There was movement inside nearby, she could hear heels clicking towards her direction. It was the Scrap doctor, no doubt. There was a brief pause, she saw her shadow stand behind the semi-translucent glass. The slide door of the clinic, made an irritating hiss. As pressurized air escaped it. She barely set foot inside before she was staring at the iron barrel of a gun again.
Doctor Kara’s hands weren’t steady. Callia watched her knuckles tighten around the grip of the gun–they were too panicky. She had no control over it, her trigger discipline nonexistent. She seemed spooked, and Callia doubted it was her presence. The doctor’s swollen eyes told a different tale.
“Oh, wow, look at that. Somehow, you’re still alive. I’ll pretend to be surprised.” She widened the distance between her legs. Yet came closer. “I had a feeling you would come crawling back.”
Callia lowered her smile. “Somehow, I made it one piece, but–”
“Stop,” the doc hisses. “I thought I told you not to come back, unless you brought me my creds.”
Doctor Kara gazed down at her, there was hesitation in her blue eyes, part desperation. She was built like a Greek goddess, a model, and yet somehow was some kind of illicit secondhand death doctor. Was her life path chosen by need or necessity. Callia could only wonder.
The amnesiac raised her right hand slowly, the other settling on her aching stomach, where the gun wound resided. “Look, I’ve got no creds, no trade, no reason you should help me. But the system is forcing me into a tough spot, you’re the only one that can help.”
The words tasted like bitter soup. She hated using them. She hated begging. Furthermore, she didn’t want to do this, but fate brought her here.
“Were you actually listening to me? Actually, don’t answer that. It seems more than your brain suffered damage from your descent.” The doctor started scowling at her. “So…the system has formally started speaking with you. Huh. ”
Callia nodded. “It’s putting me in a tough spot, I have no one to rely on. I’d rather not go down a path of crime. And I need a place to stay.”
Kara sighed. She swallowed, closed her eyes. Then scrutinized the mismatched apparel Callia was wearing. Her face contorted in disgust. Her hands itched, and she locked the safety of the pistol before shoving it into the pocket of her coat.
“It just so happens, I have a problem that needs dealing with. I can’t promise you a place to stay. However, if you’re going to keep showing up, perhaps I’ll find you a cage to sleep in. That way, you might not lash out again.” She mocked.
Callia’s felt a brief rush of joy as her face lit up. “It's probably better than sleeping on a rooftop, I wouldn’t mind being put on a leash, if it meant my belly was full.”
“Pathetic, honestly.”
The doctor leaned forward, grabbed Callia like she was a lost dog.
“Hey!”
Dragging her inside, she closed the slide doors of the sterile clinic. Callia’s eyes darted all over, as she was pulled and plucked around. Every part of the interior was painted in a flat pale blue. Fluorescent lights illuminated the room. The furniture, the decorations, all utilitarian, made for public appeal.
“Follow me,” Kara’s gaze flicked across the hallway and into one of the back rooms. Her face looked like it was carrying some unbearable weight–there were signs of guilt, her nerves were on edge; she had bigger problems than Callia’s bum butt.
She held her hand over the scanner, it beeped. Callia followed the scrap doctor inside the locked room. There, on a spartan bed, lay a dead man. His eyes, almost completely replaced by several mechanical eye sets. His mouth hung open. The smell of burnt human flesh settled in her nose.
“I barely know you, but I never took you for a serial killer?” Callia teased.
“Well, I didn’t,” The doctor frowned. “His cybernetics fucked with the surgery, it’s likely he was bugged before I picked him up. He didn’t make it. Now I’m suffering with the aftermath.”
It was clear to Callia what the issue was. It was her concern now.
“You want me to do something about it? Dumb old me that just got here.”
“I can’t have a dead body here, I’ll lose reputation, start catching unnecessary attention, authorities might shut down the clinic, strip me of my license. Can’t hire a merc; funds are spread too thin. They’ll ask too much, and any dog on the street will out me for a single credit.”
Callia pushed past her, her savior and former adversary. The closer she got to the body, the less it smelled like scorched flesh. Burnt copper, burnt plastic, and rotten metal. It was unpleasant.
Get rid of it. 400 creds. And I’ll think about canceling your debt. Can’t help you with anything until I can trust you.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Take it where? I have no sense of direction; I’m not familiar with the place.”
“Since you’re lacking half your brain, know that I only need a body to listen to my instructions. The big scrapyard, same place I found you, common dumping ground for these types. Just drop him there and leave him to rot.”
The amnesiac started swaying, and shaking her head. She was supposed to move a dead body in her state, it was a ridiculous preposition. Her stomach still ached.
“I can’t drag a corpse across the district. It’s broad daylight!”
“There is a way, if you’re willing to listen!” the doc snapped, slamming her hands on the bed. “You think I want this problem?”
“N-no, clearly not.” Callia jumped slightly backwards, She hadn’t expected a sudden outburst.
“Honestly, this was your fault, had you not spooked Marcus, I’d have operated with my partner, but you scared him off for the day.”
So now it was her fault, brilliant.
Callia inspected the dead man, he looked no older than forty, every part of his body had some cybernetic edge to it. Wires ran up through it’s body, like metallic tattoos.
“So why can’t you just, melt him in acid or flush him down the drain? Sell the body to some sketchy black market?
