Galen glared at the stairs, feeling both desperate and hopeful. He really had no idea where they would lead. He had picked the door leading to this room since his sensors had revealed it was much higher than the others. From that, he had deduced it contained an elevator shaft or a staircase. He had very much hoped it would be the former. Nevertheless, he was quite certain that these stairs would lead them out of this place. The club would probably be empty, except for an army of Drazi guards waiting for them. He hoped they'd be able to slip through them unnoticed, without needing to fight at all.

Galen picked his staff up from the floor, and used both it and the wall to prop himself up. The pain and dizziness struck him again, so bad he had to close his eyes and lean on the wall with all his weight.

Matthew was eyeing him with open concern. "You really up to this, Galen?"

"Not really – but that's irrelevant. We have to go."

"I'll help as much as I can. You concentrate on those shields, and I'll take care of walking."

There was only so much Matthew could do. He could support most of Galen's weight, but he could hardly carry him, so Galen still had to take all those steps himself, each single stair. There were so many. The first stretch, he counted one hundred of them. Then there was a landing where they stopped for a while. All he wanted to do was to let himself collapse on the floor and lay there, forget all about the spells and the stairs. And because of that, he didn't even dare sit down.

They had actually been lucky so far. They had met no guards. None at all. It was strange, but he certainly wouldn't complain. He could already hear the voices of those working on the door downstairs. Soon they would get through and come after them. No time to rest. He grabbed Matthew's arm, indicating they should continue.

As they climbed on, slowly, awkwardly and painfully, Galen found himself thinking that though he didn't believe there was a hell, if there actually was one, it might be just like this. He was breathing fire, agony flared through his chest with each quick gulp of air he took. He could hardly hear anything except for the frantic pounding of his heart. A red-black haze was obscuring his vision, and he had to switch to his sensors so he could see at all. They still worked, since the tech hadn't been directly harmed.

Loud sounds from downstairs cut into his private inferno. The guards had finally got through the door.

As Matthew and Galen reached another landing, Matthew said aloud what Galen was thinking. "We could just stop here and wait quitely in the corner, the guards'll probably pass us by."

Galen was too winded to answer. He let go of Matthew and sank to the floor. And then he felt it again. Something was blocking his airway, he was suffocating, he was drowning, once again, and he had no choice but to cough until it came out, although it tore him apart from the inside, breaking whatever little good his organelles had managed to do. As he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, couldn't concentrate to keep up the shields. One by one, they flickered away, leaving them both visible.

The metallic, echoing sound of the guards running up the stairs was getting closer. And Galen was looking bad. Gideon hated himself for what he had to do, but nevertheless knelt closer and grabbed Galen's shoulder.

"Galen, you've got to concentrate. Pull yourself together. Get those shields back. Otherwise we'll have no chance at all of ever making it out of here," he hissed, hoping the guards wouldn't hear – though surely they had heard that horrible cough already.

Galen looked straight into his eyes, showing he understood and did his best. Then his eyes closed, face twisted with either tight focus or pain. His hands clenched into fists. And when the guards came around a corner in the stairs, into full view of them, the shields went up. They were invisible again.

Nevertheless, the guards had caught an idea of where they were – they had seen a flash of something, had heard their sounds. They started firing ahead randomly, trying to hit at least something. Hiding from them was out of the question. They would just have to keep going. Gideon felt Galen struggling to get up, searching for his support. The guards were hitting them already, but nothing came through, only the feeling of something heavy splashing against them.

They were on the stairs again, continuing their way up. Gideon could hear Galen gasping desperately, could feel his chest heaving against him. And they were moving too slowly. Gideon was getting exhausted himself, though he wasn't nearly as badly injured. Actually, he had figured that when Galen had cured the poison, many of the other bruises from the earlier battles had been healed as well. But he was hardly in top shape, and basically carrying two people up the stairs was tiring him quickly. The guards kept shooting, though now they didn't hit quite as often, since their target was moving, and they couldn't see it properly. And Galen's shielding was holding again, showing no sign of giving in.

They reached another landing, and like the two they had seen before, this one didn't have any doors either. Gideon had a hunch that this wasn't a regular staircase at all, not one used every day, but more of an emergency escape route from that deep-down complex to another place above it.

Galen had stopped, though he had to know as well as Gideon did that they couldn't afford to do that. They had no time to rest, the guards were right on their heels, moving much faster than them.

"Matthew -" Galen wheezed. "We're not – going to – make it – this way – take my hand – get ready – to shoot -"

Gideon had no idea what Galen was planning, but he took up the modified plasma rifle and loaded it, pointing it at the rapidly approaching guards.

Then they were floating in the air again, and Gideon could guess what Galen was about to do. He reached for Galen's hand with his left hand, and with the gun in his right, started firing away at the guards. Their shields disappeared again, but they were flying, rushing up the stairs without touching them, leaving the Drazi behind.

Gideon hit a few of the guards, but now that they no longer had any shields, the guards could get through as well. A bolt of searing plasma struck his right leg, and he would've fallen, had he not been holding on to Galen's hand.

Finally, they went around a corner, leaving the guards so far their weapons couldn't reach them anymore.

"How bad?" Galen asked. Their speed was slowing down.

Gideon bit his teeth and tried to sound unconcerned. "Burns a bit, but I don't think it's serious. Keep going. We've got to be almost there."

Almost there, Matthew said. Galen hoped he was right. He was again back in Elric's training hall. Today, they were doing flying platforms. The spell for the platform itself wasn't complicated, nor was the one needed for setting it in motion. The difficulty laid in keeping it steady enough for anyone to stay on it. Particularly when there was someone else beside him. Elric. Matthew. Someone who must to stay on the platform. Everything depended on it. Keep up the speed, keep up the shape of the platform, keep it steady. Keep going.

He had given up on trying to stand, and Matthew had joined him soon, trying to keep his face calm and collected, though Galen knew that he had his share of pain too. A plasma bolt to the leg. Dangerous only if it was deep enough to cause significant blood loss, hit an artery, or if left untreated and then infected. And, in their situation, very much more dangerous in it that it would keep Matthew from walking normally. They were both crippled, now, and they still weren't out of here. That was why they would not walk, and Galen had to keep up the platform. Never think of anything else. Keep going.

The sounds of the guards had almost died away, they were so far below them now. And unless Galen was completely wrong, they had already passed the level of the Red 'Zirja Nights, the main level of the burrowed corridors of the city. Another turn around a corner, and suddenly, the walls changed. They were no longer of the same, silvery grey metal that most of the complex had been. They were red rock, tunnels cut into the planet. They were getting closer to the surface, and there were no doors anywhere to be seen. Keep up the speed. Almost there.

"Control. Concentration. Focus," Elric was saying to him. "Without these, you will always fail."

As often before, Galen wondered whether Elric was not asking too much of him. Asking the impossible. But Elric never did that, and if he failed, it would be his fault alone, not Elric's. So he had to try his best. He would not fail, though he could hardly breathe anymore, could hardly see where he was going.

"Galen! Galen, you can let go now," Elric was telling him. He let go, the platform dissolved, and they fell to the floor.

"...and it's locked, of course. How about that key card you have, would it work on this door too?"

Why would Elric say that? It made no sense. It wasn't Elric, after all, who was talking to him. He was getting delirious. It was Matthew asking the questions. They were fleeing. Galen groped in his pocket for the card, found it, and handed it over. The door slid open, and Matthew pulled them through it.

They were in a hall, or rather, a hangar, a landing bay large enough for one medium-sized ship. And they had arrived just in time to prove how that one ship, a Streib vessel, left through the forcefield-covered opening in one of the walls.