Beneath the Floating City collection Read online

  Johann took a long draw on his beer, closing his eyes. ‘Different ways I suppose.’

  Nic frowned into his glass. He wasn’t stupid. He knew hedging when he saw it. ‘So are you warning me, giving me safety tips? I want to live, for a very long time actually.’

  ‘Neither. I’ve been working here three years now. I haven’t had any problems myself. But you hear stuff, you know.’

  ‘Yes I do.’

  They finished their drink making idle talk with the others who joined them. Mostly they watched the dancers, the tourist drunk on vacation, narcs and sex. He watched them, like the engineers had watched him. Quite a sobering thought. Before midnight the engineers began to drift out the door. Johann led him to the street. ‘I’ll show you to your new home. Your room is right next to mine.’

  Nic let out a huge belch. ‘I’d appreciate that. Hope the food is as good as the pay.’

  ‘It’s not but it’s edible. Better than the shit you’ve been eating.’

  Nic harrumphed, hitching up his collar. ‘Some of it was damn fine. You’re just jealous because you’re restricted in who you fraternise with.’

  ‘Could be. We only get approved hookers once a month. At least they’re clean and free.’

  Nic thought about that. Approved meant security and drug screened. Not many hookers he knew would subject themselves to those processes unless it was worth it. He wondering how rich Hedonia City really was. The docking fees for the shuttles would add up. There was at least ten of them a week, not including the support craft with supplies. Legit sex and drugs were taxed and he guessed all the imported food was too. Then there were the lease fees. No one could own any part of the city, it belonged to the city council corporation.

  After a good breakfast next morning, Nic dressed in his new uniform, feeling a sense of pride that had been absent from his life for quite a while. With a smile on his face, he reported for his first day at work. For the most part, he observed, listening to ‘fuckface’ all day until he yawned.

  The routine continued day after day. His nights were plagued with flashbacks of his time with the transmuter, memories and dreams merged together. The alien couldn’t get enough of him. Give me more, it would demand. You must get me more. He’d start over, feeling exhausted on waking.

  After two weeks on the job, Nic was convinced it was all a sham. No one really had the specs down. They cleaned ventilations shafts, undid panels, inspected the alien contents and sealed them up again. Either they didn’t trust him or something weird was going on.

  At the Zephyr, Nic raised the question with Johann. The engineer shook his head. ‘I’ve been here three years. I’ve seen no specs, no engine designs, no documented schematics of the alien technology. There’s been one or two overhauls of the turbines in my time and the occasional aoleus gas measurement.’

  ‘You don’t find that curious? Odd even?’

  ‘I get paid. I keep my mouth shut. The less I know the better. Why are you so interested?’

  Nic shrugged. ‘Just am. Logical isn’t it?’

  Johann cast him a strange look. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What about the sinking sections of the city. Have you worked on those ever in the last three years?’

  Johann swallowed another mouthful and shook his head. ‘Most crews get a rotation to different parts of the undercity. I can’t say I’ve known of any who have worked there. There are eleven crews. I don’t do the rosters.’ He shrugged and took another long drink.

  Nic took another drink himself, letting their conversation settle in his mind. His gaze lingered on the dance floor, remembering how it felt to be in a narc haze with women panting to get into his trousers, throwing money at him to pleasure them. Had male to female relationships always been one of commerce? At least he had left the women satisfied, if somewhat poorer. He wondered now if that job had more meaning than the current one.

  Then there were the disappearance and the deaths. Another engineer had mysteriously disappeared in the past week. Rumour had it that he was dead. Nic had not met him and had no real idea how he had died or if he had. Everyone was tight-lipped, saying it was for the official investigation to reveal. There had been rumours that there was no body, so how did they know he died? Now when he thought about the absence of a real knowledge base about the alien technology that kept Hedonia floating, he wondered if there was a connection. Had these engineers found out too much? Had they disobeyed the rules, broke silence? What silence? There was nothing to tell. Nic shrugged, not really caring if people saw that he was thinking and not paying attention to his surroundings.

