Chapter 3

Armin de la Perriere, George and Heather took the Varyag's floeg to the old quarter of Cityplex where they knew there were bars and cafes run by the various Arks who chose to live in Cityplex, or close by. They allowed Arks who wanted to trade with Cityplex merchants premises where they could conclude their deals. In addition, Arks on visits knew they could obtain a welcome amid surroundings that weren't quite as alien as the giant plexes to the north.

Heather landed the floeg on a pad set atop a plex and they took the elevator to the ground. When they entered a restaurant cum bar, Heather instantly knew where they were - she had been there before when Armin had taken her on a sojourn from the airship Normandie.

"I remember," she smiled sweetly at Armin, recalling the memories.

"Hmm," Armin smiled back.

"You were so sweet that night," she sighed.

"Um," George intervened. "When you two have finished, shall we carry on with the mission?"

"I know just who to see," Armin said. "Order us a meal, George, and I'll be right back."

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed. "Who the fuck do you think..." But, Armin had disappeared into the crowd.

George did as he was bidden and found a table. With increasing impatience, he drank down his beer then fetched another.

"Does he do this often?" George asked, searching through the crowd.

"Armin does what Armin does," Heather shrugged.

George sighed and took another draught of his beer.

After about a half hour later, a stranger approached. He was dressed in a long, brown peasant tunic and sported a straggly, unkempt beard. He took the spare seat.

"May I?" he asked George.

"No," George replied, irritated.

"I hear you're asking after the vags," he said, ignoring George's refusal. "I might have some information."

"News travels fast," George told him. "Who are you?"

"Raymond. Until two years ago, I was living among them. I got tired of the life - the Arks, here, took me in."

"That's so?" George replied, suddenly interested. "How did you get down there and why?"

"So many reasons," he sighed. "I guess, for me, I wanted to meet girls."

"Understandable," George managed a grin. "You didn't meet any wherever you were?"

"Only virtually, through flashphones, virtual bars, cinemas ... You can't apply for a cohabitation license until you're 25, then it could take up to two years to process - population control. Some of us couldn't wait."

"I'm not surprised," George raising his eyebrows.

"Some kids go down there for a little, real, illicit sex. Others fall in love and want to live there. There are real criminals down there as well and those who have to revert to crime to get by. Still others are the result of the breaking of the one child rule. A woman, for whatever reason, doesn't get sterilized after bearing a child and has another. You can only hide an illegal baby for so long."

"That's horrible!" exclaimed Heather.

"There must be quite a civilization down there," George thought. "Runaways, criminals, lovers ... How do they all get by?"

"The service trains. There're gangs who raid these and distribute food and things to the others. Some are badassed and demand payment of some kind. Girls, of course, can pay with their bodies. Some guys pay with their asses. Mostly, it's just trading."

"I'm surprised security is so bad," George said. "The authorities let this go on?"

"It's the scale. There are far more trains running around down there for them to protect. Everything, goods, food, everything, gets distributed around Cityplex by service train. You get very experienced at disabling the security and surveillance systems."

"I see. But, the cops pick a few up?"

"No-one is lucky forever. They nab a few and they go before the judge. We never knew what happened to them."

"How many are we talking?"

"Who knows?" Raymond shrugged. "Maybe a 1000 a year - maybe more?"

"So," thought Heather. "We sort of figure what happens to the guys. What about the girls?"

"I don't know," Raymond shrugged. "Your friend said you're looking how some guy called Kroonstad came to be at the mine?" George nodded. "I think I have a way to find out. Court decisions are on public record. I figure anyone with a citizen ID would be able to find his judgement and sentence. Who, knows, might even find out a little about his mother."

"That could be useful," George considered. "Know anyone with an ID?"

Raymond grinned. "There's Board Station down the street. Let's see what it tells us, huh?"

"Hmm, okay. Armin's taking his sweet time, anyway. Why don't you wait here for him, Heather?"

"Oh, great, now I'm left all alone," Heather grumbled.

"Won't be long. Anycase, Armin will be back soon."

"Y'think?"

"Try the salmon," he grinned as he walked to the door. Heather replied with the big finger.

It was ten minutes later when Armin returned. With him was a big, garrulous man, whom he introduced as Istvan, and, who he said, practically ran the place.

"I thought Arks had no hierarchy?" Heather asked, cheekily.

"I am the loudest voice, no more," Istvan grinned.

"Where's George?" Armin asked.

"Went with that guy Raymond," Heather replied.

"Who?"

"Didn't you send him?" Heather asked, worried.

"You know a 'Raymond'?" Armin checked with Istvan.

"Never heard of him," he shrugged. "And I have a good memory for faces. What did he say?"

Heather explained what 'Raymond' had told them and that he'd taken George to check the public records.

"That would be a first," Istvan grinned, ironically. "Any of the clientele with a citizen ID, I'd sure as hell would like to know. Look, you'd better find George, quick. This place has been crawling with plainclothes cops for a good week, now."

"Where's the nearest station?" Armin asked, urgently.

"There's two. One up the street, the other down. You check one, I'll check the other."

"And I'm going with you, Armin," Heather declared, and ran after him.

A little later they all returned to the bar. Both Board Stations were empty.

"I logged in using my diplomatic ID," Armin told Istvan. "I did a Cityplex wide search. Nothing. It came back, ah, 'the individual named George of the Black Guard is not present in Cityplex.' What bullshit is that, Istvan?"

"Someone's clearly tapped into the system," Istvan replied, gravely. "Someone, with a very high security clearance. We could try talking to the Director of Foreign Affairs, but, to be honest, you'd get more action out of a lemon."

