My Sachigrapple bit into the metal of Hinote’s fake eye, and as his line pulled taut, it jerked me toward it, but mine held firm. I slowly retracted the grapple, hoping it didn’t break from the bulk of Hinote. I felt disoriented. Though my belt and wire connected me, it still felt like I was holding onto life by the small amount of space that the hooks’ handgrips provided. Though it was a strain for me, the flaring yellow Sachi running through the grapple cut Hinote’s weight by a fourth if I remember right, my suit supplementing what I lacked in muscle to keep a hold on the handle as the line whirred, pulling Hinote up.

I stopped retracting the line once Hinote was near his spot again, and he hooked in.

“Don’t you fucking look down again. I don’t know how much Sachi this grapple has left in it,” I shouted down, panting.

Hinote’s face was covered in sweat, his yellow eye leaking Sachi out of a jagged hole. He held on tight to his set hooks, nearly hugging the wall, but managed to look up at me. “Thank you, Nin. God. Thank you.”

“Ready when you are,” I said.

“Let’s fuckin’ go. Get this over with.”

I didn’t look down until I was safely on the metal grating of the maintenance platform. The burning plastic smell of the Sachi filled my nostrils, and I had to take small gulps of the air before I adjusted to the poison.

The golden mansion far below was in sharp contrast with the rest of the dim, trash-filled, sometimes faintly yellow-glowing Twelve Meeks. To the north, Meek Alfrendil still burned.

Hinote panted, sitting down a moment on the grating and looking down. Shun came and took a knee next to me, a comfort as I watched our home burn.

Meek Pox still smoldered like a dying ember, and Meek Disson smoked.

“Sky fell,” I said.

Hinote grunted. “From up here, when they all small like that, it really makes you wonder why they don’t just leave,” he said.

I thought of my conversation with Ai about this. Why didn’t they just leave? I breathed in the thick smell of Sachi. Funny how it smelled new and foreign up there, even though down below I was breathing it in constantly.

“It’s their home. No amount of poison can change that,” I said. Shun looked up at me from her crouching position.

“I know that. I just mean … From up here, it just feels like that. Like those problems just seem so small. No wonder Andalaf has no problem with what he’s doin’. He don’t see humans, he sees a buncha fuckin’ insects that won’t just get over it and leave the Meeks.”

“Yeah. I think it does something to you,” I said. “Something you can’t even help. When you’re in a place so far removed. To see these pea cans and little boxes as homes is nearly impossible. It looks like a fucking trash can. Anyone who chooses to live in garbage must be insane, inhuman.”

“Well,” Shun added, “you two should apply for a job with Andalaf. What with all of this empathy you’re developing for the company.”

Hinote laughed. “Hey, man. Just ‘cause I don’t agree doesn’t mean I can’t understand. It’s awful. You gotta fuckin’ keep in touch with that piece, the human piece, while you know at the same time why—why the motherfuckers up here so goddamn disconnected.”

“Everyone’s got fucking opinions,” I said. “Let’s save our energy to get Ai back. Maybe we can tell Andy Andalaf the true song of our hearts when we get to the top of his tower.”

“You’re a fuckin’ confusin’ chick to talk to, you know that?” Hinote said.

Shun laughed, almost a little too hard, at this comment.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I smiled. “Opinions. The both of you. You ready, Hinote?”

“I’ve been fine. Why ain’t you askin’ Shun?”

“Because Shun is fine. Meanwhile, you are panting and sweating on the metal grating. All that muscle weighing you down, eh?”

That got him to his feet. “Listen, shithead.”

I raised my hands up. “Kidding.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Hinote said, still approaching me too quickly for comfort.

He raised his hand and his gun. I commanded my suit to release the Sachiknives in my forearm.

In a motion that I did not think Hinote capable of, he embraced me tightly, nearly crushing me but for the protection of my suit. It was … the hug of a brother. He patted my back.

