by Kevin Gordon
two millennia more and more platforms were built and joined, while development of the massive mitterlights that would illuminate Core were begun. The last platform was linked in 5750, and by then Topside, as it was then called, became a permanent fixture in the Novan culture.
^Be careful, Dobrin. Watch that pipe.^
^I see it, mother,^ he cast irritably. Dobrin ducked his head down low, covering his back with a clear protective plastic. A whitish foam covered an intricate network of pipes above him, dripping caustic yellow fluid that smelled rank and foul and left a bitter taste in the nostrils and tongue. The liquid glowed a little, helping the travelers see in the darkness, a trail to guide their steps. All around them the smell of waste was thick and sour, choking their throats, making movement slow and painful.
^I thought you said this time the Iggaraout would be closer to the surface?^ Dobrin grunted, as some debris fell on him, getting in his hair, and a little in his eyes. He angrily brushed it away, spitting to make sure none got in his mouth. ^Somewhere clean.^
^I know, I know. I lied.^ She turned and smiled at Dobrin, who weakly smiled back.
^If the smell was all there was, I could deal with that. But I’m getting too tall for these little adventures.^
He had seemed to sprout overnight, growing three or four decitils. She had to bandage his head more than once, as he kept forgetting to bend down further. The last time she found black bugs in his hair—tough, angry ones that burrowed a little under the skin, making removal painful and difficult. She had to get away for a mroa and cry, and cursed herself for subjecting Dobrin to such a pitiful lie of a life.
He’ll be alright, he’s a strong boy, just like his father, she thought to herself. And more than anything, he wants to see the TELREC pay for his father’s death.
Even now he pushed ahead through the stench, through corridors filled with thick pools of stagnant, vermin-infested water, around damaged containers replete with toxic waste from long ago not because of his faith, but because it was the only constructive way he knew to take steps to vengeance. She may have been leading him and fifteen others to a temporary Iggaraout, but he was taking a few more steps to confront the men who killed his father.
Ellore couldn’t believe Hassous was back. Earlier in the roa she stumbled in the temporary headquarters, asking where the meeting was tonight. Ellore almost cried, she thought Hassous dead. No, she responded, Ail-jat was caught and killed by the TELREC, but Hassous hid, and quieted her mind like she was told, and the TELREC passed her by. As they now crept deeper and deeper into Foundation, making their way through the darkness, doubts Ellore kept quiet screamed in her mind. The TELREC are too focused on finding her to miss a quiet mind, especially one as untrained as Hassous. She seemed to lack some detail when Ellore scanned her mind, and that worried her most of all. She shared her concerns with Dobrin, and though Dobrin agreed to go on with the meeting, he had his mind fully open, scanning the area around them, monitoring the cast-net. Nijil, a close friend of Dobrin’s, well respected by Ellore, stayed with him, enhancing his scan with her own.
^Do you know what topside is like, Dobrin?^ she asked, moving up closer to him.
^No, I’m afraid I don’t Nijil. Have you been there often?^
^I was lucky, as the first place I worked was in a cast-station on Topside, near a small bit of land filled with trees. Though I haven’t been back in many cas, I keep those memories and treasure them as my most prized possession. I open my mind to you.^
Dobrin nested the images in Nijil’s mind. The clean air, filled with a sweet moisture from open areas of water, great white clouds untainted with pollution, the blackness of night that felt of freedom and joy, filled with the galaxy close but far, rising like a great Holis, keeping watch over them all. He had been growing closer to her over the past few roas, casting with her long into the night, as Ellore watched them nearby. Nijil was a little older than Dobrin, but she respected him immensely, and seemed to warm his heart each time they cast.
^Stop!^ he suddenly cast to all, and they froze in place. Something caught his mental gaze, hanging just outside the periphery of his awareness. He concentrated, and heard a small sound, like flesh moving against metal. Slowly, carefully, he moved his way between Nijil and another next to her. Several thick pipes ran along the corridor they were traveling, with an opening just wide enough to squeeze through.
Though I may have grown taller, I’m still just as thin, lucky for me.
He squeezed his way through, smelling something different as he did. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, and as they did, he ran the smell over in his mind.
Blood.
