Devon crawled behind his mother and listened to Zoe’s voice on the other end of his earpiece. Seach was leading but that didn’t mean the rest of them didn’t need to know where they were going. He heard Zoe tell them to take the next rightward juncture and exhaled. His elbow brushed against the air-duct wall and he pulled it back, afraid of making excess noise.

This was just like spelunking, he told himself. The only difference was that there would be people with guns on the other side of the wall.

He swallowed tightly, commanding his fear to a back seat in his mind, and tried to think of something else. Two metal discs were buried deep into Jo’s feet, winking at him right at her heels. Something was wrong with her. He knew it like he knew his own room, he just couldn’t figure out what it was.

She’d been slow in the fight against Relo, slow enough she’d almost been shot. He frowned, remembering the look on her face just before Seach took over the fight. She hadn’t appeared frightened or angry, which didn’t seem right.

No, she’d looked resigned, as if she meant to die.

“We’re at a vertical shaft,” Seach said.

“Go up,” Zoe instructed and Devon had to concentrate as they all shimmied into the tight access point.

There wasn’t enough space for them all. Devon crammed up beside his mother, wincing when he heard her breath catch in pain. He met her gaze for a moment and frowned at the strained smile she tried to give him.

She should be better by now. Why wasn’t she better?

“You go first,” Jorry said, nodding to the space just ahead.

The duct opened into a five-point access, with one shaft leading up. Devon could see Seach unhooking Relo from his gear, laying the man down right in the center of the juncture.

“No, I don’t think so …” Devon said.

“The third flap on the left side of your belt should be a safety line,” she said, completely ignoring him. “Give Seach the hook end.”

“Mom …”

“Seach has to go up first to replace an anchor point,” Jorry interrupted him again. “Once it’s secure we need you to pull Relo up.”

“And who is going to pull you up?” Devon glanced at Seach, who was staring up the shaft with his light and appeared to be ignoring their argument. “Mom, you couldn’t lift a ten pound crate at this point and we all know it.”

“I’ll be fine, Devon.”

“She’ll be hooked to me,” Seach said, shifting in the cramped space. He crouched awkwardly over Relo’s body, his taller frame pressed against the duct’s ceiling as he began strapping things to his former Captain. “Get the extra ALICE gear from your pack and give it to her.”

Devon started to shift, trying to shrug the pack off one shoulder, but the movement only squashed him up against Jo, who made a distinctly agonized sound. He froze, listening to her pant. “Mom?”

“Just … stay where you are,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’ll get it.”

She reached behind him and tugged the zipper, opening his pack. Devon ducked his head, hoping to give her better access, and waited. She smelled of stale sweat and blood and Devon felt the hair on the back of his neck raise.

She hadn’t denied her weakness.

He felt her rummaging through the pack and then she pulled away, dragging the ALICE gear out.

“Alright,” Seach said, nodding them back to business. “Dev, give me the hook on your gear. When I’m anchored, you start climbing. It’s a tight space and you’ll have Relo on your back so come at an angle from the corner. We don’t want you getting stuck.”

Devon pulled the hook from his belt, felt the familiar zip of coiled line feeding through the opening as Seach took it. Jorry fumbled with her gear for a moment and Devon could see the quake in her hands, the awkward angle of her right fingers, and ground his teeth together.

Those bastards.

Seach reached out and took the hook from her belt, silently attaching it to his own gear. Devon watched the two share a look and felt his chest squeeze tight.

They both thought they were going to die here. He could see it in their faces.

“Help her put her gear on,” Seach said and then moved to start climbing.

Devon had to crane his neck to see his father disappear up the shaft. Seach had left Relo in the center of the juncture, sprawled on his side with all the straps Devon would need already prepared. God only knew why they were saving that man. They had enough to worry about just getting Mom out of there.

“Go on,” Jo said.

“I have to help with your gear first.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “We’re not getting it on while sandwiched together like this. Move, Dev.”

He frowned, suddenly sheepish, and started to move. He pulled and shimmied his way into the open juncture, and half sat on Relo’s chest. Glancing up, he saw Seach making quick work of his climb, his boots disappearing over a ledge several feet up.

Jorry hissed a curse and Devon turned, remembering her gear, but she had already donned it. She yanked down on the fastening straps and he heard the hum of armor rumble through the vent. Then she paused and peered at her left palm, her face unreadable in the flicker of his flashlight.

