[b]Kangchai[/b]

The streets were lit from above. Broken holes in the clay and granite of the roof above let down bright columns of sunlight to the street below. Green twisting and turning vines fell through with the light, casting their long hands to the city below. At their edges clumps of down-ward facing flowers hung expectantly like anxious hands waiting for something to be passed up. It was inevitable some insect from the multitudes of vendors below might fly up into the rosy pink mouth of the Brahma flora.

Below, the streets were really not much of a street in the sense Nai Kolkota had wide, spread out paved avenues, where vehicles levitated or drove across the inky black paths that cut through the city like canals. The streets of Kangchai, especially in the upper levels were more like glorified walking paths and pedestrian road-ways. All vehicle traffic relegated to the mile-wide mouth of the city's sinkhole had left the twisting and broken channels of the hole's face free from vehicular traffic and where the thousands of city inhabitants walked. On either side, store-fronts and apartment faces stood carved in natural stone or built along the interior edge from brick and steel and mortar. The warm sunlight flowed freely like water down the cavernous passage, reflecting off the aluminum shudders or sides of the buildings and the mid-street decorations.

Tucked high into the corners softly glowing lights helped along the natural sunlight and magnifying its brilliant incandescent warmth. It made as though the suburb was in the clear air, and not really a winding cave with flirtatious views of the empty cavernous pit that the city circled around.

Cai Mi probably didn't need to be so well attended here as he walked through the middle of the street. At his walked two silent armed guards, though their weapons were holstered and they walked just as comfortably and casually as their master. But this was Kangchai, and he was a director. There wasn't much an excuse for the city to allocate some protection for any of their leaders. 

Many of this quarter knew Mi well enough by looks, but over his years his status wasn't as much celebrity as it was normal. He was important, he knew that and so did everyone else. He could tell how they looked to him, expectant, anxious, or politely warm. How much of it was a mask he couldn't tell. But the feelings were mutual either way. He had grown up here as much as they did.

He looked up into the smaller sinkholes that dotted the street's ceiling like irregular skylights. When it rained the light that came through would darken here and a stream of water would flow down in thick ribbons mixing with the spattering of the rain drops. Spattering to the stone below, a river would grow and well as the water rushed down the bricked gutter as the rain water was rushed to its ultimate conclusion: into the storm drains and then below under the city. When it rained the streets were still busy, but the gutter had to be bridged. This afternoon they had been pulled back and the gentle slopped gutter was as open as it could be.

There was a ringing in his ear. Raising his hand to it, it stopped, and a voice spoke up.

“Brother Mi,” a voice said, happy and joyous, “where are you now?”

“I'm on my way home, Jackie.” Mi said, smiling. Jackie was his younger brother. Shorter, skinnier, and probably in some ways dumber. If by misfortune he had come to the Director position, even Cai Mi knew he would be used to clean the floor. He was too much of a pushover person. But he was loyal. “What do you got?”

“Yea, that Tkrai woman.” Jackie said, “Yeah, I found her office.”

“And?” Mi asked.

“She'll meet you, I think.” he said uncertainly. He hesitated for a moment, stammering to try and collect what it was he had been told, “She something about if a director wanted to speak with her it better be in the Under Quarter. I think.”

“The Under Quarter, now why would she want me there?” he smiled, laughing. It was a dumb question and he knew it. He merely wanted Jackie to say it. But he knew of course the heart bleeder would want someone like himself to see the squalor the planet's natives lived in.

“I don't know.” Jackie said predictably, “But she'll be there.”

“Alright, where exactly then?” the director asked, as he stopped at a street vendor. Reaching for his pockets he continued, “Did you happen to know where?” he asked, pulling out a small, clear plastic card from his pocket.

“Pork bun.” he mouthed quietly to the patiently waiting vendor.

“Oh, pork bun.” the vendor cheered, subdoing his voice, “Father always said a man is not a whole man until he has a pork bun in hand!” he smiled, trading the small wrapped food stuff with the plastic card.

“I don't remember.” Jackie admitted, “But I'm sure the police will be able to tell you. They keep a check on this sort of thing. And a white-chick among batpeople shouldn't be hard to find.”

