by Майк Берри
Once, while he stared into this debris-filled space, he imagined that he saw shapes within the chaos, patterns congealing out of the surface disorder, concentrations of shape that came and went, real then unreal again, almost teasing. He screwed his eyes shut, the cutter wedged against the rock-face, willing reality to resume its course. When he opened them again, the patterns had gone, if they had ever been there at all. Shards of stone spun, glittering in the crystalline beam of his light, dangerous but entirely material.
He returned to work, moving his harness point further into the face and yanking on the line to test it before restarting the plasma cutter. His whole body ached, everything from his skin right down to his bones. He considered taking a break — after all, who would ever know? But he decided against it, knowing that he’d never be able to make himself begin again. He wondered what the crazy dragon-man would do when they failed to find anything within the asteroid. Would he fry Carver’s brain until it killed him, just out of spite? Why not? How much time that gave him, he couldn’t guess, but he was aware that he was probably just accelerating the eventuality by his relentless pace of work. Still, what else could he do?
And so he cut, launched the chunks into the mass behind him, moved his rock-pin, cut again. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, his body aching all the time, wreathed in the steam of the cutter, possibly the single furthest human being from civilisation, alone at the frozen frontier of space, waiting for a crazy man who might never return.
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘What now?!’ bellowed Halman in response to the latest knock on his door. He threw his datasheet aside, grimly satisfied by the way it skipped off his desk, breaking one corner of its plastic case, and landed on the floor.
The door opened, slowly and haltingly, as the person outside turned the crank-handle in the access panel, the system that had replaced the now-defunct electrical one. Ella Kown was standing there, her posture somewhat defensive.
‘Is this a bad time?’ she asked, stepping cautiously inside anyway.
Halman squeezed his head in his large hands, exhaling heavily. ‘Of course it fucking is, Ella!’ he spat. ‘When have we ever had a worse time than this?’
Ella nodded diplomatically and approached his desk. ‘Can I sit down? I’m kinda beat.’
Halman indicated the chair opposite his. ‘Why not,’ he said.
Ella collapsed into the seat with a sigh. ‘So what’s the news?’ she asked.
‘Alphe and Fionne are working on the relay,’ he told her. When he’d left them, they’d had the entire floor up in the gennie room, and had both been crawling around within the bowels of the machinery, conversing heatedly in a technical language that was, to Halman, completely unfathomable. What was clear, even to him, was that the relay wasn’t the only thing to have been damaged. The turbines, which used steam from the reactor to actually generate electricity, had also been attacked. Halman wondered why Nik hadn’t sabotaged the reactor itself, if devastation had been his priority, but he was relieved that this hadn’t happened. Things could always — always — be worse. Although, when you thought about it, that wasn’t a whole lot of consolation.
Alphe had burned himself quite badly on some overheated conduit, but had refused to leave his work, dignifying Halman’s suggestion that he be replaced with the merest of grunted responses. Halman had decided that the most helpful thing he could do would be to leave, and this was what he’d done. He had returned to his office in a daze, walking through the newly-darkened interior of his station like a ghost, heated conversation, accusations and demands all around him, panic thrumming in the foul-tasting air itself. He had passed several rooms where helpful passers-by had stopped to release the occupants who had been trapped within by the failure of their automatic doors, and had somehow failed to understand or actually use the manual backup systems. Possibly, some of them had seized up, having never been required before. He was glad that the station’s builders had, for whatever reason, never got around to automating all of the doors on board, or just opening all the rooms could have turned into a major task.
‘Are they making any progress?’ Ella asked, managing a surprisingly casual tone.
‘I don’t know, Ella. Why don’t you ask them?’
‘You know who we could use right now?’
‘Yeah. Nik,’ he replied gruffly. Ella nodded in agreement. ‘The same son-of-a-bitch who apparently caused all this.’
‘Unbelievable, isn’t it?’ They sat for a moment, considering this. ‘What if they can’t fix it?’
Halman looked to the window of his office. A blizzard of stone hung suspended in the night out there. He wondered briefly how the pane was still powered, but then he remembered that the windows acted also as solar panels, generating enough electricity to run themselves. He reached out and turned it off. ‘They have to fix it,’ he said.
