CMR Chapter 5

The underway wasn't crowded. Xinztown underways were designed to prevent that sort of complication. They honeycombed under the haphazard-seeming buildings, weaving over and under each other. These were anything but haphazard in truth. They were modeled after the First Empire's Algorithmic Underground Walkway Warrens, a direct link to Xinzhouren diaspora's heritage. They were mathematically planned to avoid undermining the buildings above as well as provide point-to-point shortcuts along the most well traveled paths. At any point of the day, a quarter of a Xinztown's population would be transiting via the underways without crowding, leaving the streets above mostly clear. They were lit and oxygenated by an eerie glowing blue lichen, and many of the Xinztowns on Terra simply reopened ancient underways without the need to build more. 

All of this meant that when Crenshaw, Dolly, CeeDee and Zixie entered the tunnel, it wasn't hard to spot the stranger. It also meant that if that stranger was going to do something they didn’t want witnessed, the time was approaching.

"What makes you think they're following us?" CeeDee asked quietly. She scooped Zixie up and held her close, the doll's head resting on her shoulder so she could keep an eye on their stalker. "Underways are public."

"They've had their eyes locked on us since we got off the train," Crenshaw murmured. "They've called in to report twice. One of those types that needs to touch their ear when they radio out."

CeeDee laughed as if he'd made a joke, loud enough for the follower to hear her. "I haven't seen you look back once," she noted, voice dropping back down to avoid stray ears. "How'd you spot him?"

"Hat," he answered, simply. "Can't see lots of detail, but I can see enough."

Dolly looked over and touched a patch of lichen the way an awestruck tourist might. The action caused the lichen to flare brighter, which would last for a few minutes. "Should I drop back and interrogate them?"

"No," Crenshaw whispered, thinking. "We don't know who it is. It could be Army following up on reports around that Necroid business. If you look like a threat they might think you're ready to make mincemeat of them, too."

They walked in silence for a bit. A gaggle of children appeared going the other direction, and Crenshaw saw his chance. These were yě háizi, unsupervised kids looking to make money and have fun after school hours. The kids swarmed them, offering to sell them maps, flowers, pastries, and suspiciously intact electronics of various brands. "Hey kids, here's ten." He handed the tallest one a digital stick holding ten chits. It was more than they'd have collectively made in a typical day, and they fell into stunned silence. "Someone's following us. You know what to do?"

They nodded and swarmed past, cheering and laughing. Xinztowns across human space were mostly the same. The Xinzhouren held on to their traditions; both from the First Empire and from their more recent history fleeing the destroyed planetoid Xīnzhuo. They were peaceful to a fault, outsiders often thought them backward, but Crenshaw's favorite thing about them was their loyalty. In Xinztown, you were either in or out. If you were in, then it didn't matter which Xinztown you were visiting, they were ready to help. If you were out, then you'd be lucky to make it home without signing up for at least three multilevel marketing scams and getting your pocket picked twice.

Crenshaw waited until the kids had swarmed the figure and then broke into a run. Dolly was ready for the run, but CeeDee had to catch up. She spared a look back. Her sharp intake of breath spurred Crenshaw on and he started plotting out the exact wording of the questions he'd ask on the other side.

There was a shout behind them, but the Xinztown yě háizi knew their mission. Just before a bend in the tunnel blocked their line of sight, Crenshaw looked back. The figure was a young woman with a lime green buzzcut, likely Plutonian. She was wearing a red Martian silk jumpsuit with a white reflec vest, but her bearing was unmistakably disciplined. She was frustrated, but one of the yě háizi, a girl no older than six, handed her a toy phone. Crenshaw smiled; few humans around Sol, no matter how tough they think they are, could refuse to answer a child's toy phone when offered.

They kept running, until CeeDee whistled out and darted into a side tunnel. A few moments later and they burst into the open air near a market street. They turned their pace into a casual walk, and Crenshaw tried not to sound out of breath when he asked, "Alright, spill. You recognize her?"

He saw the flash of frustration in CeeDee's eyes. She hadn't wanted him to notice. After a few steps, she nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, sort of. You see the uniform?"

He cocked his head, thinking. "Didn't look like a uniform to me. Looked like pretty typical spacer clothes."