As he made the connection, a small figure came into resolution in front of him. It was a pale-white, child-sized figure, crouched tightly in a space too small to be believed. Its foot was slipping on something, and Dobrin could see it had cut its leg at some point, and the blood was trickling down, making it lose its grip. It moved like a broken meta, absently pulling back on its leg, mindlessly fighting against gravity. Dobrin breathed a heavy sigh, as he knew what he had found. He crawled back out, and after he held his mother by her shoulders, he finally cast to her.
^Sentinels.^
Her face snapped in a second. Plans she came up with since they first started meeting her followers came into focus. She ordered them back along the corridor, had them silence their minds. She had them burn the knowledge of others in their minds as she and Dobrin allocated much of that information to a space ready to be destroyed. She could nest fear quickly consumed her entire group, and she couldn’t blame them, as she was probably more terrified than anyone.
^Do you think we’ll make it out?^
^I don’t know, mother,^ cast Dobrin, struggling to focus his mind against his growing anxiety. ^Hassous’ mind must have been scanned, then wiped. If that’s the case, Uld is nearby.^
Damn him! Ellore couldn’t understand his fixation with her. They had only met twice, and she felt she wasn’t a remarkably beautiful woman. Uld could have had any woman on the planet, experienced any virt-life he chose.
But I want you.
She stumbled, feeling the weight of Uld’s mind.
^What is it?^ asked Dobrin, giving her his arm for support.
^Uld.^ She steeled herself against the nausea building in her throat, and cast to the group. ^All of you, we’re at the junction. Four paths—split, and run!^
They did, groups of four running down four different corridors, Dobrin taking a quick moment to wish Nijil well. He then ran with all his might, steering his mother down a corridor to the right, one from which he sensed the least enemy activity. They ran quickly and silently through a forest of debris, every step a danger of falling through half-rusted floorpanels or tripping over the webs of exposed pipes and wires. The darkness smothered them, stoking their fear and stifling their breath. Through half-collapsed tunnels and semi-flooded storerooms they fled, struggling to keep the terror in their minds at bay, straining with their eyes to see more than a few tils ahead.
^I can sense them, mother,^ he panted. ^Grunts, moving fast. They have split up, with three closing behind us.^
Ellore gleaned their position. ^Move faster Dobrin.^
She could nest Uld taunting her, laughing at her. He rolled over images in her mind—sick, depraved thoughts and sensations. She tried to shut him out, but she was focused too much on running. Dobrin knew something was distracting her, could see it in her halting movements.
^Focus, mother. We cannot be caught.^
They tried to move faster, but the Grunts were created for the hunt, to chase their prey and dispatch it quickly. Oblivious to pain, or fatigue, they gained quickly on Ellore and Dobrin, taking great lunging leaps over and through the ancient wasteland.
^Dobrin,^ she cast, slowing down, ^there is a service conduit just up ahead. It will be difficult, but we must try to go into there.^
^Alright. Drop back, so I can try to pry off its cover.^
They switched places, a
nd soon they were at the entrance. Dobrin dropped to his knees, wrapping his hands around the lip of the circular metal cover. The ground was caked with dust that seared his nostrils, forcing him to cough. The cover was slick with mold, black and thick. He dug in, and pulled with all his weight, slipping several times on the ground before he was able to get a good footing.
^They’re almost here!^ she cried. ^Shift over.^
She took the other side, and together, they pulled with all their strength. The metal cover groaned, and with a few more tugs, soon came off. Shadows could be seen rounding a corner behind them, the sound of guttural groans punctuating the silence, reverberating around them. They both froze for a moment out of fear, then Dobrin regained his senses.
^You first.^
Ellore scrambled inside, trying to find her footing in the darkness. Her foot found the first rungs of a ladder, and hurried down.
^Come on, Dobrin!^
He backed himself in and then caught sight of the first grunt. A massive creature, seven feet in height, with shoulders built high with muscle, it seemed to glow from a sickly light within, with pale skin that reminded him of lessons he took on the primitive races of Iqui. It slowed, searching quickly around the corridor, two others falling in behind.
^Move, Dobrin!^
He tried to move down quietly, moving his hands off the floor panel, but it shifted against the concrete
