Ratcatcher

I woke in a cramped space that was filled with an insistent screeching. Blinking open heavy eyelids, I found myself staring up at the grimy ceiling of a transport craft. A flashing yellow light filled the entire cabin. My body felt like a lead weight. I shifted, knocking over a pile of empty booze bottles. That explained the heaviness, I supposed.

The door to the transport slid open, and I found myself staring into the pinched face of my hunting partner, Vonn.

“Rise and shine, Ward,” he sang with a big shit-eating grin. God, I hated his face. Vonn had an unfriendly little mug and beady eyes that would ogle women and bots alike whenever he had the chance.

“Vonn,” I said curtly, forcing my body upright. The console on the dash continued to screech. I stood, teetering slightly, and made my way to the driver’s seat.

I flicked a switch, answering the hail with the customary: “Petrov Vermin Disposal. How may we assist you today?”

Vonn climbed into the transport as I waited for a response, chuckling at my dour tone. The street outside was blanketed in steam as the heated streets melted away the light snowfall that drifted down.

The console crackled, and a low voice came through: “I’m calling from Brunn Compound to request an immediate extermination service.”

“No shit,” I heard Vonn snicker in the background.

“Alright,” I sighed. “Petrov Vermin accepts your order. Operatives Ward Gill and Vonn Bleek responding. Send the coordinates, and we’ll be there.”

The call cut off and the console beeped as the onboard navigation system received the information.

“Brunn eh?” Vonn rolled the word in his mouth. “That’s an agri-corp.” He clamped his right hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Maybe you’ll finally meet a nice girl there, eh? Farmer’s daughter.”

I shook him off and grunted. “Would it kill you to watch your goddamn cybernetics, Vonn?”

He frowned and flexed his fingers, which responded with a stuttering mechanical movement. “Shit,” he spat. “I knew I should’ve sprung for a slicker model.”

“You’re acting like you can afford anything more than a Grade 3 mod,” I retorted, which drew a genuine laugh.

“There’s the bastard I know and love. It’s nice to know it takes more than six bottles of hooch to put you down.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll try harder next time.”

Vonn hesitated for a moment, then drew a couple smokes from within his heavy jacket and offered me one. I accepted, and waited as he lit it with an old Zippo.

I took a drag and felt the dry smoke crawl down my throat. There was a distinct sense of gloom in the van, and I decided to dispel it with the questionable decision of making conversation with Vonn. I suppose that was all I had to offer him for the smoke.

“You ever dream of rats?” I asked.

“Rats? Hell, only the one that cut off my goddamn hand. I dream of killing it every night, over and over. Stomping its little head into a red mush and pissing on what’s left.”

“That’s beautiful,” I said dryly. “You’re a fuckin’ poet, Vonn.”

“I try my best. You dream of killing them too?”

I paused. I didn’t dream at all.

“Sure. Fuck the rats, eh?”

“You said it, partner,” he drawled, climbing into the front of the transport. “Praetors should just burn the lot of them. Rats keep stealing anymore food and we’ll all starve.”

I strapped myself in next to him. The steam was beginning to clear, and I could just about make out the deep-night crowd in the neon-lit streets. Nothing but junkies, bot-riders and upper-crust thrill-seekers.

“You feel like driving today?” I asked Vonn, already knowing the answer. He was the laziest bastard I ever met, outside of killing rats and scoring women.

“Let the auto do the work,” he groaned. “Bigwigs didn’t teach the machines to think better for us to keep picking up the slack.”

Without protest, I turned on the auto-drive. The transport juddered as it lifted off the ground and the console came alive with readouts as I hailed dispatch to call in the job.

“Ward to dispatch. Ward to Petrov dispatch, come in. Unit 763 out for disposal. Client is Brunn, ETA 20 minutes.”

A tinny female voice came through. “Order accepted 763. Proceed.” There was a pause. And then: “Hi, Ward.”

“Hi Olga,” I responded with a smile. Olga Antonov joined up about five years after I did. She was a cute little thing with green hair and modded eyes that cycled through every colour of the rainbow. “How’s it going tonight?”

“It’s a slow one,” she said, and I could picture her smiling. “You’re only my third call.”

“Really? Cause you’re still my number one gal.”

A giggle through the channel. Olga was young and easy to please, and I flirted with her every now and then because it made me feel good about myself.

I knew what she wanted from me. I saw it in her eyes every time Vonn and I parked the transport back at HQ. But I wouldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t. It was tough to think about sex after being ankle deep in dead rats.

“Olga, my sweet little rusalka,” Vonn chimed in and I could hear the audible groan over the mic. “Have you considered my proposal for a date yet?”

“Fuck right off, Vonn,” she said airily. “763, confirm disposal status on site when ready. You are clear to proceed.”

“Roger that, dispatch,” I responded. “763 out.”

*

Vonn and I spent the rest of the ride in silence, save for the occasional rumble of the transport. We maintained a decent altitude and eventually, I could see Brunn Compound in the distance.

Large, low buildings rose from the earth, bathed in floodlights. They were clustered around a central skyscraper that pierced the dark clouds, illuminated in green light.

