《The ONI System》


 1.1

    A suffocating gloom was ever present in the city of Nox. Since its founding, the city had been bereft of sun, stars, or even sky. The only beacons keeping the darkness at bay were the meticulously arranged lamps laid out alongside the grid work of the city streets. Cold concrete roads stretched into the void in every direction, fencing in the looming towers that leaked wane light from the windows of occupied apartments. Higher and higher those lonely glimpses of light rose until they disappeared into the inky infinity above.


    Among the eighteen million souls that called Nox home were two young members of the laborer caste named Rathaniel Bright and Jared Kiline. The former was a tall, athletic man with close cropped dark hair and pale hazel eyes. The latter was a shorter man with a heavily muscled physique, brown eyes, and not a single hair on his shaved head. Neither man had ever set foot outside of Nox, having spent every moment of their lives swaddled in the suffocating embrace of their beloved city.


    Likewise, the other laborer milling about in the quiet street had never been outside the city walls. Men and women alike, dressed in thin gray shirts and rugged gray coveralls, waited to hear the next task their fair city had laid out for them. A palpable air of anxiety covered the crowd like an acrid fog while the laborers huddled together in the pale pools of light cast by the coldlamps lining the street.


    "I don''t see Ovid anywhere," Jared remarked in a conspiratorial rumble that drew the attention of half the people milling about on the street. "It''ll be the second shuffle he''s missed. The analysts say our ONI should run out of juice after a single deka. If it''s drained after 10 days, there''s no way it could still be running after more than thirty." The agitation in Jared''s baritone growl grew with each word.. "He could die, Rath. That dimwit could be starving to death. Right flickering now"


    After listening to Jared''s dire pronouncement, Rathaniel gave up his study  of the administration building to shift his hazel eyes toward his friend. His calloused hand clapped Jared on the shoulder while he offered , what he hoped, was a reassuring look.


    "Put a shade on it before someone important notices you, Jerry, " Rath admonished, though it was already too late to worry about people listening in. "I''m sure Ovie is fine. He could have gotten some sort of exemption. Or he could have gotten shuffled into the Peace Keepers. We would be the last ones to know if that happened."


    Rathaniel''s voice trailed off when he caught sight of movement at the top of the concrete stairs. A ripple went through the gathered crowd as the large double doors swung open on silent, well oiled, hinges. Craning his neck, Rath caught a glimpse of rust colored robes emerging from the entrance.


    "Don''t turn a light on and tell me it''s sunny," grumbled Jared, as he and Rath moved with the rest of the crowd to form a line. "Even if he shuffled into a Peace Keeper assignment we would still see him out of uniform. He wouldn''t completely disappear, Rathaniel. That''s not how it works and you know it."


    "Jer," Rath began, trying to divide his attention between the agitated man behind him and the Admins at the top of the stairs. "I know you''re worried. I am too. But right now I''m more concerned about the shuffle splitting us up again. Or sending me off to the sewers. Or both." As he spoke, the first laborer''s heavy boots hit the stairs in a series of rhythmic thumps. Moments later, while Rath''s hazel eyes looked on in rapt attention, the young woman presented her ONI bracer to one of the waiting administrators.


    The hum of conversation around the duo had increased to an anxious drone once the shuffle officially began. A steady stream of individuals mounted the stairs to address the administrators. Though the length of the interview varied from one person to the next, the outcome, so far, was always the same. Every interview ended with a new assignment and a recharged ONI. That outcome wasn''t always guaranteed. Though Rath had never seen it, the administration caste had the authority to levy punitive reprimands or even outright remand someone into custody.


    As, one by one, his fellow laborers finished their interviews and descended the steps to disappear into the greedy embrace of Sector E, Rath found himself idly dragging his left thumb over the smooth metal encircling his right wrist. What would happen if he didn''t recharge his ONI? No sooner did the question cross his mind than he dislodged it with a shake of his head. Jared was right. Anyone without a functioning ONI would face a death that would be neither quick, nor clean.


    "When was the last time you saw Ovie?," Rath asked, trying to keep his tone casual despite the stab of guilt he felt for being dismissive earlier. He was worried. Or, at least, mildly concerned. He wasn''t trying to be self absorbed. He was just finding it difficult to focus beyond the billowing red robes and reflective masks of the administrators. The sight sent a familiar stab of resentment slashing through his chest like jagged icicle sinking into his heart. Why did they get to stand at the top?


    Every member of the admin caste, from the lowest cleric all the way up to section chiefs, wore the same loose fitting polysynth robes. Red as freshly drawn blood, with a texture so fine that they looked wet, the robes covered every inch of an administrator''s body. Black gloves covered their hands and their faces were obscured by a smooth, reflective mask that completed the caste uniform. Rath had no way of knowing if these two had been in charge of his last shuffle or if he¡¯d never seen them before. Anonymity was the objective. It was a precept the admins shared with the political police. The Peace Keepers wore the same masks, but their uniforms eschewed robes in favor of a snuggly fitting ballistic fiber uniform colored in the blue hue of a deep bruise.


    Lost in thought, Rath almost missed Jared''s slow blink as his friend abandoned his meticulous inspection of the gray jumpsuit he wore. Clearly Jared had been distracted as well. The shorter man went so far as to physically gather his thoughts by scrubbing his shaved head with an open palm. "Uhm, Service Day before the last shuffle. He and I were both on street detail. I didn''t think anything about it at the time, but he seemed distracted." Jer''s lips pursed in consideration, matching the furrow of his dark eyebrows. The stocky laborer took his time choosing his words. The moment steeped in silence until he took a step forward to keep pace with the crowd. "Distracted isn''t quite right. Subdued is better. Yeah. Subdued. You know Ovie. He''d dance with a shadow and then brag to you about it. But there was none of that. He was quiet."


    "Ovie was quiet? ," Rath murmured, half to himself as he trudged forward to match the inexorable flow of the crowd. ¡®Quiet¡¯ was not the adjective he would use to describe his friend. Depending on his mood, and the company he was in, Rath¡¯s opinion would range from ¡®rambunctious¡¯ to ¡®pain in the ass.¡¯ Over the years Ovid¡¯s personality had worn on him, but Jared always seemed to shrug off Ovie¡¯s behavior in the name of friendship. Perhaps there was a deep life lesson buried in that thought, like an uncut gem locked inside a vein of limestone, but Rath had more important things to consider than his fading loyalty. "Its been at least three shuffles since I worked with him. We were in the mines together. Toward the end, he was snappish with the rest of the crew, but you know Ovid. He''s always had a mouth like a black toad."


    "I remember," Rath continued, a distant look in his pale hazel eyes as he looked up into the infinite darkness above, "he traded every assignment away for digger duty. It was bizarre. Even when he drew a sorting job or a shift as a trax driver, he swapped out of it to go back into the caves with a helmet and a pick. The man is not shiny.¡±


    "No one has ever accused you of being bright as a Helios tower either, Rath," Jared said, a withering scowl scrawled across his lips. "Ovid and Mary have been with us since the Dorms. I guess Marco''s alright, and Krista, but we need to look out for each other. Nobody else is going to."


    While they spoke, the steady march forward was coming to a close for the two friends. By now, there were only three people standing between Rath and the administrators. He could hear the admins'' distorted voices and the buzz of their quantum charger as it renewed the workers¡¯ ONI system. It was the same routine he¡¯d gone through countless times since he¡¯d graduated from the Dormitory. Yet no matter how many times he experienced it, he couldn¡¯t help the tingle of unease that crept into his mind when he stepped up in front of the red robed figure. Like an ice cube slithering down his spine, Rathaniel¡¯s anxiety was a visceral thing. The creeping dread he felt blossomed into a shiver when he looked into the admins mask only to see his own face reflected back at him. Despite being significantly taller, and bulkier, than the robed pair, some part of him ached to flee from their attention. Another part yearned to release the feral snarl buried in his throat and lash out like a caged animal. Ignoring both his base impulses, Rath took a steadying breath and held out his right arm to offer them his gleaming ONI bracer for diagnosis.


    Without a word, the robed figure at Rathaniel¡¯s right lifted a square datapad. In a well-practiced gesture the admin waved it over the offered bracer until it rang with a high-pitched chime. A heartbeat later, lights bloomed to life across the length of his bracer. Rath lacked the technical expertise to interpret the display of red, green, and yellow lights now dotting the silvery metal in an esoteric pattern. He did, however, take solace in the familiar glow of an arrangement that matched those he recognized from previous shuffles.


    ¡°Rathaniel Bright. Citizen 27-4C058F-03.¡± The admin¡¯s voice had a monotone echo that lacked both inflection and emotion. The eerie voice would be less disturbing if he could see the speaker¡¯s face instead of staring into the reflection of his own hazel eyes.


    ¡°Do you have any anomalies to report concerning the work, relations, or morale of your fellow citizens during the last shuffle?,¡± the droning voice continued, its ethereal quality lending weight to the rumors that the admins, dubbed ¡®Blankets¡¯ by the lower castes, were actually automatons pretending to be human. ¡°It is my duty as a representative of Nox to remind you that the nanites of your ONI have recorded every part of your life since your last shuffle. Failure to disclose information regarding threats to our homeland could lead to nanite review and potential reprimand.¡±


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    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen anything unusual,¡± Rathaniel said, forcing his thin, parched, lips into a disarming smile. Or, rather, his attempt at disarming. The oppressive silence that fell over the trio at the top of the stairs led Rath to believe that the gesture had failed spectacularly. No surprise considering subterfuge was not his strong suit. The resentment and anxiety churning through his mind likely made him even less convincing than usual.


    For a moment the anger he felt boiled away his sense of trepidation. Heat flashed through him like the sudden, bright ignition of white phosphorus. Rath loathed the fact that every member of the lower castes lived in fear. What adult his age wouldn¡¯t be terrified of the administrators? Or the Peace Keepers? He¡¯d only known a handful of people that had been reported for rules infractions. Of those, all of them had been guilty of unlicensed fraternization, except one man who had been trading ration cubes for craft supplies. In the end, the crime itself didn¡¯t seem to matter. Every single one of those citizens had disappeared into Nox''s endless night.


    Unaware, or uncaring, of Rath¡¯s emotional instability, the administrator continued the interrogation after studying their datapad. ¡°In the last deka have you neglected your work detail due to absence, inattention, ignorance, or malice?¡±


    Rathaniel found it harder and harder to stare at his own reflection. ¡°No,¡± he said, letting his eyes drift away from the admin¡¯s mask to study the heavy double doors a few meters away. Like the rest of the building, there were no embellishments or decorations. Simple, brutal efficiency was the only architectural style in Nox. It made the already imposing portal appear more like the gates of a military fortress than the threshold of a bureaucratic office.


    ¡°In the last deka, have you imbibed more than your allotted rations and/or given any of your rations to another citizen for any reason?¡± The droning echo of his voice falling into the precise rhythm of a well practiced speech.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°In the last deka, have you printed any messages not licensed and recognized as legitimate by the state?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rath said, his smile now showing too many teeth to be genuine.


    ¡°Have you caused a citizen physical harm through an act of violence or incompetence that was not reported to a Peace Keeper for adjudication?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°In the last deka, have you participated in sexual contact without administrative approval?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rath said, doing his best to ignore Jared''s sudden bark of laughter. Somehow the bald man made it worse by trying to cover his amusement with a series of dry coughs.


    Ignoring the byplay, the admin''s modulated voice continued, ¡°At any point in the last deka, including this interview, have you lied to an administrator or Peace Keeper through intention or omission?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    With each question it became more and more difficult for Rath to keep the mental strain from his voice. Fortunately, the routine interview seemed to draw to a close before he lost his composure. With their head tilted, the administrator seemed to study Rathaniel¡¯s bracer for a handful of hammering heartbeats before acknowledging his partner with a satisfied nod. Only then did the red robed figure to Rath¡¯s left lift the seamless cylinder baton in their hand. This time a trio of baritone chimes trilled through the air and all the lights on his ONI winked out. The response of his bracer sent a tingling shiver that rushing down his arm before cascading through his entire body. A tidal wave of discomfort and euphoria crashed through him, drowning out every other thought and sensation he felt. It only lasted a split second, but the crush of tainted bliss from the organic nanites within him always left Rath struggling for breath in the wake of a recharge.


    After a moment spent studying Rathaniel''s reaction, the admin holding the charger said, ¡°Your next assignment is in mining sector C, shaft 48. You will report for duties tomorrow, no later than the first work period.¡± When the second administrator began to speak Rath shoved aside the lingering vertigo of charge sickness. Their voice was the exact same modulated tone of their partner and had Rathaniel not seen the tilt of their head as they spoke, he¡¯d have been unaware of which one was addressing him.


    ¡°May the beacon guide you, citizens,¡± Rath said, already feeling a measure of relief warm his clammy skin. With no reason to linger he pivoted on one heel to descend the stairs and make room for Jared.


    ¡°When was the last time you had contact with Citizen 24-4C188H-19?, Ovid Brakeman?,¡± the second admin said, seemingly as an afterthought, before Rathaniel could turn away.


    While their voice held the same mechanized monotone as every other word from the admins, Rath was certain he detected an edge to the tone that had been absent till now. A different kind of vertigo swept through him as his escape halted before it¡¯d even begun. Struggling to grasp the implications of that question, his mind spun from one thought to the other like the needle of a compass placed too close to a magnet. Did Ovie end up in state custody? Did someone else report seeing him in Ovid¡¯s company in the past? Why would the state care about investigating his flickering idiot friend anyway?


    ¡°More than three shuffles ago, administrators,¡± Rath spoke with a casual confidence that he didn¡¯t feel. It took all his restraint to avoid casting a glance over his shoulder to see what Jared¡¯s reaction was to this line of questioning. Thankfully, his friend hadn¡¯t broken rank and ran to the nearest alley. Not yet, at least.


    ¡°Do you know where Laborer Brakeman is now? Or do you know anyone who does? I am required to remind you that suspicion of falsehood is grounds for nanite decompiling.¡± Their body language was relaxed while they spoke, but Rath had no doubt their attention was entirely focused on him.


    ¡°I do not know where Laborer Brakeman is, administrators.¡± After a split second of consideration, his instinct told him to keep his answer as simple and concise as possible. He didn¡¯t have anything to hide. Trying to elaborate seemed like a gateway to an even longer conversation that he would much prefer to avoid..


    ¡°Very well, Rathaniel Bright. The city state of Nox has issued a yellow alert for Ovid Brakeman. If you obtain information of his whereabouts you are required, by law, to report that information to the nearest Administration office. You may go, citizen.¡±


    The pronouncement sent a knot of icy dread to twisting through the pit of his stomach. Rath was so stunned that he began to speak up in his friend¡¯s defense before his better judgment snapped his rebellious mouth shut. He couldn¡¯t help anyone if he ended the day in the custody of the political police.


    As abruptly as he¡¯d garnered their attention, the mirrored masks disregarded him as inconsequential. The sudden release left Rath reeling like a graduate, after throwing back their first mug of mushtein.


    ¡°May the beacon guide you, ¡° he managed to murmur before turning, for a second time, to descend the concrete stairs.


    Once his back was to the robed duo, Rathaniel¡¯s hazel eyes desperately sought to catch Jared¡¯s gaze. But his friend had eyes only for the two administrators at the top of the stairs. The sight brought an inaudible curse to Rath¡¯s lips as the distance between them grew by one step, after another, after another. What could he do? One scenario after another played itself out in his mind, each one discarded almost as quickly as it had been imagined. A better question was whether or not he actually needed to do anything at all? Jer hadn¡¯t told him anything incriminating and he didn¡¯t know where Ovie was. Assuming he was honest, that should keep him out of custody. Jared would be fine.


    Try as he might, Rath couldn¡¯t convince himself that it would be that simple. There was something about the resigned look on his friend¡¯s face as they passed one another on the steps that caused him to grit his teeth in frustration. It had to be a mistake. Some sort of misunderstanding. Jared was a good man and a model citizen. He¡¯d never had a single minor reprimand and was always the first to arrive for Service Day and the last to leave. The state wouldn¡¯t punish an upstanding worker with a flimsy justification like guilt by association.


    His mind churning, Rathaniel nearly stumbled when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Expecting another step, his heavy boot hit the street instead, causing him to lurch forward to avoid ending up in a sprawl across the pavement. It was then, after recovering from his clumsiness, that he noticed that a brittle silence had replaced the low murmur of conversation. A glance at the remaining line of laborers sent his hazel eyes flickering over a crowd who¡¯s every face looked toward the top of the stairs. With a myriad of expressions, ranging from rapt interest to abject horror, the men and women wearing grey coveralls watched the drama unfold.


    Rathaniel stopped, his eyes drifting from the crowd to the street in front of him that stretched onward as far as he could see. All he had to do was keep walking. One step at a time and he could disappear into the welcoming embrace of the darkness cloaking his city. In six short blocks he could catch a tram and return to his apartment in less time than he¡¯d spent attending the shuffle. He could spend the rest of the evening tinkering with solder and circuitry, retire to his hammock, and report to shaft 48 in the morning like a proper citizen of Nox. Life, as he¡¯d always known it, would go on. All that future would cost him was a few steps to walk away and the knowledge that he¡¯d abandoned one of the only friends he¡¯d ever known.


    He couldn¡¯t do it. Curiosity made him stop. Loyalty forced him to turn toward his friend. And his own seething anger at the unfairness of the world made him watch. There was a rage beginning to bloom in his heart like the first sparks of a forge being ignited. Rath''s hazel eyes sough a target for that blistering heat. What he saw made his calloused hands clench into fists of unbridled rage. Quivering like a roughly plucked guitar string, he made no move to ascend the steps, but neither did he run away. Standing stock still, his hazel eyes watched the proceedings with an intensity that would etch the moment in his memory forever. His friend deserved as much.


    The doors at the top of the stairs were already yawning open by the time Rath had turned. Two masked figures, dressed in the midnight blue uniforms of the Peace Keepers emerged, briskly moving to flank Jared. The laborer made no attempt to resist when the political police took hold of his arms and began leading him past the robed administrators. There was no stirring speech, no angry shouts, no rioting crowd. From the base of the steps where Rathaniel stood all the way to the doorway his friend vanished into, nary a word disturbed the shroud of silence that had been cast over the crowd. It was only after the doors closed with an audible thud that one of the administrator motioned to the next laborer in line. With the eagerness of a mouse offered a reprieve from a looming snake, the older man waiting in line moved forward and presented his ONI. In the blink of an eye, the world moved on.


    Rathaniel stared at the doors where his friend had vanished for several long, uncomfortable moments. His hands clenched so hard that he could feel his fingernails biting into his palms. Rath''s ears rang with the staccato rhythm of his heartbeat and the ragged sound of his breathing. His boiling rage was so incandescent that he imagined his ONI actually growing hot against his skin, like metal during a smelting.


    It wasn¡¯t until one of the admins tipped their head down to cast their mirrored gaze toward Rath that he finally turned away to stalk down the empty street. He was, after all, no more than a member of the labor caste. He had as much chance of changing his city as a pebble did of altering the course of a raging river. That indisputable fact did nothing to sate the seething flames scorching his psyche. Instead, he began to fixate on one idea, one goal that served as a balm to his singed soul.


    If he couldn''t change the system, the next best thing would be to burn it all down.

 1.2

    The cold concrete veins of Nox were alive with the steady flow of citizens bustling about their business. After all, work alone could not support life within the great cavern of Magna Spelunca. While roughly half the city¡¯s millions toiled away at the tasks assigned by the administrative caste, the remaining citizens were free to pursue their personal passions and hobbies. That is, until the current fifteen hour period comes to an end. Then all the people flowing through the streets would report to their job sites to relieve their compatriots. The pattern repeated like clockwork, twice a day, 20 times a deka, 60 times a mensis, 600 times a cycle.


    The exception would be those in situations like Rathaniel Bright. Every fifth day was a work holiday, alternating between Service Day and Recreational Day. Rec Day was a complete thirty hour period for citizens to pursue social commitments or individual interests. Service Day was devoted to the general maintenance and upkeep of the city and, once a mensis, recharging a citizen''s organic nanite interface during the shuffle into a new work assignment. In theory, the administrative caste shifted and staggered the schedules in such a way that the citizens of Nox were churned into groups with new and unfamiliar faces. In practice, members of the same caste, in the same sector, were far more likely to be shuffled into the same work detail.


