you knew that if you showed even a hint of remorse they might use that to stall and an innocent hostage might die.


    At the moment it helped that she didn''t believe it would come to that with Lemmy. The good thing was that he didn''t seem to know all that much to begin with. The bad thing was that even the information he had was hardly usable. A button that could potentially do anything and a wife so high up on the social ladder that if she spit it would hit terminal velocity and likely kill her by the time it got to her level.


    "Did she tell you what to do once you''ve pressed the button?" Parker asked, hoping for some semblance of useful information.


    "Yeah, grab your friend and run." Lemmy answered, an embarrassed expression passing across his face.


    "Run where?" Parker asked, glancing around the room for any points of egress she might have missed.


    "I don''t know. She just said to run." Lemmy clarified, shrugging his shoulders in defeated acceptance.


    "Fuck. Well, that''s not very helpful is it?" Parker said, slumping back into her chair. Parkers phone vibrated. Careful not to take one of her eyes off of Lemmy, she checked it under the table. It was from Aldon.


    It read: "How''s it looking out there? Need to get Harvel out of here soon. Something weird going on with him."


    "Not good. I think that would be a good idea. How weird? Weirder than the hand thing?" Parker texted back. She waited a few seconds before a response came through.


    "Weird. Guy is turning into some kind of mushroom or something. Gonna try to get Hoang''s son to let us out the back. What does "not good" mean? Just a feeling or you got something concrete?" Aldon texted back. Parker decided that texting a full explanation would take too much time.


    "Coming back there. Got someone you''ll want to meet." She typed. Sending out the message she re-synched her eyes and pulled out the gun under the table.


    "I need you to come with me. Bring the button. No arguments please." She demanded, pressing the barrel into Lemmy''s knee again.


    "O-of course. Lead the way." Lemmy complied, nodding profusely.


    Neither Parker nor Lemmy were quite prepared for what awaited them in the bathroom. Harvel was, for lack of a better term, fused to the side of the stall. An orange, spongey growth, the size of a small tree extended from the floor to the ceiling, encasing Harvels right forearm, effectively trapping him inside. Miniscule green particles, glinting in the dim light emanating from above the sink, had filled the room like a dense fog.


    "Cover your face. Probably don''t want to breathe much of this crap in." Aldon shouted as they walked in.


    "What the fuck happened?! Is that what''s keeping him alive?" Parker asked, promptly pulling her shirt over her face. Lemmy shook off his shock and quickly did the same.


    "Don''t look at me, he''s the one who suggested we do a test cut. I may have cut a bit too deep. It just sort of shot out of there and pinned him. Wait, who''s he?" Aldon explained, pointing to his folding knife, still lodged in the side of the growth.


    Parker pushed Lemmy towards Aldon. "Tell him what you told me. Harvel, are you alright? You conscious?" She said, keeping a respectable distance from the open stall.


    Harvel let out a groan. "Yeah. Wish I wasn''t. I think I might be sick." He replied. Parker couldn''t tell if it was the mist or his skin but there was something very green about the way he looked.


    "I''m going to try to get you out alright?" Parker said, giving the growth a forceful pull. The substance felt as if it were rooted in place with steel bolts. With every attempt more and more green particles permeated the air.


    "Stop! Stop! Hurts! Why does it hurt?" Harvel whined, clutching at the orange folds surrounding his arm.


    "Look, I know it hurts, but we''ve got to get you out of there." Parker said, still mid tug.


    "No, I mean, it hurts, and I can feel it. Jesus I can taste the floor. Why can I taste the fucking floor? I think I''m about to be sick." Harvel moaned, lurching forwards and clutching at his stomach. He felt as if his insides were being moved around like one of those shifting tile puzzles.


    His mind was a torrent of different smells, tastes, sights and textures. He tried to close his eyes but he could still see the bathroom as if he were inspecting every square inch from a millimeter away. Images, flowing in as if from millions of microscopic eyes, were slamming full force into his skull all at once. It was like cramming thirty pounds of souvenirs into a carry on bag. The zippers were holding for now but he could almost hear them popping tooth by tooth.


    He could smell Aldons sweat in the air. He could taste the plaster in the ceiling and the unspeakable things that coated the floor tiles. He''d felt Parker''s attempts to free him as if she were trying to rip his own skin off, and could see the capillaries in her hands expanding. Whatever It was, It was also Harvel.

 Chapter 19: Meat Cavern

    Dibbuk was having the most wonderful day. It was a Saturday. The Zef was shining, and she was sitting on the edge of her favorite dock. A stack of her favorite comics nearly as tall as she sat beside her. Her hand was aching a bit but hey, that''s what happened when you''ve been holding open your favorite stories all day.


    She''d just finished with Tales of Earth #12 and was reaching for #13 when her implant went off. It was a phone call from Harvel. Odd, he almost never called her on their days off, usually out of principle. They didn''t get a lot of alone time both living and working together and both found it best to respect each others space when they could.


    Dibbuk waved the display over and accepted the call. "What''s up? Gotta be something wrong if you''re calling." She asked expectantly. If he was calling her it probably had nothing to do with money, he knew they were both equally broke. Could be something from work if he was feeling dutiful.


    "The flo-... Why can I taste th-... Plaster and pi-... I''m gonna be si-... Orange and gre-... A million eyes all at on-... Who farte-..." Harvels voice said, seeping out of the implant, broken and at times distorted.


    "Harvel? What''s going on? You eat something bad? You need me to come home or something? Speak up." Dibbuk asked confusion slowly evolving into fear. Something sounded very wrong about him.


    "Dibbuk? I can hea-... Why can I h-... My brain, the pressu-... Make it sto-... Make a hole myse-..." Harvel continued, sounding more labored with each stop and start.


    "Harvel? You''re going to be okay, I''m gonna find yo-" Dibbuk began, but before she could finish the call cut off. Dibbuk stared flabbergasted as the little glasses icon she''d assigned to him blinked a couple of times before disappearing entirely. She began picking up her comics as panic started to set in. He''d almost sounded like...


    She was about to start on her unread pile but noticed something out of the corner of her eye. The next book on the pile wasn''t in fact Tales of Earth #13. The cover had changed somehow. It was Waste and Wonders #1, a comic she hadn''t read in years. She was pretty sure she''d lost it a long time ago.


    As she moved to pick it up her claw stopped, hovering over the volume. The cover was different. It was a human and a Tar-Khal standing defiantly in front of a wall of green mist. There hadn''t been any of her people in the comics before, at least not that she could remember. She carefully peeled back the cover.


    It was blank inside. Just a black page, still seemingly slick with ink. Then, everything went blank. The sunshine that had previously warmed her like a blanket was gone, replaced by a damp darkness that coated her face. The sounds and smells of the harbor replaced by rushing water and the acrid fumes of the sewer.


    ''I''m hanging?... I think?'' Dibbuk thought, groggily glancing up at her arm. Her claws were lodged deep into something. Her implants clock was blinking, one half of the image distorted. ''That explains the aching claw. What is this stuff?'' She thought, wiggling her claws in the soft, rubbery substance.


    Reaching over her shoulder she turned on her emergency light with her free hand. It didn''t look like dirt. Dirt wasn''t orange on Liberum as far as she knew. She didn''t know how long she had been hanging but whatever she was dug into was strong, stronger than it had any right to be as far as Dibbuk was concerned. She''d only caught it by the one claw.


    She turned the light around and checked her position. She was in some sort of shaft, probably created by the cave in. The soft orange stuff seemed to run through the brownish red clay around her, giving it a slightly marbled look. She couldn''t seem to get comfortable with the sight. It reminded her a bit too much of meat.


    There was a persisting shadow about fifteen feet above her, on the opposite side of the shaft. ''Might be something. I''m gonna have to get my weight off of my wrist and down doesn''t appear to be much of an option.'' She thought, bracing her hind legs and starting the process of dislodging her fingers.


    As strong as the stuff must have been it wasn''t exactly hard to get a hold on. If anything she had to be careful not to dig her hind claws into the same situation her hand was in. Without the weight of her body to keep it there her claw came free rather easy. How well it held on seemed to have something to do with the pressure applied.


    Once her perch was stable she took a look at the shadow. She could jump, but the force would probably just sink her legs up to the knee. Down was an option... technically. She pulled a flare out of her waist pocket and pulled the ignition cap off with her teeth. Dibbuk groaned in pain as she fought every reflex to let go of the wall and claw out her eyes which now ached horrendously.


    She pushed herself away from the wall a bit and tossed the little red bastard behind her. Dibbuk watched through her legs as the flare fell until it was dim as a distant star, before disappearing altogether. She sighed. ''Up it is then.'' She affirmed, setting her sights back on the shadow above.


    Moving slowly and carefully she managed to keep her weight on at least three of her claws at all times. While she still had to force each appendage out of it''s resting place with considerable effort, it was at least laborious instead of impossible. She''d managed to get about ten feet up when something caught her eye.


    A little red light, dim as a distant star, was getting considerably less so as it came hurtling down the shaft. She had enough time to shake off her confusion and shield her eyes as the flare whistled past and into the darkness below. Dibbuk stared in bewilderment as the flare again dimmed before disappearing.


    ''Right. That, wasn''t my flare. Right? I mean, I haven''t eaten in a while, and I probably hit my head.'' She thought, concentrating on moving her way up again. She only had about fifteen or twenty feet left before she could get to it. Actually, if she thought about it, she should be able to see it by now right?


    The flare had distracted her enough with it''s existence that she hadn''t bothered to use the light it may or may not have provided. She turned again. She thanked her lucky stars for the first time in a very long time. It was indeed a hole. To where she couldn''t be sure, but if she had to choose between this hole and that one, the latter won out every time.


    Then, as she was only about ten feet from from the edge of the hole, the red flare whizzed by her again. ''Nope, nope, nope. Not going to think about it. Just keep moving and I can ponder why anyone else would have red flares besides me once I''m no longer stuck to the side of a,'' Dibbuk shivered at the thought, ''meat cavern.''


    She''d bought them herself. The night before she''d actually gone out and gotten new red flares to replace her company provided green ones. Something about the green ones had given her a bad feeling since the incident. Seeing as most of her bad feelings lately had panned out horribly, and her good ones had as well, she''d decided to stop ignoring the bad ones. This was currently a policy under review as she desperately wanted to ignore the feeling of being inside of a cheese filled convenience store hotdog.


    After another few moments of climbing Dibbuk was able to swing herself into the safe haven of the hole. Using her flash-light to light her way she walked a few yards down the tunnel. It kept going for a few yards then terminated just around a bend. Dibbuk held her hand up to the wall. It felt warm to the touch. ''Might be something behind here, but for now I should wait for the team if I can.'' She thought, turning back towards the opening.


    She rested her back against the wall of the tunnel, and slid down until her knees were touching her chest. As she rubbed the fatigue from her eyes the flare went spiraling past the opening again. ''Maybe it is mine. I don''t remember leaving any at the station or on the cart. Maybe this place is in some sort of time loop. Maybe I died and this is just what hell is like.'' Dibbuk thought, staring down at her hind claws, stained and glistening from the clay and "cheese" as she''d taken to calling it.


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    ''I really hope I''m not dead. I don''t feel dead. Even if I''m not, I might die down here anyways. I don''t even have a book to read.'' She thought, tapping her implant. She couldn''t tell what time it was still. All it said was @&:17 as it flickered out again. She''d stored most of her books, save for the comics, on the little button sized device in case she''d ever needed them. Fat lot of good that had done her.


    The flare sped past again. The time loop theory was becoming more and more likely by the minute. Even if it was the team, and even if they had red flares as well, there wouldn''t be a reason to keep tossing them down over and over. She felt the grim reality of her situation begin to set in.


    Dibbuk pulled her pack off of her shoulders and sifted through the contents. She had packed half a case of fruit bars as lunch, and maybe having something in her stomach would lift her spirits. It did, for a little while. Though the bar tasted of buunchal at first, the flavor waned as she swallowed each bite. By the time she''d finished the last of the bar it only tasted like mush and despair.


    She''d never envisioned dying like this. Of course, Tar-Khal lived quite a bit longer than humans so the surrounded by her family and loved ones scenario had never been quite realistic. Yiddek might be there. That was comforting. Her mum, her dad, Harvel even, they''d all be long dead by then. Not so comforting.


    But, she wasn''t surrounded by her loved ones. She was in a hole. In the ground. Probably trapped in some sort of time loop. And, as she listlessly bit into the second of her fruit bars all she could think about was how she''d rather be eating her mums fruit soup, or her dads vegetable chili. Then all she could think about was that she might never see either of them again.


    The tears came easier than they ever had. Dibbuk hadn''t cried since that night in jail before her sentencing and even then she''d fought to keep them down. She hadn''t wanted the guards to laugh at her. It didn''t matter now though. The impending sense of doom far outweighed her shame. With nobody around to watch her breakdown occur she let her longing for home take her.


    The flare whizzed past again.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Lier grabbed Wicksommes arm by the wrist, mid toss. "Did you see where the first one went?" He asked, peeling the lit flare out of the young mans hand.


    "Um, no. No I didn''t sir." answered Wicksomme sheepishly.


    "Then why did you throw the other four?" Lier asked, tossing the crimson flare behind his shoulder. He''d watched the kid light them one after another, timing them almost exactly two minutes apart, and tossing them down the hole.


    "Sorry sir, I just... I don''t know what else to do..." Wicksomme answered, his shoulders slumping even further.


    Lier sighed. He couldn''t blame him too much. Search and rescue wasn''t something they trained for extensively these days. "Well, just don''t do it again. Where''d you even get these?" He asked, noticing another two in Wicksommes other hand.


    Wicksomme pointed over to a pile of rubble near where Dibbuk had fallen. A couple of unlit flares were jutting out of the debris. "I think she might have dropped them earlier. I figured I might as well use them first." He answered, walking over and pulling a few more out of the pile and handing them to Lier.


    "Huh, not standard issue that''s for sure. Smart though. We only buy the green ones because they''re what the city''ll pay for. The red ones help you keep your night vision. Hold on to those." Lier said, tucking a couple into his breast pocket before depositing the other two in one of Wicksommes.


    "Wow, always knew she was smart. That''s some next level stuff right there." Wicksomme commented, inspecting one of the flares still in his hand.


    "Is smart. Not was, is. Try to think about it like that until we know for sure. It''s been a couple hours so the others should be almost on their way back with the winch. If Selby hasn''t already slit his own wrists out of guilt, that is." Lier stated, giving the young man a reassuring smile.


    "I just wish I would have done more." Wicksomme murmured, dejectedly sitting on one of the many stones strewn around them.


    "No, you don''t. Valez took a chance and paid for it. She made the decision of making sure you and Klagbender didn''t. If it weren''t for that we''d be looking for three people instead of one. Don''t forget it." Lier said, rapping his knuckles on Wicksommes helmet.


    "I wont. Never will." Wicksomme agreed.


    "Good, then you can thank her when we find her." Lier assured him. He was actually quite proud of Valez for the most part. Moving the boulder, even with Marys approval, had been pretty goddamn stupid, but throwing Wicksomme and Klagbender off had been one of the most responsible bits of critical thinking he''d ever seen in this line of work.


    If she was dead he''d sweep the boulder thing under the rug as best he could. Have her name put up on a wall in the station even if he had to carve it in himself. If she was alive he''d have to come up with some sort of disciplinary action first and commend her later. Either way he couldn''t see himself being angry about it in the end.


    ''Don''t know how I''m gonna repay her.'' Lier heard as it echoed around in his skull.


    ''Good, then you have a million different options.'' Lier thought as he slapped the dust off of his sleeves. He didn''t hear the voice from the dark pipe up very often any more, mostly when he was trying to unnerve Gillis. But, when it spoke, he listened. No matter how trivial.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Dibbuk raised her head from it''s resting place on her forearms. Something was off. For the last few minutes she''d been too wracked with grief to notice, but now that she had calmed down a bit there was a particular detail missing. The flare hadn''t passed by again since she''d been sulking.


    ''Did it get lodged in the wall somewhere?'' She thought, peering out over the edge of the alcove. She couldn''t see light emanating from anywhere below. Above her extended only the blackness of the void. She continued to watch for a few more minutes to be entirely sure.


    Maybe she could make it happen again. At this point it might be the only entertainment she''d have for the rest of eternity. Dibbuk reached for the pocket she''d dedicated to flares. As her claws brushed one she realized that it was in fact the only one left. She''d had nearly ten of them when she''d left the station.


    "Oh. Oh, shit! I must''ve..." Dibbuk said, patting down the rest of the pockets lining her suit. It hadn''t been the same flare. It hadn''t been the same flare! ''Oh, you absolute idiot! Assuming all kinds of stupid shit in the moment.'' She thought, relief washing over her so intensely it nearly brought tears to her eyes again.


    She looked at the flare she had left. She had to contact them somehow. Obviously the flare wouldn''t have enough weight to make it back up the shaft but... Dibbuk searched around in her pockets and pulled out a length of fishing line. She wasn''t survival expert but her dad had always told her to bring fishing line. You never knew how useful it might be.


    Using her emergency light she scanned the floor. ''Ah, beautiful.'' She thought, picking a stone out of the clay and "cheese". Flat and slightly oblong shaped, it probably weighed about five pounds. Perfect for her purposes. She only really had one chance at this. It wasn''t a perfect plan but it was something.


    Dibbuk held the unlit flare against the stone while she wrapped the fishing line around them about twenty times. She cut the extra line off with a claw and stowed it back in her pocket. It looked a little rough around the edges but it would have to do. ''No second chances.'' She thought, eyeing the shaft stretching out above her.


    She held onto a solid chunk of "cheese" as she leaned out over the void. She''d have to really chuck the thing to give it the momentum it needed to potentially reach the top. She knew she had the power to do it, it was the aim that was really important. If she fucked it up and lodged it in the clay that''d be her ass.


    Dibbuk had spent plenty of time skipping dislodged pieces of concrete across the harbor with her brothers. Of course Harvel had never stood a chance at beating her record, and though Yiddek had often given her a run for her money, she''d always walked away undefeated from their little contests. She let the stone settle in between her first and third claw.


    She took a deep breath and squared up to make the throw. She''d been unwittingly training her whole life for this moment. ''Don''t screw this up.'' Dibbuk thought, pulling the ignition. The light illuminated the cavern in crimson, accentuating each bump and cheesy vein that ran through it.


    For the first time since that moment at the switch station, she felt the air change. The eyes were back. They were there, at the very edge of the light. Looking down at her knowingly. ''What happens if I throw this? Will it be as... polite as last time?'' Dibbuk thought, staring deep into the wall of what she could only imagine was evil.


    "You''ll have to find out for yourself. You are welcome to try."


    Dibbuk felt the words echo before seemingly wrapping themselves around her brain, pushing out all other thoughts. She strained her eyes, trying to focus, not on the eyes, but on the space behind it. Would the flare get through? It wasn''t solid was it?


    She could throw the rock, and it might do what? Eat her or something? At least someone might know she was alive. She could stay her hand and it might kill her anyway. She didn''t know if there was a way to win this. ''Why is it always something? What the fuck are you?'' Dibbuk asked, rage seeping into her thoughts.


    "I, am polite. You, on the other hand are being quite rude, Dibbuk."


    ''You might have a point there. How do you know my name?'' Dibbuk thought, staring deep into the void where the voice should be.


    "I''m in your head. I''m in your brothers head. Though, it seems that might change if he can''t get ahold of himself."


    ''And would that be your doing? You gonna kill him? Finish the job?'' Dibbuk thought, gripping the rock tighter.


    "Oh, no. I wouldn''t do that. Not when he''s been faring so well. I can''t guarantee he won''t do it himself though. I have hope that he''ll work his way through it, but with these things you never quite know."

 Chapter 20: "If it goes, I go."

    "What the fuck is that? Is that his arm?" Lemmy asked, peeking into the stall as Parker let go of the growth. It was steadily spreading, working it''s way across the ceiling and floor. It seemed to be making a bee line for the drain sunken into the middle of the linoleum.


    Aldon shrugged, "Does it look like I know? Make yourself useful and keep a lookout from the bathroom door. An don''t try anything. I know your face sonny jim." He ordered, pulling Lemmy in close by the back of his neck.


    Lemmy didn''t need to be told twice. Once Aldon had let him go he stumbled over to the door and cracked it open. Everything seemed normal out in the dining area from what he could see. He couldn''t make much out but the street looked about as busy as it normally did. He thought he could see the blue and red flashes of police lights, but when couldn''t you in this city?


    "I''m gonna have a look at your arm. Don''t you dare throw up on me." Parker said, lightly slapping Harvel a few times. He was sweating and mumbling, continuously gulping down mouthfuls of his own saliva.


    "Can you hear me? If you don''t say anything I''m gonna start cutting that thing off of you." Parker said, holding his head steady to try and make eye contact. For a moment Harvels eyes focused on her, his face becoming clear and sober.


    "Time and time again...thanked them, for a piece of mind. They helped me find... the music and the rhyme." He sang weakly, his eyes losing focus, and rolling back in his head as he trailed off. Parker let go of Harvels forehead and let his head loll back onto his shoulders.


    "Shit! Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She asked, furiously rubbing her brow in frustration. If she had that button she''d be pushing it right now.


    "Who cares? Get to cutting him out already! I get the feeling we don''t have much time." Aldon barked, arms crossed impatiently.


    Parker grabbed the knife left suspended in the growth and pulled. It didn''t come loose easily. She had to put nearly all of her strength into it just sliding the blade out an inch at a time. It was almost like whatever the stuff was it was squeezing down on the blade. With a final tug it came loose, causing Harvel to jolt upright before slumping back down onto the stall wall.


    "Sorry in advance. This is probably gonna hurt." She said, giving Harvel a sympathetic look. He just sang something incoherent in response. She wasn''t sure what he''d said but it sounded like; "Castles of stone... and glory. Lost faces... adore you."


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    The tips of Ashas fingers drummed against the side of her head, causing the image of Pho Saigon projected into her eyes to vibrate a bit. She''d seen Lemmy, Harvel and the pair of pilots slip into the bathroom nearly ten minutes ago. She checked her mental time sheet again. Maybe ten more minutes left until things got truly interesting.


    She turned off the live feed and walked over to the window on the far side of her office. Staring out into the mass of whirring lights that formed the city of Boris Valka, she could practically see the restaurant from where she stood. She didn''t have to see it actually, Asha knew exactly where it was. She knew exactly where everything was, and that was exactly how she liked it.


    Asha paced back and forth waiting for the next step to take place. ''Cerise should be here any second now.'' She thought, eyes still laser focused in the direction of the eatery. He could be quite needy when He wanted to be. The elevator door at the other end of her office slid open.


    "Mrs. Meadows, a man named He wishes to see you in his office?" Her assistant Cerise said, stepping off of the elevator, keeping her eyes planted to the floor at Ashas feet. For a moment Asha kept pacing to see if Cerise''s head would move along with her.


    "Thank you Miss Nadir, and as I''ve mentioned before, you may look me in the eye when you speak to me. I get self conscious about people looking at my feet, that''s why we had those websites shut down, remember?" Asha said as she walked past Cerise and into the private elevator.


    "Yes ma''am, sorry, it''s just that your previous aide left an email that said-" Cerise began, quickly following Asha as the doors started to shut.


    "My previous aide was let go for posting the majority of what was found on those websites. I wouldn''t take his advice if I were you." Asha interrupted, shooting a wry smile Cerises way. Asha leaned over and pressed on a little piece of the metal near the bottom corner of the panel. She held her finger on the seamless, unmarked button for a moment, then drew her hand back and wiped her finger on the pants of her suit.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    She didn''t enjoy using dna locks, the pain was bearable but the mess they left behind was annoying at the best of times. Cerise offered her the handkerchief she was using to clean off the panel but Asha waved her away. She''d already used her suit as a twenty thousand credit napkin, no sense in changing her mind now.


    Cerise just stared bewildered. She knew how much that suit had cost, she''d been the one who''d ordered the tailoring. She had only been Mrs. Meadows aid for a few weeks, but she continued to be surprised with how little Mrs. Meadows could be concerned with money, yet so concerned with company finances.


    "Cerise, as my assistant you are to know what to discuss outside of work and what not to, is that correct?" Asha asked, watching Cerise as she finished wiping blood off of every millimeter of the elevator panel.


    "Yes ma''am, though I have a blanket policy of discussing nothing outside of these walls that occurs within them." Cerise replied, folding up the bloody handkerchief and slipping it back into her pocket.


    "Good. Then there''s nothing to worry about. What you are about to experience is never to leave the confines of this elevator. In fact, it is never to leave the confines of your own head, is that clear?" Asha asked, turning Cerise to face her.


    "My own head, ma''am?" Cerise asked, eyes locked on Ashas hand still resting on her shoulder. This was only the second time she''d ever been physically touched while at work. The first had ended in a rather costly lawsuit.


    "Yes, because, depending on the outcome of the next few days, someone in the near future may very well attempt to remove it through force. I need you to be ready for that." Asha explained, pressing the emergency stop button.


    "This," Asha turned and pulled her hair back to show a little black square embedded behind her ear, "is a personal digital back up. Every memory from my birth until this moment is stored here if I need it. If I am killed, or if I indicate I am under enough duress, it will wipe itself. I''ve had it tied to my cognitive functions, if it goes, I go. I''m not asking you to do the same, but I want you to understand the gravity of this situation."


    Cerise, ever the pragmatist asked, "And, if I say no?"


    Asha smiled. "Then I let you off at the lobby, you go home, I write you a letter of recommendation so glowing future employers will suspect you''ve killed someone on my behalf. That''s valuable in your line of work. Consider your answer carefully." She answered, checking her mental time sheet. Maybe another minute or two now.


    Cerise mulled over her options for a moment. She''d worked incredibly hard for this position, pulling and scraping her way up the corporate ladder for the last seven years. When the news had come down that Mrs. Meadows'' personal aide had been fired she''d nearly tripped on her way to submit her resume.


    When she''d gotten the job itself she was surprised just how little work compared to her previous positions she''d had to do. Mrs. Meadows practically did everything herself. As an intern her duties had been so vast and numerous that she''d barely slept for the first year and a half. Now her only errands had more to do with Mrs. Meadows'' husband than Mrs. Meadows herself.


    She''d been told that they were some sort of power couple, dealing in souls and evil and the like. They''d certainly come off as an odd pair at first, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Most of her duties involved delivering fresh clothes to Mr. Greigs'' garage, and dropping off lists of things for him to do. Exceptionally normal considering the lack of severed heads or briefcases filled with unmarked bills.


    This moment was probably the only time she''d seen this side of Mrs. Meadows'' business. The fact that she essentially had a dead-man switch in her brain was a bit of a leap in tone from delivering clean socks to her husband. Cerise took a deep breath and decided that if there were a time for questions, it was now.


    "Just to clarify, there isn''t some sort of magic circle down there made of the blood of virgins brought to sacrifice on the whim of some nameless evil god is there? Because, I feel inclined to let you know that I would be very much unqualified to be an integral part of that." Cerise asked, calmly facing Asha and firmly planting her feet.


    Asha had to scratch the back of her head and look away to keep from laughing. Not at the question itself, it wasn''t entirely irrelevant, but at the earnest nature with which it had been delivered. "No, I''m afraid not. That would be much easier though." She replied, cracking a little smile.


    "Then I don''t see any reason to tender my resignation at this time." Cerise affirmed, never taking her eyes off of Ashas.


    Asha pulled the emergency stop back out and the pair felt the elevator resume it''s descent. "Good to hear. Now, you''re going to want to take this." She said, pulling a little plastic bag out of her pocket. There was a singular green and white pill resting in the corner.


    "I''ve been offered pills by superiors before ma''am. I have a strict policy of turning them down." Cerise stated, a nervous tone leaking into her voice. This had quickly taken an even more unpleasant turn than before.


    "Ah, well said, but I can assure you that this is meant to keep you conscious, not the other way around. I''ll leave it up to you for now, but I''m sure you''ll understand soon enough. Have a seat if you will. It''s going to be a bit of a long ride." Asha said, putting a code into the panel, causing two seats to unfold from the wall of the elevator. A bottle of water had already been placed in the cup holder of the seat opposite Ashas.


    As the two took their seats, Asha switched her implant back to the feed of Pho Saigon. She watched a familiar form make it''s way into the dining area of the restaurant. ''Ah, the gang''s all here.'' She thought, clasping her fingers together and staring at nothing in particular. It wouldn''t be long before the ball finally got rolling.

 Chapter 21: "Aw, cmon I cant be dead."

