by Brett Bam
Dalys and Lutho limped down the road until they came to the airport. There was a line of large structures, all locked tight with no windows. At the end of the street the train station dominated the intersection. Dalys went inside and set down on a bench. Lutho was still in severe shock, trembling uncontrollably. The moment she put him down he curled into a foetal position and started crying. She forced him to drink some water and then stood to look around. The place was purely utilitarian, plain and functional, a simple roof over a holding area next to a raised platform for the trains. The whole area was surrounded by well tended grass, and off to one side of the clearing was a small shed. Dalys ran over the grass, very aware of how she was stepping in the heavy gravity, slowing as she got to the shed. It was closed, but when she tried the door it slipped open smoothly. A tractorbot squatted in the centre of the space. Hanging on the walls around it were portable utilities for the machine to do its varied work. It was a simple machine, an ancient combustion engine controlled by a sophisticated ECM mounted on top. It had four sturdy wheels and a big rotary blade underneath. Dalys looked at it and saw salvation.
Within two hours she had stripped the tractorbot down to its bare essentials. The ECM had been fried, but the engine was unaffected. She reconnected the throttle, clutch and brake, and rigged a steering system. It was crude, but when she tried, the motor started, and she managed to drive it out of the shed and across the clearing. She pulled up next to Lutho and hauled him on to the little robot, which creaked in protest. They were exposed to the air, naked to the elements without restraints, in seats perched high above the spinning wheels. It was awkward and precarious, but still Dalys got the little engine up to 100 kilometres an hour. It was one of the most exhilarating things she had ever done. The speed felt tremendous this near to the ground, and she had to put her glasses on again just to deal with the wind shear. She turned towards the stricken city and accelerated, heading instinctively for civilisation. The road was long and straight, pointing directly at the city. It looked like a disaster scene and Dalys wondered if this was the right decision.
She slowed and stopped on a small rise with the city filling the sky above them. They were close now and the true scale of the devastation was evident. The whole city was burning; smoke and flame came from everywhere. Dalys watched an endless splatter of heavy machinery, landing platforms and defunct flyers falling to the ground. If they got much closer she would have to worry about debris from the sky. For miles in all directions spot fires burned and smoky columns wound their way spacewards. Dalys sat in her seat, watching the death of the magnificent edifice, wondering what to do next. If this was happening here, what was happening up on Earth Harbour? Dalys looked to the north but could not see any sign of it through the darkening sky.
Suddenly all the traffic surging around the city stilled and then streamed together and regained some semblance of order. The traffic thickened and flowed in one direction and the lights throughout the city flickered on and then increased in brightness. The surge of power kicked off hundreds of smaller explosions and three big ones. Whatever was happening now was tremendous. As she watched, every vessel still flying darted inwards to the centre of the tree like a shoal of fish darting into a reef for protection. Dalys watched, confused.
Something shot out of the sky like a comet and slammed into the branches of the city. It ricocheted off a main branch and powered out of the maelstrom on a long curving trajectory. With dawning fright Dalys realised it would crash near to them. And it did, close enough to feel the shock of it through the little robot. It sprayed dirt from the impact before lifting off the ground and starting a fast, dangerous spin, then hit the ground again and began to come apart, shedding pieces of itself and somersaulting to a stop amidst fire, smoke and settling dust. It was only a couple of hundred metres away.
Dalys started the motor and left the road, aiming for the crash site, maybe the wreck would have communication gear of some sort. She could call Jack Mac and get off this dirtball before the rain came. She pulled up next to the mess just as the wind shifted and blew the smoke from the crash in their direction. It swamped them, blotting out the light, thick and choking. Dalys covered her face with her sleeve and looked at Lutho, who was coughing uncontrollably. The smoke lifted above their heads as the wind shifted again, leaving them bathed in a strange dim twilight.
“Are you alright?”
Lutho simply nodded at her, his eyes wide. Dalys looked in the direction of the crash but couldn’t see anything. She had inhaled a great gout of hot smoke and coughed out the filth, gasping for clean air. Her eyes watered horribly, leaving streaks in the dirt on her face.
