Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [95]
“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