It’s about as long a walk as the old man mentioned. I number the tunnels I pass, counting them against the ones he marked out on the map. Although, even if I take a wrong turn, by the layout scribbled on the paper I’m starting to get the picture that any tunnel will eventually lead to the center of the city if I keep my sense of direction even vaguely correct.
Given the state of me, that isn’t precisely a given, but I can try.
Each tunnel is about the same as the ones the old woman led me through—tall and damp and built of a mixture of stone and metal. Occasional moss clings to the ceiling or the walls, dripping stale water to the drainage below. It smells decidedly worse than the tunnel where those people had made their homes, but not as bad as that one I was sulking in back on the surface after we got my DNA tested by that woman—
I shake my head to clear my thoughts and regret it, leaning against the wall until the sudden and painful dizziness eases. Touching my fingers to my temple, I find crusted-over wounds, probably from falling, but I wouldn’t know. Even touching some of the places where metal protrudes from my face hurts more than I’d like to admit. It’s a miracle my ears are still working. My eyes too, now that I mention it. I don’t know what I’d do if those failed me.
I’ve sat down a few times already and don’t think I should do it again. Every time, it gets harder and harder to force my legs back under me. Who knows what types of people live down here, most probably not as friendly or at least as unbothered as those folks I just left behind.
The only blessing so far is that I haven’t run into anyone else who wanted to do me even a little bit of harm. I’m in no position to fight, and that little knife I have isn’t going to do me much good if I can barely stand upright under my own weight.
Where is Bat?
I know it’s selfish, but I wish one of the humans had fallen down here with me. It’s a stupid passing thought, because they certainly wouldn’t have survived, and I cast it aside as soon as I think it. But at least I wouldn’t be alone down here. I’ve had at least one of them at my back for so many months, whether it’s Zane or Lalia fighting alongside me, or Yvonne giving people grief when they make faces at me, that I feel the lack of their presence more than I should.
This is pathetic. I’ve lived without humans for ages, I shouldn’t be wishing for them to appear here. It’s only because I’m in pain and I know in the back of my mind that if I don’t get help, I might just die. I miss Audra too, but I’d take any of the humans that have been bugging me in my ship, perhaps even over her.
Despite my best efforts, I sit and put my head against my knee, knowing I’m feeling sorry for myself and unable to do much about it.
What do I do? Even when I get to the engines of this place, I’m starting to think I’ve vastly overestimated my ability to climb out of here once I find a way out. This has all been going so badly I don’t quite believe there will be some elevator I can just take up. What if any of the workers maintaining this place get hostile, or call the authorities on me? I can’t avoid Amerov numbers in this state. They’d figure out my bounty, drag me back to Captain…
Maybe I should just die down here.
I rub my eyes as gently as I can without hurting them and push myself back to my feet. If I give up or get too emotional, I’m never going to get out of here. I already decided I’m not going to die down in this awful place, and I’ll be damned if I figure out a way to get out only to give up on the walk there. Looking at the crinkled map in my hands, I estimate I’m maybe a third to a half of the way there—I’ll make it out fine.
* * *
I hear the turbines before I see them. Apparently, my ears are still working better than I imagined. Pausing in the tunnel, I cock my head, trying to determine the direction they’re coming from. I glance at the little hand-drawn map, struggling to keep track of where I am, my thoughts never in order for more than a moment.
I think it lines up with where I seem to be, but I follow the sound now, taking a left down a hallway. Wind buffets me, whipping my hair back, aggravating my eyes. I’m surprised this place is as close as it is to the little hallway where the people had chosen to settle. They seemed afraid of the turbines, irritated by the noise at least, enough that both the old woman and man wouldn’t lead me here. It is closer than I anticipated, and I’m grateful. I’m a walking corpse as it is.
Carefully, I creep out toward the light source at the end of the tunnel, leaning against the entrance. I’m not exactly expecting anyone to be down here, but I’m in no position to gamble.
The chamber is vast and empty, smelling no fresher than all the other musty, damp and dripping stone and metal of this place. A high grating of metal mesh reaches to the ceiling on the far end of the cavern. Something massive and shimmering whips just behind it, then again and again. The sound of it rattles me deep down in my bones, the distinct uncanny sensation of something too large and unreal to exist and be moving.
I stare at it for a moment, my thoughts too messed up to consider it properly, before leaning out the tunnel and, finding it empty, crossing the tall cavern.
