The Sacrament

Northern Sink,

Twenty two levels below Ground

A bark of gunfire echoed through the corridors of the decrepit factory.

Then another.

Then, silence.

As Rina stood waiting patiently in the doorway, she could hear yelling, pleading and groans of pain. Eventually, men emerged limping from the smoke, hands raised in surrender. Her own crew in black stormcloaks followed behind them, weapons ready to discourage any last-minute heroics. The raid was a success.

Kai, her second cousin and trusted right-hand man, rounded the corner. ‘We got ‘em, Ri. We got ‘em all.’

Rina holstered her weapon, which immediately relieved all the tension from her shoulders.

‘Rain’s letting up,’ she noted, glancing out the window. Of course, by rain, she meant rainwash. No one born in the Sink had ever seen real rain before. Here, hundreds of metres below Ground Level, far beneath the towering megastacks that formed the Sky Level, they simply got whatever sloshed down from level to level, street to street. Now that the gunfire had ebbed, all that was left was the pattering of rainwash on polycrete.

‘I’ll take that as a good omen,’ Kai said, before patting her on the shoulder. ‘Come on, Ri, let’s get what we came for.’

Kai led her through more corridors where men lay bleeding and bullet casings littered the floor. Many of the rooms they passed were filled with drugs, weapons and other contraband, ready for moving upcity. They kept going until arriving at an open factory floor. A man knelt there, battered and bloodied, held at gunpoint by two of her own. Every inch of his gaunt, pale skin was scrawled with swirling tattoos. Everything aside from his black cybernetic arm.

Rina crouched before him. ‘Ironhand, you old bastard.’

‘Rina the Reaver,’ he coughed. ‘You should have called ahead. I would have popped open my finest blackbrew.’

She gazed down at him, unperturbed. ‘Two years ago, my father found something. Something he wasn’t supposed to. And for that, you had your crew gut him in the street like a common muckrat.’

‘Is there a question or are we just waxin’ poetical?’ he sneered. ‘Get on with it. Have your justice.’

‘Oh, you’ll pay, don’t you worry. But first, one question,’ she gave a frosty smile. ‘Where is the Sacrament?’

His eyes widened, all bravado evaporating in an instant. Rina drew herself close enough to smell his utopium-rancid breath. ‘Yes, we know what it’s called. We know it’s here. And we’re not leaving without it. ’

The man flinched, lips pursed.

‘You will tell me what my father died for. And if you don’t, we’ll carve it from you,’ Rina nodded to her cousin. Kai brandished a curved knife large enough to make a butcher blush.

‘The Sacrament’s not a thing, you drekking moron,’ Ironhand hissed through gritted teeth. ‘It’s a place.’

Rina drew her pistol and pressed its nozzle so far up his chin, the quivering man could probably taste the steel on his tongue.

‘Show me.’

The old gang boss reluctantly led her and Kai through a labyrinth of corridors plastered with graffiti. They passed rooms filled with weapons, drugs and other illicit merchandise, packed and ready for moving. Finally, they halted at a door.

It looked no different than the others, so dull and grey it was barely visible against the wall. He stood there, frozen in one last act of defiance.

Rina leaned over to her cousin. ‘For every further delay, take off a finger.’

The threat was enough to thaw the old man into movement. He reluctantly brandished a key and unlocked the door. Together, they all stepped through and were met with another unremarkable grey room. But unlike the others, this one was noticeably clean, completely devoid of graffiti, trash or even the scent of utopium.

Rainwash streamed through a large cavity in the ceiling, trickling down onto an unruly patch of grass that was growing in the centre of the room. Surrounding the patch were a few rugs, some pillows and a worn couch.

‘This is it,’ Ironhand said. ‘The Sacrament.’

‘What the hell is this?’ Rina snapped.

The man shook his head and pointed at the hole in the ceiling. ‘See for yourself.’

Rina rolled her eyes and walked up to it. The rainwash had slowed to a trickle.

‘Careful, Ri,’ her cousin whispered.

Rina inched close enough to see all the way through the hole. The cavity went far, far deeper than she’d expected. In distance, beyond the darkness and shadows and crisscrossing polycrete beams, was a glowing square, no larger than her thumb. In that square was a twinkling of light, peeking through pillowy, white haze.

‘Smoke?’

‘Clouds,’ Ironhand replied.

Rina gasped, stumbling back.

‘Like I said, the Sacrament is a place,’ the man said, his timbre deep with reverence. ‘The only place in the entire Sink where you can still see the Sky.’

‘The Sky…’ Rina’s hands trembled as her heart began to race. She glanced at Kai, who now stood transfixed. She looked back up, almost afraid that the hole would magically disappear.

Soon enough, the cotton shapes passed, and the light shone through with even greater radiance. Light like she’d never seen. She squinted, but refused to look away.

As her eyes began to adjust, she noticed a hint of blue. Not like the electric blue seen on the RealSky™ holo-projections, but a subdued blue. A serene blue. And it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

Most people born in the Sink had never seen the Sky before. Yet, against all odds, despite hundreds of levels of overlapping streets, skyways and megastacks jostling for position, the heavens had found a way to touch the darkest depths of the earth.

Rina reached out, seeing that single shaft of warm dance across her hand.

As warmth filled her face, Rina was startled to realise that she was crying. They all were. And in that moment, nothing mattered. Not the fighting. Not the scheming. Not even vengeance. Just peace beneath a sunlit sky.