Chapter Nine – Halfstar

Chapter Nine – Halfstar

“Logistics are life.

It’s a bit unsubtle, but it’s better than being shanked by a hobo.”

–Sgt. Aaron Fenzer – The True American Army’s Logistics Division, 2048

***

The maintenance elevator might have been faster, but it was also cramped, jittery, and felt like a place where someone could easily die.

“Oh, wow,” I said after we hit a particularly jarring bump. “I had Myalis pull up the records, and this elevator was last inspected in 2045.”

“I was like, three years old then,” Raccoon said.

I nodded. “Next time, I think we can use the non-shortcut.”

“We’re in something of a hurry,” Gomorrah said. She was off to one side, hand wrapped around one of the metal poles reaching up to the ceiling. The elevator didn’t have completed walls. Instead it was lined by a cage on four sides that ended at about hip-height. It meant that we got to see the bare structure of the building as we slid down. Cracked concrete, exposed rebar, and the occasional open vent where glowing eyes watched us pass.

The elevator jerked to a stop, and the cage slid most of the way open just as the door squealed apart.

“This is it,” Raccoon said as she squeezed out ahead and stepped into a dingy corridor. It was all graffiti-covered drywall, with the occasional hole punched into it. Lights hung from the ceilings, some of them working enough that they illuminated the boxes here and there where the homeless lived.

Had lived—none of those I saw had anyone in them.

“The Halfstar is one level down,” Raccoon said.

“Alright, lead on.”

Gomorrah and I walked side-by-side behind Rac, the girl bouncing ahead with near-manic energy. “Has anything changed in this area recently?” Gomorrah asked.

“Yeah, there were aliens.”

“Aliens?” I asked.

“You know, plant xenos. From the incursion. Some of them made it this far out, but then some samurai like you swept in. We had a whole lot of soldiers down here too, but only for a day or so before they left.”

“And that’s why there isn’t anyone around?” I asked.

Rac shrugged. “I guess. When the incursion happened, I went topside, hid in one of the big shelters. They had free food. I bet a lot of homeless did that too. Online, they say that there’s a lot of opportunity right after an incursion. Lots of companies pick up new employees for the factories from all the people who lost their homes and stuff.”

“Huh,” I said. Likely easy pickings. Desperate people would grab onto any contract in a pinch. “You don’t like that kind of work?”

“I’d love to work in a factory,” Rac said. “Just doing the same thing all day. I could save up some credits, buy one of those story-generating machines. You know, with, like, an AI writing a story for you, then reading it aloud? Just zone out all day.”

That sounded awful. “If that’s what you want, then why didn’t you try to find work?” Gomorrah asked.

“Too young. Most corporations are real careful about hiring anyone under eighteen, because there’ve been some samurai that kicked up a fuss about child labour, and no one wants their factory burned down.”

“Maybe we can find you some better work then,” I said.

“Really?” Raccoon asked.

“Really?” Gomorrah repeated.

“Hey, I have a whole new building that needs cleaning and stuff. And we’re basically rich, aren’t we?” I asked. Plus, Raccoon reminded me a lot of my Kittens. A bit dirtier (and that was saying something) but she had that same energy about her. She was tough.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“That would be incredible! I’ll work really hard, and for cheap too. And I promise I won’t sell most of your trash!”