“Time to move,” Seach’s voice came through the earpiece and Devon turned to Relo.

The straps were perfectly arranged for him, all looped and secured to Relo, who looked to be about the same height as Devon. And he was compact, Devon thought as he began attaching the straps to his own gear; all tight muscle and lean limbs.

Relo’s head lolled awkwardly just behind Devon’s right shoulder and for a minute he worried he might hurt the man further. But then he remembered all of the fighting and the fact that he’d nearly shot Jorry and ignored that fear. Nothing good would come of saving this man, he was sure of it.

Devon grabbed hold of his line, grunting as he took Relo’s weight, and started to climb. He kept himself at an angle, felt and heard Relo’s body press against the walls of the duct, but continued climbing. His arms and shoulders burned with strain, and his gloves only barely kept the line from rubbing his hands raw. Twice his boots slipped and he had to pause to avoid breaking his nose on the wall, but the line stopped him from falling and he was able to resume the climb.

Sweat trailed down his temple, curled around his scalp as he slowly made his way to the top. He reached the ledge and muscled his way over.

“Little help?” He half-grunted the words and then paused.

Seach was braced against the duct, back and feet pressed hard enough into the metal walls to dent them, and Devon could see the strain in his face. For half a heartbeat Devon stared, and then he hurried to drag Relo up, panting and grimacing as every muscle in his shoulders and arms screamed for release.

Of course his father would act as the anchor, he thought with annoyance; there was nothing else to hook their lines into.

If he’d known he would have tried to climb faster or something.

He collapsed onto the ledge, breathing hard. His arms felt wobbly, like the muscles had turned to mush, but he crawled through the duct, passing Seach so his father could help Jorry up.

Unhooking Relo from his back, Devon scooted further into the duct, angling his flashlight for a better view. He had no idea where they were in the building. The confusion of ducts angled every which direction and for a disconcerting moment he hoped Zoe knew how to read a map properly.

He heard movement and looked back at where Seach pulled Jorry over the ledge. Her face looked ashen and eerily blue in his flashlight and he could see the exhaustion in her eyes. Still, she crawled her way up to him, passing Relo with only the barest glance before she reached his side.

“All right,” she said, “Where to next?”

Heat and light exploded around them. Devon flinched and ducked as several bits of metal tore through the walls. An instant later Seach shouted for them to move and Devon heard gunfire; lots of gunfire. Stunned, Devon covered his head, his ears ringing and his heart hammering in his chest.

Jorry grabbed the strap of his gear and yanked him forward, dragging him through the duct.

Something sharp and hot pierced his side but he couldn’t stop to check it out. Jo kept going, hurrying through different ducts just to be cut off by another explosion.

Grenades, he thought; someone was using grenades on them.

He wanted to look back and make sure Seach was still there but his head was swimming. He blinked hard and shook his head but the little air duct swung, the taps on Jorry’s feet smearing in his vision. For half a second he feared he might throw up. Jorry’s grip on his shoulder strap kept him going, yanking him through the space with more strength than he’d given her credit for.

“Here!” Seach shouted.

Devon breathed in relief, heartened by the sound of his father’s voice. He heard the metal ping of bullets against the wall and turned in time to see Seach kick the side of the air duct wall. The metal broke open and Seach slipped out, pulling Relo with him.

“Go, go, go!” Jorry yelled, shoving at his shoulder now, pushing him back toward the hole Seach had made.

Devon slid and crawled, propelled by his mother’s urgent hands and the earsplitting cacophony of many weapons firing. He reached the hole and Seach grabbed him by the belt, hauling him out of the air duct and into a startlingly open barracks room.

Two sets of bunks lined the walls with footlockers perfectly set beside. The mattresses were folded and the place smelled faintly of cleaner, like it hadn’t been used in a while. Devon slumped down beside the broken wall and tried to catch his breath. Seach had Jorry, the two of them collapsing into the room just at his left.

At the far wall Devon could see the control panel for the door was already fried and couldn’t help the smile.

Damn his Dad was good at that.

Devon moved to get up but pain lanced through his side. He gasped and grabbed at his side, toppling into the side of the bunk. Confused, Devon lifted his shaking, blood-soaked hand and stared. He’d never seen that much blood before and for a dazed moment tried to think whose it was.

Then his mind snapped to work and he realized it was his own.

“Devon!” Jorry knelt beside him.

