Didi and the Gunslinger

Chapter 8: Kidnapped

Didi paces her dad's lab while Pip flutters from place to place, muttering, "Oh dear," over and over again. She fears he's on some kind of mental loop, his system overwhelmed, but she doesn't have the will to do anything about it.

She's feeling rather that way herself at the moment.

"So, not a job." She stops in the middle of the room, staring at the empty space where her father's work used to sit. Pip stops his flying, stares at her, head c****d to one side, the whirring of his cyborg eye loud in the stillness. "Looked like an a*******n, Pip. Like they took him."

The crow doesn't comment. For once. The time she needs him to talk to her and he's lost his tongue? Contrary creature.

"They went west." Didi knows where they went, knows the only thing west is Trash City, the single settlement on the planet, the only place anyone who is anyone might want her father. And that skimmer, all sleek and black, no way it belongs to a squatter. Trash City, for certain. She shudders softly, a sympathetic reaction she's barely aware of.

Fear fizzles, simmers. She's been there before, course she has, with Dad. When their skimmer worked, before he traded it off to Putter for parts. Other times he traveled with squatters, never let her go with him. She barely remembers Trash City, always left locked in the vehicle or left home. And he's there, she's sure of it.

Hide her dad from her out here, in the trash, and he'd be free again in a heartbeat. But Trash City... she bites her lower lip, stomach knotted so tight her back aches. "We have to go after him."

"How?" Pip finally has his voice. She wishes he'd shut up again. "No transport, no way of knowing where he went or who took him." He pauses, looks down as though ashamed of his words. "What if he's just gone a bit and is coming back? Would be silly for us to chase after him if that's the case."

Didi's mouth is dry. She needs to swallow but can't. "You think we should wait."

Pip flies to her shoulder and settles. "You'll just see." He sounds cheerful, far too cheerful, but she latches onto his tone like a safety line. "Tarvis will be in touch before morning. Let us know what's what. Just a misunderstanding, him not telling you he was going. You know what your dad is like."

Well... that is true. He's absentminded enough she could see Pip's point. Except she can't get that scene out of her head, her father being shoved into the skimmer, not of his own decision.

"If he doesn't?" It's necessary, to ask.

Pip is silent a long moment before preening his chest feathers and sighing. "I don't know, Didi," he says. "I surely don't."

She waits until morning, just an hour out, with no word from her dad. Pip squeaks and mutters at her, though he doesn't argue at least when she turns on her boots and dons her short coat and goggles, packing some extra water and tools.

She exits the front door, closing it up behind her, locking the system and setting the electrified protections. Pip hops from one foot to the other on a nearby heap of discarded spacer chairs.

"Where you going, Didi?" He flies to her but she shrugs him off her shoulder, forcing him to wing his way past her then circle over her head like a hovering cloud of doom.

"Don't try to stop me, Pip." He squawks as she swats at him, his dive bombing irritating to no end, especially now. "I need answers, not some foolish platitudes and possibilities."

When she turns toward the south, he breathes an audible sigh of relief. "Not the city," he says. Pauses a moment before going on, curiosity in his voice. "You think Putter'll know what's what?"

Didi tromps her way down the path, heading for the southern edge of her territory. "That old man knows everything," she says. "Maybe he's heard something."

Pip tries again to sit on her shoulder and she finally lets him. Sure, he's a pain in her behind but his familiar weight is comforting and she's finding she's in need of more than a little comfort. Doing something, anything, is better than sitting around waiting to hear from Dad-or not hear from him, as she fears will be the case. But, the further her feet carry her from home, the more unstable she feels, and she fights the well of tears that sits in the center of her chest, waiting for her first moment of weakness so they can emerge.

It's a long walk to Putter's territory, though she knows it well and doesn't mind the distance. His spot has a lovely oasis of green in it, the source of her seedlings and slips now growing in her greenhouse. It still amazes Didi how life can flourish on a place like this and, while she grits her teeth against her heart's hurt, she sends out a silent word to Dad. She'll happily go with him anywhere he wants, leave Trash Heaven, if he just comes back to her.

Didi's got Pip, sure. But she's never felt so alone in her life.

The filters in her nostrils buzz at the extra demands on them. Didi can't help but wrinkle her nose, grateful for the distraction of the smell. Putter has a nice organic spot in his territory, but it comes at a price. As the piles of shining garbage turn to teetering, sagging heaps of rotting organics, Didi stumbles over the slick surface of the ground, turning off her deflectors that are only making her passage harder. Thick, oozing pulp squelches under her feet, her open mouth breathing heavily through the plas guard. Filter or not filter, the taste in the back of her throat will linger for days. She has that on experience. And whether it's worse today than usual or she's just acutely aware, Didi is almost tempted to turn back.

"That stench." Pip's complaint instantly seals her path, driving her forward faster. "How can you stand it? I can barely smell and I want to vomit."

Didi grits her teeth. "It's pleasant to humans," she says. "Thought you knew that."

He snorts. "Such a liar, Didi."

She is half tempted to turn around and just go home as her feet squelch through the mess growing sloppier by the second. The heat of the day won't hit for at least another two hours, right around when she'll be arriving at her destination. But, it doesn't have to be at maximum temperature for the liquid under her boots to begin evaporating into the air. It might stink now, but as time goes on, she'll be drenched in sweat and organic fluid in equal measure.