CeeDee shook her head. "Civilian uniform. She was with the Order of Saint Sarah."

Crenshaw waited, glancing around. When he realized that there was no follow-up information coming, he had to unclench his jaw to speak. "That doesn't mean anything to me."

CeeDee looked at Dolly, who shook her head. "Oh. Right, I guess you're new to all this. They're templars. A Seekers group, exorcists or witch hunters, something like that. If they're after the... the Rat-Thing, it's to destroy it. They're not shy about burning people who dabble, either. They don't have civilian clothes, they eat, breathe, and burn for the mission. Aesthetics, don't own anything themselves. They wear that outfit when they go on leave or they want to be less obvious, but if you've seen one you don't forget."

Crenshaw digested this information. "They don't happen to use Necroids, do they?"

"No," CeeDee answered, eyes rolling. "They don't use curses, either. You really still don't believe after what happened on the train?"

"Believe what?" Crenshaw asked, confused. "That was a classic nerve agent attack. Probably some PPF or other. No telling who that was for, not for sure. Maybe it was someone after us, saw you flirting and decided he was a loose end."

CeeDee stopped walking, staring at Crenshaw with a calculating look on her face. "Are you a betting man, Crenshaw?"

"I've been known to shuffle some cards," he answered. "Why?"

"By the time this is all over, I bet you eleven hundred and eleven that you'll believe." She crossed her arms. Her smirk was back, and Crenshaw couldn't help but notice that it gave her a dimple.

He thought about the bet, then shrugged. "Fine. Easy money. I've never fallen for this sort of nonsense and I never will." He almost asked about the specificity of the number but held back. He recognized it for what it was; a buy-in gambit. Asking something like that would be like asking a bridge salesman how tall the bridge was. Start showing interest and you start walking the path they want you to. Some part of him was excited to play this game with a clearly worthy opponent.

"We'll see," she chuckled. "Alright, we're almost there. That curse would have depleted their reserves by quite a bit but we have to get you cleansed before they get their energy back."

"Sure. Why not. If nothing else maybe your contact has heard something about this Volkert passing through." He followed her for a few more minutes until she slipped into a back alley. The side door to the barber shop was heavy carbexene, the sort of material that starship hulls were made of. The wall would give out before the door did. CeeDee thumbed the keypad and winced. She shook her hand and popped her thumb in her mouth just as a bead of blood welled up. The door slid open. "Is that sanitary?" Crenshaw asked as they slipped into the dark interior. The landing was only a few paces before the stairs down.

The walls were covered with chthonic imagery. On the left side there was a series of pictures of a white python descending, and the right showed a well dressed monkey with a mischievous smirk ascending. Surrounding the path of both was a horrifying mural of damned souls and hungry demons. 

The basement of the shop was covered in charms, and Crenshaw frankly appreciated the dedication. There must have been several thousand of them, hanging from the ceiling, covering the walls, and even embedded into the floor. "No demons allowed," he joked, stepping carefully so he wouldn't trip. 

"No damn robots, either!" a woman's voice called out from the darkened interior. There was an ancient, raspy quality to it that held the weight of many hard years. "Tell the kōngxū to wait outside!"

Crenshaw was about to argue, but Dolly nudged him and shook her head. She nodded at the voice and turned to ascend the stairs. CeeDee winced. "Sorry, I forgot about that. Her family was killed by a synth. I should have remembered."

"Could have saved Dolly the trip, at least." Crenshaw looked back and considered. "At least she's watching the entrance for us. She'll be fine." He looked at Zixie, still in CeeDee's arms, and asked, "Why does the doll get to stay?"

CeeDee hesitated, then broke into an easy grin. "She's just a tandem, remember? It's my mind in her, not a robot or anything."

The raspy voice called to them again, this time a little more invitingly. "Come in, then. Come sit and tell Xinyi what ails you."

They approached, and candles flared to life. Crenshaw stumbled as he saw their mysterious hostess. Her voice sounded three hundred years old. Her face looked no older than twenty. She was sitting at a table, using a candle to her left to light an incense stick. She was Xinzhouren, with almond shaped mono-lid eyes and a golden complexion. She was wearing turquoise lipstick, a favorite among the party crowd in Xinztowns across the system. He forced himself to look away, glancing at CeeDee who was sliding easily onto a stool opposite Xinyi.

