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CHAPTER XIII

The Last Voice



Bhaaj had known too many battlefields scarred by war, those haunted places where combat had ended and left in its wake only the injured—and those who’d passed beyond the violence. It wrenched her soul more than she could ever process. Her memories had become tangled in the hell of post-traumatic stress that started in the aqueducts before she’d enlisted and inflicted new layers of pain on her psyche throughout her combat service. Yet none had struck with the heartbreaking sense of futility that ground her down now, as she moved among the patients in the cavern.

These fragile Deepers weren’t combatants, just people struggling to survive in a world most of humanity couldn’t imagine existing. They lay in makeshift beds they’d cobbled together before they became too sick to move or that someone else had set up for them. Most were still, either asleep or in a coma from the virus raging through their bodies. A few coughed convulsively, a wracking protest that sounded as if it was tearing apart their throat.

With great care, Bhaaj stopped at each person, speaking words of comfort if they were conscious and offering them water. Saints, they needed to drink. Dehydration could kill them as fast as illness. Food had become a hopeless goal; no one could keep down more than watery soup. Using medical equipment from the clinic, she scanned each patient and administered whatever treatment she could give. For those with a cough, she injected nanomeds to relieve that hacking misery. Nothing she offered could cure the disease, but she desperately hoped she could ease their suffering.

As Bhaaj stood up after treating a patient, she saw a flash of color behind a pillar. Red. She peered in the direction where she’d glimpsed the swirl of cloth.

Max, are you there? Bhaaj asked.

No answer.

“Max?” she asked. “Can you talk?” Even though she spoke in a low voice, the sound seemed to echo in the cavern. Until the moment, she didn’t realize how quiet it had become. No one spoke. No one even snored. If not for the rare coughing, silence would have hung like a pall over the entire place.

“Yes, I’m here,” Max said. He’d turned the volume on her comm way down, but he still sounded too loud.

“Can you access my optical systems? I’m looking at a pillar with some red cloth.”

“Yes, I see it. And yes, I’m getting healthy life signs for someone behind that column.”

“Good.” Bhaaj headed toward the pillar. As she came closer, she saw a woman standing there, leaning against the column of rock, the only other person on her feet anywhere in view. She wore a filmy red tunic with many layers of cloth and loose pants of the same color gathered at her ankles. As Bhaaj came up to her, the woman turned with a jerk.

“Eh.” She relaxed when she saw Bhaaj. A man lay on a blanket at her feet, staring at the distant ceiling with a blank gaze. He gave no sign he saw or heard either of them.

Bhaaj tilted her head at the man. “Your circle?”

“New handfast,” the woman said, her face anguished. “Need help.”

Handfast. If she and this man had just become handfasted, they were married, aqueducts style. What malicious demons controlled their fate, that they found it fitting to give this young couple such a gruesome wedding gift.

“I treat.” Bhaaj knelt at the man’s side, and the woman knelt with her. The plea in her gaze—or her thoughts—felt so strong, it pulled at Bhaaj like an invisible rope. When Bhaaj laid her hand on the man’s forehead, he seemed like a furnace, burning with the disease.

“He gets worse.” The woman twisted her fingers in the loose cloth of her tunic.

I’m sorry, Bhaaj thought, wishing she could do more. She injected him with meds that could have cured known variants of carnelian rash. It wouldn’t stop this ruthless version, but it might give him more time.

The woman nodded as if Bhaaj had spoken aloud. She offered her husband water, and he took a sip, but then his head rolled away, and he didn’t respond again. The rash showed everywhere on his exposed skin, yet his wife seemed perfectly healthy, with no trace of the illness.

“Not sick?” Bhaaj asked her.

“Nahya.” Her voice cracked. “Rest of circle—all sick. Or dead.”

“Ah, goddess.” Bhaaj felt so damn useless. She had only one pebble of hope to offer. Showing her med-disk to the woman, she said, “I scan you?”

The woman frowned at the disk, then at Bhaaj. “What?”

“Scan. Find why you not sick.” She shook the scanner. “Maybe help with sick.”

“Ah.” The stiff set of the woman’s shoulders eased. “What I do?”

Bhaaj rose to her feet. “Just stand.”

As the woman stood up, Bhaaj scanned her body. When she finished, she nodded and the woman nodded back, a flicker of hope in her gaze. Or in her mind. The longer Bhaaj spent here, the more sensitized her mind became to the Deepers. If she tried to block them out, her head ached. The pain only went away when she relaxed her mental barriers.

She moved on, searching for sparks of hope among the dying.


“I’m sending you the scans for one woman and two men who aren’t sick.” Bhaaj spoke into the comm she’d repaired in the mini-clinic. She’d gotten the holobooths working again, sort of, and all three doctors had come to consult with her.

“A third man had four children with him,” Bhaaj continued. “One was so sick, she couldn’t move. The man and two of the other children were also sick, but it didn’t seem as severe for them. The fourth child showed no symptoms at all. I’m sending data for them all. I’ve also included a scan for the man who guided us here. He was exposed well before the rest of us, but he still shows no sign of the disease. And I’ve included my own data, as well as that for one of our runners, a woman who seems immune to prior variants of carnelian rash.”

“Your files are coming through.” That came from the woman with gray hair and a lined face. Bhaaj thought of her as Doctor Gray. “The data looks good, not corrupted or fragmented.”

“I’m getting it, too,” the male doctor said. He was sitting at a desk in front of a holoscreen. The last time Bhaaj had seen him, the symbols that covered his screen had shown a chemical synthesis. This time, they displayed DNA helixes, not just floating in front of the screen but above his desk and all around him. They looked like ladders twisted into spirals, with different-colored balls for different atoms. Bhaaj thought of him as Doctor Helix.

Bhaaj’s last talk with Angel remained vivid in her mind. “My contact at the Kyle Corps says you think our immunity might link to our Kyle DNA.”

“It’s a possibility we’re looking at,” the third doctor said, seated at her gleaming console. Doctor Tech. “It’s resistance rather than immunity. Now that we have these new DNA samples, we can compare them with the full complement of Kyle genes to see if any mutation shows up in all of you with resistance.”

