That being said, Revik agreed with Atwar that going through one of the main entrances, whether by water or land, was out of the question for the two of us. He seemed to think we’d be better off supporting the others from outside the wall, if it came to that.
As it was, we had to be prepared to shift gears into a frontal assault, if things went sideways at any point and we couldn’t back out––or simply decided not to, for whatever reason.
Everything would fall under Revik if that happened. He was still our most deadly offensive weapon, especially now. I would give him access to my upper structures and pull down a shield from those same high structures.
But Revik would be the weapon.
He sat behind me now, astride the folded up wing of the sailboat as he paddled us quietly through the stone tunnel.
I could feel from my light that we were already more than halfway there.
I might not be able to deal with this, he muttered in my mind, using our bond-link.
I turned, looking at him without stopping paddling.
What do you mean?
He gave me a sideways look, then, after the faintest pause, sent me a swift collection of packed images, emotions, thoughts. Feeling my chest tighten as I resonated with what he showed me, I looked back at him again.
Revik was claustrophobic.
Revik was really claustrophobic.
It dawned on me that he was struggling with it already, even just with this underground river, with the low ceiling and rock walls on either side. The way Atwar described smuggling me and Revik through the cargo gates would be significantly worse.
Kicking myself for not even thinking of that until now, I gave him another look over my shoulder, still paddling steadily with the others.
Can you use me? I sent. Can I do something? Shield you from it in some way?
His mouth firmed as he glanced at the rock walls. Aiming his crystal-like eyes back at me, he exhaled, still paddling with strong strokes of his arms and shoulders.
No. I still don’t think we should risk the shield before we’re inside, he sent. Not from you. I would rather rely on Atwar’s people until it’s absolutely necessary.
I nodded, thinking about this.
I still felt like an asshole that his claustrophobia hadn’t even occurred to me for this part of things. I’d thought about it in relation to the underground spaces we might encounter inside––Dante’s hot spot, the Vatican catacombs, the possibility of another bunker like what we’d come across in Denver and Beijing. In general, I’d focused all my worry around what would happen once we got inside the city walls.
I’d worried about figuring out how to open the Barrier door at the other end of Dante’s hotspot, assuming we could even find it. I’d worried about me needing to open the door, possibly under severe time constraints.
I also worried about what we might face in the living machine Revik described to me, not to mention Menlim’s genetically-designed telekinetics.
I’d been so focused on that side of things, I let him, Balidor and Atwar figure out how to get us inside the city walls. I’d been looped in, of course, but I didn’t offer a lot of input into that end of things. I figured, with my lower structures almost completely dark from the pregnancy, I wouldn’t be much help to them for that kind of thing, anyway.
I wished like hell he’d said something.
He shrugged. We didn’t have better options. It was a calculated risk.
When I gave him another worried look, he sent me a pulse of reassurance.
It’ll be okay, Allie. He smiled faintly, sending me more warmth. I might just need you to talk me down. Or distract me in some way.
I nodded, sending him a pulse of reassurance.
Biting my lip, I shielded my worry from him, though.
ATWAR’S CONTACT MET us at the lower-level gate.
That gate lived about a hundred feet down a curved section of the waterway tunnel, in a darkened stretch of nothing but rock and cold water. From there, we were completely out of sight of the main cargo bay.
Conversely, we also had no visuals into that bay, or what it held.
In this case, to call it a “gate” wasn’t figurative––a heavy, wrought-iron, cage-like wall separated us from the last stretch of waterway, broken by square holes only big enough for a cat or small-sized dog to squeeze through.
Those holes wouldn’t even fit an adult human head, much less their shoulders.
Atwar called his man on the other side of that gate Pogro.
A middle-aged male seer with heavily Middle Eastern features, Pogro opened the gate with three of his friends, using a hand-held crank with a thick, rusted chain as thick as Revik’s arm.
On the other side of that gate was a small wooden dock, where Pogro and his friends crouched on a low-sitting boat illuminated only with torches. Once we’d paddled the sailboat through the opening in the rock, they climbed aboard and began speaking to us in seer sign language, telling us what would happen next.
Pogro provided us with worker’s papers and permits, work coveralls, and, in a few cases, hats and hair clips to make us less conspicuous. Apparently, Balidor’s hair was too short; Kalashi’s too light in color.
More importantly, he handed us all chipped ID badges that should work on both sides of the gate. Those papers and IDs assigned most of our people to one of the Roman cargo barges.
That barge was leaving in less than an hour.
The last of its haul was in the process of being loaded from smaller, foreign ships, Pogro told us, mostly livestock, food and wine. It turned out Rome only permitted a select number of barges access through the city gates, all of which were owned and manned by staff and security vetted by Rome’s security and military forces.
All loading and unloading occurred at this bay, and at one other, south of the Tiber River on the coast of Italy. Security and staff for those bays were also under Roman jurisdiction.
Pogro himself worked for Rome.
Thanks to him, most of our team would be posing as crew.
