and the warren fell utterly silent, like a tomb.
Myers and I used our rifle torches to help Yulia
navigate through the pitch-black tunnels, judging that our enemy was far too
far ahead of us to pose a threat.
‘Shame the FEA can’t get the lights working,’ Myers
said, flicking his torch beam to illuminate a strip light above his head.
‘I’d imagine they have more important things on
their minds than making this place more welcoming,’ I replied in a whisper.
There was no longer any need to be so quiet, not yet anyway, but there was no
point in breaking good habits.
Yulia’s knowledge of the underground fortress was
clearly intimate. Every time she looked down at my map she pointed out
something new, like a tunnel that was no longer passable or a new section that
had recently been added. I double-checked my datapad constantly as we went, trying
to keep a sense of where we were, but it was hard not to become disorientated. So
many of the tunnels she took us down weren’t on the map, confusing even the
computer within my datapad that was tracking our movements.
It was fascinating moving through such an old warren
that had changed hands so many times. Some of the tunnels had been hastily cut
out of the rock, with ribbed, perfectly cylindrical walls typically left behind
by a laser drill, whilst others took the form of neat square corridors that
could easily be found inside a regular building. Occasionally we passed through
accommodation similar to that which I was used to inside the more established
Union warrens, with solid bulkhead doors, panelled walls and abandoned pieces
of furniture. Other times we entered large cavernous chambers stacked with
supplies, ammunition and equipment - the gold which had drawn Edo into taking
the warren in the first place. I wondered which of these chambers had held the
anti-orbital missiles that Bhasin and Helstrom so desperately wanted, missiles
that had somehow turned enemies into friends, and friends into enemies.
Some of the lower tunnels still told of the fighting
that had raged over the past few years, with scattered bodies and scorched
walls that had been peppered with shrapnel. At one point we made our way down a
steep tunnel with crude steps cut out of the rock, only those steps had been
virtually covered in corpses and discarded equipment. The bodies were old, I
could tell by the thick layer of dust that had settled on them. Perhaps they
were the original combatants that had fought when the Loyalists had invaded
months ago, or perhaps they were even older. Things didn’t decompose very quickly
on Eden, and not at all when underground.
It was strange to think that the warren had changed
hands so many times. I wondered what secrets it held, how many men and women
had died within its darkened tunnels, then I wondered how many more were yet to
join them. I shook off the last thought.
We had descended several hundred metres when Yulia eventually
called for us to halt along a wide supply tunnel, and crouched beside an open
bulkhead door framed by hazard markings. Large signs flanked the doorway, and
though I couldn’t read the writing, I could see that the large red letters were
obviously meant to warn people not to enter without good cause.
‘We are in the life support level,’ Yulia told me as
the remainder of the platoon closed up behind us.
I nodded knowingly. The lowest section of any warren
was home to life support, power supply and other critical functions, kept as
deep as physically possible to counter the risk from orbital bombardment.
‘What’s through there, then?’ I asked, gesturing toward
the bulkhead.
‘This is one of the entrances into the sewer that I
told you about,’ she replied.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘So this is how you came up
into the warren?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Two hundred of us. The
Loyalists had never expected us to enter from the sewers, so we had taken the
entire lower level before they knew what was happening. Our attack
Myers and I used our rifle torches to help Yulia
navigate through the pitch-black tunnels, judging that our enemy was far too
far ahead of us to pose a threat.
‘Shame the FEA can’t get the lights working,’ Myers
said, flicking his torch beam to illuminate a strip light above his head.
‘I’d imagine they have more important things on
their minds than making this place more welcoming,’ I replied in a whisper.
There was no longer any need to be so quiet, not yet anyway, but there was no
point in breaking good habits.
Yulia’s knowledge of the underground fortress was
clearly intimate. Every time she looked down at my map she pointed out
something new, like a tunnel that was no longer passable or a new section that
had recently been added. I double-checked my datapad constantly as we went, trying
to keep a sense of where we were, but it was hard not to become disorientated. So
many of the tunnels she took us down weren’t on the map, confusing even the
computer within my datapad that was tracking our movements.
It was fascinating moving through such an old warren
that had changed hands so many times. Some of the tunnels had been hastily cut
out of the rock, with ribbed, perfectly cylindrical walls typically left behind
by a laser drill, whilst others took the form of neat square corridors that
could easily be found inside a regular building. Occasionally we passed through
accommodation similar to that which I was used to inside the more established
Union warrens, with solid bulkhead doors, panelled walls and abandoned pieces
of furniture. Other times we entered large cavernous chambers stacked with
supplies, ammunition and equipment - the gold which had drawn Edo into taking
the warren in the first place. I wondered which of these chambers had held the
anti-orbital missiles that Bhasin and Helstrom so desperately wanted, missiles
that had somehow turned enemies into friends, and friends into enemies.
Some of the lower tunnels still told of the fighting
that had raged over the past few years, with scattered bodies and scorched
walls that had been peppered with shrapnel. At one point we made our way down a
steep tunnel with crude steps cut out of the rock, only those steps had been
virtually covered in corpses and discarded equipment. The bodies were old, I
could tell by the thick layer of dust that had settled on them. Perhaps they
were the original combatants that had fought when the Loyalists had invaded
months ago, or perhaps they were even older. Things didn’t decompose very quickly
on Eden, and not at all when underground.
It was strange to think that the warren had changed
hands so many times. I wondered what secrets it held, how many men and women
had died within its darkened tunnels, then I wondered how many more were yet to
join them. I shook off the last thought.
We had descended several hundred metres when Yulia eventually
called for us to halt along a wide supply tunnel, and crouched beside an open
bulkhead door framed by hazard markings. Large signs flanked the doorway, and
though I couldn’t read the writing, I could see that the large red letters were
obviously meant to warn people not to enter without good cause.
‘We are in the life support level,’ Yulia told me as
the remainder of the platoon closed up behind us.
I nodded knowingly. The lowest section of any warren
was home to life support, power supply and other critical functions, kept as
deep as physically possible to counter the risk from orbital bombardment.
‘What’s through there, then?’ I asked, gesturing toward
the bulkhead.
‘This is one of the entrances into the sewer that I
told you about,’ she replied.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘So this is how you came up
into the warren?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Two hundred of us. The
Loyalists had never expected us to enter from the sewers, so we had taken the
entire lower level before they knew what was happening. Our attack
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