To Be Determined

Ian walked the streets of Hive City with no destination in mind. He couldn’t go back to his apartment since the bounty hunter would take his father there first, and he could not head to Team Delta’s house as he was not a member of that gang yet. That would be determined in the days ahead.

Searching through his pockets he pulled out the last of his stashed credits. Five credits were all he had to his name, that and his las pistol and knife. The last was a gift from his mother upon his ascension to manhood. He thumbed the pommel absent mindedly as he stood outside the “Bifrost”. It was a Van Saar drinking hole set upon a bridge across a cavernous gorge nearly a hundred stories deep. A hive quake from before anyone currently alive could remember had ripped open the gorge causing a ‘natural’ division between areas of the hive and being on the fringe of hive city made it a low priority to reoccupy or repair. As a result the owners of the Bifrost made a handsome sum of credits to those wishing to pass beyond. There were other bridges to be sure, but none as wide as to allow the transportation of anything more than what one could carry on their back.

Just standing outside the door Ian hesitated to go in. He was new to the area, he had never really participated in such revelries before, and he was obviously green. As he juggled those thoughts he was knocked to the floor as a trio of gangers barreled their way past him.

“Watch where you’re going runt,” mumbled one of the men, not even turning his head to address the juve now sprawled out in the gutter.

Ian stood up and dusted himself off. ‘Well, if I am ever going to get used to living out here on my own I had better get used to going into such places,’ he thought to himself, and headed straight through the swinging doors.

The din was mind numbing. Countless conversations all vying to be heard over the others, some kind of music blaring from a band on stage in another room, over the bar were several monitors of hive sporting events – one had the picture of a fighting pit with several pit slaves engaged in a fight to their deaths, another several large rats navigating a maze, and the last had a game of slaughter ball. Ian had to step back into the shadows to avoid from being bowled over once again as patrons came at went at their leisure.

Ian blended in well enough. Not too tall, not so small as to get lost, and his envirosuit looked like any other. Most of the patrons had some form of weapon either strapped to their back or slung over their shoulder. Very few were as inadequately armed as he was. Looking around he decided to head to where the music was blaring from out of the back room.

As he crossed the smoke filled room he noticed several other sizable rooms. All of them filled with denizens of other houses, where this mix-match came together was in the hall in the back. There was no other place like it in hive city. At least not that Ian had heard of. The close proximity to hive city, and the bridge being a jump off point to places beyond, brought several of the houses together. Realizing that their mutual support of this resource was in each of their best interest, even if the Bifrost was Van Saar owned and operated. Each house had a piece of the pie and saw to it that none of the others tried to take more than their fair share.

Once in the back room the music was loud enough that Ian felt the vibrations in his teeth. On stage was a pair of Van Saar, one Escher, and an Orlock. The Orlock was playing a percussion instrument that had some form of fabric stretched across several steel drums of varying size. The Escher appeared to be the vocal ‘talent’ of the group as she was screaming into some form of microphone, but she was being hopelessly overpowered by the sound of the others. The pair of Van Saar appeared to be playing synths with keyboards. All four of them were pounding out a rhythm that had the whole room gyrating and pounding to the beat.

As Ian’s eyes adjusted to the flashing lights he caught site of an Escher making eye contact with him. Not knowing what to think Ian looked back over his shoulder into the common room, but with no one following behind him he looked back. The woman winked at him and went back to her conversation. Ian felt his face flush and ducked into the crowd.

Finding a small table with no one sitting at it Ian sat down where he could just enjoy the music for a time. Out of nowhere a waiter shows up from among the crowd. The man’s face was slightly disfigured and a Van Saar model bionic eye stared down at him with a cool blue light.

“What’ll it be?” The man asked.

Now knowing what to say Ian replied, “Um, water?”

The waiter burst out laughing so loud as to be heard over the music by several nearby. “Let’s see your credits!”

Fishing in his pocket he pulled out all that he had.

“You couldn’t buy a cup of water with ten times that amount! Here ya go – a nice glass of second best for the young lad!” With that the waiter placed a glass of some murky liquid heavily down on the table spilling most of its contents, and scrapped every last credit into his hand and disappeared before Ian could protest the loss.

Lifting up the cup to his nose Ian sniffed at the contents. The odor curled the hairs in his nose and caused him to twitch involuntarily.

“It’s better if you just down it,” came a voice from the crowd.

Ian looked up. It was the Escher from before. She wore black leather pants with a holstered auto pistol along her right leg. Across her shoulders was a plain looking sword, cutting across an orange shirt that left her mid drift exposed. Her red hair was pulled back to a pony tail. Her eyes locked once more on Ian’s.

“People actually drink this?” he asked.

“Only if you want to forget something, or gain some instant courage,” she replied. “You’re not from around here are you?”