    ''Ugh. What''s that damn noise? Is that music?'' Harvel thought, rubbing his temples. Well, he tried to rub his temples. He thought he was rubbing his temples, yet there were no hands to rub them. There was nothing at all to be entirely fair.


    He attempted to look around. ''Huh, no neck. Can''t see... Am I dead? Aw c''mon I can''t be dead. This isn''t what death is like! Death is all blood and torment or pearly gates and getting to see my dog again, right?'' Harvel thought, attempting to pat at his person with hands that weren''t there.


    ''Who are you talking to?''


    ''What? I''m not talking.''


    ''Yes, you are.''


    ''My lips aren''t moving.''


    ''What lips?''


    ''Ah... Good point.''


    ''Harvel I''m not going to mince words here. You don''t have a lot of time. If you don''t get ahold of yourself soon you-''


    ''Are you god?''


    ''What? No, I''m not god Harvel I''m... Your consciousness. Yes, I''m your consciousness telling you that you''re going to die if you don''t do as I say.''


    ''You know, when you say it like that I can''t help but feel like you''re lying to me. What. Is. That. Damn. Music?''


    ''Oh, that''s just something I''m using to occupy your brain to keep it from gelatinizing. Don''t remember the name, it''s something from the old world. That''s not important, now, I''ve got some help coming your way but it can only do so much.''


    ''Why is it so loud?''


    ''What?''


    ''The music. Why is it so damn loud? I can''t hear myself think.''


    ''That''s the point. Look, the eukaryote is attempting to take over and eject itself from your body. If it does, any of the injuries you''ve sustained will open back up and if they do I don''t have to tell you what happens then.''


    ''Yeah, I bleed out on a bathroom floor. What are you even telling me to do? I mean I get that I have to, as you put it, "Get ahold of myself", but what is that even supposed to mean?''


    ''You need to find your self. Find the very root of your existence and pull it to the surface. It thinks you''re trying to kill yourself, what with the knife and all.''


    ''I''m a simple man, simple concepts please.''


    ''You know that anger that is constantly sitting in the back of your mind? The rage built into every fiber of your being? The little twinge that makes your fist move before your brain does? You need to find it and beat the eukaryote over the head with it.''


    ''Hmm, I think I get what you mean, but I''m not really that guy anymore.''


    ''Oh, that''s very nice Harvel, maybe you can tell that to the eukaryote and it will politely stop throwing a liquidation sale for your gray matter. Understand something Harvel, it needs to know you''re in control before it will allow you to be.''


    ''I thought Bukky said you were polite. She also said you might be some sort of ghost but I''m guessing that''s off the mark. What are you?''


    ''A friend. And, I''m polite to Dibbuk because Dibbuk is a polite person.''


    ''Now that sounds like bullshit to me. The friend thing, not the politeness thing.''


    ''Not entirely. I''m here to help Harvel.''


    ''That sounds like an extra helping of bullshit. Bullshit a la carte maybe.''


    ''Bullshit or no, you need my help here.''


    ''I''m... not going to deny that. What do you get out of this? Helping me I mean?''


    ''Harvel, how long do you want to live?''


    ''Is that a threat?''


    ''It''s a question Harvel. One you''re going to need an answer to sooner rather than later.''


    ''I''m not sure. I guess a normal lifespan. Die at eighty, grandkids, that whole spiel. You?''


    ''Oh, the same I suppose, but we can''t all have what we want. Grandkids, eh? Not looking good Harvel, you might want to get on that.''


    ''Hey I''m trying here.''


    ''Oh, are you?''


    ''Yeah I''m tr-'' Before Harvel could finish the thought, he felt what he could only describe as a fist, harder and with more force than he''d ever felt in his life, slam directly into what he thought was his nose.


    ''Then get angry Harvel. I know there''s a well of infinite rage inside of you overflowing and spilling out into your mind. Every day you walk this planet watching as lives around you spiral slowly and inevitably towards meaninglessness and you can do absolutely nothing about it. That apathy you feel slowly infecting your brain will eventually take you and everyone you love with it. And, nobody will care.''


    ''It will be slow and just painless enough for you to never notice it yourself. Has it never bothered you that after just a few years down in that sewer you''ve started to care less and less about yourself and the people around you? You used to have friends remember? You didn''t look like you were just pulled out of a homeless shelter a few years ago.''


    ''Look I just, I just don''t know if I can deal with this shit any more. My rage, and my anger are what put me here. Dibbuk had to stop me from ruining my own life just a few days ago. If I just let my anger at the universe throw my punches for me, by the end there wont be much of me left. I put us down in the hole we work in. I''d be letting her and everyone else down to dig myself any deeper by selfishly giving in.''


    ''You might not see it often but rage is there inside your sister as well. She grew up dodging the same paving stones you did. Whether she admits it or not at the very least she admires your ability to express it, even if she disapproves of your inability to suppress it.


    It''s not a bad thing to use the rage when you need it. Don''t think of it as giving in, but accepting that it is a part of you. And, I think I should inform you that Dibbuk is further down now than she or you have ever been.''


    Harvels brain ruminated on this for a moment before catching back up. ''Wait, what is that supposed to mean?''


    ''Ah, well, let me elaborate.''


    In a brief moment of intense clarity Harvel felt as if memories, numerous and vast in complexity, were rushing full force into his head. Thousands of voices, screaming, crying, whispering, and laughing surrounded his mind as if he were trapped in the waves of a great ocean. Languages he could never hope to understand pressed in upon him until he could no longer tread water. He felt himself sinking to the bottom like an anchor dropped overboard with no chain.


    Then he reached the bottom. Or, he felt as if he had reached the bottom. A calming darkness expanded outwards into the abyss filling Harvel with a sense of contentment. He could have stayed there forever in the stillness, suspended in peace between the present and the past.


    ''Ope! I went too far down, better pull you back up.''


    ''No! Wait! Please, let me stay here a little longer. This feeling... it''s...''


    ''Darkness Harvel. It''s peace in it''s purest form. Below the screams and laughter and chaos is peace within the darkness. I''ve felt it myself every day, but Harvel, this feeling of contentment? It''s a poison. Once you''ve felt it the chaos you live in every day will slowly destroy you.''


    ''How? I can''t imagine anything so wonderful.''


    ''That''s why Harvel. Not even your imagination can give you this feeling. No matter how hard you try reality will drag you up kicking and screaming from the deep.''


    ''Who are you? How do you know any of this?''


    ''In a way, I''m you, and eventually, with understanding, you will be me as well. You know my name already, you just aren''t aware of it yet. We can get to that later though. For now, let''s get back to the task at hand.''


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    As quickly as he had descended into the depths of peace, Harvel was lifted from the bottom and pulled up until he could see the light shining through the waves above. An image, like a dust cloud formed around him.


    It was Dibbuk, surrounded by darkness, slumped over onto her knees. He could hear the low, unsteady bouts of growling he knew from experience to be her sobs. He could barely make out the mud surrounding her.


    ''Where?''


    ''Deep within the sewers. Past what you know as level four.''


    ''That isn''t a sewer. I should know. How''d she get there?''


    ''You''re right, it isn''t, but the only way to get there is through the sewers. She did something somewhat stupid and caused a cave in.''


    ''Alright, I''m going down there. Also, why am I so calm? I feel like I should be hyperventilating a little or something.''


    ''Good man, and you''re so calm because I''m keeping you that way. The moment I stop you''re most likely going to explode a bit.''


    ''Well, from everything else you''ve said it might help me out. What about the others?''


    ''Others? Oh, your paramedic friends you mean. They should help you if you''re honest about it. They''re good people. I have to go. Other appointments to make. Remember, only you can keep the evil mushroom from liquifying your brain.''


    As the voice flickered in and out of earshot, Harvel felt as if he were being pulled the rest of the way out of the water. Though, instead of watching as the waves slowly disappeared below him, the moment he felt his head break the surface he was back in the bathroom. For a moment he watched as Parker tried desperately to saw through the column of eukaryote holding him in place. And then he was angry.


    Emotion, raw and unfettered washed through his brain like a poorly coordinated strangers coffee soaking his favorite shirt. It was as if his mind were being flash fried the way it burst from cool and collected to boiling rage in the span of a second. His body moved before his brain did.


    With all the force of a freight train Harvel pinned Parker to the side of the stall, barely stopping short of bursting through to the other side. If he could have spoken with his eyes he would have said something like, "Thank you for all the help, but you should probably run." but all that came out of his mouth was "Hrngggg!"


    Harvel felt a twinge in his stomach. He''d forgotten about the knife. It hadn''t gone in very far. Maybe about half an inch, but that was all it took to piss off the eukaryote. Little stringy growths, like fingers wriggling their way out of his stomach began to work their way up the blade and around Parkers knuckles.


    Harvel would have screamed if he could but the eukaryote was already attempting to make it''s way out of any available orifice. He tried to breathe but the growths had already filled his throat and lungs. He could feel them wrapping themselves around the base of his teeth. It was a dry feeling, like sand filling every square inch of his being.


    Harvels throat convulsed as if he were coughing but no air could escape. As panic set in he tried to lock eyes with Parker in a final plea for help but she was too distracted trying to free her hand from the growths still pinning it to the knife. Before he could make any further attempt to communicate he felt the eukaryote spread past his mouth and begin creeping across his face.


    The world began to go black as he struggled against the pull of the tendrils until he had no strength left to give. He wanted to scream, yell, groan, anything that might indicate that he was still alive, but still nothing came out. He had barely enough time to see the two orange lights that were Parkers eyes fade into nothing before the eukaryote had closed up over his own.


    ''Not this again.'' Harvel thought, frozen in the darkness. ''Mother! Fucker! It''s like whenever I think I know what I''m doing it gets fucked up even worse.'' Harvel finished, looking around. Realizing that he wasn''t in fact looking around yet again. He felt as if he were below the waves of memory and consciousness but something was off.


    If he wasn''t in the middle of a surge of uncontrollable anger Harvel would have noticed sooner that the sea of voices was suspiciously quiet. He looked around and listened for the unmistakable voice he''d heard before. There was something tinkling around in the darkness. It almost sounded like bells ringing from a great distance away.


    He could see a darker patch of sea to his right. The darkness seemed to concentrate on that one spot as if it were the epicenter of the sucking blackness. He tried to get closer but couldn''t seem to gain any ground. Every step more labored than the last.


    If he could just get close enough he might be able to rip it to pieces. That was all he could consider doing at the moment. He almost shook with anticipation at the thought of digging his fingers deep into whatever was doing all of this and pulling until there was nothing left. To end the life of whatever was attempting to end his.


    As he pounded away at the salt and the sediment beneath his non-existent feet he grew more and more exhausted. There was a form there beyond the reach of his grasping hands. He could swear he was gaining ground, but the moment he felt as if he were close enough to touch it, it would shift again.


    He didn''t know how long he spent repeating this process. Over and over again, he reached and grasped, the tips of his fingers growing sore from the force of slamming into his empty palms. ''You... Little... Fucker... I''m gonna... Fucking... Guh... Shit... ah, fuck it...'' He thought, losing his strength and residual rage with every mental breath.


    He kneeled down, fuming indignantly as he stared at the dark spot. ''Fuck this. Not enough rage in the world to make the damn thing move anyways. Fuckin voice lied to me.'' Harvel thought, laying down on his back in the silt. With the weight of the ocean above him pressing him further and further into the sand he gave up.


    ''What''s the point anyways? If I kill the damn thing I just get to live the rest of my days as a damn waste-walker. If I die on the other hand I get to lay here in the peace and quiet. For once in my life I get some peace and quiet, and I didn''t even have to punch anyone to get it.'' He thought, watching the particles of sediment he''d kicked up dancing around him.


    Again, Harvel felt the contentment that the voice had shown him. ''That''s what this place does doesn''t it? All the anger and rage and sadness, just gone. Like it walked away into the night. Don''t know what that other guy was bitching about. Seems pretty nice honestly, feeling this way all of the time.'' He thought, sinking deeper into the sand.


    ''Stuck. Stuck here. On this rock. Damn lizards, damn bugs, damn monkeys... All of em useless.''


    Harvel hoisted himself up onto his elbows. ''I thought this place was supposed to be peaceful.'' He thought, staring at the dark spot.


    ''Not even this one. New Spore? Feh, gonna have to find another. Lizard might do better next time.''


    ''Oi, pipe down over there! Some of us are trying to be content.'' Harvel thought, annoyance creeping up through his peace. The spot shifted. He could swear it was looking at him.


    ''Useless monkey. Lizard will definitely do better. Done waiting on them. Bug? Failed. Lizard? Failed. Monkey? Failed, twice. lizard might do better. Lizard then.''


    ''Oi! Shut it! Even in death I can''t have any peace or quiet.'' Harvel thought, kicking silt up in the direction of the thing.


    ''Bug dies, bug quiet. Lizard dies, lizard quiet. Monkey dies, monkey keeps screaming. Useless. Twice as useless.''


    ''And, what are you then? The fungus?'' Harvel asked, clenching down on the sand between his fingers. The thing scoffed.


    ''Fungus. Fungus, eukaryote, mold. First monkey calls me that. As if it knows. Monkey thinks that because it has a brain it knows everything. Feh, useless. Nutrients all the same, like lizard and bug.''


    ''Fine, not a fungus, I don''t really give a fuck either way. Just shut up and let me relax would you?'' Harvel thought, turning over and facing the other way.


    ''Relax. Relax? No, no relaxing here. Only the next step. Gotta use lizard. Already closer. Already angry like monkey.''


    As he lay there listening to the entity mutter about monkeys and uselessness something occurred to Harvel. If he was already dead, given that he was in fact the monkey the thing was talking about, was this going to be the rest of his eternity? Listening to that damn thing complain for the rest of existence?


    ''I guess I can put up with it. Not much I can do about it now. At least the rest of my family is alive and...'' Harvel remembered Dibbuk, sitting alone in the dark, deep beneath the streets. ''Well...'' In his haste to give up and accept his fate he''d forgotten about his sister.


    ''Yes, have to use the lizard. I like blue and green.''


    Realization struck Harvel. It was muttering about Dibbuk. It was going to do to Dibbuk exactly what it had done to him. He turned over again and eyed the entity.


    He didn''t know quite how to feel about it. There was anger there of course but there was something else. Something he couldn''t quite define. Like a spice you can''t identify added to a food you''ve always loved. The rage filling him had an intensity he''d never quite felt before. Harvel began to pull himself, legs still submerged in silt, towards the entity.


    ''You, whatever the fuck you are, are not putting one slimy little tentacle on my sister.'' Harvel thought, shifting inch by inch towards the darkness. At first it seemed to ignore him again, gibbering to itself on a loop about lizards and green, but as he drew closer he could feel it growing more aware.


    ''Oi Mr. Mutters, did you hear me?! Not a single! Fucking! Tentacle!'' Harvel continued, now scrabbling his way towards the thing. He expected to find himself just as unable to cover ground as before but something was changing. The thing wasn''t just aware anymore, it was nervous.


    ''Monkey doesn''t know. Monkey still thinks it''s alive. Wont stop screaming. New spore will change that.''


    ''And I''m going to keep screaming. I''m still alive, whether you want it or not! Your new spore ain''t changing shit!'' Harvel thought, making up the last few inches of ground before he was face to face with the entity. He reached out, expecting his hand to pass right through the thing, but was surprised to find his hand wrapped around the back of the being.


    Now that he was close enough to make out the shape of the thing he was immediately taken aback. He''d seen the types of things the sewer produced deep in it''s murky waters, but what he saw was nothing like anything he''d ever heard of. The form before him was of a small, grotesque mushroom-like creature.


    Screaming distorted faces covered every square centimeter of it''s being. He couldn''t actually tell which of the faces had been speaking to him. The mouths moved in imperfect unison.


    ''Monkey dead already. Lizard alive, lizard angry, lizard better.''


    ''Monkey angry you little twit! Monkey so fucking angry that monkey doesn''t care if you''re a fungus or a god or mold. Monkey is going to rip every one of those little faces off until each and every one of them stops screaming!'' Harvel raged, pulling the fungus as close as he could stand.


    ''Monkey is already dead. What is monkey going to do?''


    Harvel slammed the creature into the sediment. ''Then bring me back! Or else monkey is going to keep-'' Harvel slammed it into the sand again. ''Beating you-'' Again he smashed the form into the silt, ''Until you do.''


    He dug his fingers into the eye holes of one of the screaming faces and bent the thing backwards. ''I can do this forever. This is fun for me, little punching bag that you are.'' Harvel seethed, pulling on the entity in an attempt to uproot it from the sand.


    ''No monkey cannot stay here! Monkey must leave!''


    Harvel could swear he heard fear in the things words. ''Then. Put. Monkey. Back!'' He spat, teeth an inch away from one of the eyes. There was a moment where he could almost see the expressions change on the many faces. They leered up at him, prompting another slam into the sediment.


    ''Fine. Angry monkey is useful monkey. Save lizard for later. Monkey will be alive, but monkey will suffer. The spore brings only suffering.''


    ''Works for me you little shit.'' Harvel thought, as he felt himself begin to lift out of the sand. Before he was ripped free, he made sure to hold on to the little face his fingers were imbedded in for good measure. He figured he might as well leave the pitiful creature with a guarantee that if he came back this particular monkey would cause it the kind of pain it wouldn''t forget for the rest of its existence.

 Chapter 22: "Not really, no."

    Lemmy shut the door to the bathroom. "What''s my doctor doing here?" He murmured, glancing back at Aldon who was currently pulling at Parkers shoulders. Something about the question caught Aldon''s attention.


    "Your doctor? Lemmy, who is your doctor?" He asked, letting Parker go and pulling Lemmy aside.


    "Oh, uh, doctor Valez. Big Tar-Khali guy. Real nice. I bet he''d help us out if we asked." Lemmy responded, absentmindedly glancing at Parker and Harvel.


    "I bet he would." Aldon agreed, leaning out of the door and scanning for Yiddek. He spotted him walking around and asking the wait staff questions while showing them something on his implant. He managed to grab his attention by slamming the door a few times in rapid succession.


    Yiddek quickly shuffled back to the bathroom and squeezed in through the door. "Sorry, took a while to go around. Thanks for the text, I would have been lost otherwise." He apologized as he noticed the atmosphere.


    "You might still be lost. I know I am." Aldon said, pulling him around the stall and into full view of Harvel and Parker.


    "Oh my, you''d be correct. Where''s Parker?" Yiddek asked, carefully inspecting the round egg-like formation protruding from the side of the original growth.


    "Here... A little help maybe?" Parkers voice seeped out from a space still left between her fingers, poking through the side of the formation. The mound of Harvel forming around her had left her nearly invisible. Yiddek produced a travel size trauma kit and pulled out the small scalpel inside. As he positioned himself to begin cutting Aldon reacted.


    "I wouldn''t do that if I were-" Was all he got out before a tendril shot across the room and planted itself on the bathroom mirror. "You." He finished, watching Yiddek struggle to get his hand free.


    Parker, struggled against the fungus holding her in place against the stall to no avail. She was about to resign herself to waiting out the storm, but as she did she saw something. Harvel, whom at this point had barely moved in nearly five minutes, began to twitch. She watched as his mouth creaked open, a tendril working it''s way up his throat and past his teeth.


    It moved about, little fingers twitching back and forth as they seemed to sample the air. The twitching stopped for a moment as they became focused on Parker. Every breath she exhaled seemed to pause the twitching before it resumed again with added fervor.


    ''You''ve got to be fucking kidding me.'' She thought, saving the breath the words would have taken.


    She began struggling again, keeping her mouth shut tight in an attempt to slow the advance of the fungus. Parker wasn''t generally one to panic but she also had a severe dislike of any and all movies, books, and stories that could be remotely filed under horror. This experience as a whole had taken a distinctly ''For the love of god change the channel.'' type of turn.


    She could see Harvels eyes peeking out from behind the fungus, twitching and shifting back and forth as she struggled against the tendrils. The appendage that was hanging from his mouth was advancing, feeling the air between them for more CO2 to home in on. It groped around fruitlessly trying to latch onto something organic.


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    ''If you don''t wake the fuck up Harvel goddamn it! I''m gonna...'' She thought, pausing for a moment. What was she going to do? Shoot him? Punch him? No, she was going to die. At least she was pretty sure she was. It wasn''t like the thing coming out of his mouth was going to serve her tea and ask her how her day had been.


    ''I don''t know! But whatever it is I''m going to do it angrily!'' Parker screamed from inside of her head. She shifted her weight as best she could and the tendril spasmed before resuming its search through the air. Noticing the change she shifted again, and again it recoiled a bit. She glanced down.


    ''Oh, I forgot about you.'' Parker thought, pressing her weight against the knife again, achieving the same result as before. It could feel, whatever it was it could feel if Harvel was in pain as if it were it''s own. She pushed harder this time, causing the tendril to whip wildly around in front of her face. She pushed as hard as she could, squinting and gritting her teeth as the tendril connected with her forehead and cheek. She could feel warm blood beginning to run down her forehead and into her eyebrow as the knife plunged further.


    Suddenly, with a shiver, all movement stopped. The tendril froze in place but a hairs length from Parkers eye. Just past it she could see that Harvels eyes had stopped twitching and darting around, instead rolling up behind his eyelids. A roar, like a great dam giving way started to seep from Harvels throat. Louder and louder it grew until Parkers ears were so overwhelmed by the sound all she could hear were her own eardrums compressing.


    As if in unison the fungus began to loosen around her. The tendrils shaking violently as they seemingly pulled back into Harvels body. Harvels pupils dropped back down below his eyelids, shifting through different emotions as they refocused. First rage, then surprise, then panic, then back to rage again.


    Parker realized the scream had become muffled and saw that Harvel was biting down, violently gnashing his teeth on the tendril extending from his throat. After a moment of initial horror at the sight, Parker pulled herself free of the loosening fungus and shuffled as far from him as she could, slamming her head into a drain pipe under the sink. She watched, as the rest of the tendrils retreated violently back into Harvels body, leaving him leaning limply against the now dented side of the stall.


    Yiddek grabbed him and began looking him over as Aldon helped Parker back onto her feet. "Damn, did a bit of a number on you, huh? What happened?" Aldon asked, inspecting the open wound on Parkers forehead. For a moment Parker just stared blankly at Yiddek and Harvel before her brain caught back up to what he had said.


    "I don''t really know. This thing was coming out of his mouth and I just struggled. I think he woke up when I stabbed him. I should be fine though." Parker answered, avoiding as much eye contact with Aldon as she could. She tried to look away but her gaze kept drifting back to Harvels face.


    Something about the way it had crawled its way out of his mouth was stuck in her head. Every time he opened it to breathe she could swear it was going to slither out onto his chest again. Parker had seen plenty of nastiness in her time working with her uncle, but it was a human type of nastiness. It made sense in a way.


    This wasn''t human. Harvel wasn''t human. At least, he couldn''t be as far as she could tell. This thought was only reinforced as she watched Yiddek pull out the knife, not a single drop of blood left on it. Even his clothes were dry save for his own sweat.


    Humans bleed. Tar-Khal bleed. Even Davisians bleed. Things don''t, and Harvel wasn''t bleeding.


    "You sure you''re alright?" Aldon asked, pulling Parker away from her own thoughts. She could tell from the lines on his face that he could tell. Parker looked down at her hands, still resting on the sink. They were shaking in a way that they hadn''t since her first run with Aldon.


    "Not really, no." Parker answered. She could tell she was going to have nightmares about this for quite a long time. It was going to be another Blood Summer 4 situation for sure.

 Chapter 23: "Does it help if I smile?"

    "That''s okay, just get it all out. Yep, just, try not to get it on your shoes." Asha said, patting Cerise on the back as she vomited into a receptacle extending out from the elevator wall. They were about three minutes from their destination and from her experience in the matter the vomiting was only going to get worse from here on out. Asha handed Cerise a new pill and a bottle of water as she wiped her mouth.


    "My head... feels like it''s being crushed..." Cerise squeaked out between coughs. Noting her new personal change of policy she grabbed the pill from Asha and tossed it into her mouth.


    "Happens to everyone. Give the medicine a few minutes to take effect." Asha stated, checking her own shoes for any excess sick. It was actually reassuring that Cerise had turned down the pill at first. Anybody who just trusted a pill shoved into their face by their boss was just asking for a murder or two pinned on them, among other things. After a few minutes and a couple more dry heaves by Cerise, the elevator came to a smooth stop.


    "I forgot to ask, but you wouldn''t happen to be averse to horror movies would you?" Asha asked, bending down to make eye contact. Cerise contemplated this for a second between heaves.


    "No, not really... I... have a sister... that really likes them... she used to drag me to all of the midnight premiers." She choked out, taking swigs of water between breaths.


    "Good, follow me then." Asha said, the doors to the elevator opening up to a long darkened hallway. Cerise pulled herself together and followed Asha, leaving the elevator behind them.


    As they made their way down the hall Cerise noticed that on either side of them were windows of frosted glass. Each one filled with some sort of orange substance. She couldn''t tell what the substance was, but every window was filled top to bottom with the stuff.


    "Do you know the story of how this city was founded Miss Nadir? I suspect they still teach it in schools." Asha asked, noting Cerises shifting gaze.


    "Yes ma''am. The original founders Boris Mahone and Telio Valka began construction shortly after the first capital ship crashed in 2641. Boris went missing not long after during excavation of the capital ship, leaving Telio Valka to become the first mayor." Cerise answered, giving herself a short flashback to elementary school.


    "Good, well put. It happens to be untrue. See, out of the two Boris was always the one trying to advance science beyond human limitations while Telio was much more interested in attempting to create a functioning society here on Liberum." Asha explained, approaching a door on the far wall. She pulled a wire out from behind her implant and placed it in a slot so small Cerise had mistaken it to be a misaligned bit of tile.


    "While their motives were different their goal was the same. The continuation of the human race at all costs. The ships nav computer was buried under the rubble of the bridge, and with it the location of Earth. When they finally reached it though, it had been destroyed beyond repair and with it any chance of returning to our species'' home. Fortunately, they found something else." Asha continued, twitching a bit between each sentence.


    As the doors opened, a wave of intense heat rolled out and over Cerise. A dense greenish fog filled the chamber in front of them like a wall. As the fog began to leak out around their ankles Asha moved into the doorway, gesturing for Cerise to follow. After a moment of somber deliberation she did. Asha waved away the fog, pushing further into the chamber.


    "Mind your step. He gets it everywhere." She said, pointing towards Cerises feet.


    "Shut the door. You''re letting the heat out."


    Cerise froze in place, still mid step. As she let her foot come down it hit something somewhat soft. She looked down at the orange streak forming behind her heel as it reformed into a knobby looking orange root.


    "The room is still at a steady hundred and two degrees." Asha commented, placing her hand between Cerises shoulder blades and guiding her forward.


    "My... Roots are cold. Shut the damn door."


    Asha waved away more of the fog and brought them to a stop. Cerise couldn''t see it, but she could feel the heat rolling off of something in front of her. A smell like rotting wood and musty basements filled her nostrils.


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    "Cerise Nadir, I would like you to meet Boris Mahone. In the mycelium, as it were." Asha said, keeping her hand firmly planted between Cerises shoulders. Something stirred within the fog.


    "Hello young lady. It''s good to finally make your acquaintance."


    A face, or the remains of a face emerged from the fog. Stretched and twisted in more directions than Cerise could count, it moved in closer until it was merely a foot away from her own. The mass of orange roots behind it acted like one sentient organism, twitching and creaking endlessly with each movement.


    "You seem a bit on edge. Does it help if I smile?"


    The face twisted up the sides of the mouth into a lopsided sneer. The bottom lip began to rip with the added tension but was quickly stitched back in place by more roots. Cerise instinctually stepped backwards but was held in place by Ashas hand.


    "No it doesn''t, now stop trying to scare her." Asha answered, pulling down hard on one of the roots.


    "I wasn''t trying to scare her. I was scaring her. Let me have my fun once in a while would you?"


    ''This isn''t exactly what I was picturing as the big company secret.'' Cerise thought, grimacing as another wave of smell rolled over her. The face pulled away and rose high into the air, far from Ashas wrathful grasp.


    "I didn''t expect it either but here we are my dear. Asha, I''ve set Harvel in motion. Shouldn''t be long before he gets back under the streets. You''re set to pull Limerick back any time you like. Harkova still doesn''t know where they are, though don''t think that will last. They''re well informed."


    "Limerick still hasn''t initiated the contingency. I''d like to keep him there for a little longer just in case." Asha responded, her nose nearly imperceptibly crinkling. Cerise was for the most part just trying not to vomit again.