Bhaaj’s hope surged. “The full Kyle complement?”

“Actually, yes.” Doctor Gray spoke carefully. “Pharaoh Dyhianna granted us access to her DNA records.”

Doctor Helix snorted. “After the army had us sign top secret clearances, nondisclosure agreements, and any other damn contract they could come up with.”

It didn’t surprise Bhaaj that the pharaoh had come through for them—and that Vaj made doubly, triply, quadruply sure they’d never breathe a hint of any similarities with the Deepers they found in the pharaoh’s DNA.

“If you do find a mutation that’s the same for everyone with the full resistance,” Bhaaj asked, “then what happens?”

“We figure out what it does,” Doctor Tech said. “Then we figure out how to replicate that effect in everyone else who is sick.”

Bhaaj suspected that was a lot easier to say than do. She shifted her weight in her chair. “I don’t know how much longer we’ll have functional comms or holobooths. I’m trying to get more repair materials, but it takes time for our people in the Undercity to gather the supplies and get them here. The more you update us with your results, the better off we’ll be when we lose contact again.”

“Understood,” Doctor Helix said, echoed by the others.

After they signed out, Bhaaj sat with her head hanging down.

“Bhaaj?” Max asked.

She raised her head. “Your voice sounds scratchy.”

“A little,” he said. “I’ve lost contact with Cries, but my immediate systems are functional.”

“Good . . .” After a moment, she said, “How much have I slept in the past few days?”

“About five hours.” He spoke firmly. “You need sleep. You’ll kill yourself from exhaustion just as surely as if the carnelian rash finished you.”

“And when I wake up?” She felt so heavy. “How many people will die while I sleep?”

“Bhaaj—” For the first time in all the years she’d evolved with Max, he seemed at a loss for a response. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Help me.” She stood up slowly, rolling her shoulders to work out the stiffness in her muscles. “Have my nanomeds release more stimulants into my body.”

“Done.” He didn’t even castigate her for overusing the meds.

She turned to where Lavinda still sat in the chair she’d sunk into. When Bhaaj shook her, Lavinda stirred and sighed, then slumped forward. Bhaaj barely managed to catch her before she fell off the chair. Pulling her upright, Bhaaj put an arm around her shoulders, keeping her from collapsing. “Raja? Are you still here?”

“Yes,” Lavinda’s EI said. “Colonel Majda’s nanomeds are working to keep her alive, if that is what you were going to ask.”

“How is she doing?”

“Not well,” Raja said. “She would be better off lying in a bed.”

Bhaaj looked around the infirmary. Far on the other side, Callin and a woman with wispy gray hair were tending to patients.

“Eh!” Bhaaj called, waving her hand.

No response. They continued to treat people.

Hear me, Bhaaj thought.

Callin lifted his head, then waved at her. Both he and the woman headed toward the clinic.

Lavinda stirred in her chair. “Where . . . ?”

“You’re still in Karal’s mini-clinic.” Bhaaj strained to keep the colonel from toppling onto the floor. “How are you doing?”

“Not great,” Lavinda mumbled.

“We’re getting you a place to lie down.”

“That’d be . . . good.” Lavinda fumbled with the snap bottle hanging from her belt. After Bhaaj helped her drink, she murmured, “The singing . . . it soothes.”

It took a moment for Bhaaj to realize she meant the distant chorus. Concentrating, she listened. Yah, they still sang, fewer people now, a ghostly sound. “It’s beautiful.” With difficulty, she added, “Like when you sang it for Healer Sarzana’s passing. Your voice is incredible.”

Lavinda sighed, opening her eyes. “I wanted to be a singer. Not a colonel.” She spoke slowly. “In a universe where I had choices, I’d have become a vocalist and married my artist lover who painted such beautiful pictures.”

Bhaaj wondered if Lavinda had ever admitted that painful truth to her family. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah, well.” Her eyes dropped closed again. “I’ve had a privileged life . . . can’t complain . . .”

Why the hell not? Bhaaj thought. Lavinda had given her life to the family “business” and accepted an arranged marriage with a man she didn’t love. Yes, she made an excellent colonel, with intelligence, political savvy, and an ability to lead. But she also had an exquisite voice, a gift she’d never used, at least not in any public way. What did the military fight to protect, if it didn’t include those pursuits that elevated human existence to more than just survival? Bhaaj couldn’t help but wonder which they needed more, another cog in their military machine or a singer with the voice of an angel. She had no answer.

“We help?” a woman asked.

It took a moment for the words to sink into Bhaaj’s deadened brain. Turning toward the speaker, she felt as if she moved in a fog. Callin and the gray-haired woman had come to the other side of the consoles. They stood watching her, two people worn and wrinkled by their years in the Deep, their hair gray, their bodies weathered with age—and both healthy. They’d outlived almost everyone else born here in the last few generations.

Bhaaj stood up, keeping her hand on Lavinda’s shoulder to steady the colonel, and also herself. “Find Majda queen a bed, yah?”

“We do,” Callin said.

He and the woman came around the consoles, taking care as they joined Bhaaj. With an exhale of relief, she gave Lavinda into their care. As they helped her stand, the colonel mumbled, “My thanks.” They nodded to her with a respect that Bhaaj had never dreamed she’d see the Deepers show anyone from the above-city. They took Lavinda to one of the few open beds in the infirmary, a ledge softened with rugs they’d just changed. If it bothered Lavinda to lie down where someone had died only moments before, she gave no sign. She seemed past caring.

Watching them, Bhaaj felt as if she’d sunk into a pit of molasses. Cut it out, she told herself. Get your act together. In silence, she left the mini-clinic and squeezed between the beds of sleeping or comatose patients, pausing to treat anyone who needed a booster or water. It felt like it took ages, but she finally reached the platforms where the Majda guards lay. Although she gave them both medicine from her new supplies, neither responded nor opened their eyes.

Tower slept on a bed beyond the Majda officers, stretched out on her side, turned away from Bhaaj. So still. No sign even showed that she continued to breathe. A chill went through Bhaaj as she leaned over the Dust Knight.

