“The initial blast rocked the mine, so watch your step on entry. The walls and floors are a little tilted. You’ll be issued protective gear, so don’t worry about making babies.” Hope looked over and smiled at the low-lev, and a nervous laugh sputtered to life around the room. “And so—” she motioned to two guards at the chamber door, who cycled it open. A line of gofers carrying crates of rubberized protective suits came in. “Everybody suit up, so you can begin. Good luck, Assault K. Stay safe down there.”
West noted a glare behind Richter’s eyes as he looked at the woman.
The display blinked off, and Benton caught the marble. The three left the chamber to the sound of squeaking rubber being pulled over street clothes.
“Michael? We’ll catch up to you.”
Balfour winked at Richter as he continued down the shaft.
“James?”
“I can’t believe we’re fucking going through with this.”
Benton exhaled slowly. “There’s no other—”
“There’s plenty of other ways.”
“The probes didn’t tell us anything. We need human—”
“Rats. You need rats for the maze. We don’t know what that thing is, but we’re still sending people in to get slaughtered.”
She bristled at the word. “The last two groups—I wouldn’t call it a slaughter.”
“Still ended up dead.”
“No.” Her eyebrows narrowed defensively. “Two lived.”
“And then fucking died.”
She started walking again. “Why did you even bring me here? If you don’t believe in what we’re doing?”
He grabbed her hand and anchored her in place. “Because you’re brilliant. I thought you’d figure it out. I didn’t think anyone else’d have to die.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
He let go of her hand in frustration, raising his own helplessly. “You haven’t disappointed me.”
“Will you still say that when the K group comes out dead?”
“I don’t know.”
She walked away.
Jennings had gone home. Apparently his wife was sick. Cervera sat in his chair. None of the engineers seemed to mind.
“It can’t be easy for you, I know.” She said, half-watching the eyelines begin to light up. “Being here.”
“Hmm?” Michael Balfour turned away from watching a disembodied conversation between two of the fodders.
“It can’t be easy, seeing those two all over each other.” The unspoken implication.
“James needed help. You, too. It was the least I could do.”
“Who would have thought, all of us back together again?”
“Not all of us.”
The room was suddenly a torrent of chair squeaks and throat clears.
“You could have said no.”
“No. I couldn’t turn this down.” Couldn’t turn him down.
“Couldn’t turn her down?”
She has no idea. Michael smiled.
“Speak of the devil,” Cervera offered seats to the returning Richter and Benton. “Judas cow ready?”
“The herd’s getting suited. The lead’s been briefed. He thinks we’re after gold. Enthusiastic sort. They’ll follow him.” Benton sat between Cervera and Balfour. Richter noticed. He took a chair as far away as the room allowed.
“Eyelines?” Cervera performed a quick survey.
“Allll—up.” An engineer activated the last of the fifty.
“Good.” Cervera leaned forward. She was starting to like this dance. “Send in K group.”
“No good,” Maggie grumbled. “They’re lying to us.” She adjusted the tiny camera mount banded to her head. “And I don’t fuckin’ care if you’re listenin’.” She let the microphone boing back into place.
West grinned as he locked his bubble in place, the cool wash of canned air displacing his internal warmth. He grinned, but he felt it, too.
“All right, everyone. Ready?” The low-lev was a little too eager. West thought he knew something. “Assault K, move out.” Authority fills a void, especially at the prospect of gold.
Walking down canted corridors.
The groan of a metallish bulkhead.
“What the—”
The world became light, and Maggie fell to the ground.
Screaming, life in gaps, brilliant white light, brilliant white light. West knew he was screaming, knew it, but couldn’t hear himself, the room was so light. A ball at the center, a light, and fingers, reaching, grasping. He didn’t exactly have to throw himself to the ground; he fell beside Maggie. The last thing he saw was the light, that light, reaching out and through the fifty, K group, eyes open, lances of white erupting from the ball, the ball at the center, reaching, and
“I’m going down there.” Richter’s chair tipped as he stood up. “This has to stop.”
“James—”
“Don’t fucking James me, Tony. We have to stop this.” The door closed behind him.
“What do we—”
“I’m going, too.” And Hope Benton did.
The eyelines were dying, one by one by ten.
“Mike, get on the—”
“Sorry, Tony. I have to stop them.” Balfour ran.
Cervera wasn’t going anywhere.
It was a heartbeat.
West thought he was still alive.
Blood. Gushing from his nose, thin, hesitant trails from his eyes. The worst headache. He rolled to his side and vomited across the composite floor. There were bodies around him, and something had changed. There were bodies around him, and one was alive.
Maggie coughed beside him, a wracking, horrible affair. He crawled the feet to her, the distance seeming miles. Wiped vomit and blood from his face as he touched her. She started to cry.
“Did you see it?”
Cervera stood over the engineer’s glass, jaw dropped. There were lifesigns on two. Not flickering, strong. They were talking. Finally. A breakthrough. Two survivors who weren’t squealing bags of smeared flesh and agony. Finally.
West nodded, nodded and sobbed, stroking Maggie’s hair, wiping tears from her. He nodded. He’d seen the light. They’d both seen everything.
“James!” Her voice echoed down the corridor. Richter heard, but he kept running. “James, please!”
He came to the chamber door, slid to a stop across the slick, tilted floor. He could hear Benton running to catch up. He opened the door anyway.
Two people looked up. Gray eyes. Forty-eight corpses around them. The light at the room’s center throbbed.
Hope slammed into his back, grabbing his coat and pulling him into the corridor. She shoved him against the wall, stood between him and the thrumming, screaming ball of light.
He turned to her, his eyes distant, his mind lifetimes away. He saw Balfour coming down the corridor, the hallway of an alien vessel, forty-eight corpses, two survivors, the light.
“James—
A palpable thrust of brilliance tore from the light at the chamber’s center. West and Maggie clawed into each other, the song of the trillions broadcasting above them, the light reaching out, out, out
When Richter came around, one of the K group survivors was cradling his head. A girl. The other crouched beside Michael, whose head lolled toward him. Richter’s heart stopped an instant when he saw Michael’s cold gray eyes.
“Hope?” He coughed out, choking on something copper. “Hope?”
“She’s—” The girl’s cold hand was against his cheek.
“Hope?”
The man tending to Michael whispered something.
“What?” Richter tried to get up, found himself weak in the aftermath of the light, drained. Something was fundamentally different.
West turned around, a small motion of his head indicating the chamber.
Richter threw Maggie’s hands from him, crawled slowly, painfully into the orb room. Made it to the edge of the drop into the bowl. Saw what remained of Hope Benton curled peacefully against the corpses of Assault K.