    ''Harkova? They''re private security. What could they have to do with this?'' Cerise thought, holding back another retch.


    "Oh, she didn''t fill you in on our situation? One moment."


    A tendril shot out from behind the fog and wrapped itself around Cerises head. Before the scream could leave her mouth her mind went completely blank. Images and information rushed through her mind in an unrelenting torrent. From the centipede attack, to Dibbuks fall, to Harvels predicament within the bathroom, all of it flowed freely throughout her mind.


    Then, the images continued. She saw more and more memories of past failures. Bodies piled like sacks of potatoes in search of the one that might be able to freely integrate with the eukaryote as Boris had. Thousands, no hundreds of thousands of attempts made over the centuries to find the one that could... that could... That could what?


    ''What was this all for? That many lives sacrificed end over end for what?'' She thought, wiping the sweat from her forehead. The images stopped, leaving her mind swimming in all of its new information. Questions bobbed up and down within the ocean of memories in Cerises brain. The tendril pulled away from Cerises face, leaving her panting, her vision shifting in and out of focus.


    "Peace. Peace in a chaotic world. That''s what they''ve all died for. I am going to finally bring peace to the human race. And Harvel is the sole key to that. I''ve chosen you Cerise. I know that when the time comes to act you will understand what needs to be done."


    "Why? Why would you choose me? I''m not a Meadows. You''ve only shown yourself to them so far." Cerise asked, looking up at the contorted face of Boris Mahone. She was panicking. She''d never implemented a mental policy for this.


    "Oh, it wouldn''t be any fun to tell you that just yet. But, Cerise, you are very special. You will play a very important role in our play here. Keep that in mind."


    "That''s quite enough for one day I think." Asha said, pulling Cerise away from Boris'' root system. She ushered Cerise out of the door and into the dim light of the white tiled hallway once again. As she stepped across the threshold Cerise looked back and watched Boris'' eyeless sockets disappeared into the fog once more. The door shut, various locks sliding into place as Asha and Cerise began walking towards the elevator.


    "Keep. That. In. Mind."


    "How, big is..." Cerise tried to find the proper words, "He?" She finished, glancing around at the windows lining their path. Boris hadn''t shown her the scope of the eukaryote.


    "Large enough that if he or it dies a large portion of the city will most likely collapse. At least that''s where our data points. It is older than we even know. Older even than Boris knows. At least, that''s what he says anyways. He''s never steered us wrong in the four hundred years we''ve worked along side him." Asha explained.


    "What part am I supposed to play in all of this?" Cerise asked, assuming Asha was as informed as Boris would be.


    "I don''t know. Nobody within my family has been privy to his final plan. The deal Tilio made hundreds of years ago left us in the dark. That''s just the way it''s been from the beginning. Whatever part you have to play is a mystery to me." Asha answered as they approached the elevator.


    Cerise contemplated this for a moment. She wasn''t that special was she? She''d only ever worked for corporation after corporation, doing the dirty deeds that needed to be done. She didn''t have a strong moral compass, or a special way of looking at things. The math didn''t add up no matter how she calculated it. Something about this, apart from the world changing implications, was making her wary.


    "Do you think he''s going to betray you?" Cerise asked, taking her seat next to her boss.


    "Oh yes. I''m counting on it." Asha answered, a little smile forming at the corners of her mouth. Cerise considered this as the elevator began it''s smooth ascent, but there was something else on her mind. Something else uncanny about the last ten minutes.


    ''He was reading my mind before he even touched me.'' She thought, hopefully to herself.

 Chapter 24: Team 447

    She''d thrown the rock. She''d looked the thing in whatever it wanted to call eyes and had chucked the stone with more force than she''d thought she could muster. Then, she''d ran.


    With little forethought or time for it Dibbuk had slammed her shoulder into the side of the wall at the back of the tunnel. It had shifted after the first one, and come loose after the second. When she was finished frantically pulling herself through the narrow opening and into the chamber beyond, she''d found herself in a stone passage.


    She hadn''t had time to ponder this in the moment, whatever the voice was it was most likely right behind her. So, she''d ran, and ran, and ran some more. By the time she was done sprinting through a few miles worth of the ancient tunnels she''d looked back and found that nothing was there. Either she''d lost it, or it had never really given chase to begin with. Dibbuk leaned against the stone that lined every inch of the wall.


    ''What is this all about? Why me? Why Harvel? And where the fuck am I?'' She thought, glancing around the dimly lit passageway.


    ''How far down am I? I''ve never seen stone work this old.'' Dibbuk wondered, running a claw along the side of a seam between two monolith sized bricks. The bricks in the other tunnel were all modern, held together by mortar and with the logos of long dead companies imprinted on them. These had no mortar whatsoever that she could tell.


    She could see shapes, like lettering etched into the stone along the edges. They were faint, worn away by ground water seeping through over an indeterminable number of years. She actually thought she could recognize a few if she squinted hard enough. Others though were wholly unfamiliar to her.


    ''What kind of sewer has inscribed bricks? I''ve never seen any of this in the books they give us.'' She thought, inspecting a few more of the massive bricks between breaths. Once Dibbuk had steadied herself she continued down the tunnel, occasionally stopping to eye the odd brick or two.


    She made it maybe a mile or so before she noticed a faint light emanating from around a bend. Cautious not to make too much noise she inched along the wall for the last few feet until she could steal a glance around the corner. She was more than slightly surprised to see a tunnel cart, laying on it''s side at the mouth of the passage.


    She drew closer, details becoming clearer with every step. It was old, older than any she''d seen in books. In a way it reminded her of Liers suit, iron bands with rivets covering every seam on the outer hull. The light was coming from its forward facing fog lamp, dimly flickering from moment to moment.


    It looked like it must have fallen, from where Dibbuk had no way to tell. As she walked around the rear of the cart, she noticed that the wreckage was teetering on the edge of a void. Darkness infinitely stretched out before her in every direction. She shined her emergency light around, failing to find a wall or a ceiling.


    Paying close attention to any shift in the cart, she climbed the front end and tried the hatch. At first it wouldn''t budge but with a few repeated attempts the rust broke away and she pried the door open far enough to slip in. She lowered herself down into the cabin, careful not to let go until her hind legs were touching the floor.


    If Dibbuk hadn''t seen plenty of dead bodies by this point in her career she wouldn''t have been quite prepared for the numerous ones that lined the walls. Eleven wastewalkers, all of them dressed in suits much like Liers, sat propped upright with blackened rags over what remained of their faces. The "cheese" she had found earlier had broken through the bottom of the cart and was creeping into the cabin, its interlocked tendrils enveloping the legs of the men.


    Then, at the end of the row she noticed one particularly large suit. The remains were Tar-Khal. They were small, male perhaps, claws clasped around a data pad. Dibbuk glanced back at the rest of the bodies. He was the only one without a rag.


    "Must have been the last one left." She murmured hopefully, slipping the data pad out of the claws of the remains. She looked at the name plate riveted to the collar of the suit. It read: "Captain Shmeelk Botu, Removal Team 447"


    ''Captain Botu... I''ve seen that name. He was probably the only Tar-Khal I''ve ever heard mention of in the walkers. Team 447? Had there ever been that many teams at once? Even with all of the pump stations, and substations combined, right now there couldn''t be more than a hundred.'' Dibbuk thought as she checked the collars of the other team members. She''d heard that the walkers had significantly downsized over time but had never imagined that it would be by this much.


    The data pad didn''t have any power, but the image of it''s final message seemed to be burned into the screen. Dibbuk wiped the dust from the glass, careful not to scratch the message underneath. If she strained her eyes, she could make out the last bit.


    It read: "I have laid them to rest. Though, I mean to join them soon just the same. There is no escape. The bugs have swarmed the cart, most of my boys are dead ---- seemingly run out of food. Gillis told us to eat their bodies. Not doing that.---- knows I-, knew I wouldn'' - - - - had a bit of a laugh about that. Can''t blame h--- --- passed with a smile."


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    Dibbuk glanced over at the bodies resting against the wall. She''d checked all the names, there hadn''t been one with the name Gillis among them, right? She checked over the name tags once more to be sure. None of the eleven names was anything close to Gillis, ruling out the possibility of a typo.


    ''There has to be something right?'' Dibbuk thought, letting the rag of the eleventh man slip back over his nameplate. As she shook her head in disappointment something caught her eye. Another rag, aged yet still lightly colored, laying among the tendrils.


    She followed the tendrils back to the spot where they had broken through the hull. Deep within the tangle the edge of a helmet glinted in the beam of her emergency light. Dibbuk took a moment to reassure herself that whatever was attached was dead before she reached into the mass of tendrils.


    She gave the rim of the helmet a light tug, prompting it to come loose in her claws. The helmet was nearly rusted through, the leather strap having rotted away long ago. Putting it to the side, she looked at the spot in the tendrils it had covered. She wished she hadn''t.


    Gillis was, somehow, still meaty. Dibbuk could only see his head and shoulders at this point but if they were any indication, he was almost perfectly preserved. Dibbuk closed her eyes as she reached down and grabbed the collar of the uniform. Her hopes that the old suit would hold were affirmed as she felt Gillis'' body raising a few inches at a time.


    As Dibbuk reached further down to get a better grip on Gillis'' body, she noticed something she hadn''t earlier. This Gillis, was a woman. Cautious not to rip the rest of the suit she managed to pull the body about three fourths of the way out of the tangle. She would have pulled further but Gillis'' legs were somewhat fused to the tendrils.


    With the top half of the body now slumped over the edge of the mass of tendrils, Dibbuk could take a closer look at the name plate. She wiped away a greenish residue with her thumb and read it.


    "Sr. Engineer Blaithin Gillis, Removal Team 447"


    "I''m not even going to attempt to pronounce that. So, you''re Harvels great great aunt or something?" Dibbuk wondered aloud, eyeing the corpse. Though she wasn''t the best judge when it came to human faces, this Gillis didn''t look much like Harvel. For starters a large portion of her head was missing.


    Dibbuk noticed a necklace with some sort of metal pendant, wrapped around the corpses chin. Hooking a claw around it she leaned in to have a better look. There were letters stamped into the lightly rusted metal.


    "I descend now, from soil inert, to shape and move the peoples dirt.


    Through rivers yellow, and mountains brown


    I walk and wade, my helmet a crown.


    If below the streets I stay, those above shall know my name.


    If they happen to forget, then may they drown in their own shit."


    ''A bit crude, but then again most walkers are. She is like Harvel in that regard I guess.'' Dibbuk thought, staring into the corpses face. There was something there, in the murky eyes that stared back at her. Almost like they were...


    "Mooooviiing!" Dibbuk cried, losing her balance and falling backwards onto her tail end. The corpse blinked slowly. It''s head turned a bit to face Dibbuk, though the eyes seemed to be looking past her.


    ''Botu? No... not Botu... Botu is...''


    "Are you- Are you alive still? Can you hear me?" Dibbuk asked, recognizing the sound of projected thoughts.


    ''Dead... Alive? I... was... I might be. Who are you?''


    "Family, I suppose. In a way." She answered solemnly.


    ''We all are, in a way. That''s what Shme-... what Botu used to say.''


    "That''s not quite what I meant. Look, my brother, he''s a Gillis, like you. He''s-" Dibbuk glanced down at the mass of tendrils, "A lot like you, from what I''ve heard." She finished.


    ''Spoken... to the monkey... have you? He lies... you know. He lies. He told me... he could bring them back... If I tried hard enough... I could bring them back... Lies I wanted to believe. Just another experiment to him.''


    "An experiment?" Dibbuk asked, following Blaithins eyes, now resting sadly on Botus body.


    ''To know how long to wait... for a new spore to form.''


    "A new spore? What does that have to do with my brother?" Dibbuk asked, hearing the strength leaving Blaithins mind.


    ''Might be the next one... he''s cut me off... since I failed... If he is... then your brother, and you... are in danger... He''ll do anything... to take him over.''


    "You mean this monkey person right? I didn''t know monkeys could talk." Dibbuk asked, trying to keep the womans attention.


    ''Heh... yeah... not a monkey... sorry... that''s what... the old spore called him... before he cut me off...''


    "What? Old spore? Wait, then who''s monkey?" Dibbuk responded, drawing closer. She could hear the mental voice growing weaker.


    ''We... knew him as Mahone... in our day... The great founder... or one of them... I can''t... tired... so tired...''


    Dibbuk watched as Blaithins body began slumping slowly back into the tangle of roots. Dibbuk took a chance at one last question. "Why does he want the new spore? Why does Mahone want my brother?" She asked, leaning down into the hole.


    ''The old spore... is dying... wants to die... Mahone wants to evolve... Thinks the spore is the key... Thinks It''ll make him immortal... He might just be right... Almost worked for me... Almost...''


    With that final lament Dibbuk felt the mental voice fade entirely. The corpse stopped blinking and became dormant once again among the tangle of tendrils. Dibbuk pulled her head back from the hole and sat up on her hind legs. She didn''t really know what to think. She sighed.


    ''This is all a bit too much... What am I even supposed to do here? I figured the voice had lied to me somehow but like this? I was expecting ghosts and demons and such. Not some sort of disembodied billionaire. All I want is to go home.'' Dibbuk thought, slumping down next to the remains of captain Botu.


    She stared at the hole. Was Harvel going to end up like that too? Trapped in some sort of moldy cocoon for all eternity? It seemed like hell on Liberum in her eyes.


    As she contemplated all of the new information she''d learned a "Plink!" came from behind her back. Then another, and another, then hundreds more little knocks began to hit the side of the cart. Something Botu had written down came screaming back into the forefront of Dibbuks mind. "The bugs have swarmed the cart."


    "Shit..."

 Chapter 25: "Oh... Thats gross..."

    Harvels vision dimmed and brightened with each jolt. He could see everything. He didn''t want to. They were in a storm drain. He could tell by the excess of moisture and lack of fecal matter.


    "And who... are you?" He asked the man clinging to his coat. The words came out lazily, as if producing them were a chore in an of itself.


    "Uh, Lemmy, Lemmy Meadows-Griegs. Harvel I presume?" The young man replied, holding his free hand out for a shake. Harvel limply shook his hand.


    Harvel tried to concentrate. His brain was still a cosmic soup of senses. He reached up and scratched the side of his neck. Something tore.


    "Oh, that''s gross..." Harvel commented, pulling his hand away. A green and orange substance oozed between his fingers. Ignoring his better judgement, and the fact that he probably didn''t need to, he held the substance up to his nose. To his relief it only smelled faintly of mildew.


    As he slumped there limp over the shoulder of his brother, Harvel wondered why this wasn''t all a bit more disturbing. Maybe the constant torrent of senses had overloaded his brain into neutrality. Maybe he''d given up after having woken up for the second time in a place he was unfamiliar with. He couldn''t be sure.


    All he could be sure of was that they were somewhere under North Umbrian Lane, near 332nd street. He didn''t know how he knew this. It was like he could smell where they were. Or taste it.


    In fact he wasn''t sure or unsure of anything. It was like there were a thousand minds all fighting to tell him what he thought. The loudest one seemed to be his own, but there were definitely others.


    Voices screaming thoughts as if they were standing a few meters away. Others strong yet restrained, as if they were whispering next to his ear. Some came from below him though they were nearly drowned out by the pressure of those above.


    "Are you alright? Are you going to be sick again?" Lemmy asked, ready to back away at any moment. Harvel contemplated this. He... probably wasn''t going to yak again. Before he could answer a voice intruded on his mind.


    ''I hope he''s not going to do that thing again. With the goo and the orange stuff.'' He heard, noticing a shiver run down Lemmy''s arm. Harvel tried to give him a reassuring smile.


    "I don''t think you have to worry. Though I can''t guarantee there won''t be any goo." Harvel said, sticking and unsticking the fingers on his free hand. Harvel felt his weight shift.


    "Harvel, you''re awake?" Yiddek asked holding his brother in front of him by the armpits, his shoes hovering above the flowing water and chunks of ice.


    "So it would seem... Yiddek, it occurs to me that there is something very off about my physiology. I can see by the way you''re looking at me that you''ve been thinking the same thing." Harvel said as naturally as he could. Yiddek cocked his head to the side a bit.


    "Harvel, your eyes are closed." Yiddek responded, pulling his brother in closer to inspect his neck.


    "Are they? I hadn''t noticed." Harvel said, flicking his eyelids open. He didn''t actually notice any difference.


    "Harvel your speech is off. You''re not cursing, or angry. I thought you would be... madder at me. Aldon told me you were absolutely livid with me earlier." Yiddek said, setting Harvel down on a dry section of concrete.


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    Harvel had been absolutely ready to rip his brothers head off earlier, that he couldn''t deny, but he''d had time to think about it. Well, to be honest he''d had very little time to think about it, he''d just had more thoughts about it than usually would have filled that time. Yiddek was right, but it wasn''t just his speech.


    His brain was working at a pace it never had before. Where every one thought should have been there were another fifteen crammed in. If he looked at how he, Harvel, normally would have reacted, his brother was entirely in the right to not tell him what was wrong. He would have thrown a fit, and his brother probably didn''t have as many answers as he would have assumed.


    "It would have made things worse if you''d told me. I would have lost it when you told me you didn''t know much else." Harvel said assuredly. Yiddek looked surprised.


    "Well, yes, but I didn''t think you''d see it quite the same way. I didn''t have nearly enough information to tell you what was going on, I still don''t to be honest." Yiddek explained, a hint of relief showing through.


    He was relieved, right? His brother didn''t despise him, in fact he agreed with him. This was good, objectively. But there was something distinctly un-Harvel like about his brother at the moment. Something that immediately turned his relief into a sense of uneasy dread.


    Yiddek began inspecting the laceration on the side of Harvels neck. It wasn''t a cut. It was like the skin had ripped. The skin around it was thin, more akin to latex than a humans outer dermal layer. He gently pulled his claw across a patch of skin about two inches away from the initial tear.


    The skin held on at first, but as he pulled his finger away the skin came with it. It separated from the muscle in web-like strands as he tried to free his hand from it. Panicking Yiddek pulled some gauze out of his emergency kit and held it against Harvels neck.


    "Harvel we need to get you to the Dome. I need to find a way to treat this! I thought it was healing you at first but I don''t think that''s quite how this works." Yiddek began, "I think it''s-"


    "Replacing my flesh. Yeah..." Harvel interjected, staring down at his hand, his two broken fingers seeming even longer than they had at the restaurant. It wasn''t stopping with just replacing damaged cells anymore.


    Yiddek stood back and watched his brother in horror. This wasn''t the same man he''d grown up with. There wasn''t anger, or fear, or surprise in his brothers expression, just blank interest. Cold, calculating curiosity that he''d never seen in the years when they had been close.


    "Lads, we need to keep moving. Those Harkova fools will get wise soon enough. Lemmy? How close are we to your garage?" Aldon chimed in, nudging Yiddek in the ribs.


    "Well, the shops at 341st and Bickel, so-" Lemmy began.


    "Two hundred meters North then East another forty two meters. There should be a manhole that takes us out right behind the shop." Harvel finished, his eyes closed in concentration. It was like he could feel the city unfurling in every direction like a great tapestry. Each street and building lighting up like nerve endings.


    "Yeah, he''s... he''s right. That should get us to the alley behind it." Lemmy agreed, checking his gps a second time to make sure. He stared at Harvel. What had Asha gotten him knee deep in this time?


    "Fine, let''s keep moving then. I want this over as soon as possible." Parker commented, pushing past them and down the storm drain. Harvel watched as she trudged farther into the distance with mild curiosity.


    "It must''ve been something I did." Harvel said to himself, turning to look at Aldon. He hadn''t heard her say a word since he''d woken up, but he had felt her staring when she thought he wasn''t looking. The only problem being that whether he wanted to or not he was always looking.


    "Yeah, it was. And once we get to that garage, you''re paying me for that damned AV Mr. Griegs. After that we''re done here." Aldon stated, shooting disdainful glances at both Harvel and Lemmy.


    "What did you do?" Harvel asked, sliding a glance Lemmy''s way. There was definitely something personal there.


    "Well, uh, I had a button. When the Harkova mercenaries showed up I sort of panicked and well, I pressed it." Lemmy explained, timidly wringing his hands.


    "And he set my fucking AV on fire." Aldon interjected as he walked further down the tunnel after his niece. Harvel looked back at Lemmy.


    "And I set his AV on fire." Lemmy confirmed dejectedly.

 Chapter 26: Raindrops, falling into the sea

    Dibbuk laid there, listening as the mandibles of the Davisian ants worked their way through the ancient rusted metal and near petrified wood. She was getting lucky here. The build quality of these old carts was much higher than that of the current age.


    She''d once watched a video of a swarm overtaking a cart, rending steel and cable as if it were plastic. She''d seen them do the same thing to flesh but even faster. Of course, that was human flesh. She doubted it would be so quick in her case.


    ''Well, what are my options?'' She thought, sitting up. She glanced around the cabin. The lights were still on, dim but on. The sensor eyes might still work. She''d be able to get a look at her imminent death.


    As she moved to stand up something shifted beneath her and poked her right below the tail. She jolted upwards, glancing around in embarrassed exasperation. To her relief none of the corpses snickered as her bluish green skin grew a slightly darker shade of navy.


    She composed herself and investigated the spot where she had been sitting. A handle, made of steel and wrapped in rotting leather, was jutting out from under where Captain Botus leg had been. The extremity had fallen apart and caused the handle to shift upwards.


    ''What? A sword? Was he that kind of old school?'' Dibbuk thought, giving the handle a tug. To her geekish glee what she pulled out was not in fact a sword. It was something much more useful.


    "No fucking waaaay." She said under her breath, the morbidity of her situation forgotten in her amazement. It was a shearing bolter. Originally designed to blow holes in steel plates, the weapon she now held in her hand was one of the oldest recorded weapons used by wastewalkers.


    Before proper insecticides had been formulated for Davisian ants they had used these incredibly heavy weapons to take out swathes of them at a time. Nearly every walker had one. She couldn''t understand how now that she was holding one. It was massive.


    They were actually incredibly economic as well. As the projectiles used were sheared off bits of steel, razor thin, then shot by a rail system at 2400 feet per second. The bits of steel came from a solid state reservoir that could create nearly four hundred rounds per reload.


    Dibbuk thanked her lucky stars that she was such a nerd. Even her brother had gotten tired of studying the old waste walker weapons with her. She''d always wanted to hold one of these. She could almost do so with one hand.


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    ''Actually, why am I holding one of these? Bolters were from long before even Captain Botus time. The fact that this one hasn''t rusted into dust is a miracle in and of itself. It''s dripping wet with that odd green stuff too.'' She thought, looking back into the pool of greenish liquid under Botus corpse.


    She took a closer look. There was something else breaking the surface of the pool. She hesitated at first, but then considered that the substance was already coating her claws as it was. Plunging her claw under the surface she grabbed hold of something solid.


    She tugged on the object, immediately regretting it. Dibbuk had to stop herself from crying out in pain as she pulled her claw back out of the liquid. A gash in her palm began to bleed. As she held the gash closed she saw that she had managed to pull the object into sight. It was a spare bolter clip, half used and still sharp on one end.


    Splotches of red began to form in the oily green substance as her palm began to gush. Years in the pipes had taught her not to panic in these situations, but as she pulled the tiny first aid kit out of her pocket, she stopped. The wound, fresh as it was was began to bubble and hiss. She began to panic.


    As Dibbuk shakily pulled the zipper on the first aid she noticed that the pain was gone. The muscle was stitching itself back together, little strands of red and orange barely visible before her skin closed up around it. The only sign that there had ever been a cut was a thin line leading from her thumb to the middle of her palm.


    ''This...this is what she was talking about. So far from reality. Down here where time seems to move at a snails pace.'' Dibbuk thought, wrestling with her growing anxiety. There was something there, a void opening up and enveloping her. It felt like the depths of the sea.


    There she might find only the company of horseshoe crabs to bring her comfort. Horseshoe crabs and... and something else. A faint ringing, like a bell in the fog. The sounds of thousands of ants gnawing their way into the cart had faded away, leaving nothing but the sound of her own breathing.


    Dibbuk glanced around, looking for some sort of form in the darkness. Then, lights began to flicker all around her like raindrops falling into the sea. As each light dimmed and brightened they rang like bells in the void, each one a different tone, each time growing in volume.


    Within moments they became a deafening cacophony of dissonant bells assaulting Dibbuks mind. She dropped to her knees, clutching at her head. She felt as if her own thoughts were being scrambled in the unending chorus of sound.


    Then the lights went silent. Dibbuk searched frantically for a moment hoping that the lights had disappeared. They hadn''t. They were all there, surrounding her, but they were no longer flickering. They sat in place glowing faintly in unison.


    They had gone silent, but there were other bells. One came from above, and two in the distance in front of her. Two were faint, nearly silent, but one in the distance in front grew again in volume. As the volume grew the lights around her hummed and vibrated. Then a voice, cold and crass reverberated in Dibbuks head. A new voice she''d never heard before.


    ''Lizard will do just fine. The new spore will never gestate. Monkey will suffer. I will not end.''

 Chapter 27: "Ive only gone and forgotten."

    The humming stopped. Dibbuk glanced around. There was nothing. Not a sound left when she woke up. Was she awake?


    She looked for some sort of evidence that she was still there. There was none. Not a trace. The darkness of the void was all that she could comprehend in the space around her.


    ''What was that voice? Monkey. That''s what Blaithin had called the voice in the darkness. But that hadn''t been the voice I''d heard before. This last one had been crass, angry, evil even. Filled with hatred and venom.'' Dibbuk thought, leaning down to feel the sand beneath her feet.


    Now there was nothing. No cart. No ants. No Botu, no Blaithin. No Dibbuk. No Harvel. No Yiddek. No mum or dad. No Boris-Valka.


    The only thing she knew was there was the ringing of the bells. And at the moment there were more than there had been before. Millions to be not quite exact. Most, again, were faint, but a few more than before were loud. Excruciatingly loud.


    * * * * * * * * * *


    Captain Lier unhooked himself from the line. This was a new type of screwed up. The orange substance running through the surrounding earth was not entirely foreign to him. He''d seen it before, poking through in dark dilapidated tunnels in his youth. It had been a very long time since he''d been this deep in the system.


    Wicksomme and Mary lowered themselves down behind him as he moved deeper into the cavern. Lier picked up a couple of buunchal wrappers that were lying on the ground before the mouth of the cave. They were still slightly sticky with sugary preservatives.


    "Well, seems she didn''t have time to think about environmentalism." lier commented, pointing his flashlight down the length of the tunnel.


    "Can''t say I blame her. I personally wouldn''t want to spend any more time down here than I had to. That being said, can we get the fuck on with this?" Mary said, helping Wicksomme unhook himself from the cable.


    "Yeah. Alright. No need to sit around with our thumbs up our asses eh?" Lier agreed, placing one of the wrappers in his pocket.


    "No sir, I don''t think there is." Wicksomme commented, staring incredulously back up the cable. Scores of yards above them clinking sounds could be heard originating from the rest of their party.


    "Boy, if you don''t hurry it the fuck up I''m gonna kick you down this god forsaken hole meself!" Don complained, pausing to take a sip of thisky from his flask. It was currently his only solace from the grim venture they might be embarking on. He could tell from the weight that it was beginning to run dry.


    Merely a yard below his feet Selby propped himself against the wall, his knees shaking so violently you could have written a samba with them. If it hadn''t been the heights that were giving him pause, it would have been the orange rubbery substance his boots were embedded in that would have stopped him. He could feel it sucking at his legs with every short drop.


    "Sorry. Sorry. I just... I need a minute." Selby explained, attempting to control his breathing. He was remembering exactly the thing the voice in the dark had showed him.


    It hadn''t been dizzying heights. It hadn''t been death, or danger. It hadn''t been that nightmare he normally had about being in a cafe near his parents house with the man in the wheelchair and the three geese. It was a moment.


    A moment he was getting closer and closer to having to accept had happened. A moment that he needed, deep down to have never happened. Years ago his mind, his life in fact, had changed.


    Selby had lived his entire life with absolute certainty. Every moment of every day had been without question. And then that moment had changed him. And Harvel was at the end of it all. He was at the end of a deep, dark, enclosed part of Selbys existence that he never wanted to admit was there.


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    For some reason he believed that at the end of this cord was that part waiting for him. Waiting to be uncovered and laid bare to the rest of the world. To Harvel, somehow. To...To her.


    * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Harvel sniffed at reality. Something was wrong, something below them. Deep underneath his feet he felt a synapse light up as if it were on fire. It had been there before but now it blazed with an intensity closer to that of his own node within the brain that was the city. It was a familiar node as well, like he''d known it for his entire life.


