by Samuel Best
“Sora-jū,” said Niku gravely.
“What does that mean?”
He looked up at the clouds. “Sky Beast.”
“I hope I never see this beast of sky,” said Ivan.
They came across two more pieces of wreckage, each the size of a small house, and each one scarring the land where it fell, scraping long, black trenches in the ground.
“Kellan said there was no significant animal life detected on the surface,” said Niku as the group walked between the two pieces of debris. “Nothing larger than a teddy bear.”
“Then he’s either a liar,” said Merritt, “or very bad at his job.”
“I imagine he told you he got his information from surface scans while the Halcyon was in orbit,” Henry said.
“That’s right.”
Henry smiled knowingly. “The Halcyon held a prograde orbit on each visit to Galena. How can one scan the surface of an entire planet if their ship is following its rotation?”
“He did say to avoid the oceans,” Niku admitted.
“With good cause, as it turns out,” said Henry. “I’m grateful not to have witnessed that scene on the shore. I’m sorry you all can’t say the same.”
“Do you smell that?” Merritt asked, sniffing the air.
He stopped near a tree trunk as he looked ahead. The others stood next to him, welcoming a break from their steady march.
“Metal and fire,” said Ivan.
“Some kind of chemical,” Niku added.
“Fuel?” asked Henry.
“No,” Merritt said, taking another few steps. “Coolant. From the engines.”
“I thought we were walking toward the front of the ship,” said Niku.
“I thought so, too.” Merritt walked ahead, moving quickly. “If you see blue liquid on anything, don’t touch it or you’ll lose your hand.”
Fire had scorched the back sides of the trees, charring them black. The ones on the outskirts of the primary crash site still had all three large, naked branches at their very tops, bent like elbows to point at the sky.
As Merritt and the others walked through a progressively apocalyptic landscape, the branches were burnt down to small nubs, then the trees themselves shrank in size as the charring intensified.
Soon the group walked through a field of smoking stumps, stopping at the precipice of an impact crater which sank like a canyon into the ground. The broken husk of the front half of the Halcyon lay scattered over a mile in each direction within the canyon.
Directly in front of them was the bell-shaped housing of one massive hybrid antimatter engine, lying on its side, half its shell crumpled beneath it, the other half arcing majestically through the air like an industrial amphitheater.
Glistening blue liquid painted its exterior and the ground all around it, dripping from the vaulted, bell-shaped housing and oozing into a lake within its open mouth.
“One of the engines broke away from the back of the ship,” said Merritt. “Don’t go near it.”
“Can it blow up?” Ivan asked warily.
Merritt began the descent into the crater, half-sliding down a dirt ramp thick with clumped soil and loose rock.
“Probably not,” he said. “But I wouldn’t light a match.”
Behind the engine lay a long section of the ship. Merritt guessed it was equivalent to roughly one-fifth of its entire length, from the torn middle of the vessel moving forward toward the nose. It had broken into wide chunks that leaned against each other at different angles, like a skyscraper that had fallen on its side but managed not to collapse on itself.
“Why did we crash?” Henry asked as he, Niku, and Ivan followed Merritt down into the crater.
“I think a faulty radiation deflector panel protecting the inner hull broke free and damaged the engines,” Merritt replied.
“Why wasn’t it fixed?” asked Niku.
“Anyone would have died before getting close. Radiation from the Rip flooded the lattice chamber, probably through the hole created by the loose panel.”
“Why didn’t the captain notice something was wrong?”
“I don’t know why. My supervisor tried to tell him.”
Merritt felt a pang of regret when he thought of Willef, and of the people he was leading to the officer escape pods at the front of the ship while it was breaking apart.
“But even if there was a problem,” he continued, “there’s no way to perform maintenance on the engines while they’re active.”
“Hubris and faulty equipment,” mused Henry. “Same old story, again and again.”
His foot slipped out from under him and he fell on his back. He slid down the dirt ramp, fingers clawing at the loose soil.
Merritt caught his forearm and nearly fell over himself as he stopped the older man’s slide.
Henry climbed to his feet slowly, breathing hard.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He turned to face the sprawling wreckage. “What are we looking for down there?”
“Food,” said Ivan quickly.
“For starters,” Merritt agreed. “Keep your eyes peeled for an orange box about the size of a large suitcase. The shell is supposed to be blast-proof, but in this case…” He gestured at the ruins of the ship and shrugged.
“The black box is orange?” asked Henry.
“It’s a crazy world,” said Niku, walking past him, deeper into the crater.
After five minutes of continuous descent, the bottom of the crater began to level out.
The first piece of debris to greet them at the bottom of the dirt ramp was a broken escape pod, crumpled in on itself like a squashed aluminum can.
Merritt and the others stood beside it, staring at the folds of metal which had once been a smooth exterior.
“It launched too late,” he said.
“There are more,” Henry told the group, pointing.
What Merritt had thought was a scattering of ship debris was actually a sprawling field of crashed escape pods — pods that had launched from their bays just before the front half of the ship made impact.
“These would be the officer pods at the front of the ship,” said Niku.