“You underestimate the ability to be a needle in a haystack is.” Ci joked as the vendor gave him his card back. Taking the wrapped bun in hand and credit chip back in pocket, he wandered off. “So you got a time-table at least?”

“It'll be a few hours I think.” Jackie said, “What time did you say you needed to be at Hou's?”

“18:00.” Ci responded.

“Then you got plenty of time!” Jackie laughed, “When do you want to get down, or do you want to wait until she's at the office?”

“Sooner the better. Can you send a cab to the house?”

“Will do.” Jackie said, “I'll put the calls in.”

“Thank you.” Ci said, opening the wrapping of his pork bun. The implant in his ear beeped softly as his brother disconnected.

“Looks like we're going into The Pit.” Ci said, turning to his guards. Beating the bun against his knuckle he shrugged and took a big bite. The two guards grumbled under their breaths at the thought of going down there.

***

The dull wobbling of the off-board motors throbbed subdued in the air-conditioned cabin as the carrier descended down through the sinkhole. Out the windows the scene of Kangchai shifted gradually. As they lowered deeper into the crater and the afternoon's light gave way to wall-cast shadows so did the city become darker. Densely packed residential sectors grew before their eyes, built out into the crater like the grip of an all-to-tight choke collar.

They were entering into the blue collar mid-town. Cai Mi looked out at the passing incandescent glow of windows and electrical street lights as the marching shadows brought on an early evening. Halcyon and electrical glows covered each available space. Bold working class establishments garishly advertised into and beyond the central space of Kangchai, proclaiming their services and purpose to the potential client base.

Shan Mi Liquor. Midtown Grocery. Macau Spin. Golden Lotus. The Congo Beat. Leopold's Tickler. Napoleon Inhaler.

All the same, despite the garish and brutal cheesiness of the names and advertisement lit up in several complimenting languages there was still a sense of pride and in order in the Mid Quarter. The men and women ferried upwards to the refineries and factories a mile outside of town to maintain the machines and robots that produced the city's output and to then partake in a mid-day round of sport in the cut fields that surrounded the city and their work. They had a brand of leisure that was none to different from the upper class that ruled Kangchai or owned those factories and refineries, Cai Mi just had more time to do all of it if he wanted; there was no shortage of Director past or present who spent much of his time playing golf above the rim of the crater.

What loomed below was darker and more threatening than the Midquarter. And the transport kept a course down in those darkened bowels.

Low Quarter was what would be described as the ghetto, if there was not worse below it. People lived here, often on a shoestring and a half. Either taking odd jobs in the quarters above them or living on subsidies purposed to simply keep money moving and the economy functioning the poorer and unfortunate heirs to the post-Earth refugees lived in signature darkness.

When not obscured by the gas giant, Brahma's sun maybe only reached into this area for roughly an hour. Artifical lighting was more normal than natural lighting. There was a murky wetness that clung to the walls and rusted the multitudes of zig-zagging pipes and structural supports that ran across the crater. Below, the muddy bottom of Kangchai crater was visible and the expansive pump complex that floated on its murky clay.

But here was not where Cai Mi was to rest. He had one more level to go. Flying down passed the hand-painted signs for more liquor stores than a man could care to count they descended towards the bottom.

The ship's navigation lights clicked out outside the windows.

“Aw shit man, fuck.” murmured one of the guards on the ship, “I never think I'd end up down here. The Pit? And with a Director too, I was hoping I'd get to sit pretty.”

Cai Mi smiled as he looked at the guard. He was a light skinned fellow with a wide crooked nose. Young, younger than him. He stared white-eyed across the cabin to the window alongside the director.

“I didn't think I would either.” Mi said, “But there's a first for everything.”

“Bullshit, there's no first down here. This is where you come to [i]die[/i]. I'm telling you that. You haven't been to the CSO have you? We keep tallies on how few people get their heads beaten in down here.

“It's rough, I'm telling you! We're up to five guards this month.”

