“I never joke ‘little rat’.” Ian looked up over the piece of paper in his hands at Katan, his ‘handler’ for this test. The man was stoic. “This is your test. You do not have to perform the task. Simply say so and we will part ways.”
By that the Van Saar meant that if Ian should choose not to go on this little ‘errand’ he would no longer be considered for membership into the gang. Looking back down he reread the letter to make sure he was reading it right.
‘Your 3rd test is to retrieve the power cell for your las pistol, the one that you left behind in your hurry to flee your family’s business.’ Ian shook his head… how could Dyrke know about that?
As if to answer the unspoken question Katan said, “You don’t think Dyrke recruits just any street rat without checking him out do you.” Ian’s head drooped. “He ensures those within the team don’t become… a distraction later on.” Ian raised his head to protest but was cut off. “You’ve got spirit ‘little rat’, but you haven’t passed the tests yet.”
Ian’s thoughts were flying now. How was he going to get all the way back to his father’s house, or lab, undetected, let alone get back in?
“Come on. We have some ground to cover.” With that Katan led Ian back to hive city.
-=-=-=O=-=-=-
Ian emerged from the lift to a circus – literally. People filled the streets. There were several dressed in bright colors dancing and performing acrobatic tricks, several ash waste animals on display, and the street vendors were out in droves. Ian reached out and grabbed a passing bystander’s sleeve.
“What’s going on?”
“You just up from the sump?” The man asked, obviously eyeing Ian’s torn and dirty jumpsuit.
“Never mind that, what’s going on here?”
“Well, since you’re obviously not from around here… Guilder Gribly has announced a holiday. He wants to show off his wealth apparently. Hey, it’s his money. All I know is that I got half a shift off to come see this freak show that he’s brought up from the sump.”
Ian let the guy go and just peered over the crowd. “What a spectacle,” he thought to himself. “But, this could work in my favor…”
-=-=-=O=-=-=-
His destination was not hard to find. He could have found it if all the lights in the dome had failed. For the last five years he had walked to and from the place where he had been born on his way to work. Before that it was the local apprentice shops. It was a nice place by hive standards – luxurious even compared to the worker habs. It was nestled into the middle of a street off the main path, three stories high and a private exterior area sectioned off for their private use behind it. Even hear the festivities filled the street.
In front of his childhood home stood a pair of bodyguards fully decked out in mesh armor, plasma pistols and obvious bionic implants. Just the air of confidence kept the crowd on the street at a respectful distance. Not that he expected to just walk right in the front door, but it was good to know what the status was around the old place. Of course that meant it would be slightly more difficult getting to his prize.
-=-=-=O=-=-=-
The row of houses had been built over top of an old factory dome. In a few places derelict air vents continued to allow air to move between the two areas. Underneath Ian’s home was one such vent. In his father’s quest for security Ian had been sent down there to close it off and thus prevent exactly what he was doing now. Sneaking into the house undetected. When his father sent him down here all those years ago he saw an opportunity. Instead of sealing the vent off he fashioned a door instead.
The vent had gotten pretty nasty since he last used it. Soot and dust layered the surfaces all around him and it rubbed off coating his jumpsuit. When it mixed with the sweat freely rolling off his face and hands (his bodysuit recycling the rest for later use) made for a tacky mess. Fortunately his old hand and foot holds were still in place. The grill in the back wall of the upstairs hallway was still there as well. Before he pushed the screen aside he stopped to listen. Silence was all that met his ears. That was as it should be as both his parents worked, and the two servants were not scheduled to work until the 2nd shift. Glancing at the chronometer on his wrist he had a little over an hour.
Easing the grill onto the floor Ian squirmed his way onto the hallway floor. Once in side he easily made his way to his room. The door was wide open, but a quick visual inventory of the room told him that everything was still as it should be.
Racing around the room he grabbed a small duffle bag and filled it with a couple sets of clothes and some of his old tools (both medical and mechanical). He also grabbed what he had returned home for… the power cell he had set aside for his piece meal laspistol. As he turned to leave he caught his reflection in a mirror on the back of his door. What a mess. His jumpsuit was tattered and filthy; the bandage along his ribcage was saturated with blood; and his hair stuck to his head at odd angles. He almost mistook his reflection for another person. Rubbing his finger across his cheek moved the filth around but did little to clean it off. Sighing to himself he pulled open the door back and stepped into the hallway. Instead of an empty passageway his mother now blocked the only escape route.
“Well, look what the rats dragged in.”
Ian was speechless. What could he say?
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say something?”
“I… I need to get going mother,” he finally managed to stammer.
“Not like that you’re not. First you are going to get cleaned up, and I am going to take a look at that… that bandage.”
“Mother you have to know by now. I’ve deserted my post at the lab. I want to see the hive for myself, not through what the house vid-reporters think we should see. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I was young once too. You don’t think I worked for your father all my life do you?”
Ian was confused. All his life his mother was the epitome of elegance. She always seemed to know the right thing to say, the right thing to do. She had been the face of his father’s business and hostess to countless business functions. More then once he had heard whispers of his mother being a distant descendant of the house founders. Now she seemed to insinuate that she had once lived a different life, one not so… sheltered?
“You see I once ran with the gangs,” his mother said, pulling her sleeve up to reveal a tattoo. A tattoo in the shape of an animal’s paw, claws extended, “’The Cats’ if memory serves, but that was a long, long time ago.”
Amber flashed to Ian’s mind but was gone just as quick. “I really must be going. They’re waiting for me.”
“Which gang did you join?” his mother asked stepping to prevent Ian from going around her. “You needn’t worry about me telling your father, just promise me you’ll return once you have spent this urge.”
“Team Delta.”
“The teams? Good, good. She seemed to be lost in thought for a while. I will delay your father and his minions how ever I can, but you are on your own.”
“Thank you mother.”
“Just let me look to that wound first, and then I you will be on your way.”
-=-=-=O=-=-=-
“Man does this feel good.”
Ian just let the water run across his face and then down his back. After his mother had pulled the bandage and scolded him for not taking better care of himself she insisted that he shower before leaving once again. The Van Saar are known to be as clean as they are technical. He could almost feel the fatigue wash away with the filth of the trials of the past few days. As he tried to prolong the experience the door to the outside room flew open interrupting his meditation.
“Time to go Ian,” his mother said as she tossed his now repaired jumpsuit over the curtain. “Your father and his gang are on their way here to eat.”
Several choice words flew through Ian’s mind, none of them he wanted to repeat aloud in front of his mom.
-=-=-=O=-=-=-
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