    Contrary to his concerns before the shuffle, Rathaniel found himself preoccupied not with who he might share his next assignment with, but rather who would be absent. His trip down the empty street outside Administration Building C had done little by way of calming his agitation or soothing the anger burning in the pit of his gut. The most frustrating element of all was the lack of a true target for his ire. It felt like his focus changed with every foot fall, unable to decide if he should be more angry at Ovid, Jared, or the Administrators themselves. In a way, he was the most angry with himself for standing by and doing nothing in the face of an uncaring and inexorable justice system.


    Lost in thought, he barely noticed as the solitude of the tertiary street he traveled gave way to the ever increasing crowd of a major thoroughfare. While Rath wrestled with the realities of life in Nox, off duty citizens, dressed in solid white jumpsuit, began to populate the street around him. As the foot traffic increased, so too did the variety among pedestrians increase as well. Though the people of Nox had been locked in the city¡¯s protective embrace for generations, there were still signs of their diverse lineage. Blonde, black, brown, and auburn hair, no longer than shoulder length, splashed color across a canvas of bland concrete. Likewise, the bodies beneath the jumpsuits ranged from ebony to ivory and every shade between. Rathaniel had heard rumors that the Imperium had tried to remove different skin tone and hair color from the population generations ago through the application of selective breeding. The failure of that program had sent the city teetering on the edge of collapse. Only the destruction of something called the clergy caste had saved the city. Growing up in the Dormitory, Rath had dismissed those stories as seditious fiction. It sounded like exactly the sort of thing the law against unlicensed print protected the citizens from. In the years since his graduation, especially in the face of what he¡¯d witnessed today, Rath found himself wondering if the laws weren¡¯t so much intended to protect as they were to control.


    Now, several blocks away from the admin building, Rathaniel was little more than a face in the crowd. For the first time, his hazel eyes swept across people in uniform on their trek to or from the tram station ahead. Most wore the same gray coveralls he did. A succinct reminder that the labor caste was, by far, the largest in the city. But that didn¡¯t mean the other castes were completely unrepresented. Sprinkled through the press of humanity were people dressed as he was except in the green of an analyst uniform instead of laborer gray. Rarer still, he saw two administrators dressed in their unmistakable red robes. That sight almost undid the work of his sojourn and sent his thoughts spiraling back into a seething pit of frustration.


    Unexpectedly, the sound of his name rising above the muted roar around him snapped Rathaniel out of his vengeful thoughts. The grim line of his lips softened into a tired smile when he recognized the voice shouting his name from across the street. With a thought he bottled up the swirling anger inside himself and turned toward the welcome sight of an approaching friend.


    ¡°Rath! Oh for the love of the light, Rath!,¡± shouted a dark haired young woman, all but dragging a man through the street who was even taller than Rathaniel. Mary Devereaux had her chocolate brown eyes fixed on Rath like a cat preparing to pounce on a particularly plump rat. Heedless of the crowd, the young woman tugged insistently at Marco¡¯s much larger hand while she wove through the throng toward her target. For his part, the blonde man behind her projected a defeated look that appeared to be depressingly well practiced.. The big man glanced Rathaniel¡¯s way, but spent the bulk of his time murmuring apologies to the irritated folks Mary shoved out of her path. ¡°Rath! I¡¯ve been shouting at you for two blocks! Two!¡±


    ¡°I haven''t been ignoring you, Mary,¡± Rath answered, stepping toward the corner of a nearby store to remove himself, and the advancing duo, from the steady stream of foot traffic heading toward the tram terminal.


    ¡°Then you''ve gotten deaf in your old age. This time next cycle they''ll be shipping you off to an outpost with all the other codgers.¡± Mary replied, giving him a flat look before finally releasing Marco¡¯s hand to toss her arms into the air in disgust. Peering up at him, she continued in a more conversational tone, ¡°What are you even doing out here in your uniform?¡±


    ¡°His shuffle was today, Mary,¡± said Marco, preempting Rathaniel¡¯s response in the lowest baritone voice that Rathaniel had ever heard. Marco Fennel had a voice like the sound of a demolition blast rushing up an empty mine shaft. The blonde man continued, ¡°You and Krista were hoping they¡¯d get shuffled to hydroponics so we could be on the same assignment. It¡¯s been four mensis since we¡¯ve all worked together at the same place.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right!,¡± Mary said, glancing back at Marco before punctuating her words with a snap of her nimble fingers. When she turned back to Rath, a vibrant smile had blossomed across her lips to match the expectant shimmer of her brown eyes. ¡°Where did you and Jerry end up?¡±


    The anticipation written across his old friend¡¯s beautiful face sent an icy shard of anxiety sliding straight into his heart. In that moment she looked like the giddy, over-excited child he and Jared had met at the Dormitory nearly twenty cycles ago. The three of them had met Ovid a few of mensis later and had been virtually inseparable until their graduation. Marco, Krista, and the rest had joined them in the cycles since graduation, but Rath couldn¡¯t resist thinking of them differently. The three friend¡¯s he¡¯d shared so much with while growing up held a special place in his heart.


    By their reactions, Mary and Marco must have caught a glimpse of the inner anguish written across his face. Somehow that made Rathaniel feel even worse. His friends had been enjoying their Rec time and now he was forcing them to carry a portion of the frustration that was his burden to bear. He was the one who¡¯d stood by and watched Jared disappear into Keeper custody. Some part of him had known he would have to share this story with the people close to Jared. But standing there, looking into Mary''s molten brown eyes, he couldn¡¯t find the words to convey what took place. Only then did he realize he¡¯d spent the entire trip back wallowing in his own self pity. All his thinking had been about how Jer¡¯s absence affected him when he should have been focusing on what he could do to affect Jared. Honest as it was, the acknowledgment made him feel queasy and sick to his stomach.


    Sensing Rathaniel¡¯s growing distress, Mary stepped forward and began to speak. Before she could speak, Marco¡¯s heavy hand took hold of her slim shoulders with a firm squeeze. ¡°Where is Jared?,¡± the blonde man murmured, leaving Rath thankful for his friend¡¯s gift for being direct.


    ¡°They took him.¡± Rath¡¯s answer was as concise as Jared¡¯s question. Mary¡¯s quiet gasp broke his heart, but he forced himself to continue, his voice growing more confident with each word.. ¡°There was¡­it was something to do with Ovid. Whatever he did, it was enough to issue a yellow alert.¡± He drew in a rattling breath then, finally lifting his hazel eyes from their study of the sidewalk to look first toward Mary¡¯s supportive gaze and then toward Marco¡¯s steady one. ¡°They asked me about him, but I hadn¡¯t seen him in more three shuffles. Jared had seen him a mensis ago. I guess that was recent enough for them to take him into cu¡­custody.¡±


    His voice cracked at the end despite his best efforts. The sound sent Mary lunging out of Marco¡¯s grip to wrap her slender arms around Rath¡¯s toned frame. With her cheek nestled against the broad expanse of his chest, his coveralls muffled what would have otherwise been an aggrieved shout. ¡°They can¡¯t take him. They can¡¯t. Jer¡¯s a good person. A perfect citizen! Perfect!¡± Now her voice wavered, like the first hesitant notes of a songbird after a predator prowled past its nest. With a sniffle, Mary shifted, wiping her face on the synthcloth of Rath¡¯s gray undershirt. When she spoke again, her voice was a quiet, delicate thing, ¡°We have to do something. We have to get him back.¡±


    Swept away by the tide of emotion, Rath tossed a helpless look toward his friend. He appreciated Mary¡¯s support, but it was too much. He was too raw. He refused to break down here on the side of the street but he knew if he felt Mary sniffling against his chest any longer it would end with tears in his eyes. Marco gave a silent nod of understanding and moved forward to guide his paramour away from Rath and into his waiting embrace. The trio stood in silence, the two men sharing a grim look, while Mary drew in a shuddering breath to pull herself back together.


    Marco, waiting until Mary had finished dabbing her eyes, spoke in a low, insistent voice, ¡°We need to go home. We¡¯ll take the tram back to building four and then check on Krista. If she¡¯s home, we¡¯ll talk there. If she¡¯s out, we¡¯ll go to one of our places instead. But we need to move. We can¡¯t have this conversation here.¡± Marco pointedly swept his gaze around to the mass of people flowing past the alley they¡¯d ducked into. It could be awkward for an analyst or laborer to overhear criticisms of the Imperium. Being overheard by a passing Blanket or a Keeper would be far, far worse.


    Rathaniel hated himself a bit for allowing Marco to step in and take charge. Even if he needed someone to do exactly that. His mind had been an jumbled mess ever since the disastrous shuffle. Rath''s tangled thoughts had been soaked in irrepressible guilt and melted together by the heat of barely restrained rage. He needed a chance to untangle them and the kind of clarity that only time could provide.


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    Which is why he forced himself to offer his friend a strained smile when he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m right behind you.¡± With the speed of a striking snake, Mary¡¯s left hand snatched Rath¡¯s right hand so quickly he almost recoiled in shock. As if sensing this, her slender fingers tightened against his, all without moving from where she nestled into Marco¡¯s arm. Deciding that it wasn¡¯t worth a fight that he''d lose, Rathaniel let Mary guide him down the street. Rath felt like a child toddling down the Dormitory halls behind an overprotective magister.


    ¡°Have you eaten?,¡± Marco asked, remaining focused on progressing through this crisis one step at a time.


    ¡°No. You said we¡¯d eat after we walked through Cedar Park,¡± Mary replied. Any doubt concerning the young lady¡¯s displeasure was dispelled when she leaned back and looked up into Marco¡¯s chiseled features with a look of utter disdain. ¡°Remember?,¡± she asked, emphasizing the veiled threat in her tone.


    Nonplussed, Marco never broke stride as he casually deflected her menacing stare. ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking to you, darling.¡±


    Mary, at least, had the grace to appear chastised. In a display of pique that Rath felt was out of place for her, she turned her head in a practiced motion that tossed the dark ringlets of her hair..


    ¡°Of course Ratty hasn¡¯t eaten yet. Nobody eats until after a shuffle,¡± the young woman said. After her pronouncement, Mary continued to watch Rath¡¯s expression with a challenging gleam to her brown eyes, as if daring him to deny her wisdom.


    ¡°How many times? How many times have I told you that ¡®Ratty¡¯ is not my name?,¡± Rathaniel whined, his voice laced with cycles worth of accumulated grief . ¡°I don¡¯t want to bother with an actual meal. I¡¯ll grab a nutrient cube when we get to the lobby.¡±


    ¡°Then we will too,¡± Marco replied, ignoring Mary¡¯s sputtering sounds of protest. With purposeful steps he led the trio through the crowd toward the tram terminal in the distance.


    The debate concerning the greatest marvels of Nox was both ongoing among its citizens and fiercely contested. Many cited the five Helios towers as the city¡¯s greatest collective achievement. Others insisted that the ingenuity in creating the four verdant parks was an unparalleled accomplishment. There was always a great deal of personal bias involved, no matter who was speaking or which wonder they championed. Rathaniel himself had always been a proponent of the aqueduct that kept the city and those within it from succumbing to unquenchable thirst. Immediately below, on his own personal ranking, Rath would have listed the tram system.


    As he and his two friends approached the nearest terminal, Rath was, once again, mesmerized by the gleaming silver snake that stretched down the street in both directions as far as the eye could see. There was no true beginning or end to the series of connected cars. Rather it was one long, uninterrupted conveyance. The civil engineering feat it had taken to devise an endless route through the city was only matched by the wizardry of mechanical engineering needed to keep the tram running without interruption.


    As if sensing Rathaniel¡¯s invasive study, the sliding doors arrayed across the near side of the tram closed. Green lights dotting the terminal platform shifted to an eye searing red as the trio ascended the short flight of steps to take their place in line. A familiar hum, like a bumbling bee drifting too close to your ear, filled the air as the magnetic propulsion engaged. A heartbeat later, the endless stream of cars shot forward in silence save for the audible whoosh of displaced air.


    ¡°It makes my teeth hurt, ¡° Mary complained, rubbing her cheek with the heel of her hand. Now that they''d reached their destination, she released Rath to his own devices. Marco would not escape so easily. ¡°It always makes my teeth hurt,¡± the young woman whined, scowling at the tram cars flashing by so fast they appeared as little more than a sparkling blur.


    ¡°That¡¯s the EM field,¡± Rath said in the tired tone of a mentor who¡¯d repeated the same lesson numerous times. ¡°If it weren¡¯t for the integration of organic lattice into our nanites, that field could lead to a catastrophic failure of the entire ONI system.¡± His head tipped down, catching her gaze while he struggled to maintain his deadpan delivery. ¡°We learned this in the Dorms ages ago, shadows for brains.¡±


    Mary¡¯s jaw dropped, offering only a series of owlish blinks while her brain rebooted. Her partner¡¯s derisive snort seemed to jump start the process. The young woman tried dividing her attention between the two men before the full force of her dainty scowl turned Rathaniel¡¯s way. ¡°You are the shadows for brains, Ratty. You!¡± Heedless of the attention her antics were drawing, Mary jabbed a reprimanding finger into Rath¡¯s chest to match the cadence of her voice. ¡°You. Are. A. Dimwit. You are always picking on me for no reason. None! Wait till I tell Jerry.¡± Overlooking the way Rath stiffened, she continued with a sniff and a disdainful toss of her silken ringlets. ¡°The next time I see him I¡±ll¡­he¡¯ll¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, aborting her threat with a strangled sound. Mary''s eyes grew wider with every mortified heartbeat of silence that followed. Appalled, one hand rose to cover her mouth with an open palm, but it was far too late to keep the painful subject from tumbling past her lips.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Maryberry,¡± Rath murmured, forcing his lips to twist into a reassuring smile that didn¡¯t manage to warm the dull luster of his eyes. He hated the growing dampness he could see in her timid gaze. He hated that one of his oldest friends thought him so fragile that she needed to walk on eggshells around him. Most of all, he hated that her concern was close to the truth.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get him back. Somehow. Krista will have a plan. Or we''ll make one ourselves.¡± Rathaniel¡¯s voice became more sure with every syllable as he drew from the bottomless well of rage that had been simmering within him all morning. His gaze sharpened, honed to a dangerous edge as he drew fresh strength from the crackling inferno that radiated from the silver bracer on he wore. ¡°I¡¯m not going to let anything stop us,¡± Rath growled, his eyes focused on something in the middle distance only he could see.


    Rubbing at the ONI bracer that felt as if it would melt off his wrist at any moment, Rathaniel never saw Marco move. His hazel eyes snapped back into focus when he felt the pale man¡¯s open palm thump against his back. Acting on reflex, and lingering wrath, he pivoted toward Marco with one calloused hand balling into a fist.


    ¡°Whatever we do,¡± Marco rumbled, ¡°We do it smart.¡± His blue eyes watched the tension bleed from Rath¡¯s broad-shouldered frame with the kind of scrutiny normally reserved for studying the dying embers in an extinguished forge. ¡°Right now, the smart thing is to get to our flickering home. Can everyone calm down long enough to do that?¡± For the first time there was a warning edge to Marco¡¯s baritone. A warning that, for the moment, quenched Rath¡¯s unpredictable ire.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said , nodding Marco¡¯s way. The word had scarcely left his lips when Mary¡¯s fingers found his hand again. Instead of looking up at him her gaze was downcast and her expression subdued. The grip of her hand was no less intense for it. He offered her delicate fingers a gentle squeeze as well, the gesture serving as both an apology and a promise.


    Mere moments later the tram whispered to a stop. The red lights scattered across the terminal changed to pulse a bright, vibrant green. Once the car doors hissed open, the blinking lights bathed the platform in a steady green glow. On cue, the arriving passengers departed onto the far side of the terminal while those standing with Rath and his friends surged forward to secure a spot on the tram.


    With minimal jostling, the trio stepped into a rapidly filling car. At twenty meters long, each car could hold two hundred people at maximum capacity. While it was unusual for a car to exceed capacity, it was all too common for citizens to find transit uncomfortably cramped.


    Once inside, a few brisk steps let the trio stake out a corner of the compartment to serve as their territory during the short trip. Though the two men remained standing, Mary chose to claim one of the empty seats. She also chose to claim the seat beside her for Marco, whether he wanted to sit or not. After a couple tugs at his arm and a grumbled comment that Rath didn¡¯t quite catch, Marco abandoned his guard post to fulfill the dubious duty of serving as Mary¡¯s living pillow. Once they¡¯d settled, Rath politely ignored the lovers in favor of studying the wide array of citizens filling the car.


    Most of the people settling into the tram dressed in the same white outfits that Mary and Marco wore. Commonly referred to as ¡®rec whites.¡¯ But there were always a few, like Rath, who were in their caste uniforms. Halfway up the car, three administrators sat together in silence with a respectful ring of open space around them. Their boundary was thin compared to the ring of empty space surrounding the Peace Keeper. Standing at the far end of the car, with their back to the wall, the smooth, mirrored mask they wore reflected everyone on the tram. By design it was impossible to tell where the Keeper was looking, or rather, who they were looking at. Yet as Rath studied the law enforcement official from afar, he couldn¡¯t shake the clawing suspicion that they were staring directly at him.


    It took all his restraint to resist a sigh of relief when the lights flickered red and the doors to the tram began to close. But a heartbeat before the doors sealed, a woman with auburn hair darted through the narrow crack. The slim woman dressed in green coveralls wove her way deftly through the crowded section of the car. Rath watched her progress, expecting her to settle into any of the empty seats beside the aisle, but the woman ignored them all. Her methodical progress didn¡¯t stop until she was an arms length from him.


    ¡°Hello,¡± the analyst said in a soft soprano voice. The woman made no attempt to hide the way her green eyes trailed from the top of his head to the toes of his boots.. ¡°Do you mind if I stand back here? I don¡¯t care much for crowds. At least back here I¡¯m not surrounded by strangers. Just standing beside a singular stranger.¡± Without waiting for his response she turned to place her back against the wall beside him. ¡°I really, really don¡¯t understand how people can ride in the middle of the tram. Isn¡¯t it gross?¡±


    Despite himself, Rath couldn¡¯t resist a faint smile. ¡°Well, I think the first thing we should do is introduce ourselves? My name is Rathaniel Bright and I really, really don¡¯t want you to think of me as some gross stranger.¡± He couldn¡¯t resist the urge to mimic her tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marco casually shift his attention from the window to Rath¡¯s new acquaintance. Far less discrete, Mary had given up on pretending to be asleep in favor of evaluating this new arrival with a look that dripped judgmental bias.


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Laborer Bright. My name is Abigail Summers.¡± Abigail said, her cheerful soprano voice a perfect match for the sparkle in her vibrant emerald eyes. ¡°I guess, since you¡¯re in uniform, you must have had a shuffle today? I hope yours went better than mine.¡± At this, she leaned in closer and dropped her voice to a sultry whisper. ¡°The dimwit Blankets shuffled me into mining logistics! Mining!¡± The analyst¡¯s voice grew louder as she spoke, each word laced with more bitterness than the last. ¡°I really, really wanted to be back in urban development.¡±


    ¡°But I guess it could be worse,¡± Abigail continued, letting her emerald gaze flicker across Rath¡¯s gray coveralls. ¡°I heard a rumor that one of you Labor boys got pinched by the Keepers.¡±


    A smile, full of mischief and spite, tugged at the woman¡¯s lips as she leaned close enough to press her body to his. Rath could see Marco shaking his head while Mary tried to rise despite Marco''s efforts to keep her in her seat. He wished he could reassure his friends that he knew how dangerous it was to share his experience with a stranger. Unfortunately, the sad truth was that Rathaniel found it very hard to think past the hypnotic sparkle in the analyst¡¯s emerald eyes.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know anything about that,¡± Abigail almost purred, ¡°would you?¡±

 1.3

    Sometimes a good friend is the only thing standing between you and a yawning pit of inevitable doom.  In Rath¡¯s case, salvation arrived when Mary appeared like a petite missile flying across the tram car.  After launching herself from her seat, despite Marco¡¯s failed attempt at deescalation,  the young woman planted both palms against Rathaniel¡¯s chest and gave him a shove hard enough to push him into the wall behind him.  The audible thud of his impact was an abject reminder that, regardless of her size, the toned and capable body of a laborer lurked beneath Mary¡¯s rec whites.


