Chapter Six

HabCom Three

They emerged from the tunnel about a mile further west. The path sloped up towards the shroud of dark sky, onto the arid flatlands that would take them all the way to the Underground. An old railroad ran adjacent. Oxford gestured in its general direction that they follow. But no one, bar Agloff, seemed to be paying attention. He scuffed his shoes against the tracks, only to raise his chin to see what the others were looking at.

Above the horizon, the sky was smitten with a rosy glow as stacks of smoke climbed into the dark. March Town was ablaze in the distance. The husks of time gone were charred into permanent silhouette beneath the flames. Memphis drew his arms across Merry and Lady. Together, they watched, strangely captivated. Agloff stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned his shameful gaze to the darkness. The air felt coarse on his tongue.

‘What you thinking?’ Agloff said behind Ariea who stooped her head, scraping the mud from under her fingernails.

‘You tell me. The world’s a pretty shitty place is the headline.’

He reached a hand to her shoulder and she seemed to recoil at the motion.

‘Nothing new then,’ Agloff joked. He wanted to slap himself. What a stupid thing to say. ‘You okay?’ he added to her silence, in a vain attempt to correct the error. But the more he tried to correct himself, the worse it got.

She shrugged. That meant no. But Agloff knew better than to keep asking. Even if not doing so set his mind on edge. ‘This disease, it’s them. It’s Winter. And you being immune. I get a feeling that isn’t coincidence,’ she said. Her whole presence shook with her words, as though some coiled viper punched against the walls of her stomach, waiting to burst free.

‘What do you mean by that?’ Agloff felt a twinge of offence.

‘Oh, just a feeling,’ she said, shrugging.

Time came that Oxford ordered them to move on, and they silently obeyed. They trudged single file across the rocky plains, guided only by the light of the stars. As far as Agloff could tell, the land was uniform in every direction. It was some giant basin, circled by distant ridges of upturned rock. Darker shapes against the background of stars. It wasn’t until the sky had ripened to a shade of blue discernible from black that they knew they were close.

Cerberus yawned across the dawn sky, parting it in two. It was like a ghost, its silvery features tinted blue, like the moon in the daytime.

‘Weirdly pretty, isn’t it?’ Oxford said noticing Agloff ogle the sky.

Agloff wanted to look away but couldn’t help himself. ‘I think it’s kinda creepy.’ His eyes traced it towards the horizon, where the plane of the ring looked squashed by the haze of atmosphere. ‘Like it’s not meant to be there.’

‘They built it,’ Oxford surmised.

‘They?’

‘They. The people who left.’

‘Why would they make it and then just leave?’

Oxford raked an arm through his mess of hair. ‘I do not think that was their intention.’

‘How so?’

‘My mum said it like this: the ones before us built Cerberus to guard the earth. To save it, from dying.’

Agloff crooked his head to one side. ‘What, like a shield?’

‘No, to power it. But the people in charge changed, and their minds changed like the wind. So mum said. She said people in charge are always like that.’ Agloff’s mind immediately ran to Warden Drake. How she had wavered from wanting to kick him out to hold him at Backwater, under guard night and day. He could not disagree. ‘They moved on instead.’

‘So, they just left it behind? Like that?’

‘Like that.’ Oxford swallowed. ‘They left it to guard us. This is a prison after all.’

Then, the Underground fizzled into view on a distant mirage, at the edge of the sand-coloured basin. Agloff noticed a smattering of grey shapes, growing in the haze. They glinted in the early morning sun. According to Oxford, the Underground had spilled onto the over-ground. An installation of solar panels powered the entire city. Some kind of powerplant was connected to them, via what looked like a small outhouse. There was no grand entrance hall, no surface bunker. No traps or perimeter fences. Just a single entrance, and a single exit at the outhouse. Modest was an understatement. One could be forgiven for assuming there was nothing beneath the surface here at all, but Agloff supposed that was the idea. Or such was their arrogance no one would ever attack this place.

The way in was guarded by two soldiers, clad in white. Oxford flashed them his identification and they nodded. There was a whir and the door of the outhouse cranked open. One-by-one, they filtered down into their new home. Agloff felt cold. It was brought by a feeling that he would not be able to leave this place. His basest instinct was to turn and run, for fear the Underground might suffocate him. But he was here for a reason; Marty had answers he needed.

