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Brother Martin led the fixers through the labyrinthine tunnels of Gethsemane’s Underworld at a brisk pace. The sparse gray walls, strange smells, and near-constant white noise felt like so many other artificial environments Roland had seen in his career. Thrift and efficiency dictated the design and functions of these early colonial outposts, and as such most of them looked exactly the same. The great abandoned research stations that formed the bulk of Galapagos, the squat bunkers of Thorgrimm, the bowels of Enterprise Station, and even the old colony domes of Venus all testified to the necessity of form over function. Main corridors were wide enough for cargo vehicles, high-speed maglev tram lines ran in convenient rings throughout the various zones. Subtle recessed lighting cast a cold, shadowless glow across all the surfaces. They could have been anywhere, and it would have looked just the same.
Yet against the backdrop of all that familiarity, the differences only stood out more starkly. The Underworld looked like lots of different places, but it did not feel like any of them. As the tunnels took them deeper, Roland became ever more aware of the billions of tons of rock and dirt squeezing at the silver and gray structures around him. He had become accustomed to the crushing pressure and toxic liquid atmosphere of Venus while a soldier. Since his conversion to a cyborg the vacuum of space held no great novelty, either. Yet with each passing step, the depth and darkness of the Underworld reminded him of the only other point in his life where he had spent any length of time underground. A cell beneath a mountain back on Earth had been his home for almost four years. It still surprised him every time how the feeling of being underground brought back all the horror and despair of his time spent as a slave.
Lucia picked up on his mood shift before anyone else noticed. She nudged his arm while they walked. “You okay, big guy?”
“Yes,” he said.
Her answering scowl indicated in clear terms the inadequacy of that uttered syllable. She elected not to push for more, even as her expression informed Roland that conversation was not over. Instead, she addressed the friar. “How much further, Martin?”
“We’re here,” he replied. Martin indicated a tall double door along the corridor. “I’m pretty sure whatever you are looking for will be in here.”
“Well, that’s super cryptic,” Mindy said with a dangerous look.
Martin held up his hands. “I say that because there are only so many things people like you come here to do. If you want them done, this is where you will need to start.”
Martin slapped a palm to the door control. The twin panes separated, releasing a burst of loud, angry music. A blast of fetid air ripe with the stink of sweat, drugs, and alcohol followed. Beyond the threshold, a short corridor opened to reveal a large room packed with undulating people in various states of inebriation and undress.
“Shit,” Roland groused aloud.
Manny’s jaw dropped, and he pointed to a couple writhing around in a nearby booth. “Are those two people actually—”
Mindy quickly covered his eyes with a palm. “I’ll explain later, Manny.”
“He knows,” Catrina said with enough conviction to make Manny blush.
“Where the hell are we?” Roland asked.
“Purgatory,” said the friar. “Not hell. Hell gets really crazy.”
“As opposed to this?” Lucia’s tone had taken on a shrill quality.
Martin chuckled and waved them in. “Come on. Stop gawking like tourists. Let’s find your guy.”
“What does that mean?” Roland said, falling in behind the friar. The crowd parted as much as possible in the tight quarters in deference to Roland’s bulk. Still, even he suffered with the jostling of sweaty intoxicated bodies. His height gave him the chance to take in the whole scene, and his face twisted in disgust at all the unvarnished decadence he found. Amidst the flashing of saturated neon light, nearly a thousand people enacted every sin ever imagined by pious clerics to the drumming beat of loud, toneless music. The sound itself was a thing alive, pulsing in waves that he could feel against his cheeks.
“People like you always have a guy,” Martin said over the noise. “A contact person, a local informant, maybe a DECO guy or something. It’s always something like that. The sooner I get you to your guy, the sooner you get your business done.” He shouted to be heard over the general cacophony of the wild bacchanal in full swing around him. “The Sword Brothers will be a huge pain in the ass now that you’ve slapped one around, so I figure helping you on your way is a good idea.”
“Sorry,” said Roland. No one within earshot believed he was.
“It’s probably going to help you with the local scene.” Martin shrugged and pointed to a booth. “Go take that booth and I’ll ask around.”