Ian thought quickly, but had nothing better to reply. “No. You?”

She ignored the question. “So what brings you to the edge of the underhive, Mr. …?”

“Ian, just call me Ian. Let’s just say I am getting away from something. What about you, Ms … ?”

“Amber, my friends call me Amber. And so, what are you doing here? Are you with one of the local gangs?”

“That is as of yet, to be determined. I apparently have to prove myself before being fully embraced as a member. What about you?”

“I run with the ‘Black Cats’. I’m not a full fledged member yet. I have a few … initiations of my own to complete. What do you say we get out of here so we can talk a little easier?”

Ian hesitated, visions of being ambushed a left in some sewer drain flashed through his mind. “I think… I think I’m fine right here.”

“Suit yourself,” Amber said as she got up to leave. “But I have a small room right here in the Bifrost if you should change your mind.”

“And if I should follow you?” Ian stammered. “What will you do to me?”

“That, is as yet … to be determined,” she grinned back at him as she slowly walked through the crowd back towards the front room.

Ian gulped down the glass of second best and stood to follow the Escher. Fortunately for him the waiter had spilled most of it and his head swirled for only a moment. Leaving the glass behind Ian faded into the crowd in pursuit of his host.

Proving Grounds

This is the humble, and oft rambling, tale of Ian Hauk. He is of not so humble beginnings (by Hive City standards) and his life is of little importance to those who do not know him. It is merely a tale of just one man among the billions of Hive: Primus.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Once the door had shut behind him Ian took a minute to try and figure out what he needed to do next. Where he was going was not in question as the tunnel he was now in led down hill for some distance. How he was going to join up with any gang, let alone one from “Force Delta”, was still unknown.

With no other path available to him Ian followed the tunnel. The light level was very low making his progress slow. As he neared the end the tunnel the area was lit up with the flashes and sounds of a firefight just beyond his field of view. Ian’s heart was in his throat now. For a moment his fear gave him pause, but then his determination won over. As he checked that his pistol was powered up he inched closer to the end of the tunnel. A bald headed man dressed in a trench coat and another man dresses up in a Van Saar envirosuit were wrestling on the floor. Ian witnessed the Delaque land a viscous blow to the other man’s head causing him to stop struggling. The Delaque stood up, adjusted the dark goggles that covered his eyes, and leveled a stub pistol at the prone man’s head. “And so this struggle ends…”

“AAhhhhhh!” Without a thought Ian was launching himself from his concealed position full bore towards the Delaque assailant with his pistol leveled at his back.

The Delaque’s finger twitched on the trigger causing the pistol in his hand to bark as he wheeled around to face his new adversary. But he was a heart beat too soon. Ian’s squeezed the trigger on his las pistol once, twice, three times and more. One of them found its mark slamming into the head of the Delaque sending him sprawling. Once his opponent went down Ian wasn’t sure what to do. Walking up to him he noticed he was just another juve too. Ian kicked him once in the ribs to see if there was any reaction, but he just laid there. Satisfied that he would not be jumped from behind Ian bent over the Van Saar juve to see what condition he was in.

A savage gash across the left side of his head left his ear tattered and torn. Blood was pouring freely from the wound. ‘Typical of head wounds,’ Ian thought to himself – remembering the medical training from his father’s bionics lab.

“W-w-who are you?” the juve asked weakly

“Ian, Ian Hauk. Who are you?”

“Your n-not supposed to be here.”

“It’s alright. I’m a late addition to the trials.”

“N-no, I know all of the juves in this cycle. Y-your not…” and with that the Van Saar fell unconscious.

Going over to the downed Delaque Ian used his knife and cut several strips of cloth from the man’s trench coat. As he moved back to the Van Saar juve sounds of another fire fight not too far away broke the silence once more. Ian did the best he could to fashion a bandage to stop the bleeding, but he could not linger.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Ian had found himself in some form of hab structure. The rooms and hallways were a maze. Some walls had been blown through creating additional walkways between hab units. It was a mess compared to Van Saar hab standards, but that didn’t matter since it had become obvious that this hab building no longer housed anyone.

After several minutes he was unable to locate the other gun fight so he had tried to find his way back to the wounded Van Saar juve. But he had gotten turned around and was now lost. The rooms all looked alike and one demolition hole looked like all the others. Then he sensed it… someone was following him. Not wanting to tip his hand Ian turned into the next doorway and once he was confident of being out of sight he took off at a run. Counting doorways he ducked behind the fifth door on his right. Once around the door he slowly lowered himself to the floor and peered around the door jam to watch the way he had come.