Lutho started to squirm and Dalys grabbed him to stop him from falling. “He’s here! He’s here! Let me go!”
The panic in his voice frightened Dalys. “Who’s here? What’s going on?”
“The Kulen De Sol is here, he’s loose!”
Dalys let go of Lutho and watched as he fell to the ground and then scrabbled away on all fours, heedless of shredded elbows and knees.
She turned and looked at the crash site again, and watched in amazement as a man walked out of the thick smoke. Dalys realised with horror that he was a survivor. People had been on the ship! The man was covered in grime so deep it was black, and he cradled a child in his arms. He was limping badly and Dalys could see there was blood stained his chin and neck as if he’d coughed it up. She rushed forward and just managed to catch the stricken man and prevent him from falling to the ground. He was burned horribly and bleeding freely from many open wounds. She slowly lowered him and helped him lie down, aghast at the ruin of flesh. He had a rattle in his chest and blood in his mouth. Dalys gingerly felt the mans chest and almost recoiled in horror as she felt the soft mass of shattered tissue the left side of his ribcage had become.
“You, are from another world.”
The man’s voice was deep and solid and rumbled horribly.
“Who are you?” she replied, awestruck.
“I am Marcos and this is my son. He is... Kulen… De Sol. I am so tired. Can you help us?”
This was no android, or automaton. This man was flesh and blood and as real as her. He was human.
“Of course I'll help you. You just lie still, help will come soon.”
Marcos coughed and more blood flowed onto his chin.
“No! No help will come this way. They are trying to take my son. You must help us get away, please, help us. They will kill us all.”
Then he collapsed on the ground, scraping his cheek on the dirt. A puff of air disturbed a small cloud of dirt as he landed. Dalys stared at the man, shocked. He was some sort of fugitive! Escaped in the chaos? What if he was in some way responsible for this chaos?
The boy crouched wretchedly in the dirt, his grime streaked face appallingly thin and emaciated. Dalys saw none of the danger or awesome presence Marcos had. All she saw was a scared and hurt little boy whose father was injured and dying. His big blue eyes looked up at her with a helpless vulnerability that choked her worse than the smoke.
“It’s too late. Here they come.” whispered Marcos.
The tortured air above them brightened as booster rockets pierced the smoke veil, and slowed the fall of an incoming craft. It was a monstrous machine, all dripping oil and smeared black metal, grinding as it worked. Eight reticulated limbs spread from a central body, each one segmented. It was clasping the booster pack with its eight limbs, and as it reached ground it unwrapped itself in a bizarre ballet of swinging metallic arms. Its body was heavily armoured and Dalys recognised a sensor suite which sat on top of a nasty looking weapons array. It thrust itself toward them, blinking and shifting, turrets spinning and loading. The terrifying military aspect of the machine alarmed Dalys. This was clearly a weapons unit. Why would it be the first thing to be deployed to this crash site? In all this chaos, this was what the military was responding to?
Dalys thought quickly. She was required to wear a special badge marking her as a tourist.
It contained vital details about her identity. She knew there was more to the badge than she could see, it was a heavy and would be packed with circuitry. The Protocol had her under guide and knew exactly where she was at any given moment. She was allowed to be here and she needed help in an emergency. Never mind what the man said, this machine would do. They needed help and medical attention for Lutho Val Max as well. She called to the machine.
“Over here! Man down! We need medical assistance.”
The machine ran toward them, covering the ground at an alarming rate. It stopped just in front of Marcos and focused on him, its mechanisms whining. Dalys was more than a little intimidated by its size and aggression. Marcos first sat and then managed to rise to his knees before his strength seemed to fail him and he clutched a hand to his chest. his face twisted in agony. The machine focused on the boy and something slid out of a cavity. It looked like a gun barrel. Marcos managed to crawl between them, he raised his fist and shook it.
“You will not have him. He will be free of you.”
