by Jade Lee
"No way!"
"You said it was close to where my people are kept."
"This is a rescue mission. Period. No killing unless absolutely necessary. And no baby slaughter."
"You will tell me where the Tarveen children are, or I will be forced to search the area alone. Either way, I will find it." He didn't put his hands on his hips or cross his arms over his chest. He didn't expand his chest or do any other of the typical body language of a puffed up man. He stood as he always stood. Like a warrior—composed, aware, and lethally uncompromising.
She knew she wouldn't be able to dissuade him this time. She shook her head, starting to walk away—not in any particular direction, just away from the two most frustrating people on the face of the earth. "You're crazy. You're both crazy."
Daken wouldn't let her escape. He grabbed her arm, turning her back to face him. "You will show me where the nursery is." It wasn't a question.
"What are you going to do there?"
"Ginsen made a firebomb. I will set it off, and then I will run."
Never had she been more furious than at this moment. After all they'd been through, after all their discussions and agreements, they were back to the same thing. "All you care about is killing the Tarveen. You don't care who you risk—me, Steve, yourself—you don't care. Just so long as you can slaughter the Tarveen."
"That's right, Jane," he said, his words like brutal slaps in her face. "It's all I've ever wanted."
"After all we've been to each other, after all we've shared, how can you still go and do this?" Her voice shook with her intensity.
He drew himself up, his voice dripping with scorn. "When did I ever give you the impression I was ruled by my groin? You do not dictate to me, woman."
"How dare you," she breathed, her anger burning like a hot dagger in her heart. "As if I'd buy your cooperation with my body."
He sneered, matching her anger with a coldness all his own. "This is what I will do, Jane, with or without your help. I will rescue my people, the Tarveen food source," he spat his disgust on the ground. "Then I will kill off their children. Then, I will take Steve and an army, and I will exterminate them once and for all."
Jane felt the change within her. It was like the flip of a switch, and with it her blood cooled, her fists loosened into hands, and her anger shifted to a icy hatred. "I'll stop you," she said, her voice low and threatening. "The Council won't help you."
"It doesn't matter. If I have to sell everything I own, I will get the soldiers I need."
Jane glared at him, focusing all her scorn on what he intended to do now, leaving the future for later.
"You'll be slaughtering babies, Daken. A fine and noble deed for a warrior king."
"I think so."
She watched him step gingerly past the concrete, rooting around for the secret entrance. Behind him, Steve hesitated, his glance hopping between herself and his new champion. In the end, he chose Daken, and Jane felt his betrayal in every inch of her body.
Daken had her.
He had neatly manipulated her into helping to kill an entire race. Babies! He was going to burn babies!
She could stop him. She could turn around right now. Even if they found the entrance, they'd quickly get lost in the mazes of corridors and ventilating tubes, but she couldn't leave Daken and Steve to die any more than she could abandon the people trapped below waiting to be eaten by the Tarveen.
She had to rescue them. But once on the main floor, it was an easy step to the nursery. He just needed the right corridor, and then he would torch a room full of babies.
Jane felt sick to her stomach. How could this be the man she loved? Was he so consumed with the need for vengeance he had lost everything else? Love, compassion, understanding, everything? He'd told her the answer. Yes, he'd said. All he cared about was killing the Tarveen. Her feelings, her concerns, her love meant less than nothing.
From behind the concrete block, Daken's voice came at her, each word a grating blow to her heart. "Are you coming? Or do we go without you?"
"You'll die without me leading you. There are thousands of tunnels down there."
"Then we die."
She stepped around the debris, unable to deny the suicidal determination in both of their eyes. Jane swallowed the choking agony in her throat. At the same moment, she pushed away all her emotions. She had a job to do. Whatever else happened, she would deal with it as it came.
Although in her heart, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop Daken. And if he went ahead and killed all those children, she'd never be able to love him again.
"Move aside," she said, her voice as flat as her broken heart. "I'll lead."
