Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [94]
These walls are, unquestionably, ancient, but the stonework is anything but primitive. Even by the pale green gleam, the construction reveals real sophistication; this place was built to last—and it has. A chill rolls through me at the idea that we’re the first in a thousand turns . . . or more . . . to see what lies before us. I get the same feeling I do just before a jump, full of anticipation.
“It’s humbling,” I say softly.
“You take my words. I do not feel worthy to be here.”
I shake my head at that. “If anyone is, you are.”
With his enhanced senses, Vel leads the way deeper into the labyrinth, and the vault door closes behind us, leaving us with only the glow of his shockstick. I follow for countless moments in silence, trying not to freak about the weight of the stone. Are we still inside the building or has this led down into the ground itself?
My heart races as I fight irrational fear. This reminds me of being trapped in the Sargasso, though there’s no accompanying stench of burning meat. The last time I had one of these trips, Doc talked me down, but he’s gone now. The wave of memory hits me like a tide, and the pain is blinding.
“Jax?” I can’t see him, but I hear sympathy and understanding in his voice. “One step at a time. Closing your eyes might help. Forget about the dark.”
How embarrassing. He knows. Sirantha Jax, afraid of the dark. Nonetheless I take his advice and squeeze my eyelids shut. Feel my way down.
Somewhere along the way, I miss a rung, but I don’t fall far. Solid as a brick wall, Doc’s placed to catch me. I think he could hold a baby elephant. He holds me for a moment, effortlessly, while we listen to the sky falling above us.
I’m sure it’s just my imagination, but I swear I can hear the rustle of wings. “Is this a good idea? I mean, don’t the Teras live underground?”
“Clan Dahlgren dug the bunkers,” he assures me. “And secured them. They don’t connect to the natural caverns where the Teras make their home.”
“If you say so.”
I remember what he said about magnesium mines. You couldn’t pay me enough to work down there. Or maybe it was all automated, like some of the moon’s mining facilities, just a skeleton crew to oversee and repair the droids.
Doc sets me on my own feet and cracks a torch-tube. I’ve never been so glad to see chemicals mixing. Soon, the ambient light bathes our faces in a sickly yellow-green glow.
“I’m afraid your tests will have to wait.”
Really? I thought you’d produce a pocket lab and cure me right now. Somehow I manage not to snap at him. He’s the only thing standing between me and madness down here.
“Yeah, I gathered that. Where do these tunnels lead?”
“To the main bunker. It’s a honeycomb down here, and unless you know the way, you could wander for days and never find the way in.”
“I guess that’s the idea.” I fall behind him, keeping one hand on his shoulder. I don’t care if he thinks I’m touchy-feely, overly familiar, or just scared shitless. The latter is true, and he’s seen me melt down before.
“Exactly. This is our final fallback. They can reduce the compound to rubble, but they’ll never find us.” He sounds so calm at the prospect of living for an undisclosed period of time belowground.
The very idea makes me sweat. I can smell my fear, sour and sickly. My fingers trail along the sides of the tunnel as we move, puffs of powder drifting into the wan light. I fall quiet, listening to our footsteps scrape over the dry stone. Time slows, becomes impossible to measure.
Just Doc and me, surrounded by an island of night. I want to hide my face against his broad back. Instead, I walk on, trying to think of this as a test. If I come out of it unscathed, I’ll be stronger.
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