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last year, but I never spoke to anyone or met anyone. As far as I know, the
Preservationists are nothing more than a straw adversary, a front for a Mag
op."
"And as far as I know," Kane said grimly, "I'm helping a traitor escape from a
deserved death sentence."
The man and woman regarded each other silently. Then Brigid gave Kane her
smile. "Paranoia is such a subtle yet devastating weapon, isn't it?"
"You're not paranoid if they really are after you, Baptiste," Kane shot back.
"There's the conundrum. I don't know if they really are after me."
"Trust me on this. They are."
She sighed heavily. "What's the plan?"
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"I'm making it up as I go along. For the moment, we're hitting the Pits."
Brigid tried to consider his words dispassionately, realized she couldn't, so
she started running again.
"Okay."
Kane fell into step beside her. "What convinced you?"
"If this were a trick, you would have described a cunning and devious scheme,
full of twistie-turnie strategies."
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"Because I'm flying by my ass, you have faith in me?"
"Sure," she panted.
"Oh."
They spoke no more, devoting their breath to running. They sprinted along the
corridor, around corners, following bends, keeping close to the walls. Brigid
followed Kane's lead. He seemed to know where he was going. When she heard the
steady throb of machinery, she realized they were on E Level, the
manufacturing facility.
Coming to a stop at an L-junction, Kane gestured for her to keep back, then
peered around the left-hand corner. A moment later, he waved her forward.
A long vista of great machines opened up, arrayed in a number of extended
lines. Mechs and techs wearing protective goggles and headgear operated the
equipment. She saw drill presses, forges, smelters, crucibles. The combined
rattles, clanks and roars were nearly deafening. Some of the machines shot
sparks, emitting the metallic odor of ozone, while others spit jets of steam.
Chain conveyors rattled in jerks and starts. A forest of girders supported a
trussed network of overhead catwalks.
She had never been here before, and she understood why.
The teeth-jarring racket, the sparks, the clouds of steam, gave it an aspect
of a pocket-size hell on earth, populated by damned souls.
This was the level devoted to feeding comfort to the Enclaves, producing and
manufacturing, and in many instances, reproducing and remanufacturing tools,
weapons, engine parts and fixtures of all sorts.
Along one wall, protected by a heavy-gauge-wire-screened enclosure, was a line
of humped nuclear generators, which provided the power. The wall behind them
was studded with meters, dials and glass-
encased readouts. She wondered if Kane intended to knock out the energy
source, since it was such an obvious target. Instead, he pointed directly
ahead.
"See that door on the far wall?" He spoke loudly to be heard over the
incessant clanking, rattling roar.
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She narrowed her eyes, wishing she had her glasses. She tried to follow his
pointing finger, but her view was obscured by billows of steam and spark
showers. "No."
"Doesn't matter. Follow me. Don't look around. No matter what happens, just
keep going."
Kane started off, walking in brisk, long-legged strides. Brigid followed him.
The noise, the smell, the heatall were a physical assault. She felt her bones
vibrating in rhythm with the crashing machinery. The air was stagnant, choked
with the thick odors of grease and superheated metal.
She kept her eyes on Kane's black-shelled back, trying to imitate his steady,
measured tread. Several times she had to dodge a flurry of sparks and once she
barely avoided being scalded by a hissing spurt of steam.
All of this old ironmongery was incongruous, she realized, powered as it was
by atomic generators. She knew more-advanced equipment existed before the
nukecaust. Then again, she chided herself, the more advanced the equipment,
the more educated the people had to be in order to operate it.
But then, she remembered her recent presentencing exchange with the baron, and
his views. In this tortured period of humankind's existence on earth,
knowledge must also bring death.
The few people in their path barely glanced at them. Once they saw Kane's
armored figure looming out of the mist, they immediately directed their
attention elsewhere. They probably feared a surprise inspection was under way.
Long before they reached the door, Brigid was perspiring and breathing
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heavily. The lead-shielded door bore an exclamatory warning in white paint
Absolutely No Admittance Beyond This Point! No
Exceptions!
The hasp was secured by a thick padlock, almost the size of her fist. Wiping
at the sweat filming her face, she yelled in his ear, "Do you have a key?"
Kane nodded, lifting his right hand. The Sin Eater sprang into it, flame
blooming from the barrel. Because of the background roar, the shot sounded no
louder than a hand clap. The padlock jumped and broke apart. Kane ripped the
shattered mass from the hasp and pushed open the door. It appeared to require
quite a bit of effort He stepped through, looked around and indicated with a
gesture that the way was clear.
After Brigid stepped through, he pulled the door closed, and the volume of the
racket was reduced by half.
The air was much cooler, and she couldn't help but sigh in relief.
They stood in almost complete darkness, at the bottom of a high shaft. She
could barely make out the contours of a corkscrew staircase, twisting up into
the dimness.
"I can barely see," she said, unconsciously lowering her voice to a whisper.
Kane tapped his visor. "I'll see for both of us."
"Where to now?"
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"Like I said. Tartarus."
"Feels like we've already been there," she murmured.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When the ground collapsed beneath their feet, they tumbled down together. Kane
did his best to cushion
Brigid's fall. It seemed only polite since he was in the lead and holding her
hand. The fall was completely unexpected, and he had to give the archivist
credit she didn't cry out or curse the way he did.
They landed in a pile of soft dirt and half slid, half rolled to its base.
Brigid ended up lying atop him.
Pushing her hair out of her face, she said, "I thought you'd come this way
before."
"Years ago. There's been some changes. Besides, we ended up where we wanted to
end up."
By the light enhancer on his helmet, he saw her blink around and wrinkle her
nose. "Smells like gasoline or something."
As he looked up at her bright emerald eyes, the thought came to him unbidden
that they were on the run, but it was her wild, disheveled hair that looked
like a fugitive sunset. He scoffed at himself as something stirred in him, but
he found himself reluctant to push her away. "Old storage tanks for a fuel
repository. A
long, long time ago."
Brigid climbed to her feet, standing ankle deep in dirt, brushing grit from
her hair and clothes. Kane stood, scanning the area. He saw places where the
soil had been disturbed and he silently heaved a sigh of relief. These were
signs that Grant had come this way, and not too long before. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]