Labyrinth of Death | Chapter 9

It's Saturday. As such, I'm posting two chapters of Labyrinth of Death today. This is the second.

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9


“Can’t believe it,” grumbled Barras as he forged a path through the knee-high snow. “Twenty troopers, and old black-beard had to pick me. Me! And I already chose a partner. Now, Moran the morbid will partner with Raenen.”
He paused, shivering. “Wonder why she didn’t like the name Rae.”
A roar rang out. Black eyes appeared in a mound of snow up ahead. Dark horns. Long white fur.
“Oh, come on!” Barras pulled out both his blasters and fired repeatedly at the wampa. The beast groaned, plumes of smoke rising from blaster holes in its fur, and collapsed on the ground. “Wampas are supposed to be inside the labyrinth, not outside it!”
He moved past the dead wampa, struggling through the snow. “And I’m the one who hates the cold the most! Is Moran trying to drive that out of me?”
He took another step. The boot crunched through the snow and found nothing below.
“Aah!” Barras plunged forwards over a precipice and landed in a pile of deep snow a metre below. Struggling, he floundered out to shallower snow and rose to his feet, brushing the clinging flakes off his snow coat. “Bad visibility!”
He suddenly froze and stared out over the white plains. A dark dome rose from the whiteness.
“Well, guess that’s the labyrinth,” whispered Barras, still staring at it. “The journey shouldn’t take too long, then.”

–––––

Barras stood at the foot of the dome and stared up. The surface was completely black, completely smooth, without decoration. He shook his head in awe. “Whoever built this surely knew what they were doing.”
He pressed a button on the transmitter on his wrist and spoke into it. “Captain, I’m at the laboratory.” He released the button.
Captain Moran’s voice echoed through the speaker. “Get in there and deactivate the wampa traps before I use your teeth for a necklace!”
Barras shook his head. That was Captain Moran, all right. “On it, sir.”
He broke into a jog, circling the labyrinth. Surely there had to be a door someplace.
“Aha!” He skidded to a stop. A small red diode light had been inserted into the wall. At his touch, it receded into the wall. Something clicked, and the outline of a door appeared. The door retreated into a dark passageway behind, leaving the way open for Barras.
Barras pressed his transmitter button again. “I’m in, sir.”
“Hurry up.”
“Yes, sir.” Barras switched off the transmitter completely and tapped the side of his helmet, activating two headlights. The bright blue beams swept the walls as he turned his head.
Behind him, the door slid shut, cutting off the light from outside. Barras turned. No red light on this side. Only a strange carving, a curved tooth crossed with a sickle.
He glanced down the passageway. “Looks like I’ll have to go this way if I want to survive.”

–––––

“This is taking hours,” grumbled Barras as he chose a fork’s left passage. “Even though it’s only been fifteen minutes. I’m not cut out for this sort of work. And it’s cold in here.”
He tapped the chin guard of his helmet. “Time to think creatively. How would the Inmar workers stop wampas getting into their rooms and eating them all?”
He looked around. “Any small holes around here?”
His lights glided over the floor and walls. He looked up and stared at the roof, tilting his head to one side. “I wonder…”
In the light of his headlights, a circular outline gleamed. Two depressions formed a handle.
“Lovely.” Barras pressed a button on his gauntlet and held it for a few seconds. Small rods emerged from the palm and fingers. After repeating the process with his second gauntlet, he pulled off his snow boots and lifted one foot, pressing the button on the boot’s side. “Magnetic climbing.”
He touched the wall with his magnetised boot. The boot stuck to the wall, and he lunged upwards, his magnetised gauntlet sticking to the wall. He raised his other foot and activated the magnets. Like a spider, he scaled the wall and ventured out, upside down, onto the roof.
Barras glanced down and gulped. His snow boots still lay on the ground. Hurry up, Barras, before a wampa smells those boots and warns the rogue Sith!
He touched the circular outline and hooked his finger through the depression. He pulled downwards. Something creaked. But nothing budged.
“Push?” he wondered aloud. With the back of his hand, he whacked the circle’s centre softly. For the briefest second, a crack of darkness was visible.
“Score,” Barras whispered. He pushed up again. The circular hatch rose on hinges and clattered open.
He cast a look down at his snow boots, then climbed into the hatch.
As the roar of a wampa echoed through the passages below.

–––––––––––––––––––

Dmitri Pendragon
Blog Moderator