“I understand your concern.” Cai Mi said, turning to the window. Outside it had grown incredibly dark. It was as if the sun had never risen, or was again eclipsed. Even the light's of the city had diffused incredibly. The only traces of civilization that stood were the stacked hovels of discarded machine parts, spaceship sections, corrugated steel, and processed wood. It was all stacked hap-hazardly and thrown behind a litter-choked chain link fence.

There were no lights. And nothing appeared to be moving. No writing. No advertisements. And other than the one they sat in, no transports. Faintly in the distant darkness that obscured the lower caves misshapen shadows would flit across through the buildings. Strange creatures sat perched atop the rambling, heavy pipes watching the descending craft.

“Don't tell us we're going out?” the young card said.

“We got to. There's something I want.”

“Fucking hell, there's nothing that's worth it here.” the guard protested, “And you can get someone else to do it.”

“Like you?” Cai Mi smiled.

“Oh n-no!” the guard stammered, pressing himself back against the wall of the cabin, raising his arm, “I can find you someone else. I can get you in touch with the CSO Officer and he can organize something. Or you can ask the EO. But I'm not coming here or I'll be beyond KO.”

“Well, you are now.” Cai Mi said, turning back to the window, “And we do have a purpose. I was told by my father that if there was anything you wanted, then all you needed to do is reach out to take it. Inaction or reliance on others doesn't bring results. You do.

“I want to make sure I get what I need on my own schedule.”

“Fuck, you're set on this. Aren't you?” the guard moaned.

“I am.” Cai Mi confirmed, his tone confident and his eyes glued to the darkened pit outside. The windows were beginning to grow hazy as they passed through clouds of steam. There was already a bitter, moldy smell seeping into the cabin.

“Look at it this way, comrade.” Mi's other guard said, “We'll only be here a short while and we're gone. Then you can say you survived The Pit.”

“Man, fuck today. I should have called in sick. My stomach was hurting this morning. It really was.”

Outside, the bottom of the crater rose to meet them. Passing by the windows metal chains and concrete pylons crawled into view as the craft began to set down slowly. Winds whipped up by the descending craft kicked into the air storms of dirt, dust and debris that fluttered past the thick glass. Dashing themselves against each other. Being torn in circles around the cabin like flower petals caught in a rotten wind. In the cloud of steam and soot the glow of lights shone, exploding in the darkness like novas of pure white, brilliant light.

Looming over the lower landing pad a forest of halcyon bulbs glow to a feverish white and illuminated the pad in a light like the sun. A benefit to the crew and the passengers as they set down with a soft thump on the concrete. The moaning song of the engines softened and then died as the pilots killed the power and it sat idle and in a glow of white haze at the bottom of the city.

Rocks and barren industry stood all around them. Like tombstones pylons rode. And like the hand of zombies a forest of steel and iron rose from the mud just outside of the chain fence. Stretching and twisting in a thousand directions, and meeting in a bush, a nest of couplings that merged them all at one valve before streaking off in three different direction in three solid trunks.

Here was the pump house of Kangchai. Here was its heart. And those were its veins, its arteries.

“Director Cai Mi and associates, welcome to the Under Quarter.” a voice said over the intercoms. “Awaiting checkpoint clearance before lowering our gates.”

“You hear that. We're here.” Cai Mi's guard said, taunting the younger. He crooned in distressed as he turned his head away from the impenetrable day-time darkness of the Under Quarter.

“We've received confirmation.” the pilot's voice said again, “Lowering entry hatch. Welcome to Undertown.”

With a sharp hiss and a soft breath the rear of the aircraft parted and split. Metal clicked as it unhinged for itself, opening up on three hinges as the opened like a blooming flower. These ships were military designed, and for the most part they could took a projectile moving at mach speeds and remain operable. The Listeners had ensured a wash of many of these across Brahma, but there was rarely enough army left to justify military use of them.

Rising open the coldness of Under Town's air swept in with the electrical light of the outside. Washing across the silver and alabaster tile of the ship's interior. Killing the comfortable warmth was a harsh humid breath. Rising off of the velvet seats, Cai Mi stepped out through the door, hands wrapped before him. His guards hesitantly followed.