‘But what if they can’t?’
‘Well, then, the patched-up air system goes off when the battery dies, the Kays can’t fly, aeroponics stops, the water doesn’t run, or clean, the positioning jets stop, we lose gravity-effect, the heating goes off, and we die. As for how long we have. . .’ He spread his hands, and offered a single, humourless bark of laughter. ‘Ask Nik.’
‘Oh crap. . .’ Ella groaned.
‘How’s Eli?’ asked Halman abruptly, changing the subject.
‘He’s in medical, with one of my guys watching him. In shock, naturally. Devastated, from what Hobbes says. He’s sedated for the moment, so some small mercy there.’
‘What was he doing around the machine rooms anyway?’
‘He wasn’t really able to explain it to me earlier, and as I say, he’s out cold at the moment. He does, of course, have clearance to be down there if he wants. Going for a walk? Maybe he saw Nik and followed him up there.’
Halman huffed inconclusively, his moustache bristling. ‘I suppose so,’ he said at last.
‘You don’t suspect him of any wrongdoing, do you?’ asked Ella.
Halman looked at her from beneath knitted brows. ‘Don’t you?’ he replied. ‘Isn’t that your job? To be suspicious?’
Ella pursed her lips, considering this. At length, she said, ‘Dan, this is Eli. I don’t believe this went down in any way other than how he has described already. Nik’s prints were smudged together with Eli’s on the knife, suggesting that Eli did take the knife off him.’
‘Okay, so it’s inconceivable that Eli would blow up the relay then murder Nik. That’s a given.’ Ella nodded, attentive. ‘But. . .’ Halman raised a finger to emphasise his point. ‘It’s also inconceivable that Nik would blow the relay then try to kill Eli. I guess the whole fucking thing’s inconceivable. Yet here we are.’
‘Yeah, I have to agree with you there,’ said Ella, nodding her head grimly. ‘But in one respect, it makes a kind of sense. Nik certainly had the expertise to destroy the relay, sabotage Sal’s Kay, burn out the scrubbers, making it seem like regular wear-and-tear. . . and he knew how to fly a Kay.’ She sat back in her seat as if that explained everything.
Halman let this wash over him, trying to make sense of it. Inconceivable. That certainly did seem like the right term for it. ‘Shit, Ella, you really think he did all those things?’
‘I’m starting to. A lot of people have said he didn’t seem himself of late. They were saying that even before. You must have noticed.’
‘I thought he was just stressed. You know his head used to hurt him sometimes. Those Farsight shit-bags filled his skull with DNI rubbish at Platini. And remember, Nik fixed the scrubbers. Why would he do that if he broke them? And what do you mean, fly a Kay? What the hell has that got to do with it?’
‘Well, if we’ve had a saboteur on board, then I’m inclined to suspect foul play in the failure of our prodigal shuttle to show up.’
Halman started, sitting up straighter. ‘If somebody from here had intercepted it, then it’d be nearby somewhere, right? In the belt.’
‘Right. Somewhere on the flight
path from Platini to here, within range of our ships.’
‘I wish we could launch the damn Kays now, then we could look for it. That might just solve a lot of our problems in one stroke. I want to talk to the tech guys about diverting battery power to the hangar.’
‘Bit of a gamble, isn’t it, when we’ll have to choose between launching Kays and breathing air?’
Halman suddenly slammed one huge fist onto his desk, making Ella jump in her seat. ‘Shit!’ he cried — a word which seemed to fit the situation well.
‘One other thing. . .’ Ella said reluctantly.
Halman glowered at her. ‘What?’ he asked through clenched teeth.
‘Lina thought she saw somebody flying a ship into the belt, just after the clean-up of Sal’s. . . well, you know. . .’
‘And do you think she was right?’
Ella shrugged. ‘I asked the ground crew to check it out, but all the Kays were cool by then, and they said that honestly there’s no way they could be sure. It’s not hard to fake the launch logs if you know what you’re doing. The system was never designed to be secure, because nobody ever thought it necessary, I guess.’
