Lost Rain
patreon
(Defunct)Restless - C
🕑 Added 2024-08-13 01:54:08 +0000 UTCFinally resettled on a name for this one after talking to my brother about it. For sure Restless. Probably...
-- -- --
Four years later…
“Thank you, kid.” A meaty hand slapped me on the shoulder as I handed over a stained letter and a box of something foul-scented. I wasn’t quite sure what was on the letter, having received it in such a state, but the burly man didn’t seem to mind as he received both.
“No problem.” I winced as I backed away from the man’s apartment, if I could even call it that considering where we were. Closer to an officer’s quarter more than anything. “Do you want a return service?”
The log of a man shook his head. “I shouldn’t. I know where to find a runner if I do though. Ole’ Terry tip you already?”
”Said it would come from you.” I shrugged. Most people didn’t tip me anyway.
The big man laughed heartily, rubbing at his stomach. “Just like that old bastard… okay.” He retreated back into the apartment, nearly tripping over a mound of dirty clothes reeking of salt, and opened the door slightly more. “Pardon the mess, I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
Or ever, by the looks of weeks-old clothing. Some of the fabric even looked like it was jerky from the salt and sweat. Couldn’t really fault the guy though. Some of the desalination plants worked their workers through the bone- well, most of them. I’d probably be lazy enough not to do laundry myself if I had to work in one all day. Or night. They were 28/6 plants after all.
I stepped into a messy hall of half-rusted metal brackets and cracked bulwarks. I already knew this guy was doing well for himself since he lived in a room all to himself, but as my eyes latched onto the porthole on the side of his room it really sank in. Having a window was an incredible luxury, at least up in the normal parts of the city. I wasn’t quite sure if that still held true down here.
Regardless, the place looked as though a tornado passed through. This was on an ancient scuttled battleship, so the appliances didn’t come naturally. When the thing was renovated, everything was added to it. They were all bolter into the walls haphazardly. The furniture was also bolted down to accommodate for the slight tilt of the floor from where the fallen ship had slowly sunk into the ground over the centuries.
I stopped just inside the door, patiently waiting. Off in the background, I heard a radio discussing what's new in the Voth system. Not that it really mattered. Nothing was new in this place other than propaganda, and even then most of it was recycled. At least, according to Vayne.
The burly man returned a moment later, flicking a small steel coin to me. I looked it over, checking to make sure the code and stamped image of a cornucopia were right. “One Stamp good for you?”
”Yes, sir.” I nodded my head politely to the man, stepping out of his apartment and back into the ancient warship’s halls. Anything was good for me.
The bulkheads pressed in on both sides, pressing even tighter still thanks to the dozens of lanterns and a few small altars scattered down the hall burning with candles. The altars' light seemed to be the brightest, casting deep shadows that were only alleviated by the next one several compartments down.
The altars sat out in the already tight hall, making it a bit too tight for comfort to squeeze by. It was extremely uncomfortable. It's funny, I’d think I would’ve gotten used to it all by now since most of the city was the same way, but nope. The tight squeezes were just as uncomfortable as my first day here.
I passed by a few others going down the length of the hull, most passing by in a hurry with their head down. A few were kneeling by the various altars, heads deep in prayer. I even passed an Unctuous Curate busy anointing candles and refilling the few dangling lanterns here and there.
He was covered from head to toe in a deep black robe. A mantle covered his- no, as she twisted and the baggy robe pulled tighter against her body, I realized it was a her. A mantle covered her head, hiding it in a shadow even as she prayed over a bright candle. Her robe was without adornments, simply held together by a red and fraying rope. A pious air surrounded her, one that I didn’t wish to disturb.
I quickly made my way past her and to a set of stairs, heading down several flights as I walked around the occasional missing chunk of metal or mysterious stain. In the distance, barely audible over the near-constant creaking of metal, a radio played announcing today’s news.
As I descended the stairs, it only grew louder and louder, unleashing a tight knot in my chest as I heard a familiar voice. The caster of Radio Vilth spoke, “-better news, we have confirmed reports that the Governor of Voth Prime has signed a bill to rework sewage systems throughout Vilth, allowing fresher air as the workers fix centuries-old piping and get things flowing back again. Although this isn’t confirmed, the stench of the under-city has finally hit Domeview, causing several of his backers to threaten withdrawals for his thirteenth reflection.”
I hit the ground floor and nearly slipped in a pile of condensation from an atmo unit as it pushed out 'fresh' air into the building. I politely waved to the lady at the reception desk as she knitted what looked to be a pair of socks. She kindly waved back, nearly hitting the radio as it continued to blare out the news.
The door into the warship was actually what caused it to sink in the first place. A massive hole sat in the bottom of the hull, blown apart metal spiking sharply into the lobby area. At some point, someone had gone through and covered it in glass, keeping a visual out but allowing a separate space from the rest of the city.
