Submitted for the May 2024 prompt: Gothic Sci-Fi

Silver moonlight seeped through cracks in the tunnel’s crown, glinting off dust swirling in the wake of the swift. The bullet-shaped vehicle hissed into the distance on cushions of air, its pinprick red running lights glowing like a dragon's eyes in the dark.

 

Alva emerged from the alcove where she’d been hiding and picked her way across the crumbling concrete and corroded steel, a shadow slipping among the shadows. The Snakes were hunting her. She’d been hunted all her life, but it felt different now. Personal.

 

You’re paranoid, she told herself. It was just a patrol. Surge will be here soon.

 

He should have already arrived. She should have gone with him, but he hadn’t allowed it, and now she could but wait, unarmed and barefoot, clothed in a tattered shirt and colorless cutoffs, both charcoal gray. Here in the dark, everything was gray. Her great round eyes, eyes like a tarsier’s, gulped down the faint light but found no trace of him. Her tiny, pointed nose twitched, sampling the stale air, seeking him.

 

He wasn’t there, but something was. Something not of the lower world.

 

She dropped to a crouch too late. Hands fell upon her and hauled her up. Blinding, burning light flared. She threw her hands over her eyes.

 

“Hell,” a low voice whispered, silky, menacing. A Snake voice. “Instant promotion.”

 

“You sure?” a second Snake asked.

 

A long finger stabbed Alva’s cheek. “Birthmark. Like a little bunch of grapes.”

 

The light swung aside. Alva twisted away, but they wrestled her back, hauled her to the tunnel wall, shoved her into the fractured concrete. A chunk of it jabbed her back. Alva’s assailants towered over her, lanky and hard, faces tall and slender and flat. Yellow eyes peered through crystalline vision enhancers. Snakes couldn’t see in the dark without their tech.

 

“Ever do a Rodent?” the deeper voice sneered.

 

“You’re disgusting,” the other said.

 

The first snorted and clamped his hand about Alva’s throat.

 

Where are you, Surge?

 

The Snake’s body pressed against her. Hot breath raked her face. Alva swallowed down revulsion. She refused to show her fear.

 

The Snake drew a sharp breath and went rigid. His fingernails dug into Alva’s arms as a warm spray splattered her face, then he collapsed at her feet. His companion cried out, and a second splash of blood struck the wall.

 

Surge emerged from the dark, crimson-stained knife in hand, round eyes fixed on Alva’s. The slightest tic at the corner of his mouth betrayed his fright.

 

Alva embraced him. “What happened?”

 

He kicked the Snake who had assaulted her. “There were others,” he said.

 

* * *

 

It still felt wrong, though Alva couldn’t fathom why. Probably paranoia. For one thing, they seldom ventured this high. Snakes ruled topside, Rodents the darkness of the lower world. Here was no-man’s land, too dark for Snakes, too bright for Rodents, dangerous to both. It had been so for scores of generations, since the great war, cloaked in myth, that had spawned their races from common stock.

 

But the elders had given them this mission. The Snakes had created a device capable of mapping Rodent presence even in the deepest levels. It had to be found and disabled, and Surge and Alva were chosen for the task. He was the descendant of warriors, she the brilliant offspring of great technicians, mates bound so tight they could all but think as one.

 

If I’m so smart, how was I ambushed?

 

Surge led, his hand tugging hers. Her legs ached from keeping up. “It’s on the surface,” he said. “Unguarded.”

 

That made no sense. “It must be a trap,” she said. “They know we’re coming.”

 

“How?”

 

She didn’t know.

 

They halted at a corroded metal door hanging cockeyed by one hinge. Beyond, stairs ascended into moonlight. Signaling Alva to wait, Surge crept up, crouched like a compressed spring. An eternity later, she felt rather than saw him beckon. She ascended, squinting against the light.

 

A great circular room surrounded them, part of its arc an expanse of shattered windows. Powdered glass fanned across the floor, glinting like snow in the moonlight. Vines crept over cracked walls. No sound but the wind. No wayward scents. Not yet. Their objective stood dead center, a black obelisk.

 

Fear all but choked Alva. This isn’t Snake tech. She ran a hand over its polished surface. It felt like stone, yet faint vibrations pulsed within. Not a scanner. A generator. A Norm microfusion tower.

 

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

 

Surge looked puzzled but didn’t question her. He took her hand just as a shot ricocheted off the obelisk. He pulled her to the ground, rolled atop her to protect her. But they had no cover. They were as good as dead unless sheer speed could save them.

 

Yet no further shots sounded. Instead, footfalls rushed in from opposite directions. Two Snakes, no more.

 

Alva finally understood. They mean to capture us. She looked into Surge’s eyes. He flicked a glance at his leg. Slow and silent, she unsheathed his blade.

 

The first to reach them kicked Surge in the face. He rolled with the impact, freeing Alva. She sprung and buried the blade in the Snake’s chest. The other raised his weapon, but Surge lunged at his midsection, and they toppled. In the scuffle, the weapon discharged. The shot tore through Alva’s shoulder. Enraged, Surge snapped the Snake’s head about. Bones cracked.

 

He crawled to Alva, her pain mirrored in his face. “I’m sorry!”

 

“Accident,” she whispered.

 

He inspected her wound. “It’s not bad. You’ll be fine.”

 

“We were to be captured.”

 

“Why?”

 

“They know us.”

 

Surge stroked Alva’s hair. The corner of his mouth lifted. “They fear us.”

 

“Yes, but more than that. They would use us.”

 

“They won’t,” he promised. He helped Alva to her feet, and together they faded back into the darkness of the lower world.

 

She knew he would always protect her. None could do so better. But how long could he protect himself?