His flight had not gone unnoticed as he had hoped as his pursuer was into the hallway before Ian could ready his pistol without being noticed. The man coming up the hallway stood ram rod straight and in his grip was a shotgun. Ian struggled to control his breathing as he fought to keep from passing out. The man cocked the weapon forcefully ejecting some spent cartridge to the floor.

As the casing chimed and bounced off the floor the man called out, “I know you’re in here tunnel rat. You’re not supposed to be here either.” And the hallway fell silent.

Ian was still struggling to maintain his breathing. He knew for sure that his gasping for breath, or the pounding of his heartbeat, was going to betray his position.

“I also know you helped that kid back there. This is a closed session. You best come out before I start blowing holes in the remaining walls. Sooner or later I’ll connect with something other than ferocrete.” The man yelled, pausing between each sentence to allow it to sink in.

Ian sat there quietly. How could he know if the man was being straight with him? Looking around the room there were no other exits. ‘Good job Ian. Way to back yourself into a corner.’

“How do I know you won’t just blow me away?” Ian called back.

“You don’t, but I can tell you that your bandaging of the kid back there has not gone unnoticed.”

Ian let that sink in for a moment. He stood up and stepped into the hallway. As he did so that man with the shotgun also stepped out. He was dressed in a blue, grey, and black pixeled bodysuit and a jet black goatee adorned his face. Van Saar. Ian breathed a sigh of relief. He let the las pistol turn over and dangle from his middle finger.

“Best come with me. Dyrke is going to want a word with you.” The man said taking the pistol from Ian.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

“You were not sanctioned to be here. How did you come to be here juve!”

Ian straightened his back and looked the man in his eyes. “I have earned a right to these trials…”

“You mean bribed your way in,” another man said from the back of the room.

“How I came to be here is not what matters, what matters is…”

“He’s not been cleared by the Union house!” said another.

“I can take whatever trials you can send my way. Besides, I can be of use to you.”

Chuckles erupted form around the room. The man now known to Ian as Dyrke raised his hand and silenced those around them.

“Maybe little rat. You may have saved Gaston’s ear at that. But you still have not proved your worth to the teams.”

Dyrke walked a circle around Ian and then said, “I can get the proper papers signed…” Ian’s heart began to beat faster, “but, you still need to earn a spit on the teams.” The team leader let that statement sink in. “First I want to see how handy you can be. Take him back to the kid and see if he really does have… skills.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Ian was escorted to where the other Van Saar juve had been taken. His wound had seeped through the bandages and he was now coming to.

“You again,” was all that the kid could muster.

Ian unwrapped the bandage and winced when he saw the damage. As he went to offer the kid some pain medicine the kid refused. “I don’t need any.” Was all he said.

“You might not think so in a minute.”

But the kid never said anything more. Ian cut away the dead tissue and repaired what he could. The bionics lab was so much more sterile and had an abundance of tools. All he had to work with here was a knife, some antiseptic, and a crude needle and thread. He was still quite pleased with himself when he was through. He was unable to save the ear, and the sutures created a good fifteen centimeter scar line, but it was the best he could do. The worst that the kid would have is a pretty pronounced scar, but at least he will still have his hearing.

“Not bad ‘rat’,” the voice of Dyrke sounded behind him.

Ian turned around to see the smiling face of the Van Saar lieutenant. But the man’s face turned somber. Your skills would indeed be useful, but you still have not earned the right to join the teams. We need to see you in action. Your trial begins tomorrow.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The Life and Times of Ian Hauk

This is the humble, and oft rambling, tale of Ian Hauk. He is of not so humble beginnings (by Hive City standards) and his life is of little importance to those who do not know him. It is merely a tale of just one man among the billions of Hive: Primus.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Despite the air filtration system keeping the lab supplied with plenty of germ free cool 10 degree Celsius air, Ian Vant considered it stuffy. His parents sought to protect him from the often violent nature that was the reality of Hive City by apprenticing him to the labs. Even better, guide and prepare him to take over the family business when it was time. The more Ian thought about what his future would unfold to be, the more oppressive the controlled atmosphere became. It was time to execute his plan to redirect his fate.

Even through the insulated walls he could hear the gongs signaling the shift change. He was going to miss those sounds. Not as abrasive or obnoxious as the whistles and bellows of the uncouth Orlocks or barbaric Goliaths – at least that what he’d been told. Checking his watch Ian knew it would be another seven hours before he would be missed by his parents – a luxury most juves in hive city did not share. As Ian hung up his lab coat in his locker he pulled out a small set of lenses from the pocket – the last components he needed to complete the las pistol he had been building with salvaged (stolen) parts from around the lab.

“Are you heading to the clubs Mr. Vant?” asked the security guard.