The transport set down on an external runway with a thud and the engine shut off.

Vonn had fallen asleep, so I woke him up with a kick to the shins and endured the cussing that followed. He flipped me double birds before jumping out.

I hammered on the right side of the transport and the metal panelling slid open to reveal our protective suits and weapons. Like most ratcatchers, Vonn and I had been bio-modded before being accepted for the job. I stood an easy six-ten on a normal day, but the bulk of the suit pushed me past seven feet.

As I pulled the oversized helmet over my head, the suit sealed itself with a hiss and my vision turned red as the visual filters synced up with my own modded eyes.

I tapped a panel on my right glove and opened a comms line. “Petrov dispatch, 763 is on-site. Ready to execute order.”

“763 please proceed,” Olga said. “And good luck, Ward.”

“What about me?” Vonn asked as he joined the channel, but I terminated the dispatch link before he could mouth off anything else.

“Get the gear,” I told him, as a low rumble down the runway caught my attention. “The welcome wagon’s here.”

Another transport was heading towards us – nothing more than an empty frame with guardrails mounted on anti-gravs.

We gave our kit a brief once-over as it drew closer. Both Vonn and I were armed with standard-issue rapid-fire pulse rifles, dubbed “roasters” by most ratcatchers. On top of that, we each carried a non-lethal dispersal unit mounted on a shoulder harness.

As the incoming transport came to a halt, a figure leaped off. He had a craggy face and visual mods gave him three pairs of eyes. When smiled, all his teeth were chrome. He wore green work clothes, emblazoned with words: Brunn Intelligent Food Solutions.

“Ratcatchers. Name’s Gib. You certainly took your time.” He spoke in a lazy Southern drawl. “Get on board. We should hurry.”

Vonn turned his head to look at me, shrugged and obeyed. I followed suit, and almost lost my balance as we began to glide into the maze of warehouses. The transport brought us to the centre of the complex and we stopped at a nondescript building that looked a little worse for wear than the rest. Gib hopped lightly off the platform.

“We’ve had a few rat problems over the years,” he said, looking up at the warehouse. “Most were dealt with internally. But this one’s a little beyond our scope.”

“How did they get in?” I asked.

““There’s a network of old tunnels that run beneath the compound. Management has drones actively patrolling, but the rats keep getting past them. And then yesterday, we found two units downed in the lower levels.”

Gib gestured and the door to the building slid open. Recessed lights flickered on to reveal rows of crates, stacked on top of one another.

“If you’ll follow me,” he said, striding forward. We were led to the dark corner of the building, where several crates were upended and busted open. Scattered about were a few packages of freeze-dried goodies. I spotted corn, carrots and what appeared to be a lobster.

“Actual food,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, ignoring the sudden rumble in my stomach. “I hear it gives nutrient bars a run for their money. How the hell did the rats get into biometric storage crates?”

“Management’s concerned that we might be dealing with a benefactor. The drones were taken down with EMP bursts.”

“Well, well,” Von grunted. “The only thing worse than a rat is a rat sympathizer.”

“Doesn’t seem like the cleanest break-in,” I said, activating the scanning programme in my visor. “Shouldn’t be too hard to track them down.”

The scan immediately picked up a bio-trail, highlighted in green, winding its way around the crates and snaking off deeper into the warehouse.

“This is where we take over,” I told Gib. “Expect a confirmed extermination within an hour.”

“You guys do your thing. I’ll wait out here.”

He reached out for a handshake and I decided to oblige, briefly. Then I synced my scanner with Vonn and we followed the trail to its endpoint; a wide hatch in the south-eastern quadrant marked for sewage.

“It’s a shit tunnel, isn’t it? I hate the damn shit tunnels. Why couldn’t this be a maintenance hatch?” Vonn swore a little more while I reached down and examined the hatch. The control panel next to it had been fried.

“Dispatch,” I called out. “I need remote access to a sewage hatch. Titan City, Brunn Compound. Serial number E2-990304.”

“Happy to help 736,” Olga’s voice crackled in. “Find those rats yet?”

“We’re getting there,” I grunted. “Client thinks there might be a benefactor at play here. Log that on the case file, would you? We might be able to score a bonus.”

“A rat lover? Seems like we’ve been seeing more of those.”

“Yes, we have, dispatch.”

I heard a soft clunk as the hatch slid open, revealing a ladder than descended into darkness.

We turned on our headlamps and I followed Vonn down. The rungs of the ladder were moist and slippery beneath my gloves. I heard him reach the bottom with a damp splash, and soon enough, my boots sank into ankle-deep filth.

The tunnel was narrow, and its in-built strips of lighting were caked in grime.

“Vonn, you still seeing this bio-trail?” I asked. My visor showed a steady, broadening trail of green that led deeper into the gloom ahead.

“Positive visual on bio-trail. Taking point.” He twisted a small dial on his pulse rifle and the weapon hummed to life. “Weapons hot.”

“I’ll watch our six,” I grunted, and powered on my own rifle. We tread a cautious path down the tunnel, trying to ignore the stink that got in past the filters of our helmets. Every hundred or so feet, I fastened a marker to the tunnel wall, leaving a trail of yellow light.