The mesh separating the turbine from the rest of the tunnels is too thick for me to break through in my condition, but someone’s already done so—the corner where the metal meets the stones has been peeled back and cut just enough for a grown man to fit through.
Well, I’m definitely not the only one down here. At least, there have been people in the past.
The wind off the turbine is killing my ears, which in turn aggravates my already pounding headache. I squint up at it through the mesh. It isn’t precisely an engine. If it were, it would be going too fast for me to stand anywhere near. And all I see is the turbine itself, nothing resembling a giant ship’s engine. I don’t know if it’s further in or covered by the spinning blades or just doesn’t exist to begin with, but the cut wires are a good sign that if other people were here, there should be a way out.
Squeezing through the grating, I lean against it on the other side, as far from the spinning blades as possible. They may be going slow, but quick enough to kill me.
If I’m not already about to keel over dead.
Glancing off to my right, I see very little but darkness. To my left, there’s not much else, but I edge that way, taking myself a little farther from the spinning death blades. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can always circle back—if I truly have to.
Once the metal ends, it’s more stone walls, and by the time I’m level with the tips of the swirling blades, a rusty staircase leads up. I let out a long breath, relieved, then regret it immediately my chest hurts with the little movement. Leaning on the rough metal railing, I sit on the bottom step without meaning to, resting my temple against the wall. The pain in my arm and ribs and ankle has melded into a general agony in every limb I’m surprised I didn’t break anything else. Maybe I did. Maybe that’s why I’m starting to be certain I’m dying. I don’t want to die down in this place. I don’t want to die at all, but it’s always a constant possibility in the back of my mind. I’m tougher than most, and that’s kept me away from death enough I could repair myself or Bat could help.
Even if I manage to find the others, and get back to my ship, I’m not sure Bat can fix me.
I stare at a spot of moss on the floor, willing myself to get back up. I may very well die, but I sure as hell don’t want to do it down here. Not in this place. I want to see Bat again. I want to see my humans again.
I don’t know if they’ll be with him, but I want to see them again.
Something thumps far above me. I jump, grimacing. Glancing up the stairs behind me, I find nothing but more dim light, and no heat signatures. Probably just the turbine, but I shouldn’t stay here. I wonder how far down I am, and how far up I’m going to have to climb. No use thinking about it, I’ll only freak myself out—leaning against the railing, I push myself to my feet and head up. Every so slowly.
Another thump sounds somewhere above, and I squint upward, not daring to actually stop lest I can’t make my legs start up again. Still, I don’t see any heat signatures—other than the heat from the spinning turbine—but who knows how thick the walls are up here. Who knows how much damage I did to my eyes. Maybe I’m not seeing every temperature there is to see…
Stop panicking, Aaron.
Near the top of the turbine—looking down doesn’t give me much to see—there’s another platform and another set of stairs disappearing into the wall this time. It’s darker here, but not entirely pitch-black. Feeling unsettled, I put my hand in my pocket, curling my sore fingers around the handle of the little electric knife. I don’t want to actually hold it out, it’s fully possible I’ll drop it, and it’s the only weapon I have left. But it’s comforting to hold.
Poking my head into the next set of stairs, I find it empty as far as I can discern. Below me, the loud whoosh of the turbine makes my skin crawl. I gratefully step into the stone of the tunnel, where if one of the rusted old metal steps breaks, I won’t fall to my death.
I keep climbing.
Eventually, the stairs come to an intersection of smaller pathways, and I keep on the one going up. Eventually, something has to lead to the surface or close enough to it. I’m concerned I haven’t seen anyone around who might be taking care of the turbines and possible engines down here, but there has to be someone.
A voice stops me dead in my tracks. It sounds conversational, with more than one person speaking. Carefully, I make my way up this set of steps, until the claustrophobic hallway exits into another broader tunnel.
I don’t see anyone, but the set of voices goes quiet. For half a moment, I think Zane? Lalia? Yvonne? Then I tell myself not to be stupid. Still, I can’t quite shake the hope clinging to my chest that they’ve somehow found their way down to me. I manage not to say their names, helped rather aggressively by how difficult it is to breathe even while climbing slowly.
Tunnels go off in every direction from here, and I don’t know what to do. There isn’t an obvious set of stairs continuing up. I’m worried about speaking to anyone down here, but maybe if I find whoever’s talking, they’ll know a way up.
I creep a little farther out into the brighter section of the tunnel, and something cracks me in the back of the head.
