“We can rest here.”
Rhyx guided her into a small chamber, barely larger than the habitat room where they’d spent the night at Jeb and Mattie’s claim. The floor was relatively smooth, the walls curved in a way that suggested this had once been a bubble in cooling lava rather than a carved passage.
Alina sank down against one wall, her breathing ragged from exertion and fading adrenaline.
“Are they gone?”
“No. They’re searching the main cavern.” He settled beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. “But they won’t find the passage we used. It’s invisible to their equipment, and they don’t know to look for it.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I can feel them. Their confusion, their frustration. They expected to find something obvious—an entrance, a camp, evidence of habitation. What they found instead is a garden with no gardener.”
Alina was quiet for a moment.
“They’ll take samples. Study the plants. Eventually they’ll figure out what they’re capable of.”
“Perhaps. But they won’t find me. And they won’t find you.” He reached out in the darkness, found her hand, and laced his fingers through hers. “That is what matters most.”
“This can’t last forever, Rhyx. We can’t spend the rest of our lives hiding in tunnels.”
“No. But we don’t need forever. We only need enough time for your friends to help us escape this planet.” He paused, remembering something she’d said about Jeb’s contacts in the cyborg network, about ships that moved without attracting attention. “You said there were people who could help us disappear. Is that still true?”
“I think so. Zach was working on arrangements before I came to find you. But leaving Mars…” Her voice caught. “This is my home now, Rhyx. My work, my research, everything I’ve built—it’s all here.”
“Home is not a place.” He spoke softly, but with absolute certainty. “Home is the people you choose to share your life with. The bonds you build, the love you protect. Wherever we go, as long as we are together, that will be home.”
In the darkness, he heard her breath catch. Felt the slight tremble that ran through her body.
“You really believe that?”
“I know it.” He turned towards her, cupping her face in his hands even though neither of them could see clearly. “When I awoke in that cavern, I had nothing. No memory of who I was, no understanding of the world I’d awakened into. Everything I knew had been taken from me—my people, my planet, my very identity. I should have been lost. Broken. Driven mad by the weight of all that loss.”
“But you weren’t.”
“No. Because you were there.” He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent. “You gave me a reason to exist, Alina. A purpose beyond mere survival. You taught me that evenafter everything has been stripped away, it is still possible to build something new. Something beautiful.”
“Rhyx…”
“We will find a way,” he promised. “Together. Whatever challenges await us, whatever enemies pursue us—we will face them as one. This I swear to you.”
In the absolute darkness of the tunnel, far beneath the surface of a dying planet, Alina kissed him.
It was different from the kisses they’d shared before—less passionate, more tender, carrying a weight of emotion that went beyond simple desire. A promise, he realized. An answer to his oath.
Yes, the kiss seemed to say. Together. Whatever comes.
When they finally pulled apart, Rhyx could hear her heartbeat—steady now, the fear replaced by something calmer and more resolute.
“All right,” she said. “What’s our next move?”
“We wait. Let them finish their search above, let them conclude that whatever they were looking for isn’t here anymore. Then we find another way to the surface—somewhere far from the main cavern, somewhere they won’t be watching.”
“And after that?”
“After that, we go to your friends. We make plans.” He smiled in the darkness, though she couldn’t see it. “And we start our new life. Together.”
Alina leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her body gradually relaxing as the tension of their flight drained away.
