by Kir Lukovkin
“What're we going to do?” he whispered.
“Whatever we have to. Push him back and rush them.”
The patrolman appeared in the doors again, but did not come out.
“Come in,” he offered indifferently, stepping back inside.
Rick did not even have the time to act surprised. They entered. The room was rather large, with a window occupying the whole width of the opposite wall and a table in the corner, where a Committee member was writing something on a scroll. Another stood by the window, through which another room could be seen, where the barbarians were sitting tied to chairs, with two inquisitors working hard on them and striking them around the heads. The Committee member finished writing and got up from the table, putting his hands behind his back and approaching Rick and Ahmed.
“We've been waiting for you for a while. Welcome,” he invited them to come closer to the window.
Everything looked like they had been forewarned. The accomplices slowly moved towards the window. They heard the sound of a charging baton behind them. Rick would not have mistaken that sound for anything else.
“Rick, thank you for your hard work. You have really proven yourself,” the Committee member slapped him on the shoulder. “Warden Croesus recommended you as a very talented young man, but I never suspected that you were capable of this. Bringing this barbarian here without any extra hassle. I'm impressed. And what about you?” he turned to Ahmed. “Here you are, enjoy seeing your friends.”
But Ahmed was looking at Rick, not at the glass.
“I don't know what he is talking about,” Rick said.
“You lied to me,” Ahmed replied.
“Oh, well,” the Committee member said. “What an uncomfortable moment. Don't beat yourself up about it, Rick, this lie was for the good of the Commune.”
“What lie? I am telling the truth!”
“Of course, Rick. The more convincing the lie, the more it looks like truth. A lie becomes the truth when you truly believe in it. You were so convincing to him, because you believed your own lie.”
“You bastard!” Rick shouted at the Committee member, clenching his fists.
The smile on the face of the Committee member was replaced with a predatory scowl.
“Be careful, young man. I will forgive you the first time. But know your place in future!” he loudly slapped Rick around the face. “Remember, your whole pointless life, your whole body and soul belong to the Commune because it gave you your home, food, clothing and warmth. You should be happy that you were born here, and not beyond the barrier, like these animals. You whelp, you should spend every second of your life thanking the Committee and the Warden for your blissful childhood and youth. And you should fall to your knees in gratitude for becoming a patrolman and being worthy of the great honor of serving the Commune with a weapon in your hands! So think who you open your mouth to!”
Rick was looking at the floor, burning with the fire of hatred. He felt as if his face was inflamed, especially the cheek that had been struck, he felt that his ears were in flames and that his heart was hammering in his chest.
“You still have a lot to learn. And the first thing is to understand that you always have to sacrifice something for the greater good. You don't want the people of the Commune to die, tormented by cold and starvation, do you? The brothers and sisters of the Commune believe and hope that the Machine God will help them, and the Committee which channels his will shall save them. They cannot be disappointed. The Commune could die as a result of your actions. You must understand! These barbarians are our chance to find the divine flame, their lives are not worth a piece of stale bread in comparison to the life of the lowest cripple in the Omicron sector! Don't forget about your sister, either. Decide what is more important to you—her life, or the well-being of these... beasts.” The Committee member turned to Ahmed, “And you, barbarian, look at your friends and prepare yourself.”
Rick growled and punched the Committee member on the nose with his fist. It was a solid punch—the hours spent training in his free time were not in vain. The nose cracked like a nut. The Committee member howled. A bolt of electric lightning hit Rick's back with a hiss. But the guardsman's baton could not have hissed that loudly and Rick understood that something else had happened to the baton's discharge. A moment later, Ahmed caught him to stop him from falling over and shoved an unusual shell-shaped mask onto his face—he had one just like it on his own face. The room rapidly filled with clouds of caustic mist, drowning the agitated people inside. The guard behind opened the door and staggered out, but then fell on the floor after only taking three steps. The gas was seeping into the corridor outside. The Committee member and his assistant had already collapsed into unconsciousness. Ahmed and Rick hid behind the door. The shouts of running patrolmen could be heard from the corridor, but as soon as they reached the room, the shouts turned to groans and the thud of falling bodies.
“Sleep gas,” Ahmed winked, “It's great!”
“Thank you,” Rick replied, “I did not lie.”
“Later. We need to free my people.”
The torturers in the interrogation cell saw that something was amiss. As soon as they opened the door, Rick released all of his anger on them, masterfully laying about with his baton. The first of them fell, struck down without too much noise, but the second started shouting, desperately fighting back and throwing everything that he could get his hands on at Rick. Once he caught him and it was all over, Rick suddenly understood that he had just knocked out a strong adult man.
Ahmed put breathing masks on his friends. It was painful to look at them—the inquisitors had worked hard, marking their faces with numerous beatings, most of which were suffered by the bearded man. Rick draped him over his shoulders, while Ahmed was helping the girl get up from the chair.
“We need to get out of here!” Ahmed shouted.
“They are about to raise the alarm.”
“Where do we run to?”
Rick brought the sector plan up in his head—the exits from the corridors were blocked. There was no way they could run in that direction.
“Downwards,” Rick commanded. “We'll work it out once we get there.”
