Just an Undercity Rat by Julie Steimle (best finance books of all time .txt) 📕

“You are getting your militaries mixed up,” Alzdar said. “The Surface Patrol aren’t killers. Most of them are descendants of the old royal guard.”

Rolling his eyes at him, Jafarr continued to stare out the window. “That’s just a fancy way of saying they are Guard Class.”

“Alzdar, he doesn’t care if they aren’t P.M.s.” Dzhon broke in from behind with a certain mocking tone. “They just aren’t important to the future ambassador to Partha.”

Jafarr turned around, reached across the aisle, and smacked Dzhon across his forehead. “Shut up! It is not something to joke about.”

But Dzhon sniggered all the same, and even Alzdar smirked. They both knew it had been the wish of Jafarr’s mother to be an ambassador to Partha. But now that she was dead, Jafarr was determined to fulfill it for her.

Dzhon rubbed his head, scowling yet not angry.

“You know, it may just be the Surface Patrol that will get you that position since the P.M.s won’t let you,” Alzdar suggested. Their other classmates smirked.

With a glare Jafarr spoke in a brisk whisper. “Alzdar, this isn’t the time to talk about that. Besides, I think the Surface Patrol has no power over the government.”

Alzdar shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. It is my belief that the Surface Patrol may join the rebellion on day—”

Jafarr quickly covered his mouth. “Shut up, Al! You should know better than to talk like that. The sky can hear[1].” 

He turned again to face the window.

The other students tried not to listen; also staring into the blurred expanse of the middlecity buildings they were passing. Alzdar let out a sickened sigh and joined them in staring at the repetitive flashing, which was really all they could make out of the buildings they passed.

Their school bus entered the middlecity transport speed tunnel, leaning in the curve of the cavern arch. The blur of buildings extended higher inside the large vaulted cavern.  Several were eighty stories tall, most of them extensions of corporations owned by the uppercity High Class. Hanging from the ceiling near those buildings were signs declaring them no-fly zones—mostly to protect their investments from careless flymites and rat drivers. The faster vehicles flew overhead, while the slower plugged on, near the ground. Their vehicle slowed down and entered the lower traffic, anticipating a turn into a dense traffic load. Strings of traffic signals directed flight vehicles along with extended poles hanging from the ceiling-sky. Their light changed upon their entrance into the intersection. The transport vehicle nestled alongside other flight cars in its wait onward.

Whipping down from three levels of traffic, a small Surface Patrol officer maneuvered his shiny new flight scooter, resting beside them, joined immediately by two others. The eyes of the students immediately caught onto the white chrome, flickering up their clean uniforms of black and white, though one wore a pine green suit with gold stripes on it, helmeted with the heart of Arras painted on the center front.

The first Surface Patrol flymite nonchalantly balanced his flight scooter with his foot resting the other foot on the ground while he adjusted his helmet straps with his right hand to make it tighter. Jafarr glanced only for a moment. Anybody who had gone to the Surface Gate would see varying degrees of these soldiers. Almost all of them were cocky pilots, flying around the airways as if they didn’t have a care in the world. In many ways he was jealous. Out of all the people in Arras, they seemed to be the freest, laughing like life was a game while his own people trudged in misery in the depths of the city. Whether the solider was aware of the stares of the undercity students, he acted as if he didn’t care who was watching. And when the signal changed again, the rider sped off into the traffic ahead, much like the tiny fly he resembled to so many in the underground city. The slow undercity transport continued on, the staring students resuming their seats.

The craft sped past shops before reaching the opening to the city’s main commerce center. The Surface Gate’s open cavern was lighter and more airy than any other section of the underground city. They parked the school vehicle off to the side at the opening of the Surface Patrol tunnel and their teacher gave the order to file out. Their vehicle was not allowed within the Surface Patrol zone, so they had to walk. Exiting in their usual order, they formed the usual single file line along the wall casting yearning looks to the Surface Gate shops. Dzhon whispered to Alzdar and his friend shrugged back.

“Are you coming to Sandi’s this afternoon, or are you working again?” Alzdar asked Jafarr before their teacher ordered them to march into the Surface Gate tunnel. 

Jafarr shook his head. “I’m working. Dad wants me to help at the shop.”

Dzhon and Alzdar frowned, sharing a mutual sigh as they entered the tunnel that would lead to the Surface Patrol compound.