Atwar’s people, in coordination with Vik and Dante, already had their fake IDs matched with bio-specs entered into the security databases in use by the Roman military and shipping authority. Balidor, Atwar, Jusef, Atwar’s two guards, Kalashi, and even Feigran and Cass, were in the system as security-cleared dock workers.
If all went well, they’d maintain those identities as we passed through the security gate leading into Rome.
Revik and I would be traveling another way.
They had badges and IDs for us, too, but our aliases were for after––meaning, after we reached the other side of the quarantine gate.
Pogro, Atwar’s man on the docks, motioned for the two of us to come with him even as his people took over manning the sailboat and the paddles from the rest of us. Once our people and Atwar’s had all climbed down to the small wooden dock, Pogro’s team began paddling the trimaran down the tunnel and towards the cargo bay ahead of us.
I only watched them for a few seconds before Pogro tapped my light, trying to get me and Revik’s attention. He had the box ready for us, sitting in the middle of the long, flat boat I’d noticed tied to the dock. For the first time, I realized a second boat waited for Balidor, Atwar and the rest of them.
Two dock workers stood over the box on the first boat, holding open the hatch on top.
Looking at it, I couldn’t help but glance at Revik.
My first thought was––he was right.
He wasn’t going to be able to handle this.
The box was a decent size. Truthfully, it was bigger than it needed to be to carry the two of us, which made me think they’d used it to transfer more than two people before now.
It also appeared to do exactly what Atwar claimed it did. Even being mostly blind, I could feel the bio-electro-organic field the box generated with my higher structures.
According to Atwar and Kalashi, that field should not only block and distort any standard, biometric scans, but als
o any Barrier scans conducted by infiltrators manning the gates. The organic walls were thick, and when I tuned into it with my higher structures, I hit a blank wall.
It wasn’t like an empty spot in the Barrier, which would have still designated an anomaly of some kind––I truly saw nothing.
I didn’t even see a lack of something.
Whoever designed the box programmed the organic field to resonate with its surrounding Barrier space. As a result, it was even less conspicuous than a seer’s shield.
It blended seamlessly with the Barrier space where it lived.
None of that was the problem.
The problem was, as big as it was, it wasn’t fucking big enough. It also had no windows, no visible door handles or locks on the inside panels, and no interior lights.
Revik was going to freak the fuck out.
Atwar frowned at both of us, checking the timepiece on his handheld.
“Is there a problem?” he said. “We need to move. I want you loaded along with the rest of the boxes, so our people don’t stand out.”
Revik just stood there, staring into the deep, rectangular space.
“Get in,” Atwar said. “Now.”
I felt Revik breathing harder behind me.
I also felt Balidor and Cass watching us. I felt the lightbulb go off as they realized what was wrong, why Revik and I were just standing there.
“What’s the problem?” Atwar said, his voice sharper.
I looked up at Revik, nudging him gently with my light.
He gave me a bare glance, then his eyes went back to the organic box.
Would it be easier for me to get in first? I asked him.
He gave me another bare glance.
Realizing everyone on the small dock was now staring at us, I took his hand, leading him with me until we were both standing over the open container.
I only let go of him when I caught hold of its edge, stepping carefully over the steep side, one leg at a time. Once inside, I walked over to the far end of the box, leaving room for Revik to follow. I noticed the material gave under my booted feet, like a thick, spongey mat. It gave even more noticeably when I knelt, then lay down on the organic metal.
Lying on my back, I looked up at Revik, nudging him again with my light.
Come on. I kept my thoughts neutral, almost businesslike. Like you said, it’s the only way. And I’ll help. Promise.
I felt the higher levels of his light spike in panic.
Nothing showed on his face, or likely, in the lower levels of his light, as he threw a leg over the side of the box. He took one step, then lowered himself in one graceful move, until he was lying on his back beside me.
I swear I could hear his heart beat, even lying a foot away from him.
“Ready?” Pogro said, above.
“Just close it,” I said, my voice hard. “Do it now.”
Next to me, Revik tensed, as if his whole body had been turned to stone. I looked over at him, watching his face disappear into shadow as they lowered the green-mirrored door over us.
Immediately, he grabbed for my hand.
“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck… Allie.”
I gripped his fingers back, hard.
“It’s all right,” I told him. “Hey. It’s okay. Revik… focus on me. Focus on my voice, okay?”
He was breathing harder, panting as he stared up at the ceiling.
I couldn’t see him at all with my physical eyes, but I could feel him through the bond-link between us, enough that I imagined I could see him. Feeling the panic spiral off his light, I found myself grateful that the box was soundproof.
Even so, I could almost see him biting his tongue so he’d remain quiet.
Turning to my side, I began stroking his arms and sides where he lay. I could feel him breathing harder under his shirt, his heart pounding under my fingers. His skin had broken out in a light sweat, but it was also unusually cold, nearly clammy.
I felt my hands on him confusing him, even as it pulled at his attention, distracting him.
It occurred to me that I could feel no motion outside the box at all.
