Transformation Space - Marianne de Pierres [35]
‘At this rate, we’ll have them all over us,’ she said as they stopped to rest.
Jo-Jo pointed through the dark to the solid shadow above them. ‘Something there.’
He heard her suck in a deep breath, even though her hood was up. ‘Okay, let’s back up a bit and try climbing a bit further out. Even if we have to go higher and come back. We need to stay on the hard rock.’
She climbed off sideways for a while, and then began to ascend again.
Jo-Jo worked on keeping her feet in sight, as the sweat poured from him and his muscles began to tire. The night winds burned the exposed skin on his cheeks. He wanted to close the hood, but he wouldn’t be able to see Randall clearly if he did.
By the time they reached the footings of the closest building, the mere act of breathing hurt his dry lips and swollen throat.
He grabbed Randall’s ankle. ‘Water. Stop,’ he rasped.
Randall slid down close to him. ‘What?’
He mimed drinking.
Randall glanced up. ‘Better in there. Night winds – bad tonight. Mebbe – storm – brewing. Drink up – let’s move.’
Jo-Jo poured fluid past his stinging lips and forced himself to climb on until they reached the side of the building. Thankfully, the door unsealed without a protest, and they found themselves in a building with a very similar configuration to the one they’d left.
‘More offices,’ pronounced Rast, after they’d caught their breath. She sounded disappointed. ‘Need to get to the villas. Better chance of finding an AiV in one of them.’
Jo-Jo gulped water as he leaned against the wall, and wished his body would cool down. Randall didn’t seem bothered by the same discomfort.
Jo-Jo felt another wave of begrudging respect for the woman. Resilient didn’t even begin to describe Rast Randall. The only chink he’d seen in her armour was a psychological one. Trapped inside the Extro ship, unsure whether they were actually alive or just an aggregation of sound bytes, Randall had nearly lost it.
Whatever the Entity had done to Jo-Jo’s mind when he’d first stumbled across it, it had somehow enabled him to survive and function in the Post-Species environment. Better than Randall had, anyway.
Maybe he owed Sole something for that.
He hadn’t felt the pull of the Entity since Edo, and he hadn’t missed its presence. The way it had drawn him to Belle-Monde and into Tekton’s clutches, and then his irresistible impulse to accept Lasper Farr’s deal and travel to Rho Junction with Mira Fedor … it was like having strings attached to his limbs.
‘I’ll take the top levels. You do the basement,’ said Randall. And she was gone before he could argue.
Jo-Jo made his way down the stairwell. Like the one they’d just left, the building was a catoplasma structure, with some of the quirks and problems that came with spontaneous gro-materials. The basement ceiling bulged so low in one spot that he had to bend over, and as he ran his hand down the wall alongside the stairs, he felt how it had buckled inward.
With his eyes well accustomed to the dark, he was able to make out shapes. The basement looked like a storage area. Jo-Jo moved among the shelves, feeling along them where he could reach. Some familiar objects, some unidentifiable.
He was fingering a narrow and compact case when Randall called down the stairs to him. ‘Trouble. Move.’
Jo-Jo stuffed the object in the pocket of his fellalo and scrambled up the stairs.
Randall was already at the exit door, a bundle of shadow, crouched low. She grabbed his arm and squeezed, a signal that he took meant to keep quiet.
Without warning, she turned and shoved him back down the stairs. Sliding alongside him, she flattened herself against the pinched catoplasma steps. Her hand found the back of his neck and pushed his head down.
At the same time he heard the pop of the door seal. A strong, sweet, familiar smell pervaded the air. Scraping sounds rasped along the floor.
Jo-Jo fought a compulsion to raise his head and look. As if sensing his desire, Randall pressed harder on his head.