“Then let’s go,” Aten Randt said. He hoisted his rather impressive weapon, opened the door, and strode out into the hall. As Aten Randt began moving, Cainen saw the Eneshan’s lower appendages extend as an additional leg articulation emerged from inside his carapace. It was a sprinting mechanism that gave Eneshans terrifying speed and agility in battle situations and reminded Cainen of any number of creepy-crawlies from his childhood. He repressed a shiver of revulsion and raced to keep up, stumbling more than once in the debris-strewn hallway, heading all too slowly for the small rail station on the other side of the level.
Cainen panted up as Aten Randt was examining the controls of the small rail engine, whose passenger compartment was open to the air. He had already disconnected the engine from the railcars behind it. “I told you to keep up,” Aten Randt said.
“Some of us are old, and can’t double the length of our legs,” Cainen said, and pointed to the rail engine. “Do I get on that?”
“We should walk,” Aten Randt said, and Cainen’s legs began to cramp preemptively. “But I don’t think you’ll be able to keep pace the entire distance, and we’re running out of time. We’ll have to risk using this. Get on.” Cainen gratefully climbed into the passenger area, which was roomy, built as it was for two Enesha. Aten Randt eased the little engine to its full speed—about twice an Eneshan’s sprinting pace, which seemed uncomfortably fast in the cramped tunnel—and then turned around and raised his weapon again, scanning the tunnel behind them for targets.
“What happens to me if the base is overrun?” Cainen asked.
“You’ll be safe in the living module,” Aten Randt said.
“Yes, but if the base is overrun, who will come to get me?” Cainen asked. “I can’t stay in that module forever, and I won’t know how to get back out. No matter how well-prepared this module of yours is, it will eventually run out of supplies. Not to mention air.”
“The module has the ability to extract dissolved oxygen from the water,” Aten Randt said. “You won’t suffocate.”
“Wonderful. But that still leaves starvation,” said Cainen.
“The lake has an outlet—” Aten Randt began, and that was as far as he got before the engine derailed with a sudden jerk. The roar of the collapsing tunnel drowned out all other noise; Cainen and Aten Randt found themselves briefly airborne as they were hurled from the passenger area of the rail engine into the sudden, dusty darkness.
Cainen found himself being prodded awake an indeterminate time later by Aten Randt. “Wake up, Administrator,” Aten Randt said.
“I can’t see anything,” Cainen said. Aten Randt responded by shining a beam from the lamp attached to his weapon. “Thanks,” Cainen said.
“Are you all right?” Aten Randt asked.
“I’m fine,” Cainen said. “If at all possible I’d like to get through the rest of the day without hitting the ground again.” Aten Randt clicked in assent and swept his beam away, to look at the rock falls that had them closed in. Cainen started to get up, slipping a bit on the rubble.
Aten Randt swung the light beam back to Cainen. “Stay there, Administrator,” Aten Randt said. “You’ll be safer.” The light beam dipped to the rails. “Those may still have current in them.” The light beam trailed off again, back to the caved-in walls of their new holding pen. Whether by accident or design, the bombardment that struck the rail line had securely closed in Cainen and Aten Randt; there were no openings in the wall of rubble. Cainen noted to himself that suffocation had once again become a real consideration. Aten Randt continued his examination of their new perimeter and occasionally tried his communicator, which seemed not to be working. Cainen settled in and tried not to breathe too deeply.
Some time later Aten Randt, who had given up his examination and cast them both into darkness while he rested, flicked his light back on, toward the wall of rubble closest to the base.
“What is it?” Cainen asked.
“Be quiet,” Aten Randt said, and moved closer to the wall of rubble, as if trying to hear something. A few moments later, Cainen heard it too: noise that could have been voices, but not of anyone local, or friendly. Shortly thereafter came the blasting noises. Whoever was on the other side of the wall of rubble had decided they were coming in.
Aten Randt moved back from the wall of rubble at speed and came up on Cainen, weapon raised, blinding him with the light beam. “I’m sorry, Administrator,” Aten Randt said, and that was when it dawned on Cainen that Aten Randt’s orders to get him to safety probably only went so far. On instinct more than thought Cainen twisted away from the light beam; the bullet intended for his center mass instead went into his arm, spinning him around and slamming him into the ground. Cainen struggled to his knees and caught his shadow splayed before him as Aten Randt’s light beam fell on his back.
“Wait,” Cainen said, to his shadow. “Not in the back. I know what you have to do. Just not in the back. Please.”
There was a moment, punctuated by the sounds of rubble blasting. “Turn around, Administrator,” Aten Randt said.
Cainen turned, slowly, scraping his knees on the rubble and putting his hands in his coat pockets, as if they were manacles. Aten Randt sighted in; given the luxury of picking his shot he leveled his weapon at Cainen’s brain.
“Are you ready, Administrator?” Aten Randt said.