Dade sighed and forced himself to focus on what he was supposed to be doing. His confrontation with Arden had eaten more time than he’d realized. He had to be at the meet point within the hour, and he still had another errand to complete.
The stink of rotting garbage and the stench of unwashed bodies mixed unpleasantly with the sulfur-smelling mist cast off from the static cloud as he slipped down the street, weaving through the crowd. He traveled into the Levels more often than his family knew. Each section of the city was built on top of another, expanding upward. At the base of the planet was Undercity, where he suspected Arden was from. He’d always been curious to explore Undercity but had yet to figure out a way in. Obviously, if she’d managed to make it into the Levels, there were ways around the sealed barriers just as he’d suspected.
On top of Undercity, there was a sealed dome on which the Levels, part of the region called Above, had been built. Most of Above’s population lived in the Levels, crammed into tiny rooms. Though the farther up the Levels one traveled, the higher the numbers, and the nicer the area became. Poverty and crime were abundant at the lowest Levels.
He lived above the static cloud. He wasn’t particularly proud of that. It was a quirk of birth. While he was grateful for it, it made him ashamed, which was why he was constantly here in the Levels trying to make things better.
He crossed the street, walking on the thick glass that had at one time offered a view into Undercity. Pedestrians walked across it now and never once looked down. Not that much could be seen, the glass, now milky white with age, blocking the view into the city below.
He caught the public quadralift to reach the transport grid on Level Four. He waited in line only minutes before the platform hoverdisk docked at the station, then was herded along with a group into the round tube. The light door engaged, the edges of the round pad glowed with a blue light as it rose into the air. The walls’ metallic sheeting was scratched with graffiti. Most of the symbols had no meaning to Dade. Except one. His gaze fell on a small outlined sun.
He smiled with satisfaction.
When the light doors opened, he crossed to the nearest station and caught the skytram to U Street. Then he used the stairs to descend to Level Three. Hovercars nearly parked on top of one another in the congested traffic. Speeders wove between them. Some would drive up the side of the open skyway, using the space between traffic and the skywalk as a passing lane. A speeder zoomed by too close, nearly taking Dade out with the backdraft.
Before he reached the dispensary, Dade ducked into an alley. There he slipped a red mask over the upper portion of his face and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. The mask was made from a synthetic material with nanotech that molded to the face, fitting like a second skin, and wouldn’t come off unless he removed it, as the nanotech was coded to his prints.
He withdrew several packages from the carry pouch around his waist. Dade didn’t usually make deliveries during the day. It was far too risky. He just hoped that no one would look too hard at him and that the visit wouldn’t take long. In seconds he’d be back on the street.
A sign posted in the window of the dispensary announced they’d run out of VitD meds. That hadn’t stopped a line from forming outside the door. Ravaged bodies shivered beneath swaddled blankets, decaying from Violet Death. They looked like lumpy piles of garbage rather than people. VitD provided the vitamins essential for humans that normally came from the sun. Regular injections were vital to their health. They would die without it.
No one looked up as Dade passed. He knocked on the dispensary door, impatient to complete his task. A face appeared briefly behind the blinds before the door clicked open. Dade didn’t utter a greeting. His face might be covered, but the neighborhood comms could still record his voice. He handed over the packages to the harried-looking man wearing scrubs.
“Bless you, sir,” the man said.
Dade nodded before he melted back into the street, where he was swallowed by the crowd. He slipped off his mask and pocketed it before he moved around the corner.
Time ticked like a metronome. Dade was always aware of how quick he needed to be and where his presence was required at any moment. Right now, Saben would already be waiting for him. And while he wouldn’t immediately send out a search party, he would worry. Dade wasted no time making his way back to Level One. His destination was marked by a pink neon sign reading “Breck’s Gym.” It flickered over the doorway of the boxing club. Dade bought tickets from a skinny hawker working the front.
“Thirty credits,” the boy said. Dirt streaked his face, and he had the hollow appearance of too little food, no sun booth allotment, and almost no VitD injections.
Dade offered his forearm, keeping the sleeve of his cloak pulled down to cover his blackout band.
The boy used a thin black wand-scanner over the area. A blue light tracked the sleeve as it swept the chip in the band instead of the one imbedded in Dade’s arm, collecting the account information Dade kept under an assumed name. The scanner beeped as it accepted the credits.
“Them’s fighting it out for the titleship next week,” the boy said.
Dade grunted in acknowledgment as the boy pushed a clear orangey-red card Dade’s way.
“Go on.” The boy waved to the entrance behind him, a narrow walkway that had once been an alley and now served as a covered entrance to the club. Above the walkway, rooms had been built in the narrow space.
Inside the gym, the ticket man sat on a high bar stool. He was burly, dressed in a muscle tee and tight grappling shorts. His attention was focused on a loud match in the ring rather than on the customers coming through the door. Dade handed over his card when he reached the head of the line.
Dade wove his way through the crowd as they pushed to the center of the room while yelling their bets. The stench was a concentrated mixture of heat, sweat, and dirt. Breck’s wasn’t one of the finer boxing clubs. It was more like a bunch of street thugs beating one another bloody for sport. If the boxers were any good, they could make a name for themselves and move up to a club where the money really flowed.
It wasn’t difficult to locate Saben. The man was a mountain and stood out anywhere. His arms were crossed over the brown skin of his shirtless chest. Leather strips rounded his shoulders and crossed his torso in an X. The leather held an assortment of knives and other small weapons, as well as two phasers strapped to his waist. Over this he wore a long black cloak, in deference to the cold.
Seemingly relaxed and interested, he watched the match. Only Dade would notice the slight frown that touched the middle of his forehead.
“You’re late,” Saben said as Dade stopped next to him. He didn’t turn his head, or otherwise acknowledge Dade, keeping his focus on the fight. “Anything I should know about?”
Dade shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about Arden. Not yet. Instead, he asked about Saben’s errand. “Did you get it?”