Part V

"Korbyn! Touch me again… and I'll break every bone in your hand," Ellie Crichton hissed to the darkness behind her. Save for the vague impression of a more solid portion of darkness at her back, there was little to distinguish it from the surrounding darkness of the corridor. Undaunted, she turned to swat indignantly until she grabbed a fist full of Asher Korbyn's jacket.

 "It was an accident. I tripped. You were just…there," he returned. But his voice betrayed him with laughter. "If you took off these shackles maybe I--"

 "Shhhh!" Rachel Northway hushed from the dim somewhere behind the hulking commando. "Both of you, knock it the hell off!"

 Grudgingly, Ellie released her grip on his jacket and turned around, reaching out once more to find the wall to her left. For what felt like a small eternity they had been blindly scrambling along the pitch-black corridors beneath the sprawling smuggler's compound. Using the portable light would have made them a literal walking target for Ix or his men. Unwilling to trust Korbyn to lead the way, Ellie stood at the front of their small huddle, feeling along the walls and testing out his directions.  

Ellie stumbled forward, flat hand pressed against the rough stone wall. The air was heavy and stale. Sweat ran into her eyes, stinging. The dark seemed to seep into her lungs, pressing the air out. There were dim whispers in the back of her brain, hinting that the shadows could hold much worse than the very real danger posed by Ix and his lieutenants. 

She recognized it as the same whispering voice from the long wakeful nights spent in wide-eyed terror as a child, standing vigil against the imagined creatures that lurked in the darkness around her bed.  

"Crichton." Korbyn's heavy hand landed on the middle of her back.  

She startled. "What!" 

"You've stopped…" 

"I know that…" She muttered, resuming her pace. Blood rushed to her face and neck and she was for once grateful for the dark. "Of course I know that." 

Her flat palm soon met with open air instead of stone. It was another intersection. How many had this made? Three? Four? In the dark, her orientation was askew.  

"Corner."  

"Left. For about… ten metras. Then another left." Korbyn said as he leaned against her back. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.  His deep gritty voice was a mere dench from her ear. It ran a strange tremor along her spine that, under different circumstances, would not be entirely unpleasant.  

"No tricks, Korbyn," Ellie said, abruptly shoving an elbow back and into his sternum. She was greeted with his satisfactory grunt.  

"No. I'm all out at the moment." He growled. 

Ellie knew his truce was uneasy at best. Korbyn would turn on them the instant an opportunity presented itself. And it was, after all, something she and the deserter had in common. It was, after all, a matter of instinct. She chose to focus  on that more distinct danger than the nebulous one that permeated the blackness ahead.  

"Rachel… " Ellie prompted. It was a fight to keep the surety in her voice. The moments beyond the next were as bleak and featureless as the air around her. There was no plan. 

The human woman's answer did not instill her with great confidence. "Sounds right… I'm pretty sure that's right." 

Ellie drew in a deep breath and planted her left shoulder on the corner. Swiftly she rolled around the edge into the new corridor. Perhaps it was a trick of her weary brain but it did seem less dark. A faint breeze played at her hair, cooling the sweat on her skin. There was an exit to the outside up ahead. It could be the right way. Could be… 

Reaching back to snag a fist full of Korbyn's shirt, she plodded on again into the new darkness. 

#

The neat row of glass vials and canisters exploded in a violent wave of glass shards and metal. The tart smell of tinctures and astringents wafted through the air. Another pulse blast took out a low shelf under the medical diagnostic equipment, sending it plummeting to the floor. 

"Will you stop that?" Neesa commanded, rolling her eyes. She cast an irritated glance at Lucien Ix.  

"It helps me think!" Ix said, frowning. Nevertheless he holstered the pulse gun.  

The unsteady portable lights that illuminated the deserted medical bay made the shadows twist and scamper in unsettling ways. Regardless of her annoyance, Neesa huddled closer to him. Oblivious to her unease, he returned his anger to the groggy Liet.  

"Now… let me understand this," Lucien began again. His voice was dreadfully calm and it made Enid and his other two lieutenants grateful it was not directed at them. "Northway told you to release Korbyn… and you did?"

Liet squinted up into the angry face of his employer and promptly began to blubber.  "But there was a contagion…Northway… she said she needed Korbyn to confer--" 

"Confer?" asked Lucien, his face growing dark with rage. 