The tunnel within bloomed in a conical shape and fencing and railing began to spring up along its sides. More white figures patrolled the tunnels, swords sheathed to their backs and balaclavas drawn across their faces. Heads tilted in the party’s direction. A second set of guards confiscated their bags, insisting they would be delivered following inspection. The path split into four lines, marked along the decking from 1 to 4. Each HabCom, Agloff presumed. Oxford had said the Underground was four massive silos, a hundred floors deep and strung together. Once their bags were removed, a guard indicated they step through a metal detector. It stayed silent for all but Oxford, and they were waved down the way.

As they passed the checkpoint, into HabCom Three, Agloff thought he could hear beaten sobs from beyond. The outlines of men, women and children were hunched under blankets behind the grating, siphoned into cages. A child moped across the floor, barefoot and his frame shrunken. Agloff couldn’t help but stare. They were clothed in sacks, numbered and tagged at their wrists. A sign above the cage read: ‘awaiting transit’. Agloff cast uneasy glances at Oxford who shook his head. It was then he understood. The world Drake had told him about. The world he had been too naïve to understand. But he understood now.

These were the undesirables. The people unlike him, who were not the object of Fall’s affections. He choked his feelings down into his throat.

‘You see,’ Memphis said.

‘Who are those people?’ said Agloff.

‘Prisoners,’ replied Oxford bluntly.

Agloff glanced again. ‘Don’t really look like it.’

Oxford scowled. Agloff could sense his offence. ‘You break the law, you get punished.’

Adverse to an argument, Agloff pulled his eyes away and considered his surroundings. The Underground didn’t have the sheen he expected. And it looked smaller, at least on Floor 1. Rather, it was like what Agloff had imagined the fuselage of a starship to look like. It was minimalist, stripped to its essentials. The walls of rock were restrained only by sheets of metal grating. Racks of dim lighting ran down the narrow entrance hall, past the cages. Everything looked sharp and angular. There was an aggression in how the place and its people carried themselves.

So this was the place Agloff had so much about? Stories of a magnificent city burrowed into the crust of the Earth. He expected a grace, a grandeur, he daresay decadence. But reality was the opposite. It was functional, like a piece of folding furniture. And yet, still it overwhelmed his senses, his childlike hankering for wonder. He wanted to run his fingers along the walls and explore every intimate detail. It was a new world all the same.

Then, a flock of white-clad guards marched in from the next room. They parted into a guard of honour and a woman walked between them. Her frizzy hair was pegged back into a loose bun. She looked a little older than Oxford, well-built, with olive skin and a ferocity in her stride. She stood with her legs apart and hands at her hips with a forced authority. Her vest was washed by grease and dirt into a brownish-white. She matched her surroundings, thought Agloff.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

‘They’ve been looking forward to having you,’ Oxford said to Agloff.

‘Blue!’ the woman exclaimed. At once, she studied Agloff, as if sizing him up for a meal.

Oxford fumbled beside her. ‘Yes, Lieutenant?’

‘This the cargo?’ She looked from Agloff to Ariea and then took a scornful glance at Merry, Memphis and Lady. They hunched as a guard desecrated them in search of concealed weapons.

‘Yes, Lieutenant.’

‘I seem to recall in assignment there were two targets. An eighteen-year-old male and an eighteen-year-old female. So why have you brought me an entire orphanage? Need I remind you of the law, Special Operative?’

‘No, Lieutenant, but—’

‘Then we’ll throw them on the surface at the start of the next day cycle. Or put them in Transit.’

‘Yes, Lieutenant but—’

The woman ordered Ariea to step back and took to circling Agloff with extreme prejudice. After three orbits she stepped back and scoffed. ‘Introduce us, Blue.’

Oxford puffed his cheeks and mouthed an apology to Agloff and Ariea. ‘Lieutenant Miller, this is Agloff Ashborne and Ariea Finland. Over there is Memphis Teller, Meredith Cutter and Lady. Guys, this is Lieutenant Miller. My superior. She sets my assignments to other forts.’

Miller scoffed and reached out a hand to Agloff. ‘Don’t ever let him tell you I’m a diplomat. Those desk dwellers tell him where to go. I just tell him how to get it done.’ Miller then gestured Memphis, Merry and Lady. ‘You three can stay the night. I’ll have cells prepped, and a meal. Next sunrise, I’ll have someone escort you so far. Then you’re free to go wherever.’

Three white knights surrounded them, herding them like cattle through the hall and out of sight. They didn’t even have time to say goodbye.

‘Sorry, Lieutenant but they have nowhere to go.’

‘Well, Operative, perhaps you shoulda thought of that before you picked them from wherever you picked them up from.’

