Tankbread 02 Immortal by Paul Mannering

loop in the rope and heaved herself up with one hand until the line to the harness went slack. She unclipped it, dropping barefooted onto the deck.
    “This way,” she said, slinging the harness over her shoulder.
    They wound their way down to the lower decks, Else following the engineer as she opened a door and they descended deeper into the ship. This area was marked differently from the hold where Hob and his people lived. The walls here were covered with schematics and scientific formulae.
    “The ones who remember teach those who haven’t yet learned. Then when they die, the ones who learned become those who remember,” Rache said.
    “If you let the crew eat your children, there will soon be no one left to learn,” Else replied. They carried on down the stairs until they passed the waterline and entered the deepest area of the ship.
    It was dark down here, darker than the night sky, always so full of stars. On the nights when clouds covered the moon, even the clouds seemed to glow with silver light. This was nothing like that. For a moment Else felt like she was descending once again into the depths of Woomera. She was plunged back to the place under the desert where the geeks hid from the evols and worked their genetic magic to make better weapons and zombie-killing Tankbread. So safe and perfectly contained—until the lights went out. Then the true darkness was suffocating. A darkness as complete and thick as velvet curtains stinking of burnt flowers pressed against her face.
    “You okay?” Rache said in the dark.
    “Dark,” Else managed.
    “Well yeah, lights are limited.”
    “Can’t . . . breathe.”
    A scratching sound came from somewhere below, a steady winding grind. A few seconds passed, with Else feeling a cloying panic pressing the air out of her lungs. Then a flare of sodium-yellow light cast long shadows up Rache’s dark face and made her eyes shine.
    “It’s okay,” she said calmly. “You’re safe down here.”
    “Don’t like being trapped in the dark,” Else gasped.
    Rache shrugged. “Follow me and the light will stay on.”
    Else pushed on down the stairs, following the moving circle of light. Rache stopped in front of a door, which she rapped on with the knuckles of one hand. Else felt her heart thudding; the close darkness terrified her.
    Claustrophobia is an irrational fear , she reminded herself . But it doesn’t make it any less real , she mentally retorted.
    The steel door ahead rang with the sudden strike of metal. Else growled a warning that Rache ignored. The door cracked open and then swung inwards. A warm glow emerged from the other side. Rache immediately pushed on it and stepped through the gap. “Almost home,” she said over her shoulder.
    Else followed the light. Behind the door and to one side of the corridor stood a young man, painted in black oil against the shadows. The whites of his eyes vanished when he blinked, rendering him almost invisible. Else watched him warily and kept moving after Rache. The girl ahead ignored the doorman and he watched them go before pushing the door shut in their wake.
    Rache walked with Else on her heels until they stepped onto a walkway that ran around a chamber as wide as the ship. Below them, pipes and domed machines were being crawled over by oil-stained figures as black as the shadows. The air hummed with the vibration of feet and the clang of tools striking metal.
    “The engines are always ready,” Rache said with pride in her voice.
    “Then why don’t you sail away?” Else asked again. Rache ignored her. A trio of blackened, tool-carrying mechanics came swaggering down the walkway. Like Rache, their heads were shaved and they did not smile as they approached the two women.
    “Hey Giz, Prop, Bolt, this is Else.” Rache crossed her arms, the goggles on her forehead glinting in the light.
    The three nodded. “She’s no black. What’s she doin’ down here?” Giz asked.
    “She’s from ashore. Came here looking for her