Reunification

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  Chapter Eight

  Praise be to the Old Gods! This passageway—while hardly as fresh smelling as a field of strawberry flowers—did not smell nearly as raw and smelly as the disposal pit we had been in. It smelled old, however, as if it had not been exposed to fresh air in decades, but the air was much more breathable and not nearly as lethal as the stink—not air, for that was an insult to actual air—back in that pit. Of course, our own stink filled up the hall, but it was not quite as bad as the earlier chamber had been.

  Yet, while this air was indeed far more breathable, the passageway itself was even narrower than that place. Not only that, but metal pipes ran along the walls and ceiling, pipes which appeared as though they had not been used in years. 'Twas hard to tell their exact age, however, because there was so little light to see by, and mine energy knife did not glow quite so much to let me see.

  Though it mattered little to me how old this place was or who had built it. To I, this place was merely a possible path to freedom, perhaps even a path to my sister, who was still somewhere in Xeeon. Granted, once I left, I would probably need to return to Dela first and report back to Sir Lockfried, but I was already planning another trip back to Xeeon, even though I did not yet know when that trip would be.

  Resita, on the other hand, was running his sticky, stinky fingers along the pipes, as if by feeling them they might reveal their secrets. He behaved much like a little child who is told that the Gift Man is not really real but was unsure whether to believe that or not, which somewhat concerned me, as I did not want him to be unaware of our environment in case this place turned out to be more dangerous than it appeared.

  “This place …” Resita sounded mystified. “I don't understand.”

  “What is there to understand?” I asked, annoyed by his confusion. “'Tis a mysterious passageway, true, but as it will likely lead us to freedom, I care not to uncover its secrets. Nor do I believe in questioning the luck of Walnak, not when it is so freely given like this.”

  “You don't find this strange at all?” said Resita. “I can't even tell what this place was supposed to be used for. It looks like a maintenance tunnel to me, but why is it abandoned and how come no one in the Foundation ever told me about it?”

  “Perhaps no one ever knew about it,” I said. “After all, if ye did not know of this place's existence, then I consider it likely that your allies did not, either.”

  “I guess so, but it just seems strange that no one discovered this before us,” said Resita. “It's not like we don't explore HQ. We have security cameras and robots constantly combing the place at all times. Not to mention we handle any and all repairs ourselves; while it would be nice to hire someone, that would compromise our secrecy, so we never do.”

  “I find it a pointless mystery to ponder right now,” I said. “After all, how likely are we to run into someone who might know what this tunnel was originally built for? 'Tis better for us to keep walking until we find the end, which will hopefully be an exit that will take us outside of this infernal hole in the ground once and for all.”

  “I know, I know,” said Resita, nodding. “But still, I don't like it. Walking into an unknown place like this … it doesn't feel right. Especially since I didn't even know this place existed until just now.”

  “If there are indeed any vile villains lurking in the dark, we shall be able to take care of them valiantly,” I said, holding up mine energy knife. “They will not stand a chance against our righteous, combined might.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Resita. He patted the laser gun at his side. “I barely even know how to operate these damn things.”

  “Ye can learn, and quickly, I imagine,” I said, “for urgency is often the mother of learning. 'Tis how I learned to communicate with mine elvish brothers in arms, though I admit to not being very fluent in Elvish Delan.”

  Resita did not answer that; perhaps he did not believe me. Or perhaps he was simply too distracted by this place and the questions it aroused in his mind to listen to what I said.

  Either way, I kept mine eyes and ears as wide open as possible. I still did not sense any danger here, but I knew that sometimes danger could—and often did—appear when ye least expected it. I was determined not to be taken by surprise, especially when I was so certain that freedom was close at hand.

  The tunnel turned to the left slightly, then inclined upwards. When it inclined, we were forced to walk up a small stairway, which felt rough and dirty under my bare feet, though considering I had just spent the last ten minutes standing in only the Old Gods knew what, it did not bother me much.

  Of course, the stairs ended after only a few steps, at which point the tunnel leveled out again. Only this time, the ceiling was much lower, which was clearly an intentional part of the design. It was not low enough for me to scrape mine head against; however, it was low enough that I began to worry that we would be crushed under tons of rock, or whatever was above the ceiling, as I noticed cracks in the ceiling that made me nervous.

