Once we’re all zipped up, Remi weaves four more tiny spells that snap the suits back into shape, molded to our bodies in a way that’s surprisingly attractive on some and utterly, miserably uncomfortable on me. It’s like the suit is trying to give me chest compressions and an all-sides wedgie. Not great.
Masks come next, which are horrifically claustrophobic, then the press of a button to activate the nullaz field. Down the hall, a door slams, and the sound of running boots follows.
“Take the other suits,” Ania says. “It’ll slow them down. We can destroy them on the other side.”
Ooh, smart. We all snag an extra suit and, with no ceremony whatsoever, pull the big dramatic lever and hit the ominous red button. The lights on either side of the door begin to blink, and a countdown appears above the door. Jaesin bounces on the balls of his feet, looking back over his shoulder.
“I swear these seconds feel eight times longer than normal seconds,” he murmurs, waggling his gun at me as a reminder to have mine ready.
He’s not wrong. Remi and Ania glance at each other, then take up stations on either side of the hallway and draw maz to hand. We’re about to travel down to the source of all maz, after all, so the need to conserve our short supply isn’t quite so dire. Remi preps a projectile of some kind, holding it at the ready for the first guard to round the corner, while Ania crouches low and threads a slippery weave over the hallway floor. After a moment, an MMC minion rounds the corner at a run and is immediately downed by a golden-red blast to the chest. The man right behind her approaches more slowly, sticking close to the wall with his gun drawn. The second his feet hit Ania’s spelled area, though, his legs go right out from under him in ass-over-head fashion. Beautiful. Wish I’d thought to have my lenses record it for the internet to enjoy.
Just as a third guard appears, the airlock behind us hisses and cracks open to admit us into the most secret and most deadly area in all of Kyrkarta. Jaesin and I step in, holding the door open with our guns pointed out into the hallway, while Ania and Remi back toward us, the spare suits held in the crook of their elbows to leave their hands free for maz. Once we’re all inside, the airlock chimes cheerfully and slides closed, trapping us in the transfer room.
My breathing picks up as I have a horrible realization: this spot, this airlock, is where we’re most vulnerable. There could be anything, anyone on the other side. Hell, maybe there’s a security station somewhere where they could simply cut power to the airlock and let us suffocate in here, or lock us in until more guards arrive. The airlock suddenly seems incredibly small. Another ten-second countdown appears as the door behind us hisses, forming the seal that protects the rest of the station. After a literal eternity, the door in front of us finally slides open, revealing an empty catwalk overlooking a small, dry ravine.
We cross the catwalk with careful steps, wary of the edges. We’re on our way toward a drop so long you could call every one of your acquaintances for a tearful goodbye on the way down. Too dramatic. I’d just embrace my fate and spend the time watching funny vids on my lenses or calling up my favorite music on my deck. Because I don’t know when I’ll die, but whenever I do, it’ll be with a deck in my pocket, guaranteed.
I pat my back pocket through the protective suit. Hopefully today won’t be that day.
We proceed with caution, Jaesin and me in the lead with the guns at the ready, looking in every direction for movement. It’s still only eleven thirty at night, despite all that’s happened since we entered the complex, and the entire area seems deserted. Death drilling is a day-shift-only kind of job, I guess. The catwalk deposits us onto a platform with a large control rig attached to an intricate system of piping, similar to the arrangement we always saw in the sewers. A long line drawn in reflective paint bisects the platform. On our half, machinery and consoles line every wall. The other side is dominated by signage.
WARNING: SHEER DROP AHEAD
HEAT PROTECTION REQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT
ONLY LICENSED TECHNICIANS MAY OPERATE DESCENT VEHICLES
CHECK IT TWICE, SAVE A LIFE:
1. IS YOUR SUIT’S INSPECTION DATE CURRENT?
2. IS YOUR O2 FLOW IN THE GREEN?
3. IS YOUR NULLIFIER ACTIVE?
4. IS YOUR COMM UNIT RECEIVING?
PROTECT YOURSELF AND YOUR COLLEAGUES
AND REPORT ALL ACCIDENTS PROMPTLY
“Better do as the sign commands,” Jaesin says. “Final checks? Everyone good?”
One by one we sound off, all clear. “Though,” I add, “maybe we should take those extra suits with us instead of throwing them into the hell pit, just in case something happens to ours.”
“It looks like there’s extra O2 tanks here too,” Ania says, peeking inside a series of storage cabinets. “Might not hurt, just in case this takes longer than we hope it will. And, worse comes to worst, they’re heavy enough to hit someone with.”
She tosses one to Jaesin, who catches it in one hand and hefts it, testing its weight. “Yep, that’ll hurt. Good idea.”
Once the canisters are distributed, we can’t avoid it any longer. We have to approach the edge of the drilling tunnel. Jaesin and I take the lead again, shuffling carefully over to the line of maintenance capsules—descent vehicles, they call them—lined up at the edge of the platform. They’re silver with loud yellow warning stripes, like some kind of bee, and just as round. A peek through the open doorway of one shows they’re clearly intended for only two people at a time, but splitting up into separate pods seems both terrifying and like a terrible idea. We’ll make it work.
The yawning edge of the chasm before me makes my head swim, but I force my eyes to the solid floor under my feet and take a deep breath. The contamination suit is hot and sticky, like a second skin that’s glued itself to me via my sweat. The heat radiating from the planet’s exposed core is suffocating, even though my suit pipes plenty of fresh oxygen into my mask. This whole thing is going to be hell.
And it doesn’t matter. It has to be done.
A few feet away, Jaesin and Ania stand close, double-checking each other’s suits with lingering hands and intense eye contact. Whoa. Looks like mom and dad are getting back together after all. Remi stands a little way off to the side, seemingly mesmerized by the edge of the cliff, the sheer drop that leads down to a giant pool of exactly what’s been trying to kill them for the past ten years. I step over to them and bump their suited shoulder with mine.
“Hey,” I say.
I’m terrified for you and wish you would stay here, I want to say, but that’s not fair. It’s not right.
“Are you okay with this?” I ask instead. “With going down to the source, being so steeped in it? It’s got to be weird for you.”
“No weirder than it is for you all, I imagine,” they say, returning the shoulder bump. “You lost everything to the plague too. You didn’t get the same consolation prize, but it doesn’t mean this won’t be hard for you.”
I shrug. The time for getting philosophical and emotional about the spellplague is long over. Something broke in me, back at the professor’s house. But something started to heal a little too, I think. Today is a day for fixing things. That’s what we’re here to do. No point in dwelling on the rest.
“Everything will be just shiny once we get down there and give the planet a nice Band-Aid. Worth it, right?” I ask, turning to look them in the eye.