“Because drains and sewage lines are monitored in real time by the authorities. You think I can just dump whatever inside, there's particle sensors stuffed in there; they will find out. Black markets? It’s like touching a poisonous plant.” she stuffed her hands in her lab pockets
“So, what will it be, Ka-lee-a?”
Callia groaned. “I’m sorry this is so sudden. And I just ate, too. It’s disgusting.”
“Nothing is given freely. You lash out after I saved your life, then you show up after I tell you not to come back without my credits.”
SYSTEM ALERT: OPTIONAL QUEST – "WASTE MANAGEMENT"
Time Limit: 2 Hours
Quest Giver:Objective:
Reward:Failure Consequence:
The screen flickered intrusively in her face.
This would be her third quest, her third quest that would be unfulfilled. She didn’t have much of a choice, did she? Still, disposing of a corpse did not sit right with her, but she was in a tight spot.
“Before I accept, I have some questions.” she inquired.
Doctor Kara sighed, ran her hands across her face, then covered her nose. “Fine, two questions ask away.”
“The system, can you briefly summarize what it is and why I should care. A quick one-liner will do as well.”
“It’s simple really. The system is the governing body of this world. Nobody knows where exactly it came from, just that a hundred years ago, with cunning and subterfuge, it took this world from the ASFS. Declared itself as overlord, kicked out and eliminated everything it deemed a threat. The whole state of this world is one large experiment to it, a living simulation.” she held her hand over her mouth. “And I’m going to stop there. I want this body gone. ASAP.”
ASFS. The alignment of the abbreviation, rung several bells in her head. “Wait, the ASFS?”
“The Alliance of Sol Federated Systems or what is collectively referred to as humanity, they reside out there among the stars. We no longer have direct contact, as per the system's rulings, but we started out as the 77th human colony. Most of the information we get nowadays comes from alien wanderers who have the unfortunate habit of landing on the planet.”
Nope. Blank, she could recall no such thing, only that it was familiar. Aliens. Callia’s mind instantly went to Young woman she found selling flowers. She seemed human enough, a bit blue, xeno-like. More questions reserved for later.
“Alright, I’d prefer it if you could get started right away—”
“Wait, one more question. I’m classless, the system is pushing me to take…something.”
The doctor looked uncomfortable. “You’re still classless? I’d have thought you’d take something already. That’s a walking death sentence. You stay that way, you’ll get chewed up and spit out. I have confidence, with my expertise and the advancement of my class, I could make quick work of you.”
“Then why not deal with the body yourself.” The amnesiac frowned, scrutinizing the corpse.
“I’m busy, I have a client in an hour. Which is why I locked this door.”
A client, it would explain her hesitation.
“Also, how am I supposed to know these things? If no one shows me the ropes?”
“Have you tried, inquiring the system?”
Callia shifted, and the System started harassing her again, bombarding her with strange class options. The system wasn’t just pushing her toward class selection; it was giving her horrible suggestions.
[TP THRESHOLD EXCEEDED]
[CLASS SELECTION REQUIRED: RECOMMENDED DEADLINE – IMMEDIATE]
- [RECOMMENDED CLASS: STREET JANITOR]
- [RECOMMENDED CLASS: CORPSE DISPOSAL TECHNICIAN]
- [RECOMMENDED CLASS: GRAVE ROBBER]
- [RECOMMENDED CLASS: CORPSE DISPOSAL TECHNICIAN]
“It’s been giving me weird options all morning. I don’t want to be a street janitor.”
The doctor let out a stifled laugh.
“You need to figure it out—soon. Especially since you look like you killed someone for the clothing you’re wearing. Who knows, becoming a janitor may be therapeutic to a brain-damaged lunatic such as yourself.”
“I in fact did not kill someone, he attacked me first, I was merciful enough to let him off with a beating.” Callia gritted her teeth.
If it weren’t for the urgency and a proper understanding of what she was dealing with, she’d have made a proper plan. What if she was resigned to a weird class? She’d hate the idea of toiling the rest of her days sweeping streets.
By the sound of it, this system—the inner system at least, the central directive—made sure to play with the fate of every single living being on the planet. Another thing that bothered her was how she was going to get rid of the body in public view?
She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake unnecessary tension. “Alright, I’ll deal with it, but… I want something to eat, a place to sleep somewhere, and information above all else. You wouldn’t happen to have anything belonging to me, would you? Something personal. You mentioned my armor before.”
The doc gave her a flattened stare. “Don’t be so pushy, you’re not in position to be negotiating anything.”
Callia shrugged. “Callia shrugged. ‘Are you? You seem spooked, afraid the authorities might come knocking. And judging by this fellow’s rough appearance—maybe some war gang, maybe some criminal syndicate?”
There was silence. She ignored the implication that she was in possible hot water.
“I do have one thing—a dog tag. Had you been rational yesterday, I’d have given it to you. Now—”
A dog tag. A soldier’s last piece of identification, an echo of the past. Is that why Kara called her a soldier? That meant there were other’s, yes, she saw people being murdered in that scrapyard. If so, what were their intentions here, why bring a ship onto a supposedly known hostile planet. She needed to get to that wreckage, somehow and soon.
“There’s a small tunnel system. Beneath my basement, it leads to the outskirts of the slum. Just take it through there, move fast, let no one who sees you outside ask questions and if they do state the system has given you a job. Is that clear enough for you.”
No. She was blind, as blind as a bat in a blackened cave.
“Yes, ma’am.”