“Tower?” she asked. “You hear?”

No response.

“Tower!” Bhaaj grasped her shoulder and rolled the ganger onto her back—

“Go away,” Tower grumbled. She opened her eyes. “Am tired. Need sleep.”

Bhaaj gulped in a breath, hit with a relief so intense it hurt. That sounded like Tower. She took the nanomed syringe from her belt and gave her another injection. “Thirsty? Hungry?”

“Yah, water,” Tower admitted.

Bhaaj unhooked a snap bottle from her belt, sterilized it, and gave Tower as much water as the fighter could swallow. She drank a lot, more than the other patients Bhaaj had treated.

“It’s good she’s getting fluids,” Max said. “But all these people need that much water. No way do you have enough supplies for everyone.”

“Aren’t the Deepers still filtering it?” Bhaaj said. “They have the new equipment Paul sent.”

Max paused. “I don’t think anyone has brought more in the past few hours.”

Bhaaj couldn’t recall any recent deliveries, either. If the equipment had broken down, taxed beyond its ability to meet the demand, they were in trouble. Or the supply might have dwindled for a different reason. “Maybe no one is left who’s healthy enough to keep doing the work.”

“I hope it hasn’t gotten that bad.”

“Paul will get us new supplies,” Bhaaj said. “He will.” She didn’t know who she meant to convince, Max or herself.

“Yes.” Max sounded neutral. Somehow that worked better than if he’d given her platitudes about how everything would be all right. The longer this went on, the less all right anything seemed.

Ruzik and Byte-2 slept on beds beyond where Tower dozed. Bhaaj made her way to them and checked their breathing. Yes! Both exhaled against the skin of her hand. Neither opened their eyes, though, nor showed any other sign that they noticed when she gave them another dose of nanomeds.

“Live,” Bhaaj spoke in a low voice. “Live.” It felt as if someone had reached inside her and gripped whatever vessel held the love she gave her circle, slowly crushing it until her heart ached.

Neither Ruzik nor Byte-2 responded to her voice, but their chests continued to move, in and out, their breaths shallow but steady.

They still survived.

For now.


Again.

Kneel. Inject. Water.

Kneel. Inject. Water.

Bhaaj plodded through the cavern, trailed by the dutiful tray-bot, which she’d reloaded with medical supplies and the last of the filtered water. Sunk into a trance, she moved without thinking, following the same procedure again and again and again. Kneel next to the patient. Give water. Inject them with meds. She kept draining the syringes. She didn’t know how to reload this new type Paul had sent, or if it was even possible, so she placed each empty syringe on the cart and took a full one.

She’d expected to run out of water, but Callin showed up several times to replenish her supply. With snap bottles. Where did he get them? As far as she knew, no one in the Deep had bottles like those from Cries. The cyber-riders from the Undercity must have helped Paul Franco build more robots to ferry in supplies. That only raised another fear, however. Where did they get these life-saving bottles? She feared they were raiding what remained of the stores Weaver had traded to the medical clinic. She didn’t have time to ask; she had to treat all these patients who’d managed to get as far as the cavern before they collapsed . . . so many . . . more than a hundred . . . 

Kneel. Inject. Water.

Kneel. Inject. Water . . . 

The ground slammed into Bhaaj. With a groan, she tried to lift her head.

“Bhaaj?” Max sounded upset. “Are you all right?”

“What happened?” She sat up, rubbing her forehead where she’d hit a nearby pillar. At least she’d missed the young girl she’d been giving a drink. If the child realized what had happened, she gave no sign. She just slept. Or more likely, she’d slipped into the coma that sometimes marked the last stage of the disease before death exacted its unforgiving toll.

“You passed out while you were helping the patient,” Max said.

“Need to rest . . .” She took a breath. “I need more stimulant.”

“Sorry. But you’re already topped out on what your internal health meds can provide.”

“Oh.” Bhaaj rubbed her eyes. In the distance, she could see Callin and the gray-haired woman carrying a body out of the infirmary. “Max—how many people have we lost?”

“I don’t have anything close to accurate data.” After a moment, he said, “If it helps to know, I’m sure you’ve slowed the fatality rate with the medicine you’re giving patients.”

“I hope so.” Bhaaj climbed to her feet, hanging on to the pillar for support.

“Eh,” someone said behind her.

Turning with a start, she saw the young woman in the red tunic. After Bhaaj had treated her husband, the woman had alternated between looking after him and helping however she could manage.

“Eh,” Bhaaj said.

“Ghosts need talky with you,” the woman said. “Have to do it now. They not stay long.”

“Ghosts?” She must mean the doctors in the holobooths. “They flick off-on?”

“Yah.” The woman grimaced. “A lot.”

Damn. Despite her repair attempts, Bhaaj couldn’t outrun the spread of the algae. It saturated the air, the caverns, everything. As perilous as it was beautiful, it had already mucked up both batches of new supplies Paul had sent them.

“Here.” Bhaaj nudged the tray-bot toward her and motioned to the patients. “You do, yah?” She’d already shown the woman how to use the syringes, both the meds that slowed the disease and those that soothed the hoarse cough.

“I help.” The woman motioned toward the infirmary. “You go. Do talky.”

Bhaaj headed to the infirmary.


“It’s one of the Kyle genes!” Doctor Tech’s voice boomed with excitement. “A rare one. Besides coding for a few minor Kyle traits, it also causes the production of a protein that doesn’t do much of anything. But it does affect viral replication. The lymphocytes and monocy—”

“Doctor, slow down!” Bhaaj struggled to focus. “I’ve hardly slept since this all started. My brain is on autopilot. Simplify it as much as you can. Please.”

“Sorry,” Tech said. “You know how a virus works?”

“Sort of,” Bhaaj said. “It makes more of itself in your body. To do that, it needs your cells.”

“Essentially.” That came from Doctor Helix. “Cells in the human body are like tiny factories that can copy molecules. The virus has none of that factory equipment, so it sneaks into the cells and hijacks what it needs to make more of itself.”

