THE CITADEL

Rigel adjusted her air filter mask as she ascended back to the surface. The radiation levels were low underground, but the caustic, arid air on the surface was enough to make a non-smoker choke. Wishing she had not agreed to take the father and son team across the roasting oasis to Palatine, a level five Citadel. After all, these two were just level three citizens. They were barely worth the credits promised upon delivery. Hell, they barely made the initial payment to sweeten the agreement. The male and his child had very little training to trek kilometres through one of the riskiest ventures of their lives. Rigel herself even doubted that they would make it this far. But she had to admit that the father was obstinate enough to keep his son’s spirits up, no matter the cost.

As Rigel came around the massive crumbling structure, she smirked and playfully dodged as Jasil spun to face her with his dagger held out. “Good reflexes, breacher, but as you can see, I still hold the upper hand.” Her dagger hovered just under the man’s throat. Just a swift flick of her wrist, and his life would be forfeited. But then, what would she do with the scared young man in the catacombs below? Maybe sell him into slavery as an indenture for the travel costs thus far? No. She first wanted to see how far this would go.

“Sorry, Rigel-san.” He relaxed and lowered his guard, then shook off the camouflage blanket that he had used for warmth and cover. “I’m a tad jumpy after the stimulants.” He looked to his son and said, “I’m not used to being out here, exposed.”

“Jasil-san...” she sheathed her dagger. “You should go down under and attend to your son. He woke, asking for you.” She pointed to the distant smoke-coated sky as a pink ball of fire rose in the distance, marking the start of a new day. She then gestured to the facemask he wore. “You’re wearing it loosely again.” She tsked, “It must’ve been very difficult to breathe.”

Jasil took the binoculars away and coughed. With rings of dust around his eyes, he blinked tearfully at the ash and the plastic dust particles in the air. He allowed her to readjust his gear so that nothing got in. “You startled me, and I could’ve killed you.”

“You would’ve tried.” She helped him get his goggles back on. They would keep the burning dust at bay.

“Thank ye san, Rigel-san.” He bowed appreciatively.

“At least you know your formal cordials,” she grunted. “That’ll help you when and if we reach Palatine.”

“Is that Palatine?” He pointed to the towering Citadel in the distance. A mishmash of sprawling settlements of ravagers, scrapers, and scavengers spanned outward from the dilapidated structure that had fallen into disrepair.

“No,” Rigel mused, “do you not see that side of the wall has collapsed in? I promise you that not one original occupant resides in there.” She tilted her head and said, "Maybe some survivors are on the outskirts, but they would already be of a senior generation. Maybe their offspring have forgotten their origins, reverted back into savagery, or worse, been enslaved by those in command, the ravagers.”

“A miserable way to live.” Jasil turned away and went into the shadowed area where the light had not reached. He started to make his way to the hidden entrance to the caverns below.

“You think so?” she kept asking behind him, erasing their tracks to avoid detection. “Not so different than the upper echelon in the Citadels having slaves of their own; the only difference is that they’re indentured servants.”

Jasil nodded as he watched Rigel close and lock the entrance behind them. “That practice was abolished. Now we call them plebs, and they have secular rights and privileges. But some have managed to advance up the rungs of social status, and a privileged few have even reached civilian status. It was the only decent way to replenish the population by endowing them with consensual rights. However, we still contend to filter out hereditary defects so that future generations will not suffer like our ancestors did before the world all went to hell.”

“So, did you and your son get any specific genetic treatments?” She tapped her shoulder to turn on the dusty LED light velcro-strapped around her upper arm. Together, they carefully ventured down the dusty stairway to the lower levels. Their footfalls reverberated off the corroded metal stairway, which echoed downward.

“Because of my parent’s status, I had received a few perks. But luckily, the council had decided to remove many genetic flaws inherited through my ancestors after I managed to rise to third class, a rare feat for a plebian. I never got the extended benefits, such as an extended life span. However, I still managed to get some perks, or we wouldn’t be taking this trip to Palatine.”

“So your son,” She noted, “is not genetically like you?”

“No,” Jasil said, shaking his head. “I had him redesigned before he grew to an embryonic state, and he never even had a mother.”

Rigel paused. “He wasn’t born the old-fashioned way?”

“Of course not. He was born in an artificial womb.” Jasil pointed to where his son was. “I needed a prodigy that would get me out of third class. If delivered to Palatine unscathed to be married to an upper-class citizen, I will be assigned a higher status with many perks.”

Rigel looked at Jasil as if she had seen him for the first time. He wasn’t just getting a suitable mate for his son; he was also getting the benefits of higher citizenship. He wanted to move up the only way a plebeian knew how: through relationships instead of brute force, an all too common practice in the outback.

She stopped as he approached his son. “Jasil-san, you might find that being an upper-class citizen isn’t as glamorous as you’ve been led to believe.” She looked down at her hands and said, "The world outside your Citadel has changed.”

Rigel bent low and smiled down on his son, then at her. “All I’ve ever wanted was a bigger quarter with a better view.” Then he fawned over his son by parting the young man’s hair. “Just a place big enough to accommodate three or even four people at once would be nice.”

“Maybe you should’ve been more like the scavengers or the ravagers; they at least get to live outdoors. They are, after all, truly freemen.”

Jasil wore a look of utter disgust. “They’re all just filthy irritants. Their life span is too short, and because of the state of the world they live in, they can’t...”

“Reproduce?” Rigel interjected. “Is that what you believe?”

“I suppose,” Jasil quickly barked, “why not?”

“Where did you get that notion—from some propaganda bulletin feed from the Quadrant?”

“Well, they tend to live a brief life span.”

Rigel crossed her arms and said, “I’ve lived, slept, and eaten among them. Many have managed to live into their senior years.” She then bent lower and said, “And they can reproduce plenty. I assure you.”

Jasil looked sick to his stomach and shook his head. “You mean the old-fashioned way? That’s disgusting.”

“Papa?” His son smiled as he looked up. “Are we there yet?” He stood and reached out to his father.

Jasil knelt down beside his son fondly and said, “Not yet, but soon. You’ll see. I promise you.” He looked up at his guide and gestured to her. “Rigel here will take us to Palatine. So you can meet with your betrothed, Tirzah.”

“Oh, papa,” the young man said, grasping his father’s arm. “I think I dreamt of her.”

“Did you now, Ebrima?” Jasil smiled down on his progeny and then looked up to see Rigel without her headgear. With her hair cut short and notable scars across a comely face, she contended to ignore his glance. All professional, he mused.

Rigel turned away and spoke over her shoulder. “Get your things packed up. We can’t linger here too much longer. The radiation levels down here are notably higher in this section.”

“Is it that bad?” Jasil motioned for his son to get packing.

She looked up from her Geiger counter watch and shrugged. “Not unless you want to stick around long enough to get sick and die from radiation poisoning. The shielding we have is not enough.”