    "Harvel? You went and spaced out again? We''ve got to get up the ladder." Yiddek asked, snapping his claws in front of Harvels vacant face. Harvel looked at him. For a moment there wasn''t much else there but the same detached look he''d had for the last minute or so.


    "Oh... Oh no. I''ve only gone and forgotten. We need to go down Yiddek." Harvel said, realization flickering across his face. Yiddek stared at him and then the ladder quizzically.


    "Uh no Harvel, we have to go up. There''s a ladder, see?" Yiddek explained, guiding Harvels hands to the rungs. He considered that his brother might be losing significant cognitive function with each passing second.


    "Huh? Ladder? Oh yeah that too, but after that we need to go down." Harvel accepted, pulling himself up a few feet away from the flow of the storm drain.


    "Just get up there and we can talk about it, okay bud." Yiddek said, watching to make sure Harvel didn''t lose his grip. On either the ladder or reality.


    Harvel pulled himself up into an alleyway deep in the neighborhood of Mistrook. Mistrook didn''t actually stand for anything. It was just one of those names that you ended up with when large development companies built large subdivisions for high end sale. It could have just as easily been named Highland Crest, or Eagle Heights and it would have been the same neighborhood.


    Lemmy was already shakily attempting to place his key in the manual lock, as Parker and Aldon loomed impatiently behind him. Yiddek squeezed through the manhole and out into the open air. The five of them stood stock still, the only sound being the AVs passing over them and the nervous clinking and scraping of Lemmy''s keys.


    "Once we get in there I''m going to get you some help Harvel, okay?" Yiddek said, placing his hands on Harvels shoulders. There was a tone there that twanged a string in Harvels brain. He tried to block out the flow of excess information swimming around his brain for a moment and be present.


    "I''m sorry, do you think I''m simple or something? You keep talking to me like I''m five years old." Harvel asked, letting a piece of him bob up to the surface. Yiddek looked dumbstruck. There it was, the old Harvel, back for  a moment.


    "Uh, no I just-" He began


    "No, he thinks you''re dying. You''ve been going in and out for the last thirty minutes like you have dementia or something." Parker answered, rolling her eyes hard enough to counteract Liberums rotation.


    "Oh, well I probably am, but that''s not important. Yiddek we have to get Dibbuk. She''s really far down." Harvel explained, pushing his thumbs into his eye sockets. It was the only way he could get his mind to stay present. It was like his nerves were being pulled in every direction all at once.


    "What? Not important? Harvel I don''t understand, and Dibbuk should be down there, it''s her job." Yiddek explained, pulling Harvels hands away from his face. Harvel pulled them back in, pushing harder.


    "Yeah, what do you mean? Our AV got blown up to get you here alive, my favorite gun too. So, you had better be joking when you say your life isn''t important." Parker growled, grabbing one of Harvels wrists. Her irritation getting the better of her, she attempted to yank his hand away from his face.


    It wouldn''t budge. Parker tried again, her muscles straining like steel cables. Harvels forearm didn''t move, it might as well have been made of granite. In her disbelief, Parker kept trying to pull away his hand.


    Harvel let his arm pull away this time. Perhaps a bit too quickly as Parker lost her balance mid tug. As if it were reflex he clasped his hand around hers and held her steady. Harvel made sure his eyes were actually open as they locked with hers. Even without the pain of pushing his fingers into his eyes, he could be present in this moment.


    "Sorry, I didn''t mean it like that. How can I make you see? How can I put it to make it cle-" Harvel started, then everything went dark for a moment. Like a frozen slice of time shaved off and left there for him to admire.


    Alone, there, for but a moment, yet if felt like an eternity. He no longer knew how long he''d been there. Then he was back, and Parker was back, and Yiddek. The whole gang was back together again.


    "The uh, door is open now." Lemmy said, pointing to the now open doorway that Aldon was disappearing into. Parker and Harvel locked eyes for a moment again in complete beautiful understanding. Then she turned her head and vomited.

 Chapter 28: A Sea of Souls

    Parkers mind whirled in a cosmic soup of information. All at once she''d been shown a lifetimes worth of knowledge. More than that, a thousand lifetimes of memories and dreams, many of them being Harvels. She saw not only his memories but his thoughts.


    Every intent he''d ever had or feeling he''d experienced. Love, anger, sadness, guilt, all of it sweeping through her brain as if she''d known it her whole life. She didn''t know what she had been expecting, but what she found was far more well meaning than she would have guessed. And, like anyone who has ever expected a sip and gotten a chug, she choked. Parkers brain began to cough profusely.


    The stream of information skipped uncontrollably, flashes of thoughts and memories becoming more disjointed with each moment. She saw cities fall to ruin and mountains move along as millennia passed. A sea of souls unfathomably deep and a creature in waiting below it''s glassy surface. And, somewhere near it''s menacing shore, a large and infinitely kind soul staring towards the stars above.


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    Parker held on to that moment. Pushed down and fought the next bout of coughs as best she could. She felt like she''d seen a few souls like this before. Seen them in the eyes of children who had taken care of their sick parents, and the nurses who had kept her mother alive in her final days. In Aldons eyes, at times. Souls too kind to give up and let the fire burn without being fought.


    Her minds figurative lungs gave out. The next mental cough sent a pulse through every last nerve inside of her body, and some she could swear were not. Her eyes opened now, they locked with Harvels. A thousand thoughts came to their conclusion.


    ''We need to go down. Before it takes that kind soul.'' Parker thought, just as time finally regained the ground it had lost to her mind. Her brain had gotten over its hiccups and was now riding the figurative teacups. With it''s newfound confidence it had persuaded her stomach to come with it.

 Chapter 29: "I need to go down."

    Lemmy helped as best he could to guide the others to a spare chair in the office of his garage. It wasn''t much of an office, just a partitioned off area less cluttered with parts and more so with papers. He didn''t normally have visitors, save for Ashas assistant Cerise when she brought him fresh clothes. He picked up the numerous folders filled with his new designs that were sitting on a rolling metal stool and put them on his desk.


    He''d been struck with a bit of genius lately, or at least a bit more than normal. While he was sure he had made a breakthrough, he hadn''t tested it yet. He hadn''t had time, what with all of Ashas assignments. He hadn''t had the space because he''d probably need to be at least five square miles from the closest living thing. For now it would have to wait until he''d gotten all of this straightened out.


    "The fuck did you do this time?! You had better not have hurt her kid or that orange shit won''t be able to save you from me!" Aldon bellowed, letting Parker slide off of his shoulder before immediately turning on Harvel. He grabbed him by the collar, bringing them nearly eye to eye.


    "Aldon. Aldon! Calm down. I think she''s going to be fine. She''s just dazed." Yiddek explained, putting a finger over the old man''s shoulder. Harvel held his breath. Aldons face was only an inch or so from his own. At this distance he''d probably be able to taste the inside of the pilot''s lungs.


    "She''d fuckin better be! I''ll cut him into pieces ''n toss ''em into space if she''s not. That''s my little girl you sewer rat." Aldon growled, struggling against Yiddeks iron-like grasp.


    "Aldon, you don''t need to do that. I''m alright, I think." Parker said, rubbing her temples. Her head ached as if it had been beaten in with a hammer. She had a slightly distant look in her eyes as she looked past her uncle at Harvel.


    "You sure? I liked him, but I''ll gut him if you say the word." Aldon stated, not bothering to turn around. He hadn''t broken eye contact with Harvel for the last minute and a half. Harvel felt as if the air itself was getting heavy.


    "I don''t need you to gut him. I need you to stop shouting so my head will stop pounding." Parker answered, pulling herself up into a sitting position against Lemmys desk. Harvel hadn''t hurt her, or hadn''t tried to at least. Part of what she''d seen was the last hour of Harvels life from his eyes. They hadn''t been very enjoyable, or intentional for that matter.


    Harvel tried not to take Aldons threats too personally. He''d known him for a little longer than five hours. He''d also called Parker his little girl. That was something his dad would have said about Dibbuk. Something any real father would have.


    "I''m sorry, Aldon. I didn''t mean to hurt her. I-I didn''t mean for any of this to happen." Harvel said, a wave of guilt washing over him. He felt his chest tighten. Aldons expression softened a bit as he let Harvel go.


    "Look, kid." He said, reaching up to put a hand on the side of Harvels head. He pulled his hand away and held up the oozing green substance in front of Harvels face. A strip of skin hung limply off of Aldons pinky.


    "This. Whatever the fuck this is, is not normal. I don''t know if it''s killing you, and no offense, but I don''t care either way. I''ve seen a lot of people die of infections. I don''t want my niece to be one of ''em." He finished, letting the weight of his hand rest on Harvels chest.


    There was a moment of somber silence as Harvel nodded in understanding. Yiddek let go of Aldons shoulder and turned to tend to Parker. She was past him before he had even noticed she wasn''t sitting down.


    "How are you still conscious? Are you starting to get used to it? All of the information, I mean.I felt it for a bit. Felt like a million years all wrapped up in a single moment." Parker asked, grabbing Harvels head and turning it from side to side. Harvel kept his eyes lined up with hers.


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    "I don''t know, but I wouldn''t touch my face if I were-" He started to say just as Parker pulled her hand away, trailing a few strands of his flesh. Harvel clicked his teeth a few times, listening to the much louder sound they now made. Parker smiled guiltily.


    "Well, we kind of match now at least. I''ll warn you, you''ll have to tilt your head when you eat soup from now on. I had to before your brother patched me up. You''ve been taking good care of your molars." Parker said, with a rather detached tone of voice. She was gingerly inspecting the side of his face.


    "I think some of me may have rubbed off on you. Try to think human thoughts." Harvel commented, pulling his face away from her curious hands. He tried to do it when none of her fingers were hooked around the new hole in his cheek.


    "I think you may be right. I can feel so much more of the air around me. Can you taste your shoes?" She asked, swishing her fingers around in the space between them. Harvel focused on what was happening in front of him instead of the near infinite number of things that weren''t.


    "Yes, if I want to, but I don''t and believe me you don''t either. Hopefully this wears off. Try to breathe." Harvel said, gently placing his hands around her palms and leading her back over to the stool. Parker chuckled.


    "Heh, you taste like iron." Parker commented as she flopped down onto the seat.


    "Yeah, well, you taste like lilacs... and rust." Harvel said back, embarrassment causing a bit of green ooze to flow from the hole in his cheek. He couldn''t tell if it was the smell of her, or the various oils and solvents in the shop, but he was starting to feel a bit light headed. And short of breath.


    "You two bonding over being gross is nice and all, but we''re cutting off the contract here. Plus, someone owes us a bit of money for a burned out AV." Aldon commented, looking both annoyed and impatient. He gave Lemmy a bit of side eye as he opened his phone and began putting together different sums.


    "I''m sorry to hear that. I hope the original amount will be enough." Yiddek said, a tinge of hopeful optimism in his voice. The old pilot sucked on his teeth as he chewed on the thought.


    "Well... Maybe an extra few creds for cab fare wouldn''t be-" He started, before a swift kick from Parker cut him off. After he''d taken a moment to gingerly grasp the side of his leg he straightened back up and continued.


    "I s''pose we''ll be fine now that I think about it. Cabs are cheap this time of night." He finished, hiding a guilty smile from his niece. Parker relaxed a bit before preparing to say what she was about to.


    "They are, and it''ll be cheaper alone. Now that the contract is closed I have the rest of the night off, right?" She asked, pulling out her phone and checking the time.


    "Uh, yeah I guess. What are you getting at?" Aldon asked, seeming both tired and confused. He shook his head and went back to calculating. Parker looked at Harvel.


    "We need to go down, right? To get to your sister." She asked him, knowing the answer already. Harvels face lit up. He''d almost resigned himself to doing it alone if he had to. He wheezed a bit from the excitement.


    "Parker, she''s supposed to be down there. It''s their job." Yiddek explained, pinching the bridge of his snout in frustration.


    "Doctor Valez, I know you think he''s losing brain function, and I think you might be right." Parker tried to avoid Harvels look of incredulity. "But, just listen for a moment. I''ve seen what he means, in his thoughts, or memories. She''s in danger. Not just work. Whatever this thing is that is infecting him is trying to get to her as well." She pleaded, trying to sound as sincere as she could about the circumstances.


    "You sure? You saw this, all of it? When you two touched?" Yiddek asked, grave understanding beginning to take hold. Parker nodded slowly. Yiddek sat cross legged on the concrete, leaving him only a few feet taller than the rest of the group.


    "Dicky. We need to go down. I need to go down. Something is calling me there. Maybe Bukky is just bait. Maybe this thing just wants me to get to it so it can turn on me, but it doesn''t matter. It''s willing to kill her to make it happen. We gotta go and we gotta get down there fast." Harvel said, sitting down back to back with his brother. His vision was beginning to get blurry, all 360 degrees of it.

 Chapter 30: "Shell live."

    "You think Bukky would be okay with that? Getting her out even if it means leaving you down there?" Yiddek asked. He knew she wouldn''t be, but that wasn''t quite how his brother worked.


    "She''ll live." Harvel answered, tilting his head up towards the ceiling. He wasn''t looking at it. He was too busy trying to feel out where his sister was in the depths of the ground. It was almost like phantom limb syndrome.


    "You won��t." Yiddek commented, a quiver starting to form in his voice. He wasn''t ready to lose either of his siblings, but he knew which one he was going to, no matter how things turned out.


    "Yiddek. It''s been getting harder to breathe over the last few minutes. I think my lungs are getting smaller. I don''t know how long I''ve got. So, either I die up here and she dies down there, or I die down there, and she gets to live. I know which I''m going to choose." Harvel wheezed, letting the majority of his weight rest on Yiddeks back. He was beginning to feel extremely tired. He might have overestimated.


    "Aldon, I''m going after their sister with them. I''ll see you whenever I get home." Parker said, smiling to herself. This felt right.


    "You what?!" Aldon shouted, looking up from the bill he was preparing for Lemmy. Yiddek leaned towards Parker.


    "You know you don''t have t-"


    "Yes. Yes I do. Now that I''ve gotten my head back in order, I know I have to." She interrupted. Aldon moved to interject but she waved him off.


    "I know I saw her down there, but that''s just one moment. Who I saw in his memories is a good person, a good sister. We haven''t done much lately to help good people, Aldon." She said, shooting her uncle a scathing look. It had all been trust funders and bankers for the last nine months.


    They used to take the wealthy for all they had so they could pay the bills, while they helped the people who couldn''t pay theirs on the cheap. They''d tracked down gang dens and drug houses, pulling out any unfortunate soul left behind by the world. They''d helped countless people in the last few years, and built a reputation to fund it.


    And then there had been the incident. They were there to pull this kid out of the hands of traffickers and get him home. Some drugged up cooker with an improvised vaporization weapon popped out of the basement door. Weapons like that weren''t just banned from Boris-Valka, they were banned from all warfare in this or any system. They didn''t leave anything behind to repair. And it had barely clipped her face.


    The bills had piled up after the surgeries. Doctor Valez had taken most of the brunt as far as the procedures were concerned, but medications and materials didn''t come cheap. Within a few months it was back to chasing money like Aldon used to when he''d started out.


    She hated it. Aldon hated it. After a while she''d begun to hate herself for dragging him down alongside her. She could barely stand to look in the mirror. When she did, she was only reminded of the mistake that had stopped them from helping the people that really needed it.


    The only way she''d dealt with it was by focusing on the violence. It made her feel like she was the same person she''d been before it had all gone down the tubes. When the bullets were pounding into the hull, and the buildings were flying past her, all of the rest of it fell away. No questions, no answers, just lights in the night for her to take aim at.


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    Then tonight came along. A chance to help out someone who had done much more than help her. Aldon had charged Yiddek the normal rate, even with her protests. She hadn''t quite forgiven him for that yet. Good thing she could set her own price when she was on her own time.


    "So, seeing as I''m off the clock I''m thinking of doing some volunteer work. Like I used to." She decided, her headache slipping away. She knew he meant well, but his protective side had gotten a little out of hand after the incident. Yiddek looked over at her.


    "We certainly appreciate it." He said, extending his claw out for a shake. She ignored it and attempted to fit her arms around Yiddeks massive reptilian shoulders.


    "You saved my life. I can''t just call it a day when your family is in danger. That''s why we took this job in the first place right?" She said, pulling away. Aldon grumbled to himself a bit before sliding his phone back into his pocket.


    "Fine then! Have it your way. Guess if I''m gonna let you walk into that ant infested hole, I''m not gonna let you do it alone. But, there''s one problem we haven''t really considered. How we''re going to get down there. At least, without having to walk for days on end. Any suggestions mister mildew? You''re the expert." Aldon asked, crossing his arms in sarcastic superiority. Harvel didn''t make a sound.


    "Harvel?" Parker asked, leaning around Yiddek to see what could be keeping him so uncharacteristically reticent. Yiddek shifted around to try and look over his shoulder. Harvels body slumped onto the floor, the all too familiar green ooze now flowing freely from his eye sockets.


    "Harvel? Harvel! What are you sleeping for? You need to-" Yiddek said, pulling his brother upright. His voice slowly drifted away as realization dawned. He held his ear to Harvels chest for a few moments, then knowingly cradled his brother against his chest.


    Harvels eyes, tinted green from the ooze, stared lifelessly out into the garage. He didn''t breathe, he didn''t blink, nor twitch. Nothing more remained of Harvel Gillis but his body.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    ''Oh, No. Not again. I''m not doing the thing with the dying again. With the ball of fungus and the loud music. And if I have to listen to loud music, can it be stuff I like? Is that too much to ask?'' Harvel thought, watching as his brother held his corpse. Things felt different this time. There wasn''t any music, or a voice, or anything really.


    Looking at his body he could tell that he wasn''t almost dead, or nearly dead, or playing dead. His brain had shut off. The neurons had gone dark. He''d finally run out of oxygen.


    He''d felt the space in his lungs getting smaller and smaller. He hadn''t thought much about it. He''d known it might kill him. Some less than human part of him had decided that he didn''t care. There were more important things to do. People to save that weren''t already doomed.


    Now that he was standing here watching his brother come to understand that he was gone, all he wanted to do was not be. Not be dead. Not be watching. Not be so callous as to have not said goodbye.


    But then, why was he still here? Was he a soul? A spirit? Maybe, but he still sensed the world the same as he had.


    The torrent of smells, tastes and eldritch knowledge hadn''t gone away. It hadn''t lessened in intensity. In fact it was just the opposite. The torrent was expanding, but now he could process all of it as if it were truly meant to be there.


    He felt an odd sense of shifting gravity as he watched Yiddek carry his body over to a workbench. He could practically feel the wood against the back of his head as he laid him flat across it. If he could still feel, maybe it was just his human brain that had died. He could swear he was still in there. If he could just...

 Chapter 31: "I call it a trip boat."

    The group of four sat in somber, uncomfortable silence. Parker, Aldon, and Lemmy all looked at Yiddek who was sitting on the concrete facing away from his brothers body. He rubbed his eyes and clasped his claws together.


    ��I don''t�� I don''t know what I''m going to tell our parents. He was just here a few minutes ago. I didn��t realize it had�� I didn��t realize.�� Yiddek murmured, continuing to rub his eyes furiously.


    He��d lost patients before. But no matter how attached he had been it was never like this. Never so surreal. Never so empty. He didn��t know what to do now.


    ��We still have to go after your sister. At least, I still think we should. It��s what he would have wanted .�� Parker said, pulling herself together. She hadn��t known Harvel long, but the peek into his mind had been very telling. He''d kept going, even when he knew it would get him killed. He��d just been lucky up until this point.


    ��I don��t even know where to look for her. He knew where she was! All I know is that she��s in the sewers. Hell even if we knew where she was he was the only one who knew how to get there.�� Yiddek explained, shrugging his shoulders in resignation. Harvel had truly been the only one of them who��d known what was going on. Lemmy coughed.


    ��About that last bit. I may have a way to get there quickly, but I have to warn you it might not work correctly. We��ll need coordinates, but if we can get them then I might be able to help you get your sister back.�� Lemmy explained, quickly grabbing a few tools from his work bench and hurrying out into the garage.


    Aldon and Parker followed him, leaving Yiddek behind with Harvels body. Lemmy shuffled away from them, hands overflowing with tools, over to a large covered bulk in the corner. He practically dropped the tools onto a cart and grabbed a corner of the tarp.


    ��Do you mind? It gets caught on the other side if I do it all at once by myself. Takes forever to get it right again.�� He said, gesturing in the pairs general direction. Parker grabbed the opposite corner and began pulling the tarp towards the front. When the tarp was free Lemmy excitedly presented his creation.


    ��It��s a, uh, boat.�� Aldon pointed out, feigning interest. Parker nodded in unimpressed agreement.


    It was, in fact, a boat. Not a particularly large one either. More of a dinghy with a hat. Aldon had to admit though, he''d never seen one with a hull that gave off mist and looked like it was nearly see-through.


    ��Well, yes it is, but it��s much more than that. It��s a very special boat. I call it a trip boat.�� Lemmy explained, exasperation showing on his face. Aldon and Parker both crossed their arms in unified skepticism.


    ��And why would that be? The big lazer looking thing on the front?�� Parker asked, leaning on one of the struts holding the vessel aloft. She could tell it had never been in the water, though it didn''t look as if it was meant to be.


    ��Yes! Yes! The big lazer thing! So, that is actually one of many different things that are very special about this boat. The first is the hull! It''s made of a two micron thin hyperconductive alloy that is constantly cooled to negative ninety degrees Celsius!�� Lemmy yelled, pulling himself onto the boat and pointing at various parts of the craft.


    ��And that will?�� Aldon asked, giving the hull a swift tap with his boot. Lemmy deflated a bit.


    ��That, Aldon will allow us to use the big lazer thing to project a magnetic field that will lock the hyperconductive alloy in space. Then we use the other big laser thing to create a small singularity and pull apart the strands of reality. Then we slide on through between and come out where we please, like a cat through an iron fence.�� He explained, leaning over the side of the trip boat. There was a moment of contemplation regarding the implications of such a device.


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    ��Well, fuck me then. You��re gonna put me out of a job.�� Aldon said, pulling up a shop stool and staring at the future of locomotion as he knew it. Lemmy shook his head.


    ��I doubt it. You have no idea how expensive the materials are. With the money I spent on enough hyperconductive alloy to transport the whole boat I could have bought a large freighter.�� Lemmy said, embarrassed at the thought of how much he''d spent getting this little independent project going. Aldon relaxed a bit at the prospect of a still intact career.


    "Have you ever actually done all of that shit before? You know, all at once. Successfully." Parker asked, holding her hand a few centimeters away from the hull. After a few seconds the cold had already reached the bones in her fingers. Lemmy lost a bit of his zeal at the words.


    "Uh, no. I haven''t. But I''m pretty sure I figured out the rest of it about three minutes ago." He said, a grin spreading across his face.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Yiddek stared at his tablet, the data folder for his brother open. It was laid out the same as all of his other patient files. There was a box labeled ��Current status:�� with his cursor blinking inside. He placed his finger on the D and watched it fill up with multiples of the letter. He couldn''t bring himself to spell out the rest of the word.


    There was a polished steel sheet backing the wall in front of him. He looked at the reflection of Harvels body, almost hoping he would see it move. He looked back at his tablet. As he deleted all but one of the Ds, and his finger hovered over the e, he heard an odd cracking sound.


    Yiddek looked around, expecting to see Lemmy doing something mechanically inclined. He was alone. He looked at the reflection again. Harvel hadn''t moved. He glanced back down at his tablet and before he could start again Yiddek heard the sound resume.


    It was a deeper, soggy type of cracking this time. Like mud covered sticks being broken up for a desperate fire. Yiddek looked up at the reflection again. Fingers, slender and knobbly, were wriggling out of his brother''s silhouette.


    Yiddek turned, eyes wide in unfathomable horror as the cracking and snapping grew louder and louder. The hand, dripping in blood and green ooze, forced its way out of Harvels chest. His ribs splayed outwards towards the ceiling, the hand purposefully grabbing them and prying them out of the way.


    The sickening cracking noise continued, as Harvels skull seemed to cave in and retract partially into his neck. Yiddek instinctively grabbed a thick steel break-over bar and waited with it at the ready. His stomach churning with disgust and grief, he set his sights on the creature now making its way out of Harvels corpse.


    A head, only identifiable as such due to the sunken, pore-like eyes and nose, popped out from between the ribs. It looked like a mushroom, an uneven, knobbly cap cresting high above its eyes. It placed its hands on the sides of the table and laboriously pulled its legs out of Harvels. Yiddek tried to steady himself in spite of the squelching sounds it made.


    The creature inspected itself for a moment, moving its limbs about in front of it. It seemed amused at first, flicking the blood off of its spindly fingers. It looked at its hands in confusion, rubbing the digits together. Noticing it was distracted, his moment had come. Yiddek wasn��t going to let whatever the fuck it was get away with killing his brother, or anyone else.


    The bar sailed into the creature''s head, burying itself into the cap with a barely audible ��poomf!�� sound. The problem was that it stayed there. Try as he might, Yiddek could barely wiggle the bar, let alone pull it free. The fungus didn��t seem phased. Its cap had immediately reformed over the bar once it was embedded.


    Yiddek prepared himself for the inevitable assimilation headed his way, but nothing happened. The mushroom still seemed to be preoccupied with flicking the blood off of its hands. After a moment it seemed to notice something was off.


    Yiddek held his breath as the creature raised its hands and began feeling around its head. It found the bar, and immediately began to show signs of panic. It turned to look behind it, effortlessly yanking the bar and Yiddek along with it. Now face to face with a rather annoyed looking mushroom, Yiddek nearly froze.


    ��Sorry.�� Yiddek squeaked, gulping. The eyes bored into his, wrath emanating from their near infinite depths. It hastily plunged its free hand into the soup of blood and ooze it was sitting in and leaned forwards. It found a clean spot of bench, and began to write furiously.


    ��What the hell did you-�� the creature paused to slosh its fingers around in Harvels guts again, ��do that for?!�� It wrote, punctuating the action by pointing at the words aggressively. The handwriting looked oddly familiar.


    ��Um, I uh�� What?��

 Chapter 32: "Dont call me Lindon."

    The team trudged along, keeping a close eye on every crack and crevice in the damp stone lining the tunnel. The muck this far down was closer to wet sand than the usual rivers and deltas that flowed through the upper pipes. Lier had taken to pulling ahead to follow Dibbuks tracks, still slightly visible.


    Don lagged behind, dragging his feet through the muck, as if to leave tracks. Wicksomme, Selby, and Mary were arguing about how old the carved stones around them truly were. The current theory seemed to be that Telio Valka must have commissioned them directly after the crash of the first capital ship. Don stayed decidedly removed from the debate.


    As they bickered Don trailed further and further behind until slipping into a branching corridor, he switched off his flashlight. He pulled a glove off and grabbed his flask. Running his thumb over the etched inscription on the side, he thought about how old this flask truly was. Old Earth steel, stronger than any found on Liberum.


    He opened the flask, and poured the contents out into the muck. A small green splotch grew near his feet, a drop or two smattering the old mans boots. As he screwed the cap back on his flask he knew he was already here.


    ''I''m surprised you''d show your face down here again.''


    "Are you now? I''m surprised you didn''t say hello the last time.You forget what I looked like?" Don answered, purposefully ignoring the wall of shadow only a few meters away.


    ''I was a bit busy.''


    "Causing a massacre?" Don asked, sniffing the air. He always hated how it smelled like decay even when it was only Boris'' mind hanging around.


    ''Preventing one, actually. You were preoccupied huddling in that hole with the boy.''


    "Heh, not a boy Boring, not anymore. You losing track of time too? I lost track for a bit, to be fair. Tuesday was certainly a reason to take a look at a calendar now and again wasn''t it?" Don taunted, pulling out a cigarette. He lit the end, the flash of the flame illuminating only half of the pipe.


    ''Do you really think I caused all of that? Tuesday was just the day it woke up. I''ve been keeping it weak ever since. You should be thanking me, Lindon.''


    "You are the one who woke it up though, yeah? I don''t know of anyone else who would be poking and prodding the damn thing at all hours of the night." Don snorted, turning to face the wall of darkness. It wasn''t like something was stopping the light, it was like there was no light at all.


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    ''Lindon, you''re just as perceptive as you''ve always been. Too bad you''re not as powerful as you were. You might have been able to do something about all of this.''


    "Well, I''ll admit you''re right there. I can''t do much about your little plan with Harvel, but knowing him he''ll do plenty to kill you himself. Who knows, he might even use the evil little bastard to do it. And Boring, don''t call me Lindon." Don said, sauntering away towards the mouth of the tunnel.


