When the Devil Dances

She shook her head after a moment. “We’re just about the only Sub-Urb that has that problem, too. You see, we’re just about the closest Urb to a defense line. I mean, there are a couple of others that are this close and then there was the Rochester Urb…” She paused and shuddered.

“Ba… ?” Elgars asked.

“Yeah,” Wendy said quietly. “Worse than F’Burg really. The Posleen got into the Urb and after that there just wasn’t anything to do. There’s really only one way in and out. The defenders put up a good fight, or so we hear. There… weren’t any survivors.”

“Urgh…”

“Yeah,” Wendy said. “That’s why whenever the news mentions fighting around Rabun Gap we sort of tense up. If the Posleen come through there’s not much we’re going to be able to do.”

Elgars just nodded and kept looking around. Like Wendy, most of the people were poorly dressed. The exception were one or two teenage females who were wearing flashy shorts and midriff tops. The clothing was clearly new, but the style was… different from the rest of the inhabitants.

Wendy noted her glances and frowned. “Corps whores,” she whispered.

“Whuh?”

Wendy shrugged again. “Everybody finds their niche here. Some of them turn into drones, some of them decide to have some fun running the corridors and acting like they’re bad. Others… find a party. The soldiers up top are restricted from coming down here; there were just… too many problems when they had unrestricted access.” She frowned and it was apparent that there was a wealth of stories in that simple sentence. “So after a while the head of security and the corps commander reached an agreement and now the soldiers don’t come down here. That doesn’t mean we’re restricted from leaving. So some of the girls, women too… ply a very old trade on the surface.”

“I do’… n’er’stan’,” Elgars tried to enunciate.

Wendy looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Nu.”

Wendy sighed and hitched the bag higher. “They trade sex for money, Captain. And goods. Like better clothes and food than you can get down here. And electronics gear: that’s almost nonexistent these days.”

Elgars looked around at the high plastic walls and the unending corridors. She thought about being stuck in here for years and shook her head. “So?”

Wendy looked at her again and shook her head. “Never mind. It would take too long to explain why people find that bad.”

The captain nodded as they turned into a door marked “S A Securities.” There was a small alcove on the far side and another door which was locked.

Wendy pressed a buzzer and looked up at a security camera. “Lemme in, David, I bring a visitor.”

“You’re carrying, honey. I’m surprised you made it.” The deep voice came from a speaker almost directly overhead as the door buzzed.

“I just walked around all the detectors,” Wendy said as she entered the sparse room beyond. “And it was a good thing I was.”

There were steel weapons lockers with mesh fronts along the left hand side of the room. The shape of rifles and submachine guns could be seen faintly though the mesh. Opposite the door was a low desk; as Wendy and Elgars entered the room a dark, burly man pushed a wheelchair out and came around to the front.

“You have problems?” the man asked.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Wendy said with a shrug, still bleeding off adrenaline.

“Who’s your visitor?” the man said, watching her with eyes that knew darned well that it hadn’t been something minor.

“David Harmon, meet Captain Anne O. Elgars,” Wendy said with a smile. “Captain Elgars took a little damage a while back and she’s not quite up to form.” Wendy frowned. “Actually, she’s got amnesia, so she doesn’t have a clue about weapons. But she used to. We need to see what she remembers.”

“Remembers?” Harmon said with a frown. “My legs don’t remember running. How are her hands going to remember shooting?”

“The doctor said she’s remembering most of her motor skills; she can write and eat and all that stuff. And… well… I think the Blades would safely say that she recalls some basic fighting skills. I thought we could try at least.”

“You ever been on a range?” Harmon asked Anne. “Blades?” he queried Wendy.

“Crazy Lucy and Big Boy,” Wendy said, jerking her chin at Elgars. “She spent most of her time toying with them.”

“I do-o…” Elgars said with a frown. “I do-o-o ’member… W’a’n’t toy’ng.”

“The captain’s still recovering,” Wendy said quietly. “She’s…”

“Got a serious speech impediment,” Harmon said. “Yeah, well ain’t none of us whole in this fucking place,” he continued with a snort and a gesture at his legs.

He unzipped the ballistic bag and started extracting hardware. “MP-5SPD. Nice. Silencer package. Did you used to do point, Captain?”

“Du-du-dunno,” Elgars answered. “Do’ ’member.”

“She also had a Barrett in the locker,” Wendy added.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Harmon said with a frown. He pulled out the next piece and frowned. “Desert Eagle .44. This is not the weapon of a sniper. At least, not one from a regular unit. Were you in special forces or something?”