Chapter Fourteen - Mally​

“You can’t survive in the sewers. Those who work within them can only survive thanks to their extremely robust survival equipment.

The kinds of augmentations (augs) required to survive and work without restrictions within these environments are often disfiguring, require massive modifications to a person’s skeletal frame, musculature, and brain.

It will be impossible, or impractical, to convince normal people to work in these conditions. I suggest that the board find a way to improve our existing robotic infrastructure to care for the maintenance of these sewer systems. It would be more expensive, but the cost in lives would be worse otherwise.”

--Report to the Board of Infracorp, 2032

***

I twisted my head left and right to crack my neck. That energy drink had given me a kick in the rear, but I still felt as if I should be in bed. I wouldn’t be able to sleep, and I’d probably be restless as hell, but still.

Gomorrah was going to owe me for messing up my sleep schedule.

Or I could spend the next couple of days napping here and there. Had to live up to the “cat” part of my name.

“Alright,” I said as I switched channels. “Rac, tell us what we have to know.”

Gomorrah and I paused at the top of the last landing before the “ground” level of the sewer opening. There was a single working neon sign, large and piss-yellow, with a green blow-up palm tree next to it. It read “The Oasis!” in letters taller than I was.

Below that were the stalls and roads leading into the sewers. I could make out plenty of amateur artwork staining the cement walls. Long eastern-style dragons, often made to look like they were diving out of manholes.

I tried a quick headcount. Maybe fifty people in all. Most of them looked... pretty normal. Vagrant chic, with maybe a few more augs than I’d expect from homeless people. Lots of prosthetics going around, and a lot of people were wearing long, brown coats that hung low on their frames.

“Right, right!” Raccoon’s voice came in my ear. “Okay, see that place at the back, on the right? Looks like a sort of watch room, with the windows?”

I looked that way and made out a control room set above and next to the large entrance into the sewers. It had angled windows overlooking the Oasis. Mirrored windows, so I couldn’t make out anything within. “Yeah, I see it.”

“That’s where some of the people in charge of the Oasis stay. There’s like, a place with rooms and stuff in there. That’s what I was told, anyway.”

“So we’ll find the Sewer Dragons there?” I asked.

“Well, yeah and nah. The people here are Sewer people, but they might not be Sewer Dragons, you know? A lot of them are just hiding out in the sewers ‘cause they’re safe, in a way. But pretty much everyone works for the Sewer Dragons in one way or another.”

“Huh,” I said. “So we... don’t gun them all down?”

“Yeah, just some of them,” Rac said.

“I would rather you didn’t go in and kill everyone,” Franny snapped.

I frowned ahead. “Weren’t you going to go in with a bat? I can’t picture you dropping the bat for a bible to go all gospel on them.”

Gomorrah placed a hand up on my shoulder. “We’ll try to employ some discretion,” she said. “I’m sure Cat wouldn’t mind purchasing something less lethal for the occasion?”

“Yeah, fine,” I said. “Myalis? Sell me on something decent?”

I see three simple options, you might even consider using all three. Your Icarus can use foam grenades. They fire a rapidly expanding, breathing foam that turns into a cement-like substance a few moments after expanding. This cement breaks apart rapidly, though it takes hours to weaken and days to fully melt away on contact with oxygen. As for other options... Your Cyberwarfare augmentations can disable some prosthetics and augmentations, and your Trench Maker can easily accept electrified gel-rounds.

“Electrified gel rounds?” I repeated.

“That sounds so cool,” Rac said.

I’d forgotten to switch channels. Oops?

They’re small impact-dissolving gel capsules. They will not penetrate, but will disperse kinetic energy against any surface they hit. They’re also electrified, similar to a modern taser, though the shock isn’t long-lasting. They should be capable of disabling organics.

I nodded. “Let’s gear up then. Gomorrah, you, uh, going to tone down the fire or something?”

“Foam,” Gomorrah said.