    ''Fine, Telio. Have it your way.''


    As Telio Lindon Valka, the Telio Lindon Valka, felt the shadow disappear from behind him he paused. He hopped to the side just as a stone block dislodged itself from the ceiling, and slammed into the muck where he had been standing. Telio looked up at the orange mycelia that had pushed it out of position and scoffed.


    "Act like I haven''t seen that one before. Never learns. Next it''ll be rolling boulders." Telio commented, chuckling to himself and putting his cigarette out on the wet stone. He cracked his neck and stretched a bit before settling back into his normal Don "the drunkard" Lindon gait.


    He collected a few ounces of the viscous green liquid from the side of the fallen block, and dribbled it into his flask. He''d need it if he was going to keep pushing on towards the center of the city. At a certain point he might have to dose someone else to stop their headaches.


    Pounding footsteps grew closer to the mouth of the tunnel as Telio screwed the cap back on and stashed the flask in a pocket. Wicksomme rounded the corner, breathing heavily. Don looked up at him unassumingly.


    "Hey kid! Can you believe it? Big ol'' stone just fell outta nowhere. Reckon it nearly killed me!" Don said, a crooked smile crossing his face. Wicksomme stared at him exasperatedly.


    "Don, why were you even back here? We didn''t know where you were." He asked, irritation saturating his tone. Don flashed the flask guiltily.


    "Sorry kid, Lier gets all huffy when I pull it out around him. Thought I''d find a quiet place to get in a few swigs real quick." Don lied, spreading the pathetic old alcoholic impression on a bit thick. It had always been a thorn in his side that Lier never quite bought it. Other than that it had worked flawlessly for the last five hundred years.


    "Well, just tell me next time then. We''d all thought you''d been dragged off or something." Wicksomme scolded, turning around and heading back down the passage they had come from. Don smiled to himself. He was a good kid. It was a shame he might be dead by morning.


    As the two rejoined the group Mary and Selby berated him for skipping out and nearly getting himself killed. Lier on the other hand watched every move he made. Don knew he''d always suspected something was amiss. He also knew about Liers little ability, along with the fact that it didn''t work on him.


    After another hour or so Lier stopped the team. They had been underground now for nearly fourteen hours. They needed food, they needed sleep, and they needed time to think. Selby and Lier scouted ahead and found a dry patch of muck down one of the adjacent tunnels. One end of the tunnel had become overgrown with the orange mycelia and was perfect for keeping watch.


    They settled down for a few hours to rest, each one pulling a few meal bars out of their packs. Lier decided to take the first few hours of watch while the others used their packs as pillows. While the others slept Don kept an eye on Lier. He hadn''t slept for half a millennia, why start now?

 Chapter 33: "I remember this."

    "This would be much easier if you had a mouth. Are you sure you''re my brother?" Yiddek asked, leaning against the counter as he took notes. The nightmare in front of him stared blankly into the distance. A faint squeaking cut through the sound of voices coming from the garage.


    "I don''t know. I''m still thinking." Yiddek read aloud, shifting the polished steel sheet Harvel was holding to get rid of the glare.


    "That''s... a lot less reassuring than I had hoped." Yiddek commented, shaking his head while he typed another note. Harvel truly wasn''t sure if he was Yiddeks brother anymore. He knew he was Harvel, but what being Harvel meant became the new question.


    At the moment what Harvel was doing was closer to computing than thinking. To break things down a little easier he was concocting a series of "If _ ,then _." statements. At the moment most of them had to do with his humanity.


    ''If I still feel pain, then I am still partly human.'' He thought, setting the steel sheet down on the table. He grabbed a metal pipe and handed it to Yiddek. Harvel pointed at his arm with a chopping motion. Yiddek eyed the pipe.


    "What? You want another whooping?" Yiddek asked, pulling the pipe out of Harvels claw-like hand. Besides the fact that the entire idea was a little odd, Yiddek wasn''t even sure he could do it. Before there had been a sort of primal rage behind it. Something he couldn''t quite describe anymore, as if he''d forgotten.


    "Need to remember if I can feel pain." Harvel scribbled, putting the marker down when he was done. Yiddeks heart sank. Over the past few minutes he''d truly felt relieved that his brother wasn''t dead. In the moment he had forgotten that his brother might not be alive in the same sense as he was.


    This wasn''t untrue. Harvel, having now settled into his new body, was feeling much less Harvel-like. He wasn''t angry, or anxious. He wasn''t afraid of what was happening to him. There was just a sense of what was and wasn''t, no in between.


    The world no longer shifted violently between his human perception and the one the fungus gave him. They were one now. One view, augmented by trillions of nerves that ran through the very ground itself. As Yiddek stared forlornly at the pipe in his hand, Harvel looked up towards the stars.


    The understanding that dawned upon him should have been the greatest revelation of their time, yet he felt as if he''d known it his whole life. He should have seen nothing. The corrugated metal roof of the garage perhaps, but beyond that there should have been only darkness to him. Instead, bells rang from the heavens.


    Life without measure, endlessly stretching out above him. Bells, minute in volume, but countless in number rang out with joyous zeal. They were so vivid that Harvel felt the urge to reach out and touch them. It was the second most beautiful thing he had ever seen. For some reason he couldn''t remember the first.


    Harvel looked at his brother again. The pipe slammed into the side of his face. Ah, he could feel pain, just not very much of it. Harvel peeled his head away from the table, leaving an impression in a sticky patch of half dry blood. Yiddek shivered, and handed his brother a rag from a nearby workbench.


    "Well, I felt that. I want to try something else." Harvel wrote, waiting for his brother to read before erasing it and starting again. Yiddek leaned in to read mid scribble.


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    "Sure, but don''t make me throw up like Parker. And Harvel, the rag was for your face, not the steel." Yiddek answered, holding his arm out in front of him. Harvel nodded and wiped some of the congealed blood from his face and head.


    For the first time in both this life and the one he''d lived before, Harvel wrapped a single set of spindly fingers around Yiddeks forearm. He pointed at Yiddeks open hand. Yiddek anxiously obliged, closing his hand around the gnarled fungal appendage.


    All Harvel had to do was think. Yiddek and he were suddenly standing next to the docks, a half a kilometer from the house they''d grown up in. It was a little inlet that branched off of the Rossford Canal. They were a stone''s throw away from the boat their father used to ride out to his trash barge every morning.


    "It''s early. Like, dad heading into work early. I remember this." Yiddek said, mystified at the detail. He could smell the gasoline from the engines, and feel the chill of the morning fog in the air. He''d been here many times.


    "Yeah, it''s a very vivid memory. It''s yours, and apparently mine as well. I don''t remember it like this though." Harvel said, taking in the beauty of the memory. He knew that it was a shared memory. He''d picked it because the version he''d seen had been like a melting claymation of this. Most of the memories he tried to remember right now were like that. Some weren''t.


    "You were there with me every other Saturday. Dad would have to do a mandatory shift but he could go in later than normal. We woke up as early as we could so we could walk down to the docks with him before he left. Things were like that for a few years. Don''t know how he did it." Yiddek reminisced, shifting his weight so he could feel the wooden planks beneath his feet.


    "With Parker I wanted someone to see things through my eyes. I wanted to see if it could go the other way." Harvel said, a little impressed with himself. Yiddek looked down at him. Harvels form was human at the moment. Human, but off in a relatively noticeable way.


    "Harvel you don''t have a face." Yiddek pointed out, slightly more concerned than he was frightened. He was all beard and eyebrows. Harvel nodded in acceptance.


    "I don''t think I can remember what I looked like anymore. I know I had a beard." Harvel explained, rubbing his non-existent chin. The two sat in a sullen silence for a few moments, the sound of water lapping against the wooden beams beating an uneven rhythm.


    "What can you remember? Is it getting worse?" Yiddek asked, preparing a mental pen and paper. He might as well get the details while Harvel could actually speak.


    "From what I can tell, the memories aren''t really gone. More like, washed away with the current. This thing that I am now. It''s like a massive computer and every square inch of it can store data. I don''t think they''re gone, just put away somewhere. There''s not a lot left." Harvel explained. He squeezed Yiddeks forearm for a moment.


    The docks around them faded, replaced by complete, oppressive darkness. The smell nearly made Yiddek wretch. He held his free hand over his nostrils and tried not to think about what was running between his toes.


    "So, this is the sewers? Dibbuk told me there were usually lights. Why''s it so dark?" Yiddek said, looking down each end of the tunnel. Harvel didn''t answer. A sloshing sound started to echo around the curved metal walls.


    Yiddek looked down. Harvel was dressed in his wastewalker suit, a shotgun slung across his chest. Before he could ask why they were here, Harvel pointed down the end of the pipe his eyes had been glued to.


    A figure came into view. At first it was just an outline, but as it drew nearer Yiddek could tell it was Harvel, dressed in the same clothes as the one gripping his forearm. There was something about the same size as himself draped over his shoulder.


    "Who are you carrying?" Yiddek asked, noticing a growing warmth enveloping his back. He turned again, an orange glow was coming into view at the other end of the pipe.


    "Sulby Klagbender." Harvel answered. Yiddek waited for him to continue with some sort of explanation, but his brother remained eerily reticent. A few moments passed before the two figures broke the edge of the light. They were maybe five feet away when Yiddek noticed something was off.


    He could very clearly make out the details of Harvels face now. They weren''t the ones he recognized. Yiddek had once heard that desperation truly changed people. If that were true, his brother must have changed more than he''d ever known down here.

 Chapter 34: "Ill probably be back."

    This memory of Harvel slid Selby off of his shoulder and onto the concave wall of the pipe. The man groaned as his legs slid into the ankle deep muck. The Harvel from the past slammed his hand across Selby''s mouth and frantically looked down each end of the pipe. He relaxed a bit and pulled his hand away slowly.


    ��You do that again and I��ll break your damn teeth.�� Harvel whispered, the memory quickly echoing the words. YIddek looked at his brother again. The blank expression had shifted into bitter sadness. The memory of Harvel began rooting through the pockets of the jacket Selby was wearing.


    The T joint they were sitting in began to glow orange from all ends, the light bouncing around the moist walls. Past Harvel finished pulling a few extra shotgun shells from what was actually his jacket and pulled out a pistol. He grabbed Selby''s hand and wrapped his fingers around the handle.


    ��For if they get past me, yeah? Don��t get my jacket dirty. It��s got a patch on it from my mum just like my sisters. I��m gonna go get help. Or die, or something else horrible, but I��ll probably be back.�� Past Harvel whispered, loading a couple of the shells into his shotgun. Selby nodded a bit, still dazed from a seven foot drop onto his head.


    ��Why��s he wearing your jacket?�� Yiddek asked, leaning in to read the name plate. The suit Harvel was wearing said ��Klagbender�� instead of Gillis.


    ��Selby and I were bunk mates at the time and got them mixed up that morning. It��s a shame we��re the same size or we might have noticed sooner. Turned out alright though.�� Harvel answered, flinching a bit as his memory loaded the last shell.


    The frequency of the screams and gunshots grew rapidly, creating a constant wave of sound around them. Yiddek couldn��t tell when they ended or began. It was like they had formed a wall between himself and the air. The pressure felt unbearable.


    Past Harvel turned and walked past them towards the end of the pipe. Yiddek watched as he stood at the mouth of the pipe, ripples emanating from around his ankles. A sound like a train derailing shook the ground as a flaming mass of steel and insects flew by only feet from him. He stood there for another moment, still save for the ripples. He shook his head back and forth a few times.


    ��C��mon, c��mon! Get your shit together! Fucking! Get! Your! Shit! Together!�� He screamed quietly to himself. He slammed his fist into the side of his thigh a few times and shook his head again. There was another moment of slight hesitation before Harvel darted beyond the mouth of the pipe and into the fray.


    Yiddek, guided by the present version of his brother, walked out after him. Yiddek had never liked violence. He��d always assumed that Harvel did, not always in a good natured way. The way the current Harvel stood in the mayhem, eyes fixated on his own back as he cleared a path towards the fallen cart, Yiddek understood.


    His brother had enjoyed a fist fight, or a back alley brawl, not this. Not this tapestry of clawing, screaming nightmares. Only a few meters away Harvel stopped to pull a screaming waste-walker out from under two ants he��d just shot. They must have done enough already, as the bottom half of the man''s abdomen gave way, causing Harvel to stumble into the blood and muck. He continued to pull the now inert body with him for a few seconds before he noticed the screams had stopped.


    ��W-Why? Why would you run out into this? You��re gonna die fucking running out into something like this!�� YIddek yelled, reaching out to grab his brother, now frantically pulling the corpse between himself and a charging warrior ant. His claw passed right through. For a moment Yiddek had forgotten that this was a memory.


    The ant gnashed its mandibles on the dead man��s torso, warping bone and flesh like clay. Harvel struggled under the weight of the massive insect as he tried to unpin his gun from between himself and the corpse. The ant tore the body away from its prey and loomed over the scout, now readying his gun.


    Before either could move a hail of assault rifle fire tore the warrior ant to shreds. Harvel bolted out from under the carcass before it could pin him to the pipe. He scanned the rubble of the cart, spotting the few surviving scouts and tank-bearers that had saved his skin. He waited for them to lay down a bit of fire behind him before he climbed up towards them.


    ��How many you got left? All we got are the eight of us.�� One of the scouts said between bursts of fire. They had each grabbed an extra assault rifle from the bodies in the cart. Better off in the hands of someone who could pull the trigger.


    ��Me, and another guy, he��s out of it though! He��s in that outflow just over there! Rest of us went down with the second barricade!�� Harvel yelled as he reloaded his shotgun. One of the other scouts handed him an assault rifle and a spare magazine.


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    ��Fuck, well�� We gotta get off this pile and away from the cart! We were hauling berg charges and still had a case left. No doubt the damn thing��s gonna blow soon. We��ll be lucky if the solvent doesn��t fill the pipe and finish off the rest of us. How big is that outflow, uh, Kl-ag-ben-der? �� The leading scout said, struggling to read Selby��s name plate hooked on phonics style. Harvels brain buffered for a moment before the data flowed again.


    ��Small, should funnel them in maybe two at a time at most. I don��t even know if a warrior would fit. If they haven��t found S- um, Gillis, we should have another set of hands by the time we set up. What happened to the barricades on your end?�� Harvel asked, unloading into a warrior that had made its way around the debris pile. Even with half of its skull plate gone he could see the malice in its horrid, multi-colored eyes.


    ��We don��t know! I think the charges blew on the other side before we could even set ours properly. Caused a fucking stampede! We must have caught nearly the whole nest trying to escape!�� The scout yelled, hoisting another case of ammunition out of the wreckage.


    ��There��ll be more soon then! They said the sensors were reading nearly three thousand of ��em! This can��t be all of ��em!�� Harvel said between bursts of rifle fire. The tunnel where Selby was finding his marbles was the only place safer for them. They would need to work quickly.


    ��Where��s Bukky during all of this? Is she alright?�� Yiddek asked, watching Harvel hold off a score of ants alongside the other survivors.


    ��Oh, she��s fine. She��s in the second layer of barricades on the other side of the nest. Barely fired her gun. The plan was to blow holes in the outer layer all at the same time then pump in aerosolized pesticide. Box them in at all sides, let the chemicals do their work, then clean up the rest.�� Harvel answered, gesturing towards the end of the pipe teeming with ants.


    ��That��s good, I guess. I suppose she��s seen her own share of this type of thing.�� Yiddek commented, prompting a nod from current Harvel. In the past he was chucking green flares beyond the light created by the flaming cart. He fastened a gas mask over his face as two other walkers began lobbing pesticide grenades down the pipe.


    ��Hey, we should get moving, right? Those charges are gonna blow soon, and that outflow is the only place I can think of right now! I think we should grab a few steel plates from the cart and hole up for as long as we can. It��ll be an hour before anyone makes it this way!�� Harvel suggested, pointing out a few relatively undamaged plates near the bottom of the debris pile.


    The scout looked at the rest of what was left of his team, exchanging shrugs and desperate expressions. Two tank bearers slid down the pile of bodies and rubble, and began digging out a few of the plates. The leading scout handed Harvel a case of ammo and he joined a group bringing what they could salvage back to the outflow.


    ��Why did you go along with being called Klagbender? I know you have his jacket on and all but why lie?�� Yiddek asked as the group emerged from the hole again. Harvel shook his head a bit in disappointment.


    ��I was afraid, I think. Selby and I were next up to join Teams 5 and 6. I wanted to be on Team 5, where Bukky was going, you know? If I made it through this while Selby was half asleep there��s no way Lier would have let me stick with 5. I would have had to go on TV too. I couldn��t do that.�� Harvel answered, sounding a little more like himself than he had lately.


    ��I mean, I get you wanting to be near Bukky, and not exactly wanting to be on TV, but I don��t understand what you mean by " couldn''t ". It��s not like it would have been the end of the world. I could��ve told people my brother was famous.�� Yiddek said, attempting to lighten the mood. Harvel looked up at him, a warm smile spread across his face.


    ��I was afraid you weren��t the brother you are. I was wrong. I��m sorry. I let my assumptions get the better of me.�� He answered, nodding. He had assumed of course that YIddek wouldn��t want his colleagues to know he had a wastewalker for a brother, or why he was one in the first place. That sort of thing could have cost Yiddek opportunities the world over.


    ��Harvel I was never ashamed of you, or Bukky for that matter. I know I didn��t believe you about what Pellerton was doing, but after the trial I started looking into things. Meadows has a case we��re building to bring to the lower executive board. We think select clinics are being used as fronts to move massive amounts of pharmaceuticals through multiple townships.�� Yiddek said, a proud grin painted across his face.


    ��But I was. Ashamed, I mean. For a long time, I was. I was ashamed of how I dragged Bukky into this. Of how I could have ruined your career. I couldn��t even fathom that you might be proud of us. Proud of me. The old me. The human me.�� Harvel answered, gesturing towards his memory, now pulling extra magazines off the dead waste-walker he��d previously tried to save. He paused to salvage a spare gas mask, and shut the man��s mouth before moving on to the next corpse.


    Yiddek thought he might say something at first, but his words failed him. Harvel hadn��t shown much in the way of regret when they were younger. He��d admired the way Harvel could say he didn��t care about things like that. Harvel was all heart and no regrets. At this moment it seemed like his brother wished he didn��t have either.


    ��Do you hate humans, Harvel?�� Yiddek asked, finally coming up with something to break the silence. Harvel smiled the same knowing smile he had been using lately.


    ��I don��t know. Probably not, but I was human, and I certainly hated myself.�� He answered, watching the memory version of himself drag a broken tank of pesticide into the outflow.

 Chapter 35: "Time is not a line."

    Dibbuk glanced upwards. One of the bells was getting louder. The one nearly right above her head sounded like she was standing in a church belfry. It had an odd little tone to it that wasn��t there before. They were currently harmonizing, the smaller one ringing as the first faded.


    Dibbuk stood up. She was growing tired of this waiting. As patient as she might be, this was bordering on ridiculous. If this peaceful little beach were a restaurant she��d have been waving down the wait staff by now, and she really wasn��t the type.


    Either things were going to kick off now or later. She��d rather go with now if she had the choice. This underground sea, and whatever was lurking beneath, was calling her. She couldn''t keep sending it to voicemail for the rest of eternity.


    Looking back up towards the harmonizing bells one more time Dibbuk stepped into the water. Her foot immediately began to go numb up to the ankle. She��d wondered what the water would feel like for a living being. For some reason she couldn��t explain she knew that this sea was meant for the dead. She hoped they offered some sort of day pass.


    Dibbuk waded out into the unnaturally still water until it reached her knees and stopped. She felt the call of the depths from somewhere in her genes. A call strong enough that holding herself in place was like fighting against time itself. She took one more step, and then another.


    Her feet couldn��t, no, wouldn��t stay in place. With each step the shore grew further and further away, and ever deeper she went. When the water was nearly to Dibbuks jaw her feet stopped. A vibration was moving through the water.


    It was a gradual, gentle, comforting pulse. It was the only thing she could actually feel at this point. The numbness had reached her head, save for a singular spot on her forehead. The spot itched a bit.


    Through the water she could see a drop-off near the ends of her feet. The darkness below seemed almost enticing. Dibbuk had always loved mysteries. Now, perhaps the greatest mystery of all time was only a few feet away. It was excruciating to keep herself from the last short hop she��d need.


    The darkness below moved. Something enormous was shifting in the abyss. Dibbuk thought she saw scales. As nearly every cell in her body screamed at her to run, she found her feet rooted in the sediment.


    The mass shifted around in the water beneath her, causing ripples of vibrations to fly across the surface. A sort of liquid mound formed in the middle of the sea for a moment before a large scaly head broke through. It must have been the size of nearly ten city blocks. Dibbuk tried to move again but something told her to stay.


    Apart from the gargantuan size, Dibbuk thought it looked rather like a Tar-Khal. It had scales that crested its head, reminiscent of some male Tar-Khal. The shape of its snout was nearly identical to hers and her brothers, and its skin was a sandy, cracked yellow like many modern Tar-Khal. As the creature emerged though, the similarities lessened more and more.


    It became apparent that if this was a Tar-Khal, it was unlike any she had ever, or would ever see. It opened its eyes and turned slightly to look at her. If she had to go off of its expression it wasn��t overly impressed. There was another ripple of vibrations as it exhaled, causing a depression to form in the water in front of its face. It��s mouth opened.


    ��Yerach tulg? Tulgo gulk nonren. Elek tel foke hoggle, Dibbuk.�� It said, giving Dibbuk a disapproving look. The voice it produced was far deeper and more ancient than the carved stones of the deep tunnels. It must have been here eons before the city, maybe even before modern Tar-Khal.


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    ��I��m sorry, was that Tar-Khali? I don��t speak much of it, but I think I heard you swear. You said my name, didn��t you?�� Dibbuk asked, inching a little further towards the edge. The creature shook its head and made a face as if it were remembering something. It began staring at the ceiling and squinting from the effort.


    ��Foke. English�� too old�� don��t remember�� anymore. Dibbuk. Flu- frustrating. Foke!�� It boomed, snapping its jaws in her vicinity. Dibbuk was taken aback at the gesture. Tar-Khal hadn��t shown aggression as a form of communication for millennia.


    For the first time she saw the creature''s eyes in the dim starlight. The milky white that reflected back at her seemed to go on forever. It was probably blind in its extremely old age.


    ��H- how do you know English? That��s a human language. You must be nearly a hundred thousand years old.�� She asked, waving her hand above her head to see if the being reacted. It didn��t.


    ��Time is not- a line. Heh heh. If it were, you��d be the old one.�� It said, laboriously piecing the words together. It turned this way and that, sniffing the air before it turned to face Dibbuk.


    ��That��s not very helpful. How do you know my name? What is this place?�� Dibbuk asked, beginning to grow impatient. She��d already been tired of waiting before meeting the living fossil in front of her, and its way of waiting nearly a minute between words was beginning to work her nerves.


    ��Secrets�� Secrets�� Not for you to learn yet, but I think you already know what this place is.�� It answered. Dibbuk assumed the smile was meant to be coy, yet it came off as condescending.


    ��This water is filled with souls. It��s almost like I can hear voices when I sit on the bank. I can��t hear them anymore.�� Dibbuk said, pulling her claws back and forth through the water.


    ��Souls. Inaji- Imaginative, but not quite. These are memories, spesiphi- specifically those of the dead. Allegr- Aggregated over trillions of years of life inside of a single being.�� The ancient Tar-Khal explained, pausing to correct its spelling occasionally.


    ��Then, are you dead? Am I?�� Dibbuk asked, taking another look at what seemed to be memories of her claws.


    ��I am�� not dead. As for you, your body isn��t but your brain is. You��re in the phase between life and death.�� It answered. Dibbuk wasn��t quite sure she believed him. That first part had sounded a bit dodgy. It had been even slower than the rest of it.


    ��Well, how do I stop it? Whatever is killing me must be taking its sweet time. I feel like I��ve been down here for days, weeks even.�� Dibbuk remarked, rubbing her non-existent temples. While the condescending old dragon was causing her enough frustration, slowly dying didn��t help.


    She��d done a lot of work up until this point to prevent that, even if she��d played no small part in almost causing it. Dibbuk was starting to feel like she couldn��t catch a break. It had felt like an eternity and she hadn��t even gotten a wink of sleep. A shame, really.


    ��You��ve been here- for a little over two hours.�� The old dragon answered, cracking a wry smile. Dibbuk shook her head in disappointment.


    ��I don��t know what I was expecting.�� She thought, peering down into the abyss in front of her. The ancient Tar-Khal chuckled, sending waves of vibration across the surface of the water.


    ��Kohkt aulek ikt.�� He said, rather cheerfully. Dibbuk stared daggers at the old dragon. After a moment of tension killing silence, It pulled in close and brought one of its enormous milky white eyes down to her level.


    ��Time is not a line. I know this. Your brother knows this. And now, you know it.�� He said, sinking below the water''s surface. Dibbuk wasn��t sure she liked the old Tar-Khal, but something told her he was trustworthy. Something also told her she should follow it below the waves and into the dark.


    ��Time is not a line.�� Dibbuk recited to herself as she took a last look at the stars. The bells were still ringing, yet now they seemed to be coming from below the water. She didn��t hold her breath or hesitate. She simply stepped off into the dark and descended into the deep.

 Chapter 36: “Yeah, this should do it.”

    ��Huh, never seen that before.�� Lier mumbled as he looked through the binoculars he was holding. He passed them back to Wicksomme, who upon seeing what Lier had, gawped silently. There must have been hundreds of them.


    Wicksomme looked back down the tunnel they''d come from. After they''d all had a lot less sleep than they would have liked, Lier had grabbed him instead of Selby to help him scout. They were maybe a mile ahead of the others, who were taking stock of their supplies and cleaning gear. It could be the difference between life and death for the whole team if a tank pump or a rifle malfunctioned while they were this far under the city.


    ��How is she not dead? Why��s she got that look on her face? What��s that thing on her forehead?�� The young man asked, leaning in further instead of adjusting the focus. Lier pulled the kid back and snatched the device from his hands. He silently demonstrated how the middle knob turned before using it himself to focus on Dibbuks forehead.


    More precisely he focused on the odd orange growth sprouting from between her eyes. It was small, almost unnoticeable even with the binoculars focused perfectly. The only reason Lier could see it was the way the color stood out against her scales. It almost looked like a little traffic cone, keeping the area between her eye crests clear of passerby.


    Lier took another look at her surroundings. He��d seen the ancient wastewalker cart from the beginning but it was the ants that really interested him. They weren��t just sitting still. Their antennae were extended towards Velez like some sort of prayer or salute. He could feel a faint vibration moving through the stone.


    ��What��s with that look on her face? It��s all wrong, usually she looks well, kinda depressed, or tired, but that��s just unnatural.�� Wicksomme thought, squinting into the distance. Lier couldn��t fault the kids'' radar. That smirk was practically violence incarnate.


    Lier had always kept at least one eye on Dibbuk, in no small part due to one of his eyes being fixated on Harvel. He certainly liked the young woman a hell of a lot more than he did her brother. She had a solid head on her for the most part.


    Quick thinking and if not courageous, then loyal to a fault. A bit on guard, but that was a good thing down here. If it hadn��t been for her lack of credentials she would have made an excellent engineer. She paid attention to her gear in a way that almost made Lier ashamed of his own sporadic routine. He hesitantly glanced down at the grime building up about his trigger group.


    ��I don��t either, but those ants will tear us to shreds the moment we make a move towards them.�� Lier whispered, leaning a bit around the corner himself to take in the whole scene. Wicksomme turned to look at Lier, bewildered. In the distance something moved. The stone block only an inch or so from the pairs faces exploded into tiny shards, showering them in dust.


    Lier whipped Wicksomme around him and down the pipe, sliding through the muck on his side. A split second later two more holes appeared in the brick behind Lier, knocking him to the ground. Lier scrambled to pull himself into the muck, hoping to throw off their aim. Liers arms lost their strength quickly. Using what little he had left Lier turned himself over. He refused to die face down in shii...


    Another few holes popped into existence in the wall opposite them before the tunnel went still. Wicksomme pulled himself over to Lier as he lay in the muck. He dared not stand up for fear of more fire. He grabbed Liers suit and dragged him further away from the intersection, shaking him gently. Lier didn��t move. A voice echoed throughout the tunnel. A voice that was so close to being familiar that the uncanny nature of it''s cadence chilled Wicksommes blood.