“Your body produces a protein that stops the virus from entering the cell,” Tech said. “It’s like a key that locks the door into the cell.”

“If the virus can’t invade your cells, it can’t multiply in your body,” Doctor Gray added. “In most people, the virus reproduces faster than I’ve ever seen with carnelian rash. It’s outstripping the ability of the body’s immune system to deal with it.”

“But it doesn’t in your body,” Helix said, “so the virus doesn’t overwhelm your immune system. That’s why you don’t get sick.”

“Can we give the protein to everyone?” Bhaaj asked. “Why do so few of us have it? And why do some get a much less deadly version of the disease?”

“The Kyle allele that codes for the protein is recessive,” Helix said.

“Allele?” Bhaaj knew the word. Maybe in some previous life she’d understood it. Right now, her worn-out brain refused to think. “What?”

“Genes come in pairs,” Gray said. “You get one from each parent. Alleles are different forms of a particular gene. If an allele is recessive, that means you need it from both parents for you to show the trait.”

Bhaaj struggled to focus. “I thought most Kyle genes were recessive.”

“All of them,” Helix said. “Kyle traits don’t manifest unless you inherit the alleles from both parents. A lot of Kyle genes exist, and each codes for more than one thing, not just Kyle traits. Many of the mutations they cause are negative, which is why Kyle operators are so rare.”

“But you say this protein they make in me isn’t bad?” Bhaaj asked.

“It doesn’t do much of anything, good or bad,” Tech said. “When the carnelian virus infects you, however, the protein blocks it. If someone has only one copy of the allele that produces the protein, it doesn’t work so well, but it still helps. Their body makes enough to slow the virus and give their immune system a fighting chance. That’s probably why a few people get it and then recover.”

Bhaaj’s mind was finally absorbing their words. Her unknown parents had each bequeathed her one bit of genetic wealth that she’d never noticed—until it saved her life. “How do we use this to help the people here?”

“We’re working on it,” Doctor Tech said.

Doctor Helix started to answer, but her holobooth flickered. A spark jumped from the floor to one of the screens and the booth went dark.

“What the hell?” Bhaaj asked.

“Major Bh—” Static filled Gray’s voice, growing so loud it hurt Bhaaj’s ears. Her holobooth went dead, followed a second later by Tech’s booth. Two of the clinic consoles crackled and then went dark. Lights flickered on the third. It recovered, some of its lights turning green again. That one moment of hope was short-lived, however. Its green lights blinked off one after the other, like a wave of darkness sweeping over the unit. With one last sputter, it died, leaving only one of the four consoles still working.

“No!” Bhaaj said. “Not now!” She jumped to her feet and leaned over one of the dead consoles, stabbing at its lifeless panels.

Nothing.

“What’s wrong with it?” She banged her fist on the console. “Max! Can you link to these?”

“Not anymore,” Max said. “My functions are degraded. That’s why I’m not communicating with you using our neural links. Even if I could, it might not be safe. You shouldn’t link me to anything. I might corrupt their systems.”

Bhaaj swore as she stepped over to the one working unit. “Console, can you respond? Can your EI talk?”

A woman’s voice came from the console. “Yes to both questions. I am the EI called Med Three. Consoles One, Two, and Four stopped working because the central CPU for Console Two is corrupted from the algae. The others were already damaged, and Two pulled down their systems when it failed.”

“Can you protect yourself from whatever knocked out the other three?” Bhaaj asked.

“I’ve removed myself from the link,” Three said. “However, my CPU is also corrupted. It will cease to operate soon.”

“I fixed all of you!” Bhaaj gripped the edge of the console. “I replaced your boards.”

“Yes, that helped.” A sputtering came from the console. “However, it isn’t enough—” Static blanketed whatever else it had to say, and then Console Three followed its brethren into oblivion.

“No,” Bhaaj groaned. “Max, can you fix them?”

“I’ve too much damage to my exterior elements,” Max said.

“We have to do something.” She looked around, searching for—for what? How did they treat a cavern full of dying people who had only her and two survivors to help them? It wouldn’t be long before she and the elderly Deepers ended up alone, the three of them left to mourn in a bruising silence, surrounded by more bodies than they could carry to the heartbreaking radiance of the temple.

“Bhaaj, listen.” Max spoke in a calming voice. “The university team knows now why you aren’t sick. They’ll work overtime to translate that into a treatment.”

“They still have to get it to us,” Bhaaj said. “In time.” Of which they had almost none.

“They will.” He spoke with assurance, but it sounded fake.

“Yah. Sure.” They had only two ways to get the medicine here. They could use the route Paul had taken through the Maze, or they could send people with no Kyle ability down a staircase that went more than half a kilometer deep. It would bring them out in a remote and isolated area nowhere near this place.

“They won’t reach us in time.” She felt so damn tired. “Even if they find a treatment soon enough, even if they break quarantine to bring it to us—which is a big if, Max, because anyone from Cries who comes here has to stay until this virus is no longer contagious. If they come anyway, they still have to find us.” Her voice scraped, ragged. “The Undercity will never let them in. They’ll think Lavinda betrayed her promise to bring only three guards. Even if the medics convince the Undercity to let them through, who will show them how to get here? Paul is quarantined in Karal’s lab—” She broke off as desperation rolled over her. “We’re hidden—no one can find us—”

“Bhaaj, stop,” Max said.

“I can’t stop.” Only adrenalin kept her from crumbling. “I have to act.” She wanted to rage at someone, but she had no one to curse. “I can’t rebuild the CPU for an EI mesh node. Who the blazes can? You need a fucking doctorate in computer-mesh science.”

“Bhaaj, take a deep breath,” Max said.

“Stop humoring me.”

“Breathe.”

She wanted to growl, but instead she gulped in a breath.

“Again,” Max said.

“Enough,” she muttered. She did take another deep breath, though. Her mood began to calm.

“Angel can get them into the Undercity,” Max said.