  There was not much light in this place at all; indeed, the only light that we had was the glow of mine energy knife. The purple glow did not extend deeply into the shadows or show us much, however. Hence, 'twas like walking into the darkness, without any idea of what might lie ahead, only that it was likely dangerous.

  We heard scurryings in the shadows, but it was impossible to tell what was making those noises. It might have been rats, or perhaps spiders, but we could not see them. I did consider asking Resita if he might know what they were, but every time I looked at the bird, I saw that he was clearly busily thinking about the strangeness of this place, and so I did not interrupt him. Instead, I focused on the path we traveled upon, in case any threats were lurking ahead, waiting to kill us when we least expected it.

  But the longer we walked, the less likely it seemed to me that anything but rodents did make their home down here. No enemies or monsters came out of the dark; nothing to indicate that anyone besides ourselves had ever been down here. Indeed, I began to believe that this place perhaps had been designed by the Old Gods as a way to let us escape, so maybe I had not angered them after all.

  Though I kept that particular opinion to mine self; Resita would likely ridicule me if I shared it aloud. After all, he clearly did not believe that the Old Gods existed, which was a shame, but not unexpected, considering how skeptical the Xeeonites were of religion and spirituality in general.

  We kept walking until we reached what appeared to be a dead end. There was no way to keep walking here; nothing but a solid concrete wall in our way, like a mountain range separating two countries. Resita and I searched its surface, hoping to find another panel that would open to a secret passageway, but alas, we found no panels for us to push, nor any clues that might have hinted towards this wall being anything other than a simple wall.

  “Great,” said Resita, throwing his arms up. “Stuck again. Looks like I got my hopes up for nothing.”

  I said nothing, because I was busy feeling along the other walls for anything that might help us to escape. I doubted severely that this was a true dead end, because it made no sense for someone to go to the trouble of creating this tunnel only to make it impossible to leave. Therefore, there had to be another way out, even if it was not immediately obvious.

  Then mine fingers wrapped around what felt like the bottoms rungs of a ladder. 'Twas too dark to tell for certain, of course, but that was what it felt like, so I grabbed the ladder as tightly as I could and pulled.

  The ladder came down with a clang that echoed in the tunnel. The clanging made Resita cover his ears with his hands, though it was not very loud to me. Perhaps Resita's ears were simply more sensitive than mine.

  “How did you find that?” Resita asked, lowering his hands now that the sound was no more loud.

  “I felt for it, of course,” I said. “Now, let us climb this ladder and see where it goes. It will probably take us to freedom; but if not, then at least to some place better than where we alre
ady are.”

  “You go first,” said Resita, gesturing at the ladder. “If there's some kind of threat or enemy up there, you will be able to fight it better than me.”

  “Indeed I will,” I said. “Once I scout what's ahead and confirm that it is safe to proceed, I shall call ye up after me.”

  “All right,” said Resita. “Hope you catch a good updraft.”

  I stared at him in puzzlement. “What?”

  “Oh,” said Resita. “I forgot. You're not a Checrom, so obviously you wouldn't know. Well, that phrase is basically like saying 'good luck.'”

  “Ah,” I said, turning off my energy knife and putting it in the pocket of my pants. “Well, thank ye for the luck. I hope that I do indeed catch a good updraft, then, as well as continue to have the luck of Walnak upon me.”

  Thus, I began climbing the old ladder, which did feel strong enough to hold my weight. It creaked slightly under my weight, but it did not feel like it would break or drop; hence, I climbed upwards without fear.

  It did not take me long to reach the top, where I discovered some kind of hatch—much bigger than the drain in the waste chamber—closed above mine head. I at first feared that the hatch might be locked, but when I pressed one hand against it, it lifted slightly, which renewed my courage once more.

  But I did not push it up completely. I lifted the hatch carefully, for I did not know what lay on the other side. There might have been an enemy, perhaps one of Xacron-Ah's minions, watching this hatch, waiting to attack anyone or anything that came out of it. Perhaps even more of those lizard creatures, a thought which made me shudder.