Three rough-looking men occupied the indicated booth, and Roland wondered what the friar meant by “take” it. The question found its answer when the trio abdicated their seats without hesitation as the fixers approached. Each gave the group a grin and a nod as they left. “Well, that was easy,” Catrina observed with a raised eyebrow. The walls of the booth offered some protection from the light and noise to everyone’s relief.
Mindy slid into the seat first and checked the menu screen. “Told ya knocking that asshole around was going to make you popular,” she said. “I bet they comp our drinks too.”
Catrina slid in next to Mindy and checked the menu herself. “I hope they do, because no sane person would pay money for any of this garbage.”
“What, they don’t have any fancy stuff for you?” Mindy’s eyes twinkled.
“I don’t think I’d drink the tap water here,” Catrina replied. “Half the stuff on this list is made with hallucinogens.”
“No shit?” Mindy looked back down at the screen. “Anything good?”
“You’re on the clock, Mindy,” Lucia snapped.
“Party pooper.”
Lucia sat down across from the other two women. “This is not a party.”
Mindy gestured to the noisy throng. “Feels like one to me.”
“Mindy...” The clear warning in Lucia’s tone deflated the assassin’s cheerful posture.
Mindy slouched. “Fine. But I’m coming back here later!”
Lucia looked to Manny, who had yet to sit down. He watched the crowd, tight-lipped and narrow-eyed. “What’s up, Manny?”
“Inquisitors,” he said. “Wearing sophisticated surveillance gear under their clothes.” He flexed the white fingers of his left hand. “Obviously they aren’t used to people like me being down here.”
“Can you point them out?” Roland asked.
“Tall guy in long black coat, no sleeves.”
“Green hair?”
“Yes.”
“Got him. Anyone else?”
“Two men at the bar, one on his comm. The other is pretending to play Scarab by himself. He’s actually scanning the hell out of you, Mr. Tankowicz.”
Roland rumbled deep in his chest. “Fat lot of good that’ll do him.”
Manny wiggled his fingers again. “That’s all I’ve found so far. My range is not good with all the interference in here. But they are loaded with spy tech.”
Roland nodded to Lucia. “Boss?”
“Leave them be for now,” she answered. “No sense bothering them if they aren’t bothering us. Catrina, do our friends in the Administrati have any influence over the Inquisitors?”
“Nobody does,” Mindy answered for her. “If the Administrati claim they do, they’re lying.”
Catrina nodded her agreement. “I think Mindy is right, here. I doubt Deacon Morris has that kind of clout.”
Brother Martin chose that moment to return. He sauntered up to their table and sat down. “Well, I believe I have located your contact person. He should be joining us presently. I’d recommend a drink from the menu, but my faith and my sense of prudence prevent me from touching anything they serve here. God would not look kindly upon me if I did not warn you before you made your own choices.”
“We’ll pass,” Lucia said. “Did you know this place is crawling with Inquisitors?”
The friar’s face darkened. “I assumed it would be, but I have no gift for spotting them.”
“There are at least three here, and they are already very interested in us,” Lucia said. “I don’t know how long we can stay out in the open like this.”
Martin considered this. “The Inquisitors won’t do anything untoward in here. They simply don’t have the numbers. If a troop of Sword Brothers shows up it might get ugly, but that would be unlike them.”
“Even if they were real pissed off?” offered Roland.
“Even so,” Martin replied. “There are far too few of them to do much more than represent a token attempt by the Church to patrol down here. Any time they try to do any actual law enforcement things go...” Martin winced, looking for the right words. “Poorly.”
“Impasse,” Roland grunted. “I get it. They have enough firepower to walk around safely, but if they get too big for their britches the whole place turns on them.”
“That’s the long and short of it,” Martin said. “They cannot live inside that armor, and everybody has to eat, drink, and sleep eventually.”
“Sounds like Venus,” Manny said without taking his eyes off the crowd.
“Never been,” replied Martin. “But I think we are safe enough to wait here for your DECO contact for the moment.”
Catrina rested her chin on her hands. “How easy was it to find a DECO operative?”