“No!” The idea of Angel coming here—no. She was the only one in Bhaaj’s innermost circle beyond the reach of this mess. Ruzik and his Dust Knights were here, dying in the Deep, and Jak was in quarantine with Paul, risking his own health and maybe his life so he could help send medical supplies. Only Angel remained safe.

“She can’t come here.” Bhaaj spoke with defeat, knowing Angel would come in an instant if she believed she could save her husband’s life.

“It will work out,” he said. “All this—”

“Max, shut up.”

The EI went silent.

“Ah, hell, I’m sorry.” Bhaaj knew he just simulated emotions, but she had long ago decided that if the sim became so convincing that even he couldn’t tell the difference with the real thing, who cared how he experienced them? “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” Max said. “It’s all right.”

She looked across the infirmary to where Ruzik lay in a bed near Byte-2. Tower slept in another to their left. Lavinda was over there, too, and her guards. Bhaaj turned her attention back to the dead consoles and glowered, as if her anger could wake them up. No such luck.

Standing up, she tried to take stock of her situation. Her mind was falling apart the way rock crumbled under the constant blows of a hammer, pulverizing her ability to think. She kept breathing as Max had recommended, even and full, until she gathered her scattered thoughts into something coherent. Then she left the mini-clinic, headed out to the dying patients. She couldn’t stop trying. If she dared sleep, even for a few moments, what would she find when she awoke? Given any chance that she could help even one person stay alive until help arrived, she had to follow through. Sleep wasn’t an option.

She reached Caranda first. The guard lay on her stomach with her head turned the other way. Bhaaj touched her shoulder. “Lieutenant?”

No response.

Bhaaj tried to run her scanner over the guard. The disk, however, had gone dark. Frustrated, she dropped it on the ground and shook the guard’s shoulder. “Caranda? Can you hear me?”

No response.

“Max, do my ear augs still work?”

“Yes. They are fully within your body.” Then he said, “Activated. I do have a warning. Even when you’re rested, you need to take care using your biomech. Right now, you’re too depleted to run on enhancements for more than a few minutes.”

“Understood.” Bhaaj realized she could hear the singing again. She’d thought it stopped, but now she realized one person still sang, a man gifted with a rich baritone. His voice seemed to ache with the haunting song. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she leaned over Caranda and listened. Yes! The guard’s faintly rattling breath came to her.

Relief flooded Bhaaj. Hard on its heels came a much less welcome thought. “Max, you said the algae hasn’t reached my ear augs. But I’m breathing in algae all the time. Isn’t it in my lungs?” She felt cold. “If it gets into my body, couldn’t it overcome even this protein that keeps me healthy?”

“Possibly. It would take longer that way, though, than when it affects exposed surfaces or gets into tech-mech.” He paused. “You need to go somewhere without algae.”

“Yah, right.”

“Maybe it can’t overcome your resistance. You’ve found survivors here from a previous outbreak. A good number of them must exist, or else all these children and young people wouldn’t be here.”

“Yah, but that was a different variant.”

“I don’t know the answer. I’m sorry.” Wisely, Max changed the subject. “Do you want me to leave your audio augmentations active?”

Bhaaj straightened up. “For now. If they start to show signs of damage, deactivate them.” Inching past Caranda’s bed, she made her way toward the place where Lavinda lay, a makeshift platform built from stone struts that someone had carried into the infirmary. A man in the bed on her right opened his eyes, but before she could ask if he needed anything, he sunk into a comatose silence. The patient in the next bed asked for water, his voice so low, she’d have missed it without her enhanced hearing. She sanitized a bottle from her belt, then offered him a drink. After a few swallows, he let his head roll to the side, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow.

Bhaaj laid her palm on his forehead. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.” She moved on then, pushing her hand through the curls that had escaped her braid. After what felt like eons, but was probably only a minute, she reached the bed where Lavinda lay on her back, her eyes closed, her body limp.

“Lavinda?” Bhaaj asked. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

Leaning closer, Bhaaj could barely hear the colonel’s strained breaths.

“Max, how long do you think she has?” Bhaaj asked.

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “An untreated patient at her stage would probably die soon. However, she has the best medical protections a person can get. If anyone can survive this, it’s Colonel Majda.”

“Yah.” That might be enough, at least for now. Lavinda had more time.

Warrick, the other Majda guard, lay in the adjacent bed. With care, Bhaaj moved to the guard, squeezing past Lavinda’s bed. The lieutenant lay on her side, facing away from Bhaaj.

“Warrick?” Bhaaj shook her shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

No response.

“Lieutenant?” Bhaaj gently rolled the guard onto her back—

The moment she saw Warrick’s face, she knew the truth. “No,” Bhaaj whispered. In a louder voice, she said, “Max—?”

He spoke gently. “I’m sorry.”

“It can’t be.” Bhaaj couldn’t believe how flat her voice sounded, because inside she wanted to scream. She laid her hand against Warrick’s cheek. Judged from the stiffness of the guard’s body and the pallor of her face, she must have passed away some time ago. Bhaaj’s mind refused to accept that truth.

Even as she tilted back the guard’s head to give her CPR, Max said, “She’s gone, Bhaaj.” His voice showed a strain no EI was supposed to feel.

“Maybe you just can’t pick up her life signs because—because—” Because he was also dying, the algae eating away at him within her gauntlets.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice.

She looked past Warrick’s body to where Ruzik lay several rows away. Watching him, she felt a great hollow spreading inside her heart, not the organ that beat in her chest, keeping her alive while everyone around her died. This cavity existed in the place where she put her joy in the treasured people who formed her circle.

“Keep going,” she muttered to herself. “Move.” She pushed on, easing between the beds that blocked her path.

“He’s strong,” Max didn’t need to ask where she was heading.

Bhaaj felt as if she were cracking. “Max, I have the answer inside of me. My blood is full of those life-saving proteins. Can’t I give them to these people?” She couldn’t donate enough blood to save everyone, but she could for Ruzik, Byte-2, and Tower. And yes, she hated knowing that about herself, that she was willing to sacrifice even Lavinda to save the people she loved, but it changed nothing.

