Mistrunner 3- Chapter 32 - Familiar Faces (Patreon)

Sometimes, the only way to make sense of things is to take everything apart, figure out how it works, and then put it back together.

Patrick Ward

I trailed my hand along the uneven concrete wall of the tunnel as I followed Gunther Gunderson through what was left of Nova City. Gone were the broad avenues and towering buildings, replaced by a series of underground tunnels dug through the rubble of what had once been a great city. Most of the time, it seemed like an entirely new place completely unconnected from the city where I’d spent most of my life. However, every now and then, I’d see something that sparked a memory. A holographic, neon-infused sign. A person wearing an old set of coveralls that had once belonged to a Silo worker. The smell of gumbo or the faux jambalaya I’d eaten so often in my youth. I even saw a few people sporting the colors or motifs of long-dead tribes.

But it wasn’t the same.

Nova City was gone, and only the echoes of the once-great city remained.

And Gunther, of course. Like a cockroach, he had refused to die. I saw the telltale sheen of low-quality fake skin on his face, and I suspected that it had taken quite a bit of work to repair his skull. How his brain had managed to survive, I had no idea. But then again, I couldn’t be sure if such a blow would kill me, either. Not with my Constitution and skills. Perhaps he had something meant to help him survive what should have been a deadly blow.

It was just further proof that, even though I sometimes felt like I stood at the top of the heap, I was woefully uninformed regarding what was possible. Before, I’d thought my ignorance confined to aliens and the wider universe, but Gunther’s continued existence was evidence enough that my lack of knowledge extended to Earth as well.

I should have just left it at that, but seeing Gunther alive and well was enough to send my mission skittering to the back of my mind. Instead, I was almost wholly focused on following him.

I wish I hadn’t.

Not because it left me open to ambush. It did, but that vulnerability never bore fruit. Instead, I wish I hadn’t followed Gunther because I got a good look at how pitiful his life had become. Perhaps it always had been. I’d built him up as this great and powerful foe, but in reality, he’d never been more than a local gunrunner. He had some power, it was true, but his use of that power was petty and unimportant.

Never was that more apparent than when I watched him go about his day. Most of his actions were terribly mundane. He ate. He shopped. He talked with friends. But he was no criminal mastermind.  In the grand scheme of things, he was just a petty criminal who managed just enough power to achieve some level of comfort. But now that the city had fallen, much of that aura of invincibility he’d fostered had faded into the background. Now, he was just another guy.

Still, I followed him, convinced that it was all a façade. After all, he had once been an important man, at least within Nova City. Surely, he hadn’t lost his taste for power or influence. But everything I saw suggested otherwise. Perhaps my actions had broken him.

Eventually, I followed Gunther to what I suspected was his home. Carved into the rubble just like everything else, it was a tiny, three-room domicile he shared with two other people.

Using Camouflage and Stealth, I watched as he greeted the other two people. Neither moved when he arrived. Nor did they even flinch at the sound of his voice. It wasn’t surprising, either. One was a tiny, withered slip of a girl who was confined to a wheelchair, while the other just stared straight ahead, unseeing and inactive.

That’s when something clicked in my mind.

I recognized the woman in the wheelchair. She looked far different from the person I’d met before – the one I thought I’d killed – but the moment I saw her eyes, I knew that I was looking at Dierdre, Gunther’s cyborg bodyguard. However, without her cybernetic parts, she was about a quarter of her old size, and clearly, she wasn’t capable of putting up much of a fight.

I watched as Gunther prepared a meal, then fed his two roommates. All the while, he spoke to them in what I supposed must have been meant as a soothing tone. I stayed like that for over an hour until I just couldn’t take anymore.

I knew I shouldn’t feel guilty. Those people had betrayed and tried to kill me. But seeing what had become of Dierdre – and the care with which Gunther treated her – tightened my chest and twisted my insides into knots. Justified or not, guilt enveloped my mind and threatened to overwhelm me.