  Hence, I pushed it gradually, inch by inch. As I did so, tiny rays of light sneaked through the gap, an encouraging sight, for it meant that this hatch did indeed lead us outside. Praise be to the Old Gods!

  'Twas not the light that most excited me, however, but the air. A clean air, better than the stink that had clung to mine skin like a parasite, entered my lungs. It was not as pure as Delanian air—the Xeeonites were polluters of the highest order, after all—but it was superior in every way to the air of the tunnel below, and then some.

  Indeed, for a moment I almost allowed myself to be swept away by the air's cleanness, for it felt like it had been eons since I had last tasted pure air. But then I remembered mine mission and put aside my feelings of joy in order to focus on my current objective.

  By now, I had lifted the hatch enough for me to see the outside environment. I peered through the crack, eager to see where this hatch led. I hoped it would be somewhere near Xeeon, because then I would be close enough not only to contact my fellow Knights, but also possibly run into Kiriah again. Maybe I would even see Xacron-Ah and teach him a lesson for attempting to murder a proud Knight of Se-Dela.

  Sadly, however, what I saw was not the concrete pavements and massive skyscrapers of that city, but barren, rocky desert. I lifted the hatch a little higher in order to see my surroundings better.

  Yes, I had indeed emerged in some kind of desert. I saw reddish sand, like it had been painted thus by an artist, and boulders of a similar hue wherever I looked. In the early morning sky above—for that was what the time seemed to be, based on the position of the sun, though I was no expert on Xeeonite time, so I did not know for certain—a dozen bat-like creatures soared in a circle, perhaps honing in on some poor creature that had been unlucky enough to end up out here.

  With a grunt, I pushed the hatch all the way open. It fell backwards onto the sand with a clang, but I did not pay much attention to that, for I was now looking at mine environment even more closely than before.

  What I discovered was that I had not ended up in a desert, not exactly. It appeared I had emerged onto what appeared to be a canyon of some sort, though knowing nothing about Xeeonite geography, I could not tell exactly where we were. Harsh, jagged scars ran along the reddish rock walls of the canyon, while some kind of whitish snake slithered only feet from the hatch (though thankfully it did not notice me; it was about six feet long, from what I could tell, and its fangs must have been three inches long).

  No matter what direction I looked in, I did not see any sign of civilization. No skyscrapers, no loud, noisy hover vehicles, no roads, no law enforcement robots, no big telescreens of any sort, and most certainly no businesses or restaurants for me to patronize. Did appear that we were in the very middle of nowhere, a thought which hardly comforted me.

  “Hey, Apakerec!” Resita's voice called from below. “What do you see? Where are we?”

  I looked down into the dark hatch and yelled, “I know not where we have emerged, my friend! Does look like some kind of canyon, but which canyon, I do not—”

  “Canyon?” repeated Resita's voice, rudely interrupting me before I could finish mine sentence. “What do the canyon walls look like?”

  “They appear as if a giant knife had been run through them by a god,” I reported, though not kindly, as I was still bothered by his rude tone. “Why? Do ye know this place?”

  “Apakerec, get back down here now,” Resita's voice boomed from below, so loud that I almost lost mine footing. “Quickly, before he gets you.”

  “He?” I repeated in annoyance. “Just who is this 'he' ye speak of? I see no 'he' around here, nor even a 'her' for that matter.”

  “I'll explain when you get back down,” said Resita, whose voice now sounded as concerned as a mother hen's cluck for her chicks. “I know it probably doesn't look like he's there right now, but I promise you that if you stick around long enough, he'll—”

  “Stop speaking in riddles, you cur,” I shouted back, not bothering to be polite about it. “Until ye explain to me exactly what ye are so concerned about getting me, I will not go back down into that infernal, hateful—”

  I ceased speaking when I heard something large crunching across the sand nearby. I nearly turned mine head to look, but then two thick metal fingers clamped around my head and lifted me out of the open hatch before I could so much as scream.

  I kicked and punched, but my hands and feet only flailed about uselessly in the air. I heard Resita crying out my name in the hatch, but then a metallic tentacle slammed the hatch shut, immediately cutting off Resita's cries.

