"I fucking hate sewers," I said as we stepped up that last step and out into the pre-dawn light.

Over the last eight hours or so we'd merged with other armed groups, then split, then joined up with two different Samurai before Eve left us to join up with a Chinese Samurai who communicated with us through her AI. The Samurai was touring the world.

I stayed with Digger, the first overweight Samurai I'd ever seen, while Eve accepted the woman's invitation to continue on with the Chinese Samurai.

Digger laughed about his weight half way through the sewer crawl by making jokes about his beer belly, which was visible through the almost completely clear armor he wore. It was hard to make out the outlines, but his armor was bulky and bubbly. Like he was walking around in a Stay-Puff marshmallow costume that was see through.

During one discussion he said the suit wasn't really see through, that it was all a painted media screen type deal. If so it was some sort of tier two tech because I hardly noticed it at all. The man looked like he was strolling through the sewers in jeans and a tee-shirt with bowling league advertisement.

"Truth is," he said at one point, "I'm still married to my wife- A lot of marriages don't survive winning the lotto or becoming a Samurai. All that stress, but on two people instead of one. It's hard. We tried flesh sculpting ourselves into models. Don't get me wrong the sex was great, but she was always just so-so in the looks department her whole life and she hated all the attention, envy, and frankly, people trying to fuck her. So we changed back to our frumpy pre-Samurai bodies and we couldn't be happier."

He was surprisingly easy to talk to and while he tried to include Sara, he and I did most of the talking.

"Listen mate," Digger said as he reached street level, "I had a blast speaking with you. We grill out fairly often and if you'd like to-" he paused. Then I saw him give a little shake inside his mostly transparent bubble suit.

"I asked my AI to nag me, sort of help me break my bad habits. He was just reminding me that I shouldn't leave get togethers hanging. So what do you say we get together in a month, I grill out most of the time, hard not to when a single point can buy a freezer full of meat and a cooler full of beer."

I hesitated and I could see the emotions wash over his face.

"Yes," I said. Then realizing my helmet was fully opaque. I popped the seals and pulled it off. I hesitantly breathed in, even though I'd already talked to Max about doing something with my nose so it wasn't overly bothered with the smell.

It wasn't horrid, but I could could smell the filth that clung to us all.

"I would like that, but I've got a lot of work to do."

He nodded, "Sure sure. Everyone is busy. No worries mate. Just reach out when you have a chance."

He stuck out his hand and I shook it.

"A month from now," I said looking up from his hand to his face.

"In a month," I said sealing myself to the deal, "bring the wife down to me and I'll show you around the city and hopefully by then I have made the tower at least livable. We can grill out there? Unless you'd prefer to do it at your place?"

"I figure we could use the vacation," Digger said with a grin.

"Sara," Digger said, "It was an absolute pleasure to meet you. Make sure to keep this one in line."

"Will do sir," she said with a half bow.

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it.

The vehicle that arrived to pick him up was more cargo bus than car, but more cargo container than bus.

"What's next Max?" I asked.

The priority list popped up on the screen as a list of text instead of her reading out the next thing. A video window opened as well and began playing.

"You asked me to keep an eye on JoJo the ex-Operative. She was injured."

It was the crowded room at the sweatshop. The old women were working behind the sewing machines. A teenaged girl ran into the room, looked around and then started to climb stacks of clothing to each a small window she couldn't fit through.

Moments later three men appeared with clubs. Some of the older women were standing and tried to get in the way of the men. They were struck in the heads or legs with some force before the men grabbed the struggling younger woman and began dragging her backward.

"How far is that from here?" I asked.

"Just over an hour away with the current state of the Solar Flare."

"Track her and get me information on everyone in that facility."

Three hours later, upon opening a cell door, I was surprised to find that JoJo was not the young lady who had repaired the sewing machine and ran from the guards but one of the older women working the sewing machines.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

It took less than ten minutes to convince her she should come work for me, and six hours to track all of her family down. They'd taken the raid to be a legal thing and scattered. I'd seen slavery on the videos, but everything was technically legal indentureship or criminals working off their time.

I robbed a lot of people in the organization of credits anyway. Called it a fine for sub-humane conditions. Then I bought tickets for thirty-three different people on one of the few passenger transports that could get them to the Helios building without changing vehicles, companies, or services more than thirty times.

I reached out to Cold Brew on the flight back to Helios just to say hi and ask him to the cook out in a month. He politely said maybe.

Next I spent far too many hours getting to know the people who lived and worked in and around the Helios building. I received several hundred free blue prints from different Samurai Max contacted on my behalf, as well as a double handful of "Fuck off" or variants in other languages.

I asked to meet with an All Bright PMC business partner and then closed the connection on her when I couldn't get a simple price in credits. She kept trying to force agreement and long term partnerships.

With Max's help I reached out the gang leader that used to hold us up for a few cash credits on the subway.

"Listen, uh, sir. Whatever I owe you man, you can, like, have that back with interest right. I was just doing my job is all."

"I'm not calling about that I'm calling because- What do you mean doing your job?"