    ¡°Are you out of your flickering mind?,¡±  Mary hissed. As she spoke, her eyes narrowed like a viper preparing to sink its fangs into a rodent too stupid to realize the danger it was in.  ¡°A walking reprimand sways her hips and bats her eyes at you then suddenly you¡¯re ready to tell her your life story?¡±


    ¡°Ouch,¡±  Rathaniel replied, returning Mary¡¯s accusatory look with an indignant scowl.  Eyeing her warily, Rath began to defend himself by saying,  ¡°Would you calm dow¡­¡±


    As it so happened, that was as far as Rath made it before Abigail stepped around Mary to take possession of his arm.  Caught completely off guard, he sent an incredulous look toward the woman who¡¯d pressed herself into his side.  ¡°You can call this ¡®walking reprimand¡¯ Abigail Summers. She is a virtuous woman of impeccable moral character and discerning taste.¡±  The slack jawed, wide-eyed look Mary was giving his new acquaintance sent warning sirens howling through his mind.


    ¡°Now if you¡¯ll excuse us,¡±  Abigail said, after offering Mary a dismissive sniff. A heartbeat later Rathaniel was, once again, the target of her enchanting emerald eyes.  ¡°My handsome friend was unburdening himself after a really, really difficult day.¡±


    Much to his disappointment, and chagrin, Rath¡¯s mind blanked when Analyst Summers leaned into him once more.  It wasn¡¯t so much that Rath was unfamiliar with the more physical elements of feminine charm, but this level of contact between citizens was practically taboo.  Mary hadn¡¯t been exaggerating, at least not by much, with her ¡®walking reprimand¡¯ comment.  Even the way Mary and Marco conducted themselves in public was generally frowned upon. That was considering they were a long-time couple  applying for a cohabitation license. For him, to be the subject of such aggressive advances from a stranger was  extremely uncomfortable. To a growing number of people watching the drama unfold, Rathaniel''s discomfort was as intriguing as it was fascinating.


    ¡°Look, uh, Abigail.   Its been a pretty rough day,¡±  Rath began in, what he hoped, was a neutral tone.  Mindful of the murderous stare written across Mary¡¯s face, he tried to politely withdraw his arm from its, entirely too comfortable, position against Abigail¡¯s chest.  ¡°I appreciate your concern.  I wouldn''t mind the chance  to get to know you,¡±  he continued, tugging more insistently at his captured arm when Mary growled like a feral cat, ¡°But today isn¡¯t the best day for it.¡±


    Undeterred, Abigail¡¯s grip became tighter while Rath grew more forceful with his rejection.  What¡¯s more, she seemed serene in the face of his mild refusal.  While Rathaniel tried to liberate his arm, a captivating smile blossomed upon her luscious lips.


    ¡°No such thing as a bad day to make a new friend, is there?¡±  Rath found himself wondering if anyone had ever had the audacity to deny the beautiful woman what she wanted.


    That was when Mary punched him.  Or would have, if Marco hadn¡¯t inserted himself between the furious laborer and her target.  With the grace of a dance instructor, the powerfully muscled man flowed from his seat to capture Mary¡¯s tiny fist like a tidal wave capsizing a rowboat.  Another wordless growl rattled its way past Mary¡¯s lips as her free hand rose to express her displeasure with Rathaniel in more physical terms.  Marco, once again, interceded as if he¡¯d been expecting her to do exactly that.  Still moving with a speed that belied his size, he once again plucked her swinging fist from the air. Both her hands now captured, Marco twirled the young woman as if they were spending their rec day in a dance hall.  The petite laborer''s spin, sent the dark ringlets of her hair flying until she came to a stop with her back to Marco¡¯s chest.  Despite Mary''s growl of protest, his arms wrapped around her in a snug binding of well muscled flesh.


    ¡°Are you finished giving everyone in the car something to talk about? Could we sit down and continue whatever this is with a bit more privacy?¡± Marco¡¯s sapphire eyes swept from Rath to Abigail and then back again.  While he spoke, Marco refused to dignify Mary''s struggles with a response. Rath had to admire the way his friend could pretend not to notice the stream of profanity whispering from her lips.   Her choice of language was colorful enough to draw a blush from the oldest miners he''d ever met..


    ¡°No reason to stand while we can sit, Rathaniel,¡±  Abigail said in a magnanimous tone. The analyst tossed a brilliant smile Mary¡¯s way as she sashayed past the other woman.  For his part, Rath was equal parts annoyed and amused when she finally released his arm to sink into a nearby seat.  After a heartbeat of consideration, Rath offered Mary a sheepish smile as he moved to sit beside his new friend.  The look he received in return made him wince.  He would be hearing about this later.


    ¡°Alright then,¡±  Marco rumbled, releasing Mary who immediately turned to give him the same narrow eyed look she¡¯d leveled at Rathaniel.  If the big man noticed, it didn¡¯t show in his nonplussed body language.


    ¡°My name is Marco Fennel and this is Mary Devereaux,¡±  he continued, illustrating his words by taking hold of Mary¡¯s hand.  ¡°The three of us are all labor castes living in building four,¡±  Marco said, leading Mary to the last spot by the window before taking the seat beside her.   To her credit, the dark haired woman only briefly resisted the way he tugged her down into the seat beside him.


    ¡°Pleased to make your acquaintance. I¡¯m sure we can all be fabulous friends,¡±  Abigail said, her sultry soprano sounding scandalously sinful.


    After finally releasing Rath¡¯s arm, the woman in green coveralls let her faceted emerald eyes drift across the three laborers.   Her cool, assessing gaze scrutinized Marco before turning her eyes toward the petulant Mary.  ¡°I know I¡¯ve been rather forward, but I¡¯m very interested to know what happened at that shuffle earlier today.  Who was the man taken into custody?  Was it because of a reprimand?  Or was it something else?¡±  By the time she¡¯d run out of questions her inquisitive look had meandered its way back to where Rathaniel sat at her side.


    Feeling the combined weight of everyone''s attention, Rath was slow to answer.  His lips pursed into a thin line while he took a moment to glance across the car to see if they were still being watched.  Most of their spectators had turned their attention to other entertainment by now.  The mirrored mask worn by the Peace Keeper at the far end of the car made it impossible to know if they were interested in the impromptu meeting taking place.


    In the interest of caution, Rathaniel pitched his voice low so his words only carried to the ears within the booth they shared.  When he spoke, slow and methodical, his words sounded like the grinding of a millstone.


    For the second time that day, Rathaniel retold the events of his shuffle. This time his voice was steady and filled with a sense of purpose whereas before it had only relayed the shock of his unexpected loss.  Like a student watching their favorite teacher, Abigail listened attentively, only interrupting to ask an occasional question for the sake of clarity.  Marco and Mary remained silent throughout, both of them having arrived at a sort of grim acceptance of the situation.


    Twice the tram slowed to a halt, allowing some of the travelers the chance to disembark.  After a few bustling moments of activity, others waiting at the terminal took their place.


    Rath focused on his story, all but ignoring the comings and goings of the other citizens around him.  He lost track of them all except for one specific citizen.  The Peace Keeper never so much as flinched from his perch at the far end of the car.


    ¡°So do you know where this Ovid fellow might be?  Any ideas at all?¡±  Abigail asked, her head tilted to the side while she nibbled on her lower lip.


    ¡°No idea.¡±  It was Mary that replied, perhaps sensing that Rath would appreciate a break from guiding the conversation.  ¡°Marco and I haven¡¯t seen him in at least a couple mensis.   I didn¡¯t think about it at the time, but after hearing what Jared said, I can look back and see the way he began to drift away from us.  All of us.¡±  As she continued, Mary¡¯s eyes took on a distant cast and a self-deprecating smile twisted the corners of her lips. ¡°There¡¯s never enough time, is there?  It''s easy to lose track of things when there¡¯s always the work, or the shuffle, or the¡­¡±  Her voice trailing off, Mary looked toward Marco for support.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what Ovid got into,¡±  the blonde laborer murmured, one of his big hands moving to cover one of Mary¡¯s with a comforting squeeze.  ¡°I do remember the last time I saw him.  He lives on the same floor we do and I caught him outside his apartment one day. Ovie is normally a talker, so I thought it was odd, even then, that he was in such a rush to get into his apartment.  He had a stack of books in his hands that he kept trying to juggle around so I opened the door for him.  When I asked what they were about, he said they were engineering books that he got to help Ratty with a project.¡±


    Rathaniel gave a start at hearing his nickname.  He spoke with his dark eyebrows knitting together in confusion,  ¡°I don¡¯t know what he was talking about, Marco.  You know I do a little bit of electrical crafting, but nothing more than lighting repair or working on simple motors.  I¡¯m no analyst.  I don¡¯t do engineering.¡±


    Abigail smoothly leaned into him then, placing an open palm on his thigh.  Her head tilted up and her lips grew close enough to his neck  that he could feel her breath against his skin when she spoke. ¡°There are all sorts of things I can teach you,¡±  the analyst murmured.


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    Heedless of the byplay across the booth, and of Mary¡¯s barely contained outrage, Marco continued in his gruff voice.  ¡°I should have asked about it earlier, but I guess I¡¯m as guilty of being distracted as everyone else.¡±  Marco then cast an idle glance over his shoulder at the crowded car behind them before he shifted forward in his seat. Dropping his voice so low that the other three had to lean in to hear him, Marco continued in a whisper.  ¡°The weirdest thing is that I know one of those books had something about ONI on it.¡±


    Abigail sucked in a breath and jerked back in her seat as if Marco¡¯s words had scalded her.  ¡°Not possible.  Or, well, not legally possible.  There are no books written on the ONI system and it''s impossible to get a license to write about it.  Its restricted tech and the analysts that work on them never get shuffled to a different job.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they knew that he was reading unlicensed research on the ONI?,¡±  Mary offered , her deep brown eyes darting from Rathaniel to Marco.  ¡°If they were afraid he¡¯d told someone about what he was working on, that could explain why they were so quick to take an associate of his into custody.¡±


    Abigail furrowed her eyebrows as she turned toward Mary.  After a moment¡¯s pause with her lips pursed,  the analyst finally spoke in a voice that, for the first time, lacked conviction. ¡°That isn¡¯t how things work.  Citizens of Nox are accountable for their own actions and only their own actions.  What you¡¯re describing would be some kind of investigation. Something like that would have to come all the way down from the Eternal Council.¡±


    ¡°The other analysts,¡±  Rathaniel began, his voice pitched toward his nearby friends but his eyes focused on the other end of the car.  He continued after a short beat, though his eyes never left the masked Peace Keeper, ¡°The ones that you said work on the ONI.  If they don¡¯t shuffle then someone besides administrators issue their work details.  Who is in charge of that?¡±


    ¡°The Eternal Council,¡± Mary growled, looking toward Abigail as if daring her to deny it.  The analyst''s only response was a shake of her head and an agitated sweep of splayed fingers through her wavy auburn hair.  Accepting that as an admission, Mary continued in a voice so caustic you could imagine her words dripping acid.  ¡°They¡¯re the ones that took Jer.  They thought Ovie learned something or did something and told him about it.¡±  Mary¡¯s balled fist struck her own thigh hard enough to elicit a dull crack.


    In the back of his mind, Rathaniel knew that his fixation on the Peace Keeper was neither smart nor reasonable.  After the day he¡¯d had, doing anything to attract the attention of the law enforcement caste was an absolute mistake.  To garner that attention by engaging in a staring contest with a Keeper was the height of absurdity.  And yet, he couldn¡¯t help himself.  Like a moth fluttering toward the warm glow of dancing candlelight, his hazel eyes kept returning to the Keeper while his mind churned with their newfound revelations.  What if it was the Eternal Council?  Some of the earliest classes at the Dormitories were about the history of the Imperium.  Everyone knew the council of five led the pilgrimage to Magna Spelunca.  They had, literally, laid the first stones.  Planted the first crops.  Ignited the first lanterns.  And, most importantly, found a way to refine glimmerkriss lattice into the organic nanites that helped sustain each and every person who called Nox home.  Their collective word was law of the highest order because their dedication to Nox and its citizens was above refute.  Stewardship of Nox was the entire purpose of their immortal existence.


    If his friends were right, and Mary seemed to think they were, what did that mean?  Was Ovie, somehow, an existential threat to the city?  Were he and Jared actually co-conspirators intent on bringing down their way of life?  He couldn¡¯t imagine it.  But what was the alternative then?  If the Eternal Council wasn¡¯t justified in persecuting his friends, were there others who¡¯d suffered the same?  What had happened to them?


    Rathaniel wasn¡¯t the only one lost in his own thoughts.  A silence as heavy as any stone he¡¯d ever lifted settled over the booth he and his friends had claimed.  Wrapped snugly in a blanket of contemplative quiet, Rath was barely aware of the muted roar of conversation all around them.


    Further away from the city center,  and deeper into the darkness that lay undisturbed by the Helios towers, the laborers and analysts on the tram began to relax and feel more at home.  You would find no red Blankets out on the edges of Nox,.  Out here the only thing holding the darkness at bay were the street lamps and the pale glow leaking from the buildings rising so high that they vanished into the darkness above.  The fringes, close to the wall separating the city from the wilds of the cavern, lay the part of the city that the lower castes called home.


    ¡°The building three terminal the next stop,¡± Abigail said in a subdued tone.  A heartbeat later, she had the attention of three emotionally drained laborers.  The analyst let her green eyes drift from one face to the next before finally settling on Rath.  ¡°Which mine shaft did you say you got shuffled into?¡±  Her voice was soft and casual, like the soft, casual way she trailed the tip of her index finger against the zipper of his coveralls.


    ¡°Oh, uh,¡±  Rathaniel stumbled, torn between looking into her twinkling emerald eyes and watching her long fingers tug at the zipper.  After the third time his lips opened and closed with no words emerging from them, the sound of Mary clearing her throat as obnoxiously as possible helped him focus enough to deliver an answer. ¡°


    It was sector C, shaft 48,¡± Rath finally muttered, one of his hands swatting at her wandering hand the same way he might try to ward away an irritating fly.


    There was a pause after he spoke, as if she were playing his words back in her head to reassure herself that she¡¯d heard him right.  A heartbeat later, her face lit up like a Helios tower.  Vibrating with excitement, her luscious lips parted to display a toothy grin.  ¡°I¡¯m in shaft 48 too!  We can take the tram together in the morning.  Get off at building three and I¡¯ll find you at the terminal.  Unless, ¡° she continued, walking her fingers across the front of his coveralls despite his attempt at batting her fingers to the side..  Her head tipped forward to look up at him through her long lashes, ¡°You want to save yourself the hassle and stay with me tonight?¡±


    ¡°Oh for the love of everything Bright!,¡± Mary erupted, throwing her hands in the air before leaning across the booth to remove Abigail¡¯s hand from Rathaniel''s chest.  ¡°Just go already.  You can¡¯t even imagine how much trouble you¡¯ve gotten Ratty into.¡±  Abigail gamely tried to return her hand to where it had been only for Mary to swat it away once more.  ¡°And another thing!  Don¡¯t wait tomorrow morning unless you want to be late.  He¡¯s not allowed to spend time with strange, shameless, analysts!¡±  With each word, Mary grew more animated until she sneered the last words in Abigail¡¯s direction.


    The auburn haired woman tipped her head back and made no attempt to stifle the giggles that erupted from her lips.  While Mary fumed, Abigail offered Marco a playful wink. ¡°It was a pleasure to meet both of you.  I hope next time we can have a longer talk somewhere more comfortable than the tram.¡±  The tall woman rose to her feet, arms lifting above her head in a sensuous stretch that accentuated the voluptuous curves beneath the polysynth uniform she wore.


    ¡°And as for you, ¡° she purred, looking over her shoulder at the spellbound Rathaniel, ¡°I¡¯ll see you in the morning, Ratty.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not his name!,¡±  Mary huffed at the departing woman.  The three laborers could hear Abigail¡¯s laughter as she made her way down the aisle toward the now open door.  Moments later, the new friend that had crashed into their lives vanished into the crowd exiting the tram.


    ¡°And you!,¡± Mary said, ¡°When I said you¡¯re not allowed, I meant it!  You.  Are.  Not.  Allowed.  Ratty.¡±  Each word was painstakingly enunciated with a pause between each one to convey the appropriate gravity of her proclamation.


    ¡°Now Mary, ¡° Marco said, the quiet man finally taking the helm in the conversation again.  ¡°Rath is a grown man.¡±  Mary turned to him with a betrayed look that became indignant rage.  The blonde laborer hurried on before she could interrupt. ¡°Besides, we¡¯ve got more important things to worry about, right?  Like it or not, we learned some important things from Abigail tonight and we need to focus on that.  We need to meet up with Krista and anyone else who happens to be around.¡±


    Mary¡¯s arms crossed her chest in a sulky pose that made her into the very image of a petulant child.  Unfortunately for her, long cycles of exposure to Mary¡¯s antics had immunized Rath to her particular brand of insanity.  Besides that, Marco was absolutely correct.  They had more important things to devote their energy to than Abigail or Mary¡¯s opinion of her.


    ¡°Do you think the Eternal Council put our friends in custody?,¡± Rath¡¯s voice had a hollow ring to it as the doors closed and the tram began to accelerate again.  ¡°They''re supposed to be good people.  The best people.  Why would they want to do that to a good man like Jared?"


    Marco tilted his head, weighing Rathaniel¡¯s words with the careful  consideration they were due.  Still mulling over an answer, the big man lifted an arm to drape over Mary¡¯s shoulder. As if by reflex, when the young woman nestled quietly against his side, her spiteful wrath soothed by his contact.


    When Marco finally spoke, it was the simple, direct sort of answer his friends had come to expect from him.  ¡°Yes, Rath.  They might be the ones responsible and we need to accept that it might have been justified.¡±


    Rath flinched from his words as if Marco had leaned across the booth and slapped him.  ¡°I know.  I keep thinking that Jer didn¡¯t tell me anything.  I have to think that if Ovie had shared something Jared would have told me about it.¡±  Even to himself the words rang hollow.  Rath knew, they all knew, that the last thing Jared would do was share knowledge that could put his friends in danger.  ¡°But what could Ovie have known?  What could he have done that was so bad the flickering Eternal Council got involved?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, Ratty,¡±  Mary said, her voice sounding small and unsure as she curled up against Marco¡¯s broad chest.  ¡°We¡¯ve got to get them back.  That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡±  Marco rumbled, ¡°And I¡¯m sure the others will feel the same way.  Whatever secrets Jared may have kept were important for him to protect.  Ovie must have had a reason to learn or do whatever it is that put him on the Council¡¯s watch list.  Right now, the only choice we have is to trust our friends.¡±


    Rath remained silent despite the pulse of guilt urging him to agree with Marco¡¯s assessment.  But the lingering skepticism he felt couldn¡¯t be quelled so easily.  How long had it been since any of them had seen Ovid?  Who knew what he could have been up to during that time.  Marco himself had witnessed their friend in the possession of unlicensed literature.  The difference between him and his friend was that, to them, it didn''t matter what Ovid had been up to.


    ¡°Get up, stalagmite,¡± Mary said in a sing-song voice before her boot lashed out to kick him in the shin.  Both she and Marco ignored Rath¡¯s sharp, indrawn breath as they rose to their feet in a series of stretches that were far less sensual than Abigail¡¯s had been.  ¡°C¡¯mon, Ratty.  You¡¯ve been so bad today that I have to personally escort you to Krista.¡±


    ¡°First we have to stop in the lobby for a nutricube,¡± Marco pragmatically reminded her before he began making his way toward the door.


    ¡°Awww¡­.,¡±  Mary whined, following her paramour after  making certain that Rath was on his feet and ready to depart. ¡°Can¡¯t we dump him off on Krista and then go back downtown?¡±


    Grumbling under his breath about the unfairness of having to report to Krista, Rathaniel followed the laborer duo by reflex.  With his mind cluttered by questions of what if and how come, he didn¡¯t bother sparing the crowd around him so much as a token glance.  With Mary still complaining about food, it was all too easy for Rath to mechanically trail after her voice.


    It wasn¡¯t until they had navigated the stairs and begun walking down the dimly lit concrete street that he took a moment to look around.  Due to the time of day, most people were either at their job assignments or downtown enjoying a rec day.  This left the streets sparsely populated.


    Sparsely, in this case, meant Rath, his friends, a few scattered laborers, and the Peace Keeper that had exited the tram behind them.