"Yes… that's it! Confer." Liet asserted, nodding eagerly. 

"Ah. I see." Lucien straightened and paced the length of the room. He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Liet… before he was unwise enough to leave our fold… have you ever known Asher Korbyn to be the type of individual with which a scientist would need to… confer?" 

Liet remained silent, his doughy face crumpling as he realized Lucien's query for what it was worth: one of those questions Lucien asked more to hear the sound of his own voice than a response. Liet had to admit that, in retrospect, the prospect of consulting Korbyn for his intellect was, at best, questionable.  

"But the… gingivitis." Liet protested weakly.  

Lucien drew in a deep breath and leaned over the rotund Zenetian. "Liet… The girl… the doctor… and Korbyn are missing. And somewhere lose in my home is the Peacekeeper that murdered your brothers. Think very carefully about the next words that come out of your mouth." 

#

 Tristis moved as part of the darkness. It suited him. This absolute dark. His pace quickened. The prize would be near, somewhere in the earthen tunnels of the compound. 

The greenish glow of the tracking node did little to soften the expression on his face. It made him look sicklier if anything, more true to the demon he had become. Had he of known the image he presented, Tristis, in his former self would have been very pleased. He had always valued fear. It was a powerful means of persuasion and control. But now such musings were irrelevant.  

There was a subtle shift in the shadows ahead. He canted his head, but his failing eye could not adjust to the low light well enough. His hearing was still excellent. He was not alone. The noises up ahead were unmistakable: voices, footsteps, and the slither of fabric against the wall.   

A smile stole over his face. Its appearance would have made the battle-hardened commando shudder. With a dim excited rush, he wondered what it would be like to kill in such darkness.  

The play of voices in the black terrain bounced off the barely glimpsed walls to find him. One word carried on the stale heavy air, emitted by the scurry of shadows that passed.  It made Tristis pause in his tracks. 

“Crichton…”

 #

 It was difficult to pay attention to Lucien or the others. The sounds of their voices ran past her like a current of water. It was nonsense babble in the face of what Neesa sensed in the press of darkness outside the room.  

A small crease formed over Neesa's brow. Chewing pensively on her bottom lip, she turned once more to regard the black-shrouded doorway of the medical suite. There was nothing to be seen there, of course. Nevertheless, a shiver moved over her spine and played icy fingers into the back of her neck. 

For Neesa, the room was filled with the mingling of adrenaline-laced fear and raw fury. It came from the men around her like a radiation. She had stood witness to such scenes before and had quickly learned to ignore these broadcasts of emotions. But what the darkness held now was far too powerful to be dismissed.  

This sensation that filtered in from the dark was something that seemed to feed on fear, seeking it out. Sometimes it was near, seeming to hover just beyond the door. Sometimes it was so distant, she might have convinced herself that she had imagined it. There was something very wicked moving through the house and Neesa wanted nothing of it. 

"…Neesa."  

At the mention of her name, her attention swiveled back to the tense knot of faces, carved from the darkness by the portable lights. They muttered on in their plotting for revenge and destruction, oblivious. 

How could they not sense it? Not feel it? A deaf man could hear it. A blind man could glimpse it.  

She turned wide amber eyes at Lucien. He was probably the most closed-minded of any of the Sebaceans she had ever known. It cut him off from the unseen world that surrounded her on a daily basis. Little wonder that things often caught him completely by surprise. 

"We can go through the sub-tunnels… the power's been cut. There's no way the doors to the exterior will open. Korbyn and the two tralks can be content to wander around in the dark for a few arns." Lucien said. He turned to Enid and the temporarily reprieved Liet. "First things first… the Peacekeeper." 

"No!" Neesa, grabbed his arm. "Don't go out there." 

Lucien frowned at her. "What the frell are you talking about, Neesa?" 

"There's something… else… out there." She backed away from the door, trying to tug him with her. Her hands locked around the hand planted on the stock of his pulse gun. "That won't make a difference to it." 

"Ridiculous." Lucien returned. Nevertheless, he paused, studying her face. Something in his own expression seemed to border on genuine concern. Neesa sensed his anger waver slightly. 

