Beneath the dark waters of Babylon City harbour, mountains of trash rose like remnants of an ancient city. Suddenly, the ground shook and they came crashing down. A huge net emerged from the water, lifting a haul of trash toward the surface, sediment streaming in its wake. On deck, Thaqib watched as the net was pulled from the water by a massive metal arm jutting over the railing.

All around, police cruisers darted across the harbour and he watched as dive crews launched from different spots. He wondered what they could possibly hope to find. The harbour was huge, and it was so littered with junk that it would be near impossible to find anything.

Beyond the cruisers, he saw Hexagon, the prison island that most residents of Babylon City tried to ignore. It was an open secret that people were being regularly ‘disappeared’ and taken there. Most people were afraid that by talking about it they might end up there themselves. Above its black walls, a strange blue glow emanated like a halo. Nobody knew what went on in the prison because once someone was taken there, they were never seen again.

Some of the crew had been concerned about the police coming aboard. They had heard of other barges being inspected for any strange objects they’d pulled up that may have come from the Veil. The crew had a habit of keeping contraband hidden on the barge, and they were worried about it being discovered.

As the net was brought over the deck and emptied upon it, Thaqib stared into the distance at the Veil through a stream of falling trash. It was something that never ceased to amaze him—despite the disturbing way it made him feel—its size, the mystery it held. How could such a thing come to be and why was it that only he had any interest in what lay beyond it? Not only was no one interested, Babylon itself disliked anyone taking notice and actively discouraged any talk of it. The wall—that served as a barrier between the Veil and the city—was there not only as a physical boundary to prevent anyone from investigating the Veil, but also as a psychological one, to mark the end of the Babylonian Empire, and for all intents and purposes, all that existed.

Thaqib felt the deck rumble and anxiety crept into his chest. Only one person could have that effect. He turned to see a large blob of a man, hair coming out of every exposed bit of flesh, waddling more like a sea-mammal than a human. It was his boss and captain of the ship, Beemo.

“Thaqib! Get your skinny behind down on deck and get sorting!” he yelled.

Thaqib sighed and nodded. There was no use disobeying Beemo unless you wanted him on your back for the whole shift, and the shift was tedious enough without that.

Beemo didn’t do any actual work, that was for the crew, and he enjoyed that fact a little too much. Once he’d been one of them, but had recently been promoted when their last captain—Rast—had been fired and sent for a short stint in prison. It gave him a superiority complex, having the authority to boss his former work mates around, and he lorded it over them with great satisfaction. It was a fact they all had to deal with regardless of how it irked them, he wielded too much power over their jobs. One word to the authorities and you could find yourself out of a job or worse, in a labor camp, for failing to fulfill your duties to the state.

Thaqib didn’t have to worry about falling on the bad side of Beemo, he was already on it, and had been for as long as he’d worked on the barge. The old captain he’d replaced had been Rast, and Rast also happened to be Thaqib’s guardian. It was how Thaqib had come to work on the barge in the first place. Beemo always seemed to be suspicious of Thaqib, and paid particularly close attention to him. Thaqib thought it was because he reminded Beemo that he wasn’t all he thought he was. He was an unwelcome reminder that the rest of the crew missed Rast.

Thaqib picked up his sorting implement, a long metal pole, one side of which had a kind of shovel attached for pushing the trash around, the other side had a hook for picking. He got to work where the trash had been spilled across the deck like the innards of a great sea-beast. The work was tedious, but he was used to it, he’d been doing it every day for the last ten years. He spent the time drifting away into plans and ideas, into dreams of what he’d do one day when he figured out a way to get away from this place.

Babylon City was the capital of the Southern Empire, the southernmost outpost of Babylon. It was also the last spot on the map before the world disappeared behind the Veil. Thaqib thought it ironic that he could at once be so close and so far from escaping into the unknown at the same time.

He sorted through bits and pieces of trash and wondered about all the things that could have come out of the Veil, to think that below his very feet there could be a clue to the mystery of what lay behind it. The day passed slowly, and soon it was getting late, not that you’d know by looking at the sky—that was as dark as ever—it was more of a feeling, something about the chill in the air changed as the sun set somewhere behind the clouds. Thaqib had often wondered if there really was a sun up there, he’d never seen it but Rast had assured him—it was up there. Whether it was there or not, not seeing its effect made the days seem to drag on, blending from one to the next, making him feel even more trapped.

As he dug through the trash, struggling to breath through the putrid smell that burned his nose, he spotted something. A small figurine. He bent down and picked it up, wiping dirt from it. He recognized the figure, Rast had many versions of it. It was an ancient goddess named Sophia. Rast said people used to pray to her for guidance. Thaqib didn’t believe in all of that. Maybe Rast would appreciate it, maybe he could give it to him to apologize for the way he’d been acting. He tucked it into his pocket.

“Playing with dolls now are ya?” yelled Shazi from across the trash pile. He was a wiry guy with sunken eyes that made him look more like a skeleton than living person. He was much older than Thaqib and his favorite past time was belittling him. “Give us a look then,” he said through rotted teeth.

