Homecoming (Blades in the Dark)
Posted: 2020-01-29 01:57am
He took a long drag on the smoke, filling his lungs with the sweet vapor. It was bright out, with the shards of the sun giving a soft and weak glow along the horizon and the moon looming, bright and full overhead. The sky was clear and you could see every bloody star, in the sky and reflected in the void black water. You didn't even need the city's lights to see it.
He heard steps on the corrugated steel deck behind him. He turned to see who it was. He nodded to the slight young man. Not that he was that much older than him. "Arlo."
"Cade," the other said. "I thought you would be up here."
He shrugged and took another drag on the smoke. "Yeah, wanted to see the city."
Arlo walked over to him and leaned against the rail. "All those lights."
"And the lightning." The towers, crackling with arcs of blue-white lightning, loosely surrounded the city. The towers kept the ghosts of the deadlands from coming in and the ghosts were legion. "Crazy motherfuckers fly by in gliders, rigged with metal strips. The arcs fly to the strips and they explode, brighter than star. It's crazy. Beautiful too."
"All of that because of us," said Arlo.
"Don't get romantic about it. The fuckers who own these monstrosities may fuel the city with electroplasm, but they also suppress research into alternate sources. All about keeping their hands on power. Which may fuck us all if the hunting doesn't improve."
"You don't think they'll find the new leviathan migration paths?"
"I think the same fucking assholes, from the Immortal Emperor on down, have stayed on the top and cozy no matter how shitty the world gets. And they'll drop as many bodies as it takes to keep it that way." He took another drag on the smoke. "I can't wait to get off this shit barge. The difference between this and a shitty factory job is this one pays a lot better but is much more likely to kill you."
"You might not have to wait for this job to kill you," said Arlo. "What you did with Jennison . . ."
"Fuck that guy and his boyfriend Caldoon. If they and their little gang were going to shake down new fish, they should have expected push back. And they should feel real fucking grateful that they're still breathing after trying to rape me. It's like fucking Ironhook on this fucking boat. Well, the pay is good and there's much better access to knives, so better than Ironhook. Also the chief's are fucking useless, but that still makes them better than Ironhook's screws, so three things."
"Trouble," said Arlo, his eyes darting behind his friend. He turned. Caldoon and his two lackies were climbing the stairs toward him. He tossed the smoke into the ocean. "This might be the last bad idea you've ever had Caldoon."
Caldoon chuckled. He was big man, fat over muscle and mean all over. "You're a real tough guy, aren't you Cade? You and your little faggot friend are going to take us all, right?" He spat over the side. "We're almost at Duskwall. It would be best if you got off the boat and didn't come back."
"Glad to," he replied. "Anything else or do have some rape and extortion to get to?"
"Fuck you Cade."
"I decline, forcefully. Or did you not get the message from the way I fucked up your boyfriend?"
Caldoon's eyes darted over Arlo. "I got the message. Go. And don't come back."
He nodded and step forward into kick that smashed into Caldoon's groin. He chopped Caldoon in the throat and then grabbed his overalls and lifted. The big man went over the railing and hit the water with a barely audible smash.
Caldoon's bully boys backed up. "I didn't like the way he was looking at the kid. Pitty about him falling over the railing. You guys have three choices. You didn't see shit. You saw him fall over the side. By accident. Or you choose to make trouble with me, which means I stay around with you on a boat where you've pissed off a lot of people by throwing your weight behind assholes who are now very much out of comission. What's it going to be?"
"Didn't see nothing man," said one. The other nodded.
"Now fuck off." They retreated down the steps.
"You should get off his boat. If the chiefs were worth a damn they wouldn't let a crew like that operate and they'll let another form up. You've got experience, get yourself a slot on another boat. One that functions less like a fucking prison." He turned back to the city. The shards of the sun had faded away, leaving more darkness in their wake.
-----
He walked down the gangplank from the mammoth leviathon ship, his sailor's duffel slung over his shoulder. Gantries extended to the side of the ship, illuminated by cold white light from huge electroplasm lamps. The gantries enabled repairs, rearming, and of course the transfer of the precious, precious leviathan blood cargo that filled the boat with its copper-iron stentch and powered all the things that made this crapsack civilization possible.
"Hey handsome," said a voice from the corner. "Want to have some fun?"
"Sorry beautiful,' he replied. "Places to go first. Places to go."
