The White Rabbit Chronicles - Part IX

IX

The twisted shouts of the Anarakians cascaded off the walls. White Rabbit had burrowed deep in the maintenance gear, safe from their wandering gazes. The men answering to the Black Skull were tearing into what was left of Sainne’s guard, berating them for their sudden violence within their master’s sanctum. The other crew spat back a half-heard rejoinder about a white rabbit slipping the scene.

Fortunately for that escapee, the resident troopers were more concerned with securing their guests than listening to them. She had a few minutes. For whatever good that would do.

She needed to vanish. Sainne had popped a rabbit hole, and that sent the whole grid offline for who knows how long. Days, at worst. Somehow, she had to survive on enemy turf until the switch flipped. With no backup and no retreat.

Pain flashed up her shoulder again. She’d been tagged in the shoulder–just flesh deep. She would live. She could move. But she didn’t have the time or space to patch it up. Everything was stacking up against her. A wave of despair hit her as she considered that this time she might not be able to slip away. That the improbable chase ended here.

She glanced around at the strange technology from a lost future. Little of it meant anything to her. At least, not on its own.

The two Anarakian factions were still scuttling around, trying to get a handle on the situation. White Rabbit didn’t wait for a shift in that beat. She stalked, hunched over, along the trail of crates and bizarre contraptions towards the time gate that lurked silent in the back of this chamber.

One of the Black Skull’s men was laying it on a particularly vociferous opponent.

White Rabbit snagged a cart and quickly wheeled it through the great alabaster rings, and into the long shaft that ran deep into the station.

“Aren’t you listening? There’s a Time Peace agent here right now!” the rival hollered over the din.

White Rabbit leapt onto the bottom of the cart, draped by the dangling tool flaps above. She curled into a ball as it rolled a few beats longer before the room started to stifle.

There was a loud thunk of a fist into flesh. But then, the captain of the Black Skull’s guard barked, “Secure the perimeter. We’re going to need a search team.”

White Rabbit held her breath. Only luck could save her now.

***

The palpable aura of superstition around the time gate had kept her safe for a while. The soldiers that had crept in to scan the gate’s guts hadn’t stuck around long. The arcane machine had been laying down a sense of awe and dread for what must have seemed like eons. Even White Rabbit herself was feeling pulses of dark discordance the longer she hid in the tangled machinery.

When the trooper had inspected the far end, she had seized her chance and crawled out. Slinking low, she hemmed herself into a gap between pipes and grates, tucking herself as far as she could into the blanket of shadow. Her quick, silent movements depended on one thing – the soldier not turning back around as she made them. She was almost there–only one leg trailing–when he spun around.

Rabbit froze. Her breath evaporated. The soldier was marching back. Towards the chamber outside. Towards her.

The soldier strode forward determinedly. And right past her spot. In his haste to leave the murky interior of the great machine, he managed to miss her by inches. White Rabbit let out the softest whisper of air as she tugged her leg back into the safe veil of darkness.

And then the man stopped.

The beat skipped in White Rabbit’s heart. Frozen fingers eased towards her time gauge. The wait had been long enough for some juice to trickle back into the gizmo. Enough to offer her options–none of them great. Did she dump everything into a single blast, or try to hold some back by skipping through a few loops of the arena? How many loops could she afford?

Pain radiated up her shoulder. Well, that answered that. She couldn’t win a fight, even with the arena. She had to go for broke.

The soldier turned back around.

White Rabbit palmed the lens.

He started walking back carefully.

She dialed the gauge up to maximum.

The trooper crouched by the cart and peeled the flap away. Satisfied there were no surprises there, he let it fall limp and scurried out of the time gate, fleeing its spectral pull.

White Rabbit caught her breath in gulps of stale air. She pulled her leg back in and settled in for the wait.

And it was longer and more painful than she had realized it would be. In the hours of stifled breath and pulsing aches, no sign of the gate springing back to life reached her. It remained obstinately silent and dark, and there was no sign of haste from the workers outside. Not that they could do anything to shorten the wait for the network to reset.

As she lay curled in her agonizing cocoon, her shoulder screamed at her. It ground down her resolve until the only choice was action. She risked unbunching herself and crawling back into the open recesses of the passage.

She glanced back out through the hollow frame of the time gate. A couple of shadows on the far side of the room hunched over some inscrutable device. She prayed they wouldn’t look over and into the gate. And if they did, she pleaded that they couldn’t pierce the shadows that were covering her.

She tore at her clothing until she had a rough bandage. No antiseptic. The thought crawled through her mind, but she couldn’t gamble on a scrounge through the cart. The odds were too low to clatter through its contents. She cinched the fabric tight on her shoulder and bit down on the grunts that threatened to sound with each jolt of agony.