 1.4

    For all his admirable traits, Rathaniel was not now, nor would he ever be, an actor.  The tall laborer was certain he had plenty of valuable talents to offset such a minor shortcoming.  Unfortunately, after mentally populating a list that included some of his best traits, Rath was forced to accept that the current problem wasn¡¯t likely to be solved by his skill at Sudoku or his ability to recite the alphabet backwards.  Talent notwithstanding, Rath gamely attempted to affect an air of nonchalance when his hazel eyes slid across the mirrored mask of the Peace Keeper that was following the trio of laborers down the street.  This particular Peace Keeper had shared the tram with he and his friends since the moment they¡¯d boarded the maglev train.  It was difficult to imagine that the continued presence of the blue uniformed Keeper was mere coincidence.  Effecting the very portrait of an unconcerned citizen, Rath¡¯s bored gaze drifted back toward the ongoing argument between Mary and Marco taking place a few steps ahead of him. Purely by happenstance, the pace set by his heavy work boots against the cold concrete casually quickened to bring him abreast of Marco and Mary once more.  Quite proud of his subterfuge, Rathaniel turned toward Mary only to find the young woman already looking up at him with a glimmer of apprehension in the depths of her bottomless brown eyes.


    All it had taken was a glance at Rathaniel¡¯s face for her to see the tight, thin line of his pursed lips and the contours of his clenched jaw.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Ratty?¡±  Mary murmured, disabusing Rath¡¯s thoughts of being a spy craft prodigy with three soft-spoken words.


    Marco had taken note of his friend¡¯s obvious distress as well.  True to form, Mary¡¯s silent partner let her do the questioning while he took a quick look up and down the street.  Unlike Rathaniel, the blonde man did a laudable job of hiding his emotions when he saw the Keeper. About half a block behind them, dressed in a dark blue polysynth uniform, the law enforcer kept pace with the trio.


    ¡°There¡¯s a Keeper behind us,¡± Rath said, resisting the urge to lean in and whisper his reply.  ¡°I think it''s the same one from the tram.  Do you think they heard us?¡±


    ¡°In that noisy tram?  Not a chance. We could barely hear that loudmouth analyst and she was sitting far too close. Maybe if they have some Keeper tech helping them out, but I¡¯ve never heard of anything like that.¡±  Mary turned to look to Marco for confirmation, to which the big man could do nothing more than offer a helpless shrug.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter whether he heard us or not.  The fact that he¡¯s obviously following us is what we need to discuss.  Right now.¡±  There was a rare edge of urgency in the way the usually stoic Marco clipped his words.  Unbidden, Rath¡¯s eyes began to drift towards the yawning entrance to an approaching alley.  Without an occasional  lamp to light the way, that passage was even darker than the dimly lit street ahead.  Before he could give more than a passing thought toward fleeing into the darkness, Marco¡¯s voice brought his attention back to the conversation at hand.  ¡°We have three blocks before we get home.  If he makes a move, it¡¯ll be when we go into the lobby.  So we need to decide on a plan before we get to building four.  Any thoughts?¡±


    ¡°We have to run, right?¡±  Mary chimed in, her steady soprano voice equal parts question and statement.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we have a choice.  But only if we¡¯re sure he¡¯s making a move to scan our ONI,¡±  Rathaniel said, his words laden with grim conviction.


    Once a Peace Keeper scanned someone¡¯s ONI they had the authority to activate the root command protocol of the nanites within that citizen¡¯s body. In a matter of heartbeats, the very technological wonders that  supplemented a citizen¡¯s life processes from birth could be suborned by the political police. LIke a double edged sword, the manifold abilities the nanites bestowed upon the citizens of Nox were paralleled by the city¡¯s shepherds using the access granted by the ONI as a way of tending to their subterranean flock. The root command protocol was the tool used during a shuffle to retrieve a citizens identification number so that individuals would be properly assigned to their next work detail.  Infrequently, the protocol could be used to access the data storage of a person¡¯s ONI system since the nanites, literally, recorded everything a person said, saw, or heard from one mensis to the next.  There were rumors of the available data lasting far longer than a single mensis, but there were more unverified rumors of the ONI than Rath could count and since any experimentation on the system was forbidden, he had no way to confirm if any of the urban legends were true.  Finally, and most immediately relevant, a Keeper could take over an ONI and shut a citizen down.  As long as they were within twenty meters of a target, the Keepers could force a citizen to collapse like a puppet whose strings had been cut.


    ¡°Where would we even go?,¡±  Mary asked, already second guessing her initial response.  ¡°If they don¡¯t  know who we are, it¡¯s only a matter of time before they do.  Even if we get away this time, they¡¯ll put our IDs on a watch list.  We won¡¯t be able to go home, or recharge our ONI, or even get one of the flickering nutricubes that I flickering hate..¡±


    ¡°Two blocks,'' Marco pronounced as they passed a narrow alley.  As the trio grew closer to the residential building they called home,  the streets began to fill with citizens once more.  A far cry from the writhing mass of humanity choking the streets beneath the Helios towers, travelers on the edge of the city gave each other a wide berth as they navigated their way through Nox¡¯s back alleys.  Unlike the inner city, there were no green or red uniforms on display.  Gray and white coveralls were  the exclusive dress code of the growing crowd beginning to choke the street.  The one exception was the Peace Keeper trailing behind them.  Despite the heavy foot traffic, the people of the lowest caste flowed around the blue uniform like dolphins avoiding a patrolling shark.


    Though the sounds of life began to gain volume around them, silence descended on the trio.   For a handful of steps, all three racked their brains to find a solution.  It soon became clear that the hush around them was the product of all three arriving at answers that they would prefer to leave unspoken.


    ¡°Mary is right,¡±  the blonde man rumbled. Carefully weighing his words, Marco glanced toward Rathaniel as he spoke, ¡°Running isn¡¯t an option.  We haven¡¯t done anything wrong, so we¡¯d be better off trying to talk our way out of any trouble.¡±


    Out of the corner of his eye, Rath could see Marco looking toward him for support. Instead of meeting his friend¡¯s sapphire eyes, he turned his gaze down to the gray concrete.  Marco hadn¡¯t seen them drag Jared away.  Marco didn¡¯t understand, or didn¡¯t want to accept, that nothing could keep them safe if the upper castes decided to punish them.  Rath understood the reasoning.  Yesterday, he¡¯d have felt the same way.  But the shuffle today had changed everything for him.


    Seeing no support from either of his friends, a long sigh slid from Marco¡¯s lips before he finished quietly, ¡°The Keeper behind us may not even know who we are.  Maybe they¡¯re looking for Ovid.¡±


    Rathaniel slowed to a near stop.  Shaking his head, one word tumbled from his lips, ¡°Ovid,¡± he  said, with a mirthless chuckle.


    ¡°Batshit for brains,¡±  Mary hissed, reaching back to latch onto his hand.  Her firm tug nearly pulled him off balance in its haste to get him moving in the right direction again.  ¡°Are you trying to get yourself pinched?¡±  The young woman was still seething when she released his hand but her paramour remained quiet. Marco turned an expectant gaze toward Rathaniel that was far more patient than the imminent doom promised by Mary¡¯s molten look.


    ¡°Jared said he hadn¡¯t seen Ovid in more than two mensis.  His ONI should have shut down after the first shuffle.  There¡¯s no way it could have lasted past the second.  But here they are, still looking for him.¡±  Rathaniel managed to keep his feet moving and his voice quiet, but the words fell from his lips in a rush of realization.  ¡°Whatever he¡¯s done, he must have figured out a way to recharge his ONI and still stay  hidden from the Keepers.  Somehow.  All we have to do is find him and he¡¯ll be able to hide us too.¡±


    Mary¡¯s only reply to his revelation was the way her nose wrinkled as if she¡¯d caught a whiff of a particularly putrid aroma.  Marco offered a more measured response, though it was impossible to miss the dull shimmer of skepticism in his deep blue eyes.


    ¡°He could be dead, Rath,¡±  Marco said, making no attempt to mince words.


    Mary snapped out of her sour expression to cast a wide-eyed look toward Marco.  She started to speak, but Marco barreled on, ¡°Nobody wants to think about it, but it¡¯s the most likely scenario.  With all the resources the other castes have at their disposal, the only realistic way he could have avoided detection for this long is if he¡¯s managed to crawl into a hole somewhere and never crawled back out.¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Refusing to be ignored any longer, Mary¡¯s balled fist struck Marco in the side.  A wordless growl of frustration from the young woman offered a threat of more violence if Marco wasn¡¯t more careful with his words in the future.  Despite the Mary''s scowl, Rath could tell that her heart wasn¡¯t in it.


    Marco didn¡¯t even break stride as he weathered the assault.  ¡°We¡¯re coming up on a block left,¡± he said. ¡°Right now our best plan is to pretend everything is normal and hope for the best.  It''s not much of a plan, but we¡¯re awfully short on time and alternatives ¡±


    Rathaniel didn¡¯t realize he was clenching his jaw until he felt his teeth grinding together.  He understood his friend¡¯s logic. Marco always approached his problems from a simple, rational angle.  On a normal day, solving a normal problem, the best way to approach a difficult issue was exactly what Marco described.  But today was not a normal day.  Nor was being stalked through the city by a Peace Keeper considered a normal problem. Rathaniel¡¯s mind insisted that there was a reason his world had been turned upside down over the course of a single morning.  The other castes were investing too many resources into tracking down a wayward laborer.  The only way it made sense is if Ovid knew something dangerous.  Rath was convinced that there was more to the story, but he couldn¡¯t risk Marco and Mary on little more than a hunch.  That left only one alternative.


    ¡°We need to split up.¡±  Rath said, a sense of calm clarity settling over him for the first time since he¡¯d woken up in his apartment this morning.


    ¡°We¡­what¡­?,¡±  Mary stuttered, her voice rising an octave higher than her usul tone.  It was a rare thing to catch both his laborer friend off guard.  Rath would have basked in the moment had they not been rapidly running out of street to enact his plan.  Any teasing would have to wait until the next time he saw them.  And there will be a next time.  Rathaniel would make certain of it so that he could see Mary''s face when he bragged to Krista about leaving the her dumbstruck.


    ¡°We have to split up.  I¡¯ll distract the Keeper.  If he¡¯s not here to take us in, I''ll meet up with you two at Krista¡¯s.  If he is here for us, I¡¯ll run.¡±  Rathaniel tossed a glance over his shoulder.  As he¡¯d expected, the Keeper trailed after them with the lazy gait of someone strolling through a Verdant Park.  ¡°Someone has to get back to the others and tell them what happened today.  This is the only way we can make sure Jared¡¯s story gets back to everyone else.  Who knows what they might have seen or heard.  The key to finding Ovid could be waiting for us in Krista¡¯s apartment.¡±


    ¡°That analyst trollop scrambled your brain.¡±  Mary said, blinking owlishly.  Awestruck by Rathaniel¡¯s supreme stupidity, Mary regarded him as if bat wings had sprouted from his back.  ¡°They can shut you down, Ratty.  Did you forget about that part?¡±


    While Mary continued to dress Rath down with a series of insults that seemed to revolve around him being a ¡®horny lizardbrain,¡¯ Marco drug the pad of his right thumb against the chiseled line of his jaw.  After several moments of consideration, the blonde man finally mused out loud, ¡°If they¡¯re looking for us, what good does it do to distract them right now?  Won¡¯t they search the building anyway when they realize we slipped past them?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±  Rathaniel begrudgingly admitted.  His hand balled into a fist as if preparing to lash out at someone, anyone, to release some of the frustration he¡¯d felt building ever since the shuffle. ¡°But it gets us out of the situation we¡¯re in right now.  We can worry about tomorrow if we get that far.  Right now I want to get Mary off the streets and loop Krista in so that Jared¡¯s story doesn¡¯t vanish with us if we disappear.¡±


    Marco¡¯s reply was murmured in the tired, defeated tone of a man who knew the strife his words would bring crashing down onto his head. ¡°If you¡¯re going, you need to go now.  We¡¯re running out of time, Rath.¡±


    At the sound of Marco¡¯s voice, Mary spun toward him, her eyes narrowing dangerously.  Mary¡¯s  dark eyebrows furrowed in an expression that transformed the shock written across her face into a glare of righteous fury.  ¡°No!  He¡¯ll disappear like Ovie!  LIke Jared!  We can¡¯t lose Ratty too!  I can¡¯t lose¡­I can¡¯t¡­¡±  Mary¡¯s loud, insistent protest trailed off when some of the pedestrians around them began to take notice of the argument. A subdued Mary turned back to Rathaniel and saw the straight back and squared shoulders of a man marching off to war.  ¡°Don¡¯t go,¡±  the young woman whispered, curling her slender fingers into the sleeve of his coveralls to offer a gentle tug.  ¡°Please don¡¯t go, Rathaniel.¡±


    The way his old friend looked at him broke his heart, but Rath had made his decision.  Carefully, as if she were made of the most fragile porcelain in Nox, Rath worked her fingers free of his polysynth uniform.


    ¡°If I don¡¯t make it back before the first work period tomorrow I¡¯m either in custody or on the run.¡±  He could see Mary¡¯s eyes growing damp so he rushed to turn from her before the tightening in his chest could affect the tone of his voice.  ¡°If I don¡¯t make it home, look for me in Labyrinth Park on your next rec day.  Krista knows the spot..¡±


    Dodging Mary¡¯s attempt to grab his arm was one of the hardest things he¡¯d ever done.  As he turned to face the Keeper, Rath saw Marco give an almost imperceptible nod while Mary struggled against the arm that had been wrapped around her waist.  For a split second it felt like all three of them were pulling the world in different directions.  Reality itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.. Then Mary wilted against Marco¡¯s side and the world began spinning again, its course forever changed. After accepting their friend¡¯s choice, the retreating couple seemed to grow more confident with each passing step.


    While Mary and Marco¡¯s steps carried them toward their home, Rath¡¯s feet had shuffled to a stop.  Facing the Keeper, Rathaniel took a deep, calming breath and began to focus on the task at hand.  By the time the law enforcer was close enough for Rathaniel to see his reflection in their mirrored mask, he had to admit that his plan may have been inspired by a misguided notion of heroism.  When the cold claw of fear began twisting his gut, Rath made a promise to himself that he wouldn¡¯t disappear before giving Mary the chance to say ¡®I told you so.¡¯


    ¡°Thank the light! It''s brilliant to see a Peace Keeper out here on the edge.¡±  Rath had no idea why he¡¯d settled on this particular story.  He¡¯d opened his mouth and the nonsense had spilled out like sewage pouring from a faulty pipe.  ¡°Are you here about the graffiti down that alley?¡±  Rathaniel lifted a long arm to gesture toward the dark corridor carved between the two nearby buildings.  Open conversations with Keepers were rare enough that several passing citizens slowed their steps so that they could watch the exchange.  More than one of the curious onlookers directed open disdain toward Rath.  A Peace Keeper would never win a popularity contest.  Especially out here on the city¡¯s edge.  Their caste would, however, rank higher than a laborer working as an informant.


    The smile Rath kept plastered across his face, did nothing to ease the tension in his hazel eyes.  He ignored the sneer one woman tossed at him and the jostling bump applied by a blonde man who stood nearly as tall as Marco.  They could think whatever they wanted.  Rath¡¯s only concern was for the person in the blue polysynth uniform.  As the Keeper grew closer, Rath kept waiting for the sound of their modulated voice. Or perhaps they would reach for the datapad holstered against their thigh.  As fate would have it, Rath was spared either of those responses.


    Rath¡¯s smile finally faltered when the Keeper walked past him without ever slowing down.


    ¡°Hey!,¡±  the dark haired laborer called out as he turned to face the departing Keeper.  A sense of relief swept through him after a quick sweep of his eyes across the street showed no signs of Marco and Mary.  They¡¯d managed to disappear into building four while he was watching the law enforcer.  The same law enforcer that stopped and turned back toward the shouting laborer.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me?  There¡¯s a wall filled with graffiti less than a block down that alley.  Unlicensed art is a crime against the city.¡±  Rath didn¡¯t have to pretend to be outraged.  Like thick oil bubbling with searing heat, the rage he¡¯d wrestled with all day threatened to spill out of his tight grasp.  ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you go see it?  Or is walking down the street intimidating innocent citizens the most important thing you have to do?¡±  He didn¡¯t remember walking forward but, by the end of his growled accusation, Rath found himself within an arm¡¯s length of the target of his ire.


    A laborer tipping off a Keeper to a crime was barely worth a passing glance.  A laborer shouting criticisms at a Peace Keeper in the middle of the street was worthy of a crowd.  Citizens, mostly in white recs, began to form a knot with Rath and the law enforcer in the center.  In a sharp contrast to Rathaniel¡¯s barely contained wrath, the Keeper seemed utterly relaxed.  Their back was straight, shoulders square, and their arms were hanging loosely down their sides.  Their hand never so much as twitched toward their datapad while they stood still, letting the crowd gather and the silence grow.  When they did speak, the mirrored mask they wore shifted to glance at the throng of citizens around them.  Some flinched away at their reflection.  Others stiffened with an anger that was a match Rathaniel¡¯s.


    ¡°If you are so worried about our fair city,¡±  the Keeper began, their heavily modulated voice hauntingly clear to those among the hushed crowd.  ¡°Then I would suggest you spend your time doing something about it instead of spending your time telling someone about it.  I am not the solution to all your problems.  Stop waiting for my caste to fix things.  Do it yourself.¡±


    Rathaniel wanted to argue.  He wanted to shout and scream and spit.  He wanted to insist that they were all doing the best they could.  He wanted to challenge the Keeper¡¯s perspective and defend the lower caste who were trying to survive while they were locked in this living tomb named Magna Spelunca.  He wanted to do all those things and more.


    But he did none of it.  He spoke no word when the law enforcer turned away.  He shouted no curse nor raged against the cruelty of their magnificent city.  He made no promise of vengeance when the Keeper vanished into the dispersing crowd.  He could only stand there, playing back the cold, mechanical voice in his mind over and over again.


    Rath was not the only person disturbed by the Keeper¡¯s proclamation.  When he glanced around, blinking like a dreamer struggling to shrug their way out of slumber¡¯s embrace, he found an assortment of men and women with wide eyes and slack jaws.  A part of him yearned to comfort those people who looked as lost as he felt.


    He pushed the thought to the side as quickly as it had flashed through his mind.  Rathaniel spared one last look down the street before striking off toward the entrance of building four at a determined pace.  There were no Keepers following him. Nor were there any waiting to ambush him at the entrance.  He had no doubt that there would be more encounters with the political police in the future.


    But for now, it was time to find his friends.

 1.5

    Life was a fleeting thing for the millions of people who called Nox home.  For the hardy citizens flowing like blood through the city¡¯s concrete veins, there was one undeniable fact of life within the sunless land. Magna Spelunca, in all its terrible, wondrous glory, did not nurture humanity.  The great cavern merely tolerated the human invasion.


    The subterranean kingdom offered no true sunshine to warm the citizens and nourish the land.  Only through human ingenuity had the five Helios towers been lit to offer those lost in the dark a pale imitation of the absentee sun.  No wind blew through the massive cave to cool the fauna and promote the pollination of the meager flora. Due to the lack of a natural atmospheric cycle, the earliest generations of settlers had devised a method for industrializing the use of carbon dioxide scrubbers to save their people from suffocating like a litter of kittens beneath a heavy blanket.  These adaptations, along with thousands of other innovations, empowered the citizens of Nox with the capability to carve out a self-sustaining city despite the hostile environment.


    Of all humanity¡¯s inventions to stave off the dark shroud of death, there were none more crucial than the ONI.   The Organic Nanite Interface impacted every facet of life for the people who called Nox home.  The nanites each citizen received at birth supplemented everything from the air they breathed to the food they consumed.  The populace was so dependent on the ONI for their biological needs that cooked food had become a rare treat.   A synthetically constructed cube of vitamins and minerals provided the solution to potential starvation.  Engineered to sustain both the ONI and the human hosts, nanites could break down the ration cube into its constituent components within seconds.  Once broken down at the atomic level, a single cube could provide enough sustenance to maintain the life processes of a human and their ONI for up to three days.


    ¡°Depthless dark,  I hate those things.¡±  Mary cursed, bent forward and gagging like she¡¯d eaten a spotted toadstool instead of a nutricube fresh from the dispenser. ¡°The sacrifices I make for you, Ratty.¡±  The young woman mumbled, brushing her black ringlets away from her face to regard him balefully with a set red, watery eyes.  ¡°Next time I have the choice between you and lunch, I¡¯m taking the food.¡±


    Rathaniel shared a look with Marco while the tall, blonde haired man dutifully rubbed Mary¡¯s back to sooth his paramour.  He diplomatically chose not to mention the scene Mary had made when she¡¯d run across the to tackle him mere moments after he¡¯d passed through the scanner at the entrance.  The only thing that kept them from making an even bigger spectacle of themselves was the half meter in height and fifty plus kilograms in weight he had over his old friend.  Instead of Mary¡¯s exuberance knocking them both to the floor, the effect had resembled something akin to her running face first into a human-shaped wall.