Daken lifted his head. "I lead. We don't know what's in this tunnel, and you can't defend yourself any more than a kitten."
"And you can't swing a sword in there." She kicked aside a large rock, partly exposing a dented metal shaft about the size of a small sewer grate.
Daken didn't respond as he crossed to the remaining stone. Passing off the backpack to Steve, he slid down into the shaft to get better leverage against the stone. It took all three of them, but they managed to roll it away. Then Jane dusted the dirt from her hands and tensed to jump into the grate first, taking the lead.
But Daken was gone, having already dropped down the rest of the way and turned the first corner.
"Damned bloody fool!" she spit after him. Then with a sigh, she prepared to drop in, but Steve stopped her. He touched her shoulder. It was a brief brush, but from Steve, who hated to touch or be touched by anyone, it was like the clang of a gong.
Jane looked up at him, settling herself on her bottom with her legs dangling into the shaft. "What is it? Are you scared?"
He shook his head, and Jane squelched a tremor of disappointment. She had hoped she could still find an excuse to send him back to the boat, but the boy, or man according to Daken, wasn't interested in himself. Instead, he solemnly reached into his shirt and pulled something out. At first she didn't recognize it, but then she felt her eyes pull wide with shock.
The dull gray metal of the Beretta gleamed in the sunshine.
"Where did you get that?"
Steve's only response was to offer her the weapon, butt first. She took it quickly, noticed it was correctly loaded with the safety on, then anchored it in her belt.
"This is a dangerous weapon, Steve. Not a toy..." her words trailed away. It was amazing what she could read off his face when he wanted her to. What she saw now told her he knew exactly what the gun was and probably how it worked. He'd brought it to her because she was the one qualified to use it.
Jane sighed. "I don't like guns. They kill people. All I want to do is help this world live in peace, and yet here I am, packing a Beretta, about to drop into a hole so I can help the man I used to love blow up a bunch of babies." She looked up at his young, too wise face. "Does that seem right to you?"
He didn't look away, but neither did he venture an opinion. In the end, she had no choice but to begin. Without a backward glance, she shoved off the ground and dropped into the shaft.
She blinked in the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Seconds later, a glowing ball appeared above her, illuminating Steve behind and Daken ahead. It was a magelight, no doubt created by Steve, and it bobbed along beside them as they moved.
"Where have you been? We're in enemy territory, you know." Daken's acerbic comments cut through the silence.
"They're not my enemies," she shot back just to irritate him.
"They will be soon," he grumbled as Steve joined them at the junction of two shafts. Then Daken noticed the pistol shoved into her belt. She expected him to comment, but he didn't, except to send a piercing look at Steve. Then he turned his attention forward. "Which way?"
Jane gestured to the left. "This is an old ventilating shaft, hopefully still intact. If not, there are also huge pipes, some for power cables, others for the heavy equipment. Don't ask me why the Tarveen haven't found it. As far as I ca
n tell, there are miles of tunnels here crisscrossing the entire complex."
Daken spanned the opening she indicated then ducked in, his voice coming back to her in a hushed whisper. "It's too narrow for the Tarveen. They have very wide, very hard middles. It's part of their body armor. Even the smallest couldn't squeeze in here."
Jane looked at the tube. An obese man could squeeze through it. It would be very tight, but still manageable. Once again she struggled to picture a Tarvite, adding a huge middle and dark body armor. It didn't fit, and as she tried to pull an image from Dr. Beavesly's memories, it skittered away from her.
Jane sighed, pushing the problem aside as she ducked into the shaft to follow Daken. It was narrow, but manageable, though she was grateful she didn't suffer from claustrophobia. She glanced back at Steve to see he managed with annoying ease. Even her heavy backpack didn't seem to bother the boy. He slipped along using his extra speed and mobility to draw a long line of glowing, neon yellow. She didn't know where he got the pen. Another wizard toy, she supposed. Like a huge highlighter, it would make their return path very, very clear.