Ian glanced back over his shoulder before stopping to turn around. “No Garse, thought I’d hit the gambling dens tonight.” And with that he left his father’s workshops.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The streets along the Van Saar gambling district were packed. It seemed that every pleasure girl and hustler knew when the factory workers received their allotments, and they were looking to get as much of it as possible. Ignoring the cat calls and sales pitches Ian ducked into his favorite hall, “The Bifrost”.

But instead of hitting his usual tables he just kept walking right out the back door. Before he stepped out into the alley he peered into the gloom, nothing. “This is it,” he thought to himself. As the door slipped shut behind him he was not sure of which direction to go when he was startled by a voice.

“Just where do you think you are going little man?”

Ian whirled around pulling his knife free of his sheath.

“If I was after your purse, or your hide, little man you’d be a pile of recyc where you are standing.” Stepping from the shadows was a man a full two meters tall, dressed in a trench coat that came within centimeters of the alley floor. It fully encompassed his stature, and Ian knew that it also concealed several weapons. “You’re late.”

“I had to finish my shift Carston,” Ian said as he slid his knife back into its sheath. “Have all the arrangements been made?”

“Well, that depends. Do you have the final installment of my money?”

“Two hundred credits, right where I said I would leave it for you.”

The man just nodded. “Right this way then Mr. Vant.”

Despite Ian going over and over the plans in his head he was still having a hard time keeping track of their progress. Alleys, tunnels, and walkways twisted and turned in never ending circles until they finally reached their destination. “Your new safe house Mr. Vant, “the bounty hunter said lifting his arm inviting Ian in. “You should be quite comfortable until you get on your own two feet.”

Looking around the two room hab it had all the luxuries that he had made great pains to outline for the man. A small kitchen and an air handler that would be the envy of the block. “Perfect. Thanks. Remember, when my father hires you to come looking for me, you’ve never heard of this place. Right?”

“Never heard of what place?” He said as he closed the door leaving Ian to his thoughts. “The money had best be where you left it little man," the bounty hunter said threough the door, "else my memory is going to go a whole lot clearer.”

“No worries about that,” Ian thought to himself. “It’s there,” he called back through the door. Why cheat the man. Besides, he needed all the head start he could get. He knew that once his father had hired the mercenary his measly five hundred credits would not be nearly enough to buy his freedom. But that would not be for at least three more shift cycles – when he would fail to report for his assigned work schedule. Only then would his father really take notice of his absence.

Completely happy with how his plans were unfolding Ian moved around the hab pulling out several small packages then proceeded to dump them on a small table. As he inventoried the pile his grin faded. The power cell was missing.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Hesitating before the Union house Ian took a deep breath. The missing power cell was a minor set back, but not enough to derail his plan. His father would not check the Union houses for at least a week. After all why would a man of privilege stoop to serve in the gangs? Even so the handful of credits paid to the pleasure house to teach him the skills to change his appearance were well spent. Altering his complexion and hair color just enough that the descriptions would not match.

As he entered into the Union house he spied his contact off to the side of throngs of gangs and potential recruits and headed straight for him. “Is everything set?”

The Union security guard looked over Ian’s shoulder as he answered. “We’re all set ‘Hauk’. The best I can do is get you into a ‘Juve trial run’ this afternoon. Do you have the rest of my money?”

Ian sifted through the leg pockets of his body suit and fished out a small money bag. “This is the last of it, fifty credits.”

“We talked about a hundred Hauk,” the guards voice began to rise.

“Look, it’s going to have to be enough. It’s all I’ve got left. And I’m gonna need your spare power cell for you las as well.”

The guard fidgeted as if he was going to back out of the deal. That would not be good because it really was the last of his money, he still needed the power cell, and he would not be able to return to his apartment. He was past the point of no return now.

Finally after a long uncomfortable pause the guard looked him in the eyes. “Alright, but if I see your face again I’m gonna run you in myself. Meet me at the back stairs in ten minutes.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Arriving at the stairwell the guard was there waiting for him. “The only reason I decided to proceed with this is that the only gang giving tryouts today are from “Force Delta” – and if you can make it with them, I might be able to call in a favor later.”

Now it was Ian’s turn to fidget. “Alright, do you have that power cell?”

"Force Delta" was known for their grueling juve tryouts that lasted for days. And it was not just the tryouts. Although they were never fully acknowledged by the house elders, it was commonly believed that they took on the more difficult missions below ‘The Wall’.

“Here you go. It has a full charge so it should last. Right this way my friend.” And with that the guard led Ian down the back stairwell to a door that had no lights near it. “Once this door closes you are committed. The tryouts have already begun, and once the door shuts I will not be around to let you back through. The guard hesitated a moment to see if Ian would back out and when he didn’t he pushed the door open. “Good luck to ya.”

Ian looked at the man in the eyes and stepped through the door, which immediately shut behind him. “No going back now,” he thought to himself.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-