    ¡°I¡¯ll treat you to lunch on our next rec day.¡±  Mary¡¯s mollified expression changed to one of abject horror as Rathaniel continued. ¡°I¡¯m sure Abigail would want to join us as well.  We really hit it off on the tram, don¡¯t you think?¡±  Rath shot her a roguish wink before he tossed back the nutricube that was roughly twice the size of his thumb.


    As a child, one of the Dormitory magisters had shared a legend about the hubris of man turning the world above into an endless sea of sand.  In her stories, the wind storms that swept across the desert''s towering dunes were so powerful, and the sand so limitless, that solid stone crumbled beneath the onslaught.  The sensation he felt when a tingling vortex of nanites disintegrated a nutricube always brought along thoughts of his old teacher and her fabulous tales.  Thankfully, unlike the eons of erosion described in Magister Sigma¡¯s bedtime stories, it only took three seconds to dismantle his synthesized lunch.


    ¡°I take it you two are finished enjoying your meal?¡±  Marco rumbled, blithely ignoring the venomous look Mary cast over her shoulder at him. ¡°Then let¡¯s get going.  We¡¯ve got a long story to share with Krista and I¡¯d rather we do that before another disaster strikes.  At this rate we¡¯ll be due for  an earthquake or a dweller incursion before we get off the mag-lift .¡±


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± Rath replied, sparing a quick glance across the lobby.  After his encounter with the Peace Keeper, he felt like everyone in the building was watching him.


    The ground floor of Sector C Residential Building Four was a large fifty meter square chamber. Polished granite flooring, speckled with brown, gray, and blue, stretched from the entrance to the mag-lift doors lining the far wall.  Rows of meticulously arranged columns, carved and polished from the same speckled stone as the floor, loomed over the chamber while supporting the vaulted concrete ceiling high above.  A circle of soil surrounded each column, from which thick, broad-leafed vines rose to climb the marble pillars. High above, Suspended from the concrete ceiling by invisible wires, hung dozens of coldlights. They were the same devices used in street lamps to produce pale white light without any heat.  Much like their exterior cousins, the glowing lights dangling above the lobby tried in vain to banish every shred of darkness clinging to their little piece of the city.  While admirable, the effort was doomed to fail. Generations of humanity subsisting within Magna Spelunca had learned that you couldn¡¯t illuminate the dark without creating a shadow.


    When Rath fell into step beside Mary once more, he felt the knot in his gut begin to loosen for the first time since his shuffle.  The cord of anxiety, cinched around his mind with furious resentment, had nearly snapped, more than once, the course of the morning.  Now, close to his friends and in the relative safety of his home, Rathaniel began to shed those ragged emotions like a snake shedding its skin.


    ¡°Do you think Krista is at home?¡±  Mary asked, looking from one man to the other as they approached the waiting mag-lifts.


    ¡°If she isn¡¯t we¡¯ll go to our place,¡± Marco replied, his broad shoulders lifting in shrug.  ¡°I don¡¯t think Ratty has to worry about going back to his apartment.  If anything was going to happen, it would have happened before now.¡±  The big man came to a stop then, turning to look at Rathaniel while they waited for the mag-lift to open. ¡°But there¡¯s no reason to take unnecessary chances.  Dexter lives a few doors down from Rath¡¯s place.  We can ask him to keep an eye out for any unexpected visitors.¡±


    A frown tugged at the corner of Rath¡¯s lips when Marco mentioned his neighbor¡¯s name.  Expecting his reaction, Mary was already studying him with a side-eyed stare while she tried to contain the smile that bloomed across her face.  Knowing he¡¯d been caught, Rath tried to smooth his expression with a bored yawn.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Rat-tee,¡±  Mary said, her sing-song soprano accenting each syllable like a child reciting a nursery rhyme.  ¡°Aren¡¯t you glad your bestie, Dex the Flex, is going to be there to look after you?  I bet we''ll find him with Kirsta!  They have spent an awful lot of time together lately.  I wonder why?¡±


    ¡°Dex the Flex?,¡±  Rath said, a dubious look written across his face as he regarded the young woman..  Mary returned his skepticism with a self-satisfied grin.


    ¡°It¡¯s what all the girls call him,¡±  Marco said, his typical rumbling baritone replaced by a long suffering sigh. His visible relief when the doors to the mag-lift opened was a sure sign that the events of the day had worn on the stoic man. ¡°They call him that because of that thing he does where he crosses his arm and clenches and relaxes his bicep.¡±


    ¡°I guess it''s a nervous tick or something,¡±  Mary said, entering the two meter by two meter mag-lift with a pirouette that sent her shoulder length ringlets a whorl.  ¡°We probably shouldn¡¯t make fun of him for it,¡±  the young woman conceded, ¡°but he probably shouldn¡¯t act like every woman in the city is tripping over herself to get reprimanded for unlicensed contact.¡±  As the doors closed behind the two men, she hunched her slender shoulders forward and stuck out her tongue.  ¡°Yuck. It¡¯s gross.  He¡¯s gross.¡±


    Rathaniel was still mouthing Dexter¡¯s unfortunate nickname when Marco rose to the absent man¡¯s defense. ¡°He¡¯s not that bad, Mary.¡±  The blonde man¡¯s calloused fingers deftly punched in their destination on the keypad set into one wall of the lift.   Marco waited until they felt the lift begin its silent ascent before continuing, ¡°He gets nervous.  It doesn¡¯t help that some of your friends are convinced every man in the city is tripping over themselves to get reprimanded.¡°


    Rath noted Marco¡¯s tired tone as well as the silent glare Mary cast at her paramour¡¯s back.  Apparently this was a well rehearsed argument between the two.  Eager to avoid the sore subject, he tried to steer the conversation in a more constructive direction.  There were things that they needed to discuss before they got surrounded by their other friends.


    ¡°Is there anything we need to leave out of our story today?,¡±  Rath said, his hazel eyes drifting from Mary to Marco while trying to gauge their reactions.


    Mary¡¯s reaction was as aggressive as it was predictable.  She was already turning toward him before he could finish. She pursed her lips into a thin, pale line and her brown eyes gleamed with the anticipation of lashing out at a new target. ¡°Oh no.  No, no, no, Ratty.  I can¡¯t wait to tell Krista about that analyst tramp.¡±  The petite young woman planted her hands on her hips and leaned forward threateningly, as if daring Rathaniel to try and dissuade her.


    Rath looked toward Marco only to find the other man wearing the widest grin he¡¯d ever seen on his quiet friend¡¯s face.  Out of sight behind the fiery young woman, Marco had the gall to give Rath an encouraging thumbs up for sacrificing himself upon the altar of Mary¡¯s wrath.  Reflex made him roll his eyes at the other man¡¯s antics.  Rath immediately regretted his response when an indignant shriek reverberated through the lift like the sound of a stone gecko being startled awake from its nap.


    ¡°Did you roll your eyes at me?!,¡± Mary fumed, oblivious to her paramour¡¯s shaking shoulders as he struggled to keep from laughing at Rathaniel¡¯s plight.  ¡°It¡¯s not my fault you couldn¡¯t keep your hands to yourself.¡±


    When the lift came to a stop, it took all Rath¡¯s restraint to keep himself from diving through the door as it hissed open.  Marco was the first to depart, followed by Mary after the vengeful woman released a haughty sniff.  Trailing behind her like a chastised child, Rath groaned in frustration, ¡°Come on, Mary.  This has nothing to do with Abigail.  I don¡¯t care about any of that so tell Krista whatever you want.  We have more important things to worry about right now.  Or did you forget that Jared is still in custody and we haven¡¯t figured out how to get him out?


    It was Mary¡¯s turn to look like a sulking child.  When Rathaniel mentioned their incarcerated friend the young woman wilted.  In silence, the trio let several moments pass while they each gathered their thoughts.


    Unlike the lobby below, the familiar hallway lacked even a token gesture toward aesthetic appeal. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all uniformly molded from the same gray concrete. The brutal utilitarian construction was augmented by coldlights set into the ceiling and evenly spaced doors lining both walls.  Each door had an identification number carved into it along with a name plate made of removable tiles.  Once a room was assigned to a citizen, it was their home for the duration of their tenure within Nox.  The only exceptions were the lucky few who received approval for a cohabitation license.  For most, the apartment granted to them upon graduation from the Dormitory would be their only home until they left the city walls.  Age and the onset of infirmity would eventually evict them from the residential towers.  Then, as a reward for a lifetime of service, they would relocate to one of the five outposts outside the city. There, among the rest of the aging population, they would spend the last of their time within Magna Spelunca guarding the land beyond the walls.  After all, there were dangers that lurked in the dark and Nox was loath to risk citizenry in their prime when the city had a much more disposable population segment available for the task..


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Marco broke the silence, his voice pitched low so as not to be overheard through the doors lining both sides of the hallway.  ¡°I think the potential danger is what worries Rath,¡±  the blonde man said..  ¡°We know they pinched Jared because he was associated with Ovie.  If they do the same to the people who associate with Rath, or us, then we¡¯re putting everyone in danger by telling them about what¡¯s going on.¡±


    There was a molten hue of Mary¡¯s brown eyes when she turned toward Marco. The bitter scowl twisting her lips was enough to make Marco lift his palms in surrender. ¡°I¡¯m not saying that we should keep everything to ourselves.  For light¡¯s sake, we¡¯re still walking toward Krista¡¯s place.  Take a moment and think, Mary,¡±  Marco continued, a rare note of exasperation entering his rumbling voice.  ¡°Rath is saying he¡¯s worried we could be putting our friends in danger.  And he¡¯s right.  We could be doing exactly that.  It still may be the correct thing to do, but we should all recognize that we are bringing the attention of the Keepers and the Administrators right to Krista¡¯s doorstep.¡±


    To the surprise of both men, Mary came to a complete stop.  Without a word, the slender woman unzipped her white coveralls down to her waist and tugged first one arm, then the other, from its sleeves.  With the synthcloth of her coveralls gathered at her waist, Mary cinched the sleeves together in a tight knot against her stomach.   This left the young woman clad in a sleeveless shirt who¡¯s thin material clung to her body, for a top and the rugged jumpsuit from the waist down.  Wearing her uniform, even her rec whites, like this in public would be borderline indecent.  But to Mary, and all the rest of the labor caste with an apartment here, Sector C Building Four was not a public place.  It  was a home.


    ¡°Jared is a member of the labor caste, Marco,¡± Mary said, her slender fingers fussing with the hem of her shirt.  After arranging the sleeves of her coveralls to expose the right amount of bare tummy, she continued, ¡°We¡¯re not bringing trouble to Krista or anyone else. Because trouble is already here.  This isn¡¯t Jared¡¯s trouble, or Ovid¡¯s trouble, or Rathaniel¡¯s trouble, it¡¯s our trouble.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Rathaniel said, feeling Mary¡¯s gaze flicker over him when, like Marco, he slid halfway out of his coveralls.  The men wore the same sleeveless shirts beneath their uniforms, each one tight enough that you could see the hint of muscle slithering dangerously beneath their skin when they moved.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if everyone will agree,"  Rath said, struggling to articulate his feelings.  "They deserve the chance to decide for themselves if they want to be involved in this.  That¡¯s the only fair thing to do for them, for Jared, and for us.¡±


    Marco nodded in silent agreement before one of his long arms slid around Mary¡¯s shoulder.  Like a python, the big man¡¯s arm tightened around his paramour with a predatory grace.  With a smile Mary slipped her slim arm around Marco¡¯s waist.


    In an unspoken agreement the trio ended the discussion and resumed the trek down the hall.  Twice they heard doors opening and closing behind them before arriving at the second to last door on the left.  When they arrived the men hesitated for several heartbeats before Mary released a strangled sound of impatience.


    ¡°Krista!  Get dressed and open up!,¡±  Mary¡¯s voice ricocheted down the long hallway.  To make matters worse, the heavy thump of her open palm hammered against the metal door with every word.


    When the door opened, a squirming Mary was struggling to escape from the grip of the men flanking her.  A wide-eyed Rathaniel held one of Mary''s wrists while a nonplussed Marco held the other.  In the time it took the woman opening the door to assess the situation, Mary''s captors released her. Unflappable as always, Marco offered a greeting as if Mary shouting in the hallway were a common occurrence.


    ¡°We were hoping you¡¯d be home,¡±  the big man said.  ¡°It¡¯s been a busy morning and there¡¯s a few things we thought you should know.  Do you mind if we come in?¡±


    ¡°Sure.  Yeah.  Come on in.  It''s going to be a little crowded.¡±  The tall blonde woman replied, her sparkling sapphire eyes regarding Marco and Mary intently before settling on Rathaniel.  Still watching him, she stepped back and motioned them inside with regal wave of her hand.


    While Marco and Mary stepped through the threshold, Rathaniel allowed himself a moment to study Krista Claybourne.  Shoulder length locks the color of spun gold framed her heart-shaped face.  Plush lips and a button nose only seemed to accentuate the allure of her deep blue eyes. The color of uncut gemstones, those beautiful eyes sparkled with both intellect and concern.   Krista wore the same white shirt as Mary, its snug fit accentuating the natural curves of her body and leaving little of her toned physique to the imagination.  The shorts she wore were also a snug fit, covering everything from her navel to the middle of her thighs in tight synthcloth.  Like her arms, her pale legs were the toned products of life within the labor caste.


    When she smiled at him Rathaniel couldn¡¯t resist the impulse to do the same.  For the first time today a genuine smile, unshackled with anxiety or guilt, tugged at the corners of his lips.  When he stepped through the threshold he finally felt safe and comfortable,


    Those feelings, along with the smile on his lips, withered and died when he stepped past Krista and saw Dexter.  Like the lady of the house, Dexter wore a simple synthcloth shirt along with a pair of shorts in rec white.  He was as heavily muscled as Marco, every inch of his body etched in tight knots of corded muscle.  The laborer stood several centimeters shorter than Krista, giving him an even stockier look than the one Marco presented.


    Rathaniel actually didn¡¯t know Dexter¡¯s last name because the man had never introduced himself. Rath never bothered to ask anyone else.  Since the first day they¡¯d met, several mensis ago, in this very apartment, Dexter had been abrasive and confrontational of anything and everything Rath said or done.  Krista and the rest seemed to think the two men needed to get to know one another better.  One look at Dexter¡¯s strained smile and flinty blue eyes told Rath that the last thing the other man wanted was to get to know him better.


    ¡°Well look what the lizard brought home,¡±  Dexter said, clapping his hands once with an enthusiasm that felt forced to Rathaniel.  ¡°What brings you all by?  Krista and I were getting ready to take a nap.¡±


    ¡°Dex was getting ready for a nap,¡±  Krista interjected smoothly, guiding Rath to the side so she could step around him and take hold of Mary¡¯s hand.  As she led the other woman across the room toward the only two seats in the apartment, she continued in her usually lighthearted soprano voice, ¡°I was going to the city center.  I knew you two were already there and I thought I might catch Jerry and Rath after their shuffle.¡±


    As Krista finished, she and Mary settled onto the room¡¯s two stools.  Like every apartment in the residential building, the place Krista called home was slightly larger than the mag-lift they¡¯d taken up to her floor.  A hammock, currently occupied by Dexter, hung in one far corner.  The other housed a sonic shower that let residents  scour away anything on their skin that their nanites couldn¡¯t recycle.  The only other item in the room was the small table that Mary and Krista had claimed for themselves.  The space was small enough that it felt cramped with the five of them all inside, but typically a citizen didn¡¯t need much private space.  Water and food rationing meant that meals were never eaten anywhere besides a public distributor.  For most citizens, of any caste, their apartment was little more than a place to sleep between work shifts.


    ¡°I think I should start at the beginning.¡±  Rath said, ignoring the way Dexter crossed his arms and the smirk that flashed across Mary¡¯s lips.  Marco leaned back against the door to give Rath as much space as he could. ¡°Jared and I met at the Administration building for our shuffle today.  While we were waiting, he started talking about Ovid.¡±


    For the fourth time, and hopefully the last, Rathaniel shared the details of his shuffle and the reasons behind Jared¡¯s incarceration.  Mary only tried to interrupt once when Rath was covering the trip on the tram. The thunderous look Marco shot her way caused the troublemaker to fall silent.  Rathaniel was surprised that she didn¡¯t try harder to steer the conversation toward his interaction with Abigail.  He was also surprised that he managed to go through the whole story without feeling the anger and resentment that had been ever present since this morning.  Perhaps it was the luxury of time that let him set aside his fury.  Or perhaps it was the Keeper¡¯s words outside the residential building that had quenched his rage.


    ¡°What does any of that have to do with us?,¡±  Dexter said, his right bicep twitching as he spoke.  ¡°Seems to me Ovid was messing around with something he shouldn¡¯t have been and got caught by the Keepers.  He told Jared about it and it got him pinched, too.¡±


    Dexter leaned back into the hammock, letting a sharp gaze, like chipped ice, slice from one intruder to the other. ¡°Now you¡¯re here telling us about it.  So what do you want? To get us reprimanded?,¡±  he said, ending his words with a challenging stare toward Marco.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to hear what we have to say, you can leave.  Then we¡¯ll finish our conversation with our friend.¡±  The venom in Rathaniel¡¯s voice surprised everyone in the room, even himself.  His barbed words drew a physical reaction from Dexter.  The stocky man leaned back, sucking in a sharp breath through his pearly white teeth.  Out of the corner of his eye Rath noticed Krista¡¯s frown and the way Mary¡¯s brows knit together.


    ¡°You gonna make me leave, Rat boy?,¡±  Dexter said, his lips twisting in a sardonic parody of a smile.  With the grace of a gymnast, the blonde man slid from the hammock and snapped his thick neck first to the left, then to the right, each time eliciting an audible crack of popping vertebrae.


    ¡°Rath isn¡¯t going to do anything, Dex.  And neither are you.¡±  Marco made no move to step away from the door, but the big man did shift, giving the impression of a rock slide that could come roaring down a mountain at the slightest provocation.  ¡°We¡¯re here to talk.  The sooner you let Krista talk the sooner we¡¯ll all go home.¡±


    Sensing her chance, the blonde woman spoke up from her seat by the table, ¡°I¡¯m glad you came to me, Rathaniel.  It breaks my heart that Jared got taken into custody.  You know he taught me everything I needed to know the first time I pulled park duty on service day?  He¡¯s one of the best of us, no matter what the Blankets say about him.¡±  Krista leaned forward then, hooking her feet into the legs of the stool and placing her palms on her knees as she continued, ¡°What can we do though?  I understand that this may not be his fault, but all that stuff is way out of our control, isn¡¯t it?  We¡¯re laborers, Rath.¡±


    Rath would have felt crushed at Krista¡¯s words if Dexter¡¯s satisfied smirk hadn¡¯t ignited his entire world in a furious red haze.  Unbidden, his right hand clenched and he felt his ONI begin to heat up the same way it had outside the Admin building when Jerrry was arrested.  The change in his body language when he mechanically pivoted to face Dexter was enough to erase the other man¡¯s smirk.  Before Rath could move further, he felt Marco¡¯s heavy hand settle on his shoulder.  He tried to shrug out of the restraint, but Marco¡¯s vise-like grip was not so easily deterred.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long day and all three of us are tired,¡±  Mary said, reaching an empty hand across the table which Krista quickly filled with her own.  Mary continued to speak, her soothing tone directed at Rath, though her eyes focused on Krista as they laced their fingers together.  ¡°We don¡¯t know what we can do.  Not yet, anyway.  What we need from you, from everyone, is information.  We think that if we can find Ovid he can exonerate Jared.  At the very least, he can tell us what he did to get the Keepers attention.¡±  The petite woman squeezed Krista¡¯s hand once, firmly, before rising to her feet. ¡°Can you do that for us, Kris?  Ask around.  Someone has to have seen Ovid.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do anything I can, you know that.¡±  Krista avoided looking at Dexter¡¯s scowl.  Instead she let her gaze drift toward the fuming Rathaniel.  ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see some of our friends at the city center this evening.  I¡±ll ask around.  I got shuffled to the vertical farms so maybe some of the others on that work detail knew him.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Krista.  That¡¯s all we could ask.¡±  Marco¡¯s quiet baritone held a note of finality that was punctuated by the sound of the door¡¯s latch being thrown open.  As Krista stood up, Mary took the opportunity to throw her arms around her friend in a greedy hug.  After a few murmured promises to see each other soon, Mary took her cue and slipped through the open doorway with Marco trailing along right behind her.