  “There, there,” said a deep, mechanical voice behind me, a voice so cold that it made me freeze in terror. “You don't need your little friend, not when you have me.”

  The fingers rotated, turning me around until I was facing the speaker of the voice. I knew not what to expect, but whatever expectations I may have had in my mind, they were utterly shattered by what I saw in front of me.

  'Twas a robot; that much was certain, for its entire form was covered in unnatural metal skin. But it was not a clean, well-kept robot, like the kind I had seen back in Xeeon. Sand crusted its metal plating, and where sand did not reign, there was instead rust. The machine appeared to have been out in the wilderness for its whole life, as if no one had taken care of it.

  Yet that was the least disturbing thing about its appearance. It had twin green eyes—optics, I believe the term was, though I knew little about proper robot terminology—perched atop a head that was almost entirely sharp, jagged teeth that looked like actual teeth. Its arms were thick and long, though instead of having a left hand, it had a tentacle, that same tentacle that I had seen close the hatch.

  This thing was far taller than any robot I had seen. Whereas most Xeeonite robots were roughly as tall as a full-grown human, this thing had to be at least twice as tall as I, if not taller. 'Twas so tall that I feared that I would suffer great pain if it decided to drop me onto the sand below.

  Perhaps most disturbing and disquieting of all was the intelligence in its eyes, intelligence I had never witnessed in the eyes of any machine before. 'Twas not the cold artificiality of a robot, but the thinking natural warmth of a living being. How that made any sense, I knew not, but I was too terrified to even think about it.

  “What's this, what's this, what's this,” said the machine, grinding, mechanical
noises punctuating its words. “A human, I see, but not a mere human, oh no. A Delanian human. Hmm, I have not seen many of your kind around here before, but it doesn't matter. I wonder how close you Delanian humans are, biologically-speaking, to Xeeonite humans? It would be interesting to find out.”

  Its question did seem nonsensical to I, but I did not answer it. Instead, I drew mine energy knife from my hilt, activated the blade, which roared to life, and slashed at the machine's hand.

  The energy knife slashed through the machine's metal wrist like a knife through butter. More mechanical noises followed, and then its grip on my head loosened and I fell to the sand below.

  I landed on my feet and rolled forward betwixt and underneath the mechanical monstrosity's legs. Jumping to mine feet, I turned around just as the machine whirled around to face me, its tentacle whirling through the air like the sling of a child. Its arm, the one I had injured, sparked where mine knife had cut into it, but that did not seem to slow it down at all.

  “That hurt,” said the machine, though its voice hardly sounded bothered by that. “Why did you hurt me? What did I do to you?”

  “Threaten to dissect me like a frog,” I replied, walking backwards out of its reach, “which I am clearly not.”

  “Why should I not dissect you?” asked the machine, this time sounding quite genuine in its question. “How else am I supposed to learn if you are similar to the Xeeonite humans that hate me so?”

  “I know not the answer to that question, clicker,” I said, “except perhaps that ye would do better to find a book on the subject, with pictures, than to do it yourself.”

  The machine's eyes started blinking rapidly, a sign I did not understand, and then it growled. “Then I will rip you apart piece by piece, you stupid organic!”

  Its tentacle launched toward me with the speed of a rattlesnake. In alarm, I dodged the attack, jumping to the side out of its path, but then the tentacle twisted in midair and slapped me across the face.

  Whilst the tentacle did not appear very strong or heavy, when it slammed into me, it was like being hit by a bag of bricks. The blow sent me staggering across the sand and I tripped over mine own bare feet, landing on my side onto the sand. Pain exploded in my side, which I realized was due to the hard rock I had fallen on, which explained the pain.

  My head spun like the sun around Dela, but I had little time to focus on that, because I heard the machine coming at me. Shaking mine head, I looked up in time to see the machine almost upon me, swinging its tentacle over its head while growling terrible mechanical grunts that reminded me of a malfunctioning Diamusk vehicle engine.