It was Daken she felt sorry for. His shoulders were indeed wedged with almost no maneuverability. His arms were stretched in front of him, while his fingers dragged him along on his belly, scooping up all the dirt and dust of two centuries in front of him. He kept his dagger in his teeth, but even that didn't stop the long stream of muttered curses.
It was enough to make her smile.
They encountered minor problems, of course. It seemed the deeper tunnels served as hiding places for small burrowing animals. They constantly pushed aside rodent nests and fought angry squirrels. Plus the tube was cracked in some areas, letting dirt spill in. Fortunately for them, the animals kept the route relatively clear.
The one major obstruction was a completely collapsed area. Daken chipped away at the packed dirt for a moment, but it was soon apparent they couldn't pass through there.
It took her a few minutes, but Jane was able to think of a different route bypassing the damaged area. Before long, they'd kicked out a filth-strewn grate and peered into what once was the main drag of an automobile assembly line.
The stench overwhelmed them, rising into their faces, carrying images of blood and rotting meat. There was almost no light except for Steve's magelight. Far below, she thought she caught the occasional flicker of torchlight, but that was all.
What struck her the most were the sounds. Mournful, pitiful wails. Screeching, agonizing shrieks. And more eerie, the occasional sound of a child's laughter. The whole cacophony assaulted her ears without relief, and she cringed away from it. Daken didn't seem to notice it, though his face was now like chiseled granite in the emotionless mask of a warrior going about his task. With a flick of his wrist, Daken gestured for Steve to send the magelight forward. It was pitifully weak against the cavernous gloom, but it did illuminate a long steel girder probably running the length of the assembly line. Jane tried to peer around, perhaps get some bearings with regard to what machinery was still intact, not for use, but as scaffolding.
Daken didn't bother. He angled his feet through the grate and slipped a heavy rope over one shoulder and across his torso.
"What are you doing?" Jane whispered in alarm.
"I'm going to swing over to that metal thing down there." The magelight zipped over to the girder. It was actually part of a huge support system for the various machinery used for manufacturing cars. She had no doubt it would support his weight. The grid looked intact and stable, but it was incredibly narrow for a half leap, half drop across what seemed to her a black chasm of death.
"You're crazy. That's like playing leap frog across Niagara Falls."
"I don't know of this Niag—"
"A big, deadly drop," she snapped.
"There's no better way," he returned. "There's nothing to tie the rope to here." Then before she could stop him, he slipped through the hole, swung out on one arm, then let go. She would have screamed if she hadn't been holding her breath. He landed flat across the girder, safely, if not gracefully.
"Damn, suicidal fool," she muttered to herself.
Daken immediately secured the rope around the beam, kicking it over until they heard the end hit the floor. "Stay there while I get something to use as a bridge," he called.
"Do I look stupid?" she shot back. "I'm not leaping across there."
Daken ignored her, focusing instead on Steve, who still held the backpack. "Toss me a torch."
Steve rooted one out and neatly flung it to Daken. Seconds later, the magelight spun through the tip, igniting it while bathing Daken's face in a soft white glow. Then Daken disappeared, dancing along the steel girders, his torch bobbing beside him.
He returned with a long, slimy plank made out of plastic. Jane didn't know what it was or where he'd gotten it, she was just grateful it survived the ages, and it seemed sturdy enough to support their weight. All three of them anchored it as best they could, setting one end in the lip of the I-beam, the other up into the shaft.
Then it was time to slide down, without a safety belt or even rope guards. And here she'd thought time travel was the most excitement a person could expect in one lifetime.
Steve went first, not because she waved him forward, but because he got impatient waiting for her to get up her nerve. He lay down on his belly, his arms and legs wrapping around either side, then just pushed himself off.
It was terrifying, but when Daken pulled him onto the girder, Steve's face was split with an excited grin.
