The Undercity was far less prosperous than the fabulously wealthy upper tiers of the city, an area known as the ‘Clouds’. Nor was it lost on anyone that the economic activity in the Undercity was what made the luxury of the Clouds possible, almost as if wealth were lighter than air. Most of those who lived in the Clouds had never been down to the Undercity, and the few that had didn’t care to return.
Gabriel had been down there many times.
* * *
The mag-train pulled into the central transport hub in the Ellipsis Commercial Tower. The enormous, shimmering monument of steel and glass was a marvel of engineering, reaching over a kilometre into the sky with foundations that reached at least that far underground. As well as one of the biggest mag-train stations in the city, it also housed the city’s main financial hub as well as the homes of most of its elite.
The doors opened and the passengers poured out onto the platform, dispersing down the various corridors and elevators of the enormous station. Heedless of his fellow passengers, Gabriel strode straight down the middle towards the main elevator, the crowds parting before him like a shoal of frightened fish.
Taking the elevator up to the top floor, Gabriel stepped out into the entrance hall of an exclusive, private club, perched at the top of the tower like a nest of luxury. An elaborate water feature, forged in the shape of a pair of mythical sea monsters, dominated the cavernous lobby. White and gold support beams arched over the entire complex, intertwining like the branches of a bird’s nest, with the natural light of the local star shining down through the glass in between the branching beams.
The super-elite came and went with their Human and android attendants, dressed in the latest and gaudiest fashions. Some of them paused briefly to stare at the intimidating figure marching down the hall towards the reception desk as if he belonged there. Gabriel knew how out of place he looked, and he didn’t care.
The Human receptionist was looking down at his desk, so Gabriel snapped his fingers to get his attention. The receptionist looked up, then flinched in shock.
“Um…only club members and their guests are allowed to pass beyond this point…sir.” the receptionist stammered.
“I am a guest.” Gabriel replied with an impatient scowl. “Scan me.”
The receptionist raised a trembling hand, pausing uncertainly between activating the biometric scanner or pressing the button under his desk.
“If you alert security, you’ll be dead before they can get here.” Gabriel said to the man dangerously, “now stop wasting my time and scan me.”
The receptionist did as he was ordered and activated the biometric scanner, flash-scanning Gabriel’s eyes and bringing up a profile on the receptionist’s computer screen. The receptionist narrowed his eyes as the system denied him access to Gabriel’s biographical information, then he turned pale when he saw why.
“Am I cleared to enter?” Gabriel asked menacingly.
“Yes…please go in.” the terrified receptionist replied, buzzing open the doors.
Gabriel marched through the doors into Club Ellipsis without another word.
The receptionist must have been brand new to the job. Normally, non-member guests had to be screened before being allowed in – for reasons having less to do with security and more to do with maintaining the club’s ‘exclusiveness’ – but anyone else at the desk would have known to wave Gabriel straight in after seeing the uniform.
Come to think of it, why have a Human manning the reception desk at all? An android could handle the job with far more efficiency and courtesy than that dolt. Perhaps the club wanted to guarantee employment for a member’s son or grandson or nephew, or perhaps having an actual Human at the front desk enhanced the club’s prestige by providing a ‘Human’ touch. Or maybe it was both.
Club Ellipsis itself was an extravagant, multi-level palace in the Clouds, complete with a bar and restaurant as well as numerous open and private booths with crystalline-glass tables and chairs. Antigravity platters flitted back and forth overhead with food, drink, and stimulants to serve the guests and their scantily-clad ‘companions’.
The sheer decadence on display was eye watering. The carpet was blood red – no doubt woven from bioengineered fur – and every wall was covered with pieces of expensive art. Some of the paintings and sculpture had clearly required genuine skill to produce, but others were vapid ego-statements by the artist – one of these pieces of ‘art’ was just a blank canvass with the artist’s signature on it.
How original.
The most extravagant piece of decoration, however, was suspended from the ceiling: an actual chandelier made from thousands of custom-forged diamonds suspended from a carefully manufactured frame with innumerable arms. Each diamond had been polished to a smooth finish, and refracted the sunlight out across the club in a kaleidoscope of rainbow colours. It must have cost a fortune.
Gabriel ignored everyone and everything, moving with purpose past the tables and private booths. The tables’ decadently dressed occupants paused their frivolous conversation to gawp at the menacing-looking military officer, this visibly out-of-place interloper, marching through their private club.
Out of the corners of his eyes, Gabriel could see their expressions – ranging from curiosity to alarm, and everything in between – frozen on their stupid faces. But no one dared cause a fuss, let alone call security or the staff, and Gabriel ascended the stairs to the next level unmolested. He approached booth 39 and waved his hand across the scanner to open the door, walking straight into an argument.
“You slippery bitch!” one booth occupant bellowed as Gabriel entered.
The shouter was a stout man dressed in a smart blue suit with a frilled, white shirt and collar. He had a bushy black moustache and his finely combed, dark hair was styled with parallel streaks of white dye. His angry expression remained frozen on his face as he turned around to see a uniformed soldier walking into the booth.
“Gabriel!” the other booth occupant beamed, “good of you to join us, have a seat.”
The angry shouter turned back to face the ‘slippery bitch’, his anger now tinged with a mixture of outrage and disbelief.
“Jezebel…” the shouter’s bellowing voice had been reduced to a shocked murmur, as if she had just committed some unforgiveable faux pas, “I would have thought even you recognised that politics and security don’t mix.”
“Politics and security?” Jezebel scoffed derisively, “I thought we were just talking about business, your failing business, to be exact. And, by the way, it’s ‘Madam Jezebel’ to you, Mr Darius. We’re not that friendly.”
Mr Darius turned on his heel and confronted Gabriel, his eyes narrowed to suspicious beads. It was a brave thing to do, considering that Gabriel stood a head taller than he did. Gabriel could smell men’s perfume on the man, an overpowering scent of tropical flowers that made him want to gag.
“Gabriel, was it?” Darius asked, employing the tone of a lord disciplining a servant.
“Colonel.” Gabriel replied flatly, not inclined to give away his full name.
“How in Terra’s name did you get into Club Ellipsis?” Darius demanded imperiously.
“Through the front door.” Was the cool reply.
“Ah,” Darius sneered, disliking the sarcastic nature of the response, “so if I were to have a word with your commanding officer–”
Darius never got to the end of his sentence as Gabriel wrapped his fingers around the man’s neck, lifting him clear off the ground with one arm and squeezing the rest of his threat out of his throat in the form of a choking noise.
Darius struggled and gasped, tugging in vain at the ironclad grip on his throat. His previously narrow eyes were now bulging with surprise and panic, and his cheeks were turning red with effort as he hyperventilated.