Something on the sensor suite clicked and turned. The sensation Dalys had was of a gun being cocked. The barrel puffed and Marcos’ head disintegrated in a splash of red tissue. Dalys jumped with fright. She activated her defence field automatically. The soft whine as it powered up gave her a flush of adrenaline and stilled the rising fear. It might not stop something from this machine but it would help. She sprinted towards the boy, but the robot was too fast for her. It shoved a limb at her, swatting her aside. The field flickered blackly at the impact and a spark of blue light earthed against the machine. She was sent rolling on the ground, unhurt in her field, but she felt three concussions in quick succession slam against her, she was under ballistics fire! The field held. The robot scooped the little helpless boy up in a sharp metallic claw, cutting him badly. He screamed horribly, Dalys had never heard such a chilling sound. The machine was still moving. It rotated the weapons array to a more devastating blaster, one that might punch through her field. She made a desperate decision and triggered the jump icon on her belt buckle. The field coiled like an obsidian spring beneath her and then released, lightning striking out as she was sent flying up and above the machine. The weapons array was fast and it tracked her in an arc. It fired but missed. The field was hanging under her in a long, limp, grey thread. Dalys felt the heat of the bullet’s passage as she fell towards the machine’s metallic carapace. She toggled another icon which forced the field into a sharp black blade beneath her. The tortured field let out a shrill whistle as its molecules were compressed. She thrust down with all the strength in her legs, adding to the inertia of the magnetically shaped blade. It sliced cleanly through the machine and Dalys felt the field slap over her again protectively as the monstrous robot fell into pieces, in a dramatic shower of hot embers and gaseous emissions. She stood up amongst the wreckage, the field slithering around her like dark fog flickering with blue sparks. The thing was dead, she had cut through a bank of batteries. She deactivated the field and rushed to the boy who had fallen clear. She gently examined him, wincing at his injuries.
“Hold on lad, we’ll soon have you somewhere safe and warm. Just come with me.”
Dalys Xristian offered her hand to Kulen De Sol. Later, when she thought about this moment, she almost regretted not turning her back on the boy and leaving him to the machine.
Chapter 11
The Ribbontail
Oscar De Jaager was immersed in the Ribbontail’s control system, trying to reset the parameters of the computer to suit his personal profiles. The Ribbontail had served all across the solar system in a variety of duties, from cargo transport to passenger carrier, its rich history had collected several different operating systems and data collection programs. Oscar was attempting to write a management program for all the different systems and improve the interface times. It was tedious work and he was quickly becoming bored. He tapped the console and four small pictures swam into view. The first image showed Jack Mac outside, working on the hull casing. A red light flashed as he performed small welds and sprays on the hull, an endless task. The second was of Berea hip deep in the hydraulic mechanism in the base of the dissipater fans. Internal wiring splayed out of the hole she was in and spilled out around her. Curtis was in the cargo bay supervising a mechanoid cleaning operation. The tiny spinning robots she controlled buzzed all over every surface making things sparkle. Moabi was helping Jack Mac; he was covered in a large amount of hardening foam and was laughing heartily while trying to brush it off.
Oscar’s comm beeped and he slid his data glasses down from on top of his head and perched them on the end of his nose. He caught a lanky strand of hair in the glasses and had to take two seconds to tug it free. He leaned back in his g-couch and propped his feet on his console. He answered the communications flash.
“Get your friggin' feet off the console.” rumbled Jack Mac angrily.
“Oops, sorry.” He sat bolt upright and the glasses nearly slid off his face. He caught them on his bottom lip and quickly replaced them.
“When you've got your own gods awful console you can put your feet up on it. That one belongs to the captain, have some respect.”
“Okay, stay calm. Feet are down.”
“You know, I find that other people’s bad habits are easy to break.” There was a moment of tense silence and Oscar rolled his eyes.
“Berea needs a hand on the dissipater connections. If she keeps working alone it’ll take ages to finish. Hustle up there.”
“Sure thing Jack Mac, I'm on my way.”