“You don’t know if your blood type is compatible with anyone here,” Max said. “You’re A-positive. You can only donate to people with A-positive or AB-positive blood, and not even a lot of them, because your blood has other differences. It’s probably your Deeper heritage. They don’t have the same blood types as other humans. But you’re only part Deeper. Who knows what would happen if you gave a full Deeper your blood. You also don’t know if giving the protein to dying patients via a direct blood transfusion will help them or kill them. Your blood also carries other Kyle proteins, some of which can be fatal in certain conditions.” He continued, relentless. “You also don’t know how to do a blood transfusion. You don’t have anyone to tell you how, and the mini-clinic no longer operates.”

“I have to do something.” Bhaaj stopped at the next bed that blocked her progress. She felt as if she’d run into a wall. After a strained moment, she realized Tower lay there on her back, her eyes closed, no rise and fall of her chest.

“Be alive,” Bhaaj said, shaking Tower’s shoulder. “Live.

Nothing.

“No, no, no.” She leaned over Tower, straining to hear or feel anything, the faintest breath—

“Bhaaj, go way,” Tower muttered. “Let me sleep.”

Bhaaj gave a startled, raspy laugh that sounded more like tears. “Yah, fine.” She eased past Tower’s bed to where Byte-2 and Ruzik lay, the brothers side by side, just as they had stayed their entire lives, running, fighting, and existing together like two parts of a whole.

Breathe, she willed them. Keep breathing. She leaned over where Byte-2 lay—yah, his breath brushed her cheek. “Good job,” she murmured as if he had achieved a great success. Laying her palm on his chest, she felt its rise and fall. He didn’t stir under her touch.

“Breathe,” she murmured. “Don’t give up.”

Bhaaj turned to Ruzik, the closest she had to a son, maybe the only child she’d ever have—he would be breathing surely. Almost everyone else still lived, and he had better meds than Tower and Byte-2. Yah, he’d pushed himself harder than the others, always a leader, but he was young and strong, full of vibrant, vital life.

Bhaaj listened for his breathing.

Nothing.

She leaned closer.

Nothing.

She set her hand on his chest and felt—nothing. No rise and fall.

No!” Bhaaj shook Ruzik. “Breathe!”

“Bhaaj—” Max started.

“He’s still warm!” Moving fast, she gave Ruzik CPR, uncaring that it meant breathing in and out of his mouth and pushing on his chest, uncaring that even her enhanced resistance might not be enough if she inhaled the full force of the virus. None of that mattered. She kept on, kept on, kept on, thirty compressions, two breaths, thirty compressions, two breaths.

Over and over.

Over and over.

With a ragged gasp, Ruzik gulped in a breath.

“Ah, goddess.” As Bhaaj grabbed the edge of the bed, holding herself up, Ruzik took another gasping breath.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Ruzik didn’t answer. He remained in a coma. But he kept breathing. He lived.

“Max.” The roughness in her voice felt like relief, like desperation, like agony. “How long does he have?”

“I don’t know.” He sounded false somehow.

“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?”

“Bhaaj—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell me your sorry! Help me fix this.” She grabbed the syringe on her belt. “I can give him another treatment.”

“No! It’s too soon. If you give him too much, it will hurt, not help.”

“We’re so damn close to a cure.” She looked around, searching desperately for something, anything to help. Karal Rajindia—yes, there she was, across the infirmary, in a bed by the wall.

Bhaaj inched past the beds and their silent patients, bit by bit, making her way to where the doctor lay, as motionless as everyone else. On and on.

On and on.

Sometimes Bhaaj wasn’t even aware she still moved. Several times, she jolted awake when she fell against someone’s bed. She had no idea how much time passed until she reached Karal Rajindia, but finally she stood looking at the doctor. She found what she’d dreaded. The rash covered Karal’s face, shoulders, and arms, so bad that the red patches blended together. It looked horrible, worse than she’d seen on even Ruzik and Byte-2.

“Karal,” Bhaaj said. “Can you hear me?”

No answer.

“Don’t die!” She leaned over—and heard the rattle of the doctor’s breath. “Ah saints, thank you.” Bhaaj had no idea who she thanked, some long-dead saints, fate, or a pantheon of mythological deities. It didn’t matter. Karal lived. She couldn’t help anyone, but she still survived.

“Bhaaj, your vital signs show you’re in trouble,” Max told her. “You need to stop moving. Stop using your biomech. Stop being awake. You need to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep.” Tears ran down her face, those forbidden signs of pain, what you never let show, because if you let yourself cry, you’d never stop. “If I can help even one person, I have to stay awake. And if I can’t—” Her voice broke. “I need to be here when they go, Max. I need to say good-bye.”

His words came out with kindness. From an EI. “I understand. But destroying yourself won’t help anyone.”

Bhaaj headed across the infirmary again, moving on autopilot. Her mind slowly formed a thought. She had to reach Ruzik, Byte-2, Tower, and Lavinda, too. That idea kept her going, pushing her beyond the demands of her body that she stop. When she stumbled, when she fell, even when she went to sleep on her feet and lurched awake, she kept going, kept struggling because she knew no other way to live. Or to die.

Sometime during that endless trek across the infirmary, the last voice in the chorus—the last man singing the lament for his people—stopped.

Silence descended on the Deep.

Bhaaj groaned. A thought formed in her mind. “Maybe this is what I deserve.”

“What are you talking about?” Max asked.

“I’m part Deeper and even I didn’t know how many people lived here.” She stumbled and nearly fell across a patient. Grabbing their bed, she propped up her weight with her arms until she regained her balance. She stared down into the person’s face, a man, a woman, she couldn’t tell which. They looked so pale, their hair lying in damp curls around their face, their eyes closed. They hadn’t even stirred when she banged into their resting place.

“My sorry,” Bhaaj mumbled to them. She continued on, moving doggedly, her steps uneven.

The singer resumed his music, his voice drifting through the air.

“It’s my fault,” Bhaaj said to no one in particular, since not a single human remained in the infirmary to hear her words.

