Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 23 - All Natural (Patreon)

Both of my parents were prostitutes on Bourbon Street, dead from dust overdoses before I was a teenager. I sometimes wonder which came first – the drugs or the path that led them to prostitution. Some people love that kind of life, but I don’t think my parents were among that group.

Nora Lancaster

Leaving Nova City wasn’t as easy as heading from one district to another. There were rules about who could and could not leave. Most people didn’t bother jumping through all the hoops, instead choosing just to stay in the city. After all, there was nothing out there but vicious wildlife, wildlings, and a few settlements that barely qualified as civilization, right? Most residents of Nova City – at least in the Garden or Algiers – were completely unaware that other cities even existed. So, they were trapped by both circumstance and ignorance.

I knew that, because I’d been in a similar position before my uncle showed me that the world was much broader than I’d been taught in school.

In any case, there were two ways out of Nova City. The first method would involve me getting all the proper permits and submitting to the authority of the Enforcers. I was confident in my ability to mask my identity, and I suspected that nobody was even hunting me anyway, but I didn’t really want to chance it.

The second way out was risky as well, but in a completely different way. There were certain people who smuggled things in and out of Nova City all the time. My uncle had utilized their services on a multitude of occasions. He’d even given me instructions on how to find the right people who wouldn’t ask too many questions. It was supposed to be relatively safe, at least according to Jeremiah.

But safe for my uncle wasn’t necessarily safe for everyone else. Not only was he personally stronger than anyone else in the city, but he also had the benefit of his reputation backing him up. Everyone knew what happened to people who messed with Jeremiah. And that wasn’t even considering that he’d had an entire tribe behind him, too.

I wouldn’t have any of that. Certainly, I could take care of myself, but going the smuggler’s route would put me on their home turf, where I would be at a disadvantage. And being a lone young woman, regardless of my relative power, would invite challenge from the wrong sorts of people. Still, it was the best of bad options, so after leaving the laboratory, I’d contacted Gunther to ask him to provide an introduction, which he had.

So, two days later, I found myself heading to a part of the Garden I’d never visited. In a lot of ways, it looked little different from the rest of the district. The same monstrous megabuildings dominated the area, and the people looked similar as well. However, I wasn’t there for what was on the surface. Instead, my destination was the Underground.

To that end, once I’d found the right area, I made my way to a huge, concrete trench that cut through the area. Nova City was subject to stringent climate controls, but from time to time, the city’s climate managers would manufacture storms intended to wash the worst of the grime from the city’s streets. All that water had to go somewhere, so Nova was crisscrossed with various trenches and drainage tunnels, many of which had been blocked off or repurposed for the Underground. Such was the case with the trench in front of me.

Much of the structure was still viable for its intended purpose, but the nearby access tunnel had been coopted by a smuggler’s group called the Nats. Like most tribal names, it was an unimaginative moniker derived from the tribe’s defining characteristic – primarily, that its members were entirely free of cybernetics. In other words, wholly natural. They had Nexus Implants and skills, but that was where they drew the line. They didn’t even have the common rudimentary interfaces that didn’t require a version of [Cybernetic Interface], let alone anything as advanced as mine. As far as I knew, they had no real way to keep track of their own progression.

Truthfully, I would have preferred to go somewhere else, but they asked the least number of questions. And they were actively hostile to both the Specters and the Enforcers, which meant that they were extremely unlikely to rat me out, even if they figured out who I was. Given my preference to avoid any extra scrutiny, they seemed like the best choice.

Plus, Gunther had vouched for them, which was beginning to mean something to me.

With a shake of my head, I crossed the busy street and hopped the barricade meant to prevent people accidently stumbling into the steep-sided trench. It barely slowed me down, and in the space of a second, I was sliding down the sloped, algae-coated sides. After another second, I got my feet under me and slid to a stop on a platform that housed the access tunnel that was my destination.

A pair of mooks – both male, though as different in stature as you could imagine, with one being tall and broad, while the other was short and even thinner than me – were stationed just inside the tunnel. Both were armed with assault rifles that looked fairly well made, and they were wearing black body armor.

The big one grunted, “Get outta here, street rat. Ain’t nothin’ in here for you.”

“Not a street rat, you mook,” I said. “I’m here to see Gavin. Gunther sent me.”

His eyes narrowed under his heavy brow, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he unclipped a communicator from his waist – it was a big, heavy box with a long antenna attached – and pressed a button before saying, “This is Big Chief. Got a street rat here says she was sent by Gunther. Wants to talk to the bossman. Over.”

I recognized the communicator from a display I’d seen in Gunther’s lobby, so I knew they were based on some pre-Initialization technology. However, I didn’t know exactly how that kind of stuff worked. In any case, a moment later, the box crackled, and a tinny voice came through, “Send her through. Boss’s expectin’ her.”

“Ten-four,” the so-called Big Chief said.

After that, they let me inside, where I was met by a young man. He was small, scrawny, and a little sickly looking. However, he had a jittery demeanor that told me he was full of energy.