It’s about as long a walk as the old man mentioned. I number the tunnels I pass, counting them against the ones he marked out on the map. Although, even if I take a wrong turn, by the layout scribbled on the paper I’m starting to get the picture that any tunnel will eventually lead to the center of the city if I keep my sense of direction even vaguely correct.
Given the state of me, that isn’t precisely a given, but I can try.
Each tunnel is about the same as the ones the old woman led me through—tall and damp and built of a mixture of stone and metal. Occasional moss clings to the ceiling or the walls, dripping stale water to the drainage below. It smells decidedly worse than the tunnel where those people had made their homes, but not as bad as that one I was sulking in back on the surface after we got my DNA tested by that woman—
I shake my head to clear my thoughts and regret it, leaning against the wall until the sudden and painful dizziness eases. Touching my fingers to my temple, I find crusted-over wounds, probably from falling, but I wouldn’t know. Even touching some of the places where metal protrudes from my face hurts more than I’d like to admit. It’s a miracle my ears are still working. My eyes too, now that I mention it. I don’t know what I’d do if those failed me.
I’ve sat down a few times already and don’t think I should do it again. Every time, it gets harder and harder to force my legs back under me. Who knows what types of people live down here, most probably not as friendly or at least as unbothered as those folks I just left behind.
The only blessing so far is that I haven’t run into anyone else who wanted to do me even a little bit of harm. I’m in no position to fight, and that little knife I have isn’t going to do me much good if I can barely stand upright under my own weight.
Where is Bat?
I know it’s selfish, but I wish one of the humans had fallen down here with me. It’s a stupid passing thought, because they certainly wouldn’t have survived, and I cast it aside as soon as I think it. But at least I wouldn’t be alone down here. I’ve had at least one of them at my back for so many months, whether it’s Zane or Lalia fighting alongside me, or Yvonne giving people grief when they make faces at me, that I feel the lack of their presence more than I should.
This is pathetic. I’ve lived without humans for ages, I shouldn’t be wishing for them to appear here. It’s only because I’m in pain and I know in the back of my mind that if I don’t get help, I might just die. I miss Audra too, but I’d take any of the humans that have been bugging me in my ship, perhaps even over her.
Despite my best efforts, I sit and put my head against my knee, knowing I’m feeling sorry for myself and unable to do much about it.
What do I do? Even when I get to the engines of this place, I’m starting to think I’ve vastly overestimated my ability to climb out of here once I find a way out. This has all been going so badly I don’t quite believe there will be some elevator I can just take up. What if any of the workers maintaining this place get hostile, or call the authorities on me? I can’t avoid Amerov numbers in this state. They’d figure out my bounty, drag me back to Captain…
Maybe I should just die down here.
I rub my eyes as gently as I can without hurting them and push myself back to my feet. If I give up or get too emotional, I’m never going to get out of here. I already decided I’m not going to die down in this awful place, and I’ll be damned if I figure out a way to get out only to give up on the walk there. Looking at the crinkled map in my hands, I estimate I’m maybe a third to a half of the way there—I’ll make it out fine.
* * *
I hear the turbines before I see them. Apparently, my ears are still working better than I imagined. Pausing in the tunnel, I cock my head, trying to determine the direction they’re coming from. I glance at the little hand-drawn map, struggling to keep track of where I am, my thoughts never in order for more than a moment.
I think it lines up with where I seem to be, but I follow the sound now, taking a left down a hallway. Wind buffets me, whipping my hair back, aggravating my eyes. I’m surprised this place is as close as it is to the little hallway where the people had chosen to settle. They seemed afraid of the turbines, irritated by the noise at least, enough that both the old woman and man wouldn’t lead me here. It is closer than I anticipated, and I’m grateful. I’m a walking corpse as it is.
Carefully, I creep out toward the light source at the end of the tunnel, leaning against the entrance. I’m not exactly expecting anyone to be down here, but I’m in no position to gamble.
The chamber is vast and empty, smelling no fresher than all the other musty, damp and dripping stone and metal of this place. A high grating of metal mesh reaches to the ceiling on the far end of the cavern. Something massive and shimmering whips just behind it, then again and again. The sound of it rattles me deep down in my bones, the distinct uncanny sensation of something too large and unreal to exist and be moving.
I stare at it for a moment, my thoughts too messed up to consider it properly, before leaning out the tunnel and, finding it empty, crossing the tall cavern.