Wagons pulled by huge goats trundled past bunkhouses, warehouses, taverns, and brothels. Lamp posts and windows spilled light into the dark, creating a seething mass of shadows between islands of light.
He passed tattoo parlors and groups of drunk men, street walkers and customers, blue coated watchmen and gangs of workers going to and from their jobs. He passed a laundry and an eel farm as he reached canal side. He whistled and waved, attracting a gondola poling its way through the water with lantern at its bow.
The gondolier came up against the side of canal. She was a tall, blond woman with broad shoulders and thick arms. More than pretty enough for him to want to dance with, vertically and horizontally. It had been awhile.
He handed her a silver coin. "Six Towers."
"Sure," she said. She poled the boat around and headed deeper into the city. They passed bridges and brightly lit districts as she took them down the canals, closer to shore. Dark towers loomed ahead. Power and light were scarce here, a once fashionable district now mostly abandoned by the prosperous and left to the poor and the destitute.
He gave her another two coins and brought the gondola over to side of the canal next to the crumbling ruin of a manor house. He hopped up onto land. Six Towers. Home or close to it.
The once grand manors converted into dormitories and flop houses. The abandoned houses taken over by squaters. Trash on the ground, shit in the yards. Lamp posts here and there, occasional light coming from windows. Hollow eyed men and emaciated women clustered around a drug den. Nothing much had changed.
And maybe not. Hard eyed men, four of them, gathered around a barrel fire. Yellow sashes with blades stuck in them. Young most of them, younger than he was, with one exception. Hook Nose Tony. They knew each other from Ironhook. Tony's eyes narrowed in recognition and the expression on his face wasn't friendly. Fuck.
He moved on. The yellow sashes didn't follow. He walked under the only working streetlamp in the area, just ahead of the scarred house. It was marked by grafitti and bullets, but its bones were still strong and the walls were still sound. He walked up to the solid wood door and raised his hand.
A voice rasped from behind him. "Still not good enough punk."
He turned around. The man had a fighting knife two inches from his throat and a gun held loosely in his other hand. He had a long face, maybe good looking depending on how you liked scars a dark goatee. He was wearing a dark tricorn hat and coat and a smile that showed a mouthful of gleaming white teeth.
"Gunrat. You look good."
"Hardcase, you motherfucker." The weapons disappeared. Gunrat extended his arms and hugged him. "Welcome home, buddy."
He heard steps on the corrugated steel deck behind him. He turned to see who it was. He nodded to the slight young man. Not that he was that much older than him. "Arlo."
"Cade," the other said. "I thought you would be up here."
He shrugged and took another drag on the smoke. "Yeah, wanted to see the city."
Arlo walked over to him and leaned against the rail. "All those lights."
"And the lightning." The towers, crackling with arcs of blue-white lightning, loosely surrounded the city. The towers kept the ghosts of the deadlands from coming in and the ghosts were legion. "Crazy motherfuckers fly by in gliders, rigged with metal strips. The arcs fly to the strips and they explode, brighter than star. It's crazy. Beautiful too."
"All of that because of us," said Arlo.
"Don't get romantic about it. The fuckers who own these monstrosities may fuel the city with electroplasm, but they also suppress research into alternate sources. All about keeping their hands on power. Which may fuck us all if the hunting doesn't improve."
"You don't think they'll find the new leviathan migration paths?"
"I think the same fucking assholes, from the Immortal Emperor on down, have stayed on the top and cozy no matter how shitty the world gets. And they'll drop as many bodies as it takes to keep it that way." He took another drag on the smoke. "I can't wait to get off this shit barge. The difference between this and a shitty factory job is this one pays a lot better but is much more likely to kill you."
"You might not have to wait for this job to kill you," said Arlo. "What you did with Jennison . . ."
"Fuck that guy and his boyfriend Caldoon. If they and their little gang were going to shake down new fish, they should have expected push back. And they should feel real fucking grateful that they're still breathing after trying to rape me. It's like fucking Ironhook on this fucking boat. Well, the pay is good and there's much better access to knives, so better than Ironhook. Also the chief's are fucking useless, but that still makes them better than Ironhook's screws, so three things."
"Trouble," said Arlo, his eyes darting behind his friend. He turned. Caldoon and his two lackies were climbing the stairs toward him. He tossed the smoke into the ocean. "This might be the last bad idea you've ever had Caldoon."
