by Jake Stone
I shrug.
Glancing at the torn wrappers of food on the ground, I see that the women have been eating the provisions from our storage packs—protein bars that taste like honey—while taking sips of water from the metal canisters stored on their backs. The sight of it awakens my hunger.
Chun Hei notices our wandering eyes and quickly hands Zorel and me a protein bar to eat. I thank her with a nod.
While our metabolisms have been augmented to run slower than that of regular soldiers, the scientists, according to the monks, have never been successful with removing the hunger pains.
I rip the wrapper with my teeth and take a bite, tasting the sweetened flavors of processed amino acids and carbohydrates. It’s good. But not great. The closest thing I can compare it to is a Nutri-Grain bar, that’s been left out for a week. But the provision does the trick, and with a couple of bites, I feel the hunger pains within me subside.
“Are you sure?” Atia asks.
“Oh yeah,” Zorel says, already scavenging through the supply bag to get another protein bar. “A complete network of passages within the mountain. Wasn’t bad, actually.”
Atia takes a moment to consider the information. “And who drew these … maps?” she asks in a suspicious tone.
“I’m guessing it was one of the members of the expedition,” I answer, taking a final bite of my bar. “It had to have been.”
“And why would you say that?” Petronelous asks.
“Because...” I toss the wrapper to the side. “They left the symbol of the republic underneath to let us know.”
Atia laughs derisively.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Are you that easily misled?” she replies.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s a trick, Xander!” Atia says. “I thought I already explained this to you. Scerapists can mimic the actions of humans. Drawing a symbol on the wall wouldn’t have been hard for any of those wretched things. They’re obviously trying to lure us into the tunnels, where they’ll have a better chance at killing us.”
“You don’t know that,” I say.
“And neither do you,” she replies.
I sigh, knowing she has a point. But still, I can’t help but feel a little frustrated with her condescending tone and quick retaliation. It’s like she’s always ready to shoot me down, whatever it is that I’m saying. In fact, the more public, the better. “What’s your problem with me?” I finally ask.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.
“Bullshit, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Every time I suggest something, every time I give my two cents, you’re always there to shoot me down.”
“There’s no need to take this personally,” Atia says.
“Then stop making it personal.”
“I’m not,” she says. “I’m just suggesting that we look at this from an objective standpoint.”
“I am looking at it from an objective standpoint.”
Our bickering puts the others on edge. They idle awkwardly to the side, hanging their heads like frightened children as their parents argue. Zorel, seeming to have lost her appetite, lowers her protein bar to the side, while Petronelous just stares into the fire. Chun Hei, on the other hand, sets about organizing the supplies in her medical bag.
“Think about it,” Atia continues. “What would be a better way into tricking us into our deaths? They want us to venture farther into the mountain. It cuts off our ability to retreat.”
“Always thinking like the enemy, huh?” I say.
“At least one of us has to!”
We hold each other’s stares, she a fearless beauty with piercing eyes, me a rock of rage with pursed lips. But this isn’t getting us anywhere. Time is still ticking, and the Republic army is still in peril. We need to move past this. And soon.
I let out a long slow breath as I calm myself, rearranging the form of my argument. Atia’s no good with a head-on approach. I need to make things less aggressive. “Look,” I say, scratching my chin. “Just give me the benefit of the doubt here. What if it had been the expedition who’d drawn the map and the warning? If that’s the case, then we would know exactly where they went, right?”
“We already know where they went,” Atia says, marching closer to face me. “We have the coordinates from the device that Alvarium gave you.”
“What we have are the latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates from their last communication relay,” I point out. “But it still left out the most important piece.”
“And what’s that?” Atia asks.
A heavy silence falls on the cavern as the women exchange glances. My words have set their minds to work, and they struggle to piece together what it is that I’m saying. Finally, from the far boulder, Chun Hei answers the question, “The depth reading,” she signs.
“Exactly,” I say, pointing at her.
Atia rolls her eyes, refusing to give in.
“Think about it,” I say. “The planet’s a freezing ball of wind and snow. We were only out there for a couple of hours, and we almost froze to death. Do you really think a group of clergymen and scientists—men and women with no survival training and no genetic modifications to help them survive in such a harsh environment—would’ve fared better?”
Atia crosses her arms in silence.
“No,” I continue. “That last communication relay came from inside the mountain. It had to have. And that map is our only way of finding them.”
Atia says nothing. Instead, she takes her time as she weighs my finding in her mind, her eyes turning to the tiny fire that burns low and slow in the center.
She’s considering everything that I’ve said, everything that has occurred, and like the leader she is, is examining it from every possible angle.
“Fine!” she says. “Let’s assume that you’re right. Let’s say that the expedition had been forced to enter the mountain like us. Do you really think they could’ve survived the hellish creatures inside?”
“No,” I say. “I don’t.”
She moves to speak, as if anticipating my argument, then stops as she realizes what it is that I just said. “You don’t?” she asks, confused. “And why’s that?”
Zorel and I exchange a glance, our eyes still as we remember what we saw in the cave. “There was something else,” I say. “Something written just beneath the drawings.”
