With a sigh, I push back from my desk and get to my feet. Mentally, I start to review the repair, preparing my mindset. This will not be an especially difficult repair. It is the location that will make this different: the sensor is far down in an access tunnel, reachable only through subterranean levels below the sub-city itself. And those tunnels are narrow, claustrophobic crawl spaces. It is a good thing I am built rail thin and Kellen is still a youth.

I do not actually have a lot of preparation I need to do for this job. Jakara will have everything I need in the tool kit, along with a few things no one is aware I do not actually need. Like a respirator, for instance. And I feel no need to disabuse anyone of that notion. The less they realize the truth, the easier time I have of it. I enjoy being overlooked as average. It does not happen usually. Kellen will know the truth by the time this repair is complete, but I can order him to keep silent. He fears me more than he fears his own sire.

Instead, I leave my office and make my way to the break room. There is an assortment of vending machines there, and I anticipate hunger to intrude at some point while we are in the tunnels. None of it is as good as what Meshani makes, but it will do in a pinch. And my meal from home will be waiting still when I return.

I decide upon sandwiches. They are easy to transport in their sealed plastic containers, and I happen to know that the machine was freshly serviced this morning. Kellen can have the cavy club. Guinea pigs and rabbits are a common meat source now, along with smaller birds, as they breed well and are easy to keep. Larger animals are rare, and beef is almost unheard of. For myself, I decide on chicken and goat cheese. It is a rare treat to have cheese, so these will sell out quickly despite the exorbitant price. Sheep and goats are difficult to supply with enough feed to get them to grow and produce. Here in Londinium, hydroponics are the only way we can get crops other than fungus, so trade has become critical to our existence. Many of the early survivors simply had to make do with new and creative methods for using moss and vermin for all their nutritional needs. 

I withdraw the sandwiches and make my way to the equipping room to find Kellen and pick up my tool kit. Jakara has fitted him with a safety harness over his jumpsuit, and she is diligently checking the straps as I enter. He looks eager, if cautious, and I note his emotional control is improving even in the few days he has worked for IO. He still has a vast store of emotion. But it is not as unfettered as once it was. Good.

I tuck the sandwiches into the top of the tool kit and briefly review the contents. It seems to be in order for the most part. Jakara knows to add in the three Denzai make tools I never go without, but I still quickly ensure they are present. 

The first is a small tube of about 3" in length. Inside are several lengths of monofilament wire, strung at odd angles. I blow into it, listening to the wires hum, checking their tuning and finding it impeccable. It is carefully ambivalent to everything around it. I replace it into the kit gently.

Second is a device that appears to be a stiff bristle paint brush. It tries to stick to my hand as I pick it up out of the bag, though no adhesive is in evidence upon it. I scowl at it and feel it cringe away from the irritation. Good. Gently, I run my thumb across the bristle end. The device shivers in my grip. As I return it to the bag, I burble at it softly with a few words in Denzani to soothe it into releasing from my fingers. It obliges and settles into obeisance.

The third item appears to be a rod of solid metal, about the length of my forearm, as big around as my pinkie finger at the thickest end and tapering to the thickness of a human hair. I am not entirely certain what it is made of, only that it is inflexible and indestructible. And I know it wants to kill me. I can feel it seething, a fanatical hatred born of obsession and tempered with revenge. There is no reason for it and it is nothing against me personally. The device was simply made to be this way. I take a certain amount of pleasure in considering ways I could abuse this tool as I return it to an outside pocket of the kit, knowing it will never fail or break. I have to keep it carefully separated from some of the other devices, lest it ruin their calibration.

I secure the kit shut and pick it up from the workbench. Turning, I find Kellen waiting attentively. “Ready?” I inquire, and he gives me an excited nod. “Good. We are walking to Station Two. I hope you are not claustrophobic; the tunnels are not meant for anyone much bigger than myself and walking will limber us both up for climbing down into them. As usual, if I tell you to do something, obey immediately and I will explain when I am able. You will have the only light source, so mind you do not blind me.” I offer him a sly grin. “I think you will find this very interesting,” I add cryptically, watching his excitement spike. Yellow threads stitch themselves into his emotions and try to tie themselves into knots. It is almost enjoyable to watch.

I stride toward the door and gesture for Kellen to follow. Jakara is just outside, and falls into step as I head out. “You are in charge while I am out, Jakara. Make sure the diagnostics are run on the water systems in Five and have those reports on my desk by end of shift. Also, have Frederick change out the lighting in the waste maintenance bay in Seven. I will be out of contact for the duration of this sensor replacement, so use your best judgement if anything comes up.”

“Yes, sir.” It is the expected answer, in the expected tone of voice. I can count on Jakara to keep stability while I am indisposed. It is reassuring to have that kind of confidence. I give her a nod of approval, which she also takes as dismissal. She veers off to do her duty as I stride out the exit and into the walkways of the sub-city.

I walk briskly, and Kellen lengthens his stride to keep pace. We weave around the remnants of the late night crowds of the sub-city, those few people that have just finished working and are on their way home for an early breakfast or are starting toward their early morning shift. Most keep their heads down in order to avoid interacting with anyone else. One scooter motors past, the operator carefully maneuvering down the open center of the walkway. Most others hug the walls to give the motorist more space, as though they are afraid of the scooter running them down. But I walk boldly onward; there is plenty of room and I am in no danger of being hit. Others instinctively give way before me, though they are not conscious of doing so. I find it amusing. 