She crawled back into her little crack, a prayer on her lips that the move had been unseen. And that this new position wouldn’t be as unbearable as the first.

It was about as bad. But what else could she do? Fighting her way out was a dream for a different Rabbit. She had to lay low until either the time gate flicked on or some miracle landed in her lap.

The time gate wouldn’t lead to anywhere safe, of course. It would spit her out in another nest of Anarakians, but it was better than–

A soft trickle of an idea poured over the membranes of her mind. As it pooled into a plan, she felt more and more certain. She was in the wrong place.

***

Carter Onai, Anarakian technician, lugged his toolbag into the back of the time gate. It was still down from the blackout, but that only meant a chance for a new hustle. He reflected that even in Time Peace, the routine must have been the same. When a rabbit hole opened, and all the gates went silent, the technicians got a rare chance. Both sides of the war (really, there were more than just two) no doubt insisted on maximizing gate uptime. Which meant there was precious little chance for much needed maintenance. So when they were forced offline by a meta-temporal displacement, everyone, Time Peace or Anarakia, would seize the chance.

Too bad the jarheads had slowed Onai’s team getting to Gate 5. Some sort of scuffle with the outsiders. Rumors had been spreading like wildfire about what exactly had happened. The strange rituals of Anarak Sainne were great fodder for these stories. But Onai had only managed to catch snippets.

The good news was that his Anarak was one of the few who valued the work of teams like his. The Black Skull, while having a nickname to inspire fear, was on the level when it came to handling his favorite artifacts. While the demands of war kept his rings running regularly, he did not deprioritize repairs and surveys arbitrarily. So while Gate 5 had to wait for its turn, Onai and the other workers had zoned in on the always turbulent Gate 8 without throwing a wrench into their works.

Carter was now the first on scene after this site had been declared clear. He didn’t anticipate much would need to be done. He already had mentally filled in the orders on his papers – little more than routine work. But he would still dutifully inspect the machine for any anomalies.

At the maw of the gate, he thumbed his flashlight. He hadn’t heard anything about gunfire in chamber 5, but that was about the only thing that could turn an ordinary repair job into something more complicated. He didn’t expect it, but it was his job to anticipate problems.

He frowned as his beam fell upon a work cart halfway down the access tunnel. How had that gotten there? Gate 5 hadn’t needed any special care. He double-checked his clipboard. No, it had been up and running before the disruption. Which meant someone had gotten sloppy and left it there for ages (while the gate was running!) or someone did a run-around and gotten work done off the book.

He sighed and muttered to himself. Now there were a number of ways this could be more than a normal repair. Fortunately, there were no pockmarks from bullets or ricochets.

As the beam traced the passage walls, searching for signs of what the forgetful team had done, he caught a glimmer of strange silver. He turned back and–

Carter doubled over in shock. Pain followed a moment later, but beat understanding to the finish line. Something whirled in front of his murky vision, and he raised his left arm protectively without thought.

Something batted it away and finally Carter understood. He was under attack. The whirl of black and white was rearing for another strike. He retreated stumblingly into the opposite wall, pressing himself against the pipes as it came at him.

Something smashed into his face and he tasted copper. He buckled and realized he was kneeling on the ground when he heard his helmet clack next to him. Panic set in. His right hand was squeezing the flashlight like it was a lifeline.

He swung it up and around in a wild swing. The dampened thunk reverberated up his arm. He made out a clattering ahead of him, and there was actually enough of a moment for his thoughts to cohere. His vision stabilized, and he pulled himself back to his feet.

He could feel he was in bad shape. He wasn’t a fighter, and he had been hit several times in the head. But he was up. And he had enough time to swing around the light to catch his assailant.

The beam seemed to freeze his attacker in place. Her eyes narrowed in the light. Her fresh attack was paused just at the wind up.

Carter couldn’t believe it. She was young. Maybe twenty. Pale as if from exhaustion, with long white hair, but wearing a newsboy cap of all things. That and the rest of her dark attire had been the black contrasting against her hair. There was something else, too – something wrong with the torn fabric wrapped near the top of her body, but he didn’t get a chance to process it before she recovered.

She kicked at his outstretched arm. The boot made contact with the back of his hand and it spasmed, releasing the flashlight. It tumbled to the floor, leaving Carter in the dark. His eyes, dependent on the tool to see, couldn’t make out the next move the girl made.

But he wasn’t waiting. As soon as it flew from his grip, desperation forced him after it. It was his only weapon, and he dove to the ground in pursuit.