In a lot of ways, their situation mimicked Nova City’s fate. Greatness brought low. Power sundered. Potential dashed. And in its wake, only misery and weakness. Would that be my fate? I wasn’t so different from Gunther, really. Certainly, I had some level of power, and so had he. But that hadn’t saved him.

Of course, I didn’t know the details of why he’d ended up with his current life. Perhaps he’d consciously chosen it after such a sound defeat. Or maybe I’d stolen his power, even if I hadn’t managed to kill him. I didn’t know, and I was past the point where I thought I could bear discovering more. So, without further ado, I pulled myself away from that scene and resumed my mission.

Still, the knot in my stomach remained, and as I traversed the tunnels that eventually led me to my destination, I couldn’t shake the guilt threatening to strangle my mind. I thought I’d come to terms with what I had done to Nova City. And in a lot of ways, I had. I would never forgive myself for the single-minded dedication to vengeance that had led me down that path of inevitable destruction. But from a rational standpoint, I recognized that I didn’t bear all the blame. The situation itself was partially responsible; without the Initialization, none of it would ever have happened. My uncle was guilty, too. He’d created the circumstances that ended with his death, which had in turn led me to seek revenge.

And Nora played her part, too. She’d set the bombs, after all. She had tried to manipulate me into letting her live. I didn’t blame her. Not really. She was self-interested to the very end, and given everything I knew about her, the idea that she would take a “if I go down, everyone goes down with me” attitude was ultimately predictable.

But even so, it was my choice that had set everything into motion. If I’d gone a different direction or made one of a thousand different decisions, Nova City would still be standing. I accepted that, and I thought I had moved on.

I hadn’t, though. Not really. Instead, I’d just pushed my feelings of remorse into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind where it could do nothing but fester. Now, though, Gunther’s and Dierdre’s fate had shone a light on my guilt, exposing it in all its toxic glory. I could barely stand it.

So, when I finally reached the facility housing the Obelisk and the Convergence to which it was connected, I was not in a very healthy state of mind.

The chamber itself was perfectly spherical, with the concrete walls looking as if they’d been carved by a laser. The obelisk in the center was much as I remembered it – tall and red, with black trim – but that wasn’t surprising. My uncle had once told me that it was nearly indestructible, and now, I couldn’t help but believe it.

I had to progress through a checkpoint manned by shabby-looking guards before I was allowed to approach the obelisk. I also had to pay a fee – not surprising, given that the new city needed some sort of bureaucracy, which cost money to run. Then, when I laid a hand on the apparatus, I was prompted to pay another, much larger fee that probably went to maintaining the Bazaar itself.

Then, I was whisked up and away, eventually landing in the space station itself. Even though I’d made multiple trips to the Bazaar over the years, I was still astounded by the short journey through the atmosphere. It was one thing to fly around in the Leviathan, but it was something else altogether to do so without the obstruction of a ship. However, my flight ended after only a few seconds, and soon enough, I tumbled to the metallic floor of the Bazaar. As always, a sense of vertigo and nausea twisted through my stomach, but it passed after only a few moments. Then, I climbed to my feet and looked around.

The Bazaar looked much as I remembered it, with a crowd of people going to and fro as they went about their business. Some were dressed in what I would consider normal clothing. None looked destitute, but their outfits were well-worn and meant for work. There were plenty of others that were obviously aristocrats, though. Men and women who’d made deals with aliens, exchanging their loyalty for prosperity.

Once, I might have blamed them. But now? I had seen the other end of the spectrum, and I could certainly understand why someone would make that choice if it meant they could avoid poverty. Still, I couldn’t help but look down on them. After all, their choice concerned more than their own fates. The entire world’s future hinged on their inability to stand on their own two feet.

