City of Ruins - By Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page 0,54

the communicator in his ear. “Nothing,” he says. “I shouted too.”

I heard him do that.

“No one has responded,” Mikk says.

I nod. Those guides have never struck me as particularly trustworthy.

“All right, then,” I say, and grab the rung directly in front of me before I can change my mind.

I’m not wearing gloves. I’m surprised at the coolness of the black surface. The rung is carved into the wall, not sticking out of the wall. I expected the rung to be smooth as glass. Instead, it’s wavy, with a bit of roughness, something that will hold a boot.

And there’s an actual hand-sized hole in the back of the rung, something I can easily grip.

I’m going to be free-climbing, but I’ll be free-climbing with handholds and a relatively safe place to put my feet.

“Don’t look down,” Roderick says to me. He’s speaking very softly.

He’s right; I know that. I also know that if he had not reminded me, I would have looked down at some point.

It’s not the same to look below you when you’re working in zero gravity. First of all, what’s below you might be above you if everything spins or shifts. But, second, if you lose your grip, you float.

I will not float here.

My heart is pounding.

I take a deep breath—and climb.

* * * *

TWENTY-EIGHT

H

and up. Foot up. Followed by opposite hand. Then opposite foot. I concentrate on each movement, marveling at how well constructed the ladder is. The handholds fit my fingers. The rough surface keeps my boots steady.

The early part of the climb is easy. It’s almost like walking. The slope is gentle, the ladder more of a guide than a necessity.

But a third of the way up, the wall’s angle gets steep. Suddenly, I’m climbing, hand over hand, foot on one rung at a time, with nothing to support me except my grip and my caution.

I feel awkward, my torso hanging out in the air. I also feel heavy. I can feel the weight of my body with each movement.

My arms are tiring first. Apparently, I lack upper-body strength, something I didn’t know. But my legs are getting tired as well. And I’m getting thirsty, which means I’m getting dehydrated. I have a slight headache between my eyes, caused by the growing dry heat.

Sweat drips off my nose and chin.

As long as I sweat, I’m all right.

I should have left the damn environmental suit on, though. I hadn’t thought that through.

I really hadn’t thought any of this underground stuff through, not until now.

When I’m halfway up, I hear sounds. I’m not sure what they are—some kind of rustling, or maybe even conversation. It’s not what I expect in any way, but I haven’t really listened before. The hovercart moved so quickly as it went into the caves that I couldn’t notice details like sound and distance.

“Hello the top!” I yell as I pause, hanging there.

I don’t like hanging. It feels precarious. It also makes me want to look down.

“Boss?” I hear a relieved female voice.

Then Ilona leans over the edge, her black hair surrounding her face. She’s not supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be collating the research and doing some work with the City of Vaycehn.

“That’s me,” I say.

“God,” she says, and stops so quickly that I hear the rest although she doesn’t speak it. We thought you were dead.

Yeah, well. We could have been.

“They wouldn’t let us go down there. They say it’s not safe,” she says.

“They’re right. It’s not safe,” I say. “There’s fallen rock everywhere.”

“Let me get you help,” she says, and backs away before I can tell her not to. I don’t want a rope or a guiding hand or some equipment sent down here. I want to keep climbing, one hand over the other, moving slowly, until I reach the top.

I think—just for a moment—of climbing faster. But that way lies error, and error can cause death.

I resume my pace—right hand up, followed by right foot. Then left hand up, followed by left foot. I climb another three meters before she reappears.

“Are you the only survivor?” she asks, and in spite of my best intentions, I shudder.

“The Six are fine. So are Mikk and Roderick,” I say. “If anyone else was below, we haven’t seen them.”

Which is a polite way for me to tell her that any guides who were waiting by the hovercart have either fled or been crushed.

“Are the others climbing behind you?” she asks.

“No,” I say. “I’m coming up, then we’re going to figure out how