Something collapsed on top of him as he hit the floor. The girl – she was on top of him. Grabbing at him. Trying to find his head.

He ferociously clawed at the ground, towards the source of the light illuminating the back of the passage. He pulled her with him as he went. He might not have been a fighter, but he was stronger than her. If he could just–

She grabbed at his face, pulling his head back. He groped desperately for the light. His fingers brushed it as she slammed another fist into the side of his head.

Then somehow, he found his grip clamped on the light. He tried to roll, to swing it back around at her.

And she caught his arm. She yanked at one of his fingers. White-hot agony shot up his arm and he he let out a ragged scream.

The flashlight fell, and she grabbed it. With one last swing, it was over.

***

White Rabbit tried to control her breathing. Her cheek was throbbing, and so was her shoulder. Her body felt like it weighed a ton. The fight shouldn’t have been that hard, but she was weak. She couldn’t let that show, but she couldn’t see herself. She hoped she didn’t look as bad as she felt.

She pulled the helmet as low as she could. It wasn’t much. She was now wearing the workman’s coveralls. Hopefully no one would ask to see the passcard she had clipped to her belt. She had clasped it on backwards so the man’s picture would less often be visible. The cart she’d be pushing would also block it from sight.

It was heavy. Because unconscious and bound at the bottom was the man she’d attacked. She’d have to ditch it soon. Frankly, she didn’t know if the man was alive or dead. She hadn’t bothered to check. She couldn’t bear to check. A dark, whispering part of her hoped he was dead. It was the best bet for her escape.

That same secretive sliver urged her to make sure the job was done. But she couldn’t face that part of herself.

Gripping the cart with white knuckles, she beat it out of the gate. Head down, steps steady, she held the course. Rapidity was a necessity. Surely other workers would follow the one she was now hauling, and they would be able to sniff out that she didn’t belong. They could do it at first glance, if anything.

Barely noticing where she was going, she left the time gate chamber and down into another hallway. She heard voices ahead. This was the moment of truth. Confidence, she reminded herself. Keeping head low, she hoped that a firm stride and little time would keep prying eyes from landing on her hair – the little that wasn’t stuffed up into the helmet, that was.

She passed a couple of conversing colleagues, and not a word was said to her.

It was working. Her aching body shuddered slightly. No time to lose. She had to ditch this guy.

She turned into a room that looked right. Perfect! There was a fridge and a sink. No one else in sight. She went straight for the fridge and picked the first bag and bottle her hands could reach. Testing the bottle, she found some sort of tangy carbonated concoction. She quickly dumped it in the sink and filled it with water instead. She downed half the bottle again in greedy gulps before filling it back up, then shoved it and the bag into a box on the cart and set out again.

As soon as she found a storage room that responded to her card, she shoved the cart inside, grabbed the box with her goodies, and locked the door behind her.

She had maxed out her risk tolerance. The universe was showing mercy so far, but she had only had to chance passing a handful of low level techs. No guards. And a single workman had been almost more than she could handle. The next path crossed would be her last. She believed that as firmly as she believed her name was White Rabbit.

Bad example. She didn’t know what variation she was in this timeline. And she wasn’t sure what it meant anymore. She was running on fear and instinct more than anything. These were bad people in here. She couldn’t be found. Beyond that, what did anything mean?

Suddenly she realized she was back at the chamber Sainne had used. The one she had appeared in. The one she was created in? The one that this nightmare had started in.

Or had it started on Iterant Point? What was Iterant Point? Had that been her? A past life? A different entity altogether?

She was all White Rabbits. Right? She had to be. Or they would all die here.

She walked into the room, dragging her feet. Were there people here, or were these just phantoms? Just walk like you belong, an old voice said in her head. An old lesson repeated. She walked automatically towards the depths of the time gate.

As she reached the alabaster rings, she felt her innards twist. Something was wrong. She’d cross through the invisible membrane and something would happen. She was going to vanish. This wasn’t an inactive gate – this was a trick.

No, shut up, shut up, shut up, she tried to tell herself.

Don’t do it.

She put one foot through the ring before she could alter her pattern.

Nothing happened. She hopped through the rest of the way and shivered. She was still here. As real as she ever was. Which wasn’t as comforting a thought as it might have once been.

She walked back into the innards of the gate and found a new nook to curl up into. She glanced back outside. She could hear a murmur or two of quiet discussion, but they didn’t seem to have been perturbed by her entering.

She opened up her box and tore into the stolen lunch. She felt life surge back into her limbs, but her shoulder started to flare worse than ever. But her arms weren’t as shaky. She sipped on the water, this time slowly. She could make it.

Probably.

***

END TRANSMISSION