I stepped out onto the Undercity streets, immediately blasted with the scent of nearly pure salt with the occasional tang of raw, rotting sewage. The nearby atmo units struggled to purify the air, but Vayne told me it was a miracle they were even working after centuries of misuse and shoddy repairs.
I fiddled for a mask at my throat, sliding it back up and into place over my mouth and nose. I took a testing breath, happy most of the stench was gone. Sure there was still the sting of salt in my lungs, but it was far better than choking on every breath.
The streets themselves had probably been pristine centcrete and asphalt at one point, but now they were ground down closer to cobblestone at best and gravel at worst. I carefully avoided most of them, keeping to the sidewalks as heavy tankers and the occasional passenger vehicle drove down the narrow passages, spewing out black smoke. The deep cracking of rocks under the tires right next to me was as unnerving as ever. It was an irrational fear, but I couldn’t help but think what the uncaring vehicles would do to my legs if they were to drive up on the side passages.
I moved with the flow of foot traffic, carefully avoiding the shady side streets and rank alleys as I headed back to the Vilth Lift near the middle of the Undercity. I kept my head on a swivel, weary of any signs of something gone afoul. I’d nearly been buried under a collapsing building the last time I let down my guard. Never again.
The buildings here, if I could call them that, were mostly built up of ancient limestone reinforced with the occasional metal bracket and strut reinforcing the worn-down material. Most of them had probably been white at some point, but the years had turned everything a dull gray-brown color. Other buildings stacked on top of the limestone foundation like layers of sediment, each practically their own building made of differing materials.
I always thought it was interesting looking up and seeing the different building styles throughout the generations the Undercity had been built. It gave a nice scale for the history of this place, though there were some commonalities through every layer.
The fire motifs were spread everywhere, every surface holding at least one. Those that weren’t carved were spray painted on. Lanterns dangled from every protrusion possible, giving off ample light onto the main streets yet creating deep, dark shadows in most alleys.
I liked looking at the outliers through the gaps in the normal city more than anything. The hundreds of massive pillars stretching to the artificial sky far, far above were the most common. Buildings stacked around the pillars, using them as support so they looked as though there were artificial mountains in the Undercity.
There were other outliers, more interesting outliers, spread around. The battleship my latest delivery was in was one such outlier. There were hundreds similar to it spread around. Crashed freighters and battleships repurposed into living quarters or shopping centers. There were also craters from where the ceiling far above collapsed, forming the occasional pond.
Then there was the Vilth Wall, which was by far the most boring. The massive wall ran the perimeter of the city in its entirety, keeping the ocean of Voth out like one massive, circular dam. The city's infamous tens of thousands of desalination plants were mostly built into the wall, serving the dual purpose of generating electricity and purifying the Voth system’s primary export. The roars of rushing water were loud even from this far away.
Really, the buildings blended in perfectly with the people walking around. Or at least they should've. Their salt-stained clothes and haggard faces were betrayed by the bright eyes and cheerful smiles as some smiled at those they knew or struck up a conversation with those they didn’t, eyes reflecting bright flames.
It was a weird dichotomy as I headed for the Vilth Main Platform. The city improved drastically as I approached the middle, with more and more smiles and some buildings that had been painted or white-washed. The crackling fires of millions if not billions of scattered lanterns and candles finally overcame the roars of water.
There were more and more restaurants and other amenities around, different from the heavy industrial sectors near the Vilth Wall and the massive residential loop surrounding the middle of the Undercity. Scattered markets sat all around, centered on a massive superstructure leading up the next layer of the Vilth up above the Undercity. Thousands of lifts constantly moved with groaning machinery and shouts from Enforcers ensuring a smooth flow of traffic.
I got in one of the lines, an Enforcer briefly checking the tag on my necklace before moving on to check the next person in line. After half an hour of waiting, I finally boarded one of the massive lifts, surrounded by thousands of other pedestrians and dozens of heavy haulers and tankers.
”Prepare for lift.” A crackly announcer spoke, all the warnings we would get.
I shifted my stance to a bit more of a stable one right as the massive platform screeched and lurched upwards. A few people fell over, good-natured laughter following as they were helped back to their feet. The groaning metal sounded as if it would tear at any moment as the lift finally entered its shaft. Nothing but the flickering of lanterns, the occasional electric bulb hanging from the rails, and the vehicles' headlights drove off the darkness for several long minutes.
Then light peeked in through a gap in the centcrete as the material of the lift shifted into centcrete framed transteel, allowing a brilliant view of the Undercity. As the lift raised, the view only grew better, allowing me to see the far side of the Vilth Wall. The ascent was by far my favorite part of heading down to the Undercity.
As time passed, we went higher and higher up. The higher we went up, the more the ground so far below turned into one wash of color, sprinkled with sparks and pin prints of fire. They slowly merged together as the lift neared its peak, turning into one massive bonfire as if the whole Undercity was one massive pyre.
