At least there are no Morgut down here.
I come back to myself with some effort. That’s the only thing the two occasions have in common—the dark and my irrational response to it.
I’m so sorry, Saul.
To distract myself from the guilt, I say, “I don’t suppose you asked the bot if there’s any food around here?”
“Of course. And there is not.”
That makes sense, however grim the news. Machines don’t eat. Unfortunately, the diversion doesn’t last long, and my chest tightens painfully. Vel slows his pace and takes my hand. His claws are longer than my fingers and cool to the touch. The skin between the chitin feels rough, leathery, but the underside is thinner and softer. I don’t remember if we’ve ever held hands like this before. His touches have been rare and guarded, but this is more; this is him offering a lifeline in the dark.
“Thank you.”
He acknowledges my gratitude with a dismissive lift of one shoulder, a very human gesture, one he learned from Adele, I think. But I don’t bring her up because we’re in too scary a place, all the way around, to want to add emotional weight. The tunnel slants downward sharply, becoming more of a slide, and I balk.
He tugs. “I will protect you, Sirantha.”
I’m touched, though I know he can’t save me from my own fears: the darkness, the pressure of the stone overhead, or wherever the hell this ends. Though it feels like a bad idea, I follow, because there’s no hope for survival behind us. All of the information in the world won’t keep our bodies alive, and not even my nanites can repair dehydration and starvation. Shit, they have enough work on their hands trying to heal this bite.
“Good enough for me. I’m going.” After all, there’s no turning back.
As soon as I hit the top of the ramp, there’s a peculiar lack of friction, as if this surface has been greased, and I can’t control my descent at all. I slide into a fall, careening wildly into the darkness, tearing away from Vel. He calls out, but my speed has already put me ahead of him, and there’s no way he can catch up. Whatever awaits us at the bottom, I’ll face it first.
I slam into the wall and then there’s a sharp turn before I spill onto level ground. The impact tears the wound in my side; warm blood trickles down my hip. That’s just what I need, an invitation to any predators lurking. With some effort, I remind myself that there are no Morgut here. We’re Mary knows how far from any known life, and that knowledge allows me to swallow the scream building in my throat.
“Vel?” I call.
Then I hear the noise of him slipping down after me. I try to scramble to the side, but he hits me full on, knocking me to the ground. Shit. His chitin really packs a punch. I whimper a little, and he rolls away with an apologetic click.
“Have I injured you?”
“No worse than I was. Where the hell are we?”
“Let me scan the area.”
Thank Mary, we have functional tech again. After trying the primitive lifestyle, I’ve got to say that I prefer modern conveniences. His handheld hums in powering up, then glows; we have to be careful with the charge, so he can’t keep it on constantly. Once it’s gone, who knows when we can juice it up again? There are no charging stations around here, and the solar pack was fried when we went through the gate. I don’t think he was able to replace that in the vault.
“It appears to be a system of catacombs.”
“Isn’t that where people buried their dead?”
“Some cultures,” he admits.
Lovely. We walked away from a high-tech area for a tomb. I’ve been feeling like we made a mistake ever since we left the jungle, but there’s no fixing it now. Sometimes, you have to push through the terrible stuff in order to find something better. I’ll cling to the hope that’s what we’re doing.
CHAPTER 30
It’s miserable down here.
The oppressive weight of stone is bad enough. I feel like I can’t breathe, and the sensation only intensifies as we creep through dark stone passageways filled with bones. Oh, they’re carefully tended and stowed in niches cut into the wall, but that doesn’t help in the least, particularly when I note the distinct lack of humanity in their physiology. They aren’t Mareq. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.
Right now, I’m passing through the dead heart of the Maker civilization. Nobody’s been here since they left this world, however long ago that might have been. I can tell the truth of that from the thick dust on the ground.
After setting his pack down, Vel stops before one of the open tombs, studying the skeletal structure by the faint glow of his torch-tube. I have no words for how alien they are, but they took great care with their dead, as the remains have been arrayed with kingly care.
“I do not believe they were bipedal.”
I’ve no idea how he discerns that, but I’m not arguing. I just want out of here before exhaustion, hunger, and sheer panic overwhelm me. My pulse pounds in my skull, and each new breath feels as though the oxygen has thinned.
“Let’s keep moving,” I say, my voice thready with fear.
He cuts me a sharp look, as if trying to determine what ails me, then turns back to the bones in abject fascination. “We cannot leave just yet,” he says. “Think of what scientists can learn if they can extract a suitable DNA sample.”
Before I can name any one of the hundred reasons I think this is a terrible idea, he reaches into the niche and plucks out a small, curved bone. The response is immediate; beneath our feet, the ground gives way. Desperately, I dive for the far side and catch hold of the stone lip, dangling with one hand as Vel disappears. The torch-tube bounces away into the darkness, leaving me alone with my ragged breathing and the fear of falling.