  That night he found it hard to sleep. Tossing and turning didn’t help, didn’t relieve the tension. His mind had a problem to solve and in his dream state, he thought he had worked out how the turbines worked. Even his transmuter lover was sated. When he woke the next morning it was there, but just out of reach.

  The next day he was with a work crew assigned to one of the gantries that he had seen on his first day. The wind was up but the gantry provided shelter as well as a way into one of the access chutes on a secondary gas intake valve. Nic was meant to watch and learn, still not trusted to use his brain or skill or hands for that matter. His hair ruffled in the wind, making him wish he’d cut it when he had the chance the day before. He tried to stay focussed but his gaze kept straying to one of the arched doorways further along the walkway. An unsecured door open and shut as he looked on. He had the urge to investigate, stronger and stronger. A sharp headache made him gasp. While the others were engaged in securing their lines and readying their cleaning equipment, Nic stole up the walkway toward it, the pain in his head waning with each step he took. He put his hand on the door, feeling the greasy layer of fungi and pushed the door wide open. It was dark on the inside.

  ‘Hello? Anyone there?’ he called out.

  No one replied or objected to his being there. Casting a glance back at the work crew, he saw that they hadn’t noticed his absence. He took a step and placed himself inside the threshold, shutting the door behind him. A dull green light grew steadily brighter as he leaned his back against the door. Nic’s heart thumped. He heard the door click and quickly turned to open it. The lock had engaged sealing the door tight. He didn’t panic as the crew would come looking for him.

  The room grew steadily brighter and he edged around to look at his surroundings. A long corridor stretched out in front of him. In the distance shadows moved and leapt as light beamed in through tall, thin windows. A low hum vibrated along the floor planking and he thought he heard the sounds of voices and heavy objects being dragged along metal floors. He took a few steps along the corridor, the light brightening with each step.

  He tried to work out which section he was in. The sealed one? Something about a university research project or was it the unsafe areas sealed by the city? The construction in this section looked sound to him. All that was absent was the alien scrollwork and wall carvings. This walls were made of metal, gold tinged metal. Looking up he saw the distant ceiling appeared draped in growths, more like cobwebs than anything else could name.

  The voices grew more distinct and Nic slowed his pace, hoping to mask the sound of his footsteps. Then so suddenly, he almost missed it, a wide archway appeared to his left. He was standing in the middle of it before he was aware of it. The light was dimmer there, lit by small telltale winking lights on banks of machinery. Nic sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. There was nothing for it. He’d come this far so he stepped into the room. He forgot to breathe at first. There was no one in the room, just machinery, computers banks by the looks of them, hummomg away. With a raised eyebrow, he turned full circle, seeing power cables snaking along the floor and out through a specially cut hole in the wall. Looked modern to him. Not the ancient alien tech. He turned back to the hallway and continued on.

  As he walked the voices alternated from becoming clear and distinct, to muffled. He thought there could be three people ahead. The next opening did
not take him by surprise. Light speared out through the open doorway and a manshape moved into the farther dimness ahead of him before passing out of view.

  Hard against the wall, Nic stood still and then quickly stuck his head around to take in the scene. He pulled back quickly, heart pounding. There were at least five people in there, all checking the monitors of strange looking containers, which looked like ancient sarcophagi, with ornate designs carved into them.

  He tried for one more look, raking his gaze quickly and carefully over the room. Then deciding he’d seen enough he tensed to bolt along the corridor only to be brought up short by a man holding a weapon and blocking his exit. The nozzle of the gun pointed at Nic’s chest. Judging by the uniform and the professional looking stance, the guy was military. The guy jerked the business end of his gun twice in the direction of the room. Shocked gasps echoed around them as they entered. Turning his gaze to the bank of sarcophagi, Nic blanched and took a step back, nearly stumbling.

  ‘Found him spying on you from the corridor,’ said the guy with the gun.