“Oh, I didn’t find him. I just let it be known that the strangers who beat Sir Francis half to death in the atrium were here to meet someone. The rumor mill took care of the rest. Your contact probably had to bolt after your fight, so I just let him know where to find you is all.”
“Won’t the Inquisitors not like that?” asked Catrina. “They can see you right now.”
“The Inquisition already knows that I am trying to help you so you will leave. You are no threat to them, nor are you of any value to them. So long as I don’t participate in any sinful or seditious acts, they’re probably thrilled to have me doing their job for them.” Martin winked at Catrina. “I get that a lot. People down here know me and trust me. I don’t take sides, and I don’t pick fights. I minister to the sick and the hungry no matter their affiliations or circumstances. The Knights, the Inquisitors, and the common folk, all of them. I serve God doing what I can to make sure everyone finds their path to heaven in their own time and way.”
Lucia’s face broke into a smile. “You’re a fixer.”
Martin frowned. “I’m not familiar with that term.”
Roland explained. “You stay out of the bullshit, so folks who are into the bullshit feel safe around you. You can fix problems before they get out of control. People come to you for help because they know you aren’t beholden to their enemies.”
Martin shrugged. “I suppose so, yes. Is that what you do?”
“Our methods differ slightly.”
The friar barked a harsh laugh. “Hah! I bet!”
Manny continued to scan the crowd with eyes and tech both. “How long should we wait?” he asked after a few minutes had passed. “Just picked up another Inquisitor.”
“That makes four,” Lucia said. “Is that a lot, Martin?”
“More than I’ve ever seen in one place, to be honest,” said the friar. “Not sure how I feel about that.”
“And there’s five,” Manny said. “I’m starting to get uncomfortable.”
“Me too,” said Mindy. “This ain’t right.”
Martin stood. “I’m starting to think you might be on to something.”
A thin man with wispy gray hair approached their table. Manny stiffened and Roland shifted to block his access to the others. The man held up one hand. “Mr. Tankowicz?”
“Who’s asking?”
“Ask Mr. Richardson,” was the cryptic reply.
Manny held his left hand up to their mysterious guest. “He’s DECO, boss. Identicator checks out. His name is Saladin.”
The stranger nodded his thanks. “We need to go. Now. Friar?”
“Yes?”
“You can leave. You don’t need to be caught up in any of this.”
Martin pressed a palm to his chest. “Thank you. Good luck, all of you. God’s blessings be upon you.” He stood from the table and blended back into the crowd. Roland watched the strange man leave, letting his gaze linger longer than necessary. Something about Brother Martin made him uncomfortable. He did not doubt the man’s sincerity; he just struggled to comprehend how a man could hold on to his convictions in the face of Church hypocrisy. Roland had never understood faith. It confused him. As he had done many times before, Roland referred himself to the time-honored method of not worrying about what other people believed. It helped.
“Let’s go,” he said to his team. “Stay behind me. Manny, I want to know if any of our new friends start to follow us.”
“Got it.”
Lucia addressed their DECO contact. “Lead on.”
The man turned, and the fixers followed as he knifed through the noisy clumps of revelers. With no chance of being inconspicuous, the group contented themselves to move at a brisk pace.
“Bogeys falling in,” Manny said. He had to project to be heard over the crowd, though it seemed a safe bet none of the intoxicated people cared what he had to say. “Not on intercept, though.”
“We’re being tailed,” Roland said to their guide.
“That’s not good,” was his unhelpful reply.
They reached the door and found their way back into the hall. “Wait,” Lucia ordered.
Saladin turned. “We need to keep moving.”
“Those Inquisitors will just tail us to wherever we are going.”
“You have a better idea?”
“Yes,” said Lucia. “I’m going to talk to them.”
Saladin’s eyes went wide. “That is not a good idea, ma’am.”
“Don’t argue,” Mindy said. “It’s a waste of time, and she’s usually right. Just watch.”
“Just sit back and relax,” Lucia said. “We have a way with people.”
Saladin rolled his eyes. “Your call, ma’am.”
Less than a minute later, the door to Purgatory slid open and five men stepped into the hall. The sight of Roland leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and Mindy toying absently with her sasori dagger brought them to an abrupt halt. For an instant, no one moved.