‘Nik would have known how to do it,’ said Halman quietly. He felt about seventy-seven, rather than fifty-seven, all of a sudden. He passed a hand across his face, feeling the stubble where he hadn’t shaved, alarmed at how sunken and hollow his cheeks felt.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Ella.
‘For what it’s worth, Ella, I’m inclined to agree with you. I can’t imagine Eli being involved in all this. However, I still want him to remain in medical. And I want him properly tested under lie-detector, when you think he’s up to it. Just for the records, if nothing else. And keep him secure, of course.’
‘I think we need to be careful how we deal with Eli. He’s a much-loved figure here, especially with the mining staff. They’re already protesting his detainment, even in medical. People are pretty frightened, Dan. We’re sitting on a powder keg, essentially.’
‘Hmmm. . .’ said Halman, lost in his own thoughts again. ‘Anyway, we’ve bigger problems right now, haven’t we? Like how to eat, breathe and stay warm. Not to mention keeping the kinetic defence system going.’
Ella laughed, startling Halman, who gave her a confused look. ‘Sorry,’ she said, sobering. ‘It’s just all so unreal.’
‘Yeah, well it is bloody real, I’m afraid.’
‘Is there any way I or my team can help?’
‘You can try to prevent an outright mutiny, Officer — how about that?’
‘We’ll try, but no promises.’
‘How’re things in the prison?’
Ella shrugged again, as if this was the most minor of concerns. Halman supposed that, at the moment, it almost was. ‘Secure. But they’re pissed, of course. And frightened, like everyone else. This was never supposed to be a death sentence for any of them. But they’re locked down tight, and we intend to keep it that way.’
‘Good. Has the mess been cleared up properly? Nik, I mean.’
‘Yeah, medical dealt with it, under my direct supervision. The body’s on ice, but of course the freezer is now unpowered, so Hobbes’s team will have to examine it pretty quickly. I’d imagine he intends to do just that, but don’t hold out hopes of learning too much from it.’
‘No,’ agreed Halman darkly.
‘Anything else?’
‘Apart from keeping the drones away from the gennie rooms, I don’t think we can do anything else. Now, we wait and hope that maintenance can fix the power. Then we get out there and see if we can find that damn shuttle. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll live long enough for us both to take a day off, sometime in the distant future.’
Ella took a deep breath, sweeping a hand through her crew-cut hair. ‘Sounds like a plan,’ she said, rising from her seat.
‘Take care, Ella,’ he said as she turned to go.
She smiled. ‘You, too, Dan,’ she replied, and then she strode out through the still-open door and away into the crimson-hued twilight of the corridor outside.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘Be quiet!’ called Welby into the wall that divided his cell from Prisoner Fuller’s. He didn’t have to shout for his words to take effect — the banging stopped immediately. ‘Do you really think that’s going to make any difference?’
It was almost pitch-dark in the prison, now, the scattered emergency lights casting an even dimmer glow here than elsewhere in the station. They were ranged along the roof of the corridor that ran past the cells, spaced every fifteen metres or so, glowing faintly like dying coals. Little was visible besides the lights themselves, so weak was the illumination they offered. Welby thought they looked like eyes in the darkness.
He relaxed against the wall once more, trying to make himself comfortable on the prison mattress, which was little thicker or more luxurious than a sheet. He didn’t mind his new regime of hardship, really — he had earned it, he knew, by his actions. Neither did he regret those actions. Circumstance had chosen him as a weapon of vengeance. So be it.
Fuller’s voice came wheedling through the wall, much smaller and weaker than the sound of his banging had been: ‘We’re gonna die in here, Welby. I know it.’