‘They lived at March Town, but it got hit by pilgrims. Only survivors.’

Miller groaned and thought a moment. ‘Fine. I’ll send them to Nine and clear basic privileges for them. Pull a string or two since I owe a favour,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Blue.’ Oxford looked at Miller suggestively and nodded his head towards the door. There was an eagerness in his step. ‘Yeah, go on then. Go see her. I’ll take them from here. And Blue… I appreciate circumstance, but the law is the law. Even if they stay, you’ll face Discipline.’

Oxford gave a ‘so-what’ shrug of his shoulders. ‘How bad?’

‘No out-of-Hab assignments… for a month… at least.’

Oxford said nothing. He vanished into the bowels of the Underground.

‘He was eager,’ Ariea pointed out, arms tightly folded. She looked defensive all of a sudden. Agloff gave her an encouraging look, but she turned away.

‘You don’t have to make small talk with me,’ Miller chuckled. ‘Believe me, awkward silence is less awkward. His fiancée’s down here. She’s nice enough. Plain girl though. Just down here.’ She crooked a finger at them, and they headed whence she came. They passed into a narrow corridor lined by lockers. At its end, Miller hauled back folding doors to the transit shaft. She nodded for them to enter.

‘One hundred,’ she said, and the cage hummed. It jolted and the layers of rock, and shadow began to flitter past them as the carriage chuntered down the shaft.

‘So, you’re the cargo. What’s special about you?’ Miller asked, eying Agloff up once more.

‘I ask myself the same,’ he said. ‘They didn’t tell you?’

She shook her head. ‘Didn’t need to know, didn’t ask. But now seeing you, I can’t see why Fall would give a shit about you.’

‘Thanks,’ Agloff muttered.

‘And you know Marty Naples, right?’

‘Did,’ Agloff corrected. It had been a long time. Agloff was eager to see him. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms. He had said he was leaving to fix things. Whatever that meant.

‘Will Merry and Memphis be okay?’ Ariea cut in.

Miller sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can do. Worse comes to worst, they’ll be put in transit.’

‘The cage thing upstairs?’ Agloff said it with all the contempt he dare muster.

‘We don’t call them that, but sure.’

‘HabCom Three, Level Hundred, Palace of Governance: welcome.’

The lift came to a shuddering halt and Miller levered the doors open.

A skinny, white-haired man stood beaming at them. Folds of skin hung from his fatless jowls, with cheekbones Agloff thought he could cut himself on. The man gasped with a hyperbolic giddiness and strode forwards. The ripples of his gown flowed like silky liquid. He fondled his whiskers, then extended his arms. Flanking him were a dozen of the sword-wielding knights of the Underground.

From the passage, rooms and alleys jutted off in all directions. It was lit by candles adorned in golden casings. Plinthed artwork punctuated their steps and the eyes of a hundred portraits watched their approach. Walls of red brick bent into an arch over their heads. Agloff imagined it like the earthly castles of a thousand generations ago. Everything was lined in gold, with a decadent charm. More so even that Warden Drake’s offices. This was as his mind’s eye had dreamt it.

‘Governor Fall, Sir,’ Miller said, kicking a heel into the ground and straightening her arm in salute. ‘This is the acquisition Sir, courtesy of Operative Blue; Agloff Ashborne and Ariea Finland.’

The man’s smile strained wider. ‘Ah, wonderful, wonderful.’ He extended the tips of his fingers for them each to shake. When they were done, he held his hand to one of his guards who knelt by his side, scrubbing each finger with a wet wipe. Governor Fall then drew his robe across his chest as if to protect against the dirt in the air. ‘Agloff Ashborne. Such a delight,’ he added, pursing his lips shut by the tips of his ringed fingers. ‘We’ll get you both cleaned up. That is all Miller.’ The Lieutenant nodded and disappeared.

‘Sir,’ Ariea said with a feigned politeness. ‘We had some friends with us. Merry Cutter and Memphis Teller from March Town. It was destroyed by pilgrims, could you make sure they stay?’ She shot a look at Agloff, flashing her eyebrows. What did I do? he mumbled in his head.

Fall’s mouth quivered. He bit his lip and smirked like he had started sucking on a lemon. ‘Of course,’ he said, waving. ‘I’ll see to it myself. I’d like to welcome you most splendidly to my personal chambers. What’s mine is yours now. I would see it that you have all your needs met.’

‘I thought you’d have lived up at the top,’ said Agloff.