“Shock-proof,” Revik said, his voice a gasp. “It’s supposed to be shock-proof. So if we move around a lot in here, if they have the dampers set, we can’t make it move, can’t be heard, no matter what we do in here––”
I cut him off, feeling where his mind was going with that.
“––So we won’t get hurt if they drop us,” I said, my voice faintly humorous. “That’s comforting.”
He fell silent, still staring up at the dark, panting.
“Revik, we’re still in the boat,” I told him. “We’re in the boat. They’re bringing us to the barge, remember? Then they’ll carry us. We probably won’t feel that. We probably won’t feel much of anything until they open it up again on the other side––”
“Allie,” he cut in. “That’s not helping.”
I nodded, keeping my light and voice calm.
“Okay. What would help?”
“Talking’s not helping,” he said, his voice out of breath. He reached up, touching the ceiling of the box with his hands, feeling all over the smooth surface. “Talking isn’t helping, Allie. It’s stressing me out. I’m trying to think around it––”
“Okay.” I caught hold of his arm, finding his wrist and bringing it back down. Weaving my fingers into his, I held it at his side, shifting closer to him and rubbing his belly with my other hand. “Do you want a back rub?” I said. “You could roll over, and––”
“No,” he cut in. “No, Allie.”
His other hand was feeling over the side of the box now.
I wondered if he was even conscious of what he was doing.
“Hey.” I reached for his jaw, turning him to face me. “Hey, focus on me. Focus on me, okay? Forget about the stupid box.”
I felt him trying, fighting to listen to me. Balling his hands into fists, he shifted slightly to his side, still breathing too hard as he closed his eyes, trying to block all awareness of where he was from his mind. I could feel him trying to meditate, to blank his mind, to count his breaths, to focus on his heart beats, on the sound of my breaths.
His hand found my heart. He pressed it there, fighting to feel each beat.
I could feel that panic growing in the back of his mind, though.
It moved too quickly for rational thought.
It wasn’t subject to logic, or anything in the way of a coherent storyline, much less anything approaching causality. I didn’t even feel much in the way of memories on him, or conscious trauma points, or even images to accompany that fear.
It was like a part of him just began to spin.
The longer it spun, the higher that tension ratcheted, until his breath was stopping in his lungs, his pulse beating so fast I worried he’d have a heart attack.
When I tried to feel his light, there was something almost biological about that fear.
It felt like he’d been drugged.
After a few more seconds of lying there, I started to wonder if we should have drugged him. I wasn’t worried about someone hearing us, even if he screamed. But if he genuinely flipped out, he might go for the telekinesis, try to force his way out of the box that way.
For the first time, it hit me this could be a major fucking problem.
Not just in terms of Revik himself, which had been my initial concern. This could be a major fucking problem for the op. It could get all of us killed.
Feeling his heart rate grow harder and faster as he stared up at the dark, I tried to calm him down with my light. I sent warmth, reassurance, love, calm. I sent images of Lily, of the three of us when we’d last seen her, in that tank compartment on the ship.
None of it seemed to penetrate his panic at all. It all seemed to glide off the surface of his aleimi, without touching him, or affecting that charge in his light.
I put my hand on his cock.
He jumped.
Turning in the dark, panting, look
ing at me, he shook his head.
“No,” he said. “No, Allie.”
I frowned, but I didn’t take my hand off him.
His panic worsened when I started to massage him there.
It worsened, but it changed.
I felt it shift from an obsessive focus on the box and the dark and our inability to get out. It split his consciousness instead, creating a different kind of conflict in his light as he began to worry about what I was doing, about whether he should be letting me do it. The two things warred in his light and mind, but between them, managed to defuse the worst of that charge that had been building in the higher structures of his light.
Sliding over him, I started to unbuckle his belt.
He let out a groan, gripping my hair in one fist.
“Goddamn it.” He clenched his hand tighter. I felt a hot wave of aggression run through his light, stiffening his back and body, forcing him silent. I felt him wanting to yell at me, to call me names, to say shitty things, but he didn’t do that, either.
He didn’t even try to pull me off him.
Sliding closer, I wrapped my leg around and between his, opening my light.
He let out a heavier groan.
When I opened my light more, his arm coiled around my waist, gripping me tightly against him. His back arched involuntarily when I made my weight heavier.
“Fucking bitch…” he muttered.
He said it low, his voice harsh, but already, I felt his light starting to shift.
As for the words themselves, for some reason, they didn’t bother me.
I could feel the anger there, but it still didn’t really feel aimed at me. I felt a kind of surrender there instead, a powerlessness mixed with anger that was both about us and not. He hated that he felt powerless with me. He wanted to trust me, but he couldn’t do that, either.
Truthfully, it was almost a relief to feel that on him.
I could feel the aggression there, the distrust, the hurt, the frustrated restraint he’d been sitting on probably since we stood by that wall outside the Forbidden City in China.
It was a relief to finally feel it.
It was a relief to not have him hiding it from me.
He just lay there, panting, as I finished unfastening his belt, then his pants.
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