Welby inhaled deeply, filling his small chest with the tainted air, letting it go in a contented sigh. ‘Then we die here, in the cradle of the Old Ones. Perhaps by our proximity to one of their worlds, our spirits shall know salvation in the next life. What better place than here, in one of their systems. We all have to die, my friend.’ Attentive silence from next door. ‘Many of us have even served as tools of death ourselves, in our lives before. Death: ha! Easy come, easy go, I say.’ He laced his hands behind his head, and shut his eyes. He felt like a nap. Nearby in the station, somebody was screaming what sounded like frightened orders. The tipping point was close at hand, he knew. He felt it, even from his cell — felt it in the vibrations of the air, in his bones and in his heart. Well, whatever. Let them panic, let them die — him included, if need be. Easy come, easy go.
‘I suppose so. . .’ said Fuller’s voice faintly. There was a pause, during which Welby heard someone crying further up the corridor. ‘I’m just scared, I guess.’
Welby imagined Fuller sitting in there on his own bunk, a small and nervous-looking man with a bald spot ringed by fluffy brown hair, whom Welby had always found it somewhat difficult to like. Maybe Fuller’s dodgy heart was finally about to give up the ghost. Still, he was one of the faithful, and as such, was Welby’s responsibility. ‘It is all right to be scared, Prisoner Fuller. Those who came before are watching us, judging us. This is their system, and what happens here happens in accordance with their wishes. Don’t you feel it? This is their very cradle. Trust in their wisdom, lest they return and find you wanting.’
‘You really think all this — whatever’s going wrong here — is their doing?’ asked the voice from behind the wall.
‘I trust that it is so. Perhaps they are punishing the owners of this facility for their treatment of us. Perhaps they don’t want us to be trapped here.’ Welby would have liked Fuller to shut up now. He really did feel sleepy. Funny, because he hadn’t so much as walked a hundred metres all day, but it seemed that the less he did, the more tired he felt of late.
‘Maybe they mean to free us,’ said Fuller, a note of hungry longing creeping into his voice.
‘Maybe they do,’ agreed Welby, lying down and trying to get comfortable. He certainly hoped so. It would be good to have a word, up close and personal, with that snooty bitch, Officer Kown. But he was happy to wait and see. He turned over onto his side — that was better. ‘Go to sleep, Prisoner Fuller, and we’ll see what happens next.’
‘I’ll try,’ said Fuller. That excited note remained in his voice, though. ‘I sure would like to be out of this cell, Welby.’
‘Of course,’ said Welby drily. ‘Now go to sleep.’
Mercifully, Fuller didn’t speak any further. Welby drifted slowly into the peaceful, dre
amless sleep of the just, safe in the knowledge that the Old Ones had a plan. They were not done with him yet. It was not his destiny to rot here in this cell. He knew it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‘No, he’s sleeping, but that isn’t the point, Lina.’
‘Look, Jayce, I just want to see that he’s okay.’
‘He is okay, but Hobbes says he isn’t to be disturbed.’ Jayce managed to bristle, tensing his armoured body without actually moving.
Lina looked around herself, then leant towards him secretively. ‘Hobbes isn’t here,’ she said.
Jayce hesitated slightly, managing to convey uncertainty even from behind his featureless facemask. ‘No. . .’ he said. ‘But–’
‘I’ll be a few minutes max, all right? His friends will want to know that he’s okay. I want to know that he’s okay.’
‘Ella didn’t specifically tell me not to let anyone in. . .’ said Jayce, relaxing from his guard-standing-at-attention posture. He craned his head to check the medical room’s wall-clock, but of course it had stopped. He looked like some futuristic machine, made from polished ebony, but Lina knew that beneath that exterior he was at least ninety-percent idiot. She supposed Ella had been desperate, to have left him here in charge.
‘Well then, that’s settled,’ said Lina decisively. ‘Thanks, Jayce!’
He stammered something that she didn’t catch, but she was already past him and into the red-lit dimness of the medical department, looking through the open doors of the treatment bays. She thought perhaps he would follow her, but he didn’t.
The first room was empty. The second contained one of the medical techs, bent over some shiny piece of equipment, doing something precise-looking that took all of her attention. Lina moved on without the tech seeing her. The third room, just round the corner, contained Eli. She slipped inside as silently as she could, feeling illicit and slightly wired. The foul taste in her mouth had become ubiquitous now, an ever-present reminder of how bad things had become, like the taste of failure itself.