  A woman stepped forward, checking him over, looking him up and down. ‘A wayward engineer? A new one I expect. The other ones know better than to stick their nose in where they are not wanted.’

  ‘Look I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’ll just go.’

  ‘Not so fast.’ The nozzle of the gun pointed directly at him. She read his nametag, then took out her personal assistant and scrolled the screen, eyes tracking the text. ‘Yes, good stats here. He’d make a suitable engineer.’ Her dark eyes appraised him. She turned away and went to the far sarcophagus. Leaning over it, she checked some readouts, which looked like modern additions to the alien tech. ‘The old one is passing, may not last the day.’

  She walked back toward him, finger tapping on her chin, brows cinched in thought.

  ‘The new recruit didn’t cope...we are running out of time.’

  The nozzle of the gun rose higher. ‘You wanna use him?’

  ‘He’s got good stats. He wants to be an engineer. We’ll have to risk it and make him a real one.’ She turned to Nic. ‘Strip.’

  ‘Can you tell me what is going on? What are those things?’

  ‘Shut up and get your gear off.’ Her eyes were hard. She meant business.

  A quick scan of the military bloke’s expression convinced him his choices were non-existent. Nic undid his uniform, sliding it off his shoulders and dropping it to the floor. The woman’s eyebrow lifted as her gaze went over his body. ‘A bit of a waste, maybe.’

  A man who had been monitoring the other sarcophagi came forward, jerked Nic’s hands behind his back and tied them. Around Nic’s neck, the man attached a tether. Nic inhaled sharply as the crackle of power constricted his breathing, bent him over double in pain. Now it was time to get scared.

  They walked him closer to the sarcophagi. A couple had old shrivelled beings in them. Lynex he guessed. So much for there not been much known about them. They had had live specimens right in the city all the time. He supposed the city council didn’t want to lessen the mystery of the floating city. It might damage their revenues. The other three held humans, all males. Missing engineers perhaps.

  ‘Get him to the prep table,’ ordered the woman.

  A shove from behind made Nic stumble. ‘No wait. I won’t tell anyone. You don’t need to do this. I’m new here.’

  ‘Shut up. Not interested.’

  ‘Look I only wanted to know how the tech worked. Wanted to understand.’

  He was pushed down on a long table, his neck tether immobilising him when the woman engaged the control. ‘Well Mr Da Silva, you are going to find out all you wanted to know and more. If the incorporation goes well, you’ll enjoy a nice long life.’

  They inserted canulas into the veins of his arms and legs, shoved choking feeding tubes down his throat, poked a catheter into his penis and brought over a surgical tray and prepped him for surgery. Nic couldn’t even scream as they cut into his skin. The med tech did the cutting.

  ‘Sorry for the discomfort but you won’t need to shit no more. This nice little stoma will connect you nicely to the equipment. Once you’re inserted, we’ll take the rest of your intestines out. They tend to rot after a few years. Took us a while to work that out.’

  Nic lost consciousness then. From fear, pain or drugs he did not know. When he came to he was deep in the unit. He felt a strange presence next to him, inside him. It cocooned him, stroked him, joined with him as relaxants pulsed through his blood stream. Once the connection was complete, white pain, searing consciousness-killing agony, enveloped him.

  Too stunned to think of screaming, he blinked through the worst of it and then there was knowledge. When he saw it, saw the extent of it, he laughed in his mind. It was all there, all the answers to the puzzling mystery of the floating city. The schematics, the maps of circuits, the fault logs, the long history of Hedonia stretching out inside of him. Now he knew what kept the city floating, he knew all the secrets, he could even tap into those new machines, the puny things the interlopers had tried to interface with the Lynex technology. His senses reached out, he breathed with the city, breathed with the minds connected to its apparatus.