“Hey. I’m Leif,” he said, raking a hand through his coppery hair. “I’m supposed to lead you inside.”

I gestured for him to do just that and said, “Lead on, then.”

He grinned, then said, “Follow me. If you don’t think you can make a jump, just let me know, and I’ll get a ladder.”

Then, he took off at a light jog, and I followed. The concrete ground was slippery with water and slime, and the sides of the tunnel were lousy with various pipes, but that was to be expected. I’d spent some time in the tunnels beneath the city, so I’d known what I was in for. Still, it surprised me how adroitly Leif navigated the tunnels. His footing was sure, and he kept up a solid pace.

Then, we reached a gap in the tunnel, which he leapt without even slowing down. I followed, making the seven-foot jump with ease. Leif looked back in surprise, but he didn’t slow. Like that we ran through the tunnels for another ten minutes, making a variety of turns until I was completely lost. My map was useless underground, so I was at Leif’s mercy. As we went, the air steadily grew more and more humid until it wasn’t so different from what I’d felt back in Mobile.

Thankfully, we soon found our way to a massive underground cavern that was absolutely filled with people. It was laid out similarly to one of the megabuildings, with a bunch of cubicle-like domiciles lining the outer area and a more communal space in the middle. There were vendors hawking a variety of wares, from guns to fruits and everything in between, and the whole place was lit by strings of lights hung from the low ceiling.

There was no forgetting that we were under the city, but I supposed that was kind of the point. These people weren’t part of Nova City. Not really. They were residents of the Underground.

I got a few curious looks as we made our way through the crowd, but no one barred our way. Eventually, we made it to a cubicle that was a bit bigger than most. Leif knocked on the door, and a few seconds later, a bearded bear of a man opened it. He didn’t have bulging muscles like Nora or Simon, who’d been one of my hand-to-hand instructors. Instead, he was just a huge mass of flesh. He wasn’t blubbery, and he had plenty of muscle, but most of that was buried beneath a layer of fat. Still, there was an aura of strength about him that I couldn’t deny. I got the sense that he was a Tier-4. Not as powerful as Gunther or my uncle, but if he was well-trained, he could definitely be a problem.

Leif said, “Bossman – I brought her, just like you said.”

“So you did,” the man rumbled. Judging by how much he matched the description Gunther had given me, I assumed he was Gavin Paulson, the man in charge of the Nats and the one who was going to help me get out of Nova City. Getting back in was another story, but I had a plan for that, too, even if I was less sure about the return trip. “Good job, kid.” Then, to me, he said, “Come on in, and we’ll get you sorted right out.”

I followed him into the domicile, and I was a little taken aback by what I saw. The room was decidedly normal, and it reminded me quite a bit of my uncle’s old penthouse. The décor was different, and the whole place seemed a lot cozier. Probably because there were plenty of soft surfaces like blankets and pillows on the couches, but there was also quite a bit of pre-Initialization technology present. Like a huge television hanging from the wall, looking absolutely archaic to anyone who’d grown up with the modern screens of Nova City.

“I know it’s a bit…outdated in here,” said the man with a wide grin splitting his bearded face. “But it’s home. Can I get you anything? Drink?”

I shook my head. “Just ready to get out of the city,” was my response.

“You’re not the only one,” he said. “Lots of folks trying to escape the tribal wars up top.”

I shrugged. That wasn’t why I wanted to leave, but he didn’t need to know that. If he wanted to believe I was a refugee, then so be it.

“You have any implants?” he asked, gesturing to one of the couches as he sat in another one. “Not that I’ll refuse to help you if you do, or anything. Just asking.”

“A couple,” I said, sitting across from him. The couch was soft and made of real leather, reminding me of Gunther’s office. I raised my hand, then tapped my temple. “Hand and interface. Why?”

He didn’t need to know about my Sheath or my Arsenal Implant. The way I saw it, he likely already knew I wasn’t completely natural, so denying it would’ve probably gotten me in trouble. I’d rather reveal a little information if it kept him from asking more questions.

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Just asking,” he said. “Doesn’t it make you feel…less human? Like your one step away from being a robot?”

“Not really,” I said. “I like having the use of my hand, and this was the only way I could get that.”

“Fair enough. Some of my people have more extreme views, though,” he said. “So, don’t just assume all Nats are as accepting as me. Some would kill you on sight if they knew you had an ounce of tech in your body. If we could get away with yanking out our Nexus Implants, we would.”

“You ever been outside?” I asked.

“Can’t say I have,” was his response. “Not much call to leave the city.”

“So, you’ve never seen a Wildling?”

He shook his head.

“Count yourself lucky, then,” I said. “There are packs of them. Hundreds strong, all roving around like animals. They’ll attack anything. They’ll eat anything. The only thing keeping most of us from becoming like that is the fact that we have our Nexus Implants. So, remember that when you start talking about getting rid of them.”