"It came here for something. Let it take what it came for and leave." She spoke quickly, an edge of hysteria seeping into her voice. Her eyes remained fixed on the darkness beyond. 

"It?" Enid smirked. The Zenetian had always hated her and now he was capitalizing on the appearance of weakness. "You mean… the Peacekeeper?" 

She shook her head slightly, swallowing. "It was a Peacekeeper." 

"Why is he here, Neesa?" Lucien stood between her and the doorway, cutting off her view. He placed his hands on her shoulders. 

"It wants to destroy… but that's too simple a word." 

"Stop talking nonsense." Enid said. "Luc… You’re not going to listen to a hysterical female who’s afraid of the dark, are you? She's fahrbot. It's only one Sebacean." 

But Lucien’s attention remained on her. “What are you talking about, Neesa? You now why he is here?” 

"The spheroid," she said quietly. "But there's something…else. And I truly pity her."

#

"Frell!" Asher spat. The security grid’s flat red readout accepted the insult with mute indifference and remained resolute in its refusal to change its opinion. 

"Frell what?" Crichton asked at his elbow.   

He was very aware of her leaning against him, trying to peer over his shoulder. Purposefully he turned, blocking her view of the panel. The readings on the locking mechanism were irrelevant, but it he knew it would serve to annoy her further.

"It's not working, Crichton." He said. "Even the secondary--" 

"I thought you said you knew a way around that,” she said reaching around him to try for the controls. 

"It would appear there are new security barriers." He said, swatting her hand away. 

"Fabulous. So, what’s plan B?" Northway asked.  

The physician slipped under Asher’s outstretched arm and squinted at the panel, her face faintly outlined by the red glow thrown off by the controls. Briefly, she clicked on the small torch, illuminating their small huddle. 

“You’re asking me?” Asher jerked his chin at Crichton. “Ask her… I’m just along for the ride, Northway.” 

The girl stepped back slightly, no doubt feeling their expectant silence like a heavy weight.  

"Well, Lara Croft…. What’s next?" Northway asked, turning the light onto the girl. 

“What?” Crichton stammered, squinting into the beam. She shoved the light away. “Do I have to think of everything?” 

There was a dry crunch of gravel underfoot. Distant voices echoed to them. The dark twisting corridors camouflaged the source of the sounds. They seemed to come from everywhere at once. 

"Someone's coming!" Northway hissed, snapping the light off. 

Asher felt the girl pull him into the thicker fold of shadows away from the door panel.  

“No… I’ve got a better idea.” Asher easily freed himself. He quickly grabbed her arm and maneuvered her slight frame between him and the wall.  

She instantly began fight him. "Korbyn! What are you--" 

"Shut up! 

He clapped a heavy hand down over her mouth, cutting off the remainder of her indignant protest.  

Gritting his teeth against the noise that seemed huge in the stillness, he shouldered the panel near the security interface inward. It swung with groan of disused hinges, imparting them to another darkness. He pushed the girl into the space ahead of him before she could squirm away. 

"Northway…" he whispered, reaching out in the darkness to snag the doctor. "Here… in here." 

"What is this?" Northway asked, squeezing past him.  

His voice was a hollow whisper in the tiny metal space. "Another dark room, only smaller."  

"Smart ass."  

“Access space for the shielding panels,” he explained, carefully pulling the cover in place behind him. “Runs the length of the outer walls. It was here when Ix took over, I doubt he even knows about it.” 

"It smells like something died in here." 

"I wouldn't doubt it." 

There was a hollow clatter of metal and the unmistakable sound of a body part striking a much harder, unyielding surface. It was followed immediately by a squelched yelp.  

“Frell it!” 

The light snapped on. A small circle of light framed Crichton's angry face. She was rubbing disconsolately at her scalp and glaring at him. 

"Oh… sorry, Crichton. I should have warned you about that." Asher called, not sounding very apologetic. 

Crichton took a stride toward him. "We should have left you back in the holding cell." 

"Sure… but you didn't." Asher grinned. 

"Can it!" Northway commanded, standing vigil at the entrance.  

The voices of their pursuers grew louder until they seemed to hover just beyond the door. Asher leaned an ear against the surface. Finally shaking his head he withdrew. The voices had faded. 

"Gone." He said. "Sounded like Enid… They’re definitely looking for us." 