“Now, I've seen some pretty fucked up tourists in my time, but never a director.” a voice laughed loudly as Mi stepped out onto the dirty asphalt of the landing pad. He turned to the source, laying eyes on a haggard middle-aged man. A wide excited smile defined his face as he walked over, his arm resting across the stock of a beefy assault rifle, twinkling LED lights along its side read out all too clear the weapon was charged and live.

“And if I haven't had a good enough fucking day already, he brings his escorts.” he laughed, gleaming at the two guards that accompanied Cai Mi. He was obviously enjoying this moment.

“Do excuse the informality.” he apologized weakly, still laughing between breaths, “But this is too much to take in!” he cheered.

“No offense taken.” Mi smiled.

“Good. Very good!” the Undertown guard smiled, “It's nice to meet people who are for once on the same page as me.

“And records would indicate this is all your first trip to the Under Quarter. And as such we're required to give you the safety orientation for walking its streets. Are you ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” Mi's younger guard chirped nervously.

“I fucking love this kid. I tell you.” he cackled, “I can tell he hasn't seen some poor Pup eviscerated because he looked at someone else the wrong way.”

The guard straightened his back, taking a deep breath as he composed himself. “I am Staff Sergeant William Ho of the 3rd precinct of the Under Quarter police office, security branch of the Enforcement Office of Kangchai. As customary to new visitors of the Tkrai Housing Quarter we are addressed to give a brief summary of safety protocals in regards to maintaining the peace and security of our Tkrai bretheran and to any humans who would work or deal with and among the Tkrai tribal communities who have accepted annexation into the Greater Kangchai Administrative Operations.

“Visitors are encouraged to operate quickly and quietly in the quarter as to avoid provocation.

“Visitors are asked to hand over all weapons, unless viable exception is made.” he paused, looking at the two guards, “If you're a member of the EO and are down here for the first time it's highly advised you keep your weapons in the open, but to never point them at a Pup.” he added, obviously informally. He winked at the two guards, giving a sly smile.

“Visitors to the quarter are to be accompanied at all times be a minimum of two armed service men and are expected to make 24 hours previous notice to the precincts to organize a working escort.” he continued, returning to the professional tone, “They are to yield to and respect any and all orders given by their security escort in a effort to preserve their personal security.

“The Enforcement Office also wishes to add that you surrender any and all valuables and update us to you or your relatives contact information. We do not takes responsibility for your personal injury or death.”

With a deep inhale and exhale he finished, relieved. “Welcome to The Pit.” he smiled, “If you will follow me into the checkpoint we can process you. And given your status and rank it has been decided that your escort is increased to five guardsmen who will accompany you to your destination.”

The guard turned on the armored soles of the boots, walking to the concrete structure flooded with innumerable lights. Set in the corner where the bunker connected with the landing pad was a single heavy metal door and bulkhead. Both swung open as the guard passed through, followed by the guests.

Inside was a surreal contrast against the eerie darkness outside the door. Here, soft lights lit up an armada of desks and bunks like it was the natural effort of the sun itself. The building was all one big continuous room. In one corner, guards slept in metal bunks while in the middle men and women brooded over monitors collecting information and calls from inside the quarter itself. Ambient music flooded the air, and it was warm and friendly. Even the people worked and operated as if they weren't in the darkest part of town.

In the far corner banks of lockers on lockers lined the walls. Running from the far corner to the room's only door was storage for the employees valuables and gears. And by the small groups of guardsmen and women dressing and undressing there was no doubt where they changed gear.

Handfuls of small black eyes dropped down from the ceiling, giving a stern watch over the officers below and the guests as they walked in. William Ho whistled a nonchalant tune as he wove them through the desks. Leading them into the center where stood a large clear plastic desk. Sitting behind it an older man sat brooding over a projection tablet, sorting out a number of personal and business affairs across the air in front of him.

“Captain Chu, sir.” Ho saluted, stopping before the desk, “The director is here.”

The old man looked up. He had a dark broad complexion to powerfully Uighur features. He looked at them with a flattened subdued expression. “I can see.” he said, “I take it then this is in regards to Mary Dulard? I got a message earlier about this.

