by AM Scott
Softening her muscles, Saree slammed into the ground, breath whooshing, the ground pounding into every part of her tumbling body; light, dark, light, dark, light. Oh, oof, ow.
Saree lay there, curled in a loose ball, staring at the ravine wall, trying to breathe. She’d lived. It was a miracle. Okay, can’t stay here—must move. She inventoried her body. Toes, fingers, legs, arms, they all moved and wiggled. She was battered and beaten, but nothing seemed to be broken. Rolling to her hands and knees, she pushed to her feet. Suns. Everything hurt. Especially her back.
Wait a minute. Saree barked out a laugh. She still had her backpack on. By all the seven suns of Saga, how does that happen? Shaking her head, she winced. Her neck hurt. Ow. Slowly pulling off the pack, she plodded to the rock wall and leaned against it. Saree took out the last bev-tainer, and carefully drank, gratefully washing the nasty taste of Fang and fear away. Shaking the bev-tainer, she grimaced. Almost gone. Wonderful.
Digging farther into her pack, she searched it. No, nothing to cut with in the main compartment. What about the front pocket? Saree pulled it open. First aid kit, pen, paper, small bag of miscellaneous emergency supplies, yes! A tiny folding knife. Opening the knife, she stuck it between the bottoms of her boots to hold it in place. It took forever to saw through the flex cuffs, and her ankles and wrists were screaming again, but eventually, she was free. Burying the cuffs in the sand, she put everything back in her pack. She might need it again.
As she fastened the pack, the constriction around her neck loosened and she jumped, startled. Saree put a hand to her neck—the slave collar hung loose, unlocked. She looked around, wildly. Nobody here. How did it get released? Oh, who cares? Pulling the slave collar off, Saree threw it away with all her strength, watching it smack into the ravine wall.
Wait—that wasn’t an accident, and it didn’t get released by her fall, so who sent the command? Saree stood and surveyed the ravine from ground to sky, turning in a full circle. Nothing and no one. Just a narrow rock canyon with high, steep walls and a tiny slice of sky.
Hal! It had to be Hal! Hal found her when she came out of the tunnels. He could easily find the right signal to unlock the collar. Saree closed her eyes, relief coursing through her, her deeply buried fear of being abandoned on Gliese flying away. Hal found her.
Saree opened her eyes, looking at the rock face with new eyes. If only he could land here—but the ravine was just too narrow, and too deep for him to use the cargo tractor. She stared up at the sky and waved. No matter—she needed to make the most of the opportunity she’d been given. Having that slave collar off was a major improvement.
Having little choice of direction, Saree walked back toward the ravine she’d originally driven into, staying close to the wall with the deepest shadows. With the sun going down, the gulch was completely shadowed, but any little bit would help. Or at least not hurt.
Trudging along, the sand shifting under her making every step strenuous, Saree contemplated her next move. If she stayed in this ravine, they’d find her. But… she couldn’t scale these walls; they were too sheer. And even if she could, they’d find her at the top. Maybe Hal could pick her up? He’d obviously spotted her somehow, even without her e-torc. Some sort of tracker on her or in her pack? She could go back in the tunnels—Saree suppressed a shudder—but she’d lost her headlamp when they pulled her out of the tunnel. She frowned. She might have a light, or at least a glow stick in her pack; the front pocket had that little bag of emergency supplies.
Feet dragging with exhaustion, she kept moving. She’d been up for a day and a half, walked and crawled through kilometers of tunnels, run away and jumped off a lift bike. Why wouldn’t she be tired? Saree’s rough, rumbling laugh startled her—guess this day was hard on everything, including her voice. Her dry mouth didn’t help, nor did the dust of Gliese, rising around her. At least she knew Hal was there.
The bands of colored rock flowed and twisted along the steep ravine walls, mesmerizing her. The colors dimmed as the light faded further. Not much light penetrated this slot canyon in the first place, and sunset deepened the shadows.
Would this sand never end? Trudging along, Saree tried to keep looking for something, anything, but she knew she wasn’t really seeing anything. She wasn’t listening like she should be either. Her head kept dropping down, leaving her staring at the ravine bottom. Wait. Stopping, she blinked, and turned back. She did see something—hand and foot holds carved into the ravine wall, going straight up.