  I jumped back to my feet, despite mine aching and spinning head, and ran the other way. 'Twas no way I could defeat this villain on my own; after all, it was clearly no ordinary machine and I lacked my metalligick armor and sword to fight it with. It had bloodlust, and it would not be satisfied until it had torn me to shreds.

  But mine attempt at fleeing was no use. I heard its tentacle whipping through the air behind me and then felt it wrapped around mine ankles, causing me to trip and fall face-first into the sand.

  Some of that sand got into mine mouth, making me hack and cough, but I had no time to get it all out, for I was soon lifted off my feet until I was above the machine's open maw. Looking down, I saw, just beyond its front teeth, what appeared to be a series of saws, blades, and pistons in its mouth that looked more than enough to tear me apart.

  I slashed at the tentacle with mine knife, but the energy blade did not so much as scratch the tentacle's surface. That perhaps was for the best, for if I had indeed succeeded in making the tentacle let me go, I would have fallen directly into the machine's mouth, where I surely would have died for certain.

  Then again, it did not matter much whether I wounded it or not, for either way I would end up in its bowels. I knew not what the stomach of a clicker looked like, but I did not wish to find out.

  Unfortunately, as I looked down into the gaping maw of the machine, I knew I had no chance at survival now. For its spinning saws, sharp teeth, and clashing, clanging blades came closer and closer to my face. And though I should have screamed, I did not, for I was too overcome by terror to do so.

  Then, without warning, the machine's tentacle swayed, making me sway with it. Not only that, but the machine cried out, as if in pain, and threw me away.

  My whole world spun several times before I landed hard on the sand several feet away. Thankfully, this time I did not fall on any rocks; however, the impact of the fall was indeed enough to knock me almost silly. Mine back and head ached, making me wish that I could just lie here and rest until I was better.

  But alas, I had no time to do that, for that monstrous machine was still active. Therefore, I gathered all of my strength and willpower and sat up, rubbing my aching head as I did so.

  I heard the machine roar again and looked over mine shoulder. The terrible clicker that had been about to devour me was now on its knees, its back sparking as if 'twas about to explode. I did not understand why that was until I heard a familiar voice call out, “Apakerec!”

  I looked in the direction that that voice had came from. Resita was running toward me, his laser gun clasped between his talons, the hatch open behind him. I had almost forgotten about mine bird friend while I dealt with that machine; nonetheless, I was happy to see him just the same.

  “Resita?” I asked as I got up to my feet, dusting off my clothes as I did so (though they still stunk as horribly as ever). “What are ye doing here? Are ye responsible for injuring that machine?”

  “You mean the Destroyer?” said Resita, coming to a halt a few feet from me. He raised his laser gun as if it was the most important item in the world. “Yes. I used my laser gun here to shoot it. My aim isn't all that great, but I think I must have hit something vital, based on the way the Destroyer is acting.”

  “Indeed, ye did,” I said, mine eyes wandering over to the groaning machine, which sounded like 'twas dying, though I knew robots could not. “Shall we finish it?”

  “No,” said Resita, shaking his head fast. “I mean, I would like to, of course, but I don't think we can. That thing has survived way worse than a shot from a laser gun and we really don't have the kind of weaponry necessary to even think of killing it.”

  “Then let us flee,” I said, “before it recovers.”

  Of course, I knew not which direction in which to run, for the canyon was as unfamiliar to me as Xeeon's winding streets. Resita did not seem any better informed, yet the Checrom janitor took off to the east, toward one of the canyon's exits. Not wanting to be stuck with this 'Destroyer,' as Resita had called it, I dashed after him, though I did mine best to keep an eye on the rocks in the sand to avoid cutting my feet open on any that peeked out.

  Even as we ran, however, I could hear the Destroyer yelling at us to stop. 'Twas too bad for it, for neither of us even slowed down when it called for us; in fact, I believe we ran faster than ever, as though its words had had the exact opposite effect than it had intended for them to have on us.

  Still, I looked over mine shoulder anyway, though it was just in time to see the Destroyer's legs vanish beneath the sand. Where it went, I did not know, but that mystery would be for later. For now, we had to run and find safety, if indeed such a thing existed in this desert.

  ***