Burnt Worlds

by S. J. Madill

  “Is everyone’s camera on?” she asked. “We’re recording everything, right?”

  Helmets nodded in silent reply.

  “Borealis, you getting all this?”

  There was a moment’s silence, long enough to make Atwell begin to wonder.

  “We are, Lieutenant,” said the Captain. She was thankful for how reassuring he sounded.

  The shuttle continued to move across the underside of the alien ship, matching the slow tumbling rotation of the massive cylinder. Inside the passenger compartment of the shuttle, six suited people stood at the hatch, peering out and upwards, studying the torn and ripped underside of the ship. Its massive metal rings were pushed back, bent, pressed together in some places and pulled apart in others, leaving small gaps between the layers.

  “Well,” said someone, “we can tell how old it is.”

  Ring after ring went by overhead, rows of tortured and jagged metal teeth sliding past. Atwell felt her neck begin to cramp from craning upward.

  “Is that the middle?” said Lee.

  The rings were smaller here, their curvature easily visible. “There,” said one of the crewmembers, pointing.

  Smaller and tighter rings lay ahead and slightly to their right, where the innermost layers were wrapped around each other. The central ring was a thick metal tube, its walls two metres thick, with a small hollow gap in the centre. The centre ring was pulled outward and away, the metal stretched and sheared, leaving only a small puckered metal maw at its centre, surrounded by a lip of sharp, black metal.

  “Hawk, see that?” she asked. “Get us there.”

  “Hawk here, we see it. Will do.”

  The shuttle altered its course slightly, sliding sideways until it was directly underneath the central opening. With a tiny jerk, the small craft rotated until its open side hatch faced up at the bottom of the alien ship, the jagged edges of the central hole less than a metre from the crewmembers who stood in the shuttle and stared at it. As the alien ship and the shuttle slowly rotated and orbited together, the changing angle of the incoming starlight caused the shadows of the twisted metal to twist and bend around them. Atwell found it slightly disorienting, and focused on the nearest edge of the alien ship, a sharp spike of metal within arm’s reach in front of her.

  “I’m…,” she hesitated, “I’m going to touch it. Let me know if it does anything.” A quick flurry of acknowledgements came through the comm channels.

  Slowly, she reached out her gloved hand, lightly touching the oily-looking metal of the alien ship. Nothing happened, and she noticed her own surprise. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it had probably involved fear and panic.

  “So,” said one of the crewmembers behind her. “No kaboom?”

  “No kaboom today,” said one of the others. “Maybe kaboom tomorrow.”

  “That does it,” said Lee. “You two shut the fuck up, or so help me…”

  “Shutting up.”

  Atwell leaned in closer, examining the hole in the centre of the thick metal tube. Activating the flashlight in her suit’s wrist, she shone it in the hole and looked. The same dark metal surfaces lined the inside of the tube, the narrow shaft stretching far off into the distance - upwards, inside the alien ship - as far as they could see.

  “So,” said Atwell. “These things have an inside. Let’s go see who’s home. Hawk, turn off the gravity back here, please.”

  “Roger that.”

  Atwell, Lee and the crew held tightly on to the handrails as their feet lifted off the shuttle’s deck and they began to float in space, inside the shuttle. Several of them put their hands out to steady each other.

  She started to think about what she was doing, then realised that thinking was the sort of thing she shouldn’t be doing just now. Pulling herself forward by the handrail, she let go and floated toward the opening in the underside of the alien ship. She carefully guided herself past the sharp edges of metal, and passed neatly into the metre-wide shaft.

  The white light from her wrist-lamp shone ahead of her, bouncing off the glistening sheen of the sides of the tube. Using her fingertips against the walls, she gently guided herself forward, further inside the alien vessel. Before long, additional lights followed her as the crewmembers entered the tube, casting wild, sharp shadows on the walls of the passage.

  Her comm system beeped anxiously at her. Allowing herself to float unguided up the shaft, she glanced at her wrist display. “Lee,” she said. “I’ve lost comms channels to Borealis and the shuttle. This thing must be blocking us.”

  “Same here, sir.”

  “Okay,” she said, watching the oily wall slide slowly by as she thought. “Whoever’s at the back, stay at the opening, so we can keep a relay open.”