He leaned forward, fixing me with an inscrutable gaze. After a few seconds, he said, “You’re more than you seem, aren’t you? Sometimes, I wish I had one of those fancy interfaces. Maybe then I could tell what makes you so different.”

If I’d been wearing my own face instead of one I’d stolen from some random woman on the street, he might’ve recognized me for what I was. But to all outward appearances, I was just a normal, Tier-3 woman. A little haggard. A bit rough around the edges, maybe. But normal. Just the sort of person who might think she could handle life outside the city, but not one so powerful that she could get out without help.

“Life can be a mystery,” I said, refusing to back down. In a moment, I could have my pistol out and a round in the air. I wasn’t afraid of him, and what’s more, I think he knew it. After all, anyone who came recommended by Gunther was unlikely to be simple, so there was no reason for me to pretend otherwise.

Suddenly, he let out a bellowing laugh as he leaned back. For a few moments, his barrel chest heaved with mirth until, at last, he said, “Oh, that’s a good one. I like you. No wonder Gunther vouched for you.”

“Can you get me out of the city?” I asked, tiring of his games. I wasn’t there to impress him. I just wanted him to perform a service. I’d already transferred the fee to Gunther, and if I got what I needed, he would then pay Gavin in goods. Everything had already been arranged. I just needed the big man to hold up his end of the bargain.

“Of course,” he said. “We’re leaving in a few minutes. Just waiting on the others.”

“Others?” I asked.

“There are only a few thousand,” he stated. “Most of them former slaves who’ve escaped their bonds. Nasty implants, those. Worse than most. Most of our income comes from removing them.”

“Really?” I asked. That was news to me. As far as I knew, if someone received a slave implant, their life as a free person was over. They were literally incapable of refusing commands from their masters. But I supposed that there had to be some cases where people needed them removed. And that wasn’t the sort of thing you went to a [Cybernetic Engineer] for. Most would hijack the implant for their own benefit. Or sell the slaves to someone who would. It seemed that was where the Nats stepped in.

“So surprised,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about us, but we’re not all degenerates. Some of us truly want to help others. And the money of reselling those implants helps.”

I nodded. Nobody ever did anything out of the goodness of their heart. There was always some sort of angle, a way for them to exploit the situation for their own gain. That the Nats were profiting didn’t negate the good they did, but it did nullify some of that altruistic aura.

“Well, time to go,” he said, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. “Follow me.”

I rose and followed him out of the domicile and through the common area. We didn’t have to walk far until we reached a side tunnel, which went on for a few hundred yards before opening up into another cavernous room. This one was packed full of people as well, but they were markedly different from the residents of the Underground. No – with their lusterless eyes, sunken cheeks, and ragged clothes, these were the refugees who wanted to escape Nova City.

Gavin gestured with one meaty paw, saying, “Well, join your people.”

I nodded to him, then did just that, mingling with the group. Each and every one of them smelled of desperation, body odor, and sometimes worse things. I tried to ignore it. Not because I had a sensitive stomach, but because they were the victims of my actions. I’d lit the fire that acted as the spark that started the tribal war. These people’s lives had been upended because of me.

Did I feel guilty? Sure. A little. But I didn’t regret it. I had always known there would be some degree of collateral damage in the pursuit of my revenge, and I’d long steeled my heart against letting it affect me. However, no one in my position could look at those pitiful creatures and feel anything but guilt. It was inevitable.

After a few more minutes, someone yelled for everyone to quiet down. The crowd did just that, so we had little trouble hearing when a woman said, “We’re going to lead you down in fives. When you go, don’t try to help. It’ll just make this more difficult. So, just go limp, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

Everyone murmured, but no one complained. After that, they started taking people away. Because the group was so big, it took quite a while for them to reach me. When they did, I followed a woman through a side tunnel for a few hundred feet until we reached a huge grate. There were a dozen men and women there, all wearing harnesses and hooked to a series of cables. Outside, I could see one of the huge pillars that supported the city.

A man approached me, then held out his hand. It was gnarled and the fingers looked crooked, as if they’d been broken a few times. “I’m Tam,” he said with a crooked smile that creased his already wrinkled face. He was older – probably in his fifties – but his exposed arms revealed corded muscle and skin that looked like cured leather. “You’re going to be with me, then. You ready to get hooked in?”

I gave him a dubious look, but I said, “I guess I don’t have much of a choice. Let’s do this.”

“No name, huh? Probably for the best,” he said, reaching out and wrapping a harness around me. He’d clearly done it hundreds – if not thousands – of times before, so he was done in moments. Then, he directed me to hook my harness to his via a series of clips. There seemed to be a lot of them, but I supposed that redundancy was probably a good thing in this kind of situation. In any case, I was soon strapped to him like a human backpack.

Once we were hooked together, with my back to his, he once again asked if I was ready. When I said I was, he started forward, reminding me to stay limp. I forced my body to do just that, and before I knew it, we were through the grate and clinging to a rope stretched along the underside of the city platform.

Then I looked down.

I think that’s when I really started to wonder if I’d made a mistake.