Spoils Of War Collection - The Complete Series

Excerpt from Spoils Of War Collection

The journey to work was very frequently the best part of my working day. My default was a public transport. Travelling in my own vehicle would have been faster, which was the reason I did not use it. I used public transport so that I could simply sit and not have to do anything else except let my mind wander as it wanted. We had moved from my hideaway to a space more suited to the three of us, close to the Circle where Asher did most of her work, close to the education centre for Petra, and far enough away from my work to give me a long lead up to the troubles of the day. The transport looped and spiralled across most of Mengchi so I had the pleasant illusion of taking the pulse of the city as I travelled across it.

Mengchi is a vast triangle with the point resting on the sliver of land that had survived the climate control debacle. It was not a high-rise city full of crystal towers like those that made the Penck such a tourist attraction. Mengchi spread out into the space that had been created and maintained by enormous charms that were hidden within other spaces for security reasons. If you approached the land from sea, you would just see a rising spinal of land, step onto the dock and you entered a megalopolis. My daily commute crossed most of the city, jumping from one stretch of rail to another so that it was the best way to get a sense of the city.

The starting point for Mengchi was the Old City, the capital of the Empire when Ingea was carving up the systems like a butchered Clighorn. Now the Old City was a sliver of the Mengchi, happy to be forgotten and keeping its own secrets. While the constantly shifting population on Mengchi sorted themselves by every conceivable criterion, the major ones were the same in every population in the systems: bottle born or natural, rich or poor. It could be as little as a row of public plantings that separated them. It did not matter how physically flimsy the dividing line was, what was important was that it was present and clearly identified by all concerned. The public transport system was one of the few components of the city that served everyone with the same indifferent efficiency. Via an unspoken and unshakable agreement, it was neutral ground for all the residents. Outbreaks did occur; they received swift and nasty summary punishment.

I have spent a great deal of time on public transport, short journeys to get lost as quickly as possible or to lose others. This was the first time I had an extended journey and the chance to look at the city. Gravel is where the bottle farms are, all of them. The track runs through deep canyons with blank walls on either side. This stretch has the most stops on the whole journey, the greatest number of passengers boarding and leaving. Somewhere there is the farm where I was brewed. The jump from Gravel to the bright, open parkland of Hebb is welcome. These are the lungs of the city, there are no stations here. Any lifeform stepping out would be dissolved by the atmosphere and drunk by the plants. Cleaning the air in Mengchi is a harsh task.

A jump through the layered business districts displays and hides the money as required unlike the journey through the residential locations. Here money and the lack of it is prominently on display. Here the rich naturals can be free of the sight of the poor. Poor naturals can be shielded from the presence of the bottle born, and the bottle born can be full citizens, workers, or mistakes, rich or poor, it only matters to them.

Mostly I just spent my time happily lost in fantasies of better lives for Asher, Petra, and myself. A frequent favourite had me as a Tamwal grower out on the Ghtur system, reclaiming a substantial area from the ruins of the war and cultivating the five strains, mashing, and blending them to sell for a happy profit. I could spend a whole journey just deciding how to build a wall or why exactly I had chosen that planting for an area in the first place. The details delighted me; they were so far removed from everything that was actual and were so amenable to my control.

The transport always arrived at the final stop and I left my farms, bridges, houses, space explorations behind me as I exited onto the platform and rode the steps up to the Governing District. The public chamber of the Standing Committee was here. Stacked above it were the individual suites for the committees, stacked below it were the confidential offices for the committee members. Along a wide, crooked street that gave no clean sightlines of the buildings that lined it were the headquarters for various departments, including the Public Relations Agency. Like all the buildings in the area, it had no trace of magic in its construction. It was all built by direct labour, from the carving of the blocks out of seastone quarries to laying the deadwood tiles on the roof, through to all the interior work. Nowhere would provide a possible point of access for someone to trace a path along a trail left by the residual power from the construction. It was as blatant an expression of natural born power as could be publicly made, and it made it loudly and proudly. I was happy to poke it in the eye every day I walked in.

I had returned to my job managing a maintenance section for the Mengchi city sewer system. I had rescued my daughter and stopped a plan to return the Empress Ingea from wherever she had been hiding for the previous two thousand years, and I was really looking forward to the calm boredom of work. Instead, my boss, Allson Gala, was in my office with Rosby, my assistant.

“Shakbout, how are you? I have some news for you. Most unexpected news I have to say. I have been informed that you are being transferred to the PRA effective immediately.” He handed me a small yellow cube. “This is your authorisation. I should be glad that they have heard of the good work you have done here and want you, I am very sorry to lose you.”

Unexpected was an interstellar understatement. The PRA had an informal and strictly enforced policy of employing only naturals, completely illegal, but who was going to take them on. Transferring in a bottle born lifeform was unprecedented, pulling a nobody from the shit pots was ludicrous. Allson Gala showed why he was destined for the heights in the Public Service; he did not question the decision and he was nice to me on my way out. Then he sucker-punched me. “The transfer includes Rosby. Apparently I am to lose on the largest possible scale.” With that, he shook my hand, then Rosby’s, and left.

“What the fuck?” was Rosby’s response as the door closed. I think she saw that my stunned incomprehension was entirely genuine as she then continued, “We best be going. They are not known for being tolerant of latecomers.” With that we headed over to the PRA building where I was shown my space, Rosby was shown to hers, and I was introduced to my new boss, Lincoln.