Invite
Chapter 7 - Act I - INGRESSION
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Chapter 7 - Invite
Paysha
Hicks and his sidekick continue to act in a taciturn manner, but only now does the oddity of them wearing skins strike me. Why dress up for little ol’ me if they’d hovered out here on a sudden whim of Lewey’s? I peer into their hover – tanks, melons, the works. They’d been prepping for a dive of their own before they spotted me. But Lewey and his crew don’t scavenge. He lets Stinkers like Tom and I scrape an honest living to fund his criminal extortion. A chill runs through my spine. Why does Lewey want to see me?
As I shift back behind my hover’s yoke to follow Lewey’s goons into the dragon’s lair, my right knee emits a twinge of pain. It’s an ominous signal of my hasty ascent from the Aleutia. I’d accepted long ago the laws of physics were the only certainty in my chaotic life. I just wish they didn’t make it so damn painful.
I receive a close escort as I pilot my hover through the Spire’s lock gates and berth alongside them at the makeshift landing stage. My gear will be safe here – from other criminals, at least. Py’s hackles have gone down, unlike mine. Hicks rebuffing all my questions means my Lewey alarm continues to screech inside my head. I need to ditch all pretence of helplessness. My banshee is in whole-hearted agreement, needing little incentive to rise to such an occasion. Py won’t be welcome upstairs, so I secure his leash inside my hover while Bosun ties up our craft. “You be a good boy for me. Back soon, I promise,” I say, with a parting hug.
Another stab of pain in my knee hits me as I disembark. Hicks knows a limp from sea-legs and I struggle to hide this chink in my armour. Despite my skin-tight garb, he scans me up and down for hidden weapons, whilst, with gritted teeth, I endure Bosun fumbling around to untie my scabbard. He throws it into my hover, triggering more furious barking from Py. Told to ‘move it’, I walk stiffly along the pontoons and up a wooden ramp, grimacing with the effort. My Sedna self-confidence trick often helps me negotiate Lewey’s traps and snares. But his hired help is coiled tighter today. ‘Additional caution is advised’ I tell myself, to which my hidden companion snorts in disgust.
I’m struggling to breathe as I reach the base of the Spire, yesterday’s rapid decompression compounding today’s hasty ascent. My body might be a dangerous cocktail of fizzing gas, but at least the precious content of my scavenge bag remains stowed in my hover. Hicks will be as eager as me to bring this tiresome charade to a swift conclusion.
The Spire’s post-Flood entrance is a crude hole gouged in one of the enormous buttresses forming a base to the whale-sized ribcage above. Since being carved out, a graffiti war has waged around it. Newly daubed in red since my last visit is a large upward-pointing arrow, tagged ‘Stairway To Hell’. But ‘heaven’ would be equally fatal.
…I manage to prevent the smirk being smacked off his face. She’s never far behind in these situations, but I don’t need her complicating my visit…
Hicks pauses, pressing his finger against an ear, then walks back down the ramp, leaving Bosun to keep his eyes on all of me. Py’s renewed snarling doesn’t stop him from boarding my hover. My heart sinks. He hasn’t retrieved my melon from under the bench, but my scavenge bag. Shit, shit, anything but that. On his return, he hefts it in front of my face with mock admonishment and my optimism dissolves like salt in water. Lewey has gained the upper hand without lifting a finger. The artefact may yet solve my outstanding debts with him, but I wanted it to do so much more. I wanted to use it to escape this water-bound hell; to grant me a life better than the one dealt to me by a natural conception.
Bosun mimics a ‘poor little girl’ pout as he turns to enter the Spire and I manage to prevent the smirk being smacked off his face. She’s never far behind in these situations, but I don’t need her complicating my visit upstairs, even if her bitchy retorts require no physical effort. A ringing in my right ear is another warning sign from my bubble-ridden body. Just stay focused, Pash. Don’t let your best ever find slip through your fingers.
The slap of hidden waves and a pervasive stench of decay rises from the gloomy depths where the elevator shaft plunges into the waters below. No-one – least of all the Spire’s architects – had foreseen the structure’s original entrance becoming submerged. I doubt those doors can part for anything bigger than an octopus fart. Fools have died trying. Lewey runs a tight ship, compliments of his rampant paranoia and obsessive compulsion to stay in control.
Hicks stabs a keypad and the elevator’s doors judder open. He enters and beckons me in. Bosun follows me and inserts a key into the control panel before thumbing the observation deck button. He’s uncomfortably close, and I turn to face the closing doors. Another nagging pain joins the others as we ascend, this one in my left shoulder. A woman’s sixth sense tells me Bosun’s eyes are still wandering. Then he opens his mouth. I didn’t have high hopes, but his conversation starter is tediously familiar: “What happened to yer tits, Stinker?”
I sigh loudly without answering, my growing collection of pains reducing my idiot-handling capacity. But she’s often ready to step up on these occasions and doesn’t disappoint today: “Same as what’ll happen to your balls if you keep asking questions,” she snaps.
There’s a sharp intake of breath and I keep staring at the doors. My young inquisitor comes closer, leaning over my right shoulder. I can smell his last meal, despite the dank stink of his little-used skins. “What’s that then, darlin’?” he hisses into an ear that’s already resonating like a diving bell.
I turn my head to look straight into a pair of narrowed, cheap blue-dyed eyes, split by a boxer’s nose and set atop a curling lip. “Sliced off and incinerated,” she clarifies.
There’s a snort from behind me as I face the doors again. I let the brighter half of the dynamic duo educate his dim apprentice: “She’s a failed Rebirther, mate,” says Hicks. “Still got the bad genes – and the bad luck. Probably on a tick-tock. Not worth it, believe me.”
It’s a fair summary, if somewhat harsh. But Bosun’s machismo can’t help having the last word: “Bet she’s still got time left for a quick bit o’ fun though. Ain’t yer, Stinker?” he says, jabbing what could be a finger into my hip, his groin grazing my buttocks.
“Well, if being quick is what you’re good at,” I reply. She’s in fine form, basking in the ramped-up tension.
He pauses, cognitive gears straining. “It takes ages to go down in here, you titless wonder. ‘Specially for short-lived muties like you. Plenty of time to learn what I like, before you go rot with the rest of your Stinker sludge.” His hand whips up to grab my chin, squeezing my cheeks in a vice of man-made muscle. But she’s way ahead of him and he fails to turn my head, my body as taut as a new-strung fence. There’s a dismissive grunt as he releases me, before his failure becomes obvious. My shoulders are throbbing with pain, not all because of Bosun.
My wayward alter-ego presses her advantage. “You’re still pushing the wrong buttons, bellboy,” she taunts, before the coup de grâce: “I’ve been dying to ask. Which one of you insists on wearing the knee pads? Because no-one downstairs seems to know.”
“Right, that’s it, you smart-ass slut,” barks my irksome lift-buddy, pushing past Hicks to hit the stop button. A hairy hand clamps onto Bosun’s forearm with a rapidity which belies Hicks’s apparent age. “Ignore her. She’s always like this,” he growls. “You know the rules. Guv’nor’s business first. You can get to know each other later.”
It’s a double-edged reprieve, as my pains multiply with our ascent. Silence reigns until a discordant ping announces our arrival. As the doors slide open, she can’t resist a final flourish: “Lucky us, saved by the bell. But you’ve been delightful company, whoever you are.” Recapturing her, I step into the den of Lewey Xivy Greaterex the Third – and hopefully the last.
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I was wondering similar questions about our strange protagonist. Obviously you will be explaining what rebirther means later...
Is the picture a good likeness of what she looks like?