“Nah, its nothing,” Thaqib replied, knowing that if he gave it over, he’d never see it again.

“Come on, I said give it here,” Shazi insisted.

Thaqib stepped back, he’d decided this was for Rast and he knew exactly what would happen if Shazi got a hold of it. Either he’d keep it or just throw it over board to spite him.

“It’s mine,” Thaqib replied.

“What was that?” Shazi asked. “When I tell you to hand something over, you do it.” He stuck out a bony hand that looked like it had never been washed. “Now, hand it over.” Shazi shoved Thaqib in the shoulder.

Thaqib had been pushed around enough for one day and he wasn’t going to let this one slide. It was about time Shazi got what was coming to him, he’d messed with him for the last time. Thaqib lunged at Shazi, pushing him flat on his behind.

Dameer, another of the crew, a man built like a bulldozer, burst out laughing. “You alright there Shazi? Taking up diving are ya?”

Shazi’s face was burning bright red as he pulled it from the stinking pile of soggy refuse, bits of things unknown stuck to his face. “Stupid punk!” he yelled, lunging at Thaqib.

The viciousness of Shazi’s attack caught Thaqib off guard, Shazi tackled him to the ground. Thaqib kicked Shazi in the stomach, giving him a chance to get up. He ran to the railing, then turned and waited for Shazi to attack.

BOOOM

An explosion rattled the barge. Suddenly, Thaqib heard the sound of a speed boat approaching. He turned to see a ramshackle craft speeding across the harbour. There was something strange about the people that were driving the boat, they had long flowing robes, beige and purple, and trailing behind them, long dreadlocks.

“What?” Thaqib said, under his breath. “It’s them!” He looked closely, trying to see if one of the figures on board was the man he’d met on the roof-top. The boat was going too fast and he couldn’t get a good look. He watched intensely as the boat screamed across the water.

Another explosion burst in the water near the speed-boat as a chopper dropped out of the sky, and opened fire with a barrage of red laser beams that sent plumes of vapor bursting into the air as they hit the surface of the water. With expert handling, the speed-boat managed to out maneuver the chopper’s fire in a display that made even an experienced shredder rider like Thaqib impressed.

A police cruiser burst out from behind a rock, chasing after the speeder. A gunner on it’s roof sent out a volley of green bursts.

“Looks like those Order of Zion terrorists they been showin’ on all the screens,” Dameer said. “Thought they’d been wiped out.”

Shazi lost interest in Thaqib, distracted by the battle raging before them. “Haven’t heard from ‘em in years. What are they doin’ out here in the bay with all these cops about?”

“Maybe it’s about whatever came out of the Veil last night,” Dameer replied.

“Shh, don’t let Beemo hear you talkin’ about it, he’s liable to rat you out. Last thing you need is a reason for the cops to think you might know somethin’ about it,” Shazi replied.

Dameer nodded gruffly.

“What do you think it was?” Thaqib asked leaning in close.

“Huh?” Dameer said. “Who cares what it was! You gotta get your head out of the clouds boy! Ain’t no concern of ours, you wanna lose your job? How you gonna look after old Rast if that happens?”

Thaqib frowned at not being able to speak freely.

Suddenly the police cruiser rode up on the side of the speeder and agents descended upon the boat. Thaqib was shocked with the way the the Order engaged the the police. The way they fought was exactly like the man who’d saved him.

“Look at ‘em move, I never seen anything like that,” Dameer said.

Thaqib watched as the members of the Order expertly defeated the agents and sent them flying overboard. Once the speed-boat was free, the Order members managed to restart their engine. As they did, the chopper circled around and sent searing blasts of laser fire exploding around them. The boat was away before they could find their mark. Thaqib watched as it zipped off, disappearing behind a group of trash rigs.

The excitement was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Thaqib felt disappointed that the welcome distraction from his normal routine was over. For a brief moment he had been transported to another world. He suddenly wanted to know all he could about this Order and how they had learned to fight as they did. He turned to Dameer, “Who are they?”

“Low-life dirty scoundrels, nothing you should be worrying about boy.”

“But what do they want?” Thaqib asked.

“They follow some ancient religion—at least that’s what I’ve heard—from the days before Babylon took over.”

Ancient religion? Thaqib thought, Like the one Rast practiced?

“Sounds like a load of it to me, but hey—that’s just me,” Shazi said throwing his head back laughing.

“Ain’t just you Shazi,” Dameer added, “I hope they get what’s coming to ‘em. We’ve moved on from those old ways, they’re just causin’ trouble trying to hold on to ‘em.”

“Yeah, wipe ‘em out!” Shazi added.

Thaqib decided that these two bone-heads weren’t the ones he should be talking to about this. He realized now that old Rast probably knew exactly what was going on, and he’d been too hard headed to pay attention. He couldn’t wait for the shift to end so he could get home and tell him what he’d seen, and more importantly, find out what he knew about it.