Saree considered the steps. Up to where? That was the question, wasn’t it? It was impossible to know who carved them, or why. But she knew, if she stayed here in this little ravine, she’d get caught. She had nothing to lose by giving it a shot. Looking up, Saree almost fell when she tilted her head too far back. Well, she could lose her life if she fell off while climbing… Still, better to try any escape than stay here, a sitting duck.
Or sitting swan, since she was on Cygnus-Gliese. She laughed again, her throat too sore to sustain it long.
Saree put her right hand into the first slot. The stone was rough under her abraded fingers, and her wrists were sore from controlling the bike and crashing, but she pulled up anyway. She forced her muscles to lift, step after careful step. At least these steps weren’t worn smooth by water or time—the sharp edges and rough surface made them easier to grip. There were dark water stains a meter or so to either side of the steps, so something at the top diverted the water away.
Nearing the top, she brought her feet up one step too high, forcing her body into a crouch, awkwardly hanging, so she could look over the edge without rolling on to it immediately. Here we go… She pushed up and popped over, scanned, and ducked back down. Nothing but a rock ledge, a dark hollow in the wall at the back of the ledge. Saree pushed up again and lunged on to the ledge, pulling her legs up and rolling, the rock bruising her battered body further. Red rock hung overhead in a curving spherical shape. She turned her head to follow the curve of the rock. It flowed into another band of paler red, then yellow. She peered into the gloom—there it was. Saree smiled without joy. A tunnel. Of course.
Lying there, she just breathed, trying to recruit her strength and energy. It didn’t work. She sighed. She had to move anyway. Hal couldn’t pick her up here, and she couldn’t go up farther, so down the tunnel it was. Suns. She was too tired to even swear. Come on, Saree, move. Sitting up, she pulled off her pack, opening the front pocket. She’d packed this emergency bag so long ago, she didn’t remember exactly what was in it. Pulling out the smaller bag, she opened it. Yes! Two glow sticks, each rated for eight hours. Saree dug through the rest. Two protein bars, the horrible-tasting ones that lasted forever; a human food safety test kit, expired; matches; a lighter; a whistle; a gossamer heat-retention blanket; sunscreen, also expired; a razor blade and a hand fishing line with a few hooks. Saree chuckled quietly, her voice rasping. Well, obviously this kit wasn’t intended for the desert. She kept the glow stick and put the rest back.
Blowing out a breath, Saree strengthened her resolve. Time to go. She rolled to her horribly raw hands and knees, and levered up to her feet despite her trembling, sore muscles. Once on her feet, she surveyed the hollow more thoroughly. Nope, nowhere to go except down the tunnel or back to the ravine. Tunnel it was. This one started so high up, there was little chance of meeting a tunnel monster. At least she hoped so.
Saree stepped forward and in, grateful she could stand upright in the tunnel. She was so tired. Just the thought of crouching…ugh. When the dim light from outside faded, she snapped the first glow stick and put the other in her pocket. Holding the stick in front of her, she peered into the dim, green glow, the red rock turning black and the yellow into gray. She moved slowly along the smooth tunnel, watching her feet more than anything else. She did not want to stumble into a drop-off—or anything—her poor body was sore enough.
She slogged down the tunnel, nothing but determination keeping her moving. She was so very close to getting back off this
planet and away from here, forever. Saree could almost taste a Loreli celebration dinner. She’d never, ever come back to Gliese, no matter how much they paid for clock maintenance. Suns, she’d never come back to Cygnus. Oh, to be home, safe in her shuttle, Hal asking her questions about human behavior, eating lunch with the crew and the Al-Kindis…a wave of desperate longing towed her under. Leaning against the tunnel wall, she bit her lip. She’d cry, but she couldn’t. Dehydration had an upside—who knew?
Suns. No more. Concentrate on the here and now. Survival, that was what mattered. Survive. Evade. Escape.
Saree walked the twisting, winding tunnel, with new determination, if not further speed. This tunnel headed steadily down. Blast and rad, she didn’t want to go down, she wanted to go up. Up, where Hal could land, or at least hover. At least the dust was decreasing.
Wait, what was that? She listened, hard, but heard nothing. She frowned and trudged onward. Startling at ghosts again.
