Chương 36: Crashing Out

Britt's car crept down the crowded lanes, pausing frequently to let pedestrians move out of its path. Hector scanned the merchant carts, his stomach rumbling. He was so hungry that he wanted to tell Britt to let him out so he could buy some food, but she was looking for the clinic, and he recognized how that was a priority.

"There," he said, pointing to the glimmer of blue-tinted neon behind a bunkhouse trailer.

"Right," Britt said, and her car began to creep that way.

"You in comms with your car's AI?" She shook her head.

"No, he's just a good listener." As they waited for some people to move out of the road, she looked at Hector.

"You really think getting into that tournament will get you access to him?"

"Tacitianus? I don't know. You're the one who said he lives up there." Hector peered through the window, looking past the nearby mine-tailing hills to the bright lights far in the distance, up atop the man-made mountain.

"Seems smart that he'd hole up in his villa if he thought we were gunning for him."

"Well, I can probably find out." She frowned, clearly having some sort of internal debate. Hector took a guess: "Your PK friend?" She nodded.

"I could use a go-between."

"Mutual friend?"

"Yeah."

"Someone you can talk to in person? Someone around here?" Again, she nodded.

"I have a friend I trust. She works at one of the camp bars." She squinted into the hazy reddish-orange glow that illuminated most of Tent Town.

"I've been there once or twice, but I'll need to look around to find it again." As the car rounded a corner and the blue and white lights of the "Camp Clinic" came into view, Hector said, "Let's get me some meds and then you can dump me off at—" He paused, frowning.

"Where are we going to hole up?"

"They rent little prefabs to the miners. I'm sure there are some available." Hector inhaled through his nose, trying to steady himself; he'd been feeling more and more light-headed. Part of it was due to blood loss, part of it was the nanites depleting his body's stored nutrients, but he knew it was mostly the level-up. He felt a telltale burning tingle in his extremities and his limbs felt too heavy. As he exhaled, the car came to a stop, and Britt opened the door. He motioned for her to stay seated.

"Better we're not seen together for now." Her dark eyes narrowed, but she didn't argue, moving her knees to the side so he could clamber out. The nanites he'd injected had gone a long way toward healing his bullet wounds, but Britt was right; the bullets, at least two of them, were lodged in muscles and bones, and he could feel the ache as his freshly mended tissue strained around them. The one in his hip was especially annoying, clicking with each step as he approached the door to the clinic.

The building wasn't large—a prefab structure that was roughly rectangular. Inside the door, he found a brightly lit room with a handful of empty chairs, a plastiglass-shielded window and a single door leading deeper. Hector stepped up to the window to find himself facing a gray-fleshed synth in a pair of blue overalls. It looked up at him, and its LED eyes flickered as a tinny, masculine voice emerged from a smile-shaped speaker near its chin.

"Injured?"

"Yeah, I just need to buy a few meds."

"What's your employment grade with RMC?"

"Uh, I don't have a contract yet." The synth made a crackling, sighing sound and said, "Then the company won't be covering any of your medical fees."

"Yeah, I didn't expect it to."

"In that case, what kinds of meds are you looking for? We don't issue narcotics, and—""I have some foreign matter—call it shrapnel—in my body that I need dealt with, and I've had too many trauma nanites lately; I need a flush and some nutrients."

"The foreign matter, what composition?" Hector wished he'd kept one of the mercs' guns or at least a magazine so he could look at the bullets. He just shrugged.

"Maybe lead, maybe some kind of dense polymer." The synth looked at him, and though it didn't have a single facial expression, Hector could read the scorn.

"Do you think you're the first miner to come in here after being shot? There's no crime in wanting to get bullets out of your body." Hector shrugged.

"Yeah, fine."

"Okay, one pack of Lead-Out—don't worry, it works on most common bullet materials—one Nano-Flush fluid pack, and one Nutri-Boost pack. How about a Top Organ Tonic? It's a kidney and liver conditioner."

"Uh, sure." The synth's eyes flickered for a moment, then it asked, "Do you have an IV cuff?" Hector shook his head.

"Adding one to the list." The synth sounded extremely put out. After another moment, it said, "The total for all these meds along with the cuff is 988. 22 bits. Would you like to apply for credit?"

"No."

"We offer competitive rates, and as you know, having cash on hand is far more valuable than—""No." The synth couldn't frown, but Hector thought the flicker in its eyes looked exceedingly dour as it tapped the payment circle on the counter under its plastiglass barrier.