“And what was that?” she asks.
“The imprint of a hand,” Zorel answers. “In blood.”
Atia falls silent, while both Petronelous and Chun Heir lift from their boulders.
“A warning,” I add, glancing around at the women, “to any unlucky soul thinking about venturing farther inside the mountain.”
“And yet you still want to go?” Atia asks.
“I don’t think we have an option,” I say.
“Even if you’re right,” Atia says. “There’s no way we can be sure that the passage will lead us to where we need to go. We could waste a day, maybe two before we realize that we’ve made a mistake. Then what? We’d be caught in the orbital bombardment and perhaps captured within a collapsed cave.”
“But what if we aren’t?” I ask. “What if this is the fastest way to discovering the planet’s secret and helping the Republic army? Shouldn’t we at least give it a try? Because the way I see it, this is our only chance, the only way to do what we’ve been tasked to do.
“And if there’s something greater and more deadly waiting for us inside, so be it. We’ll face it together like we’ve done from the start—as a team. Is that not the role of a Battle Saint?”
Atia scowls, frustrated with my noose. I’ve used her sense of honor and duty against her, and now she must submit to it. With a snort, she turns to the others. “So that’s it, then, huh? Put our faith in a crudely drawn map and venture into the heart of the mountain where greater foes wait? Do you agree with Xander’s plan?”
Of all the women, only Chun Hei has the c
ourage to meet our captain’s gaze. “You said it yourself, captain,” she signs, “the storm is too powerful.”
A dreaded silence lingers as Atia finds herself outnumbered, and as happy as I am that the women have chosen my plan over hers, I can’t help but feel bad for her. She’s the best of us, the hardest working, the most disciplined. Just within the short time with the Battle Saints, she’s already earned a number of accolades and promotions. Meeting her gaze, I have the decency to look reticent.
“Very well,” Atia says, nodding silently to herself in acceptance. “If this is the path that the corfew has laid before us, then we shall take it. But know this, we’ll need to stay together, no groups, no splitting up.”
“Agreed,” I say.
A moment passes before she turns away and marches toward the far wall where our supplies are stored. “Then we must go.”
“Now?” I ask.
“The longer we linger, the more time Lord Bantha has to prepare his trap. We must hurry. For the monsters of the mountain will surely learn of our presence and soon they will come for us.”
Chapter Ten
The tunnel is long and seemingly endless.
I check the heads up display of my visor and realize that we’ve been walking for close to an hour now, trekking over the rocky terrain that seems to hinder us at every step. It’s as if the mountain itself is trying to ward us back.
I stare down at the sharp stalagmites rising threateningly from the ground, forcing us to move around them with careful steps. Occasionally, a tiny creature will explode from one of the rocky spikes and bat us with their bodies, frustrated as they try to break through our armor. Zorel sparks them with a zap of electricity and they quickly flee. But it’s still enough to freak me out.
Back at the entrance, where we began our journey, the air was still cold. But as we move deeper into the tunnels, lowering through winding passages that twist and turn, it becomes uncomfortably warmer and humid.
Our visors quickly fog. Our boots begin to slip. And the water that drips from the ceiling splatters annoyingly against our armor.
This isn’t anything like the ice caves that I’d learned about in school, those underground labyrinths that form beneath the surface of glaciers to create a majestic wonderland. Instead, I feel as if I’m stuck in an oven, cooking.
For a moment, I consider bringing the journey to a halt, turning around so we can reassess the situation. But I don’t. Whatever noticeable heat that’s occurring is nothing compared to the freezing temperatures outside. My only concern is how much hotter it can get?
“Up there.” Petronelous’s voice sparks over the com.
Glancing up, I see a ceiling of rat-like rodents with wings hanging upside down with their eyes closed. Bats? Looking closer to make sure, I’m suddenly struck with terror when I realize how big they are. Each is the size of an owl, and their wings look as if they can stretch around a man’s head. Eyeing them carefully, my fingers tighten around my rectifier, readying for their attack.
Their noses twitch, a subconscious reaction as their senses are struck by our presence. They know we’re here. Thankfully, the sealants of our armor protect us, so we continue marching, slowly but purposefully.
The floor is even worse. I cringe as I see a carpet of fat worms writhing around our boots. They contort disgustingly along the ground, their scaled bodies sliding over each other in an orgy of filth. According to the monks, Zendal had ensnared not only humans into his ranks, but a whole multitude of bugs and beasts—creatures who live in the dark and lament the light of the sun.
“Oh shit,” I whisper through the com, coming to a halt and lifting up one of my feet.
The resonance of our footsteps provokes the little bastards, and I watch in fear as a couple of them try to burrow into my boots. Thankfully, the titanium armor is too thick to penetrate and the little creature eventually worms away.
“Crawlers,” Zorel says over the com.
“You’re familiar with them?” Atia asks.
“We have a strain of them on my planet,” she answers. “They live in the jungle caves of the eastern continents. They live off of shit and other insects, and, if they’re lucky, the occasional tourist.”