Dazed, he sat back as she ripped through his shirt and tore off his gear. She looked so frantic that his heart broke. Once she’d exposed the wound she sat back and scowled. Devon tried to look down at it but all he could see was blood. He could feel something foreign in him though and knew the problem.

Shrapnel had found the lucky spot between armor and joint in his gear and was now embedded in his side.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

Jorry met his eyes for a moment, her expression unsettlingly calm. He saw Seach in his peripheral vision but couldn’t look away. She leaned forward, took hold of whatever object was in his body and he felt his body burst to life. He made an anguished cry that sounded distant even to him and she yanked the bit out, tossing it over her shoulder before he could see. Then she went back to work, quickly binding the wound with medical supplies that Seach provided.

Devon tried to pay attention but his head was suddenly light, his mind centered on his side and whatever it was his mother was doing.

“S-sorry, Mom.”

She pulled back and met his eyes. “This is not your fault, son.”

“I’m … supposed to be … saving you.”

“Shut up and save your strength,” she said. “It’s not that bad, we just need to get you to Zephyr.”

Devon squinted at her. “I hate that I can’t tell when you’re lying.”

“You’ll figure it out one day,” she said with a smirk and a wink.

Devon chuckled, which sent another stab of pain piercing through his middle. He grimaced, closing his eyes to try and think of something other than what his mother was doing. Seach had handed her the med kit from his pocket and Devon knew what came next was going to be bad.

Quick sealing bandages were known for their high grade antiseptics and Devon didn’t need to see to know this wound was deep. He saw Jorry pull a wide, white strip from the med kit and tried to prepare himself for it. She looked him in the face and nodded at him.

Devon took a breath and nodded back. Then Jorry lifted her hand, replacing it with the bandage. It sizzled against his wound like hot oil in a pan and he shouted. Seach grabbed his shoulder, kept him steady, and Devon squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the burning to stop. An instant later the numbing agent took effect and he started to relax, the pain distancing itself with every breath he took.

“I need you to stay awake,” Jorry instructed.

Seach crouched beside them. He felt his father put a hand on his head and looked up at him. Seach still looked professional, capable, and that alone gave Devon hope.

“Look, Dad. It’s my first war wound.”

“Not a bad place to get hit, son.” Seach said. “My first bullet lodged itself in my shin.”

“That was a ricochet, it doesn’t count.” Jorry said, wiping her hand on his shirt. “And you whined for a week.”

“It chipped off a piece of bone,” Seach said defensively.

“And you used it as an excuse to stay in New Vegas for three days,” Jorry packed the med kit again and put it back in his pocket. “During which time you managed to sleep with four different women. One of which turned into a bit of a stalker.”

“Dad? You did that?” Devon asked. His voice was shaking. No, his entire body was shaking, but he tried to focus on the conversation instead.

His side burned every time he took a deep breath but at least he wasn’t going to pass out. Seach looked away from him, a faint pink blossoming on his high cheeks.

“Her name was Charpay and she had a thing about men in uniform,” Seach said at last, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She had a thing about you in uniform,” Jorry said. “Now give me the situation report before they laser through the door.”

Seach looked like he was about to argue but seemed to decide against it.

“If I’ve mapped it out right then we have twenty yards between us and the access door to Europa’s tubes,” Seach said. “They’ll undoubtedly have that door guarded. They can fit about fifteen men in a corridor. Probably sets of five in squad firing position for when the door opens.”

“They won’t risk coming in through the ducts to flank us. They’ll just wait us out,” Jorry said. “They figure they can shoot us well enough through the ducts.”

“We’ve got eight gas cans. Four regular grenades. Three galvanizers and four velocitors,” Seach said as he pulled one velocitor from his belt and passed it to Jorry. “I’m fully functional.”

Devon blinked heavily, his eyelids suddenly weighted.

He wondered why they said “functional” instead of just saying how they felt. It seemed so robotic to talk that way.

“My taps are still non-responsive,” Jorry said with a scowl. “But I can shoot and I can hack into whatever you need.”

“Can you run?” Seach asked and Devon could see his jaw flex, knew his father was fighting to stay calm.

“I’ll run,” Jo said, the determination in her voice settling on the room.

Devon tried to smile but his mouth wasn’t working. He rested his head against the bunk and closed his eyes, too tired to think. Blessed blackness enveloped him and he lost track of the conversation.