After a few minutes, Vonn held up an arm. “Starting to see some debris in the water,” he grunted, turning up the brightness on his headlamp. “We’ve definitely got rats here.”

I looked down at the water and noticed the signs. Bones. Too small to be human, but definitely food waste. Scraps of fabric. Bits and bobs of plastic and metal. Something floated past my boot and I picked it up. It was a ragdoll, evidently home-made. This one had the body of a person and – surprise, surprise – the head of a rat.

“You collecting souvenirs now, Ward?”

I dropped the doll. “Shut up. Bio-trail’s starting to fade. We should hurry.”

“I’m not the one who stopped,” he grunted and we shouldered on. The trail ended at a large cistern, at least fifty feet across, piled high with trash. Amidst the junk, smaller arches indicated that the tunnel split three ways further in.

“Great,” Vonn sighed. “What now?”

“Something doesn’t feel right,” I murmured. “I’ll do another scan. See if we can pick up a new trail.”

“Sounds like a good way to waste time.” He sloshed his way across the cistern to the first tunnel, kicking piles of trash out of the way. And then I heard it. A soft click.

Suddenly my visor went dark and comms scrambled. Something slammed into me from behind and I fell face first in the water. And then there were dozens of things, climbing on my back, piling on. I heard screaming. It was Vonn.

Fucking rats. They tore at my suit, hammering into me, biting and scratching. I felt something sharp stab into my back and swore. If it wasn’t for the visor, I would’ve been choking on sewage.

And then there was a loud bang and the air suddenly smelled like chemicals. The rats on my back scurried off and I could hear them choking and wheezing. Vonn must’ve set off a dispersal round. I rose to my feet and ripped my helmet off, eyes stinging from the gas.

Rats flooded the cistern, erupting from the smaller tunnels. I couldn’t see Vonn anywhere. One leaped at me, eyes wild and furious. I kicked it aside and began firing my pulse rifle. The rats had the element of surprise, but they were weak. Bolts of blue energy flew across the room and I began to smell the stink of burning flesh.

Even without the targeting system from my visor, I took them down easily. The mass was starting to scatter, and the ground at my feet was already littered with carcasses.

I began herding them around the cistern, making sure none could escape back into the tunnels. I rounded a mound of trash and felt my heart drop. Vonn was down and a hooded figure had him pinned, slashing away at his suit with a pair of blades.

“Get off him you bastard!” I roared and fired a volley of shots. Two of them hit my target dead centre and the figure leaped off with a somersault that screamed bio-mods.

I sprinted towards Vonn and hauled him to his feet. He was a little shaky and the visor on his helmet was cracked. He took it off and I saw there was blood running down his face.

“You’re slowing down a little, Vonn. I never thought you’d let a rat-lover get the jump on you,” I grinned.

“Fuck you, Ward,” he spat, but managed a toothy grin. We turned around to face our opponent, who stood unmoving. The rats were beginning to cluster around their saviour. Up close, they seemed filthier than ever. Some stared at us with open hostility, some of them wept, but most just stood still. Waiting.

“Stand down,” I called out, addressing the newcomer. “We don’t need anyone getting in the way. Leave now, and maybe the Praetors don’t need to get involved.”

A low chuckle. I frowned. Most people tended to cower before a suited up, bio-modded ratcatcher.

“You think I’d be down here with nothing but a couple swords if I was scared of Praetors?” The voice that came from beneath the hood was flat, but unmistakably female. Then she threw the hood back and a chill ran down my spine.

The lady beneath was bald, with an intricate crown of crimson tattoos that shifted on her scalp. A Praetor’s Mark.

Her right eye was modded, along with her lower jaw. Her left eye, still very much flesh and blood, winked at me.

“I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Praetor Captain Clara Grishom Briggman. Well, ex-Praetor.”

Vonn lowered his weapon. “This…this is a joke, right? There’s no way a…a Praetor would be down here with the rats.”

Clare turned and gestured at the rats standing around her. They flinched in fear. “Only PlanetGov, topsiders, and heartless bastards like you call them rats.”

Vonn started to back away, but I held my ground. “I don’t care who you are. Population laws are clear. They need to go.”

“You want to blame someone?” Clara asked, tilting her head. “Blame the cloning corps that dump stock into the sewers like trash.”

I bristled slightly. “Look at these things.” I reached down and picked up a rat carcass from the ground. This one was twisted, with pale blonde hair and green eyes. “They’re not right. They’re not human.”

“They’re no less human than you and me.” There was a blur of movement, and Clara was suddenly holding a blade to Vonn’s neck.

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy now,” he murmured.

“Now, this can go one of two ways. First, you turn around and leave. Never come back. And I let you live.”

I raised my rifle. “And what’s Plan B?”

Clara’s voice turned cold. “I kill both of you where you stand, and feed you to my friends. Trust me, they’re pretty hungry.”

I hesitated, and she looked me in the eyes.

“I’m willing to die down here for what I believe in. What about you, ratcatcher?”