“Why is it your fault?” Max sounded genuinely confused. “The people of the Deep chose to remain hidden. They may even need isolation to survive.”

“They never asked for help.” Bhaaj grunted as it soaked into her brain that she’d finally reached the narrow space between Ruzik and Byte-2. She planted one palm on the edge of Byte-2’s bed and the other on Ruzik’s and let her weight sink into her arms. She barely held herself up, sagging between them.

“Their isolation is killing them,” she said. “Why do they choose to live that way even if it’s killing them?” The answer lay in the wash of moods from the empaths around her. In her fatigue, her mental barriers had crumbled. She’d become so attuned to the Deepers that even when they lay unconscious, she picked up a vague sense of their minds. It wasn’t much, but with so many of them here, it was enough.

“They stayed away to protect us,” she said. “They’ve been dying for generations, centuries, who knows how the bloody hell long, alone here, so they wouldn’t spread the disease.”

“It’s heartbreaking,” Max said, “But it isn’t your fault.”

“I repressed my identity.” Bhaaj couldn’t stop the words, those thoughts she’d pushed down until she barely knew they existed—except for now, when exhaustion and uncompromising reality forced her to look at the truth. “I denied the part of me that came from the Deep. I never tried to search for my family.” Her voice felt ragged. “If I’d come here more, if I’d understood better, I could have brought them help sooner. Before this happened.”

Max spoke firmly. “You looking for your parents wouldn’t have stopped carnelian rash from decimating these people.”

“These killing sicknesses, they’ve happened here before. Carnelian rash, other diseases.” The words wrenched out of the mental prison where she’d hidden them for so many decades. “Is that how my parents died? I’ll never know.”

“You were a newborn,” Max told her. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I’m nearly fifty, Max. I’ve had plenty of time to come here.”

“For flaming sake, you’re one person. You can’t fix everything. It’s impossible.”

“No, I can’t. But I can help.” Her voice cracked. “It’s just—I keep trying and I keep failing.” She slumped against Ruzik’s bed, listening to the rattle of his breath.

In the distance, the man singing “The Lost Sky” faltered, then picked up the music again.

“It grinds you down,” Bhaaj said. “I try to move forward, to solve problems, to make life better for my people. Just when I think we’ve made progress, it falls apart again.”

“Listen to me,” Max said. “When the Deepers realized they might have another outbreak, this time they didn’t stay isolated. They sought help because you’ve reached out to them. They knew about Karal Rajindia because of you. And why is Doctor Rajindia in the Undercity? Because of you. How can you say you’ve done nothing?”

“I know you mean well.” Her words felt like shards of glass that cut her emotions instead of her skin. “But I’m the one who brought everyone here, all of them, Karal, Lavinda and her guards, Ruzik and his Dust Knights. I invited them.” Her hand slipped off Byte-2’s bed. With a grunt, she grabbed Ruzik’s bed with both hands, barely catching herself before she fell to the floor. Somehow she held herself up, her hands braced on the stone platform under the blankets that softened its surface. Ruzik never stirred or gave any hint that he knew she stood vigil over him.

“It’s my fault they’re dying,” Bhaaj said.

“Stop being an arrogant asshole,” Max said.

“Why not?” Bhaaj muttered. Then she realized what he’d said. “What? Screw you, Max.”

“Since when did you control the decisions made by Doctor Rajindia, Ruzik and his crew, or Majda royalty? They make their own choices. Them, Bhaaj. Not you. Stop being self-indulgent.”

“I know what you’re doing. It won’t work. Insulting me won’t shake me out of a guilt I deserve.” Bhaaj straightened up. “We’re so close to a solution, so close—and it’s too late. I’m losing almost everyone I care about.” Her voice grated. “I have what will save them in my own blood, and I can’t do a damn thing.”

In the bed behind her, the rattle of Byte-2’s breath ended.

Bhaaj spun around, lost her balance, and grabbed his bed. “No, Byte, no. Breathe.” She started CPR, leaning over, starting compressions, bracing his head, breathe, compressions—

Behind her, barely audible above the noise of her efforts, the rasp of Ruzik’s breaths stopped.

NO!” Bhaaj whirled to his bed and started CPR on him. Next to her, Byte-2 still wasn’t breathing. She couldn’t choose. She couldn’t let Ruzik die, but he would never forgive her if she let his brother die.

“Max.” She stopped her compressions on Ruzik. “Turn on my full biomech. Everything.”

“Combat mode on.” That he didn’t protest, despite knowing she was too spent to use her biomech at full force, told her more than any warning he could give her. He saw no other choice.

The world jumped into sharp relief as her senses heightened. Her bio-hydraulics activated, along with her augmented skeletal and muscle systems, increasing her speed and strength. As often happened in combat, everything seemed to slow down, every second stretched into eons.

Bhaaj raced to the mini-clinic. Even with her speed pumped up, her steps felt excruciatingly slow. Her altered time sense let her to judge how to edge past other beds even at her enhanced speed without knocking over their fragile patients. When she reached the clinic, she leaned over a heap of equipment left on a chair by someone who’d become too sick to finish organizing them. She raced through the pile, tossing aside what she didn’t need—there! With a grunt, she grabbed two oxy-booster units and sped back to Ruzik and Byte-2. Stepping between their beds, she set up the oxygen boosters, one for each of the brothers. Sleek and compact, each unit had a screen that displayed data, including oxygen flow and heart rate.

“Max, link to the boosters.” Her voice seemed to echo, slowed and deep compared to her enhanced speed. “Do they work?”

“The oxygen delivery function is available.” His voice also sounded drawn out. “They can’t do chest compressions, however. You’ll have to provide those for both patients.”

She laid one palm on Ruzik’s chest and the other on Byte-2. “Control my pushes so I don’t shatter their ribs.”

“Optimizing force and speed.”

Bhaaj began compressions on Ruzik and Byte-2, her action controlled by Max’s routines. She could only hope that his functions hadn’t become too damaged by the algae, that he could still judge well enough to keep her enhanced strength from injuring either brother.

“Start oxygen flow from the boosters,” she said.