  Abruptly, his body jerked and twitched. Something was wrong. He could sense/hear alarms. Then a new, but familiar presence appeared. It! The transmuter. Big and live and victorious. Not it, an image, an avatar. Damn that was why his head ached. It had left a probe there in his head, filtering information, urging him on. Its program began to suck, to process all the new found knowledge, encode it and then transmit it. Nic detected it flowing, the facts, the equations, the schematics leaking away, unable to fight the brain drain.

  Somewhere within the vast information network of the city, a defensive program initiated. The transmuter’s program shrieked as her avatar erupted into blue hot flame, winking out silently as the probe was destroyed. Nic felt satisfaction. He hope it hurt it, but knew it was only a program not the transmuter inside his head.

  Nic wondered if they had killed it in time. He thought so. The knowledge contained within the mind of the city was extensive. It would take him many lifetimes to understand it all, to learn it all. He was ready. Now he knew what it meant to be an engineer in the floating city.

  Author Note

  This story was inspired by a trip to Venice. A beautiful place in elegant decline and I thought what if this was a floating city in orbit around a planet. I liked the mystery of lost races too, those that leave hints of their passing but you can never really know what they were like, what they thought about and how the lived.

  Green, Green Grass of Homeworld

  The hiss of steam teased Vo-nam D’abela’s sensitive ears as hypodermic needles retracted from veins in arms, legs and tail. Antiseptic stung the pinprick wounds as he flexed his limbs. As stasis induced fugue sloughed off, his heart rate quickened and breaths deepened. He had arrived.

  A harsh stench washed over him as he opened his eyes. The refuse of year’s assisted life-support flushed away, leaving its fetid aftermath lingering on his tongue. When his eyesight cleared, he saw that his wife’s stasis unit was vacant and sanitised, ready for the next occupant. He frowned at Li-pen’s absence.

  Perhaps Li-pen had been revived before him and had left on some errand for surely she had not gone to see Earth without him. She had not wanted to come with him on this trip, despite her being part human like him. The money, the time were only some of the excuses she used to delay them taking this trip. The fact that they had no offspring, and hence no ties to Dianur, had been the deciding factor. But Vo-nam had waited his whole life to come to the homeworld and to see Earth in its majesty, its blueness radiant in the black firmament of space. For so long he had pictured it in his mind’s eye, dreamt it after staring at images of the planet for hours and hours. Anxiety about Li-pen’s absence lessened when he thought she was probably in the transition lounge, wondering why it was taking him so long to wake up.r />
  The monitor chimed, telling him that his body was now in normal state. With a certain amount of regret, he saw while dressing that his soft, downy coat had faded to a dun colour. He wondered what the Earth’s atmosphere would do to it. Would his pelt glow golden under Sol’s rays, like great grandfather Luis D’abela had said it would? Would it ever regain the sheen years of careful grooming and doenut oil had enlivened? A glowing pelt was a matter of pride for a Di-Nuk, a Nuk of mixed species like him. There was something about those human genes that brought out the best in the Nuk physique. He was taller, more muscular and out-performed pure Nuk academically. Pity that his kin did not value the benefits of his mixed heritage or recognise the injection of superior human DNA into their gene pool. Vo-nam growled as he tried to bury the memories, the shame. No recognition from his extended family, no jobs, no housing and no social services.

  Not that there was any official discrimination of Di-Nuk. No, thought Vo-nam, the unofficial was severe enough. It was so bad that Vo-nam had been raised under the Post-Colonial Dependents scheme, a small fund to look after what the Earth settlers and their technological intervention had left behind. Li-pen had never qualified for the scheme, except as his dependent. With the final proceeds of his trust fund, they could finally connect with their human heritage. Soon he would touch the soil of the homeworld, a place where he really belonged.

  The door shushed open as he exited the life-support suite. Li-pen was not in the lounge as he had thought. Although he would never tell her so, he was annoyed that she had not waited for him. He could not help the feelings that swelled inside of him. The first view of the homeworld was a moment for sharing. He found it hard to go against that cultural imperative—not to speak his mind—ever. Pity Li-pen was not impeded by it. To his dismay, she never failed to speak her mind to him.