A thick cloud of gas filled the corridor and anyone that got caught inside fell to the floor unconscious. But the effect of the gas could not last forever. Rick tried to go towards the stairway, but he heard voices coming from that direction.
“We're trapped! The second stairway is too far away, and they will take us by the time we get there.”
“Then let's descend using the elevator,” Ahmed offered.
“Using what?”
“I see. Where is the long vertical tunnel?”
Rick thought frantically.
“The cable?”
The shouts of the patrolmen that were hurrying towards them were coming closer and closer.
“Yes, yes! Where is it?”
The escapees ran towards the open elevator shaft. The elders said that the cable had once worked by favor of the Machine God—it was a cabin, that moved up and down. But now, it had to be moved using mechanical force. The cable was only used when heavy weights had to be transported.
The gas had almost cleared. Patrolmen could be made out at the far end of the corridor—swearing terribly, they were waiting and were prepared to make chase. Ahmed opened a panel by the doors and quickly dialed a combination of buttons on the small altar. Something started to thrum in the mouth of the shaft. The altar blinked with green lights.
“It worked!” Ahmed breathed out.
“How did you manage that?” Rick asked with surprise, “Do you know how to talk to the Machine God?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
The patrolmen kept coming closer.
“Do you have any more of this magical gas?”
“Yes, one last capsule, but we should keep it for later!”
Rick thought of something to hold back their pursuers. He stuck the baton into one of th
e holes which covered the corridors and walls on every level, switched on the charge and fixed it in place. The baton crackled with electricity, chaotically throwing lightning bolts upwards. They reflected off the walls and ceiling and branched through the air at unbelievable angles. Rick directed the baton towards the pursuing patrolmen so that there was a barrier of dancing violet charges in their way.
“Rick!” Ivon shouted at him, his face contorted in anger. He was still far away. “What are you doing?”
Rick did not reply.
“This is rebellion! Stop, before it's too late!”
Rick quietly stepped back towards the cable. The cabin had just arrived, and Ahmed was dragging his friends inside. The bearded man had got himself together and could now stand on his own two feet. Ivon kept imploring Rick to obey, but the escapees had already jumped into the cabin and Ahmed pushed a button. The elevator started to move downwards.
The doors were open everywhere. Levels flashed by them, and every corridor could be seen as well as everyone that was there. The icon of the Machine God was blinking with sigils at eye level. Rick guessed what it meant. The first five levels were left above them, the corridors were well lighted, clean and well decorated. The people there walked around in golden clothing. The levels of the fourth circle came next, which were not as well-kept, but still well lighted. People walked around wearing green here. The people of the third level, which was where his room was located, wore all red and the lights were on at half power here. Then the elevator entered the twilight zone—past the residential blocks of the workmen, who moved through the corridors as shadows, wearing all black. It seemed like the corridors were full of fireflies, because of the handheld wind-up torches that the workers used to light their way. And finally, the elevator passed the second circle of life, where the young generation only wore yellow overalls. It was a little lighter here, but not even half as bright as it was above. However, the cabin did not stop.
“Where are we going?” Rick asked, as he returned the filter mask to Ahmed.
“To the very first floor of your sector,” he replied.
“But there's no way out of there!”
“There is a way out,” the girl piped up. She had composed herself and sat on the floor in the corner of the cabin. “Every sector has an exit above and below, to the maintenance floors.”
It was almost completely dark again. Only the orange dots of the lights occasionally glittered on the walls. The levels of the last circle of life were like the bottom of a huge and murky quagmire, with lights flashing and going out immediately here and there along the corridors.
“Who lives here?” asked Ahmed, with surprise.
“Those that have left the fifth circle. Old people. As well as the sick and crippled.”
The elevator came to a stop. Ahmed turned on his torch. The ray of light pierced the darkness, catching huddled bodies. The living covered their eyes with their hands, while the dead lay along the walls, as if they were forgotten things. The girl and the bearded barbarian also switched on their torches. The escapees slowly walked on.
“How can you keep them here?” the girl indignantly asked.
“They have lived through their time. Would you keep a broken knife in your kitchen?” Rick calmly parried.
“A person is not a knife!”
“Enough!” Ahmed cut them short. “Enough arguing. How much time do we have before they get down below?”
“It is always easier to go downwards. Five or six minutes. We still have time to go above to get into the lower corridor.”
“That's not an option. Look at our wounded! They can barely walk!”
Pushing the bearded man aside, Kyoto jumped out in front of them.
“Rick! What are you doing here?”
“I am a criminal now. There's no time to explain,” he replied. “The barbarians say that there's a way out of here.”
“That true!”
“What? You knew?”
The old man smiled happily, “Of course. Let's go!”
He took the escapees to a side corridor. They turned into another one there, which was much lower and without any lighting, so full of various junk that they had to walk in line. Kyoto opened two or three doors. The floor squelched under their feet and water dripped from the ceiling.
“The distribution station,” the old man said.
“In every sector,” the girl confirmed. “Are you an engineer?”
“Nope. A simple plumber.”