"Can we get out through this passage?" Northway asked. 

He shook his head. "Not sure. I can think of better places to get lost." 

Northway squinted into the darkness and panned the light. It revealed only the dull metal walls covered with ages of corrosion and little more.  

"I've got a better question.” She said. “Where did Ellie go?" 

#

 "Wait a minute!” She called. “You can't just walk away." 

Rachel stood in the middle of the corridor, and watched his receding back for a moment. Regardless of her protest, he seemed to be doing an impressive job of it. 

"Watch me, Northway." He answered over his shoulder. 

"Now… wait just one second!" Rachel rushed up behind him. She planted a firm hand on his shoulder. 

"For what?" Korbyn whirled on her.  

"El’s still in there. We've got to go back for her." She protested. 

"What do you mean by we, Northway?" Not waiting for her answer, he resumed his pace. She watched as he awkwardly rummaged through a pocket of his ratty jacket and withdrew a piece of metal. In the dimness she recognized it as a surgical instrument from her lab. The crafty bastard had palmed it.  

"We… as in us. We can't just leave her!" She said. “She needs help!” 

"Are you sure we're talking about the same person?" He asked sarcastically. Korbyn paused to pick at the metal cuff’s lock with the scalpel. "Forget it… I've had enough of that woman to last a cycle." 

"They why did you have them get me… when she was dying? She wouldn't have made it, even when she told you not to help her." Rachel returned. She stepped into his path. He deftly maneuvered around her, uttering an annoyed growl. Korbyn did not look up from his task. 

"She saved your neck and she didn't have to." Rachel prodded. She swooped again in front of him, this time keeping one step ahead of his attempts to dodge around her.  "That means nothing to you?" 

He looked up at her finally, pausing in his tracks. Korbyn held out his cuffed wrists, scalpel in hand, indicating that he wanted her to help pick the lock.  

"She can take care of herself, Northway.” He said. “She’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t open that mouth and insult the wrong person." 

Rachel looked down at his hands and instead, folded her arms against her chest. Her eyes narrowed into a dare. "She said you were like this, but I couldn't believe it. Not after the way you looked in the surgical bay… when it looked like she wouldn’t make it." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, woman." He growled, when it was apparent that she was not going to help him. 

"I guess not." Rachel said, angrily. She jabbed a finger at his chest. "There's only room in there for you, isn't there?"  

#

 Ellie had only intended to search out the passage. Instead, in the darkness, she lost her bearings. Again, she cursed her idiocy. 

Heart seeking to escape her throat, she stood in the black, waiting for the fear to tire of her. So far, it had not. Ellie told herself that it was a primitive reaction, a healthy anxiety about the unknown that served to protect. There was nothing else in the darkness, save her and the huddle of hidden shapes that served as obstacles. 

The clamor in her ears slowly faded. Her pulse slowed. She no longer gulped at the air so greedily. Slowly she felt her way to the wall she was certain that had been at her right when she walked in. Its cool surface beneath her hand brought a measure of surety. The fear slipped down her spine another notch, its grip weakening.  

There was a sound, nearby, once, very deliberate and unmistakable. The tread of a heavy boot on metal grating. 

"Prowler pilot."  

The voice scurried out the blackness to greet her. She whirled, blind, uncertain. There was a shallow footstep, uneven irregular. Then nothing more for a long dreadful moment. Her heart renewed its escape through her throat.  

The corner of her mind that housed reason and craved the sanity of light ended its struggle. Ellie knew the owner of the voice. It was a certainty that she dreaded exploring.  

"It's you… isn't it?" She said quietly, marveling at the calm in her own voice. 

The black did not answer. There was a pause, a hesitance.  

"He sent you… didn't he, Tristis?” She husked. “Scorpius." 

She heard his breath catch, as though the mention of the name were a surprise.  But when it spoke again, the amusement was obvious. It was immensely satisfied with his quarry.  "Crichton." 

An icy finger touched her heart. "You know my name. Tristis never called me by my human name." The heavy footfalls circled closer. The small hairs stood up over her arms and neck. In the still, stale air its ragged, wet breathing seemed too close. There was a hitch to the sound. She realized it was laughter.

 "What do you want?" she said, her throat constricting.

 His answer was swift and chillingly simple.

 "You."  

Part 6

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