    Rathaniel had already turned to step toward the door when he felt the brush of slender fingertips against the back of his hand.  Startled, Rath was still blinking the surprise from his hazel eyes when he turned toward the beautiful blonde woman.


    ¡°You should stop by after work tomorrow.¡±  In a moment of deja vu, Rath found it difficult to focus beyond the enchanting eyes of a captivating woman.  ¡°The farms are closer than the mines, so I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be home before you.  Maybe I¡¯ll find someone who¡¯s talked to Ovie.¡±


    ¡°Bye, Ratty.  Thanks for the visit,¡±  Dexter called from the back of the apartment, his voice causing Krista¡¯s smile to thin into a pale line.


    Rather than acknowledge Dex, Rath flashed Krista a thankful smile to accompany his quick, decisive nod.  ¡°Will do.  Thanks for being here, Kris.  I knew I could count on you.¡±  With that, he tore his gaze away and stepped through the doorway into the hall beyond.


    The door shut behind him and the trio of laborers were alone again.   Thankfully, since they were at the far end of the hall, they could take a different set of mag-lifts to their own floors.  Mary didn¡¯t even have time to finish complaining about Dex the Flex before they were standing in front of the lifts  saying their goodbyes.


    Mary clung to him a bit too tightly and Marco¡¯s grip during the handshake they shared was uncomfortably firm.  He knew they meant well and he appreciated their concern more than he¡¯d ever be able to convey.  Rathaniel knew he¡¯d relied on their support today.  He also knew, as the lift doors hissed shut to carry him up to his floor, that he¡¯d need their support even more tomorrow and in the days to come.


    Because tomorrow would be the day they begin to fight back.

 1.6

    Rathaniel Bright had a dream. In it, he roamed the streets of Nox in search of something that he felt was right around the corner but never quite managed to find. The rigorous grid work of his home was a maze of curved roads and abrupt dead ends. A sinister red glow blanketed the entire world. Non-Euclidean streets curled around buildings that sprouted from the ground like vegetables in an overcrowded garden. Over and over again, Rath raced through the corridors of his dreamscape. He searched, in vain, while fleeing from a dark, amorphous shape that hounded his steps through the city. After each dream he awoke, bathed in sweat and gasping for breath. Wide eyed and desperate, he fought back the sensation of suffocating beneath cloud of black dust.


    Safe in the wane light of his room, the details of the dream slipped away from him like water through an open palm. Only the sound of the cloud as it approached remained long after he woke. It was a buzzing, vibrating sound, like the world¡¯s largest mag-lift descending to ferry him into oblivion.


    Rath decided to give up on sleep after the third time he jerked himself awake so violently that he almost spilled out of his hammock. Struggling for breath, Rathaniel¡¯s eyes darted to each corner of the room in search of the vibrating cloud that would squeeze the life from him again. It was only after a second hurried inspection that he could admit he was alone in his spartan apartment. Still exhausted, he swung himself from the hammock and stumbled into the sonic shower to rid himself of the clammy sweat clinging to his bare skin.


    After slipping into a clean uniform, Rathaniel checked the time on his ONI. It was earlier than he would usually leave to make the trek to the Sector C mines, but he was too restless to stay in his apartment. The tall laborer drug a comb through his short black hair, slid into his heavy boots, and stepped out into the hallway. Unlike most mornings, Rath was eager to leave his hammock behind.


    The day cycle in Nox was as arbitrary as it was esoteric. As with everywhere in the Sunless Lands, there was no sun, stars, or sky to mark the passage from one day to the next. Instead, the thirty hour day consisted of two fifteen hour allotments that kept the city thriving at all times. The beginning and end of those half day allotments, called quindecim, were the busiest times in the city. That was when the shifts changed from one group of citizens to the next.


    Rathaniel was in no hurry as he strolled down the street toward the tram terminal. The odd intuition that someone was watching tempted him to hasten his steps. He managed to disregard the paranoia as the manifestation of an overactive, and over stressed, mind. Instead, he kept to his unhurried pace and tried to use the time alone to quell the anxiety plaguing him.


    Since Rath was on his way to the mines, he was among the first wave sleepy of citizens trudging along the street. Well on his way to the tram, he saw several of his fellow commuters slow their steps only to set off again at a brisk pace. Half a block later, Rath saw the reason why and came to a stop to study what he saw painted across the drab concrete.


    Illuminated by the coldlight glow of a street lamp, Rath saw a bold graffiti sketch scrawled across an otherwise nondescript wall. He''d seen graffiti before. Even this particular tag. It was a small black circle superimposed on a larger yellow one. Only a sliver yellow remained, outlining the border of the black circle like a halo of light. Rathaniel had never seen a sun, or any moons, but he knew what the crude drawing represented. An eclipse. It was a ghost story told to children in the Dormitories. Malcontent and maladjusted, the worst of the city gathered around the mark of Eclipse like flies around a compost heap. It was all nonsense to Rath. He''d never met anyone who claimed to be some kind of radical revolutionary. It was unusual to see graffiti like this on a main avenue but that didn''t make it any more significant than the sketches in the back alleys. He would bet good credits that the mastermind behind this drawing was some young laborer blowing off steam at a bad shuffle or the denial of a cohabitation license. It might seem scandalous, but, in the end, it was a harmless bit of anarchy.


    Feeling eyes upon him again, Rath turned from the graffiti and picked up the pace toward the tram. He had quite a trip ahead of him, after all. Like the laborers bound for the aquifer, or the metal works, he would have one of the longest commutes of the day. The lucky ones who were working more centralized jobs, like the vertical farms or even the sewers, were still tucked away in their hammocks. A jagged pang of jealousy sliced through him, but the memories of his disturbing dreams immediately quashed that feeling. As he climbed the stairs to the well lit terminal, he admitted to himself that he was happy to have an excuse to leave the apartment early.


    His early departure also gave him time to consider the next potential pitfall in his day. A beautiful, red haired pitfall with green eyes and a mischievous smile. Yesterday had been too eventful to dwell on Analyst Abigail Summers, but that didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d forgotten the self-assured young woman. Far from it, he found himself agonizing over her invitation while he took his place in line among the other gray clad laborers. Rathaniel wanted to believe that Abigail¡¯s interest was genuine. No one could spend much time around Mary and Marco without wishing they had the kind of relationship the power couple enjoyed. Unfortunately, every time Abigail crossed his mind a voice, that sounded alarmingly like Mary¡¯s, chided him for his naivety. Abigail¡¯s coincidental arrival and her questions about the Laborer shuffle made him skeptical of her sincerity. It felt like she had an ulterior motive, but Rath couldn¡¯t put his finger on what it could be. In the end, as the tram slowed to a stop alongside the crowded terminal, Rath decided he couldn¡¯t get involved with anyone right now. On any level. Who knew when his next conversation with a Peace Keeper might take place. Who knew how it would go, or who it would affect. Abigail deserved to be more than just another name on his list of known associates. No matter how low Mary¡¯s opinion of her may be.


    When the lights above the steel platform shifted from red to green, Rathaniel shook himself out of his introspection. Once again he felt eyes watching him, but the inexorable press of the crowd around forced him to shuffle toward the waiting tram. He tried to scan the terminal, but the jostling crowd made it impossible to tell if anyone was watching him with more than a casual interest. After the Peace Keeper followed him yesterday, it was growing more and more difficult to convince himself that his misgivings were a figment of his imagination. Rath could only hope that his paranoia was a holdover from his sleepless night.


    The gleaming silver car he stepped into was far more crowded than the one he¡¯d taken home from the shuffle. A quick glance showed that it was standing room only inside the tram. While not unheard of, was an unpleasant addition to what had already been an unpleasant trip. He tried to thread his way deeper into the crowd, but after a few scowls and one cranky woman drawing back her fist, he gave up getting any further away from the door. With an apologetic smile, he turned to offer a helpless shrug to the person behind him. The man shot Rathaniel a thunderous frown, but after a quick study of Rath¡¯s broad shouldered and athletic frame, he decided to leg it toward a car further down the platform. Rath wished him the best as he turned his back toward the door.


    Several awkward minutes passed then with Rathaniel standing less than two steps inside the threshold of the door. When the portal hissed shut, he found himself thanking the light for the first piece of good luck he¡¯d had since arriving at his apartment last night. Rath dared to hope that his luck was making a turn for the better.


    His positive outlook proved to be short-lived. The sound of the tram engaging reminded him of the death cloud that had stalked him through his dreams. The sound was so eerily similar that he felt a cold sweat across his shoulders. The moment passed once the tram lurched forward and the vibrating hum quieted to near silence. His lingering anxiety spiked again when the people beside him began to shift and press further up the aisle despite the agitated protests from those standing ahead. At that moment, a childish part of Rathaniel truly believed the black dust had followed him through the city to attack when he had nowhere to run. Unable to contain his curiosity, Rathaniel tuned his head, his face white as a recreation uniform. The tall laborer''s pale hazel eyes settled on the smooth, reflective mask of a Peace Keeper moving to stand in the aisle behind him. Rath stifled a groan at the sight of a very different kind of monster than the one he''d been expecting.


    Rathaniel despised the shocked expression he saw reflected by the Keeper¡¯s mask. Despite everything he¡¯d gone through yesterday, he¡¯d let thoughts of pretty analysts and scary dreams distract him from actual danger. You didn''t have to delve into the world of frightening dreams to find powerful enemies that could crush you. Those kinds of monsters walked the concrete streets of Nox in blue uniforms the color of a deep bruise. His heart thundered like a drop hammer echoing through a smokey foundry. How could he have missed the blue uniform? Now he knew why the people in the car had been so tense when he¡¯d stepped inside.


    ¡°May I have your attention,¡± the Keeper said in their modulated voice. ¡°By order of the City of Nox, I have come to interview person of interest about a recent crime. In the interest of containing any information that comes to light, I will be deploying an auditory suppression field. There is no need for alarm,¡± the law enforcer continued, ¡°your hearing will return to normal. Any nausea you feel will fade with time. May the beacon guide you all.¡±


    Most of the tram¡¯s occupants were ignoring the Keeper and the poor laborer that was the target of their attention. Rathaniel could see the anger and resentment written upon the faces of the crowd around him. A wave of irritation radiated through the people like the ripple of a pond when a stone breaks its smooth surface. For a moment Rathaniel thought his frustration, along with some of the others, might boil over into aggressive action. He thought wrong.


    Rathaniel was watching the Keeper when they tapped out a short sequence on their datapad. A wave of vertigo immediately rushed through him, causing him to sway on his feet. He wasn¡¯t the only one struggling to maintain his balance. All across the car he could see laborers slumping in their seats, clawing at a rail, a seat, or each other, to keep themselves upright. The Keeper ignored the chaos they¡¯d wrought and turned back to address Rathaniel. Their head bobbed, but if they spoke Rath heard not a word of it. Like the rest of the passengers on the tram, Rath didn¡¯t hear anything at all. The nanites in his body had no choice but to follow a directive issued from someone with administrator privileges. In the blink of an eye, the very system that helped keep him alive had completely deprived him of his hearing.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Still reeling from the nanite induced vertigo, Rath saw the Keeper tap out a series of keystrokes on his datapad again. Rath flinched when a wave of sound filled his world once more. He could now hear everything from angry mutters to soft sobs. A moment later the modulated voice of the Keeper joined the cacophony of misery.


    ¡°Rathaniel Bright. The Eternal Council believes that you have important information regarding the disappearance of Ovid Brakeman. Are you willing to discuss the details here or should I remand you into custody?¡±


    ¡°If I knew anything, I¡¯d have told the administrators at the shuffle yesterday.¡± Rathaniel spat the words with more emotion than he¡¯d intended. The rage he¡¯d worked so hard to smother yesterday blossomed into a roaring inferno from the embers still smoldering in the pit of his stomach. The boiling heat stiffened his spine and twisted his lips into a feral snarl. Rath was aware that he was losing himself in the storm of emotion swirling through him. That same piece of his consciousness was also aware that he no longer cared about self control.


    ¡°There was a Keeper following me yesterday. If your caste thought I knew something, why didn¡¯t he interrogate me?,¡± Rathaniel growled, gesturing curtly toward the miserable crowd around them. ¡°At least then this injustice could have happened on an empty street instead of a packed tram.¡±


    ¡°Falsehoods about the actions of the Peace Keepers will not help you, Laborer Bright.¡± Though their mirrored mask made it impossible to discern any facial expressions, the way they tilted their head to one side while they studied Rathaniel spoke volumes. ¡°I am the first law enforcement official to approach you since the shuffle.¡±


    Rath¡¯s pale hazel eyes closed in a slow blink, the tall man rocking back as if the Keeper¡¯s words had physically struck him. He¡¯d expected any number of responses, but disbelief hadn¡¯t been on the list. If the law enforcer hadn¡¯t followed Rath to the edges of the city to watch him then what had they been doing? It was all but guaranteed that a few of the laborers living in building four had shuffled into the law enforcement caste, at some point. More than likely, there were some secretly operating as Keepers right now. The catch was that those very same operatives would never be caught in uniform that close to the apartments they lived in. There were detention facilities throughout the inner city where caste members swapped in and out of the dark blue Keeper uniforms. The secrecy within that political police was such that even the Keepers themselves never knew the name or caste of their coworkers. The foundation of the law enforcement caste was the precept that any person in the city could be working to exert , and inform, the will of Nox. Someone breaking that protocol and intentionally leaking their identity would be tantamount to treason.


    The thought of a Peace Keeper doing unsanctioned work was enough of a shock to quell some of his blistering anger. Who knew what sort of problems a rogue Keeper could cause? Rathaniel was trying to unravel that tangled knot of an idea when a scuffle in the crowd caught his attention. Before he could investigate that disturbance, the sound of the Keeper tapping at his datapad brought Rath''s attention back to the figure in blue.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, I was followed for the entire trip home. From the minute I set foot on the tram until I returned to my apartment.¡± Rath combed his fingers through his dark hair as he spoke in a clipped, aggressive tone. ¡°By the depthless dark, check the security footage. That should be simple enough. I bet you can even have the feed relayed into your datapad right now.¡±


    The Keeper remained focused on their datapad while they replied, ¡°Your statement has been entered into the record, citizen.¡± The modulated monotone voice continued as their gloved fingers danced across the datapad¡¯s interface. ¡°The presence of a surveillance officer yesterday, if there actually was one, is irrelevant to the interview today. You will now answer this state inquiry to my satisfaction or I will take you into custody for nanite retrieval.¡±


    ¡°Jared Kline¡¯s nanite review has proven that he witnessed Ovid Brakeman¡­,¡± The Keeper trailed off as they turned toward the growing commotion in the crowd. No sooner had they turned than a short, blonde man got expelled from the crowd. The familiar figure approached the Keeper with a harsh light of determination gleaming in his cold blue eyes. Dexter¡¯s lurching steps came to a halt an arms length from where a slack jawed Rathaniel stood next to the law enforcer.


    ¡°You¡¯re talking about Jared, right! And Ovid! Give my hearing back to me and I¡¯ll tell you everything you want to know!,¡± Dexter screamed toward the mirrored mask of the Keeper, one hand rubbing his temple while the other curled its fingers into a death grip around the rail above.


    ¡°Dexter,¡± Rathaniel began, forgetting that the other man had been stricken deaf by the law enforcer. ¡°You don¡¯t want to be involved in this.¡± Rath reached out to put a steadying hand on Dexter¡¯s shoulder only for the smaller man to shrug away from his touch.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me, Rat boy. I knew you''d lead me straight to the Keepers if I followed you,¡± the blonde laborer sneered past lips twisted into a snarl. Dexter¡¯s narrowed eyes swept over Rathaniel in an open threat before his attention returned to the Keeper. ¡°I know more about Ovid than this piece of bat shit. I¡¯m the one you want to talk to.¡±


    The Keeper¡¯s mirrored mask remained still for several moments while he regarded the two men. It wasn¡¯t until he saw Rath¡¯s jaw clench to match the curling of his fingers into a fist that the Keeper tapped in a new set of commands on his datapad. The effect on Dexter was instantaneous. One moment the man was glaring at Rathaniel from a queasy slouch. In the next, Dexter was rising to his full height with his glare replaced by a triumphant smirk.


    ¡°Now, Dexter Moss,¡± the law enforcer began, ¡°tell me why your information is more valuable than Laborer Bright¡¯s? For that matter, why shouldn¡¯t I bring you both into custody?¡±


    ¡°Rat boy here doesn¡¯t know anything.¡± Dexter¡¯s voice dripped with confidence. He began to fastidiously straighten the gray coveralls he wore while he addressed the masked Keeper. ¡°It''s been several mensis since he¡¯s even seen Ovid. Last night he admitted he didn¡¯t know what Ovid had been doing. But I know exactly what that fungus for brains has been up to.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing, Dexter?,¡± Rath asked, a strained note entering his voice. It felt like he was seeing an accident happen from across the foundry floor when there was nothing he could do to stop it.


    ¡°I¡¯m making a deal. They have a problem that I can help them with,¡± Dexter said, not bothering to turn back and face the taller laborer. The blonde man crossed his arms while he continued, his bicep flexing rhythmically while he spoke. ¡°I figure if I help them with their trouble they can help me with mine."


    ¡°I am an agent of Nox. You have an obligation as a citizen to render whatever aid I require of you.¡± The Keeper¡¯s droning voice held no anger, or amusement. It was the empty voice of imminent authority. ¡°It is presumptuous of you to believe that I have any motivation to ¡®help¡¯ you with anything.¡±


    ¡°Sure. You could take me into custody and drag me to one of your safe houses. You could even take Rat boy too, for all the good it would do you.¡± Dexter said, gesturing over his shoulder with an extended thumb. ¡°But that¡¯s a ton of hassle. Instead, if you help me get one little thing you can have the cooperation of the guy who knows more than any other citizen in the city. The choice seems pretty simple to me, Keeper.¡±


    Rathaniel was so focused on the conversation that he barely noticed the lights change inside the tram to indicate the approaching stop. There were so many conflicting emotions surging through him that he didn¡¯t know how to feel about the tangent this encounter had taken. He hated the part of himself that felt relieved that the Keeper¡¯s attention was focused on someone else. He also felt the simmering rage begin to bubble up inside him again while he listened to what Dexter had to say.


    ¡°Dexter, you don¡¯t have to do this. Think about Krista. You don¡¯t want to drag her into the middle of whatever this is.¡± Rath tried again, failing spectacularly in his attempt to restrain the irritation that lent a warning growl to his voice.


    ¡°Krista is exactly what I¡¯m thinking about,¡± the other man hissed, whirling around to face Rathaniel as the tram came to a stop. ¡°You don¡¯t know me, Rat boy.¡± One of his arms rose, tapping against Rath¡¯s broad chest to punctuate each word he spoke ¡°Quit talking like you do or I¡¯ll introduce you to a side of me that you do not want to meet.¡±


    ¡°Citizens, you are wasting the state¡¯s time with your disagreement.¡± Rath could swear he heard a jagged note of disdain in the Keepers voice despite its modulated monotone. The datapad rose once again, sending a wave of palpable relief ricocheting through the car after the Keeper returned hearing and balance to everyone on the tram. ¡°You may consider your interview suspended, Laborer Bright. If necessary, someone from my caste will contact you after Laborer Moss is debriefed. May the beacon guide you.¡±


    The doors to the car slid open with a faint hiss as the Keeper dismissed Rathaniel. With his back to one set of the doors, Rath started to move out of the way until he realized no one was willing to get close enough to the Keeper to use that exit. Instead the group of woozy citizens surged as one toward the other doors. Like a school of gray fish cutting through still water, the crowd rushed toward the other portals. There was no way so many laborers would need to disembark in the Analyst block. They were fleeing the Keeper and the authority they wielded. Rath couldn¡¯t blame them.


    Rathaniel stood still, splitting his attention between the law enforcer¡¯s mirrored mask and the tight-eyed glare Dexter was casting his way. There had to be some way to salvage this. If he couldn¡¯t stop Dexter from talking to the Keeper, maybe he could, at least, find out what Dexter knew. Or what he wanted so much that he was willing to betray their friends.


    Rath waited until the last of his fellow citizens stumbled out onto the waiting terminal before he spoke. ¡°Look, this is all a misunderstanding. I don¡¯t know what Ovid did, but¡­¡±


    That was as far as Rathaniel made it before he felt a hard tug on the back of his coveralls. An embarrassing yelp leapt from his lips as his arms pinwheeled to try and maintain his balance when he stumbled backwards through the door. Despite his best efforts, Rath¡¯s backside fell to the cold steel platform of the terminal, leaving him to land in a graceless sprawl. Wincing at the throb of pain in his hip, Rath had just enough time to lever himself onto an elbow before the tram door slid shut. With an electric hum, so similar to the black cloud in his dreams, the tram shot forward carrying Dexter, the Keeper, and their conversation away.