"Yes, I know," sighed Armin. "What do we do?"

"Nothing, but get out of Cityplex. I will put the word out on the street. A senior of the Black Guard does not disappear in my town. But, we have to assume you're going to be next. I'll send some of the boys with you till you get back on board your airship."

"But what if he's dead?" Heather protested.

"I don't think so. That's not their style. Likely, they'll just drug him then dump him back over the Floral Line."

"You sure?" asked Armin.

"Regrettably, no. No-one's really fucked with the Black Guard for a good many years. I guess we're dealing with some pretty desperate people. Now, go, quickly."

When Heather and Armin reached the top of the plex, a veritable half eskadre of Bakhunins were there before them. They swarmed around the perimeter, checking, and two of the biggest jumped into the two back seats of the floeg. They were dressed in the manner considered suitable for an Ark walking out into the city - black allsuit, grey bandoliers, autorifles at the port, needle guns on the wrist, and the largest and longest belt knives Armin had seen thrust into their waists.

Armin wasn't happy to leave - wasn't happy to leave a comrade. He couldn't be sure whether it was some of the old residual, Inkubis programming from his past life, or merely his regard for George. As Heather took the floeg up, he glanced back at his Bakhunin bodyguards. Whatever they thought of him didn't matter. He was a senior in the Bakhunin militia and Heather, an aide to their Fladomirova. Never mind, Gina's role was largely ceremonial and none of the three girls, Gina, Sian or Heather, messed in the daily affairs of the United Bakhunin band, this, Armin realized, was a matter of honor. No outsider fucked with an Ark and, in particular, a Bakhunin.

On his own he had no hope of finding George in this giant behemoth of a city that rose up to touch the sky and stretched to the horizon. In any case, Heather would be a liability - too easy to capture and use as blackmail. He thought of putting Heather on the Varyag and diving back in the labyrinth, but he demurred. Simply put, Heather wouldn't go without him, of that he was sure.

Heather docked the floeg to the Varyag and, reluctantly, he followed her into the command gondola of the airship.

Away down south at Bluefields at that moment, Gina woke with a start. She found herself cramped and jammed against the wall.

"Hey Kroon," she said, "move over."

"It's no good, Gina," Sian said from the other side of the bed. "It's too narrow for the three of us. I'll go sleep someplace else."

"Maybe Kroon should decide?" suggested Gina.

"Decide what?"

"Who he sleeps with. Y'know, he has a right to say."

"Yeah, I know, but doesn't that, like, leave the other a little, ah..."

"I don't think," she scoffed. "Since when has he made a move on us - either of us, huh?"

"True. Maybe he prefers guys? I mean, have you asked him?"

"Hey, Kroon, wake up."

"Huh?" Kroon moaned through the fog of sleep.

"Sian wants to know whether you're straight or gay?" Gina asked.

"Oh, like, it's just me who wants to know?" Sian protested.

"She, ah, 'we' want to know whether you prefer sleeping with girls or guys? I mean, there were only guys in that mine, so..."

"I had girlfriends," Kroon answered. "Back at Cityplex. Down in the tunnels - lots of them."

"So, given the choice between Sian and me, who'd you prefer to sleep with?"

"Maybe he's got someone else in mind?" Sian said.

"No, no," Kroon replied. "Do I have to choose?"

"Yeah, well, it's too cramped in here. We could top and tail but then I'd have to smell your feet. Hey, I've got an idea. What say, you give each of us a kiss and see who turns you on the most? That's fair."

"Sure, Gina, you've only wanted to snog him since we picked him up in the Varyag."

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Girls!" Kroon protested. "I give each of you a kiss then choose one. Then will you let me get some sleep?"

"If you still feel like sleeping," Gina sniggered.

"Bitch!" Sian snarled. "I so know where you're coming from."

"Okay," Kroon sighed. "I'll do it. Who's first?"

"Paper, scissors, rock..." Gina suggested.

"Aw, fuck it!" Kroon said. He sat up and grabbed Gina, pinning her down on the mattress and fastening himself to her mouth. He seemed to grind away on her for a full minute, tongues playing together. Eventually, Kroon undocked and let her up.

"Oh, um," Gina said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Okay, that works," she added, a little unsteadily. "He's definitely straight Sian."

"I'll leave," Sian said, looking from one to the other.

"He hasn't finished. It's your turn now."

"Okay," she sighed. "This is such a set up." Reluctantly, she took Kroon into her arms and allowed him to kiss her. He was soft at first, nibbling away on her lips until she parted them. Then, with mounting passion, she gradually sank back down onto the mattress, with Kroon slipping his arm underneath.

"Times up!" declared Gina. "Guys? That's way longer. Hey! Kroon, that's my buddy sister you're ... Sian? Time, now guys."

Eventually, they parted and Sian turned her head to look at Gina. Her eyes were lidded over and she was panting. "Um..." Sian said. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's cool. I mean, I called the match, um ... I guess, I'll go find someplace else to sleep."

"Sorry," Kroon added, before turning his face back to Sian. With more eagerness, she accepted his embrace, his mouth, and her hand came over the back of his head to fasten his face to hers. Gina rolled over them and made her way to the door. She turned back to watch as Kroon began to inch up Sian's thin shift. His hand then came back down to stroke up her long, beautiful thighs.

"Bye," she said, and quickly left.

By the time she reached Sean Beth and Roger's house her tears had arrived in a flood. She ran straight into their bedroom and flopped on top of their bed sobbing uncontrollably.

"What the..." Roger woke.

"Hey, baby, what's wrong," Sean Beth said, sitting up.

"He chose," she squeaked. "He chose..."