"He thinks it's a carnival ride," she muttered. Then, unwilling to be shown up by a kid, she took a deep breath and mimicked his position. She hadn't even pushed off when she started sliding, picking up speed until she landed against the I-beam with a painful thump. Then Daken was there, hauling her up to stand while she bit back the pain radiating bolts of misery throughout her whole body.
"That hurt," she grumbled.
"Get stronger thigh muscles," returned Daken, his expression brightening as he took more and more control of their situation. "It'll slow your descent."
"Thanks," she shot back. "I'll remember that if I ever want to come back to this nightmare."
He merely flashed her a grin, then without another word, dropped below the I-beam, wrapped a leg in the rope, and slid down. Daken apparently had all the thigh muscles he needed for a steady, controlled descent.
She, on the other hand, would need God to help her or put something nice and cushy at the bottom because there was no way she was that strong. She started to grab the rope, but Steve stopped her. He gestured for her to hold out her hands and then quickly wrapped strips around her palms to prevent rope burn. With a little start of surprise, she realized the strips were torn out of his new tunic.
"Thank you, Steve," she said gravely. "I promise I'll buy you another one once we get back to Toedo."
He gave her a cocky grin, then supported her as best he could while she grabbed onto the rope. Like with the plastic slide, there wasn't really time to think. She was moving before she could even breathe, and eternally grateful for Steve's homemade gloves.
As it was, she zipped right down, and if it weren't for Daken catching her, she would have brained herself right there on the dirty factory floor.
Steve, of course, came down like he was part monkey, which given this population, was entirely possible. Even so, Jane began to feel totally inadequate for this little rescue mission.
"Where to now?" Daken asked from beside her.
Jane looked up from where she squinted into the darkness. "What?"
"Where to now?" Daken repeated, his annoyance making his words sharp. "Where are my people?"
Jane lifted her arms. "Here."
Daken looked around. "Here? In this filth?" He kicked at a rancid piece of meat, and together they watched it roll into a fetid pool of water.
Jane sighed. "This place is huge. I think it's a storage area of sorts." She pointed at piles of rotting fruit, another of som
e cured meat. All the different things the Tarveen must have scavenged from villages because they clearly didn't cultivate their own food. "Your people are probably hiding, doing their best not to become today's lunch."
Even in the murky light, Jane could see Daken's muscles twitch. "Those sounds, the crying, those are from my people? Hiding like rats in the darkness?"
She could see the pain etch its own horror into his face. She knew he thought about the men of Toedo or perhaps others he'd known. All strong fighters defending their homes. That they would be reduced to the sobbing wails that surrounded them was more than sad. It was a crime.
"Come on," she said. "Let's find them."
"How?" asked Daken softly, turning in a wide circle as he scanned the gloom. "How can I be heard over this din?"
Jane was also thinking the same thing when Steve's magelight exploded into a floodlight. One moment they squinted at shadows. The next, everything was buried in a whiteness so bright, she closed her eyes. When she finally ventured to open them in a squint, she saw more than half the entire assembly illuminated in the harsh lighting. From floor to ceiling, in nests and alcoves throughout the machinery, she picked out dark ovals of faces. Most were shielded by stringy hair, some were half covered in blood.
But all were silent.
The hush fell over them like the muting layers of dirt over a grave. Jane fought the chills creeping up her spine.
Only Daken seemed to keep his cool. He drew himself up like the king he was and spoke loud and clear into the room. His voice echoed up and down the passageway, reverberating in the old metal, echoing off the network of beams and rotting cables.
"My people. I am Daken, your King. I've come to rescue you. We have made a tunnel free of the Tarveen. You must come with me now, and I will lead you outside."
All along the rafters and the beams, the word "outside" spun and echoed around them. It was repeated in hushed whispers by a thousand voices until it became a wave rolling over them, crashing around them. Everywhere she looked, Jane saw movement. Creeping dirty bodies running along beams, crawling out from under filth too nauseating to think of, even sliding out of niches in the wall.