"Submit payment and I'll gather your meds." Go ahead, Evie. //Payment issued. // //Bit-locker (half-moon necklace) balance: 10, 812. 03 bits. // The synth stood and walked around a corner, its electric joints humming as it moved among the rows of medical supplies. Hector glanced over his shoulder, but nobody else was in the waiting room. Turning back to the synth, he asked, "Any particular order I should—""I'll go over the proper usage of your medications. One moment." Hector's scowl deepened.

Why the hell would anyone design a synth with an asshole attitude? Evie didn't answer, but he supposed that was because he was mostly talking to himself. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. By then, the synth was on its way back with several packages in its hands. As it opened a plastic bag on the counter, it made good on its promise to explain things to Hector: "This is the IV cuff.

Strap it tightly around your arm so the black plastic disk is above the veins on the inner elbow. It will find the veins, sterilize the flesh and insert a needle." It put the box into the bag. Then it held up a liter-sized white pressurized canister.

"Administer the Nano-Flush first. You'll want to stay close to a toilet as you go through these IV packs, but be sure to support the canister as you move around or it will strain and crimp the cuff." After it bagged the Nano-Flush, it held up a bright yellow canister.

"Nutri-Boost next, then this one," it held up a blue canister.

"The TOT—Top Organ Tonic."

"And the bullets?"

"Give yourself a few hours to process all these IVs, then you should be able to tolerate the Lead-Out just fine. You'll want to continue to hydrate and eat plenty of fiber." The synth pushed the sack under the plasteel barrier.

"Good luck."

"Thanks." The synth didn't speak again, and Hector left, feeling irrationally irritated by the synth's dismissal. Back in the car, he put the sack atop the pile of backpacks and equipment they'd taken from the mercs, and Britt eyed it speculatively.

"That's a heavy-looking sack of meds."

"Mostly fluids."

"Take us toward the rental units," Britt said, and the car started rolling. She looked at Hector and explained, "I got directions from someone while you were in there." As the car eased its way down the busy lanes, Hector looked out into the strange, carnival-like Tent Town. He saw more than one cargo-container dollhouse as they went, and there were plenty of shadowy figures lurking between stalls and structures, smoking chem-sticks, drinking, and carrying on.

"You gonna be good to find your friend alone?" Britt snorted.

"I'm not helpless."

"Yeah." Hector gave up, recognizing a losing point of view when he saw one. The car meandered for about half a klick and then it rounded a corner and Hector saw the first of dozens of rows of prefabbed plastic and plasteel rectangles. They didn't have windows, but they all had a small front stoop, a front door, and a single light that glowed amber in the darkness.

A man wearing RMC overalls sat on a motorized cart near the first building, perusing a crystal-glass display, and Britt nodded to him as her car came to a stop.

"He's the guy who rents them out. Want me to handle it?" Hector shook his head.

"I'll pay. They don't know my name."

"True. I mean, besides that, you did kind of wreck my apartment, so…" He snorted, climbed out of the car, and walked up to the man—a solidly built fellow with a blond beard and enough grease stains on his overalls that Hector wondered if he did mechanic work during the day.

"Hey," he said by way of greeting. The guy looked up, sniffing.

"Need a unit?"

"Yeah."

"Fifty a night, but if you're on contract, you get a two-hundred bit credit every week." Hector shook his head.

"No contract yet." The man shrugged and held up his tablet.

"Look into the lens." Hector barely had time to blink before the guy said, "Right. Hector. Got you signed up for unit 7-A." He nodded toward Britt's car.

"Your girlfriend staying?"

"She's not—""I don't care, buddy. Just make sure she reads the rules on the door, same as you. You'll have a chance to renew tomorrow at noon, or you gotta clear out. We good?" Hector nodded.

"Tap payment here." He thumped his finger on the edge of his tablet. //Payment issued. //"Get it?" Hector asked.

"All set, buddy. Sleep well." With that, the man turned back to his tablet, and an idiot smile split his lips. Trudging back to the car, Hector wondered what he was watching.

"Row seven," he said, wincing as he slid into the seat; the bullet in his hip couldn't get melted fast enough as far as he was concerned. The little car started rolling, and he gestured toward the rows of little gray structures.

"Unit A, so it should be on the end."

"Charming, aren't they?" Britt asked, smirking as she peered out the window. Hector could see what she meant; the unit they were currently passing was graffitied with dozens of names. Someone else had come in after the fact to write little epithets to most of them: Boz…is a cock. Jessie…has an ugly mom. TJ…sucks. The car moved past before he could read any more.