After an hour, Saree decided to rest. She slumped down on the floor of the tunnel, muscles and bones aching, feet throbbing. Taking her pack off, she pulled out the last bar in the main part of her pack and her bev-tainer. She shook it and grimaced at the rattle of water—not much left. She choked down the bar, and took a few small swallows, very slowly. She had to enjoy the little water left and use it well.
Suns, she did not want to get up. She was burned. But she had to, or Hal couldn’t get her off this rock. Go, Saree!
Saree pushed up and on, slogging steadily down, back into the bowels of the Badlands and the domain of the tunnel worms. She forced herself to keep moving, a constantly litany of ‘keep moving’ ringing in her head.
Saree paused, holding her breath, sure she heard something behind her. But she heard nothing but the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her chest. Okay, so that makes stop number two-hundred and forty-two, jumping at ghosts.
She trekked onward, she couldn’t stop yet; they could still find her here, all too easily. On and on, for another hour. So thirsty. So tired.
What is that?
Saree stopped. Did she actually hear something? Saree took a few more steps and listened again. Nothing definite, but there was a real sound, not just the shuffling of her feet, white noise in her head or the beating of her heart. Slinking along, slowly and very quietly, she placed each foot carefully. The noise increased. The whine of stabilizers and lift generators, the clang and clash of metal or cerimetal, the dust of Gliese, the stench of unwashed human and lubricants—there were lots of people ahead. Turn around, or go forward? Saree sighed. Suns. She couldn’t go back; she’d just be recaptured.
Saree continued forward, slowly. The tunnel leveled off but kept turning. There. She peered ahead. Is that white light? Putting her glow stick in the right-hand pocket, she crept forward. Definitely light ahead—just the reflected glow was more than enough for her green-adapted eyes. The tunnel turned again, the light much, much brighter. She squinted a little and moved even slower, deliberately placing each foot quietly, toe first.
Plastered sideways against the smooth, red rock, Saree peeked around the corner. Blast it all into a sun. Why bother escaping? She could have gotten here hours ago with a lot less effort. Saree inched back around the last two corners and slid down, collapsing against the rock in a puddle of despair.
Chapter 22
Saree jolted upright. Ow. My neck. Her hand clenching at the back of her neck, she blinked, looking at the red rock in front of her. What the? Oh, she’d fallen asleep. Not surprising. She’d been awake for more than two standard days. She sat up, slowly, pain rippling down her spine. Ow. The lift bike fall bruised her, her muscles were tight as guitar strings, screaming at her, and her hands and knees were raw and burning. And her mouth was like the surface of Gliese—desert-dry and nasty. Opening her pack, she pulled out her bev-tainer and slowly drank, making herself hold each mouthful, letting the water penetrate the parched tissues in her tongue. Ah.
She needed more water, soon. Saree’s stomach grumbled, hunger reactivated by the water. She had more bars, but digesting them would take water she didn’t have. So, now what? It was a miracle she hadn’t been caught; really, she’d expected to be woken by a set of flex cuffs—or a kick. Or worse. It was—consulting her inner clock and converting—zero-one-thirty-eight, Gliese time. Well, she’d gotten a few hours of badly needed sleep. Not enough, but enough to function.
Not ready to stand, Saree gently flexed and rolled her muscles, trying to warm them. She had a couple of options. One, she could go back the way she came, and hope the Inquisitors gave up the search. She shrugged—and winced. Ow. It was possible, but not probable. She’d expected to be found by now—those climbing holds carved into the rock wall to this tunnel were pretty obvious. Saree grimaced. Well, no. The small holes carved in the rock were obvious if you were on foot, but at lift-bike speeds, in the dark? You’d never see them. Nevertheless, men were almost certainly out there, scouring the Badlands for her. The bike she’d highjacked must not have a locator tag or they would have found her immediately. That forced them into a wide area search, but still, it was just a matter of time. The question for option one: would Hal spot her and pick her up before the Inquisitors got her? If he came within range of their sensors, they’d send up their shuttles.
Her second option was to go back into the tunnels below her. Saree shuddered. Tunnel monsters, no light, no idea where she was going…it wasn’t much of a choice. She snorted. She was literally between a rock and a hard place.
