"Minijet 34 taking off for Sterling, Artignon in five minutes." announces the computerized flight tracker.
Running through the thick throng of people crowding the concrete take-off dock and locating Minijet 34 gets me efficiently settled in the plastic seats of the high-speed jet, the two 'bodyguards' seated behind me.
Yes, I said plastic. It's not like we get first-class cushioned seats. Cushioned . . . god forbid I ever sit in one of those. Ever.
"TAKING OFF." Inside the jet the computer's voice is much louder, and almost blasts my eardrums off.
"Automatic flight captain, please turn vocalizing volume down by fifty decibels." I shout over the whirring of the rotor blades above.
"REQUEST TO LOWER VOCALizing volume by fifty decibels interpreted correctly?" the computer asks while it's volume drains away.
"Yes, thank you."
As we start to slowly rise, I reserve myself to staring out of the miniscule window at the massive crowd below. Most of them are shouting and pointing to a figure running full speed towards the jet. Oops, Kivren.
He looks up at the steadily rising aircraft, assessing it's place, then stops and springs up to an inhuman height and latches onto the door. A simple exhibition of assassin strength and agility.
Getting up from my seat I open it inwards and let Kivren in, the many faces of surprise gawk up at us from the receding dock, and I smile at them and wave. How dramatic.
The Minijet flies up faster and faster and soon we're surrounded by a dispersing cloud cover.
"So what do you think of this assignment?" I ask Kivren. I don't really care how he answers, I just want to say something. After all, jet computer voices don't make very good companions . . . neither do 'bodyguards'. Most likely the two muscle bound guys sitting behind would misinterpret my talking to them not as a sign of plain boredom, but as something that needed to be reported to the Enforcers.
"God, it's the stupidest thing ever!" he exclaims, brushing away some of the dark hair that fell into his crystalline eyes. I'd never thought of Kivren as attractive, but I'm sure the other female citizens of Kandu do. "We all know what Artignon is like, don't we?" he continues, "Typical utopia, butterflies and girls with flowers in their golden hair . . . sun shining and trees everywhere. Ain't that the place where we all want to live?"
His response rattles me a bit, but I respond cooly. "I've heard that they've changed. You know, not everything stays perfect forever. And despite the fact that they've stayed that way for a long time, it probably won't be like that anymore."
Kivren speaks with the confidence and roughness of a street lord, but sometimes his voice loses the quality altogether, only to come back the next day.
"Maybe," he says. Then he slumps into his seat and mutters, "They didn't send me with you to help on the mission. I asked to come with you."
"You what?" I whip my head around, directing a penetrating glare at him.
"I said, I asked to come. I also asked to be set free. 'Course they didn't pass that one." Kivren looks at me stubbornly, defiance and teasing playing out on his face.
My eyes whisper a question to him, but I say differently. "Why would you want to follow me on yet another one of my clandestine missions?"
"Of course! Everyone wants to see the great Wolf Aelise Teronne in action!" he says as if it's obvious.
Action? He's been on missions with me before. In fact, most of the time he tries to show superiority by doing things better than me. "Right . . . whatever you say." I dismiss the subject and leave him to look moodily out of the window.
I walk to the back of the jet and enter the restroom. Packed in a neat vacuum sack is my skintight black jumpsuit. Yes, I know, don't laugh . . . but it's required dress for assassins of the Kandans.
"Automatic flight captain, remaining duration of flight, please."
"Six minutes. Prepare for landing in three."
That fast? Most trips to Artignon take thirty minutes at the least, it's only been about ten so far. Is the computer wrong? Are we even heading for Artignon?
I quickly get up and shove Kivren aside. "I need to check for something." I say.
Down below us lies a broad expanse of cracked dirt, scraggly trees, rubble, and an abundance of tents made from salvaged cloth. Just ahead of us is a battered sign naming this ravaged place as Sterling City, Artignon. Population: 9,653,012(crossed out) 11,000,000
As the jet soars over the barren land towards the line of taller buildings at the horizon I notice the huge clouds of smoke being blown from tall stacks.
"What has happened here?" I ask myself. "They're probably controlling the population by killing off newborns and the elderly. The flight took such a short time because they've expanded so . . . much. But the drought . . . the doom . . ."
"Landing initiated." the computer announces.
A buzzing fills my ears as the jet hurtles to the ground and only stops when we land in a cloud of dust behind a large building.
The side door opens and we are told to 'Dismount."
Stepping out into the gloomy atmosphere feels like walking into a bad dream. The once glorious citizens of Sterling scurry by, some of them casting us furious glances, most not caring.
One particular child whose dejected looks and tired frame don't match his young boyish features grins slyly at me. "Welcome to the place," he rasps, "-where the gods themselves come to die." Then he laughs sarcastically and runs off into the dust.
"Well then, you were right." Kivren comments cooly. "Artignon is a dump. Killing off the High Council should be easy."
"Sure, easy." I pretend not to care about the despair that laces the air like poison. I pretend I look forward to finishing my task and heading back to the Concrete Chambers to sit around and eat assorted delicacies. Because that's what all of the citizens think I do.
"Come on, let's lose these 'bodyguards'." he whispers in my ear, then bounds off, climbing up the cracking trestles lining the walls of the castle.
The megalopolises of this world are like they're straight out of the pages out of a stereotypical places book. Kandu consists of the concrete cities. Slightly dystopic and filled with dark skyscrapers. Artignon, the perfect place to live, with fantastic stone castles and pleasant people . . . though not anymore. Disdern is basically a frozen tundra. Tiveron, the hot, dry desert. On and on the list goes, and I've been to all of them on various missions.
I leap up after Kivren, easily passing him even though he had a headstart. Down below, the two frustrated 'bodyguards' stare helplessly up at us. Not being able to help it, I wave and smile cheerfully at them. They frown at me then run in synchronization back towards the jet.
"That's too bad," remarks Kivren, "Now we'll have the Enforcers after us. But here's the perfect chance to escape, I'm not missing it." With that he jumps down on graceful feet and sprints off through the city.
"What?" I ask his retreating form, then decide not to wait and dash after him.
As soon as I catch up I slow to an easy, loping pace, my long legs eating up the ground. "You had no intention of actually doing the mission, did you?" I ask. "But that was so . . . simple. You were planning this, right?"
"That was the idea." He's panting a little, and I realize that we've covered about a mile and a half already and still going strongly at break-neck speed.
Oh, how I love the benefits of being an assassin.
YOU ARE READING
Underside
Ficção CientíficaAelise Teronne used to be an assassin working for the Kandu Law Enforcement. She was in the Wolf level of assassins, a collection of highly skilled and trained superhumans who were programmed into killing everyone they were told to. Aelise did that...