“Activating—no, damn it. The delivery system isn’t working on either of them. You’ll have to pump the bags manually.”

“I can’t!” She kept on with the compressions. “I only have two arms.”

“If their brain and vital organs don’t get enough oxygen, they’ll die.”

“Link to my beetle-bot drones,” she grunted. “Have them squeeze the bags.”

“They can’t. They just fly and spy.”

“So have them fly up and down on the bags.” Her words came out in disjointed pieces as she kept up the compressions, her motions more machine-like than human. “If you link their AIs to the booster, they can monitor the oxygen level and adjust their pushes.” She had no idea if it would work, but she had no other options, short of suddenly growing two more arms.

A hum came from the mini-clinic. Startled, Bhaaj realized she’d left her jacket hanging on a chair by one of the consoles, with her beetles in its pockets.

“The blue beetle can’t fly well enough,” Max said. “Our tampering to weaponize it left the drone more susceptible to damage from the algae. However, Red has enough control to do what you want. It will have to alternate between the two booster units.”

“Will it be enough?”

“It might.”

The red beetle flew past Bhaaj, headed for Ruzik’s bed. It descended onto the booster, pushing down into the bag, then rose up again, letting the bag inflate.

“Good,” Bhaaj grunted. “Are my chest compressions working?”

“Yes. I’m controlling your hydraulics to provide what I’ve calculated as the best rhythm and force. I can’t guarantee you won’t break their ribs, but I’m doing my best to avoid it.”

“Thanks.” She kept going—

Again.

Again.

Compress.

Again.

Again.

“Breathe,” she whispered as she worked.

“Bhaaj, your body can’t maintain this,” Max said. “You’re past the recommended limits for using your biomech systems. You need to stop.”

“No! You keep me going. You hear? Even if I’m unconscious, keep my biomech going.”

“It isn’t safe—”

“Do it, damn it! Swear.”

After the barest pause, an eternity for an EI, he said, “I swear.”

“Good.” They both knew he had no choice. The biomech web implanted in her body by the army allowed her to override the EI’s mandate to save her life at all costs. A soldier couldn’t let their EI interfere with their ability to fight during battle. It meant Max couldn’t stop her from using full combat mode no matter what price it demanded, even her own death. She’d done civilian updates to her systems in the years since she retired, but she never changed that aspect of his coding.

Bhaaj kept going.

Her mind gave up any attempt at coherence, driven too far by the bio-electrodes firing her neurons. Her thoughts disintegrated until she stopped thinking, just kept doing compressions.

Again.

Again.

The distant voice of the man singing “The Lost Sky” faded into silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Compress.

Again.

Again.

Silence.

Bhaaj lost her sense of how much timed passed. Minutes? Hours? Drowning in the ocean of her exhaustion, she began to hallucinate, her brain creating fragmented visions that haunted her with their approach. Ghosts gathered in the cavern, far in the distance but coming toward her like the spirits of death.

“Not yet!” she rasped. “You can’t have them.”

Compressions. Keep going.

The ghosts continued their relentless approach, resolving into darkly glimmering forms.

Closer.

Closer still.

Bhaaj ignored them.

Compress.

Compress again.

Every time she raised her head, the hallucinations had drifted closer, come to demand their tribute, the dead she refused to let go.

Compress again.

Her red drone kept inflating and deflating the oxy-boosters, and she kept up the compressions, forcing her body to the highest level she could reach during battle. She fought no soldiers here, carried out no orders, faced no attackers intent on obliterating her. No, this enemy was different, an uncaring, unthinking molecular invader that took life without firing a shot.

Wracked by lack of sleep, her failing mind formed the images of four figures, like the four riders of the apocalypse. They came on, relentless. Merciless. Bhaaj kept going, robbing them of their prizes, the two brothers they sought to claim.

Compress.

Compress. Again.

The ghosts never stopped, but they never rushed either, they just kept moving in their own slowed time.

Stop, she thought to them. Now. Stop.

They ignored her disjointed thought and entered the infirmary, invading the no-longer-safe space, seeking to break the invisible barrier Bhaaj had raised to block their approach. She refused to let Ruzik and Byte-2 pass into their realm. As long as her biomech system would move her arms, she would deny these spirits their demands for tribute.

Compress.

Compress. Again.

Closer still, the ghosts came, only a few beds away—

And then Bhaaj saw it.

The shimmer.

On their bodies.

Decon sheaths.

Decontamination.

Protection against the red rash.

?

Spirits didn’t need a shield against the virus.

“Ah, saints al-damned-mighty,” Bhaaj whispered.

Help had come.

Too late.

Too late.

She continued her compressions, literally unable to stop. Footsteps scraped on the stone floor as the human ghosts approached her, so close now. Time stretched into torturous seconds.

Her vision blurred.

Her arms weakened.

Her rhythm faltered.

Someone kept saying, “Bhaaj, if you don’t stop, you’ll die.”

A voice. Max’s voice.

She kept going.

Going . . . 

Someone touched her shoulder.

She lifted her head. A ghost. A woman. Bhaaj couldn’t focus, only gasp, “Help them.

Another ghost reached them, a man who scanned Ruzik even as Bhaaj worked. When he looked up at the woman and shook his head, Bhaaj said, “No! You can’t give up!”

The woman carefully grasped Bhaaj’s upper arm and tried to pull her away from the beds.

“No.” Bhaaj held her ground. “You give them CPR,” she scraped out. “I’m trying—not enough left in me.”

The woman spoke with great caution, as if Bhaaj were a primed weapon that could explode at any moment. “Major, you must let go of combat mode. You’ll kill yourself.”

“Can’t . . .” Bhaaj groaned as her body strained—

And then Max betrayed his promise and did the supposedly impossible, defying her order. Instead of forcing her biomech to keep her going, he let her body fall.

Bhaaj collapsed forward, plowing into the medic. The woman grabbed her, and Bhaaj just barely glimpsed her air syringe. Bhaaj tried to jerk away, but it was too late. The medic injected her. With a moan of protest, she fell into a darkness that took away the world—

And left only its unforgiving death.


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