Pushing such thoughts aside, I quickly got my bearings and headed down the familiar halls in search of Gala. It took some time – maybe an hour – to reach her cube-shaped premises, but when I finally arrived, I found that she looked much the same as she always had. Which is to say that her appearance had a definite bovine cast to it, making her look like nothing so much as a minotaur from ancient myths.

“Mira!” she exclaimed when I walked through her door. She threw her arms around my illusory form – a quirk of her class that she was able to manage that feat, I’m told – and hugged me tight. “What brings you here after so long? You’re not in trouble again, are you?”

“Uh…sort of?”

“What did you do?” Gala asked. The door slid shut behind me, ensuring our privacy. I didn’t think anyone would be so bold as to eavesdrop – or if they were, that a closed door would stop them – but I trusted that Gala had plenty of defenses in place to prevent unwanted listeners.

So, secure in the knowledge that I wouldn’t be overheard, I told Gala what had happened. First, I explained the ill-fated mission that had put me at odds with the Dingyts. She didn’t react well to that knowledge, berating me for getting mixed up with “the core.” I still wasn’t certain what that meant – context told me that those planets were home to the elite of the universe, but beyond that, I was clueless.

Next, I told her about my investigation of the Pacificians, and she confirmed what Freddy had already told me – they were bad news no matter how I looked at it. After that, she cautioned me to steer clear of them.

“They have a habit of getting their hooks in people,” Gala said. “Before you know it, you’re lining up to join their collective, convinced that it was your idea all along. I’ve seen it happen.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. If there was one thing I knew about myself, it was that I wasn’t likely to cede control, especially to a group of cyborg aliens connected to a hive mind. “But here’s the thing. I need to know about this group of aliens they’re allied with.” I told her what I knew of the elven Rift mining operation, then asked, “Am I missing anything? They’re not some ancient clan of powerful warriors, are they? No big surprises, right?”

Gala shook her head. “No. They’re probably not any stronger than a dozen other mining operations you’ve hit,” she said. “Maybe a little smarter, but that’s not saying much, given the sort of people who are willing to risk everything by mining on an unintegrated planet.”

“Anything I should know?”

“No. Not about them, at least. But I’ll tell you again, Mira – stay away from those Dingyts. They’re tricky little bastards,” she said.

“I know,” I muttered with a shake of my head. “The way they just snuck up on me – I didn’t even know they were there, Gala. I still have no idea how they did it.”

“Technology,” she said. “You’ve got good equipment, Mira. Your uncle made sure you had a head start on everyone else on your planet. But your gear, it’s basically trash to anyone from the core. Even on the outskirts, your weapons and armor are only a little better than average.”

“Well, sell me something better.”

“Can’t. Even if I had the inventory, the system won’t allow it.”

“Why not?” I asked, frustrated. I prided myself on having the best equipment possible, and while that was true – at least on Earth – the knowledge that others had better gear was like a needle in my mind.

“Officially, it’s because newly-Initialized planets aren’t responsible enough for the big guns,” Gala said. “If you had access to some of the truly powerful weapons out there, you’d all end up killing one another. By the time the Initialization was finished, there’d be nothing but a dead husk of a planet left. And given that the system was created to deal with the repercussions of the Mist, that runs counter to the whole point.”

“Who made the system, though?” I asked.

She shrugged her huge, furry shoulders. “I’ve no idea. It’s always been there,” she said. “People from the outskirts like me aren’t privy to that kind of information.”

I looked away in frustration. Every time I thought I was on the verge of figuring things out, someone told me I wasn’t allowed certain information. Given that, my ignorance wasn’t really all that surprising. The only time I learned anything about the wider universe was when I stumbled across something I couldn’t handle. I needed to change that, and fast, or else I was going to end up dead.

“What can you do for me, then?” I asked.

For a moment, I didn’t think Gala was going to answer. But then, she glanced around before using some sort of ability. In my illusory form, I couldn’t feel the swirl of Mist, but I’d seen enough skill activations to know one when I saw it. A moment later, she said, “Accept this information packet I’m about to send you.”

