Chapter 21 #2
She’s saved from answering by our arrival at a short ladder; Verity is up it quickly, sliding aside a square covering and clambering out.
I use my revs to toss Jasa up through the opening—there definitely isn’t any petulance in the decision, nor, of course, do I take any pleasure from her surprised screech—and leap after her, not bothering with the rungs.
Verity glances at me, then nods as she sees my recognition of our surrounds. “Walk exactly where I walk.”
“Where are we?” Jasa asks the question after she finishes scrambling to her feet and glaring at me, which she does for the entire duration of my sliding the metal hatch into place, fastening it, and then hammering the mechanism until it’s thoroughly misshapen.
Probably only a few seconds of net benefit, if whatever monster’s chasing us broke through that first steel door, but I’ll take it.
“Themis warehouse.” I glance around. We’re in the midst of a massive grid of shelves, amongst which thousands of drones whizz, some moving at speeds which make them near imperceptible even to my rev-enhanced vision.
It’s a constant tornado of whining motors and disconcerting displacement of air, every pass feeling uncomfortably close to our heads.
“There are kilometres of underground storage down here. Mostly Basic food and DeGov materials.” I grab her shoulders and start marching her after Verity.
“Won’t there be people around? Sensors?” She’s annoyed at the physical handling, but doesn’t resist, apparently remembering what’s coming behind us.
Ahead, Verity chuckles, barely audible over the cacophony of passing drones.
“DeGov built most of these places from reconstituted tech,” I add by way of explanation.
“It slowed down the system too much, having to check for people. They have sensors on the entryways for the anti-theft systems, but that’s about it.
” At least, that used to be the case. I haven’t been in one of these since Oceanus.
“So these drones. If we get in the way…”
“Don’t get in the way.”
In front of me, she shrugs my grip from her shoulders, and begins walking exactly where Verity walks.
We move in a single file for five minutes but the pace is glacial, Verity clearly starting and stopping based on some memorised pattern.
We’ve turned several corners, can’t see the hatch through which we entered, and my revs itch at every blindingly fast flyby.
Annoying under most circumstances. Potentially disastrous if it masks the approach of whatever’s after us.
“Here.” Verity motions to a container. Easily more than double the size of the one that Jasa and I took to Themis.
“This says biohazard,” Jasa notes. “And explosive.”
“Means that drones have to move it more slowly.” She starts punching in a keypad code as I keep my gaze roving the shelves behind us, watching for any sign of pursuit. “A lot fewer broken bones.”
“But what if DeGov registered it as an empty container at some point, and decided to fill it?”
Verity bio-verifies and wrenches the door open, peering in as both Jasa and I flinch. “Looks like we’re okay.” I turn and we both glare at her as she smirks. “DeGov doesn’t bother—”
My revs prickle again, and I half pause in anticipation of another blast of air from a passing drone.
Jasa gives a small sigh, and sways, and looks down with a confused frown at the Ceramic that’s now protruding from her stomach.
Verity chokes off whatever she was saying as I hurl myself forward, every rev active as I sweep them both through the opening and into the darkness.
Pain blooms in a line along my shoulder, the second Ceramic slamming into the far wall and clattering to the floor.
I haul the door closed, and it seals just after a third white blade comes ludicrously close to slipping through the narrow remaining slit.
“How long till we’re collected?” A yellow light snaps on above, illuminating the space. Four-by-two metres. A table, couch, small cupboard to the side. Even a holo. I take it in at a glance, quickly on my knees by Jasa, whose breath is coming in wheezing gasps. I move her carefully to the couch.
“Ten seconds from the door shutting.” Verity’s face is sickly in the coloured light. “Was it a bio?”
“Cushions,” murmurs Jasa hazily. “See, Azure? Some people think ahead.”
“I didn’t see anything.” I reply to Verity, stripping away the already sodden cloth from around Jasa’s wound. I let my voice convey how concerning that is to me. I don’t care how careful they were being: I should have spotted anyone, or anything, close enough to throw a Ceramic. “Medical supplies?”
Verity is already moving over to the cupboard. “Just stitch spray.” She tosses me the small bottle. Shaken, but still in control.
“That will help, but she needs an AID. Soon.” There’s the slightest tremor and then our container is moving. Verity was right, thankfully. One hell of a lot smoother than our last ride. I sponge away the blood and apply the spray. Jasa shudders slightly at the sensation. “Where are we going?”
“The Outs.”
I grimace. “Can we change that?”
“Maybe.”
I meet her steady, cool gaze. “I know. I know, Verity. I’m sorry about this. But trust me, letting her die won’t make things easier or better.”
Verity continues staring, then sways over to the cupboard again and brings out a pad. “So where do you—”
There’s a thump. Not that noticeable against the rocking of our journey, but enough. My revs, still taut, scream.
“Move!” I dive at Verity. An arm punches through the wall next to her head. One motion. Impossible; the impact would break even my bones. But there it is. A hand, snaking through. Grasping, snagging Verity’s long, flowing hair. Yanking her backward.
I snatch up the bloodied Ceramic from the floor and fling it past Verity’s ear, digging desperately into my pocket even as it’s in the air.
The blade lodges in the attacker’s sleeved forearm, though doesn’t slam it back or make it flinch the way I would have expected.
It doesn’t matter. I’m flicking the switch on my Plasma.
Lunging. Swinging. I swing down with all my momentum, all my rev-enhanced strength.
I swing down hard.
The white-hot knife connects just above the wrist. There’s a shocking moment of resistance, a heartbeat where I think that maybe whatever nightmare is clinging on outside might genuinely just be invulnerable.
But then there’s a strangled sound above even the intruding din of the warehouse, and the hand is dangling, still clutching Verity’s hair, and the stump I just separated it from is spraying arterial blood, and thrashing, and then withdrawing as it follows a dark form toppling briefly past the small opening.
With my cogs slammed on the way they are, though, I get a look at the attacker’s face as they fall away. Not a good look. But good enough.
“Azure?” It’s all happened in moments and Verity’s perception is finally catching up, stumbling away from the hole and then standing very still. She shudders, takes a long, shaky breath, and then turns with dignified grace to show me her back. “If you could, please?”
I dazedly disengage the severed hand tangled in her locks. Red blood. Five fingers. No different to mine. “You’re going to need a shower,” I murmur hollowly, examining it. Still trying to process what I just saw.
Verity shudders again, though this one is delicate, more showy. “Or a haircut. How did it… What?” She’s noticed my expression.
I hold up the dripping, severed left hand. The cross-like scar on it livid.
Then I hold up my own, exactly matching left hand next to it.
There’s a long silence.
On the couch, Jasa makes a painful-sounding wheeze. “Azure?”
I finally look at her. There’s something scared in her eyes as she looks at the hand. Scared, and sad, and somehow terribly resigned.
“You’ll still look after me, won’t you, dear?”
She slumps, unconscious.