‘Ah, well. The most esteemed in our society live at the foot of its domain. We don’t trifle ourselves with surface politics. It offends our sensibilities.’ Every utterance that came from Fall’s mouth was flourished by some frivolous hand gesture. He spoke with great vigour. ‘There is a particular value, Mr Ashborne, ascribed to residing as far from Winter, as far from the Confederacy, as one can get. Well, you can get no further than my quarters. Almost a mile below.’ Fall directed a wide smile at Agloff, his cheeks ripening.

‘It’s impressive,’ Agloff noted.

‘Well, I am afraid I cannot take all the credit. We only adopted it, but it has become… truly ours. As you shall see, we are entirely self-dependent. We grow our own livestock, our own vegetation in bespoke greenhouses, with thousands of rooms to accommodate families. There are ample facilities for leisure, business, health, administration and education.’ He paused, presumably for dramatic effect. ‘I think the pair of you will have a positive experience here.’ Fall’s words were so crisp they felt almost rehearsed, in fact they probably were.

Agloff rolled his eyes and faked a smile, wondering if Governor Fall was trying to be a walking sales brochure for the Underground, or if he simply couldn’t help it.

‘And you, Miss Finland?’

‘It’s great,’ she said curtly.

‘I agree,’ said Fall with that thick smile. It had to be hurting him to do that, Agloff thought. No one could smile so widely for that long.

Fall led them into a grand entrance hall. It was tiled in marble, encircled by a string of statues. Agloff noted balconies and walkways that ran around it, reaching up several floors. A long table with fancy chairs sat before them. The table was thickly laden with meats and fruits and pastries and breads upon golden platters. Instead of water, there was wine and ale. Agloff imagined food like this was beyond the means or need of any one man or woman. Its pungent notes tempted him, interacting and overlapping. He stood, quietly awed.

But for every moment of comfort he afforded himself, he was stabbed by a prick of guilt. Could he really afford to stay? He knew what he had to do. Get to Marty. He was in this maze of a city somewhere and he knew the truth. A truth that could take Agloff to where he needed to go. Marty knew where his mum had been going.

Then, the clocks buzzed zero, and the speakers signalled it was the end of one labour shift and the start of the next. Fall said most folks here were either farmers up in the agrifloors (which were massive greenhouses, channelled with ultraviolet light), mechanics in Maintenance (that and the waterworks were the only place in the Underground below the Governor’s chambers apparently), vendors flogging goods on the residential plazas or manning the lines on the factory floors. It was like some slick machine. They worked in exchange for something Agloff didn’t fully understand. It sounded like money, but not really. “Privileges”, Fall called them, which sounded to Agloff like a way of ascribing a value to his citizens.

There came a flurry of announcements over the speakers, the business of the day, as thousands of doors opened at once, up and down the Underground as the working men and women offered a goodbye peck to the cheeks of their sweethearts. They pretended their world was all that existed in the universe and the surface was another reality not worth contemplating.

‘Impressive, is it not?’ Fall concluded. ‘All of this from refugees and criminals.’

As loathe as Agloff was to agree with Fall, he could not deny the Underground was something to behold. ‘Ruthlessly efficient and entirely self-sufficient. We are an isolationist nation, dependent on no one and nothing.’

‘Not even Winter?’ Agloff said. ‘Seems strange how you manage to keep them out.’

A flash of anxiety sparked in Fall’s eyes. ‘Ways and means, Agloff. Ways and means. Down here.’ Fall gestured towards a sloping walkway that led down, away from the entrance hall and into a cosy corridor. There were bedrooms off to the left, and a bathroom for each of them to the right. They then looped round the back of the chamber and up a gangway to a platform overlooking the main hall. There was a kitchen if they needed it, stocked and maintained by the royal staff below and the banquet was at their disposal too. None of that mattered though, thought Agloff. Soon enough, he would find Marty.

A thin girl came gasping from the other end of the hall, one arm clenched across her gut and the other raised to courtesy her Governor. ‘Osara,’ Fall said with a false smile.

‘Your Governance,’ she said, though distracted by the sight of Agloff and Ariea. ‘I prepared the rooms, as you instructed, Sir.’

‘I’m sure you did. Could you see them there please?’ He turned to Agloff and Ariea, not waiting for a reply. ‘A meal is being prepared for us in the kitchens. I should like to take the time to know you a little better,’ he said, failing to look at Ariea. ‘In the meantime, Osara will escort you to your rooms.’

‘This way.’ Osara gestured and Agloff followed, with Ariea, arms tightly folded, in tow.