I was so surprised to find out he worked for the transit authority and that his job was to make sure no transients or homeless people stayed on the train that I forgot to offer him the job of guarding the Solar Flare.

Guarding the Solar Flare was one of those meaningless jobs any Samurai could automate or do away with. But it would allow credits to flow back into working class wallets.

"Max bring up the priority list."

I looked over it.

"Bring up the candidates and the roles. Is this the updated list?" It was.

"I guess we start with the accountants. Call Mr. Baily please."

There were a few rings and then someone picked up.

"Hello?" he said somewhat sleepily.

"Mr. Baily? This is Fr- The Taxman. I'm a Samurai."

"Is my daughter safe?" he asked suddenly wide awake.

"I'm umm, not sure about-"

"She is safe," Max said, "she is currently engaged in coitus with her boyfriend and his girlfriend."

Even though Max was talking to me in the way I knew meant it was private I paused, my thoughts derailed.

"My AI says she is fine sir. I was calling to speak to you about a job, err, employment with- I want you to work for me."

"This is not an appropriate time to be calling for non-emergencies," he said.

"I realize that now sir- Sir? Did you hang up on me?"

"He did cut the connection," Max said.

"I guess, extend to him a written offer. Do it for the top four candidates we have listed for each role."

I sighed, pulling up other lists.

"Call Paula," I said.

It only rang three times before she picked up. I'd been authorized for internal cameras long before the incursion. So the view I got wasn't a estimation of her face based on augments and voice patterns, something the systems did when there were no cameras. Instead I got the rooms corner camera zoomed in on her head on a pillow.

"Ish thish impotent nough re-mivvv moth-pith?" It was garbled, but I knew what she was asking; Is this important enough to remove her mouthpiece?

"No," I said. I wanted to do most of the talking after all.

"Sara and I are headed back in a busted ass ship," I said with a smile. The outside of the ship was still just as visibly damaged as before but much of the display had moved from red to orange, with some of the issues going to yellow. Electrical systems were easy to repair or replace when the weapons on the other end no longer needed power. Those had been swapped out and the nanites were repairing the damaged cables. Every laser gun that wasn't damaged, could fire again. The cameras had all been replaced so I once again had true vision instead of sections that were estimated by AI.

Those were the only two systems that were back in the green.

"I expect to be insanely busy for the next four or five days, and then even busier after that. I know you said you didn't want a place in all of this but I wanted to let you know we can find, or make a space for you."

I saw her shift in bed and then rewrap in the blankets. They were thick insulated blankets on top to keep the heat out. Then a mylar sheet, then the cooling water lined blanket, then a normal sheet. They were the one luxury that wasn't really a luxury. Even at night temperatures only dropped to eighty degrees in the middle of the concrete and glass jungle.

"No," she said.

"Thanks for considering it," I said. And I meant it. I knew she would stay involved with her work.

"I'll message you when we get back," I said.

"You okay?" she asked.

I paused for long enough that she slipped the mouthpiece out and swung the blankets off to sit up.

Sill I said nothing.

How was I meant to complain to her, someone who worked each and ever day to help trafficked and abused sex workers, that I felt a deep dark hole inside myself after killing a rapist.

"Tell me," she said leveraging her girth up, "I'm going to make tea."

"You don't have to," I said.

She paused, and though I couldn't hear it, I could see her laugh in the camera feed.

I waited until she made the tea, moved to sit on the room's only chair, and then said, "I'm ready."

Until that point I really hadn't planned on saying anything. But over twenty minutes or so it all came tumbling out. It was out of order and messy, but I eventually stopped talking.

"I'm sorry that man put you in a place where you had to do that," she said.

I felt like I should be crying. That I wanted to cry, but that there was nothing there. I said as much.

To my utter shock she laughed, and I could hear it.

"Freddy," she said softly, "It's called trauma love. It disconnects us, pushes us away from ourselves so that we can do what we need to to survive. It will get better. That's the bit you have to cling to. That it will get better. But love, it won't get better quickly. Even if you watch sad clips from the feed and have yourself a good cry and think you've found a way around it. You'll be lying to yourself. The important thing now is to make sure you get enough food, water, and sleep. You can't listen to your body because it will claim it's not hunger, thirsty, or tired. It's not lying to you, it's just disconnected."

She spoke for a bit, then made another cup of tea and began asking me questions. Only when I realized the sun was rising in her windows did I realize I'd kept her awake all night. I apologized for keeping her awake and tried to get off the connection.

"Freddie," she said as she stood up. "You sound fucked up and on edge. I can reach out to people, see if anyone can get you in?"

"A shrink?" I joked.

"No," she said. "The other thing."

Silence stretched.

"They are women I trust Freddie. You know that I wouldn't suggest-"

"I get it," I said, "But you need to get ready for work and I need to keep working."

"You know we have a couple episodes to catch up on?" she asked.

I froze. I hadn't even realized we'd missed them. It felt like I'd let her down in a way I couldn't put my finger on. Like this was a far larger deal than it was. Was it proof we were drifting apart or-

"Give me four days, Max make an appointment in four days with Paula. We are going to catch up on a shitty media show."

"Let me know when and where," she said.