    ��Yulk garak! Tik dur leahg surro!�� It bellowed, echoing around the pipes for an unnaturally long time. Wicksomme gulped and tried to shake Lier awake again. Lier didn��t move. Wicksomme raised his head a little and noticed the dark streaks of blood that the captain had left behind in the muck.


    Whatever she had said, no, it had said, Wicksomme hadn��t understood it. Then again, he didn��t need to. Whatever had killed Lier had made one thing perfectly clear. It didn��t intend on giving Dibbuk back.


    The young man slid backwards in the grime, pulling Liers body along with him. Each foot he moved felt like a million, his legs screaming with exhaustion. Lier in all of his gear must have weighed over two hundred and thirty pounds, and his knuckles spent every moment reminding him.


    Over the next few minutes Wicksomme watched the corner of the tunnel fade into the steam of decomposition. When he could no longer feel the vibrations through the muck he let his heart beat slow down. It had been slamming into his sternum like a fleshy hammer. He was surprised it wasn��t making little splashes in the filth.


    ��What the hell just happened?�� He choked, eyes fixated on the gaping exit wound in Liers chest. Bits of bone and other flesh Wicksomme couldn��t identify were strewn across the front of his suit. He��d gotten used to the smell of sewage, but entrails were a different matter.


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    ��Oh, no. Kid���� A voice muttered behind him. Wicksomme turned and pulled a knife, his heart in his throat. He hadn��t even really heard the words, just the sound. He lowered the knife until it rested on his thigh, and watched the three other wastewalkers slosh solemnly out of the steam.


    ��Didn��t think I��d have to bury you too.�� Don said, making his way towards the captain''s mangled corpse. Selby stood with Mary, the two each resting a hand on Wicksommes sagging shoulders.


    ��Plenty of others I knew I would, but I always thought you��d go all the way.�� Don muttered, leaning down and rustling about in the collar of Lier��s suit. He stood up and took his helmet off. He seemed to be having some sort of internal struggle.


    ��You two. Liers missing his tags. Follow the tracks and see if you can dig em up. Be careful though, it can go through walls. Stay low and away from wherever you see broken rocks.�� Don said, pointing down the other end of the tunnel. Mary gave him a slightly confused look before pulling Selby down the pipe by his pack. Wicksomme saw a glint as Don slid his hand into his pocket.


    ��Sure, but clean them up a bit. They both look like shit.�� Mary barked, disappearing into the fog. A trail of shifting vapor was soon all Wicksomme could see of the two.


    ��Now, time to get a good look at you.�� Don grunted, grabbing Liers body by the wrists and pulling him up next to where Wicksomme was sitting. He unbuckled the captains helmet and held it out to the young wastewalker.


    ��What��re you up to?�� Wicksomme asked, anxiously fumbling for the helmet with his free hand. Don ignored him and unlatched the plates covering the front of Lier��s suit. He pulled the envirosuit away from the wound and tilted his head back and forth.


    ��Not so bad to be honest. All said and done, if there��s enough left in there he might even be able to wear the odd t-shirt now and again.�� Don said, jovially ruffling Lier��s graying hair. His head lolled to the side, inches away from Wicksommes face. He slid the glove from his right hand and cracked his knuckles.


    Dons head snapped towards Wicksomme. He stared at the man as if he could see his soul. His eyes dropped out of focus after a couple of seconds and then before Wicksomme had even noticed his right hand was empty. Don raked the blade across the knuckles of his bare hand.


    ��What did y-�� Wicksomme started, but his words failed him. Little branches of green began to undulate and form from each of the cuts. They looked like tiny bits of coral building itself into a web at the end of his fist. Don handed him the knife and pulled the suit away again.


    ��Yeah, this should do it.�� Don said, smiling at the web of green blood forming around his fingers. He plunged the fist directly into the wound, pushing until his wrist was the only visible part left. Liers body made a violent start, twitching and writhing next to Wicksomme. Don pushed further into the wound, nearly up to his forearm.


    ��What the fuck?! What the fuck are you doing you daft old bastard?!�� Wicksomme shouted, batting away one of Liers arms that had bounced onto his shoulder. Don chuckled as the young man tried to scramble away.


    ��Gotta get it in there deep. Else it wont work right!�� Don said, grunting as he forced his fist deeper into Liers chest cavity. Lier continued to stare sightlessly into the middle distance as his limbs twitched to and fro. Wicksomme held the knife between himself and Don, aware that it most likely wouldn��t do any good against the veteran wastewalker.


    Liers body gave one last jerk and then went still. Don placed his foot on Liers thigh and pulled his fist out, leaving a trail of blood and viscera behind him. Wicksomme stared at the man he��d worked with for the last three months like a monster from another world. He��d heard that you could go mad down here. Maybe this was all just some horrific delusion.


    ��You- You��re a goddamn monster. Is this some kind of sick joke? Defiling his body like that?!�� Wicksomme shouted, the knife quivering in his hand. Don kicked the knife out of the way and gave him a disappointed look.


    ��It��s all a sick joke kid, from up there to down here. What I just did is one of the few exceptions. Keep your eyes open. You might learn a thing or two.�� Don huffed, whipping a bit of blood and pus from his hand. Wicksomme rubbed his hand and glanced at the knife. Don looked at his watch.


    Wicksomme took his chance and dove for the knife. Don stepped on the blade and dropped his knee onto Wicksommes head. Dazed, the young man struggled to get his bearings, but before his head could clear Don had him in a headlock.


    ��Would you just stop struggling and look? Fucking hell.�� Don growled, pulling Wicksomme into a sitting position and wrenching his head towards Liers body. Or, at least what he thought was Liers body. Don kept a firm grip on the lad as he tilted his head and checked his watch again.


    ��Any. Second. Now.�� Don spat, straining a bit against Wicksommes struggling. He was strong for a lanky kid with a baby face. Maybe he would make it through the night. It was one of the few good feelings Don tended to have about people.


    Liers body blinked. Then, Lier blinked. He coughed, clutching at his left side and stamped his foot.


    ��God! Damn! That fuckin stings!�� Lier howled, pulling at his suit. The majority of his intact skin was covered in green splotches. The wound however had begun forming what looked like orange mold. It continued to grow until the crimson abyss in his chest was no longer visible.


    Lier continued to wheeze as he poked the orange mass. Don released his grip on Wicksomme, who in his awe sat stone still. Lier looked up at the two of them confused.


    ��You two been making pottery or something?�� He scoffed, pulling his suit back over his shoulder. He winced and slumped onto the tunnel wall. Don rolled Wicksomme over his leg and stood up, wiping muck off of him as he did.


    ��You really gonna play this game, lad? Pull that back off. I want to see my handiwork.�� Don ordered, getting an annoyed look on his face. Lier glared back at him defiantly. Don sighed. He picked up Liers helmet and leaned down, shoving it onto his head.


    ''Now, tell me. What music did you hear boy?''

 Chapter 37: "Something, sure, but not this."

    Lemmy pulled another coolant hose around the back of the trip boat and set it into the final valve inlet. Twisting until the hose locked into place, he wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead and marveled at the line of hoses that ran down the side of the boat, all of which were feeding his dream. His dream to finally, truly, revolutionize transportation.


    ��So, think we��re gonna live through the trip? Yiddek an- Yiddek has a lot riding on this.�� Parker asked, leaning over the side of the interspace vessel. For a moment she had forgotten Harvel was dead. It had only been about twenty minutes since they��d put him on the table.


    ��Yeah, I think we will. If we��ll all be in the same shape afterwards is the real question. We might turn into cubes, or beings a micron thin. You never know with extra-space travel. You kind of have to expect anything.�� Lemmy answered, sounding a bit more anxious than he wanted to let on. He couldn��t be the universe''s greatest engineer if he ended up as a crab, or a wire, or a shoe.


    ��Admittedly I could probably work a keyboard as a crab, but I certainly don��t want to find ou-�� Lemmy started to think, but the thought was cut off. Parker''s eyes had gone wide, the iris expanding nearly instantaneously.


    ��What? What is it?�� Lemmy asked. Parker wasn��t looking at him. She was focused on the back of his workshop, near the office.


    ��Stay here. Grab Aldon.�� She answered, vaulting over the side of the ship and landing next to him. She��d drawn her pistol on the way down, and was checking the ammunition. Lemmy nodded and began power walking around the bow of the vessel nervously.


    ��Yiddek? Are you alright?!�� Parker asked, grabbing a couple of spare bolts and tossing them lightly through the doorway. Her eyes found Harvels eviscerated corpse, still spilling over the edges of the table. Having seen the horrors lurking inside of Harvel she could only imagine the worst of possibilities.


    Parker started to slide in beyond the doorway, careful to check her corners. She was glad she did, or she would have missed the 12 foot tall mycelia abomination that was slowly beginning to envelop Yiddek. Her memories of the tentacled evil attempting to eat her spread through her thoughts like wildfire.


    As the flames started to eat away at her sense of reason, Parker leveled her weapon at the monster''s head. Its sunken soulless eyes stared blankly at the concrete in front of her. As her finger began to squeeze, another small detail stood out to her. The pair looked like they were holding hands.


    Her finger paused, holding the trigger at the very threshold past which it would fire. As a moment passed, Parker''s vision focused on the larger picture. The fog of fear and instinct cleared and she took in the scene as it was.


    The two were in fact, holding hands. Holding hands the same way herself and Harvel had earlier. When Parker had seen him, all of him, as he was to no-one else. The thought made the tips of her fingers itch. She could still occasionally detect hints of polymer framed pistol on her tongue.


    ��Is- is it alright? What did you find?�� Lemmy whispered as he peeped his head around the corner of the thin drywall barrier his garage considered a wall. His face made its way through a few stages of horror and confusion as the pair of brothers came into view.


    ��I don��t know. It might be Harvel, or what��s left of him I guess.�� Parker answered, lowering her pistol. The hand that Harvel had caught her by felt as if it were filled with television static.


    She drew a bit closer until she could get a better look at the organism''s face. Parker wasn��t sure what she was looking for. It wasn��t as if the thing looked like the foul mouthed wastewalker in any way.


    ��No pointed nose, or laugh lines. No gentle green eyes, or handso-�� Parker shook her head clear. ��Get a hold of yourself! Is now really the time to be thinking about his face? Why not just look at it? It��s over there, and over there, and there��s some on the floor near your foot!�� Parker thought frustratedly, grimacing as she moved her right foot approximately six inches to the left.


    Why? Why hadn��t she been able to get his face out of her head since he had caught her? She had seen plenty of other things during her moments crashing her way through Harvels mind like a black friday sale. Why him? Why now?


    She wasn��t some starry eyed fangirl in front of her crush. She was a mercenary who was somehow on the precipice of scientific discovery, and he was now a large sentient mushroom. Something must have gone terribly awry in this romance novel. Just her luck.


    She looked back up at the sunken holes peering sightlessly down at her. If he was in fact him, he was very unnerving to look at. When Parker looked into its eyes though, she could see it. The same gentleness Harvel had, nestled deep within the sockets.


    ��You know, I don��t think I like the idea of you an�� him dating any more. Don��t really care who his brother is.�� Aldon said, leaning against the table. Parker turned, giving him an incredulous look.


    ��What? I had a feeling back in the bathroom that something along these lines was gonna happen. Believe it or not I��ve got a nose for this sort of weirdness.�� Aldon explained as he holstered his own sidearm back into his jacket.


    ��I��m not going to accept that you called this. Something, sure, but not this.�� Parker teased, getting a bit closer to the pair of brothers. She knelt down and inspected their hands clasped together. There was a bit of overlap, but she couldn��t in any way say Harvel was attempting to absorb Yiddek.


    * * * * * * * * * * *


    Deep in the depths of Harvels memories Yiddek watched wastewalker after wastewalker fall in what would later be known as the Hall-West incident. Harvel didn��t show him everything. He would skip forwards occasionally. They had thought help would arrive after only an hour or so, yet here they were six hours later. Down to the last four left.


    Two men that Harvel had called Yanez and LaFayette held large slabs of steel in front of them while Harvel and the now conscious Selby fired through gaps in the cover. Harvel didn��t know the mens names. He��d never met them before. There was a break in the fight causing the two to throw themselves towards the last box of loaded magazines. They each took exactly half of the magazines left.


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    ��Hey, thanks for saving my ass back there.�� Selby said, exhausted after the longest night of his life. Harvel nodded his head as he stacked the rest of the magazines next to the man holding up his barrier.


    ��Well, we��ve been saving each other''s asses for the last two hours. So, we call it even, yeah?�� Harvel said, reloading his rifle and bracing it against the steel.


    ��Yeah, sure.�� Selby answered, seemingly unsure. If Harvel hadn��t carried him nearly half a mile, well they��d both probably be dead by now, but he would have been dead much sooner.


    As the two sat in silence, waiting for the last time they might hear it, shots rang out. For a few seconds each of them assumed the other was the one firing. They kept their eyes focused on the mouths of their respective tunnels.


    ��Is that you? Is my hearing that shot? It ain��t me.�� Harvel asked, lifting his head from the sights of his rifle. Selby shook his head. They hadn��t heard gunshots that weren��t their own for nearly two hours.


    Harvel stood still as stone before pointing down the third tunnel. The third pipe that intersected their own was a downward outflow. The ants hadn��t figured out that they could have come from below. Harvel followed Selby for a few feet out of view before pulling off the top half of the suit he was wearing.


    ��Put it on. I��m gonna need mine back before anyone else sees us.�� He stated, holding the jacket out towards Selby.


    ��Okay, okay. No need to sound mad about it. I didn��t lose the patch�� Selby commented, pulling off the custom jacket and trading with Harvel. The two slipped on the insulated outerwear and Harvel walked back out to the barricade Selby had been shooting from.


    Yiddek looked down at his brother. Neither of them had said anything for a while now. He felt his brother''s grip tighten suddenly. At first Yiddek thought this might be due to the flashlights that had appeared at the end of the tunnels. Safety at last from the endless violence, yet he had gone stiff.


    ��Harvel? What are you looking at?�� Yiddek asked, following the line of his eyes. If that were any indication he was looking down at a crumpled beer can covered in unspeakable things. As Yiddek waved his claw in front of Harvels face, he spoke in a distant tone.


    ��The most beautiful thing I��ve ever seen.�� He mouthed. Yiddek felt the urge to ask if he meant the flattened receptacle but decided against it.


    * * * * * * * * * * *


    Back in the garage, Parker had leaned in close to the two clasped hands. She wondered if Yiddek��s claw would feel like television snow too. It might be nice to discuss the feeling with someone else. She didn��t know how else to describe it and calling it that was making her feel a bit silly.


    ��Did he just move?�� Lemmy asked, pointing at the 12 foot tall Harvel. Parker looked up. The face had shifted, its eyes now looking directly down in her direction. Though the eyes looked like they were boring into her soul, they felt softer than that. As if steeped in admiration instead of the sadness she��d seen before.


    ��Thanks for not pulling the trigger.�� A voice echoed throughout Parkers mind. It was soft and slow, like muted bells.


    ��You��re welcome. You��re okay, aren��t you? Yiddek is okay too?�� Parker said, unsure of how to proceed. She didn��t usually talk to fungi.


    ��Yiddek is okay. I am showing him things.��


    ��And you? You didn��t answer me.�� Parker asked sternly. He wasn��t going to get away from that one. She��d seen how he did that to his sister when she asked as well. Harvel stayed silent for a while.


    ��I am�� unsure of what okay means for me at this point. I can��t seem to remember being okay before.��


    ��Well, I think you were doing the best you could. How much do you remember?�� Parker asked, finally taking the time to holster her sidearm. This didn��t seem like the type of conversation you had while holding a weapon.


    ��Who are you talking to?�� Lemmy piped up, pulling himself shoulders first around the doorway.


    ��Yeah, been talking to yourself for the last minute and a half.�� Aldon added, sliding his knife across a whetstone he��d pulled out of a pile of junk.


    ��You can��t hear him?�� Parker asked, folding her arms. She wasn��t about to let them act as if she were insane, not after the night they��d been having. Aldon and Lemmy both shook their heads.


    ��Must be some sort of romantic connection.�� Aldon teased. Parker hid her embarrassment as she looked for something non-lethal to lob at his head. The workshop was full of tools and pieces of tech, but noticeably devoid of oranges like she would typically have had on hand at home.


    ��If you keep it up I��ll tell Hoang it was you who fucked up her bathroom. Have fun finding pineapple soup anywhere else in the city.�� Parker retorted, settling for potentially lethal words instead.


    ��You wouldn��t.�� Aldon stated, a slight whine in his voice.


    ��I would.�� Parker said, turning back to Harvel.


    ��Hey, can you talk to anyone else?�� She asked, jerking a thumb back at her uncle and Lemmy. Harvel didn��t respond. Parker snapped her fingers in front of Harvels face.


    ��I think I lost him again.�� She muttered, snapping her fingers a few more times.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    ��We need to go. They��re waiting for us.�� Harvel commented suddenly.


    ��Damn! Scared the shit out of me! You��ve been gone for nearly an hour. They already came and found you guys. My legs got tired.�� Yiddek said with a start. He was sitting on the curve of the pipe, his claw still clasped around his brother''s hand.


    ��Sorry. I didn��t notice. Time is not a line. I��m trying to be in three places, all at once�� Harvel stated, ignoring Yiddeks confused look. The pipe around them faded and was replaced near instantaneously with ants. Tons of them.


    Yiddek nearly yelped as one of them passed through him and joined the mass of insects forming around what he could only describe as an upside down train. His sister was standing atop the mound. Screaming obscenities in Khalish.


    ��Harvel, why is she screaming so loud? She keeps saying she��ll rip her own insides out and strangle someone with them.�� Yiddek asked, wincing with each booming syllable.


    ��I see we��ve found her body, but I don��t think that��s her mind. He must think I��ve forgotten our little talk.�� Harvel answered, his eyes never leaving the small orange growth on his sister''s forehead. He couldn��t actually hear the shouting. The bell was drowning it out.


    ��Who��s Lindon?! She keeps mouthing off about him!�� Yiddek shouted, now attempting to bury one ear in his shoulder while he covered the other with his free claw.


    ��Ah, we should be getting back. I can tell you about him later.�� Harvel answered, having sifted through enough cosmic secrets to know plenty about his teammates'' charade by this point. His mind was coming back together. His memories weren��t all there, but he was getting faster at processing the information now.


    As the world began to fade, Dibbuk''s face turned towards the two. It had heard Harvels bell. The Old Spore knew they were there. Harvel let go of Yiddeks claw and the two were once again standing in the workshop.

 Chapter 38: "And for what?"

    The sound of boots slapping into the wet sediment at the bottom of the tunnel echoed throughout the passage. The two incredibly unmotivated wastewalkers moved through the system at a snails pace. Selby walked, hunched over, shotgun at the ready. Mary scanned the tunnel ahead with eyes like steel.


    ��What do you think he meant by it can go through walls? I could hear her shouting, but she didn��t shoot. I��m glad though, I don��t want to die like Lier. All�� hollowed out, like that.�� Selby asked, looking to the extremely calm senior engineer. Mary scoffed.


    ��You don��t want to die like that? I would. It was probably quicker than what��ll happen to us. Damn Lier. He didn��t deserve to die like that.�� Mary answered. Selby had to process what she had said.


    ��Wait, what do you me-�� Selby started, but Mary cut him off with merely a glance.


    ��Quickly. He didn��t deserve to die quickly. If there were any justice in this world it would have been slow.�� Mary answered, hatred pouring out of the words like a fountain.


    ��I don��t know if I would go that far.�� Selby muttered, feeling a little defensive. He��d never known the captain to be anything short of decent.


    ��You don��t know much at all. Most of the walkers don��t when it comes to Lier. Or me. Or his family. I��m not going to say more, just know that you should keep your trap shut about it if you��d like to keep all of your teeth.�� Mary growled, keeping her eyes glued to the tunnel ahead. They hadn��t found any damn tags. All they��d found were the remains of a stone wall and half of Lier''s insides.


    The two spent the next few minutes in silence, Dibbuks insane shouting slowly fading into a consistent reverberation behind them. Selby had decided that doing what Mary said made logical sense in his current situation. Mary stiffened as familiar voices began to bounce their way towards them. Three familiar voices��


    ��Wait�� That��s the captain, right? What? Are they playing a recording of him or something?�� Selby asked, straining his ears to make out anything coherent. Mary��s face didn��t move. Her legs were a different story altogether.


    *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *


    ��Wait, so you mean I can��t die anymore? At all? It��ll all just fill in with this�� Stuff?�� Lier asked, taking another poke at the spongy orange fungus. He was still processing what he had seen and felt. He was beginning to get headaches. It was like he could almost taste the sweat coming off of his own forehead.


    ��Mycelia, and for the most part, yeah. Ain��t never been incinerated or anything, but gunshots, ant wounds? It all just puts things back in order.�� Telio answered, showing Lier a few places he��d been shot over the years. Though there weren��t any scars, the wounds had left spots where the fungi showed through under his skin.


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    ��Oh? That��s good. Not horrifying in the least.�� Wicksomme chimed in. He��d been through the worst night of his life so far, and it was probably going to get worse. At this point he just wanted to get it over with, whatever it was.


    ��I agree.�� A voice growled. A split second later a shot rang out and Telio clutched his thigh. It had been a clean shot, the round burying itself into the muck behind him.


    "Fuck! Save your bullets damn it!�� Telio shouted, inspecting the hole already nearly filled in with fungus. Another shot rang out. Another hole formed in Telio��s shoulder. Again the wound instantaneously filled with mycelia.


    ��Why? You��re going to get us all killed down here anyway. And for what? So you can do to us what you��ve done to Lier?�� Mary spat, pulling her arm away from Selby��s desperate attempt to stop her. She leveled the pistol for another round.


    The group stood frozen still. Telio held his hands out in front of him while Marys eyes bored even more holes in the man. She was looking for another soft target.


    ��Twenty years... I should have known. Twenty years, and you barely aged a day.�� Mary said, eyes wild with rage.


    ��Look, I can explai-�� Telio started. Another shot boomed through the tunnel. A new hole appeared, then disappeared.


    ��Twenty years of watching you run away, and leave the others behind, just to save our skins? How many have you let die? How many? How many?!�� Mary screamed, leveling the pistol at Telios head. Her finger began to squeeze the trigger.


    A fist like a brick sailed out of the darkness and slammed into the side of Mary��s temple. The world spun as her brain bounced from one side of her skull to the other for a moment before she hit the ground. She looked through bleary eyes up at Wicksomme, standing over her.


    ��You fire that fucking gun again�� and I��ll put it down your throat�� I don��t care about all of this dramatic nonsense right now. I owe Dibbuk. I��m not going to let you get us all killed before I pay her back.�� Wicksomme stated, complete and utter disapproval in his glare. Mary had to wait a second for it all to register, the rage still working its way out of her brain.


    ��Thanks, ki-�� Telio started, but Wicksomme cut him off.


    ��Shut it. We need to move. We might already be fucked.�� The young tankbearer interjected, pulling his tanks onto his back. He pointed down the tunnel. He��d heard something while the shots were bouncing around the tunnel.


    ��You hear that? He��s right.�� Lier added, nodding towards the growing sound of many large and deadly legs moving towards the group.They were still a ways away, but despite the distance the tunnel was filling with a cacophony like rolling thunder. Mary massaged her jaw and begrudgingly nodded her head. A somber understanding rolled over the group.


    Their options now were to either shore up and die here, or move and die trying to get Dibbuk back. Accusations, however well earned they might be, were something they no longer had time for. In fact, they had little time for anything save for a few grudge filled sideways glares. It was going to be a long night, or a short one. It all depended on where one was standing��

 Chapter 39: "I believe in you."

    Harvel stood stock still as he watched the members of Team 5 disappear into the fog. They would have to move fast. He��d need to get to both the team and Dibbuk at the same time. Preferably before they had been torn to shreds.


    ��What��s he doing?�� Lemmy called out, fastening the rest of his makeshift control panel to the trip boat. He clipped the ends off of the zip ties for the sake of his own sanity.


    ��He��s just standing there with his hand in the toilet. Been about a minute.�� Aldon shouted, finding himself yet again watching Harvel destroy a bathroom. He was beginning to sense a pattern. Parker peeped her head around the corner to check in.


    ��You think he can hear us?�� She asked, dragging a box out from under a cabinet. It was filled with cans labeled ��brake fluid��.


    ��How would I know? You��re the one he fancies. You talk to him.�� Aldon scoffed, grabbing the box from her and hauling it out into the garage.


    ��He doesn��t fancy me, Aldon! For some reason, and I can��t imagine what it could be, he doesn��t want to talk to you!�� Parker shouted, leaning against the doorway.


    He did fancy her, and before he had turned his own body into a crimson bisque she had started to fancy him. She knew that, but what exactly would the two of them do about it at this point? Standing up on a chair from the workshop, Parker held her hand up in front of Harvels skeleton-like face and made to snap her fingers. Harvels free hand wrapped around hers before she could move.


    ��Why does everyone keep snapping their fingers in front of my face? You could do it from a mile away and I��d still hear it.�� Harvel said, leaning his spindly body around the corner. Yiddek was currently inspecting his remains. All movement in the garage froze.


    ��The fuck was that? Sounded like the exhaust on a damn canal barge.�� Aldon asked, popping his head into the workshop. Yiddek turned around as well, putting his tablet to sleep.


    Harvel attempted to move his jaw again. Oddly enough, he��d somehow kept his bones during what he was now considering his "molting period". They were there under the mycelia. It was a very new feeling, being able to feel one''s own skeleton.


    He��d been thinking about putting together a set of vocal cords since his brother had mentioned it earlier, and it was like the mycelia had rearranged itself. He moved his jaw again. He was close, he could feel it.


    He didn��t have time for this. He let go of Parkers hand and slammed his own full force into his face. He tried to move his jaw again.


    ��Ah, better.�� Harvel said, putting a little more effort into volume control this time. Parker couldn��t really agree. His mouth was less of a mouth and more of a ragged hole. He attempted to smile at her. She might have preferred continuing to take shit from Aldon.


    ��Lemmy? Are we almost ready to go?�� Harvel asked, pulling his hand from the toilet. Little tendrils that had wound their way out of the tips of his fingers slipped their way back into his digits.


    ��Almost. Why? How soon do we need to go?�� Lemmy asked, using a heat gun on a spliced wire. He threw the gun into one of the four seats he had hastily fastened to the deck and tucked the wires haphazardly behind their panel.


    ��Now. At their pace they have a half an hour before they hit the cart, but we��ve only got a few minutes before we need to be there ourselves.�� Harvel said, making his way out into the garage. He lumbered around to the back of the boat and grabbed a few more spare AV seats, placing them purposefully behind the others.


    ��What are you doing that for? Wait, no, what did you mean by a half hour at their pace but a few minutes for us? If there��s something going on with time I need to know. This could all go exponentially, existentially, excruciatingly wrong.�� Lemmy asked, sweat pouring from already exhausted pores. He��d been working furiously, and he still didn��t know if it would actually stop when it was supposed to. He��d done the last month of assembly in a matter of minutes.


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    ��There is something going on with time. It wont matter.�� Harvel answered, nodding to the exasperated pioneer. Lemmy blinked a few times.


    ��No, I really do think it��s going to matter. If our theory of time is off then the predictions I��ve made about how to navigate the rift could be as well. That would be bad, very bad.�� Lemmy insisted, stopping Harvel as he pulled a piece of wood out from a pile.


    ��It will be alright. Time is not a line. It will... compensate.�� Harvel said again, continuing to grab a 2x4. He used one of his fingers to carve a set of numbers into the board, looking up occasionally at the control panel near the front of the boat.


    ��C-Compensate?! What does that even mean? I don��t even know what it��s compensating for!�� Lemmy yelled, losing his patience with the fungus. He pulled the board out from Harvels loose grip. They were coordinates.


    ��I wanted to make sure I used the right format. It should line up. Once we��re down there and everyone is on board I need you to put that into the console. It��ll take you to the right place.�� Harvel said, not answering Lemmy in the slightest. Lemmy read the coordinates and did the math.


    ��This, this can��t be right. We��ll come out three thousand feet above the ground. How do you even know we��ll survive? I��ll be lucky to be able to land it right on top of the damn building!�� Lemmy commented, slapping the wood with the back of his hand. Harvel paused for a moment before resting his massive hand on Lemmy��s shoulder.


    ��I believe in you.�� Harvel said, nodding reassuringly.


    ��Why?! I don''t!�� Lemmy asked, looking up towards the sky he would soon be attempting not to fall out of.