The noise and commotion from the huge cavern she’d peeked into earlier had died down. Actually, she couldn’t hear anything at all echoing down the tunnel. Was everyone sleeping? She could sneak in and get water. The notion made her mouth, already nasty and parched, dry up like a melon rind left in the Gliese sun. Finding and getting to their water wouldn’t be easy. They must have a well of some sort, or they wouldn’t have survived this long. It would be secured. Guarded even. Or maybe not. Maybe they wouldn’t guard their own stronghold, relying on their sensors. It wouldn’t hurt to sneak out to the end of this tunnel and look.
Unless she got caught.
Standing was painful, every muscle screaming, every joint aching and rough. Walking was excruciating. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. She could hardly move—if she had to move fast, she was space junk. Saree knew, from past experience, that once she pushed past the initial warm-up period, she’d feel better, but suns, so much pain now. Moving slowly and deliberately, she rounded the corners, dropping to her hands and knees at the last one.
Oh, by the egg of Zarar, the rock against her abraded flesh burned like fire. She didn’t dare make any noise, not even a huff. Saree crawled forward, then dropped to her belly, inching forward. She reached the edge of the tunnel and peered out, craning her neck uncomfortably to stay behind the tunnel exit, in case there was a sensor.
Her tunnel emerged high above the cavern floor, giving her a bird-eye view. A huge, open space, easily two hundred meters long and one hundred wide. No movement anywhere. To her left, the cavern was wider, with seven huge tunnels leading away from it, and probably more she couldn’t see. Not just tunnel monsters, but giant tunnel monsters. Saree shuddered and regretted it when pain sparked down her spine.
The far side of the cavern wall was riddled with tunnels in a variety of sizes. The tunnels were scattered across the face of the cavern wall. To her right, the cavern was smaller, with two tunnels exiting, slightly smaller than the ones on the left end. The right-hand tunnels might be smaller than the left, but more than large enough for the lift bikes parked haphazardly in front of them. Behind the lift bikes, taking up the majority of the cave, crates and boxes stacked three, four or five high, filling the entire cavern floor, probably equipment and food. Narrow passages snaked around the boxes; they were probably stacked neatly to begin with, but as individual crates were pulled out, haphazard piles were left behind. It must have been quite the operation to get all those in here; many of the larger crate
s would barely fit through those narrower tunnels. Saree frowned. Surprising they didn’t blast a larger entrance. But at the time, they were trying for stealth.
Moving slowly, Saree looked back to her left. It was difficult to see around the stacks of crates, but there appeared to be tables and benches—maybe there was a kitchen at the end of all those crates? Probably one of those automated mass-feeding stations. Loaded with a powdered mix and hooked up to a water line, it would spit out a nutritious food paste. A rather bland, sticky and nasty paste, but it was sufficient for life. Beyond the tables, a few cots stood in a row, but not nearly as many as the Inquisitors needed if the Sisters’ estimates were right. At least one cot had an occupant. Maybe most of the Inquisitors moved into the tunnels, splitting up for privacy?
Against the far-left end of the immense cavern, between the tunnels, even bigger crates stood in a row, raised above the ground, with a few steps leading up to them. She peered closer—sani-stations. The fact that Saree didn’t have any urge to use one wasn’t a good sign. She needed water. The thought made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.
So, if they had a well, it would be down there. Or back in those tunnels and piped to the kitchen. From the stench wafting her way, she doubted the sani-stations had water hooked up—they must be sonic only. Her nose wrinkled. And nobody was doing the maintenance. How could they stand to eat so close to those stinky stations? Saree’s mouth twisted. Maybe they were used to worse.
Nothing moved in the cavern. She might be able to sneak down to the kitchen and get water. Hope arrowed through Saree and her mouth tried to water but couldn’t. First, she had to get down there—she didn’t have a rope. She surveyed the edge of the tunnel she was lying in—no sensors she could see. Pulling her body to the edge of the cavern wall, she peeked down. Steps were carved into the wall below her. Was this an emergency exit? Why didn’t it have a sensor like the other tunnels? Maybe they didn’t think the tunnel monsters would come this way, or they ran out of sensors? Anyone climbing down this wall would be pretty obvious—she was ten meters above the cavern floor.