Youngsters also go darting past every now and again, runners on errands with messages to deliver. They mostly keep to the center channel as well, though one does weave across the flow of pedestrian traffic just ahead of me as they dart into a shop door on their business. I hear a couple of them shout a quick greeting to Kellen as they run past, and he calls back cheerfully before they pass out of earshot.

The walk to Station Two takes about 20 minutes. There are only three people in evidence when I breeze through into the main air systems chamber. Nemarra and Ander are engaged with replacing a section of paneling, and I do not disturb their work. The third person, Setallin, moves to join Kellen and I as we make our way to the tunnel access.

“Hey, boss. Replacement sensor.” He holds out a small envelope, and I pluck it from his fingers without stopping. “You need anything from me?”

“Check Kellen’s tie in on the lines before we go in and give him the quick version of the safety briefing for tunnel work. Full respirator checks. Mine is in the bag; make sure filters are fresh. Explain it to Kellen, so he can be responsible for it next time.”

“Got it, boss.” We stop inside a small room. A trio of pegs are driven into the wall near a small square door set on one side at floor level. Nearby, a cabinet squats like a toad, the shelves holding an assortment of safety gear. Several steel rings are secured to the wall and floor around the door. I leave Setallin to brief Kellen as I set my tool kit down near the cabinet. The envelope with the sensor inside gets tucked into an end pocket and zipped shut for safety. 

For a long moment, I simply stare at that door. It feels...inviting. Behind it lies a warren of access tunnels, dark crawl spaces that descend into the bowels of the earth. There have been many times when I simply wanted to disappear into those tunnels and never return. It has been a while since that feeling was strong, though. Meshani has given me a reason to return to society of late, and I smile at the thought of his welcoming embrace. But still, the darkness has ever been my friend and welcomed me with an embrace of its own upon my soul. If anything were to ever happen to me, Meshani knows that it is my wish to be given to the depths of the earth and darkness instead of the standard cremation given to the populace.

I turn from that door, inwardly promising it that I will be there soon. Instead, I strip my tunic off over my head and hang it on one of the pegs. My shoes get left on top of the cabinet. Drawing a length of rope from the supplies, I tie it off with practiced motions to one of the floor rings. With a quick look, I note that Setallin is showing Kellen the respirator check procedures. I nod to myself and turn back to the door. 

The hatch is a simple wooden affair affixed to the wall by a pair of hinges at the top, perhaps three feet square. A handle at the bottom twists to engage or disengage the locking bars on the reverse side. I allow myself a flash of anticipation as I reach out for the handle. A quick counterclockwise rotation disengages the mechanism, and I lift the door clear. It secures into an open position by a hook on the inside which I engage. And then I sit in the entrance of the tunnel, my legs hanging off the lip. 

“Descent order, boss?” Setallin’s question interrupts my reverie and I shove away a scowl before I answer him. 

“Tool kit first. Then me. Kellen last, so I can catch him if he slips. And if you nag me about safety gear, I will throw you in head first.” Perhaps I do not have my irritation as controlled as I thought I did. Oh well. 

Setallin chuckles. He is one of the few technicians in IO that is jovial with me. Most likely because he is old enough to have worked for Grandy directly before my sire took over as senior technician. “Wouldn't dream of it, boss. You don't sign my payroll, anyway. If you want to break your damn fool neck, that's your business. Besides, I'd be more afraid of your partner opening up my throat next time I go for a shave.”

I pause at that comment, and my eyebrows try to climb into my hairline. “I will have to tell Meshani you said that,” I reply with an amused snort. “He will be entertained at having such a reputation.”

“Boss, we draw straws every time we have to send someone to tell him you're going to be late coming home, because the look of disappointment he turns on us is terrifying. Most of us can only wish we had someone that looked at us the way your fella looks at you.” I turn and look at Setallin, one eyebrow cocked in skepticism, but he is telling the absolute truth. I cannot see even a shred of falsehood upon him. There are a few spikes of humor, but he utterly believes his words. The faintest hint of envy weaves around the sentiments. I feel my other eyebrow join its fellow up near my hairline.

“Well, then it is a good thing I agreed to marry him.” I let that truth drop into the mix and watch Setallin’s response with smugness.

“Oh shit! Boss, that's great! Wait ‘til the crews hear about this, though. There's gonna be bribery to get rid of the short straw after this!” He laughs, delight and excitement in his expression. It curls around his face and heart, and I cannot help but smile in smug contentment. 

“That is what the runners are for in the first place. At any rate, be the bearer of good news later. For now, I would like to get this sensor replaced.”

“You got it, boss!” Setallin replaces the respirator in my tool kit, then secures it shut and hands it to me. I deftly tie the loose end of the rope to the handles and lower it down the tunnel shaft. 

As I work, I give instructions over my shoulder. “Kellen, if you feel your skin begin to itch at any time, notify me immediately. If your eyes begin to water or your nose to run, put your respirator on at once. Do not wait for an order from me. Setallin will help you tie in to the safety equipment here, but pay close attention so you can do it on your own afterward. I will anchor the belaying rope at the other end once I have untied the tool kit, so wait for my call to begin climbing down. It is not a vertical descent, but the slope is significant enough to require caution. Clear?”

“As glass, Darkwalker.” He is excited, but my initial lessons remain foremost in his mind it seems. I can read no willful disobedience in him. There is uncertainty swirling in corkscrews occasionally, though, so I suspect he has some question he is uncertain if he should speak up about. 

“Ask me at the bottom,” I tell him cryptically, then turn and grasp the guide ropes inside the descent tunnel. Before he can reply, I swing myself into the chute and begin my controlled slide down into the waiting abyss.