CeeDee's voice was light, but she was speaking just a little too fast to be casual. "Crenshaw here got a Gaze on him. Whoever's on the other side of it tried to hex him. Looked like The Unmaking Word."

"Really?" Xinyi rasped. "Sit, handsome. Have you crossed anyone potent recently?"

"I'll stand, thank you," he said, holding his hands up. "That sounds painful and I'm all out of lozenges."

The throat damage made Xinyi's chuckle sound sinister. "It's not contagious. Sit, tell me your story."

He slowly lowered himself onto the stool next to CeeDee and perched uncomfortably. "No story, really. I got hired to go find a rat that means something to you types and CeeDee here is convinced someone cursed me. Don't suppose you know anything about a big important dead rat in the possession of a Volkert woman?"

Xinyi glanced at CeeDee. "He's stubborn. I can see why you like him."

"Okay, Xinyi, I'm not paying you for matchmaking," she laughed. "I'm paying you for a cleanse."

"Can't blame your auntie for trying," Xinyi chuckled. "I can feel the paranoia. He has a Gaze on him alright. I think it's from an attached Glare. Luckily, I have just the thing." She rummaged around in a drawer out of sight.

"Xinyi, was it?" Crenshaw asked, his leg bouncing impatiently. This would have been much more tolerable with a drink in his hand. "I really just need that info, if you've got it. You seem like you've got your ear to the ground in this sort of world. Anything on that Volkert woman? I don't really have the time for a lot of the spinshow nonsense." She produced a bottle of blue, pulsing liquor. The sight of Ixion Ale made his mouth go dry. "Well, I guess we can stay for a little bit."

She favored him with a smile. Wide, genuine and practiced, it made him want to smile back. He tried to maintain a stern expression, but the rhythmic pulse of the ale was almost hypnotic as Xinyi poured it into three shot glasses. Ixion Ale pulsed with light, but the mutant yeast that provided the fermentation also processed the alcohol back into sugars. Every drink was different, from tasteless fire water to sweet tea and anything in between depending on one's timing. Crenshaw loved it, but it was hard to come by this far away from the Kuiper Belt. Her voice cut through his distraction. "Drink when I tell you." 

He nodded eagerly, and she began chanting. Her voice resonated off the walls, echoes and strange distortions grew as she went. He couldn't follow any of the syllables, but he found them strangely relaxing. For the first time in months the nagging feeling that someone was out to get him faded away. She ordered him to drink, and he tipped the first one back without question. Lucky him, he caught it at peak alcohol. He grinned when he felt the burn. He'd barely slammed the glass again when her chant demanded another. He got lucky again, and a giddy chuckle bubbled out of him. When the third drink was demanded, Xinyi had slipped from behind the table and rounded the corner. When he slammed the drink down, another lucky shot, the mystic slid into his lap and pressed her lips to his. He returned the kiss eagerly.

CeeDee shouted, "Hey! That's not part of the ritual!"

An all too familiar taste bit into Crenshaw's tongue. He gripped her by the hips and threw her away from himself, standing up and reaching for his gun. "Goodnight!" he roared, trying to get a good lather of rage. "She got me with a Goodnight Kiss!" His anger was strangely muted, like he'd taken some anxiety medicine. He glanced at the shot glasses and saw residue on the bottoms that had nothing to do with ale. He realized that his hand was stuffed into an empty holster. 

Xinyi was sitting on the ground, grinning with a sinister smile and twirling his gun around one finger. "I broke the Gaze for you, but someone else has paid me to get anyone asking questions about Amaris Volkert or Sephiran Dubhan. Sorry, CeeDee, it's just business. I didn't know it would be you."

CeeDee was pale and shaking. The last thing Crenshaw saw before he tipped over backwards from the Goodnight Kiss was CeeDee stumbling, though he couldn't say how she'd been poisoned.

As darkness took him, Xinyi's raspy voice was tinged with genuine pity. "When you wake up, just answer his questions. Kazpur might not torture you if you're cooperative..."

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