    Still sprawled across the platform, he watched, in a daze, as the tram slid by for several heartbeats. Eventually, his pale hazel eyes took the time to look for what, or who, had pulled him off the tram. The sight of a certain red haired analyst striking her hands together as if she were knocking the dust from her slender fingers pulled a groan from his lips.


    Abigail Summers looked down at him, closing one twinkling emerald eye in a playful wink.


    ¡°How was that for a rescue?,¡± She purred, offering him her hand with a smile that shone as bright as a Helios tower.

 1.7

    ¡°It would be shiny if you thanked me for rescuing you,¡±  Abigail said, arms crossed and lips pressed into a pout.


    The red haired woman regally reclined against one of the steel light posts inside the analyst''s district tram terminal.  Like a queen at her court, Abigail surveyed her bustling kingdom with imperial disdain. Her arms were laid across her chest in what could have been a suggestive pose if it weren¡¯t for the narrow eyed glare she directed Rath¡¯s way.  The righteous indignation in her glare was the only reason no one in the crowd struck up a conversation with the beautiful analyst. Several men and women slowed their steps toward the tram and summoned up their courage only to deflate beneath the woman¡¯s withering gaze.  Rejected, the would be suitors trudged onward toward the tram that slithered by the terminal like a silent silver snake.


    Only one potential paramour withstood Abigail¡¯s wrath, though he would take issue with the insinuation that he was courting her.  After all, he''d had planned to skip his rendezvous with her altogether.  Rathaniel could see now that telling her he¡¯d planned to stand her up had been ill advised.  Already angry at him for not being properly appreciative of his ''rescue'', she''d grown incised at his confession.  In hindsight, he should have chosen a better opportunity to tell her that his plans went awry.  If he told her at all.


    Rath regretted his decision to share his thoughts about putting her in danger by associating with him.  The laborer found himself regretting a great many things while he tried to placate the lovely lady staring daggers at him.  Despite Rathaniel offering several sincere explanations, Abigail''s emerald eyes continued to spark with barely restrained violence.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t need rescuing, Abigail,¡±  Rath tried again, a martyr¡¯s sigh slipping from his lips. He tore his eyes away from the beautiful woman to stare up into the infinite darkness above.  ¡°I was trying to find out why the Keepers are after Ovid.  Or maybe I could have found out what Dexter wanted them to pay him for being an informant.¡±


    The tall man¡¯s lips pressed into a thin, pale line.  With a sigh, he gave up finding the solutions to his problems in the impenetrable shadows obscuring the far reaches of Magna Spelunca.  ¡°You are right though,¡±  Rathaniel continued, forcing himself to meet her irritated gaze. ¡°Intervening like that was a very brave thing to do.  It could have gotten you into some serious trouble if you¡¯d interfered with the Keepers instead of jerking me off the tram after they dismissed me.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you do that, anyway?,¡±  a smile tugging at the corner of his lips in genuine amusement.  He studiously maintained eye contact despite his impulse to evaluate the supple frame tucked into her green coveralls.  ¡°You don¡¯t look that strong.¡±


    ¡°Your flattery is going to have to be better than that if you want to salvage this date, Ratty,.¡±  the young woman said with a haughty sniff.  ¡°Being late for our shift isn¡¯t going to improve our day though.  We may as well get moving before anything else goes wrong.¡±


    Despite her words, Rathaniel felt a pang of relief at her mollified tone.  He did not relish the thought of riding across Sector C with an angry Abigail beside him.  If an apology and a well deserved compliment was enough to quell her ire, Rath would pay that price.


    Unfortunately, words were only the first installment toward the debt that would haunt him for the foreseeable future.  Abigail had stopped, one arm extended toward him with her fingers wiggling in silent invitation.  When Rathaniel didn¡¯t immediately move to take hold of her offered hand, the analyst tossed an unamused look over her slim shoulder.  Her deadpan expression never changed as she cleared her throat, loudly, before wiggling her fingers again.


    ¡°Come on, Abigail,¡±  Rathaniel whined.  The dark haired laborer anxiously rubbed at the back of his neck while his hazel eyes darted across the terminal to see if they¡¯d acquired an audience.  ¡°We¡¯re in public and¡­and¡­¡±


    The tall laborer let his words trail off when Abigail¡¯s lips began to twist into a frown to match the way her eyebrows started to narrow. Instead of speaking, the young woman beckoned for him with a roll of her wrist. Unwilling to reignite her fury, Rath allowed himself a mournful sigh in honor of his shattered pride.  Without further protest, he laced his long, calloused fingers with her dainty ones.


    Abigail¡¯s face immediately brightened as if she hadn¡¯t been debating the merits of murder a mere heartbeat ago.  ¡°See? That wasn¡¯t so hard, was it?  I knew you could be trained,¡± she finished with a note of smug satisfaction ringing through her alto voice.  Rath would have dropped her hand like a jagged piece of glimmerkriss if she hadn¡¯t tightened her grip.  She was much stronger than he¡¯d have thought possible for a woman of her size.   Unaware of her companion¡¯s reluctance, she turned to begin leading him toward the tram.  ¡°Last night I told Cathy, that¡¯s my best friend, that you¡¯d be worth all the work I¡¯d have to put into you.¡±


    Rathaniel scowled, his own thoughts drifting toward homicide, ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m the one who has things they need to learn. Didn¡¯t they teach you about proper etiquette in the Dormitory you attended?¡±


    The question was purely rhetorical.  The curriculum across the Dormitories was exactly the same.  Hundreds of years of refinement had honed the educational system of Nox into a well oiled machine. It''s sole purpose was to introduce freshly minted adults into the caste they were most suited for.  Cycle after cycle, children grew up beneath the watchful eyes of Magisters that worked tirelessly to ensure their charges respected and appreciated the responsibility of citizenship.


    It was a message repeated early and often considering infants entered the Dorms on the day of their birth.  There wasn¡¯t a parent among the citizens who even so much as knew their child¡¯s name.  Still covered in afterbirth, newborns were immediately taken into the custody of the only parent they¡¯d ever know,  The Citystate of Nox.  The state would go on to name them, feed them, cloth them, house them, and teach them until they reached adulthood.  In return, the citizens of Nox devoted their lives to supporting their city.


    ¡°You¡¯re so stuffy, Ratty,¡±  Abigail said, her purring alto voice taking on the tone of a scolding Magister.   ¡°You¡¯re like a kid so scared of breaking his toy that he refuses to play with it.  Life is for having fun, Rath.  One day you¡¯ll grow old and that toy you¡¯re scared of breaking will shatter anyway.  Before then, take it down off the shelf and enjoy it.¡±


    ¡°I do enjoy my life, Abby,¡±  Rath said, ignoring the way her face scrunched together when he shortened her name.  ¡°It¡¯s hard to live in Magna Spelunca.  Humans weren¡¯t made to spend their lives underground.  Helping the city flourish and  spending time with friends is the most rewarding life a person could live.  What more could anyone want?¡±


    Abigail¡¯s distaste at the abbreviation of her name shifted into a provocative smile at Rath¡¯s question.  Their progress toward the nearby tram halted when she turned to face him.  All it took was a measured step to press herself into his side in a way that made the contours of her body wickedly evident even through the synthcloth coveralls they wore.


    ¡°I wonder,¡± Abigail said, her sultry purr working at full strength. Rising up onto her tiptoes she brought her lips so close to Rath¡¯s ear that he could feel the vibration of her words against his skin.  ¡°What more could anyone want?¡±


    Fortunately for Rathaniel, repeated exposure to Abigail¡¯s charms had substantially improved his resistance to their effect.  The same inviting touch that had turned him into a puddle of hormone laced goop yesterday merely drew a tired sigh from him today.  After untangling his fingers from hers, he leaned back to look straight into her enchanting eyes.


    ¡°Personal space,¡±  Rathaniel said, his words as dry as the sun scorched sand in Magister Sigma¡¯s stories.


    Flummoxed, Abigail could only blink as she rocked back onto her heels.  Her pearly white teeth began to worry at her lower lip while she tried to gauge how serious Rathaniel was.  After a moment¡¯s consideration, the young woman threw her hands up in the air with an undignified huff.


    ¡°You were much more fun yesterday,¡±  she grumbled, abandoning all pretense at being provocative.


    In that moment, with a river of humanity flowing around them, Abigail looked like a completely different person.  Gone was the carefree smile and the mischievous twinkle in her eye.  Instead, there was a cold, clinical detachment in her green gaze, as if she were measuring something of no more consequence than a few benign bacteria in a petri dish.  The sight sent a chill running down his spine.  It was quite uncomfortable to feel dissected like a toad beneath an uncaring scalpel.


    The moment passed and the statuesque cast of her features softened into something human once again.  ¡°Well come on then, Rathaniel,¡±  Abigail said, her tone, once again, the casual, self-assured alto he was familiar with.  ¡°We really will be late if we don¡¯t catch the tram.¡±


    It took Rath a heartbeat to process the sight of the beautiful woman spinning on her heel to march off into the thinning crowd.  In their short friendship, he¡¯d seen many sides of Abigail Summers, but there had been something unnerving about the way she¡¯d looked at him.  He¡¯d expected anger or resentment.  Perhaps he even deserved one, or both, of those reactions.  What he hadn¡¯t expected was the same sort of cold dismissal he¡¯d have used for a glob of mud stuck to the bottom of his boot.


    ¡°You know,¡±  Rath said, taking two quick steps to catch up with Abigail after gathering his scattered wits.  ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so aggressive.  I¡¯m very aware of how beautiful you are whether you tease me or not.¡±


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    The young woman tilted her head up, meeting his gaze with a set of half-lidded eyes as they stepped into the waiting tram.  ¡°A bit presumptuous of you to assume that I¡¯m teasing you for your sake, don¡¯t you think?¡±  The analyst quickly found two unoccupied seats.  Settling daintily into one seat, she playfully patted the empty one beside her.  ¡°Making me out to be a puppet dancing on the strings of your attention is a pretty poor attempt at salvaging this date.¡±


    Rathaniel, already frowning at her words, knit his dark eyebrows together in consternation.  ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that,¡±  he grumbled, taking his seat without argument.  ¡°I meant that you¡¯re obviously smart enough to wear green and you¡¯re brave enough to risk getting on the wrong side of the Keepers.¡±


    ¡°Beautiful, smart, brave,¡±  Rath ticked off each point on his fingers. With each point to the woman''s smile grew until it was so large it might devour him whole. ¡°You have so many amazing qualities. There''s no reason for you to play into being a¡­a¡­,¡±  Rathaniel stumbled, searching for the perfect word but, awkwardly, only Mary¡¯s term leapt to mind.  ¡°...a trollop.¡±


    To his credit, Rath managed to hide his surprise at Abigail¡¯s giggle.  Once she had regained control of her amusement she reached out to place her delicate fingers upon his chest.  Her elegant digits toyed with the zipper of his coveralls while she spoke.


    ¡°Oh, Ratty, Ratty,¡±  her purr had returned, and Rath found himself drawn toward the window behind her and the city streaming by outside the tram.  He wanted to look anywhere except the smoldering gaze of her faceted eyes. ¡°Even if what you¡¯re saying is true, why should I only be one of those things?  Or two?  Why can¡¯t I be all those things when I want to be?¡±


    He could feel the grind of the zipper as she pulled it lower, exposing more of the undershirt stretched across his broad chest.  Her deft touch slid the zipper up again while she spoke  ¡°The same is true for you,¡±  her voice was soft, almost hypnotic, and he found himself looking into her eyes despite his earlier reluctance.  ¡°You don¡¯t have to spend all your time being a good guy.  A hero.  Sometimes being a villain doesn¡¯t make you bad.  Or wrong.  It just makes you whole.¡±


    ¡°It''s not that easy,¡±  Rath rasped, his mouth dry and his eyes slowly drifting shut.  Distantly he was aware that he was leaning toward her, caught in the grip of her inexorable gravity like a comet plucked from the cosmos by a covetous black hole.  ¡°Good and bad aren¡¯t lights that turn on and off when you flip a switch.  They¡¯re the scars you carry for every decision you make.  Scars you see in the mirror till the day you die.¡±


    Rath was dimly aware of a sweet taste on the tip of his tongue, like the lilacs in Meadow Park.  It wasn¡¯t until she spoke again that he realized her lips were close enough that he could taste her breath.  ¡°They aren¡¯t scars, ¡°  Abigail said, each wicked whisper causing Rath¡¯s world to shrink as he mentally tumbled into the vanishing space between them.  ¡°Good?  Bad?  They¡¯re weights that other people have laid upon your shoulders since before you were born.  All you have to do is let them go.¡±


    As if he¡¯d closed his hand around a live wire, agonizing heat leapt up the length of his right arm in a bolt of electric shock that buried itself in the base of his skull.  Recoiling with a pained hiss, Rathaniel¡¯s pale hazel eyes fluttered open.  His left hand closed around the silver ONI bracer he wore on his right wrist while he fought to control the twitching fingers of his right hand.


    ¡°Depthless dark that hurts,¡± Rathaniel swore, all thoughts of Abigail vanishing from his mind in the wake of the eye watering pain.  It felt as if his arm was going to ignite like a piece of oiled cloth.  Then, as if it''d been a figment of his imagination, the pain subsided as suddenly as it had appeared.  Rathaniel¡¯s fingers stopped twitching and the throbbing at the base of his skull vanished .


    ¡°My ONI is malfunctioning.¡±  Rath said, splitting his attention between the analyst beside him and the process of withdrawing his arm from the coveralls he wore.  The zipper hissed like a wary snake when Rath jerked it down to his stomach.  A roll of his broad shoulders let him shrug his way out of the sturdy synthcloth that fell down to pool around his waist.


    ¡°Since yesterday it¡¯s felt like it was about to melt through my arm.  But it hasn¡¯t hurt quite like that before,¡± Rathaniel murmured. His hazel eyes trailed up and down the length of his unmarred arm while his left hand rubbed at the unassuming ONI clasped around his wrist.


    With a contemplative hum, Abigail arched one carefully sculpted eyebrow while she regarded Rath¡¯s silver ONI with a baleful stare.  She tentatively lifted a hand as if she planned to inspect it herself only to  abort the attempt halfway to his wrist.   Instead of examining his ONI, she let her arm drop listlessly to her side.


    ¡°Curious.  Very curious,¡±  she spoke as much to herself as to the agitated laborer.  ¡°You said this all began yesterday?  When?,¡±   When the analyst lifted her gaze from his wrist, Rathaniel felt himself sinking into her emerald gaze again.  This time he tore his eyes away from her¡¯s, hiding the abrupt motion by focusing his attention on his shoulder and elbow.  The malfunctioning ONI wasn¡¯t the only thing that had unnerved Rathaniel.


    ¡°I first noticed it at the shuffle.  I¡¯ve felt it a few times since, but  never quite like that.  Before I''ve felt a tremendous heat.  This time it felt like an electric current was running through my arm.¡±  While Rathaniel spoke, his fingers clenched into a fist to test the hand that had betrayed him a moment ago.


    Abigail made no attempt to hide the way her eyes followed the cords of muscle that slithered beneath Rath¡¯s skin when he flexed his arm.  Her tongue flicked out, quick as a whip, to moisten her dry lips before she spoke.  ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of anyone having a malfunctioning ONI.  Have you noticed anything that seems to trigger these episodes?¡±


    Rathaniel found himself reluctant to reply.  It was hard to trust Abigail, even if she had been willing to ¡®save¡¯ him from the Peace Keeper.  That didn¡¯t change the fact that they had only known each other for a very short time.  Something about this problem with his ONI made him want to keep thoughts to himself.


    ¡°Nothing I can be sure about,¡±  Rathaniel replied, hedging the truth despite a stab of guilt he felt for being less than forthcoming.  ¡°We¡¯re almost to the mines.  It''s probably best to have this talk after our shift since we¡¯ll have to split up as soon as we get off the tram.¡±


    ¡°Oh?  Are we going to talk after our shift?,¡±  Abigail asked, a half smile tugging impishly at the corner of her lips.  ¡°You mangled this date like a dweller wrecking a vein of glimmerkriss.  I haven¡¯t decided if there will be a second date yet.¡±


    ¡°What can can you do to convince me, Rathaniel Bright?,¡±  Abigail said, leaning forward at an angle calculated to spread the top of her coveralls and expose the snug green shirt she wore underneath.


    ¡°Well, Abby,¡±  Rath said, rolling his eyes as he rose to his feet.  A small step brought him into the isle that was filling with citizens preparing to exit the tram.  ¡°With the way my life is going right now, the only thing I can guarantee is that things will never be dull.¡±


    An expression of profound pity crossed her lovely face.  ¡°Oh Ratty,¡¯  Abigail said in a wistful tone.  ¡°That was awful.  If you can¡¯t do any better than that then I owe it to the other women of Nox to try and teach you how to flirt.¡±


    Rathaniel shook his head with a soft chuckle as the tram came to a stop.  The tide of humanity, dressed in laborer gray and analyst green, surged toward the doors as soon as they slid open.  Swept down the aisle by the crowd, Rath could only call back over his shoulder at the still seated woman, ¡°I¡¯ll see you at the terminal after our shift.¡±


    Stepping out of the tram, Rath¡¯s heavy boots carried him across the steel terminal and down a short flight of stairs.  At the base of the stairs two armed Keepers stood with their kinetic rifles resting on their shoulders.  There were only a few places in Nox where the Keepers would be armed with more than a suppression datapad.  The mines, with their proximity to the walls and potential for dweller incursion, qualified as one of those places.


    Rath kept his eyes averted from the mirrored masks worn by the two Peace Keepers.  Once he stepped past them he was treated to the sight of the sprawling Sector C mining facility.  It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d worked to harvest glimmerkriss, but that didn¡¯t dull the awe he felt at the sight of the complex.


    Like mushrooms surrounding a mud puddle, small, squat buildings sat around the edge of a massive pit.  The yawning chasm was so large that it made the people working in and around it appear as little more than ants bustling around a hive.  Rumbling conveyor belts carried dusty buckets laden with stone to the small buildings surrounding the mine.  Once there, they were unloaded and sorted into appropriate bins that trax drivers would hitch to their vehicles and tow to one of the two gargantuan processing facilities at either end of the mine.


    The operation was loud, hot, and necessary.  Not only did the mines provide workable building material for the maintenance of Nox, but more importantly, the mines in Sector C and D were the only viable source of glimmerkriss.  Glimmerkriss was the primary building block of the organic nanites that served as the foundation of human life in Magna Spelunca.


    Rathaniel actually felt those very nanites adjust his auditory input several decibels.  Their constant adjustment of his biometrics were so subtle that he rarely noticed, but there was nothing subtle about work in the mines.  In addition to the noise, Rath could already feel the fine grit clinging to his hands and his face.  The sensation quickened his step to the nearest intake facility where he sought out an older man wearing a safety hat and dressed in analyst green.


    ¡°Name?,¡±  the man said, his voice pitched above the ambient noise of the stone being moved around them.  The foreman had a lean, wiry look typical to most analysts. Weathered lines etching his face spoke of far more experience in the front lines than most of the calculators ever saw.  There was also a hint of gray at the roots of his dark hair, suggesting that the man only had a few shuffles left before he ended his days in one of the towers outside the city.


    ¡°Rathaniel Bright,¡± Rath replied, helping himself to one of the hard hats hanging from a nearby peg board.  After claiming a piece of headgear, he pulled a respirator from a nearby table to filter out the ambient dust that choked the lower levels of the mine.  ¡°I¡¯m assigned to shaft forty-eight¡±


    The gruff foreman offered a nod of approval before tapping a series of keys on his datapad. ¡°Glad to see you¡¯ve shuffled into the mines before.  The fewer rookies we have wandering around in the deep the better off everyone is.  Work manifest says you¡¯ve got trax experience.  Part of the crew down there is shuffling out in a deca. When they do, I¡¯ll shift you from the monofilament mattock into a driver¡¯s job.  For now though, you¡¯re going to be digging in the dirt.¡±


    Rath was thankful that the respirator hid his grimace.  He knew the foreman was trying to be considerate, but Rath would prefer swinging a mattock to driving a taxi for the other workers.  At least the stone didn¡¯t complain.  There were few experiences worse than being a captive audience in a group of commiserating laborers after a fifteen hour shift.