Oscar walked across the RHS, enjoying the temporary feel of gravity they gained in port. He stepped through the dilated portal and into the corridor. He walked down the corridor that ran down the spine of the superstructure towards the stern, crossing several junctions, portals to other modules which were dilated shut. He reached the gaping window in the hatchway on the small observation deck that looked out over the dissipater fans and the ships engines. He could see Berea working hard to re-couple all the data crystal sheets into the dissipater fan driver. The task that would take both of them the better part of the day.
He suited up in the airlock, staring at the oxylik with trepidation. The tight-fitting exposure suit slid over his clothing neatly. It gathered in the crooks of his knees and elbows. By the time he climbed out of the suit it would have rubbed him red in those spots, something he hated. The seals moulded into each other smoothly sealing him from the vacuum. He removed his data glasses, took a breath and slipped the helmet over his head with the faceplate open. When he had it settled, he took a breath and closed the faceplate. It fitted neatly across his nose, and he opened his mouth to take the small soft nipple into his mouth, he couldn’t breathe with the faceplate down. He squirted a data blip at his glasses and they mated to the suit as a remote sensor, giving him access to all his software. He put on a little music as he worked, then ran a diagnostic check on the exposure suit’s functions and communications. Finally satisfied he opened the faceplate and exhaled. He picked up his thrust pack and strapped himself into the harness. It was a small unit with a compressed bottle of expellant that rested on his back. As he slid his arms into the control rods and interfaced them with his suit, he eyed the oxylik again.
He hated this part. The small squat bottle with its inhaler nozzle always scared him a little, no matter how many times he used it. Finally, when he had completed his safety checks and delayed the moment as much as he could, he picked up the inhaler. He took five deep breaths and exhaled his lungs fully each time until he felt the first buzz of hyperventilation. Then he exhaled until he thought his lungs would implode.
His mind flashed back to the first time he had done this, Moabi had said, “Best get it done, quick as you can.” then he'd winked and....
Oscar paralleled his memory of Moabi, putting put the inhaler in his mouth at the same time his memory of Moabi did and inhaled deeply, staying calm, just as Moabi had.
The oxylik flooded his mouth and swe
pt into his lungs under a compression that was timed just short of forceful. Before Oscar had a chance to gag, it was already at work in his lungs. The liquid was super-oxygenated and transferred life-giving molecules to his blood directly the same way air would have, except without the complications of compressed air. He was breathing liquid, it was thick and each breath took some effort. Oscar waited a full ten seconds until he was sure his lungs were full and then removed the inhaler and clipped his faceplate shut, sealing his mouth and his nose. He let his breath go and felt the warm liquid flow into his nose, ears and sinuses, through the mouthpiece to the small chamber beyond. He could now hold his breath for anything up to ten hours, the oxylik providing a supply of oxygen to his body while absorbing the poisonous build up of carbon dioxide in his tissue mass. He inhaled and exhaled and the small chamber in front of his mouth filled and emptied, giving him the false feeling of breathing. It felt weird and thick but it was better than actually holding your breath. He settled himself into a long slow breathing pattern the way he’d been taught.
Oscar toggled the airlock door and waited patiently for the air to cycle out, exposing him to naked vacuum. He clipped his safety line to the clasp next to Berea’s and swung out onto the bulkhead ladder. He was outside the ship.
The view was dazzling. The Ribbontail was docked to Earth Harbour and undergoing the last of her vacuum tests for the hull casing. She was moored in a docking slip near the rim, facing space. When Oscar looked up, he saw the bristling business that was the outside of the harbour. Docking spindles sparkled, while ships of all sizes navigated near space. Green, red and white lights flashed everywhere. The Ribbontail’s grappling platform was folded and stored, its long appendages dangling neatly beneath the superstructure and the clustered life modules. The acceleration helix and dissipater fans lay idle. The spin of the Harbour made climbing the hull down to where Berea was working a hefty task. She'd spotted the flood of light from his open airlock and turned to watch his descent. His lights illuminated her work area in the shadow of the fans and she raised an arm to block the brightness. Oscar tilted the lights away from her and apologised with a wave. She gave him a thumbs up and turned back to work. From this height it looked like she'd jumped into a puddle and the large splash had simply frozen in space.