“Thank you, Nin. For catchin’ me back there,” he said, his chin on my left shoulder. He backed up to face me, putting a hand on my shoulder and locking his one good eye on my left, his Sachi eye acting buggy, flicking up and down, but at least the Sachi had all drained out of it. “Toshiko thanks you as well. She can be a bit of a hardass—”

“She can be?” I said.

Hinote chuckled. “I suppose she gets it from me. But seriously, my guts would be paintin’ that gold piece o’ shit down there.”

I almost smiled. “There’s gonna be a lot more of that up above, so don’t thank me yet. I’m gonna need you, and you, Shun. And I want you to both slot this lightning Sachi.”

“Fuck that,” Shun said.

“Shun, there are three of us against the entire Andalaf Tower. We need to do something.”

“I’m not going to use it,” Shun said.

“Mine will be chaotic. I don’t have anything to slot it into. You both have weapons with slots. I need you to use it,” I said, anger rising.

“I’m not—”

“I’ll use it, Nin. Thanks,” Hinote said, giving Shun a look.

I handed the yellow lightning Sachi gem to Hinote, then brought the bag of powder—which I didn’t remember taking out—up to my nose. I took a long snort and felt immediate relief from my fatigue and the fog that was threatening to cover my awareness. My anger at Shun cooled under the sweet peace of the Sachi, my preferred type, and I stashed the other two Sachi gems in my suit.

“I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“I know, it’s fine, Shun,” I said. “We have to get going.” I moved up the ladder in the middle of the platform. To either side of the platform were two of the large generators that were attached all across this part of the Upper-Plateau’s underside, converting the Sachi from the drills into energy that powered the entirety of the Upper-Plateau. They glowed with yellow veins, much like the other various types of Sachi gear I use, but they pulsed like inactive bombs. I felt connected to them, like they were a heartbeat, beating in rhythm with my own pulsing heart that pumped the drug through my veins.

We climbed up ten levels, the generators becoming more wide like inverted plateaus, as we got closer to the surface.

“You think it’s locked?” Hinote asked. I shook my head.

“They would never think Under-City people capable of climbing that pillar. So good job, big man.”

“Careful. I’ll call you Chudo-girl again.”

“That’s fine. I know you only called me that ‘cause you’re insecure inside,” I said.

“The fuck did you—”

I climbed the small ladder and spun the wheel to open the door. Bright Sachilight filled the platform, and I was momentarily blinded.

“What the fuck? Stan? Is that you? Billy, you remember Stan going down there?” I heard a voice saying from above. I looked back to Hinote and Shun below me. I held a hand up to signal them to wait, and I took my knives out. I readied myself, and my suit responded to the adrenaline. I climbed one more rung and bent my knees. When the two heads poked over the circular hole, I pounced upward, knives to either side and once I was above them, I drove the knives into the spinal column, right where it connects to the brain on the back of the neck. I spread my legs, caught myself above the hole, and, keeping my knives buried inside of their necks, pulled my two victims over to the side.

Shun and Hinote climbed up after, both quickly and ready for a fight. I shook my head at them, laying the two maintenance men to the side and wiping my knives on their shirts. Their blood pooled together in the middle of the floor. The room was dirty, a glorified mop closet with tools scattered here and there on crooked shelves. There was a desk with a saw on it and a metal protective mask for welding. The paint was grey, and now that my eyes had adjusted, I saw that it was pretty dimly lit by Sachi lamps, though it was still better light than we were getting anywhere in the Under-City. Even the maintenance men in their messy closets got better Sachilight than those of the Twelve Meeks. With names like Billy and Stan, these guys were Upper-Plateau natives. Those of us from the Twelve Meeks had more traditional names.

“Uniforms?” Hinote said.

“Seems like the best bet. I don’t think you’ll fit, Hinote,” I said. “Just two anyway.”

“Just go out and see what’s up. Then we’ll talk,” Hinote said.

I once again dressed in Andalaf clothes, playing the part of a puppet.