“Best not to look,” Henry said, swallowing hard. “They are still…occupied.”
Merritt walked through the field of pods, which stuck up from the ground like tombstones in a graveyard.
“Food!” Ivan said.
He ran past Merritt to a large, half-crushed yellow container that had spilled its contents across the blackened ground. Ivan tore open one of the small silvery bags scattered nearby and emptied the contents into his mouth. He chewed, then spat his mouthful onto the dry ground with a look of disgust. After a moment, he smacked his lips thoughtfully, shrugged, and opened another pack.
“Dry onion,” he told the others.
“Hooray,” said Niku without excitement as he knelt down next to Ivan and opened a pack. He chewed on it, then said, “Garlic. Blech.”
“Great,” said Merritt, looking around. “We found the spices.”
Niku opened another packet. “I knew they were holding out on us. One pack of this would have stopped my stomach from cramping at every meal.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Henry offered. “Yet another reason to ride out the voyage in a hypergel tank.”
“We should get moving,” said Merritt.
“We need to eat,” Niku countered, “or we won’t have enough energy to keep walking.”
“There has to be something more substantial over there,” Merritt said, pointing at the biggest section of wreckage.
The others stayed near the spice packets, mixing and matching their contents in their mouths until their cheeks bulged.
“Parsley and beef bouillon,” said Henry. “I need water.”
Someone moaned in pain nearby. Everyone fell silent and stopped chewing as they looked at each other.
Merritt turned around, looking toward the ship’s remains. A lone escape pod lay on the ground twen
ty meters away, a massive chunk ripped out of its hatch and side. Merritt could just barely make out the ghost-white fingers of a passenger through the jagged hole.
The passenger moaned again.
“They’re still alive,” said Merritt, and broke into a run, boots pounding the charred ground.
He stumbled to a halt next to the pod.
“I’m here!” he said loudly.
The hatch was cracked down the middle from a previous impact. A portion of one lower corner had been torn away, revealing the bloody legs of its occupant. Merritt pulled the cuffs of his coveralls over his palms and grabbed the broken edge of the hatch. It protested with a loud squeal as he tried to leverage it away from the pod.
Niku appeared at his side. He had slipped his sleeves-turned-shoes over his hands and gripped the jagged hatch, helping to lift.
Metal screamed against metal, and with a loud crunch, the hatch popped free and fell to the burnt ground.
“Willef!” said Merritt.
The foreman lay within his escape pod, bruised and bleeding from a dozen wounds, shaking in his soaked coveralls.
Yet he wasn’t shaking from fear, or shock, Merritt noticed. He was crying, his sobs sending deep tremors through his body.
Merritt bent into the pod and grabbed one of Willef’s arms. He draped it around his own neck and hoisted the foreman from the pod. Willef howled in pain as Merritt set him on the ground and leaned his back against the battered pod.
The foreman made no attempt to wipe away the tears that flowed down his rough cheeks.
“I—” he said between sobs. “I shouldn’t—”
“Time for that later,” said Niku, resting his hand on Willef’s shoulder.
He moved down to the foreman’s legs, checking his wounds. He prodded a particularly deep laceration on his upper left thigh.
“Wiggle your toes and fingers,” said Niku.
Willef did.
“Good. You’ll have to walk.”
The foreman sniffed loudly, then nodded, his jowls quivering.
Merritt walked past the pod, shielding his eyes from the sun to look at the sprawling wreckage of the Halcyon.
“We need to look for more survivors, then find a black box,” he said.
“I’ll check the other pods,” said Niku as he walked away.
Willef struggled to glance over his shoulder, but gave up and slumped back against his escape pod. “Tell me what you see,” he said.
“Looks like a good chunk of midship to forward,” Merritt replied.
“How long is it?”
“I’d say…fifth of a mile?”
“Open at both ends?”
“Yes. Torn to pieces.”
Willef nodded. He winced in pain, and said, “You can’t…can’t go at it from the side. The hull plates soaked up too many rads going through the Rip. They’re designed to hold on to it until we negate the absorption, but now…who knows? Even going in from an open side could expose you.”
“Fatal?” asked Merritt.
Willef attempted a shrug. “Depends how long you hang around.”
“How many black boxes were on the ship?”
“Fifteen. This section would have seven or eight of them. Most were near the bridge.”
“Even if there was no radiation,” said Merritt, “I doubt any of us could climb up six inner hulls to get to the passenger section.”
“Where’s he going?” Willef asked weakly, nodding in the direction of the ship.
Merritt turned around, squinting into the sun. Ivan was running toward the wreckage.
“Ivan!” he shouted. “Hey, IVAN!”
Ivan ignored him, running full-speed toward the remains of the Halcyon.
Merritt ran after him. His toe caught a chunk of metal and he fell face-first on the hard ground, scraping his cheek and jaw. He pushed himself up, spat dirt, and ran on.
Ivan was quick. He changed course, angling for the nearest open end of the ship, off to his right. Merritt was already panting from exhaustion by the time Ivan disappeared around the jagged wall of the torn hull.