Pip soars up overhead to escape the smell, leaving her to trudge on alone, stubborn, head down, heart hurting. She has no choice. Going home isn't an option. She needs answers and, at the very least, advice. And Putter is the only person she can think of who won't lie to her or try to take advantage of her when he finds out her father is gone.

Of course, Dad will be upset with her for talking their business to other squatters. But, at least Yos Putter is a good friend, someone even her father trusts. She has to believe Dad would approve of her seeking out his help.

If only they'd taken the time to figure out what to do if something like this happened. Dad never wanted to talk contingency plans or what if's. He refused to even discuss what she should do if he got hurt. She eventually stopped asking and, like him, settled into the rhythm of her life, ignoring the obvious danger than any moment either of them could vanish into the trash.

Didi shudders, fear appearing all over again as she sheds her coat in the rising heat, draping it through the strap of her bag. She's always felt secure here, relatively so, anyway. A child of the garbage heap, even when hunting or confronted with danger, she's only really ever felt excited and confident. She pictures the snout of the trash rat yesterday, realizing even then her fear was more a surge of adrenaline and not real terror.

That emotion, she's realizing only now, is a far different animal, a beast stalking her as surely as the pack of rats had. Only it's inside her and she can't escape it by burrowing into a pile of trash.

She's distracted by her thoughts, the miles passing under her boots. This territory might have been contended, a place the most eager squatter would try to claim from its owner, if not for the chemicals. The sludge stream carries them through the garbage. While green grew, Didi knew better than to sample their flavor. Unless a slow and agonizing death was her desire. She hunted here quite often, the mini moles delectable, certainly. But only the flesh, and never anything else. She can't even use the intestines for sausage casings. Too risky. The moles themselves have evolved to process out the deadly spew left over by the dumped garbage, the concentration of which actually making their meat tender and delicious. But, she knows better than to push her luck.

Putter's ability to cleanse enough water-liquid gold in these parts, thank goodness for the new distillation unit in her greenhouse-meant he grew his own plants, safe and protected from the ruin of the planet. But the slim margin of profit he gleaned-at least from his estimation-is enough to discourage any squatter from trying to take his territory.

Didi wipes her face on her arm, the sweat tinted green, and grimaces. Anyone who wants his territory that badly can have it.

She shuffles past the edge of the sludge stream, over the rickety bridge she'd helped Putter build two years ago. The slab he'd previously employed had given way to the continual excessive moisture and drying cycle that happened every single day, crumbling even the most enduring metal into dust in a short period of time. Didi's deflector tech, wound through the new structure, is enough to keep decay at bay, powered by the tiny generator cell she scrounged from the dying power pack of a space suit someone dumped. While the cell itself isn't limitless, Didi's solar coil allows it to charge each morning, more than enough power to carry through overnight.

She runs her hands over the rough rails, rather proud of her invention. She comes by her talent honestly, at least. Though thinking about her father just them makes her chest constrict. She should be focused on finding him, not patting herself on the back like some vid heroine on a quest.

Putter hovers over a cluster of pots outside his domed house, old back bent into a curve. His long, white hair braided, the end sweeping the ground next to the tail of his beard. He looks up at Pip's squawk of welcome, shading his eyes before he hurries toward Didi, face wrinkled and fearful.

It's enough to bring her tears to the surface again, the way Putter looks at her like that. As if he knows something she's not going to like.

"My dear, dear Didi," Putter says, grasping her arms in his hands, kissing her cheek. "We feared the worst when we heard."

That's the end of it then, she thinks. Proof.

Pip mutters before speaking. "You know about Tarvis?"

Putter gestures toward the door of his house. The round, squat structure crumbles around the edges, the old poly and plastic sheeting barely holding together. A woman stands in the doorway with matching long, white hair and pale blue eyes, wrinkles and a faint smile. Didi's only met Putter's new wife once, but Murta was nice to her when she was here a week ago.

"Come inside," she says, gesturing for Didi to precede her. "You poor dear thing."

Didi enters, ducking her head to do so, Pip soaring in over her shoulder to land on the low chair next to the back wall. Stairs lead down into the garbage, subterranean living keeping the interior cool even without the benefit of a conditioning system. The smell is stronger in here, but Didi ignores it, is getting used to it again. Putter closes the door behind him, descending past her to gesture her on.

The pit at the bottom rounds out toward a cooking space, surprisingly comfortable with rescued furniture and a few new pieces Murta must have supplied. The old woman's hands take Didi's and she leads her down into their living quarters, the hushed sound of quiet taking over as they descend twenty feet under the trash.

Putter has been alone so long, Didi is happy to see him with a new wife.

"You know what happened to Dad." Didi stands in the middle of the space while the old couple join ranks, holding hands, nodding and tsking while Putter sighs.

"We've heard rumors," he says. "Feared you were gone, too, but neither of us with the strength to go find out. I'm sorry, Didi. From what we heard over the line, your father's been taken."

The line runs from territory to territory, a monorail system transporting workers and settlers from the outlying areas of Trash Heaven where more productive and valuable garbage is sorted and sent to the city for sale. A perfect source of gossip. And, she realizes as she struggles with asking what else they know, an opportunity for her to reach the city if she's willing to take it.

If she's brave enough.

"Who took Dad?" They know, she can tell from their expressions, from the way Murta twitches next to Putter, how he pats her hand before turning his watering green eyes on Didi.

"Not sure what your father did to warrant it," he says, voice soft and afraid, "but it's not good Didi. Not at all. Your dad..." he looks to Murta whose lips thin, blue eye hard.

"Your father was taken by an Underlord."

***