The tunnel was a narrow, six-sided hall designed for Surface Patrol flight only. On the right, a path not more than one person wide marked in red the designated pedestrian walking space. The rest of the walls were painted the same dark shade of green as that Surface Patrol officer’s uniform they saw earlier. Three strips of lights illuminated the corridors: two that ran along the ceiling, glowing in continuous lines of clear gelatinous cells above them, and one ran along the floor on the opposite side of the pedestrian path. Air vents hung over the hallway, glowing somewhat with an orange light that came from electric security grids, each one spaced yards apart in the center of the ceiling. And at every juncture they spotted signs warning pedestrians against traffic from high-speed vehicles. They also saw glowing maps at each junction that showed the basic tunnel grid of the Surface Gate in case they got lost.

Once the class commenced down the corridor with their teacher at the head, several of the students slipped from their places in line and moved to where they could walk near their friends. Jafarr snuck behind Alzdar, while Dzhon pushed next to Jafarr, nudging the other students aside. A few glared at him but others also followed suit. If the teacher noticed, she made no mention as she continued walking on the path ahead.

Most of the trip was silent, though many whispered and pointed fingers at the interesting features of this usually exclusive tunnel. Very rarely did anyone other than Surface Patrol officers enter these domains. It was like stepping into another world. The tunnels hummed with an eerie echo as if it were haunted as the students walked snugly against the sloping wall. Occasionally one strayed from the path to get a better look at the tunnel but was reminded to keep to the wall by the heightening pitch in the hum that always preceded a Surface Patrol flight scooter before it zipped by. The first one that passed sent all of them clinging to the wall for cover. Even the teacher trembled looking up and around with horror, then she straightened up, clearing her throat though she still leaned on the wall.

Dzhon stood up first, still trembling. “This is so massive! So surfaced! I wonder if they’ll let us fly one of those things!”

Rising also, Jafarr laughed. “I doubt it. You’d crash one with the way you drive.”

Dzhon jabbed him in the back, but that didn’t stop Jafarr from laughing more. The other students shakily scrambled to their feet, then continued on their trek.

After quite a long walk, which perhaps was almost a half hour, they came to a large solid metal door at the end of the long corridor. The door itself was more than just metal. It was machinery that had several layers to it with an access panel on it for those who drove in to signal with a digital code so the doors would open before them. Then there was a smaller pedestrian door that stood off to side for visitors such as themselves, though Jafarr suspected the P.M.s used the door most of the time. Their instructor went to that door and typed in a short code, swiping her data card through the slot containing their class list and ID’s. Jafarr felt his insides squirm with the thought of his name already on going into in the hands of a military. However when he watched her, his eyes fell on the computer. His lip twitched. The computer looked simple enough. He wondered how easy it was to break open. 

They heard the mechanism inside hum and then click three times, followed by a voice. <<Enter>>

The pedestrian door made a popping sound before it slid quickly into the larger door. A bright light shone into the green corridor, the silhouette of a man standing there beckoning them to come in.

“Well, students,” their teacher said, “Go on in and don’t forget your order.”

Many of Jafarr’s classmates rushed back to their original positions in the line, though he merely did a two-step, and one by one they walked through the door. Inside, the class lined up along a wall. As they did, letting their eyes adjust to the bright light in the gate room, someone commanded them to lift their arms so they could be searched. Jafarr raised his, blinking while squinting to see. He felt hands stroke over his jacket and for a second his heart thumped at the possibility of them finding the stolen data card, but the man who frisked him merely placed them back in his pocket with a smirk then moved on to the next boy.

When they were done searching, the man at the gate nodded to another soldier dressed in green, and that soldier bowed beckoning them to follow him. He led them to an open hall not far from the entrance where a sandy-blond haired man in his early twenties with freckles across his face and pale blue eyes bowed to them. He had a pleasant smile, and when he greeted them he spoke candidly as if he were one of them.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, but this is a military base and security is always our first priority.” He looked the class over then started his introductory speech. “I am Alea Arden, the head Alea of the district, second in command to the Kevin.”

[1] Means the same as “walls have ears”. An old Arrassian saying.

“I told you so,” whispered Alzdar to Jafarr.

Jafarr shook his head silently.

“If you would come this way I will show you to the briefing room.” Alea Arden led the class down the hall to a large room where an enormous vis-screen hung at one end. The room could match the width of several caverns possibly housing over a thousand individuals—more if they were all standing. It had pillars holding the ceiling that reached only above the minimum height for a tall Arrassian. Alzdar could easily touch it with the palms of his hands, his elbows slightly bent. The length made up for it though, causing the actual stage in the front to look distant. A strong echo added