I slid my Trench Maker out of my thigh holster, then slid the magazine out of it. Soon enough, I’d replaced it with some gel-rounds and I did the same with my Icarus. The extra grenades I gave to Gomorrah, who had some room in her pack, which she said was explosive enough already that some more wouldn’t matter.

Current Point Total:
10,851

“Alright,” I said as I adjusted my coat. “Let’s go in.”

“You should talk to Mally first,” Rac said. “She’s this lady, left side of the Oasis. She makes really good food, for cheap too.”

I shrugged. “Good enough for me,” I said.

“It’s a place to start,” Gomorrah replied. “Are you going in stealthy?” Gomorrah asked.

Usually I wouldn’t, but I was basically acting as the camera-cat here, and Gomorrah’s maybe-crush was watching. I wasn’t going to beaver dam my wingnun. “Yeah, I’ll be right behind you. Same set-up as in those mines? For friendly fire and all that.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gomorrah said.

Myalis and Atyacus worked things out while we went around and found a staircase leading to the floor below. I flicked on my invisibility between one step and the next. And when I glanced down at my hand, all I could see was the grimy floor below.

“That is so fucking rad,” Raccoon said.

“It’s got its uses,” I said. I kept close to Gomorrah as she reached the ground floor and looked around. There were people coming and going. Vans parked to the side and unloading boxes, people coming over, sometimes with boxes or crates, others in little groups carrying more weapons than was likely legal.

There was life here. Dirty life, but life.

Gomorrah went left, and I kept after her as she moved towards a line of tents. “Mally’s” was painted on one wall in fat graffiti letters, little hearts and flowers through the name.

Gomorrah moved around to the front of the tent, where the curtains were pulled back. The rear of the tent was an air-sealed room. Clear plastic let us see into a small kitchen area where a pair of people were working some pots and pans. From the over-full trash can at the back, they were cooking from two dozen different sorts of canned food and some microwavable meals.

There was someone at the front, next to a counter covered in torn linoleum. She was rubbing the surface with some cloth, mechanical arm moving in little circles.

Mally, or the person I guessed was Mally, had a half-mask on, her mouth entirely hidden by it and twin tubes coming out of the mask and diving into her flesh between neck and collarbone. Her arms were both long, thin things, servos at the elbows and wrists, and hands that were all actuators and chrome.

She was hunched over, long mechanical legs folded in on themselves so she could fit under the tent, but it was obvious they were designed to extend and make her much taller than she was now.

I guess she’d be over nine feet tall standing up with everything extended and her three-padded feet deployed. Her long coat, all black but decorated with colourful stickers of flowers and suns, hung over her frame, hiding her torso entirely.

“Hello,” Gomorrah said.

Mally looked up, organic eyes blinking to take in Gomorrah. “Oh, hello, deary,” she said. “I don’t recognize you, but you’re welcome, as all are.”

Her voice had a croak to it. Old age and rough air, I guessed.

“Thank you,” Gomorrah said. “I’m a little bit... lost, I suppose. I’m here looking for some people, maybe you could help me?”

“Certainly. Are you hungry? We’re not quite done with breakfast, but if you take a seat it’ll be ready in no time.”

“No, but thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, no need for that. I do charge. It’s just good business. Are you from one of the convents? You have the outfit for it, but it’s not often that we see your sort this far down.”

“Yes, but I’m here on my own business,” Gomorrah said. “I’m looking for some people, quite a few of them. They’ve gone missing recently.”

Mally’s cleaning stopped for a moment, then she resumed. “People go missing,” she said. “It’s a terrible thing, isn’t it? But it’s a big sewer, and there are plenty of nooks and crannies.”

“Right. Maybe you could help me find them? Or maybe the Sewer Dragons could help. I hear that they know this place fairly well.”

“I... that might not be good business, sweetie.”

Gomorrah sighed audibly. “Yes, I know. But it’s my business now. Please? Can you help me?”