“In all honesty sir, I would have liked longer notice.” he added. “But there's no refusing the Board of Directors on anything.” he added in a sour tone.

“Sit down for a minute, we'll talk about things.” he said invitingly, “Staff Sergeant Ho will give your men their own briefing.” he ordered, looking up to the patiently waiting Ho. 

The sergeant bowed, turning to walk off with Mi's accompanying guards.

“I don't suppose if you're down here that you can't simply go to Dullard's office and meet her.” Chu said in a low voice.

“She's never returned a call of mine and never made good on scheduling promises when I sent someone over personally, if she's actually ever in.” Mi admitted.

“Aye, I know that type.” nodded the captain, leaning back into his chair, “Both of us know then she hates something and is protesting it.”

“I think I know well what she hates.” laughed Mi, “After all, it's not like the Bat People have been elevated beyond waste management.”

“Certainly.” Ho laughed, “So it seems you are aware she hates you and won't give the Directors or Executive Officer the time of day. So why even bother?”

“Because I need her support, for once.” Mi said, “And I would like an immediate answer.”

“Well cornering her with seven armed guards will certainly nail the message home.” Ho chuckled, looking over to the men and women suiting up at the far wall, “They should be ready in five minutes.” he said.

“Good to know.” Mi nodded, absentmindedly scanning the captain's desk. All sorts of clutter filled his desk space, from side-arms and their batteries. To various office toys and his administrative tools. A console with an open window for a media player sat open at his side, he no doubt controlled the ambiance. And packed in a metal box just near it was a container that held a large amount of what appeared to be old-world bank notes.

“Doesn't it get uncomfortable with them that open?” Mi asked, looking at the lockers. The guards there had certainly dressed up passed certain undress.

“We're basically the army down here, and if training and service on Earth has desensitized me to anything it's nudity. Even the younger service women don't give me a hard-on anymore. It might be impossible to think, but in these cheap conditions tits have gotten boring.” he said it almost as listlessly and dead as it sounded.

“I'm sorry.” Mi said.

“It's the sacrifices we all make.” he laughed. “Anything else? I'm sure me men can fill in anything else. It's common sense there. And it's often best you don't look at most Bat People in the face. And you're not armed so I don't need to worry about you starting any riots.”

“You can tell me about the box.” Mi said, nodding to the metal container.

Ho looked over to it, and laughing cheered, “Those? Those are just Likes!” he said, laughing, “I know we should really be burning these things. But their value now is so deflated no one ever gives a shit. I burn a million and we bring in two-million the next day. I'm just the over-stock for the week.” he laughed.

“I've heard a lot of talks about Likes. But never saw one. Can I have a look?” he asked, handing out his hand.

“Sure, take the whole fucking container.” Ho laughed, leaning over and picking the crate up. Swinging it onto his desk he dropped it down in front of the Director.

“I'm sure you're aware that Likes are so unregulated that they're the defacto drug and sex money for down here and in Low Quarter. But what I bet no one has said is that their value fluctuates so fucking much they're unreliable. Now-a-days it's more valuable to trade a blow job or a cheap pork bun for some narcotics and fun.”

Ci reached into the box and pulled out a wad of cheap paper notes. All of which looked like re-prints of old-world bank notes. There wasn't even an effort to change serial numbers. Almost all of them had the same series.

On top of the shit forging, they had been vandalized in many ways. On top of the terrible rendering – old-world JPEG quality at best – they had been drawn over with mustaches, penises – human and alien – and crude slogans or ads.

“I can wipe my ass with them and get a better value in quality and price next quarter up.” chuckled Ho.

“So why aren't these destroyed yet?” Ci asked.

“Because this week they're useless. We keep an eye on their value for when we should be really worried. But frankly sir, I feel like we shouldn't. If you allow me to, I can keep these for when their value does skyrocket. We could use the financial weapon if we're going to fight the black market. I could have a million Likes right now and still not be a credit richer.

“Or is someone up-top into some bat in the evening?”