The mesh separating the turbine from the rest of the tunnels is too thick for me to break through in my condition, but someone’s already done so—the corner where the metal meets the stones has been peeled back and cut just enough for a grown man to fit through.
Well, I’m definitely not the only one down here. At least, there have been people in the past.
The wind off the turbine is killing my ears, which in turn aggravates my already pounding headache. I squint up at it through the mesh. It isn’t precisely an engine. If it were, it would be going too fast for me to stand anywhere near. And all I see is the turbine itself, nothing resembling a giant ship’s engine. I don’t know if it’s further in or covered by the spinning blades or just doesn’t exist to begin with, but the cut wires are a good sign that if other people were here, there should be a way out.
Squeezing through the grating, I lean against it on the other side, as far from the spinning blades as possible. They may be going slow, but quick enough to kill me.
If I’m not already about to keel over dead.
Glancing off to my right, I see very little but darkness. To my left, there’s not much else, but I edge that way, taking myself a little farther from the spinning death blades. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can always circle back—if I truly have to.
Once the metal ends, it’s more stone walls, and by the time I’m level with the tips of the swirling blades, a rusty staircase leads up. I let out a long breath, relieved, then regret it immediately my chest hurts with the little movement. Leaning on the rough metal railing, I sit on the bottom step without meaning to, resting my temple against the wall. The pain in my arm and ribs and ankle has melded into a general agony in every limb I’m surprised I didn’t break anything else. Maybe I did. Maybe that’s why I’m starting to be certain I’m dying. I don’t want to die down in this place. I don’t want to die at all, but it’s always a constant possibility in the back of my mind. I’m tougher than most, and that’s kept me away from death enough I could repair myself or Bat could help.
Even if I manage to find the others, and get back to my ship, I’m not sure Bat can fix me.
I stare at a spot of moss on the floor, willing myself to get back up. I may very well die, but I sure as hell don’t want to do it down here. Not in this place. I want to see Bat again. I want to see my humans again.
I don’t know if they’ll be with him, but I want to see them again.
Something thumps far above me. I jump, grimacing. Glancing up the stairs behind me, I find nothing but more dim light, and no heat signatures. Probably just the turbine, but I shouldn’t stay here. I wonder how far down I am, and how far up I’m going to have to climb. No use thinking about it, I’ll only freak myself out—leaning against the railing, I push myself to my feet and head up. Every so slowly.
Another thump sounds somewhere above, and I squint upward, not daring to actually stop lest I can’t make my legs start up again. Still, I don’t see any heat signatures—other than the heat from the spinning turbine—but who knows how thick the walls are up here. Who knows how much damage I did to my eyes. Maybe I’m not seeing every temperature there is to see…
Stop panicking, Aaron.
Near the top of the turbine—looking down doesn’t give me much to see—there’s another platform and another set of stairs disappearing into the wall this time. It’s darker here, but not entirely pitch-black. Feeling unsettled, I put my hand in my pocket, curling my sore fingers around the handle of the little electric knife. I don’t want to actually hold it out, it’s fully possible I’ll drop it, and it’s the only weapon I have left. But it’s comforting to hold.
Poking my head into the next set of stairs, I find it empty as far as I can discern. Below me, the loud whoosh of the turbine makes my skin crawl. I gratefully step into the stone of the tunnel, where if one of the rusted old metal steps breaks, I won’t fall to my death.
I keep climbing.
Eventually, the stairs come to an intersection of smaller pathways, and I keep on the one going up. Eventually, something has to lead to the surface or close enough to it. I’m concerned I haven’t seen anyone around who might be taking care of the turbines and possible engines down here, but there has to be someone.
A voice stops me dead in my tracks. It sounds conversational, with more than one person speaking. Carefully, I make my way up this set of steps, until the claustrophobic hallway exits into another broader tunnel.
I don’t see anyone, but the set of voices goes quiet. For half a moment, I think Zane? Lalia? Yvonne? Then I tell myself not to be stupid. Still, I can’t quite shake the hope clinging to my chest that they’ve somehow found their way down to me. I manage not to say their names, helped rather aggressively by how difficult it is to breathe even while climbing slowly.
Tunnels go off in every direction from here, and I don’t know what to do. There isn’t an obvious set of stairs continuing up. I’m worried about speaking to anyone down here, but maybe if I find whoever’s talking, they’ll know a way up.
I creep a little farther out into the brighter section of the tunnel, and something cracks me in the back of the head.