When it felt like the tension could get no thicker, Mindy plastered a big smile on her face and waved. “Hi, boys! How’s that Inquisition going?”
For a moment, it looked like the men might try to deny it. Then a small popping sound, followed by a tiny blue arc of electricity burst from beneath the collar of the green-haired man. “Oww! Shit!” he cried, pawing at his neck. He stripped a small electronic device away from the burned skin and dropped it to the floor.
Manny chuckled. When the Inquisitors turned to glare at him, he shrugged and waggled his bionic fingers. “Oops. Sorry. Didn’t realize it was loaded.”
Indecision seized the group. Hands hovered near belt lines and the weapons concealed beneath their clothes.
“Steady, boys,” Roland rumbled in his politest growl. “Just want to chat, is all.” He stood to his full height. “There’s nothing under those coats that will even scratch my paint job, so just take a second and think before you do something stupid.”
The man with the green hair straightened. “God protects us, so we have no fear of you.”
Roland raised an eyebrow. “Did God give you armored skin and a sixty-ton deadlift? ‘Cause if he didn’t, you’re going to want to rethink that whole ‘God protects us’ bit.”
Mindy snickered. Lucia silenced her with a sharp look, then turned her attention to the Inquisitors. “Gentlemen, I’ll be frank with you. We are here on behalf of a client, and we intend only to conduct our business and leave as soon as possible. Our operation has nothing to do with the Church, and we have no desire to run afoul of your own operations. Honestly, if we have to worry about the Inquisition as well as achieving our goals here, it will only make life harder for everyone. I’d like to take this opportunity to offer you our good will and our promise to act in good faith while we are here. We’d ask you to leave us to our legal business.”
“Oh, we are quite aware of your employers, Ms. Ribiero.” The green-haired man fixed Catrina with a pointed look. “The Inquisition does not trouble itself with the worldly conflicts of greedy idolaters and thieves. But it is our duty to gather knowledge about what goes on so close to the Garden. We merely observe and report.”
Mindy snorted a harsh laugh, drawing angry glares from both Lucia and the Inquisitors. Green-hair turned and smiled at her. “And welcome back, Melinda Carter. We have followed your career with great interest. Elder Polito was quite distraught when you failed to show up for re-education, you know.”
Mindy’s face flushed in a way Roland had never seen before. He thought he detected a tremble in her hands, stifled only when her grip on the black blade cinched tight enough to turn her knuckles bright white. “Elder Polito can go fuck himself. Or maybe he’s fucking some other fifteen-year-old girl he bought at auction. I can’t imagine anyone would do it willingly. You run and tell him I said that.”
Green-hair waggled his eyebrows. “Rest assured, I will. He was delighted to hear you had returned. I’m sure he’s very anxious to see you.”
“The next time he sees me, I might just kill him.”
“Enough,” Lucia said. “Miss Carter is a member of my team, and she is here legally. You can check with—”
Green-hair waved her off. “Yes, yes, we are aware of your bribes to the Administrati, Ms. Ribiero. Miss Carter is not currently wanted for any crimes here.” He winked to Mindy. “Yet. Your offer is fine with us, as well. Do not foment sedition, do not break our laws, and confine yourselves to non-holy places. If you do that, you can expect little more than professional curiosity from us.”
“Sounds fair,” Lucia said.
“But if you try to hide from us, if you attempt to deceive us,” Green-hair hissed and shook his head, “you will find our response much more problematic than Sir Francis and his bad manners.” He pointed a finger to Roland. “You should not have done that, Mr. Tankowicz. The Sword Brothers are not the most enlightened of the Knightly orders, but well,” the eyebrows waggled again, “they do not run from a fight. Any fight. They are like mad bulls when angered.”
“Then I shall teach them the value of humility,” Roland intoned with mock solemnity. “And I weep for the future of their order if they don’t learn the lesson quickly.”
Green-hair bowed his head, mimicking Roland’s sarcasm. “You may go with God, Roland Tankowicz.”
Roland attempted his most professionally polite smile. “Something tells me God’s gonna sit this one out.”