  “That would be me, sir,” said Lee. “Too close in here to pass anyone, so I’ll head back to where we came in. I’ll make sure the feeds are good.”

  “Okay, thank you Lee.”

  Atwell looked down behind her, at the bobbing lights of the crewmembers coming up after her. Tilting her head the other way, she could see the tunnel continue ahead of them for as far as her light could reach. The black wall slid by only a few inches in front of her mask, and the back of her suit periodically bumped against the wall behind her. “I hope no one’s claustrophobic,” she muttered.

  Movement was smooth and effortless; she only needed the occasional push of fingertips on the walls to keep herself moving smoothly up the shaft.

  “Twenty-five metres,” said Lee. “I’m communicating with the ship, and our data is all coming through fine. All except yours, sir. Your comms okay?”

  The Lieutenant glanced at her wrist, and made a face inside her mask. “It’s complaining about needing to reboot. I’m not touching it. I don’t want anything else to crap out.”

  “Understood, sir. I’ll tell Borealis.”

  Atwell peered ahead of her, up the tunnel. She was floating forward at a steady pace, her fingers guiding her forward. The crewmembers behind her seemed to have found a smooth rhythm of their own.

  “Will we stop before we reach the other end?” asked someone.

  “Okay,” said Atwell, a smirk on her lips, “which one of you is that?”

  “It’s me, sir,” came the voice again. “Amoroso.”

  “Okay then, Amoroso. You let us know when we’ve come out the other end. It’s only, what, a hundred and fifty metres away. I’m sure we won’t miss it.”

  “You’re now eighty metres in, sir,” said Lee far behind them.

  “Okay, thank you. I think we should send Amoroso ahead to—”

  Atwell trailed off as the light from her wrist suddenly shone into blackness ahead; ten metres ahead of her, the walls abruptly disappeared into darkness.

  “Whoa,” she said. “The walls ahead end… no, wait, the shaft suddenly widens. Let’s slow up a bit, people.”

  Pressing her hands against the walls of the shaft, Atwell slowed herself to a stop just before the widening of the tunnel. The metre-wide passage doubled in diameter, creating a narrow ledge all around the shaft. The walls, still the same oily black, continued for ten or so metres above them, then narrowed again and continued up into the distance.

  “Huh,” said Atwell, gently pushing herself into the larger chamber. As she floated up toward the ceiling of the chamber, the other crewmembers floated up behind her.

  “Anyone see anything interesting? Like an ‘on’ switch or something?”

  “Or the gift shop?” offered Amoroso.

  The five of them looked around the room as they floated about. One of them held himself in place by pressing his hands and feet against opposite walls of the chamber.

  “Nothing, huh,” said Atwell.

  “Sir,” suggested Amoroso, “want me to try the scanner?”

  Atwell shrugged inside her suit. “Sure, go ahead.”

  Bright white light from the crewmembers’ wrist lights played around the chamber as they explored its featureless walls and the ceiling w
here the metre-wide shaft continued upward. Crazy shadows, distorted silhouettes of them in their suits, danced on the walls around them. One of them briefly flickered a light blue colour.

  “Hey,” said someone. “Since when does the scanner light up blue?”

  “What?” asked Amoroso. “I haven’t turned it on yet.”

  “Huh?” responded the other crewmember, as the sky-blue light flickered across the chamber once again. “Stop that, Amoroso.”

  “It’s not me,” he protested. A moment’s silence, as the blue light played across the chamber again. “Oh, fuck.”

  37

  Atwell’s blood ran cold as tons of lead seemed to appear in the pit of her stomach. “Okay, team. Time to go. Now.”

  As she pushed against the ceiling to propel herself downward, the blue light flickered over her.

  The flickering stopped, and a single beam of strong blue light burst out of the nearest wall, lighting up her left shoulder. As she pivoted, the source of the light beam raced around the wall of the chamber, keeping her left shoulder illuminated in its sky-blue light.

  “Shit!” she yelled. “It’s found us. Time to go, damn it!”

  As the crewmember nearest the bottom launched himself down the tube the way they had come, the entire chamber lit up with a brilliant blue glow. The walls, mere moments ago a featureless black, now came to life with columns of rapidly-scrolling blue symbols, flowing up the walls from bottom to top.

