Connell fumbled with his beltpack, pulled out the scrambler and snapped it on.
Almost instantly, the silverbugs’ coordinated movement collapsed into a jumble of wandering confusion. The current caught one and sent it washing downstream, lost in the frothy rapids.
Veronica swam to the wall and pulled herself up. She and Connell helped pull Lybrand up onto the wall, then helped O'Doyle. Veronica looked at her companions, all exhausted, all wounded, all doomed. She knew, now, that none of them would make it out alive. Too many rocktopi, too many injuries, too far to travel. They were all going to die.
Just like Sanji.
Just like Randy.
Just like Mack.
Just like Jansson.
Just like Fritz.
Just like Lashon.
Veronica wouldn't let it be for nothing. She stood and walked into the chamber toward the dangling orb, eyes focused and blazing with hatred. She absently tried to untie her rope as she walked.
Connell rushed toward her. “Veronica, I don't think we should move away from the water.” He grabbed her shoulder. She shrugged his hand away.
"It doesn't matter, Connell,” she said, her eyes scanning the chamber, looking for what she knew had to be waiting. There. She saw the control panel, the same one illustrated on the alcove carving.
"Why doesn't it matter, Veronica?” Connell asked gently. He obviously didn't have the faintest idea of how his voice sounded odd, as if he were patiently talking to a child.
"It doesn't matter because I'm not going in the water again,” Veronica said without looking at him. “I'm staying here."
"What do you mean you're staying here?” Connell matched her steps toward the large, spotless control panel. The rope that tied them together dragged limply behind. “We're almost out of here."
She stopped, turned, and looked into his eyes.
"I've got to do it,” she said. “I've got to destroy them. Them and all of this. It doesn't belong here, can't you understand that? They're not a part of this reality."
"You're upset,” he said. “And understandably so. But Sanji's gone, and you can't sacrifice yourself. It won't bring him back. Besides, how could you figure all of this out?"
"I'm smart, remember? Cover of National Geographic and all that. Little ol’ thing like a ten-thousand-year-old alien bomb shouldn't faze me a bit."
Connell grabbed her fiercely by the shoulders. “No! No way! I've had enough people die in this godforsaken place, and I won't allow another to be killed. You're coming with us!"
His fingers dug painfully into her shoulders. She knew he meant it. He would take her by force, if necessary, back into the river. He was injured, but still much stronger than her. There was no way she could stop him from dragging her into the water.
"Okay,” she said quietly, hanging her head. “I… I don't know what I was saying. I don't want to stay here."
"Goddamn right you don't!” Connell said, pulling her back toward the water by one arm. “O'Doyle, your rest is over, we've got to go."
"Yes sir, boss,” O'Doyle said, gently slipping Lybrand back into the water and following her in. “Check your ropes — this is where the river gets rough and we have to swim across."
Connell firmly pushed Veronica toward the water. She bent down at the wall's edge and slipped in with a small splash. He switched off the scrambler and stuffed it into his beltpack, then jumped in. The silverbugs suffered a collective shiver, then returned to their coordinated activity.
"Ready?” Connell asked. Veronica and O'Doyle nodded.
They pushed toward the river's center.
Veronica chanced a look back over her shoulder. The silverbugs wandered across the orb's polished surface, keeping it perpetually prepared to fulfill its role. Over ten thousand years they'd been down here, under this mountain, older than any human civilization, older than any human religion. How long would they continue to exist? A poisoned, dying race, barely hanging on to intelligence, barely above the level of animals, kept alive only by their caring machines.
How long?
Weakness filled Veronica — it was all just too much. The current started to tug at her exhausted body.
"Connell,” she said softly, then closed her eyes and stopped moving. She slipped below the surface.
Chapter Forty-five
Veronica!” Connell thrashed about madly, searching for any sign of her. He couldn't see her under the murky black water.
"Pull on your rope!” O'Doyle yelled. “The rope!"
Connell suddenly remembered the rope tied about his chest, the other end tied around Veronica. He pulled it while fighting to stay afloat. Like reeling in a dead fish, her motionless body broke the surface once and then again sank below. Connell dove toward her.
The current's edge tugged at both of them, sending them gently downstream. He swam with powerful strokes, ignoring his body's pain and fatigue. He reached her sinking body in seconds, grabbed her limp form and started pulling her toward the surface.
Suddenly she came alive with violent motion, pulling him under. Instinct kicked in and Connell pumped toward the surface, momentarily forgetting that he'd been trying to save her. She grabbed at his waist, pulling him down again. Air bubbles escaped his lips. His eyes widened with panic.
He felt a hand at the small of his back as his head broke the surface. The current tugged firmly at him, pulling him toward the center of the river. He felt his rope snap tight, then relax slightly as his weight pulled Veronica downstream. Where was she? He felt the rope start to bob tight again, then suddenly all tension disappeared. The rope floated limply to the surface.
Veronica's head surfaced upstream and she loudly gasped for air. She swam clumsily toward the shore, his knife in one of her hands, his beltpack in the other.
"Veronica, come back!” Connell struggled with all his might against the current, which hungrily tried to suck him downstream. He kept pumping, kept kicking, and felt the current ease up as he closed on the shallows.
A sudden jerk around his waist yanked him back. His muscles screamed in exhaustion as O'Doyle and Lybrand's weight pulled him downstream.
"O'Doyle, help me!"
"I can't! The current's got us!"
Connell fought to reach Veronica, who stumbled onto the shallows one hundred yards downstream from the orb. It was a battle he couldn't win. O'Doyle's weight pulled him into the current's strength, and they shot downstream like a speedboat. He managed one last look back before he turned his attention to surviving the deadly river.
Already tiny and far away, Veronica waved good-bye.
"Well, buddy boy, I think we're finished,” Kayla said with an air of satisfaction. There were only five people left, they had no guns, and they were coming her way. Angus had told her everything.
The Dense Mass was an alien ship. The aliens? They were the monsters that had attacked the camp and slaughtered the EarthCore people. The monsters, he called them “rocktopi,” were in the tunnels, but they wouldn't go near the ship, and they wouldn't go into the Dense Mass cavern. She knew he was telling the truth — when Kayla Meyers finished her work, they all told the truth.
Tears streaked Angus's face and snot bubbled out his nose. Quiet whimpers revealed the shearing pain of his broken knuckles. He still lay on his stomach, hands and feet tied behind him, eyes and cheeks shimmering with wetness.