Bugs of any sort disgust me. I remember reading about one creature in particular. The collipsa. A black arachnid with twenty eyes and sharp fangs that latches itself to the back of a person’s neck where it lays its eggs into the brain. The memory of it brings a shudder to my bones, and I have to tighten the grip around my rifle to remain calm.
“Look,” Petronelous says, pointing to the ceiling where some of the alien bats are fighting. It’s a quick skirmish between two of the bigger ones, that throws the rest of its brethren into a wild flutter. The larger bat bites the smaller one on the neck, ripping a piece of its flesh, and the wounded bat falls to the ground, where its twitching body is instantly consumed by a mountain of crawlers.
I watch, both horrified and fascinated by the crawlers’ efficiency. Like a wave of destruction, they leave nothing behind, devouring and ingesting whatever piece of meat or flesh they can nibble. When the crawlers are done, and the mountain dissipates, I see only the skeleton of a dead carcass which is so clean that it looks as if it's been lying there dead for years.
And these are only the worms.
“Come,” Atia says, her voice resolute and calm. “Let us continue.”
The path through the mountain is winding and barely comprehensible. Even with the map that we’ve recorded into our database we feel lost. Surprises come at us at every turn, leading us one second through a straight path, only to trick us into a hundred-foot fall the next.
Every once in a while, we’re stifled by a narrow passage that forces us to squeeze through. We push and shove and break rocks apart, always mindful of the mountain, always careful not to cause a collapse. And those are probably the most difficult moments of our journey, when we’re sandwiched between thick walls of rock and suffocated with claustrophobic tunnels barely large enough to crawl through. Those are the moments when the fears of our pasts come to light, and we try to remain calm.
“This tunnel’s tighter than my asshole,” Zorel says.
“I doubt that,” Petronelous replies.
We laugh at the joke, allowing our selves a moment of respite, only to be disheartened again when we see another stretch of narrow tunnel laid out before us.
Just a bit more, I tell myself, trying to breathe through the fear sitting on my chest. According to the map, there should be another tunnel up ahead, one that opens up into a smaller cavern where we can take a breath and rest.
My biggest fear is that when I reach the end, I will find only rock and realize that there’s no way of going back. This is the foe that not even my battle armor or war training can protect me from, the foe that will seep into my mind and slowly turn me crazy.
Centering myself with a breath, I push the fear from my heart and keep going, assuring myself that it can’t end like this. It just can’t. Can it?
“I see something,” Atia says over the com.
The announcement fills me with hope. “Are you serious?”
“A glow,” she says. “Just up ahead. Hurry!”
We crawl in a line like roaches scurrying up a drain pipe, anxious to free ourselves from the suffocating tunnel that has plagued us for the past hour. When we finally reach the end, we’re relieved to see a junction-like cavern that connects to a number of larger passages.
“Great,” Zorel says. “Just what we need—more tunnels.”
“At least it’s airy,” I say, retracting my helmet to feel a swift breeze rising out of one of the passages.
Petronelous quickly follows suit,
“Is anyone hurt?” Chun Hei signs, taking us in with a sweeping glance. She clings to the strap of her medical bag, unwilling to lay it down until she’s sure that none of us are hurt.
“I’m fine,” Petronelous says, despite her sweat-beaded face. “I could use a little water, though.�
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Zorel is quick to help, pulling out one of the canisters from the bag and handing it to the master swordsman. Petronelous takes a giant gulp, coughing as the excess water slips down her windpipe, then drinks again, gulping it down until it’s all gone. Some of the water spills from her small mouth, dripping from her chin and onto the chest plate of her armor. The act is so messy, so primal that I’m sucker punched by the sexiness of it.
“What are you looking at?” Zorel asks with a grin.
“Huh?” I blush. “Um, nothing, I was just…”
“Sure,” Zorel says, handing me one of the waters. “Maybe this will cool you down, Hot stuff.”
I take the bottle from her hand, and turn away, watching as Petronelous continues to sweat. Why is she overheating so badly?
My thoughts turn to our time at the monastery, remembering the first few days when we were stripped naked and clamped to hospital beds, forced to endure the multitude of liquid concoctions injected into us by beady-eyed scientists, who ignored our cries for help as the liquid burned in our veins.
My breath hitches as I remember the sleepless nights, the painful hours, the moments of agony as my bones grew painfully slow, and the fibers of my muscles densified.
Now, we are tall, we are stronger. But none of us, even Zorel whose elemental power has grown far more powerful than before, were gifted with such spectacular strength that Petronelous now has.
“Your metabolism is spiking,” Chun Hei signs to the redhead. “You need to sit down.”
“Rest is for the tired,” she replies in a stoic voice.
“Then meditate,” Atia tells her.
“I’m…” Petronelous breaks off, hand rising to her face, as she slinks to the side.
I catch her just in time, wrapping my arms around her waist and steadying her to the ground. She’s like a wet noodle in my arms, eyes fluttering, skin flushed red.
“We need to get her some where cooler,” Atia says.
I look around, suddenly feeling a swift breeze rising from one of the adjacent tunnels. “How ‘bout in there?”
Atia narrows her eyes at the darkened entrance. “Is is safe?”