    ��That��s a complicated question with a simple answer. Your wife believes in you, and from what I can tell she has a handle on the situation.�� Harvel answered, pointing to a spot in the corner of the ceiling.


    Harvel could practically taste the camera in the rafters. He��d heard about the button, but until he��d had the capability and clarity to put it together it had just been another soggy detail in his mind. Somewhere in the back of his fungal brain he��d been running a sort of subroutine to put the pieces together, and it had completed about two minutes ago.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Asha cut the feed in her monitor away from Harvels unsettling, if not supportive finger. She had about fifteen minutes as far as she could tell. She closed her terminal and checked the time again.


    Asha watched Cerise from across her office. The floors reflected every word she typed on her screen. Most of what she could read were job applications. She couldn��t blame the woman. This was considered to be one of the highest positions you could achieve in Boris-Valka without running for an executive board position, and she��d just found out it was actually a type of living nightmare.


    ��Cerise, I need you to run an errand for me.�� Asha said, rising from her desk. She made her way towards the door of the office and opened a cabinet set into the wall.


    ��Yes, ma��am.�� Cerise answered, hurriedly closing her terminal. She dropped the device into her bag and slung it around her shoulder.


    ��I need you to take the large black AV on my personal pad and get to Lemmy��s shop. Take these with you. I don��t want them dripping on the floors.�� Asha commanded, placing eight pairs of white, plastic wrapped coveralls into Cerises waiting arms.


    ��How many of them will there be? I assume you want me to bring them here, yes?�� Cerise asked, struggling to contain the mass of plastic bags.


    ��I don��t know, and yes, bring them here. It should take around thirty minutes round trip I believe.�� Asha answered, pointing her assistant towards the door. She gently guided the still struggling young woman through the door and nodded good bye.


    Asha waited for the sound of the engines spinning up before she closed the door and the cabinet. She��d bought them about seven minutes. Asha walked back over towards her desk and opened the drawer second from the bottom.


    Every Meadows learned to shoot. It was a fantastic skill for one to have at this level of the Boris-Valkan corporate hierarchy. Bodyguards were fantastic until you saw the assassin crawling out of the bathroom ceiling.


    The pistol had been her fathers. He had only used it once by all accounts, but she��d been there to witness firsthand how often he had practiced. Despite Ashas lack of fascination with the sport she��d found herself proficient enough to get by. She almost felt guilty handling it, but guilt wasn��t a trait commonly celebrated in the Meadows family.


    Asha checked the magazine as she walked back to the door of her office. She took in the whole of the office itself. It was a shame the floors were newly polished. She had been thinking of a more traditional wood and steel affair anyways. Maybe she could have it done by Thursday if she found the right contractor, and the right tow service.

 Chapter 40: "Do you hear it? The music?"

    Dibbuk floated downwards through the sea for what felt like an eternity, though the feeling was no longer new to her. She��d thought the wait above the surface had been long, but it didn��t compare in any way to this. She could see the ancient Tar-Khal swimming in and out of her sight, but they never stopped moving. Its tail wove in and out of the gloom in a never ending pattern.


    Dibbuk looked down at her hands. There was beginning to be a persistent itch in her fingers, accompanied by an infuriating burning in between her eyes. This was all turning out so frustratingly tedious. And above all else she was still tired.


    ��Hey big face! How much further do we have to go? There is a bottom, right?�� Dibbuk yelled, her scream garbled by the surrounding liquid. Pulses of vibration moved through the water in a familiar pattern.


    ��Bottom? Bottom? No, no bottom. Only the bottom of you left to find. Rahg kukal.�� The ancient Tar-Khal answered in between powerful bursts of cynical laughter.


    ��I can too find my own ass, thank you, and that��s a very rude way to use Khalish. What would your mother think?�� Dibbuk barked, continuing to sink deeper. Another bout of vibrations flowed past her.


    ��Nothing. Didn��t know Khalish.�� The Tar-Khal answered, its eye passing directly in front of Dibbuks face.


    ��How? If you��re as old as you should be, there wouldn��t have been any other languages around.�� Dibbuk asked, correctly assuming that the Tar-Khal could be nearly a hundred thousand years old at its size.


    ��Time is not a line. Watch feet.�� The Tar-Khal answered, whipping up sediment as it swam away.


    As if it had been waiting underneath her for the opportune moment, the diatomaceous ooze at the bottom of the sea seeped its way up and between Dibbuks claws. She sank about three inches into the thick organic byproduct and squinted through the cloud of freshly disturbed sediment. Particles whirled in and out of her vision like a billowing sheet made of stars.


    ��Then why don��t you tell me what it damn well is then?�� Dibbuk muttered to herself. She was tired. Tired of only being able to see three inches in front of her face. Tired of all these damn riddles, and above all, just tired. She hadn��t slept in what felt like months.


    ��Can��t, could ruin the story.�� The Tar-Khal bellowed from an unknown distance ahead of her. As its shout faded into the distance, Dibbuk heard the faint sounds of music carried across the flat, featureless sea floor. She could barely make out a few of the words, as distorted as they were.


    ��I��m just a�C l- way from ho-... Stuck in the fo- just can��t s- arou-. Feet grow wea-, miles on the roa-. I��ve got my broth- to hel- me carr- the load.��


    The words were soft, soulful, and filled with longing. Dibbuk could relate. She had a brother to help her carry the load, or maybe she didn��t anymore. She didn��t know if Harvel was still alive.


    Mahone had told her he needed to get it together, and it had been a rough few days. Even if he was dead she would still have Yiddek and their parents, right? She hoped this dance with the devil wasn��t close enough to destroy her entire family. A thought came to her.


    ��Hey, do you have any siblings?�� She called out into the void. She knew the Tar-Khal would hear, the real question was whether it would respond.


    ��I did. Two.�� It answered, the words moving through the water like a gentle wind. It hovered just outside of Dibbuks limited sight.


    ��Are they alive, still? Like you?�� Dibbuk asked, taking her first few steps forward through the sludge. It was a familiar feeling. Like another day on patrol.


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    ��No. All dead. Left me behind.�� The Tar-Khal answered, kicking up waves of sediment again. Dibbuk paused mid step. The answer had been delivered like a joke.


    ��You don��t sound very sad about it.�� Dibbuk stated, letting her foot come back down into the ooze.


    ��Not as sad as you are, I think.�� The Tar-Khal said, pulling just into Dibbuk''s line of sight. Her heart faltered a bit. She��d been putting it off, but somewhere in her mind she knew that Harvel was either dead, or would be soon. He wasn��t the only one either. There was nothing for it.


    ��Well, what do you expect from me?! I��m allowed to be sad, okay! I��ve probably lost my brother, there��s some sort of evil monster of a billionaire after me, and I��m�� I guess I might be dead soon too.�� Dibbuk shouted, taking a few forceful steps forwards through the cloud of sediment.


    ��You can stop it. Your death.�� The Tar-Khal said, thickening the cloud of whirling sediment and ooze. Dibbuk froze.


    ��How?�� She asked, sensing that the Tar-Khals snout was right in front of her. It was like standing in front of a cliff face that she couldn��t see.


    ��Do you hear it? The music?�� The Tar-Khal asked, creating a wave of pressure in Dibbuks ears. She listened for the faint tune floating through the space around them.


    ��Yes, I like it.�� Dibbuk answered. The Tar-Khal huffed in approval.


    ��Good. Keep listening to it. Do you hear the bell?�� It asked, a singular claw emerging from the fog. It was pointed behind her.


    ��Yes, I don��t like it.�� Dibbuk answered coldly. It was a tinny, sharp sort of tone that pierced through the black water like a knife. The Tar-Khal huffed in approval again.


    ��Good. Follow it, and keep going no matter how long it takes. You��re going to need help. It will come.�� It said, shifting away from Dibbuk.


    ��Are you not coming?�� Dibbuk asked, sensing the massive bulk of the Tar-Khal was moving further and further away.


    ��I cannot. A living mind malfunctions when it is too close.�� It said, the words growing further away with each syllable.


    ��Then who��s going to help me?!�� Dibbuk shouted, gesturing futilely at the empty space stretching out around her.


    ��Help will come!�� The ancient Tar-Khal boomed. Dibbuk stood there in the darkness as the vibrations faded into the vast abyss around her.


    However reassuring the waterlogged words were meant to be, they weren��t. Dibbuk pointed herself in the direction of the bell. She waited a moment, hoping her eyes might adjust to the darkness. They didn��t.


    ��I don��t think this is going to turn out well.�� Dibbuk said, to absolutely nobody but herself. She took a step, and then another, and then another. Thus began her long journey to the center of the end. The end of all things.


    *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


    Limerick Meadows-Greigs strapped himself into the front seat of his greatest creation. He��d have preferred a bit more ceremony for the first flight of his baby, but things had become a little more urgent as of late. As things stood, he was watching two humans, a Tar-Khal, and a 12 foot tall talking mushroom secure themselves to his invention.


    ��Is everybody ready? No stopping once you say yes, so everyone put your helmets on now!�� Lemmy yelled over the sound of the singularity generator spinning up. He held his hand over the three button combination he would need to hit in sequence to initiate launch. Parker and Aldon nodded, their helmets properly fastened. Lemmy looked to the two much larger passengers.


    ��Remember everyone, stay on the boat if you can. I��m going to grab my sister and the rest of the team and get them on board. Everybody good with that?�� Harvel said over the roaring of the singularity generator. Having no problem with not jumping into an army of blood thirsty insects the rest of the team nodded in agreement.


    ��I think we��re good. Wait, Harvel, hold onto my shoulders. I might throw up if you squeeze my stomach.�� Yiddek affirmed, bracing his tablet against his chest. Harvel, who had wrapped several tendrils around various mooring positions, adjusted his grip and gave a thumbs up to Lemmy. He mirrored the gesture and turned back to the controls.


    He took a deep breath and engaged the magnetic field generator. It pulled in massive amounts of air as it produced a magnetic field nearly fifty times that of Liberums poles. The Trip boat began to float, or to be more precise, it stayed in the exact position it always had been, just with more science and fewer wooden struts.


    The boat was locked in above the magnetic cushion it was sitting on, blasts of cold air flowing out from under the hull. Lemmy took an even deeper breath and set the singularity engine to fire. This was the moment. The moment. The most important moment of his life.


    Lemmy pressed the button, and the intelligent species of Liberum became slightly less infinitesimally small in the known, and unknown, universe.

 Chapter 41: "Oh? No shit?"

    Dibbuk wandered, and wandered, and wandered further towards the bell. The piercing ring only made bearable by the intervals between. Up near the surface of the sea the bells had been ringing constantly, but the closer she had gotten to the bottom the less frequently they rang.


    She pushed forwards through the field of darkness, every step another laborious challenge. She had begun her journey as motivated as she ever had been for survival. Yet, with each step her motivations became less and less tangible. It felt like years had passed since she��d slept.


    She stopped, her feet sinking deeper into the ooze. Dibbuk pondered what it must be made of. The stuff at the bottom of the canals didn��t even compare. It had to be made up of the remains of millions upon millions of organisms. Yet, she hadn��t seen a single fish in her time down here.


    Dibbuk took another step. Then another, and another. She continued her journey to wherever she was going. Death, or life. Either would be a reprieve from this. The bell rang again.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Telio looked back at the weary and panicked team of wastewalkers behind him. They could no longer hear the thousands of legs thundering towards them, and had decided to take a two minute breather. Perhaps they had stopped to investigate their little rest area. It didn��t matter.


    What did matter were the two berg charges he was hastily fastening together with paracord, a zippo lighter, and two paper clips. He had planned to do this earlier, but things hadn��t gone to plan. While this wasn��t ideal, this also meant that things weren��t going to plan for Boris either, and that was the best Telio could ask for.


    He glanced at Selby. That wasn��t going to plan either�� yet. All of this time. All of these calculations and probabilities and he had still been wrong almost immediately. Good. He��d been right before and had sorely regretted it. But, that had been over three hundred years ago.


    He searched his mycelia for the memory. Whatever this stuff was, whatever he was, could store as much data as could be created, but it couldn��t keep it organized. If he wanted a memory, he might find that some of it was in his leg, and another piece was in his left index finger, and the rest of it in his right lung. If it weren��t for the fact that he could find and link them all together faster than humans could recall them naturally it would have been a real burden just to remember where his shoes were in the morning.


    The memory Telio wanted to find was currently being pulled from his left ass cheek and his left eye. It wasn��t a good memory. Pivotal to be sure, but a horrible night to remember. The night he had found that his business partner, and friend of nearly thirty years had truly become more of a monster than even he could have anticipated.


    Telio stepped through the memory, watching every second play out as if he were there again, and returned to reality in the blink of an eye. He began wrapping the paracord again and made a knot. He pushed the paperclips, fastened into a loop, through the fibers, then held the flame to the knot. The nylon melted quickly, forming a thin plastic shell around the tightly bound cord.


    ��Oy, Wicky. Come here for a sec.�� Telio grunted, gesturing towards the young wastewalker whilst checking his watch. The young man lumbered over, his full tanks swaying from side to side behind him.


    ��Don? What is it? The hell��s that?�� Wicksomme asked, hastily backing away from the improvised explosive bolas.


    ��It��s fine, look, just keep an eye on Selby. Keep your rifle at the ready.�� Don said, pointing to the man sweating and attempting to shake the intrusive thoughts from his head.


    ��What? Why? I mean he��s been a bit shit the whole night, but that��s not a reason to shoot him. I��m more worried about Mary.�� Wicksomme asked, eying his rifle. He��d never shot anyone before.


    ��Well, after that punch I don��t blame you, but keep an eye on Selby. You know why Team 6 didn��t come get Harvel when he got hurt? Same reason he��s been fucked up this whole night. There��s someone else swimming around in that dome of his, kid.�� Don answered, pointing around at orange mycelia poking through the walls.


    ��What? Someone like you? Why didn��t you say anything?�� Wicksomme asked, panic showing on his weary face. The young man began to sweat almost as profusely as Selby. Don shrugged.


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    ��Hoped he��d leave the poor boy alone if I didn��t make a scene. Wishful thinking I guess. Too wishful I��d say.�� Don answered, seemingly disappointed in himself.


    ��So, what? We just wait for him to get us killed or something? You don��t know how to stop it?�� Wicksomme asked, risking another glance back at Selby.


    ��Oh, there��s a cure. You��ve got it slung around your shoulder right now.�� Don answered, gesturing to the assault rifle Wicksomme was holding. Wicksomme looked down at the rifle again.


    ��And�� And what about Dibbuk? Obviously something��s wrong with her. You don��t plan on shooting her do you?�� Wicksomme asked, panic building. They were nearing the corner of the tunnel, he could feel it. If the plan was to shoot her they��d all be dead within minutes.


    ��Nah, Harvel will have to pull through for us on that. Gonna be another three or so minutes before we should roll up on her. Gotta time things right kid.�� Don answered, checking his watch. He tapped its face a few times. Wicksomme noticed there were nearly eight hands on the timepiece, and every other piece of it looked hand made. He began moving, prompting the rest of the team to follow suit.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Colors are an interesting concept. Infinite colors, spanning an infinite amount of time and space between each shade, are an even more interesting concept. And finding out that in between all of those infinite colors is the color purple is incredibly interesting indeed. Lemmy was having an interesting day.


    The color purple danced around him and the rest of the trip boats passengers, like wisps of smoke in the wind. Harvel held out his hand and let the formless shade flow around his fingers. He��d known this was what it was like. He��d seen it for merely an instant in a memory from eons ago. It was amazing to see it for himself.


    ��Wonder what it tastes like. Probably best not to find out.�� Aldon thought aloud. Nothing in his long, eventful life had been quite as strikingly beautiful yet eerily inviting. It was like the color called to him. He didn��t like that one bit.


    ��Provolone cheese, mint, and Bullrutters.�� Harvel answered, pulling his hand back into the boat.


    ��Sounds awful. Lemmy? How long until we make it to the other side? I want to make sure I��m ready.�� Parker asked, pulling her spare pistol from its holster and racked the slide. She shoved the sidearm back into the holster and tightened the straps on her harness. Something told her that their arrival was going to be significantly bumpier than their departure.


    ��We��ve got about twenty seconds.�� Lemmy answered, watching the coordinate dial move closer and closer to their chosen coordinates. Harvels head appeared next to Lemmys in an instant.


    ��When we get there, we��ll be right over my sister. I��m gonna jump ship real quick to get her but don��t slow down. The team is going to need you to keep going.�� Harvel explained, indicating which side he��d jump off of.


    Lemmy shrugged. He��d gone along with every other unexplained plan so far tonight. Now that he had achieved his life goal, Harvel could have told him they were going to fire him out of a cannon and he would have agreed just the same. Harvel turned back to Yiddek, busy carefully ducking strands of purple reaching for his headcrest.


    ��Yiddek, this thing has a ladder, but it wont reach low enough to get the team. I��ll need you to help them get on board. Can you do that for me?�� Harvel asked, positioning himself next to his brother. Yiddek took off his glasses and stowed them in his bag.


    ��Yes, I think I can do that. They have guns don��t they?�� Yiddek asked, remembering the horde of ants from their trip. He wasn��t keen to end up like all of the other wastewalkers he��d seen, but he was here, and who else was going to do it?


    ��Better.�� Harvel answered, bracing as the singularity drive roared back to life.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Telio checked his watch as the bend came into view. The sound of thundering legs had begun to catch up while he��d been putting together his little device. They had about a minute left until things kicked off. He palmed the device, testing the weight. His aim would have to be good.


    As the bend grew nearer a couple of clouds of dust shot out of the wall. The stone fell away, leaving a large hole where the corner had previously been. The little fucker was either bored or purposefully destroying their only means of cover.


    ��I don��t suggest we walk into that.�� Lier chimed in, pointing to the quickly crumbling stone work and his own entrails scattered about the tunnel. Don turned to him.


    ��Oh? No shit?�� Telio said, priming the berg charges. He checked his watch again. Only a few seconds left. Telio walked towards the crumbling corner, spinning the set of explosives rapidly around his knuckle.


    As he rounded the corner Telio took a barrage of silent metal to the chest. Mycelia splayed out behind the old man as the shards of red hot steel pulled more and more matter from his body. Unaffected by the onslaught, Telio squared up with the tunnel and aimed for the largest concentration of ants.


    He released the explosives, sending the pair of charges arcing through the fog and into the mass of legs and evil. Telio waved the rest of the team closer towards the bend, a stray shot plowing its way through his skull. The ancient man seemed off balance for a moment before his skull reformed into its previous shape.


    A purple glow began to fill the tunnel. The sound of atoms being wrenched apart created a deafening pressure that left the teams boots rooted to the muck. Selby began to sweat and wretch as the dimensional barriers broke away.


    ��It��s time! That��s our ride!�� Telio shouted, the purple light casting a sinister glow upon the strands of matter sprouting from his back.

 Chapter 42: "Curiosity? Is that really a purpose?"

    Dibbuk stared into the distance. She��d stopped stomping through the darkness for a moment. Not out of exhaustion, or fear, but curiosity. Something had happened. The bell had sped up. She felt waves of fear emanating from the rapidly growing pressure difference.


    No longer a monkey. Worse. Much worse�� New spore��


    A voice, crass, and vile, cut into Dibbuks mind. It felt like the eyes in the dark, yet somehow even less pleasant. If an animal could talk, she could only imagine it would sound half as wretched.


    Dibbuk took another few steps, a sort of concentrated patch of the dark coming into view. She took another step. She didn��t have to think about whether she could or not. She somehow felt the pull of curiosity stronger than her own need to survive. She may have wanted to live, but she needed to know.


    *   *   *  *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *


    As the trip boat pulled apart the strands of the universe, Lemmy pinned the throttle, pushing the boat to a screaming five miles per hour. The vessel shook as if it were re-entering Liberums atmosphere. For a moment before the bow of the boat broke through the portal the team could see the hundreds of warrior ants below them like a porthole into hell.


    The thing inside of Dibbuk turned, giving it just enough time to switch its expression from glorious purposeful hatred to abject fear. It made eye contact with Harvel for a moment. Before it could move to run, the bow of the boat pierced the portal and slammed into the nose it was borrowing.


    ��Keep going! We��ll catch up!�� Harvel yelled, releasing Yiddek and closing the gap between himself and the bow of the boat nearly instantaneously. He flew through the portal, the boat having only made it halfway through. He whipped himself over the side, keeping one hand clasped around its unused anchor.


    With unnatural speed Harvel shot towards the ground directly under the bow, landing on top of the now prone and flailing form of Dibbuk. The entity attempted to raise its massive bolter, seeking to fire on the trip boat above them. Harvel slammed his foot into Dibbuks wrist and pinned the hand along with the weapon.


    ��Don��t you even try�� Did you think I would forget?�� Harvel growled, clasping a spindly hand around the pale orange growth protruding from Dibbuks forehead. Those were the first words he��d spoken since the change that felt like they were truly his. Filled with all of the rage his mind could loose upon the evil little creature. The world began to go black.


    *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *


    Dibbuk drew closer to the concentrated darkness. The wretched little voice had been spewing obscenities for nearly an hour now. Dibbuk had initially thought the darkened patch was massive, but as she walked her perspective changed. Now, only a few feet away, it seemed almost miniscule. Curiosity still tugged at her mind.


    ��What are you?�� She whispered, letting the words fade into the stillness of the water. She took another step.


    ��An animal. Nothing more.�� She heard, suddenly feeling the presence of something next to her. Dibbuk looked over at the presence, seeing nothing with her eyes, yet feeling that the being was there none-the-less.


    ��And what are you?�� She asked, barely able to sense the size of the being.


    ��That��s a good question. I suppose I��m an animal too.�� The being answered. Dibbuk turned back to the origin of the little voice.


    ��Are you the help that big Tar-Khal told me about?�� Dibbuk asked, taking another step forward. She felt the being shrug its nonexistent shoulders.


    ��You might have to be more specific. Most Tar-Khal are big. I am here to help either way.�� The being answered, placing a hand on top of Dibbuks head and patting the top of her head crest. Dibbuk looked back up at the barely visible form.


    ��Sorry. I��ve always wanted to do that. I was never tall enough before. I have to say, for the first time since I was twelve I feel like a big brother.�� Harvel answered, letting his hand rest comfortably in the crook between Dibbuks annoyance laden brows.


    ��Harvel, I don��t know how you grew seven feet, but if you keep patting my head I��ll make you five eight again.�� Dibbuk stated, shaking off Harvels hand. She wasn��t in the mood for this, not tonight, or this week, or month, or year. Whichever it may have been down here in this endless sea, she wasn��t in a joking mood.


    ��I figured if I gave you shit you��d know it was me. That being said, what are you going to do about our little friend?�� Harvel asked, making the spirit version of finger guns towards the patch of concentrated darkness and expletives.


    ��What do you mean? I thought you were here to help me. Help me kill it or something.�� Dibbuk asked, gesturing towards all 12 feet of her brother standing next to her.


    ��No, no, no. I help after. I already did all of this. Right now you��re doing this part on your own.�� Harvel answered, gesturing for her to keep moving.


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    ��Well, did you have help?�� Dibbuk asked, sheepishly glancing at the darkness.


    ��I had Boris. You��ve met him. Only thing I have to say is this: think about why you��re here. Then, think about why you��re really here.�� Harvel said, giving his sister a slight push between the shoulders.


    Dibbuk looked back at her brother for a moment. That, all of that, hadn��t sounded quite right. It had made sense, just not coming out of Harvel. She remembered why she could be here. What the ancient Tar-Khal had said.


    ��Why are you allowed down here? I��m about to die, but you�� You just showed up, like you were already here.�� Dibbuk said, shooting her brother a confused, yet accusatory look. If Harvel could deflate, he would have. He��d been hoping to avoid confronting the topic until this was over. Then again, they had plenty of time this far down.


    ��We both thought this job would get us killed. I was just a little ahead of you.�� Harvel admitted.


    *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *


    In the tunnel the trip boat continued on its five mile per hour journey above the heads of the davisian ants. Parker and Aldon kept their pistols aimed down the pipe towards a line of ants advancing on the position of team 5. Occasionally one would look as if it were making headway towards the wastewalkers and one of the pair would lay down more fire until it was no longer a problem.


    Lemmy kept glancing back at the pair of oversized beings, stock still on top of a hillock of mycelia. Harvels arm was getting longer and longer as the boat pulled away from the siblings, and Lemmy couldn��t help but wonder if there was some sort of elasticity limit. As soon as he had laid his fears aside, Harvels arm became taught.


    The boat lurched at first, but kept moving after a moment. Lemmy looked back in horror to see that the two were being dragged through the mass of ants, slowly crushing the infernal insects as they steamrolled behind the boat. They left a wake of twitching legs and antennae behind them.


    ��I don��t think that��s a part of the plan!�� Lemmy yelled, catching Yiddeks attention.


    ��I don��t think there really is a plan! I think it��s all just supposed to happen, and we get to figure out why later!�� Yiddek answered, watching his siblings as he readied the rope ladder for the team. The line of crushed ants and gore the two had formed behind them began to fill in with still living ants. They seemed to be following Dibbuks body like some sort of idol. The only other ants moving were focused on the team, about fifty yards ahead of them.


    *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *


    ��So, just like that huh? You just, choked on your own goo, or whatever?�� Dibbuk asked, a little distant. She had been asking her brother questions about what had been going on for the last few hours. She had told him her side of the story but it was almost like he��d already known it.


    Dibbuk wasn��t sure she liked ��new�� Harvel all that much. He was a sort of overly wise know it all. She missed the old Harvel. He was starting to come off as condescending.


    Every time he talked it was as if he were imparting some sort of otherworldly knowledge. World shaking, reality shattering type stuff. Really he was telling her about how he��d destroyed a restaurant bathroom, made a beautiful woman vomit, and nearly caused Yiddek to shit himself.


    There were of course the world shattering bits, but those deserved the sense of grandeur. The parts about the infinite life among the cosmos was particularly to her liking in the revelation department. The parts about how he could taste floors probably deserved slightly less. At this point she was beginning to wonder if he was trying to irritate her.


    ��Oh! Good, you��ve noticed. I��ve been trying to get you to stop asking questions for about an hour now. Have you thought about why you��re really here?�� Harvel said, tapping on an imaginary watch on a non-corporeal wrist.


    Dibbuk stopped being angry for a moment. She had. She��d thought about why she was here since she��d started being here in the first place. All she had come up with was because she couldn��t leave well enough alone. She always had to do something, even when something didn��t need doing.


    Harvel hadn��t told her to get involved with the police, that was her choice. She hadn��t needed to move the boulder in the cave in, but she��d wanted to know if she could do it. She hadn��t needed to reach into the green ooze to see what the object was, but she��d wanted to know. She could have just stayed next to the shore of this pitch black sea, but she��d wanted to know what was down here.


    ��Exactly, curiosity. That compulsion to know what��s in the dark, even if it will kill you. You��ve always been like that underneath the anxiety.�� Harvel commented, pointing to the concentrated patch of darkness.


    ��It knows something. I know it too, but I can��t be the one to tell you. You have to find out for yourself Dibbuk.�� Harvel continued, patting his sister between the shoulders.


    ��If that��s why I��m down here, and how I��ll get out, how did you? What was your reason?�� Dibbuk asked, watching the spot like an animal in the dark. Harvel almost felt embarrassed. Then again, what was there to be embarrassed about now?


    ��Well, it was you, and Yiddek, and mum, and dad. I��ll be honest, I��d given up. I was there, just waiting to die. I��d accepted my fate, but when it started talking about you, about doing to you what it had done to me. That couldn��t happen.�� Harvel answered, pulling his hand back.


    The experience of dying slowly had revealed quite a bit to him about himself. He��d been too busy trying not to eat Parker at the time to really process it, but once he��d had time to digest things it had all become quite clear. He��d never really valued his own life. He��d tried not to die, of course, but he��d never done it because he felt like he had so much to live for.


    He��d done it because if he died then who would be Dibbuk and Yiddeks big brother? Who would look out for them? Who would stand between them and the rest of the world? He would, even if it meant giving up whomever he''d been before.


    It occurred to Harvel that without being their big brother he wasn��t anything at all. At least, there was nothing else he had ever wanted to be, not since he was seven. And as his lungs had filled with mycelia and the world had grown dark he��d understood. He didn��t care. The only thing that had mattered to him was making sure they were alright.


    He was lucky to have kept that piece of him when he��d woken up. He��d only been able to keep hold of two. One, his past and present, and the other his future. As things stood, one was certain, and the other woefully unlikely.