Caldoon chuckled. He was big man, fat over muscle and mean all over. "You're a real tough guy, aren't you Cade? You and your little faggot friend are going to take us all, right?" He spat over the side. "We're almost at Duskwall. It would be best if you got off the boat and didn't come back."
"Glad to," he replied. "Anything else or do have some rape and extortion to get to?"
"Fuck you Cade."
"I decline, forcefully. Or did you not get the message from the way I fucked up your boyfriend?"
Caldoon's eyes darted over Arlo. "I got the message. Go. And don't come back."
He nodded and step forward into kick that smashed into Caldoon's groin. He chopped Caldoon in the throat and then grabbed his overalls and lifted. The big man went over the railing and hit the water with a barely audible smash.
Caldoon's bully boys backed up. "I didn't like the way he was looking at the kid. Pitty about him falling over the railing. You guys have three choices. You didn't see shit. You saw him fall over the side. By accident. Or you choose to make trouble with me, which means I stay around with you on a boat where you've pissed off a lot of people by throwing your weight behind assholes who are now very much out of comission. What's it going to be?"
"Didn't see nothing man," said one. The other nodded.
"Now fuck off." They retreated down the steps.
"You should get off his boat. If the chiefs were worth a damn they wouldn't let a crew like that operate and they'll let another form up. You've got experience, get yourself a slot on another boat. One that functions less like a fucking prison." He turned back to the city. The shards of the sun had faded away, leaving more darkness in their wake.
-----
He walked down the gangplank from the mammoth leviathon ship, his sailor's duffel slung over his shoulder. Gantries extended to the side of the ship, illuminated by cold white light from huge electroplasm lamps. The gantries enabled repairs, rearming, and of course the transfer of the precious, precious leviathan blood cargo that filled the boat with its copper-iron stentch and powered all the things that made this crapsack civilization possible.
"Hey handsome," said a voice from the corner. "Want to have some fun?"
"Sorry beautiful,' he replied. "Places to go first. Places to go."
Wagons pulled by huge goats trundled past bunkhouses, warehouses, taverns, and brothels. Lamp posts and windows spilled light into the dark, creating a seething mass of shadows between islands of light.
He passed tattoo parlors and groups of drunk men, street walkers and customers, blue coated watchmen and gangs of workers going to and from their jobs. He passed a laundry and an eel farm as he reached canal side. He whistled and waved, attracting a gondola poling its way through the water with lantern at its bow.
The gondolier came up against the side of canal. She was a tall, blond woman with broad shoulders and thick arms. More than pretty enough for him to want to dance with, vertically and horizontally. It had been awhile.
He handed her a silver coin. "Six Towers."
"Sure," she said. She poled the boat around and headed deeper into the city. They passed bridges and brightly lit districts as she took them down the canals, closer to shore. Dark towers loomed ahead. Power and light were scarce here, a once fashionable district now mostly abandoned by the prosperous and left to the poor and the destitute.
He gave her another two coins and brought the gondola over to side of the canal next to the crumbling ruin of a manor house. He hopped up onto land. Six Towers. Home or close to it.
The once grand manors converted into dormitories and flop houses. The abandoned houses taken over by squaters. Trash on the ground, shit in the yards. Lamp posts here and there, occasional light coming from windows. Hollow eyed men and emaciated women clustered around a drug den. Nothing much had changed.
And maybe not. Hard eyed men, four of them, gathered around a barrel fire. Yellow sashes with blades stuck in them. Young most of them, younger than he was, with one exception. Hook Nose Tony. They knew each other from Ironhook. Tony's eyes narrowed in recognition and the expression on his face wasn't friendly. Fuck.
He moved on. The yellow sashes didn't follow. He walked under the only working streetlamp in the area, just ahead of the scarred house. It was marked by grafitti and bullets, but its bones were still strong and the walls were still sound. He walked up to the solid wood door and raised his hand.
A voice rasped from behind him. "Still not good enough punk."
He turned around. The man had a fighting knife two inches from his throat and a gun held loosely in his other hand. He had a long face, maybe good looking depending on how you liked scars a dark goatee. He was wearing a dark tricorn hat and coat and a smile that showed a mouthful of gleaming white teeth.
"Gunrat. You look good."
"Hardcase, you motherfucker." The weapons disappeared. Gunrat extended his arms and hugged him. "Welcome home, buddy."