"Good place to disappear, though." As the car came to a stop, Britt said, "I'll go find my friend. Just, uh, don't pass out so hard that you don't hear me knock."

"I won't." Hector grabbed his sack of meds, then looped their backpacks over one arm as he scooped up the gear she'd looted from the mercs. He hugged everything to his chest as he clambered out, half expecting her to complain about him taking her pack, but she didn't say anything.

"I won't be long," she said, touching the button to close the door. As the little car rolled away, Hector stepped up to the door of his rental unit and looked into the biometric lock. The door clicked, and he pushed it open, almost dropping his load of gear in the process. The rectangular space contained a single bed and just enough room to walk past it to a tiny bathroom. He dropped the gear on the bed and looked into the bathroom, relieved to find that, despite its small size, it held a shower stall.

Turning back to the bed, he frowned, finding the idea of sharing the narrow thing with Britt a bit much, even as he tried to think pragmatically; he might be able to get past it, but he couldn't expect that of her. With a shrug, he decided the floor beside it would serve just fine. In the meantime, she wasn't there, and he had some meds to process. As he sat down and started taking the IV cuff out of the box, he asked, "Evie, how long until I level up?" //Approximately eleven hours. // Hector looked at his clock.

It felt like it was deep into the middle of the night to him, but it was only a little past nine. Been a jam-packed day. He cinched the cuff around his arm, rotating it so the plastic needle housing was facing his inner elbow. That done, he attached a flexible tube to the onboard pump and then he screwed the other end to the Nano-Flush canister. That done, he touched the green button on the cuff. A tiny pump pressurized the device, squeezing his arm, and then he felt a pinch.

Air hissed as the line filled with fluid from the canister, and then a cold sensation spread into his arm.

"Easy enough." Leaning back against the wall, letting the little device do its thing, Hector pondered the strange course of technological advancement—or lack thereof—that had occurred while he'd been "dead." Some little conveniences were new to him—the IV cuff, for instance—while other things were unchanged—guns, transport, battery tech, even information systems. Part of it was, undoubtedly, the stagnation brought on by a paranoid Empire.

Bureaucracy designed to keep a ruling elite in power tended to have that sort of effect. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was nothing new. The current Empire was six hundred years old, but even before he "died," it had seen its fourth centennial. That was only the current Empire, anyway. How many had come before?

As he thought about the history he'd learned, it seemed to him that most of it had to do with expansion and the miracles brought about by rift-born tech—gravity manipulation, space folding, true fusion. It was all tech that was rare and held dear by the Empire. There were no private companies churning out grav generators—if a city or ship wanted one, it needed a license from the Empire. Under such strict control, he supposed it made sense that change happened slowly.

His bladder began to ache, so Hector lifted the canister, careful not to strain the feed line, and went into the bathroom. He winced when he saw the fluorescent green of his urine.

"Too many damn nanites." Returning to the bed, he sat down and lost himself in random, scattered thoughts. When the cuff beeped, he used the bathroom again, then loaded the next canister. By the time the third canister was done, he'd fallen asleep twice and used the bathroom five more times. Glancing at his AUI, he saw it was nearly midnight. Where the hell is Britt? He stood and walked to the door, opening it enough to peer outside. He didn't think he'd dozed off long enough or deeply enough to miss her knocking.

After seeing no sign of her, Hector closed the door, but manually twisted the lock, which automatically engaged when the door closed, to open. He was stubborn and strong-willed, but he could feel the heaviness in his limbs and the fog on his mind; his system wasn't going to let him stay awake much longer—whatever it was doing. Evie recognized his train of thought: //I'll have a detailed write-up for you when it's complete.

// Hector gathered up all the gear from the bed and piled it on the floor in the corner behind the door. He stared at the bed longingly for a minute, then picked up the last canister—the bullet-eating nanites, and connected it to his IV cuff. The synth had told him to give himself "a couple of hours," but he'd been flushing fluids and taking nutrients for more than three. He figured it would be all right to start.

Once the little pump started humming away and he could feel the coldness creeping into his arm, he scooped the blanket and pillow off the bed, spread them on the hard floor beside it, and lay down. He hoped Britt was just tied up talking to her friend or waiting for word from her PK ex-boyfriend. Something in his gut told him he was being too optimistic, but he couldn't do anything in his current state; he could feel himself crashing out, and he knew he had to let his system finish what he'd set in motion.

Stretching out on the blanket, he situated the canister against the wall so he wouldn't roll onto it in his sleep; then he closed his eyes and slipped almost immediately into oblivion.