The small corridor took them into an oval space which was two levels high. The whole ceiling and walls were covered with intertwined pipes, both large and small. Some of them continued further, while others were connected to huge tanks that stood on raised platforms. The smell was revolting—Rick would have happily put on a filter mask, but there was no time for that. A weak and diffuse light shone from somewhere below the ceiling and dust motes danced in the air.
“Here!” Kyoto pointed at a manhole on the floor.
Rick tried to turn the locking ring, but did not manage to do it. A thick layer of rust was left on his palms.
“It's stuck.”
Ahmed and the old man helped him, and they pushed the ring together, barely managing to move it.
“It hasn't been opened for too long,” Rick stomped on the manhole. “The metal has fused...”
“Try and use this as a lever,” the bearded barbarian threw them a thick steel pin.
Ahmed grabbed it and put it through the ring, bracing the end of the pin on the manhole, pressing down on it—this time, the ring creaked and gave. Things went quicker after that, and soon, the escapees stood above a black hole. Ahmed shone the torch down there.
“It's not that high here, but it's totally dark.”
“We're going down,” the girl slid down the hole first.
The bearded man carefully jumped down after her. Ahmed lingered a moment.
“Thank you,” he told the old man.
“You shouldn't.”
“I'm waiting for you below,” Ahmed nodded at Rick and disappeared into the darkness. The lights of the torches could be seen flashing there already.
“Well, then,” Kyoto encouraged. “Jump.”
Rick was lost for words, “But... I'm from the Commune.”
“You are no longer a man of the Commune. You know that yourself.”
“And what about Aurora?”
“I will look after her. She will be safe. I will look after myself as well, I have enough experience to deal with this. While your main task is to find the source of the divine fire and to save us all.”
“Jump! What are you waiting for?” they called from below.
Rick looked down into the hole—the Expanse awaited below, full of mysteries and uncertainty.
But the decision had been made.
“Until next time.”
“Bye, Rick. There's a bolt on the other side which blocks the manhole from below.”
Rick slid below, with a last glance at Kyoto. The old man said “Come back—with your shield or on it.”
Then, he slammed the manhole cover shut after him.
8
EVEN THE SMALLEST and quietest sounds reverberated loudly in the emptiness. Judging by the distant echoes, the escapees had entered a very large space, but its true size was hidden by the darkness, which could not be completely dissipated even by the light of the torch. However, the darkness did gradually start giving way as their eyes adapted to it. The escapees walked a couple of hundred steps until they came upon a wall. Ahmed started to methodically examine it, moving to the right. The girl, who was called Maya, as Rick found out, moved to the left.
Rick and the bearded barbarian called Reiner were left to wait together. Rick crouched and vacantly stroked the floor with his fingers. The surface had an unusual feel to it—it was rough to the touch and not as smooth as the walls and floors of the Commune.
“Plascrete,” Reiner told him. “An extremely durable, but light material.”
�
��How do you know?”
Reiner was twice as old as his young companions. The inquisitors had turned his whole face into a livid bruise. He did not look too good.
“I studied the specs.” Suddenly realizing, he added, “You probably don't know what that is, do you? It's a document that contains the main characteristics of a material, its weight, mass, chemical composition, density... Do you know how to read?”
“No,” Rick admitted, thankful to the darkness for hiding his embarrassment.
“Ah, then that's what you needed to start with. Don't they teach you to read or write in your Commune?”
“Few have that right. The chosen ones.”
Reiner grimaced and gingerly touched his side.
“You're good at beating people up though. Looks like one or two ribs have been broken. It's painful to breathe.”
“I am no healer...”
“Even if you were a doctor, you couldn't help me.”
“I found it!” Maya shouted. “A door.”
They hurried over to the girl, who was carefully reading the signs on a large double shuttered black and yellow door with a red circle right in the middle. Rick saw familiar symbols and glyphs, but they were combined in unusual ways. The largest glyph was “II”.
“It leads to the cap of the second aeon. Can you feel it?”
They all leaned on the door. There was a strong draft coming from the gaps. The wind was howling. The touch of cold could be felt, a true frost which would not just turn water to ice, but turn a warm blooded man into a frozen mummy. Back in the Commune these frosts were considered to be the most terrible as they engulfed the sector for two or three weeks.
“That means that we are going the right way,” Reiner declared tiredly. “Before we move on, I propose having a break for a couple of hours.”
“They took our things with all of our food supplies,” Maya frowned at Rick. “All of our packs of concentrates, medicines, equipment and maps!”
“I still have some water,” Ahmed added and took out a flask. They all shared the water among themselves.
Maya worriedly examined the bearded barbarian, and even though the pain was obvious on her face she calmed down a little. The escapees sat down along the wall, too exhausted by pain and stress to try to sleep. The girl was grimly going through the contents of her pockets. Reiner was calmly sitting and staring in front of him. Ahmed was rearranging the contents of his backpack. Rick lay his combat knife on the floor in front of himself and closed his eyes for a second. He opened them and took another look at the weapon. The darkness suddenly burst into his consciousness, taking away his body, arms and legs, taking the world and the passage time away from him, replacing it with itself. A quiet conversation came from somewhere far away.