    ¡°One more thing,¡± the foreman said, stepping close enough that Rath had to resist an impulse to step back.  ¡°Keep an eye out down there.  We¡¯ve had two dweller incursions in the last mensis. If you see anything amiss, get your shiny little cheeks back up here.  Shaft forty-eight is a long way from the Keepers and their kinetic rifles.¡±


    ¡°Heard and understood,¡± Rath replied, stepping past the foreman to make his way toward a large, flat-bed trax that was bound for the lower strata of the mine. Rath would have to delve deep into the abyss to find shaft forty-eight.


    ¡°May the beacon guide you,¡±  the foreman said, his words nearly lost amidst the racket created by the busy facility.


    A short while later, Rath, and an entire crew of heavily geared laborers, descended into the depthless dark.

 1.8

    No public record exists that details the size and scope of the Sunless Land.  It¡¯s generally accepted that Magna Spelunca, The Great Cavern, is only one small corner of the subterranean environment.  Within it, claiming less than half the cavern¡¯s space, sits the city of Nox. The city is  a living testament to the time and dedication invested by generations of citizens. Those brave explorers spent their lives chiseling out a civilization from the clutches of the depthless dark.  But why had those generations chosen to settle here?  What kept humanity from expanding beyond the boundaries of Magna Spelunca? Even now, after hundreds of cycles since its founding?  The answer was one that every child learned in the first years of their Dormitory education.  Resources.


    Resources in the Sunless Land inevitably came down to the presence, or absence, of a single commodity.  There was one one integral component of the organic nanites that served as the foundation for human life below the surface.  Glimmerkriss.  Since the scientific breakthrough that led to the creation of organic nanites, glimmerkriss had become humanity''s most coveted natural resource.  Beneath the surface, there wasn¡¯t enough food to eat, water to drink, or air to breath.  The only way to sustain human life was to supplement those necessities through the molecular manipulation.  That manipulation was the primary purpose of the ONI system.


    The legends of the founding claimed that less than seven hundred men, women, and children survived the exodus from the surface.  After a long and grueling journey, the weary pilgrims arrived at winding river that flowed through a massive cavern.  The stories claim that children were the first to find the sparkling crystals on the shore of the Lethe river.  Upon showing off their treasure to the adults, Mephisto, who would go on to become the progenitor of the Administration caste and a member of the Eternal Council, recognized the minerals for the rare material that they were.  Wasting no time, work began on the first mine the following day.  Hundreds of cycles later, that event would come to be recognized by historians as the birth of Nox.


    Rathaniel wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like to be a part of the first crews searching for glimmerkriss.  Unlike in the era of the founding, a sprawling network of winding tunnels and sheer vertical shafts now led into the bowels of Magna Spelunca.  The first settlers wouldn¡¯t have had the luxury of the modern equipment that was so vital to the industry today.  In place of the steel pickaxes used by the original settlers, Rath and his crew were armed with hexacarbon tools honed to a monofilament edge.  Where Rathaniel''s hardy ancestors would have used simple wheelbarrows and pulleys to transport the excavated minerals back to the surface, he had access to trax vehicles and freight sized maglift elevators.


    One of those very elevators whispered to a stop beneath Rathaniel¡¯s feet.  A moment later the chain link gate slid a open to let Rath and the three other members of his work crew depart.  Grit like fine sand crunched and crackled beneath his heavy work boots as he stepped into a well lit tunnel.  The fine dust created an eerie haze that refracted the dim glow of the coldlight orbs that were affixed to the ceiling above them..  Each shining lamp hung evenly spaced between the steel arches that reinforced the stone passageway. The walls of the tunnel were smooth as glass, a result of the monofilament tools that sheared through material on a molecular level.


    Save for the crunch of their boots on the stone, silence cloaked the four men as they began their hike through the tunnel.  With the floating dust and the dim light from above creating an alien landscape, Rathaniel¡¯s thoughts turned to the warning about dweller incursions.  Those thoughts lead his eyes toward the three men he would depend on if he found himself in the sort of life and death struggle that exemplified any encounter with the natives of Magna Spelunca.


    Peter, the leader of their crew, was a short, stocky man.  His dark hair was salted with hints of gray, making him one of the oldest citizens Rath had ever met.  His heavy baritone voice had a grit like sandpaper when he spoke.  When the gate opened, he glanced at the datapad in his hand before leading the way into the tunnel.  The older man''s casual confidence implied cycles worth of experience in the tunnels, an area the veteran miners called ''The Pit.''


    Victor, like Rath, was tall enough to appear imposing when he stood next to the other two members of their team.  Unlike Rathaniel, Victor was lean enough that his coveralls hung loosely from his narrow shoulders and spindly arms.  While they rode the maglift down, he''d armed himself with one of the two monofilament mattocks in their supply crate.  When he''d proclaimed that the kids should carry the baggage, contempt had stained his every syllable.  The respirators they wore prevented Rathaniel from seeing the wiry man''s face, but he could feel Victor''s sneer by the condescending tone of his voice.


    The baggage in question was the auger pack that they would deploy once they reached the dig site.  Julius, the youngest of the crew, cast a timid gaze down to his feet before shuffling over to the pack.  The young blonde was quiet and skittish, speaking only when spoken to.   Recently graduated from the Dormitories, the short, lean man was several cycles younger than Rath. Despite Rath and Peter''s attempt at reassuring him, Julius seemed overwhelmed by the mine¡¯s foreboding atmosphere and Viktor¡¯s callous intensity.


    ¡°Our assignment is down this tunnel,¡±  Peter said, his voice muffled by the respirator he wore.  The older laborer¡¯s gruff, no nonsense voice spoke of a man who had spent countless cycles delving into the dark depths below Nox. ¡°I¡¯ll set the auger up and test the samples.  Julius can help with the tripod.  Victor is on overwatch with Rathaniel.  I don¡¯t expect any problems, but I know you three have heard about all the dweller incursions lately, so keep a sharp eye out.  You see anything, anything at all, you drop your gear and scurry back to the maglift. There''s nothing tastier to a dweller than a misguided hero.¡±


    ¡°Do you really think we¡¯ll see any dwellers?,¡±  Julius asked, his soprano voice so soft that Rath strained to hear him.


    Victor¡¯s derisive snort made Julius flinch.  ¡°You worry about getting that auger set up,¡±  the lanky laborer said. ¡°I¡¯ll protect you kids from the big bad bugs.  The old man can take care of himself. Altogether I¡¯ve spent close to eleven cycles in the Pit and I¡¯ve never seen a dweller in the tunnels.  Not once.¡±  Like Rath, Victor was tall enough to loom over the younger man as they strolled down the tunnel.  ¡°All that talk around the rim is just that.  Talk.¡±


    Victor continued, lecturing the two younger laborers like a Magister patiently correcting a couple of struggling students. ¡°A bunch of guys got dim on bright moss and mushstein down here and started jumping at shadows.  I¡¯d bet a cohabitation license on it.¡±


    Rath¡¯s eyes narrowed skeptically, ¡°Bright moss won¡¯t grow down here because there¡¯s no water supply.  I guess you could carry a few pinches in with you but you¡¯d never get down into the tunnels with a cask of mushstein.  Not without someone stopping you.  It¡¯d be flickering crazy to even try.¡±


    Victor barked a laugh that exploded down the empty tunnel like the roar of a demolition charge. ¡°Can you believe this kid, old man?,¡±  Victor said, scornful mirth dancing in each syllable he spoke.  ¡°You better hope they put you out to pasture soon because the whole city is going to crumble when it depends on kids like him.  The mute is even worse.¡±


    Resentment flashed in Rathaniel¡¯s hazel eyes.  The respirator prevented him from seeing the fine details of the other man¡¯s expression, but Rath knew a taunt when he heard one.  Before he could reply, Peter lifted his left hand in a calming gesture toward Rath while his right pointed a finger a Victor in an implied threat.  The abrupt conflict brought Julius to a sudden stop. He was a split second away from bolting back toward the maglift If the white-knuckled grip the young man had on the straps of his pack was any indication.


    ¡°There¡¯ll be none of that now.  We¡¯re down here for fifteen hours and I don¡¯t intend to spend it playing Peace Keeper or patching you two up after a fight,¡± Peter said in a stern tone.  ¡°We¡¯re going to do our job.  Then we¡¯re going to go home.  Is everyone clear about that?¡±


    The older man glanced from one side to the other, daring the two men to dispute him.  A dozen searing retorts clambered onto the tip of Rath¡¯s tongue, each one more blistering than the last.  In that frozen moment Abigail¡¯s voice intruded in his mind, urging him to do whatever he wanted.  Mentally silencing her hedonistic voice, Rath clenched his jaw and swallowed his scathing retort.  Not trusting himself to speak, Rath offered Peter a stiff nod of acceptance.


    Though he was still muttering under his breath, Victor followed the other laborers once they began moving down the quiet tunnel.  Perhaps it was the weight of the quiet stone that made Peter speak.  Or, perhaps, it was a canny old man¡¯s attempt at repairing bruised egos.  Whatever the case, Peter''s gruff voice split the silence like a pair of shears slicing through a funerary shroud.


    ¡°Victor didn¡¯t have to be a jerk about it, but he wasn¡¯t completely wrong either.  Miners are a rough breed and a bit tribal, truth be told.  They shuffle out of the Pit into other jobs, same as anybody else, but real miners find their way back by the next shuffle or two.  By the end of the cycle, you look back and realize you spent three quarters of it digging in the dirt with the same sour-faced citizens.¡±


    ¡°So you start to turn your work into your home,¡±  Peter continued, his raspy voice magnified by the bare tunnel walls.  ¡°See, it¡¯s an open secret that there¡¯s only one kind of person that gets assigned to the mines.  The expendable kind.  Oh sure, anybody can get shuffled down here once every two or three cycles.  That¡¯s the way Nox is.  What you need to worry about is ending up here every other deca.¡±  He cast a long, significant look toward Rathaniel before turning to confirm that Julius understood the gravity of that statement as well.  All the while, Victor continued to casually follow the other laborers as if he were enjoying a walk through a verdant park on rec day.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°There are some shiny truths down here that they don¡¯t tell you about in school.  For instance, the Dorms don¡¯t teach you about the admins shuffling malcontents and misanthropes down into the pit,¡±  Peter said, illustrating his point with a meaningful glance over his shoulder.


    Rath was delighted at how uncomfortable Victor looked to be the teacher¡¯s visual aid in this lesson.  The wiry laborer lifted the covered mattock from his shoulder to shake the business end menacingly at the older man.  Julius, still wary, scuttled toward the tunnel wall like a spider skittering away from a descending boot.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you the last shave you¡¯ll ever need, gray beard.  I¡¯m down here to grow the glimmerkriss supply.  That¡¯s it.  Don¡¯t twist it up and confuse their little lizard brains.¡±  Victor settled the mattock back on his shoulder but the implied threat hung heavily in the air.  ¡°What the old man is saying, in his slow, meandering way, is that the Pit looks after its own.  If you¡¯re a miner, a real miner, there are perks to the job.  There¡¯s caches all through the mines.  Little hidden chambers dug into the tunnels where we keep a stock of booze, food, and moss.  Books and tech too.  Some of the stuff you can¡¯t find anywhere else in Nox.¡±


    ¡°So when I say those dweller stories came from people that were drunk ¡±  Victor spat, his gaze sweeping across the tunnel to settle on Rath.  ¡°You better believe that I know more about the Pit than some bat shit for brains kid.¡±


    Peter spoke up then, his voice carefully neutral.  ¡°What he didn¡¯t say is that there have been dweller incursions in the past.  I know because I''ve seen one.¡±  The older man ignored the expectant looks from the rest of the crew.  Without breaking stride, Peter withdrew the datapad from his pocket to check the dig information.


    A heartbeat later, Victor¡¯s words cut through the air like a cold razor. ¡°Ratshit.  You¡¯re a liar.¡±


    ¡°What was it like?  How big was it?  Were you scared?¡±  Questions tumbled past Julius¡¯ lips as he shuffled over to Peter¡¯s side.  For the first time, the youngest member of their crew seemed to be oblivious to Victor¡¯s seething ire.


    ¡°The dig is only a few meters ahead,¡±  Peter said, focusing on the datapad in his hand instead of the questions eing tossed his way.  Rath watched the older man methodically measure his advance down the tunnel.  Peter studiously referenced the datapad after each step until his heavy boots came to a stop beneath a nondescript arch. Rathaniel did some quick math and estimated that they were close to three kilometers from the maglift.


    With a satisfied nod, the old miner motioned for Julius to join him before he began to speak.  ¡°Manifest says they struck a lode of glimmerkriss off the tunnel above.  We¡¯ll take six core samples then cross reference them with the material from the other tunnel.  Soon as the datapad finishes crunching the numbers, we¡¯ll know where to start swinging those mattocks.¡±


    ¡°We know how this works, old man.  Less talking and more drilling.  You could have had it set up by now,¡±  Victor grumbled, adopting an indolent lean against the smooth stone of the nearby wall.  ¡°Hey,  boot licker,¡±  he continued, without even bothering to look Rath¡¯s way. ¡°I¡¯ve got this side of the dig.  You go down the tunnel and watch the other side.¡±


    Beneath the heavy synthcloth gloves he wore, Rath¡¯s knuckles turned white as his hand clenched around the haft of his mattock. ¡°What did you call me?,¡±  he said, his voice calm and suspiciously devoid of emotion.


    The heavy pack Julius wore slipped through the young man¡¯s suddenly lax grip.  Julius was already stumbling backward when his head snapped up to give Rath a wide-eyed stare.  The boom of the auger crashing onto the stone floor echoed down the passageway like the sound of a door being slammed shut.  A slew of curses immediately followed as Peter scrambled toward the pack.  Ignoring Peter, and the pack,  Julius abandoned both in his haste to create distance between himself and the two men staring daggers at one another.


    ¡°I called you boot licker because you''ve spent the whole trip licking the old man''s boot.  You knew who I was talking to,¡±  Victor said, enunciating each word with painstaking care.  While he spoke, Victor lifted his mattock with practiced ease.  One of his hands held the base of the haft and the other gripped the handle below the head of the mattock.  ¡°I could have called you tiny cock. That¡¯d have been just as accurate.  Isn¡¯t that right, tiny cock?¡±


    Unbridled disdain flickered in the depths of Rath¡¯s hazel eyes as they swept over Victor.  ¡°It''s ironic that the man who¡¯s so quick to call other people ¡®kids¡¯ is the most childish person in the crew.  Do you hear yourself talk?  You sound like some of the older students in the Dorms that had to spend extra cycles in class before they could graduate.¡±


    The way Victor recoiled from Rath¡¯s words made him feel as if he¡¯d struck a nerve.  Unable to bottle up the boiling frustration inside himself, Rath let his words dig into the other man the same way the mattock on his shoulder would sink into solid stone. ¡°That¡¯s it, isn¡¯t it?  You¡¯ve spent your whole life with a chip on your shoulder because  some girl who was too good for you anyway.¡±


    His wild guess caused the other man to flinch.  The sight sent a surge of sadistic satisfaction tingling through him.Rath could hear Abigail¡¯s laughter ringing in his ears but he couldn¡¯t stop the words that erupted from his lips with the soul searing heat of molten rock.  ¡°She left you behind.  Deep down, you know it¡¯s not because she graduated first.  It¡¯s because you weren¡¯t worth waiting for.¡±


    The feral snarl of a cornered animal rang through the tunnel when Victor savagely unclasped the cover over the head of his mattock.  The durable plastic fell to the floor, leaving the black hexacarbon tool naked beneath the pale glow of the coldlight above.


    Victor brazenly spun the deadly implement in his hand before dropping into a fighting stance. With the mattock held diagonally across his chest. he aimed the wide, slightly curved blade pointed toward Rath.  ¡°That¡¯s going to cost you an arm and an apology, tiny cock.  If I don¡¯t get both of those right now, it''s going to cost you more than that before we¡¯re through.¡±


    The ONI around his wrist felt so hot that he glanced away from Victor¡¯s advance to make sure it wasn¡¯t melting off of his arm.  Though the silver metal proved to be intact, Rath¡¯s eyes widened in horror at the thin black wisps leaking from beneath the bracer.  The shadowy tendrils were almost invisible in the dusty haze around them.  But Rath had seen that writhing darkness before.  It looked exactly like a small piece of the cloud that had haunted his dreams.


    The mattock he held slipped from his numb fingers as he took a series of stumbling steps backwards until his back struck the smooth wall behind him.  A wild, unhinged light glimmered in the depths of his pale eyes as he focused on his ONI.  It took Rath a heartbeat to realize that there was nothing to see.  Like a mirage being banished by careful scrutiny, the darkness leaking from his ONI seemed to fade into oblivion.  Heedless of Victor¡¯s eager advance, Rath began to inspect his bracer with manic desperation.


    ¡°Hey!,¡±  Peter yelled, the sudden word sounding like the report of a rifle in the empty tunnel.  Victor stumbled back, lowering the mattock before he turned toward the older man with a wordless growl.  The shout drew Rath¡¯s attention as well, his wide, terrified gaze snapping up from the ONI around his wrist to watch Peter step between the two tall laborers.


    ¡°You,¡±  the grizzled veteran snarled, pointing curtly toward Victor.  ¡°Stand against that wall and watch the flickering tunnel.¡±


    ¡°You,¡±  another impatient gesture, this time directed toward Rath, proceeded the old man¡¯s order.  ¡°Grab your flickering mattock and plant yourself on the other side of the dig.  Your job is to stand over there and watch for trouble until I tell you otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Did you see?,¡±  Rath murmured, his voice brittle as cracked glass.


    ¡°I saw two idiots who have no business being down here in the Pit when adults like me, and Julius over there, are trying to do our job.¡±  Any patience Peter had with the two men had obviously been exhausted.  The shorter man glared at each of the laborers as he crossed his arms and began tapping the toe of his boot against the dusty floor.  ¡°Well?  What are you flickering fools waiting on?  Get to your positions so we can get this job done and I can get away from you two idiots.¡±


    Rath took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak only to feel the words shrivel up and die beneath Peter¡¯s withering gaze.  After a deep, calming breath, he could only offer a grudging nod of acceptance.  Rath knew that Peter was right.  He wasn¡¯t sure what came over him in the heat of the moment when he¡¯d confronted Victor.  A petty part of his consciousness wanted to blame the entire ordeal on Abigail.  He was responsible for his loss of control, no matter how disconcertingly clear her laughter had been when he¡¯d given himself over to his rage.


    He was still considering the role his malfunctioning ONI may have played in the encounter when Peter spoke in an exasperated voice. ¡°Any day now, Rathaniel.¡±


    The respirator Rath wore hid the startled expression that flashed across his face. Forcing himself to move, he bent down and scooped up his mattock.  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Victor had buckled the cover of his mattock back into place.  The sight eased a bit of the tension still tingling through the tunnel.  At least the resident jerk was smart enough to cover the monofilament blade that could slice someone in two.


    ¡°Julius,¡±  Rath began as he stepped toward the young man who clutched the auger pack tightly to his chest.  At the sound of Rath¡¯s voice, Julius looked down at the dusty floor and backed away from the approaching man.


    A frown tugged at the corner of Rath¡¯s lips as he fell silent again.  Without another word he stepped past Julius and moved another ten meters down the tunnel.  Maybe it was for the best that everyone spread out and focused on their jobs.  It would give everyone a chance to cool their tempers and invest their energy into something more constructive than needling each other.


    Wrapped in sudden solitude, with his back to the rest of the crew, a sigh slipped from Rath¡¯s lips.  While he listened to the sounds of Peter coaching Julius on the assembly of the auger unit, Rath lowered his mattock until its hexacarbon head rested upon the tunnel floor.  With a tentative touch, he let the index finger of his left hand drag against the seamless band of his ONI.


    One question after another floated through his mind like the dust drifting through the air around him.  At least down here, with no Peace Keepers or strident analysts, he had some time to himself to figure out the answer to those lingering questions.  He could use the hours in the depthless dark to sort through his feelings about mysteries he¡¯d been confronted with.


    Rathaniel actually found the thought of spending a day in the tunnels relaxing compared to what he¡¯d been swept up in on the streets of Nox.  It would be a nice change of pace to spend a few hours on a simple work assignment instead of wrestling with world shattering revelations.


    Afterall, Rath was on a simple job with an average crew.  What could possibly go wrong?

 1.9

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