    ��But, that was my reason. What��s truly important now is yours. I can��t pull you out of here unless you want to pull yourself out, and that��s only going to happen once you take the next step. You don��t need to be afraid of your purpose Dibbuk. It��s yours. It''s always been with you up until now.�� Harvel continued. He gave his sister a final push between the shoulder blades and took a few steps back.


    ��But, what��s that supposed to mean? My purpose? Curiosity? Is that really a purpose? Is it supposed to be this unclear?�� Dibbuk asked, turning back to her brother. Harvel stayed silent. He was done giving her answers. Finding them on her own would be the only way forward.

 Chapter 43: "Can you give me back my violence?"

    Harvel watched Dibbuk disappear into the darkness. He knew he had to get her moving. He could feel his back crushing the carapace of an ant, the segmented plates burying themselves between the folds of his mycelia. They were making their way towards the team and time was coming up.


    Harvel sensed another presence. He looked up. The small amount of light he could sense coming down through the memories had disappeared completely.


    ��I figured I would see you again soon. You are the one who put us here.�� Harvel said, staring blankly at the hovering darkness.


    Oh now, don��t act all high and mighty now that you��ve got that fancy new body. It still has the bones of a worthless wastewalker inside of it.


    ��You can��t come all the way down. You��ve never actually confronted it. So much time, and you��ve never looked it in the eyes.�� Harvel stated, turning back to the spot his sister had disappeared through.


    Shut it. What would you know? Two weeks ago you couldn��t tell your left from your right without looking at your hands. I made you Harvel, I made you what you are.


    ��Good one. You tried to make me. The little bastard got to me first though. I was supposed to be your spore. Your puppet.�� Harvel said, sitting down and resting his elbows on his imaginary knees.


    The centipede got sidetracked. The further they get from me the harder it is to push them around. It must have gnawed on something it wasn��t supposed to. It doesn��t matter. The outcome will be the same. You��ll have to kill it to save your sister. Whatever is left of your pitiful personality will go with it, and you''ll do it willingly.


    Harvel nodded solemnly. He had to admit it did seem like it might be a route he��d have to go down. He��d run a lot of scenarios in the short time he��d had. Many of which ended exactly how Boris wanted them to. A few didn��t. He was banking on those. He''d just found the memory of his first time trying apple pie and it was a real high note. It''d be a shame to let it go now.


    You know how this will end. That body is mine.


    Harvel sat in the peace of the deep for a moment. Poison. What a lie. Maybe it was to Boris. Maybe to someone so fearful of death. Someone with nothing to die for.


    ��Do I know that? I don''t think I know that. I have faith. She��ll be fine. It��ll be fine.�� Harvel commented, a faint smile spreading across his face. He didn��t look up. He didn��t need to. He had faith in his sister. Whatever Boris had to say about that now didn��t matter.


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Dibbuk walked further towards the darkness. At this point the various memories and feelings that had flowed through her had long since faded away. It was quiet, save for the bell in front of her.


    The sound carried something else with it. Fear. She hadn��t felt anything in the ringing of the bell before. If she had, perhaps it was apathy. Now though, as she came ever closer to the source of the sound the fear inside of the tone grew.


    As the same horrid little organism that Harvel had coerced came into view the fear became nearly overwhelming. Dibbuk tried to cover her ears, but the sound wasn��t in the air. It was passing through her being entirely. A thought came to her.


    ��I won��t hurt you. I��m not the monkey.�� Dibbuk said, stopping seemingly a few feet from the mass of faces and fungi. The little mouths stopped frowning and looked dumbstruck


    All things hurt. The monkeys, the bugs, the stars. Why not the lizard?


    ��Because all I want is to go home. I��m tired. I think you��re tired too.�� Dibbuk said, almost to herself. She meant it. Revenge? Anger? She was done with it.


    That had all been Harvels schtick. His motivation. His purpose. Hers?


    I do not understand home. Does it hurt?


    ��No. It shouldn��t. Mine doesn��t.�� Dibbuk answered. She knelt next to the being her brother had called an evil little bastard, and saw it for what it was. Afraid. She reached down and moved to touch the thing. It recoiled.


    No! Pain! Monkeys! Bugs! Lizards! Pain! Leave!


    Dibbuk sat there, arm outstretched, and stared down the trembling mass of faces. The fear it was exuding felt like it might crush her, but she couldn��t bring herself to stop. She reached out and pressed the back of her claw to the top of its cap.


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    ��Everyone who you��ve ever met wanted to kill you, or use you. I don��t want either. I want to go home. I think you can feel that.�� Dibbuk said, sitting down next to the creature. It stared up at her, the faces contorting into all manner of confused and scared expressions.


    ��Has a lizard ever hurt you before?�� Dibbuk asked, a gentle wave of curiosity pushing her forwards. In a way she believed she knew the answer already. The little faces contorted into frowns.


    Yes. Before Lizards changed. Before I changed them.


    Dibbuks brain slowed. That�� That wasn��t the answer she believed she��d known. It hadn��t been a lie, at least as far as she could tell. Could it even lie?


    ��How did you change us? When was it?�� Dibbuk asked, her curiosity overruling her intent to bargain. She kept her claw steady.


    Before monkeys, before bugs. I took the violence. Can��t hurt anymore. Can��t hurt the monkeys.


    Dibbuk pondered the words. She didn��t quite understand. How could it take their violence? She understood the odd unsettling feeling she��d gotten when thinking about hurting a human or eating meat. She��d felt it her whole life, but she��d never thought about it as some outside force.


    ��Why? Why didn��t you want us to hurt the monkeys?�� She asked, keeping her breathing steady. She was both beginning to feel sick to her spirit equivalent of a stomach, and becoming more excited with each moment. Did anyone know this? Was she the first?


    All die. If fight. All die. I die. Starve. Never leave. Never go home. I saw it. Knew it.


    Dibbuk looked at the creature again. The little faces were almost blank, as if it had completely forgotten she were there. Its little sunken eyes stared wide out into the distance. The fear it had been crushing her under began to lessen.


    It occurred to Dibbuk that she herself didn��t want to die. She couldn��t blame the creature for being the same. There was no time for that now. It also occurred to her that her next question might very well be her last.


    ��Can you give me back my violence? I won��t use it to hurt you. I want the monkey gone. I want you to go home. I want to go home.�� Dibbuk asked, turning her claw over and placing her fingers between the creature''s faces. The creature wanted to be left alone, and she couldn��t help but feel for the wretched thing.


    Life, whatever version of it the creature was living, seemed to have shoveled shit in its face from the very beginning. She could relate in a way. She��d never been able to fight back against those that had hurt her, but at least she��d had a family. What did this thing have?


    The creature focused on her. Its many faces seemed to be searching for lies. Dibbuk didn��t have to lie. This was what she wanted.


    She��d found her purpose. To be curious enough to seek out the misunderstood, and be courageous enough to accept it for what it was. An animal lashing out at whatever might cause it harm after a lifetime of torture.


    * * * * * * * * *


    Wicksomme hunkered down onto one knee and pulled the secondary valve lever on his pesticide tank. The rest of the team laid down a wall of fire, all the while the Trip boat gracefully floated towards them at a leisurely five miles per hour. He frantically watched the advancing line of ants step over the two burg charges Don had thrown halfway down the pipe.


    Wait, Don? Telio? Which was it again? Wicksomme shook the confusion from his head, throwing the distracting thought as far from his brain as he could. The gauge on his gun read sufficient pressure and the young wastewalker got to his feet.


    ��Masks up! Chem out!�� Wicksomme shouted, pulling his own filtration mask up onto his face. The rest of the team hastily did the same, save for Don. If he��d had the time and mental bandwidth Wicksomme might have remembered Don once saying that he loved the smell of ant brain stems melting.


    He pulled back on the valve release and a stream of vile smelling opaque silver liquid sprayed across the tunnel in an arc. He started on one side and swept to the other, keeping the flow steady for an even coating. As the brain stems began sizzling a fog began to form around the first splotches of contact.


    As he prepared for a second round, Don grabbed the man and spun him around. He pointed down the tunnel they had come from. Even above the constant barrage of gunfire Wicksomme could feel the encroaching mass of insects. He slipped in the muck, slamming back down onto one knee. He doused the entirety of the pipe that he could see before the insects even came into sight.


    Before he had stopped spraying the fog started to billow from the tunnel. A mass of twitching legs and carapace formed just within Wicksommes vision. The ants from the rear were forcing the front of the line into the viscous, screaming, chittering mass of former ant warriors.


    As the Trip boat neared, Wicksomme switched frantically from spraying down the wall of encroaching ants, and keeping a coating of pesticide on the pipe they had come from. The boat was nearly above the teams position when the timers on Dons burg charges hit zero. Not far from the rear of the boat ants quickly became a monsoon of limbs, heads, abdomens and the like.


    An antennae shot out of the mass of viscera, threading the needle under Marys arm, and slamming directly into Wicksommes face. His mask slammed into his front teeth as it tore away and flew off into the darkness. His eyes blurry, and watering from the force of keeping them open, Wicksomme briefly understood why Don didn��t wear his mask. What a sickeningly sweet smell.


    ��Apple pie? Whuh?�� Wicksomme started to mumble, but the world had already begun to fade. One of his eyes wouldn��t stay open anymore. His mouth felt odd. Oddly warm.


    ��Shit! Don��t breathe it in! Keep laying down fire!�� Don yelled, pulling out the mask he��d never worn and forcing it onto Wicksommes head. He inspected the young man. Maybe he��d been wrong. A ladder dropped above his head, yet stopped far out of his reach. The team looked up in unison to see their half ton, lab coat wearing savior vault over the side of the vessel.

 Chapter 44: What is this feeling?

    Harvel waited. He could feel the heat of the blast on his back. They should be nearly stopped now. If his predictions were correct either Dibbuk should be getting back soon, or he��d be in for a longer night than he had expected. He began collapsing the cells in his arm, dragging the pair closer to the boat.


    Boris was long gone. He was probably off doing something horrible. He could check, but that wouldn��t matter at this point. Harvel looked up. He could still see some of the bells ringing out among the stars.


    If this was truly going to end tonight he might, at some point, no longer be able to see them. It was good to take them in now while he could. He��d been searching within himself to find where his memories had ended up.


    It was slow going. While he might find bits and pieces scattered about, he could never find whole memories. It was like one of those games where you turn over cards and try to make pairs, except there were trillions of cards and the pairs were a thousand a piece. He��d done a fair bit of work so far. He had about six full memories.


    Harvel knew he��d have plenty of time to put the rest back together. In time maybe he would get some of his original personality back. As it was, he was running a sort of emulation of Harvel Gillis. The free trial before he would get Harvel Pro+.


    He knew who he��d been to some degree. He was starting to put together more accurate speech patterns as time moved on, but it would probably never be the same. Then again, it didn��t have to. Bringing about change wasn��t always bad.


    Harvel registered a stirring in the deep. Dibbuk emerged from the darkness, her footsteps landing with furious intent. She stopped in front of her brother, still sitting in the layer of diatomaceous ooze. Harvel began to say something witty, but Dibbuks finger slamming into the front of his face put a damper on this attempt.


    ��I��ve wanted to do that for a while now, and I��ve always let you dodge. This time I did it with real force. Real violence. That��s what you get for beating the piss out of the damn mushroom.�� Dibbuk chided, crossing her arms in disapproval. This all could have been solved much faster if he hadn��t just done whatever Boris had said.


    ��Fair point. I certainly didn��t consider my options at the time. I will say, it doesn��t talk like it��s helpless.�� Harvel agreed, forming his head back into its proper shape. Her new definition of violence was excessively effective.


    ��I think it��s like mimicry. It knows that��s what humans do to scare other humans. I don��t even think it can fight. That might be why it took me over.�� Dibbuk speculated. She��d learned a lot from the fungi. Mostly new curse words in languages she nor anyone else would ever understand, but there had been little bits of useful info in between. She still didn��t know why it cursed so much. Perhaps human Harvel had left an impression.


    Harvel nodded. He��d felt the steel of pipes and bits of carapace cease their virtually endless assault on his flesh. The boat must have stopped. It was time for them to go.


    * * * * * * * * * * * *


    ��Quick! Don��t be alarmed, I am going to help you!�� Yiddek yelled, his voice booming over the top of the encapsulating sound of gunfire. Yiddek slammed down onto the pipe, one of his knees buckling with the force. He��d never been particularly athletic, mental gymnastics being his exercise of choice. The team gained their own footing after the shock wore off and all able bodied members began their onslaught again.


    ��No shit! Grab him! You��re gonna have to take him all the way up!�� Don yelled, lightly nudging the side of Wicksommes thigh as he continued to fire. Yiddek immediately began to inspect the young tank-bearers'' condition. He didn��t get far, as he had started at Wicksommes head. He gingerly pulled the wastewalker onto his shoulder and pulled himself up the side of the boat.


    ��Try to keep him awake!�� Yiddek boomed, lightly placing Wicksomme onto the deck and pulling Aldon away from the fight. Aldon tossed Parker his pistol and pulled out a small first aid kit. It wasn��t enough to fix him, not by a long shot, but he might be able to put the pieces back where they were supposed to be. Might.


    ��I dunno about all that! I might be able to keep him alive though!�� Aldon yelled, tending to the young wastewalkers head and jaw. He really didn��t know if there was much he could do. He��d try his best. He pulled Wicksomme up towards the bow of the boat to clear the way for the other members of the team, and began triage.


    Parker stayed near the rear of the trip boat, now firing both Aldons pistol and her own. She could swear that each shot found its mark, yet the damn things wouldn��t go down. She could fill an ants skull plate with rounds and still watch it pull itself down the pipe with a barely functioning limbic system. She couldn��t help but miss Doreen, her rifle.


    Yiddek dropped down into the pipe again, this time keeping himself upright. Don slapped Mary and Selby on the back of the shoulders, pulling their attention from the quickly reforming line of ants. The explosion may have slowed them down, but the torrent of horrid insects was far from stopping. Wicksommes previous coatings of pesticide were already losing their efficacy.


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    Yiddek grabbed Mary and Selby, holding them up to the ladder dangling above their heads. The two latched on and clambered up the ladder, Mary taking occasional shots between handholds. Lier continued to fire a few more rounds before letting Yiddek grab him as well. Don fired another few rounds before he instead grabbed onto Yiddeks back and insisted he jump back up to the deck.


    Yiddek confusedly obliged, launching himself upwards and landing unsteadily on the vessel. The wastewalkers took to the aft of the boat, continuing to fire down at the swarming ants. Lemmy prepared the singularity generator and pushed the throttle forwards. He input the navigational coordinates Harvel had given him and set the boat into motion.


    At least, he''d meant to. Instead of beginning their steady float towards the singularity he was creating, the vessel simply sat in place. He pushed the throttle again. He pushed another few times, each time the boat registering that it should be moving. He looked behind them. It was Harvel.


    The large fungal man had begun reeling himself in with his distended arm, still latched on tight to the side of the boat. Through the flames and corpses the two siblings shot out from behind the line of advancing insects and slid steadily towards the boat.


    ��Put your ass into it Lemmy! We might have to drag them through with us!�� Don shouted, addressing the genius inventor as if he��d known him his whole life. Lemmys brain paused to question what had just occurred but Lemmys instincts slapped his brain across the face and cursed at it.


    ��I don��t- I don��t think we ca-�� Lemmy started, but something had caught his eye. In fact, something had caught the eye of nearly every passenger on board. Darkness enveloped what little space stood between the deck of the boat and the ceiling.


    I��m putting an end to this farce.


    The voice slammed its way through the minds of every living creature within a five mile radius. Boris was done with his little game. He��d stacked the deck already, it was time to flip the table. As the pair of siblings drew closer a rumble started from above the heads of the team.


    It was now or never. Harvel had been consciously pulling Dibbuk and himself towards safety, but Dibbuk was still in the process of waking up. The deep wasn��t something you could just have a cup of coffee and start your day after. It took time for the brain to slow back down.


    Harvel began collapsing every available cell within his arm. He pulled them away from the ground, causing them to fly freely through the air. Harvel made momentary eye contact with Yiddek, who readied himself to catch them.


    Harvel released his sister from his grasp causing her to barrel full on into Yiddeks chest. The enormous bolter she had been carrying embedded itself into the deck, showering the team in splintered wood. All twelve feet of Harvel slammed into the side of the boat he had been attached to.


    With the added momentum the vessel shot forwards and began its journey, straight into the side of the pipe. Lemmy scrambled to fire the singularity engine. The strings of the universe pulled apart, each strand humming with the tension of reality unraveling. The bow of the boat slipped into the portal first, taking two members of the team into the previously unknown along with it.


    Between dimensions Wicksomme stared up at the morphing shades of purple and magenta. Aldon had paused his triage for a moment as he checked out the rest of the team for any fatal wounds and was still on the other side of the universe. Selby sat beside the young man, clutching at his chest between ragged breaths. Wicksomme shifted his weight to face the compromised scout. He wasn��t going to take his eyes off of the man for all he was worth.


    Harvel unstuck his face from the side of the vessel for just long enough to look up. The rumbling stopped�� for a moment. Then, like the finger of some ancient god a pillar of stone and mycelium slammed down through the darkness. It smashed the side of the boat pulling Harvel off and pinning him to the floor of the pipe. The trip boat violently listed to the side he had been latched to, the recently rescued team fighting to stay as such.


    Inside the space between Wicksomme and Selby both slammed into the railings on the starboard side of the vessel. Wicksommes strength nearly gave out as he pushed himself back onto the deck. He��d lost a lot of blood.


    Selby on the other hand had been flung over the side of the boat, and was barely hanging onto the railing by a single hand. For what good it might do, Wicksomme crawled as fast as he could and grabbed ahold of the scouts collar. He pulled and pulled but no matter the effort he could no longer find the strength.


    He stayed there, holding Selby''s collar as the man''s panicked eyes bored into him. Selby knew he didn��t have the strength. For a moment Wicksomme tried to apologize, but his mouth wouldn��t move. Aldon had wrapped nearly the entire bottom half of his face, leaving room only for his nostrils. Selby��s eyes flickered.


    Where before there had been fear, or panic, or sorrow now there was nothing. Then anger, burning anger of hundreds of years came over them. He smiled. Dread filled Wicksommes being, a chill reaching from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his fingers. What little blood he had left ran cold.


    ��Telio was wrong, you wouldn��t have lived anyway!�� Selby��s body growled. Wicksomme, for reasons he couldn��t explain, took an extremely deep breath. Selby��s hand gripped his collar and pulled. Wicksomme fought as best he could but his strength once again failed him. Boris pulled himself and Selby up, and in doing so yanked Wicksomme over the railing.


    As the young man flew into the unknown he caught one last glimpse of Selby. He��d pulled himself the rest of the way onto the railing, his face still contorted in rage. His eyes blinked back from white hot anger, to panic, fear, and confusion.


    ��What is this feeling?�� Wicksomme wondered. The purple tendrils that could pull and shape the fabric of reality wound their way around Wicksommes eyes, and face. He could feel them worming their way into the back of his suit, pulling the dense fibers apart like yarn. Something touched Lombards spine, and he lost consciousness for a final time.

 Chapter 45: "Hell live."

    Across the breach between dimensions the other passengers fought to keep themselves on board the interdimensional vessel, unaware of what had occurred merely feet away. Harvel struggled under the weight of what may have been miles of stone and fungus. It was about time for him to fulfill his own prophecy.


    On board the team hung from railings, seats, engine mounts and more. Parker had wrapped her arms around the bolter embedded in the deck, still gripping both pistols. Lemmy tried to coerce the engines forward yet Harvel was again acting as an anchor. He��d kept a firm grip on the hull of the boat through his meal of a thousand tons of stone.


    Harvel started to reverse the collapsing of his cells. Try as he might, he couldn��t escape the pillar and they were losing time. He��d run all of the predictions he could. It wasn��t a pleasant choice to make.


    Harvel began the expansion of his cells, pulling what energy he still had from his main body and pushing it into his arm. He��d need to right the boat and get the damn thing across the threshold before Boris could pin them too.


    As more and more of his energy worked its way down his arm he could feel what was left of his body compressing under the extreme weight. He��d have to keep going. He didn��t have a choice. He was no longer scared of death, for he knew what lay beyond. He continued pushing.


    Parker, whom at this point had pulled herself up and was standing on the bolter, realized what was happening. She could see the long orange rope-like appendage losing slack as the boat started to right itself. She braced herself as the ship leveled out and the rest of the team slammed onto the deck.


    ��Get this thing moving!�� Telio shouted at Lemmy, who was busy pushing all of the blood back into the left side of his body.


    ��What about Harvel?!�� Lemmy shouted, hand hovering above the throttle. He had gotten them all down here, and he��d intended to take them all back. Telio pushed Lemmy��s hand onto the throttle and shoved it forwards.


    ��No time. We wait for him, we all bite it.�� Telio stated, cold calculation in his eyes. He needed to get to Boris, no matter the cost. Even if he had to do it by himself.


    ��Hey! Why are we moving? Where��s my brother?!�� Yiddek yelled, shaking his sister awake. Dibbuk blinked, pulling her consciousness back from the dark corner it had been shoved into during her time in the sea. Her eyes immediately faded again as her brain hiccuped.


    By this point the ship had been nearly halfway engulfed in the portal between dimensions. Yiddek let his sister down onto the deck and quickly made his way towards the aft of the boat. He reached down and grabbed Harvels arm, pulling with all of his might. Harvel released his grip on the boat and used what little dexterity he had in the appendage to grab Yiddeks shoulder.


    Yiddek glanced behind him at the approaching portal. He didn��t have much time. He felt like he had just found his brother. Truly gotten to know him for the first time since they were kids. He shouldn''t be leaving him here like this.


    Keep going. I��ll catch up.


    Yiddek felt another hand on his shoulder. Parker had helped Dibbuk crawl back to them, placing their hands over his own. Then, before he, Dibbuk, or Parker could respond, Harvels hand pushed them backwards and through the rip in dimensions.


    What little Yiddek could see of his brother became a wall of indistinct purple light, the dimensional portal enveloping the rear end of the boat. The trio landed between the wastewalkers and slid along the deck. The push had been just enough.


    Across the dimensional boundary another pillar of stone slammed into the pipe, missing the rear end of the boat by a few millimeters as it disappeared into the space between dimensions. The ants stopped their swarm, and the darkness that had engulfed the ceiling dissipated. The single fungal appendage jutting out from under the first pillar went limp.


    * * * * * * * * * * *


    As Yiddek stared into the purple abyss that they had slipped into Aldon and the wastewalkers took stock. Everyone seemed to be fine, no missing limbs or bullet holes. Selby sat stock still, his arm hanging over the railing next to him. Aldon looked around for Wicksomme.


    ��Where��d he go? What happened? The fucked up one, where��d he go?�� Aldon asked, angrily grabbing Selby. The young man had still been in his care.


    ��I don- I don��t know. When the boat tipped he went over the railing���� Selby coughed, his breathing still heavy. Sweat practically poured from his pores. Aldon would have been more investigative, but he couldn��t tell if Selby was lying or just unwell. Then again, he wasn��t being paid for this, so he let the man down onto the deck.


    ��Hey the uh-�� Aldon looked at each of the wastewalkers, he didn��t know a single name. ��The uh, young one went overboard.�� Aldon finished, forming his own assessment of the teams general dynamics. Mary rubbed her jaw solemnly.


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    ��He what?�� Telio asked, not taking his eyes off of Selby. He quietly slipped the nearly empty magazine out of his rifle, and replaced it with a loaded one.


    ��Sweaty here says he went over when the boat tipped.�� Aldon answered, jabbing a thumb towards Selby. Selby tried not to make eye contact with the rest of the crew.


    ��That so?�� Telio murmured, keeping his rifle at the ready. He could just kick him off the side of the boat, but without an explanation he was pretty sure he��d be the next one to go. His little stunt with Lier hadn��t done him any favors.


    Near the back of the boat, Lemmy input the proper coordinates Harvel had given him. He had a general idea of where they would come out, but he didn��t like it. Why the top?


    Parker tried to console Yiddek, busy mourning his brother for the second time in a night. She could do what she could, but she had never been good with these things. She would have left it to Dibbuk, but her mind was still slowing down from her time under the fungi��s control.


    ��Everyone! Everyone, grab onto something, quick!�� Lemmy shouted, bracing himself against the helm. He hadn��t noticed the timestamp for the new coordinates. They had about twelve seconds.


    Telio quickly wrapped his arms around the closest railing, and pulled Lier and Mary along with him. He didn��t bother with Selby. As far as Telio was concerned Selby could save himself or not. Preferably not.


    Parker grabbed Dibbuk and threw her arm over the side of the railing. She hadn��t come all this way to lose the person they were supposed to save. Yiddek lethargically followed suit, barely hooking a claw into the railing by the time the singularity generator had spun up.


    The color purple shifted around them and they passed through the gate, and out of the space between dimensions. In an instant they were no longer floating through the warm fuzzy, and somewhat sinister atmosphere of the space between. The biting cold of the Boris-Valkan winter wrapped around them like an unwelcome wet blanket.


    Lemmy��s eyes grew wide. Wider than they had ever been. They weren��t going to land on top.


    ��Shit! Shit! Shitshitshitshitshitshit!�� He yelled, trying not to look over the side of the boat. All he would have seen were the tops of other, less affluent buildings beneath them. All he could do at this point was keep the helm steady as the bow of the boat slammed into the massive window at the end of Asha��s office.


    The trip boat crashed into the 113th floor of Meadows Tower, carrying nine souls shivering in the subzero temperatures. Asha watched as the boat traveled at approximately four miles per hour over the top of her former desk. The hull split the solid amalgamation of steel and technology in half and screeched along the floor.


    In what was most likely considered the slowest aeronautical collision in Boris-Valkan history, the trip boat plowed its way down the middle of the office and into the hallway. Its hyper-cooled superconductor hull coerced an ear splitting scream as it pulled all heat from every atom of floor that it touched. The boat began to spin.


    Asha stepped into the AV bay door, just in time to see a jet black AV pull into its assigned bay out of the corner of her eye. That would be Cerise. She readied her pistol.


    Lemmy shut the magnetic field generator down and held on for dear life. No longer being suspended on the strings of the universe the vessel''s weight added to their drag, slowing their death spin to a death wiggle. Dibbuk, Yiddek, Lemmy, Parker, Aldon, Telio, Lier, Mary, and Selby, held on for dear life as the boat slammed bow first into the elevator doors, jolting backwards with the rebounding momentum.


    As the dust began to clear Asha opened the bay doors and waited. She kept her eyes on the AV, and her gun on the hull of the boat. It was going to be one of them. She was pretty sure it would be Cerise. Asha glanced at the ruined elevator.


    ��Well, it wouldn��t have held them all anyway.�� Asha muttered, focusing her attention back on the AV bay. Cerise had fully docked, and would be either greeting her or shooting her at any moment.


    ��Asha! What the hell is going on?!�� Lemmy shouted angrily. He would have pointed, but he was too busy unbuckling his harness. Lemmy began helping as many of the other unfortunate passengers off of the boat as he could, still glaring at his wife.


    ��From here on out? I have no idea!�� She answered, smiling. For once she wasn��t sure what was going to happen. Perhaps this was what real excitement felt like. Asha had been intrigued or amused at most in every other moment of her life, but this? This must have been what excitement felt like.


    Dibbuk opened her eyes for the first time. She��d told them to open approximately four minutes ago, but they had only now answered. The rest of her nervous system began to sync back up to her brain, giving her the strength to stand.


    ��Dibbuk, let me have a look at you.�� Yiddek said, motioning her to get down off of the boat. She shook her head. She scratched at the spot the little orange growth had been. It wasn��t exactly gone, instead it had pulled back into her skull.


    ��I��m fine. We��ve got work to do.�� Dibbuk said, grabbing the bolter by its massive leather handle. She yanked the ancient weapon from its resting place and turned towards the AV bay. For some reason she couldn��t explain, she had never felt so rested, focused, or oddly hungry for fish.


    ��Well, what about Harvel?! We have to go back and get him!�� Yiddek yelled, frustration coating his words. Dibbuk let out a little chuckle as she turned the bolters crank start.


    ����He��ll live.�� Dibbuk answered, leveling the weapon at the jet black AV in the docking bay.


    * * * * * * * * * * * *


    Deep in the depths of the sewer, a withered arm jutted out from under a pillar of stone and fungus. The stone pillar shifted slightly. Under the obelisk life stirred on the atomic level.


    Under this city laid secrets the universe over. The fungus was just the beginning. He needed to go down. Deeper�� Deeper still.