Merritt gave the wreckage a wider berth, circling around to the open side at a distance of about ten meters. He wasn’t sure if that would make a difference, but it felt better in the moment.
Ivan was already a few meters off the ground, scrambling expertly up the wreckage.
The protective inner hulls had pancaked into each other. The outermost hull had vanished into the crater, pushed below the surface under the weight of the bulk above it. The other six hulls were layered on top of it like crumpled striations in a rock cliff.
“No radiation burn!” Ivan shouted down. “Is okay!”
He grabbed a hanging wire, thick as a rope. Merritt’s palms started to sweat as Ivan put all his weight on it without testing it first, swinging away from the ship by pushing off with his legs, then quickly climbing up the wire. He hoisted himself into the open passenger section at the core of the wreckage, thirty meters off the ground. Then he turned around to face Merritt, and took a bow.
The floor shifted under his feet and he almost stumbled off the ship, into midair. He caught himself at the last second, all hints of amusement gone from his face.
“What I look for?” he shouted down.
Merritt cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “That looks like Deck 4. Look for a wall panel with a big red handle and lots of warning stickers.”
“Then what?”
“Orange suitcase with a hard shell.”
Ivan nodded nervously, clearly less confident after almost falling out of the ship. He gave Merritt a shaky thumb’s up and vanished into the Halcyon.
Merritt turned back to look at the others. Willef seemed to be dozing while Niku poked around the nearby wreckage, perhaps searching for medical supplies.
Metal groaned behind Merritt. He whipped around as a slight tremor coursed through the ground beneath his boots. One side of the outer hull sagged noticeably lower before his eyes, dropping several meters.
“Hurry up, Ivan!” he yelled.
The entire ground beneath the Halcyon shifted as the hull dipped lower. Ivan suddenly appeared above, his head peeking out from the open end of Deck 4.
He smiled and held up a bulky orange suitcase with a hard shell.
Merritt grinned. “I’m coming up to help!” he shouted.
Ivan tossed the suitcase out of the ship. It tumbled through the air and hit the ground on its corner, spinning end over end until it crashed against the side of a large chunk of debris.
Merritt ran over to it while Ivan scaled the open end of the ship, climbing down as quickly as he’d ascended.
Without waiting, Merritt popped the latches and opened the scarred orange lid. Niku walked over, leaving Willef to his nap.
Half of the suitcase’s interior was a data screen, the other half a control bank with dials and switches.
The screen was blank. The black box gave no indication of power.
Niku reached past Merritt and pushed a tiny black button at the top of the screen. A small green light flicked on its center.
“We used a similar system to track dig sites at some Egyptian ruins when I was in college,” said Niku.
“I thought you were a microbiologist.”
Niku shrugged. “I went where the girls took me in those days.”
A yellow light glowed to life near the right edge of the screen.
“That’s us,” said Niku, pointing at the green light. He pointed at the yellow. “That’s the colony’s nav beacon.”
“Is that east?”
“Yes.”
Merritt turned to look in that direction, at the two looming mountains in the distance.
“That’s where the sun came up.”
“More or less,” Niku agreed. “If the black box is reading their nav beacon correctly, that means the farmland south of the colony site is beyond those mountains.”
“Even if we don’t make for the beacon directly,” said Merritt, �
��we’ll still find it.”
“Exactly.”
“What are the rest of these controls?”
Niku fiddled with a dial. “Part of it’s a radio.”
Merritt looked at him in disbelief. “We could call the colony?”
“If they have their system set up to receive, which they probably do given the circumstances.”
“Hey!” Ivan yelled down from the side of the ship. “What’s happening?”
“How do we call?” asked Merritt.
Niku flipped a small metal switch and a high-pitch squeal emanated from the box, then faded. He tapped the yellow dot on the display screen, then tapped a few more buttons that popped up with each choice he made.
“Hit that square green button,” he said.
Merritt did, and static burst from a small speaker near the screen.
Niku gestured at him to go ahead.
“Come in, colony site,” he said uncertainly. “This is, um…we’re survivors from the Halcyon. We crashed near the ocean, and…is anyone there?”
He waited a long moment while static popped from the black box.
“There are four of us,” Merritt continued. “We’re making for a mountain pass to our east, headed your direction. If anyone is listening, one of us is injured and needs medical attention. And if…and if you see my son, Gavin Alder, please tell him his father is alive. Please tell him I’ll…” Merritt swallowed hard, his eyes welling with tears. “Please tell him I’ll be there soon.”
“Hey there, farmer,” said a familiar voice on the other end of the line.
“Tull—Tulliver?” Merritt asked, looking at Niku, then back to the black box. “How did you…is my son there?”
“Don’t you worry about him,” said Tulliver easily. “He’s got old Tully on his side. Can’t say the same for you.”
“What?” Merritt asked hopelessly.
“This is a hard enough place for a boy…even without his daddy leavin’ him.”
“I didn’t leave him!” Merritt shouted.
“Well,” Tulliver said thoughtfully, “he’s never gonna know that.”
Static popped, and the line went dead.
“What’s going on?” asked Merritt.
The colony’s yellow nav beacon blipped out of existence.