Madlands

24. The Cry of Cereda

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She should have shot him.

She'd had no hope of losing him with only a corridor-length's head start. When she'd tried to slam the heavy exit-hatch door shut behind her, a hand had been there to stop the seal.

There had been a wail and a crunch, the sound of the delicate bones of his hand shattering under the swinging weight of the durasteel. It hadn't been enough to stop him. She'd thrown herself against the door, pushing with all her weight, but he was half again her size, furious, and unstoppable.

The injury and the effort had only allowed Grey to rebuild the small gap between them.

She must have crushed his dominant hand, as the blaster bolts that rang out around her had so far failed to find their target—some only near misses, but misses all the same. The ones that hit the passageway above her were sending small chunks of rock and stone dust tumbling down, creating hazards, getting in her eyes, and slowing her escape.

She'd made a second mistake, running right past the alcove where she and Kayliff had done their comms check before entering the base. It might have given her the chance to step out of range and return fire. Trying to think back to other, upcoming landmarks from her first journey along this route, she remembered an opening along the path—a spot where it connected to a cavern the size of a large room with a stream trailing through one side—and it shouldn't be too far away. She just had to keep going.

The passageway veered to the left and pitched downwards, and she heard her pursuer slam into the rock-face as he barrelled into the turn too quickly. That might be it, ahead, the opening to the cavern, or at least something that she could side-step into and use as an opportunity to fire back. Fixating on the entrance, Grey missed the angular rock jutting up into the path. It clipped her shin and she spilled onto the ground, a metre from her goal. Her blaster, slippery with blood from her shredded palms, flew forward, well past the entrance.

He was coming up behind her. She drew her knife as she scrambled upwards, forwards, and into the cavern, turning to face him as she backed towards the small stream. Pulsating with pain and anger, his frame filled the crooked entry-way. One hand was oddly shaped and purple.

Lost your weapon.

Grey readied herself as best she could.

Backed yourself into a corner. I could just shoot you. I should. But they'd probably like to ask you some questions, and I wager I get more if you're able to answer 'em.

He drew his own knife—a vibroknife with a blade far larger than hers—as he stepped towards her in a barely contained fury. The man and the cavern lunged at the same time, knocking both him and Grey off balance. His firmly-gripped blade still found her as they flailed, slicing into her side. She cried out and fell backwards into the small stream as the ground, the walls, seemed to slam sideways once again. An earthquake. No, the wipe-mining. The terrible reality sank in. They hadn't stopped it.

Grey's attacker knew nothing of it, still fixated on the wounded prey that had shot his partner and ruined his hand. He rose above her, steadying himself and heaving.

A strange, lean shape, pitch black but contoured with a cool white light and emitting a charged hum, emerged from the man's gut. She watched him look down at it, confused for just a moment, before the shape slammed upwards into his chest and then retreated back into his body. He sank, limp and lifeless, off to the side.

Mando stood in his place, holding what she could now see was a long, ghostly sabre, unlike anything she'd ever seen.

The glowing blade retracted, and Mando crouched down before her. She was half soaking wet, and the water in the slow-moving stream ran red all around her.

Grey.

Mando. Cereda.

Where are you hurt?

I'm not. It's just my hands. Mando, we have to stop it.

Even with the fabric of her sweater dark and wet, he could see the blood gathering at one side of her ribs.

It's not just your hands.

He reached for her, but the cavern shook again, differently than before. This was more of a rattling, a side-to-side vibration. It was wholly unnatural and it wasn't stopping.

What's happening?

Mando...

Grey was straining to lean forward, to crawl out of the stream.

... we have to get back to the base, maybe we can shut it off.

We have to get out of here.

NO. Don't. We can't leave. We can warn everyone.

The rattle grew more violent, the rock all around them groaning. Grey was wild-eyed, frantic, as she pulled herself forward with an anguished cry at the fresh wound on her side and grabbed onto his upper arms.

Mando, help me. We have to go back.

The ground beneath them began to crumble away, the walls plunging outwards as the cavern let out a cry of its own. A beam of light cast down beside them, the rock above splintering into a shaft that stretched to the surface.

Mando wrapped his arms around Grey, tried to lean himself over her, and blasted off towards the light.

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While the world below ground fell apart, the wind continued its assault on the surface. The crumbling rocks in the uneven shaft were replaced by gales that tried to sweep them off-course as Mando fought their way through the air and back to the Razor Crest.

Just hang on.

They hadn't emerged very far from the base and he found the rock fissure. It was already partially collapsed and new sections of its walls continued to shatter, but he could see the ship. It was resting at a different angle than he'd left it but still intact. Landing, hard, he only half released Grey as he brought down the rear gate.

Immediately, she was fighting her way out of his hold.

Grey. GREY. Stop, we have to go.

But she wouldn't stop, only growing more desperate, pushing away from every part of him that she could get hold of, and trying to dig into the uneven ground.

No. No. No.

The sheet of rock below the ship tipped further. He wrangled his hold to get her back turned towards him, and pulled her up the ramp into the ship. She wasn't going to give up. As he dragged her twisting body past the hydraulic system, he pulled out his binders and got one side around her wrist, the other around a sturdy pipe.

No. NO.

He let her go, brought up the rear gate, and clamoured his way towards the ladder, over the crates that had slid around in the slanted hold.

Don't do this. Don't you dare take me from me here.

Mando could still hear her screaming his name as he reached the helm and started the launch sequence. He was easing into the thruster when the ship was slammed down on one side. He heard the crates in the hold crash together, and hoped Grey wasn't pulled too hard against the binders. He couldn't see what had hit them, but it was safe to assume it was a large rock, and that it had crashed into one of the engines, as alarms showing an engine failure screeched to life. He didn't let up; the ground below them was now fully falling away. The ship canted sharply to one side under the uneven thrust, but rose out of the failing fissure as rocks rained down around them.

Out of the collapse, above the wind, and entering the upper atmosphere, Mando looked down at Cereda. What he could see, the wide stretch of the Irisar Plateau, had gone from a smooth and solid expanse to a swirling pool of rubble.

The Razor Crest limped towards the fallen moon's sister.

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