“What is it?” I asked as the indicated packet arrived on the edge of my interface. I let it in, sequestering it in the same partition I reserved for information I stole from hostile terminals. I trusted Gala, but not so far as to give her unfettered access to my system.

“A contact,” she said. “Information brokers are common in the wider universe. There’s only one on this station, though. He’s normally not available to people like you, but…well, he owes me a favor. He can give you all the information you need if you insist on going up against the Dingyts, the Pacificians, or anyone else on that little planet of yours.”

“And what’s this going to cost me?” I asked.

“No cost. Just consider it me making good on a debt I owed your uncle,” she said. “Speaking of – there’s something else in that packet. Something Jeremiah wanted you to have. Just…just don’t access that part until you’re back on the surface, okay?”

“He’s been dead for years, Gala. Why are you giving this to me now?” I asked.

“I wasn’t supposed to hand it over until after the Integration, but…well, I figure you deserve to see what he left for you,” she said.

“Do you know what it is?” I asked, trying my best not to dive right into the packet. I resisted the urge, though. I’d get the contact information for the broker, and then I’d worry about whatever my uncle had left me when I got back to my body on Earth.

She shook her head. “A message for sure,” she said. “But more than that, I don’t know. Jeremiah was a complicated man, and he wasn’t exactly open, even with me. And I like to think we were friends. As far as a man like that has friends, at least.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure if that was true, but Gala had always been a friend to me. That had to count for something.

In any case, I changed the subject, asking, “Any new arrivals? Did I tell you about the Dragon?”

That perked her right up, and she listened eagerly as I told her about the recent train heist – or more importantly, how I’d used my various weapons. When I’d finished, she said, “You get close too often. If it was me, I’d set up a mile or two away and just bombard my enemies with artillery.”

“That’s not always an option,” I said. Though even if it was, I knew I’d never go down that route. I liked to get up close and personal, which was why I loved using my nano-bladed sword so much. “That reminds me – do you have anything better than my sword?”

“Guns are always better, and I have plenty of those.”

“You know what I mean, Gala. C’mon. There’s got to be something more advanced available.”

“Guns. Even a bow and arrow is more advanced than a sword. There’s a reason warfare moved past blades.”

I fixed her with an annoyed glare. Finally, she rolled her bovine eyes and said, “Fine. There are options, I suppose. Energy blades are popular. So are elemental versions. You know, metal that’s been imbued with some sort of elemental effect. Like lightning or ice or some other nonsense. But if you ask me, I’ll always go with a nano-blade. Their sharp, no-nonsense, and you don’t have to worry about recharging them.”

“So, there’s nothing better?” I asked.

“I didn’t say that. That blade of yours is high quality. Don’t you doubt it one bit,” she said. “But there’s plenty of room for improvement. For instance, that metal is indicite. Good hardness. Solid durability. A great starter blade. But there are much better ones out there. You just don’t have the Constitution to use them yet.”

“What? I have plenty of Constitution,” I argued.

“You really don’t,” Gala countered with a snort. “Come back to me when it’s over a thousand, and we’ll do some business. Until then, that little blade is as good as you’re going to get.”

I sighed, then said, “Fine. I’m a weakling. I get it.”

“You’re not even twenty-five years old, girl. You think you can compete with people who’ve lived ten times as long? Of course not. You still have a long way to go.”

I knew she was right – especially after my recent losses – but that didn’t take the sting out of it. However, there was one good thing about having my own place in the universe confirmed. Sure, I wasn’t the strongest, but that just meant I had a lot of room to grow. And I knew precisely how to do that.

“What’re you smiling about?”

“Just thinking,” I said.

“About what?”

“That I’ve got a lot of training to do,” I said. Then, I added, “Thanks, Gala. I think I need to talk to that information broker, then get back to Earth as soon as possible. It occurs to me that I’m in no way ready for what’s coming.”