  Next to the symbols, a diagram appeared, showing a twisted helical ladder of dots that rotated and scrolled up the walls alongside the symbols.

  “Oh, God help us, that’s DNA,” gasped Atwell.

  As she propelled herself downward toward the entrance, she suddenly slammed into the chamber’s wall, and stayed there.

  Shoving to get up on all fours on the wall, she saw the other crewmembers up against the same side of the chamber, also trying to get up.

  Lee’s voice burst into her helmet. “This ship is moving! You heard the boss, it’s time to leave! Now!”

  Atwell finally got herself up on all fours, and began crawling down the wall of the chamber. The other crew were crawling ahead of her, two of them half-dragging one of the team who moved awkwardly, as if groggy or concussed.

  Catching up to the crewman in front of her, she paused, forcing herself to calm her mind enough to think. They were all thrown against one wall, which meant the ship had begun to accelerate. They were still being pressed against the same wall, so the ship was continuing to accelerate at a more-or-less constant rate, and at a more-or-less constant heading.

  “Move your ass, Amoroso,” she barked. “Lee, where we headed?”

  “Not sure, sir. Looks like we’re leaving orbit. The shuttle is standing off and keeping pace. Borealis is getting underway to follow.” Lee paused. “I’ve got the Captain on another channel… he would like us to get the fuck out of here, sir.”

  “Roger that, Lee. Goddamn it, let’s go, people!”

  She swung her hand to swat at Amoroso’s posterior in front of her, but he started to crawl rapidly away. Ahead, the other crewmembers were crawling single-file into the entrance shaft, scrabbling along on all fours as they picked up their pace. The one who had been groggy — she wasn’t sure which one it was — seemed better and was now scuttling on ahead.

  As Atwell entered the shaft, she stumbled on the slick metal. A quick shove and she was up on all fours and moving again, but the going seemed more difficult. The sides of the tunnel were smooth and it was hard to get traction, and staying up on her hands and knees was taking more effort. Ahead, she could see the lights of the crew bobbing as they moved, also stumbling occasionally.

  Amoroso took a quick look over his shoulder. “You good back there, sir?” His breathing sounded heavy.

  “Yeah,” she gulped. “But this is starting to be a lot like work.”

  Lee’s voice came through her helmet again. “Acceleration rate climbing, sir. Borealis says we’re up to one point six gees and climbing.”

  “That explains the workout,” she said. “Ask them where we’re headed.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” said Lee. His voice dropped out as he changed channels.

  As her breath began to get louder inside her mask, she continued to crawl onward. Up ahead, she thought she could see the light from Lee’s suit.

  His voice popped back into her ears. “Sir, Borealis plots this ship’s current movement. We’re headed for the sun. A few hours away at this rate, but still—”

  “The sun? Holy shit. C’mon, people,” she said, her voice laboured. “Let’s get off this thing before we fry. Lee, can you see us?”

  “Aye, sir. Another twenty metres or so, sir.”

  “Outstanding,” she breathed. Stumbling again, she picked herself back up with some difficulty, and focused on moving carefully and steadily along the pipe. She could hear the breathing of the other crewmembers ahead of her as they struggled along, grunting occasionally as they slipped or fell forward.

  “Keep moving, you lot,” said Lee. “We’re up to two gees now, this thing is in a real hurry to cook itself. Come on, come on!”

  Atwell was panting now, her breaths filling her ears. Her mask had begun to steam up.

  “C-cold,” said someone up ahead.

  “Who was that?” barked Lee. “Speak up!”

  “P-Perkins,” came the panting voice.

  “Okay, Perky,” said Lee, his voice more soothing. “You’re almost here. Schmidt, you’re in front, I see Perkins behind you. When you get to me, stop and check his heater.”

  “Aye aye,” said a new voice, tired and weak.

  Amoroso’s head turned back again to glance at Atwell, who silently nodded. The sounds of panting crewmembers, punctuated by grunts and curses, filled their speakers. Their suit lights bobbed weakly up and down as they plodded ahead. The Lieutenant kept focused on Amoroso’s shuffling boots ahead of her; when he suddenly stopped, she nearly ran into him. Stopping on all fours, she panted loudly. “We there?” she croaked.

  “Well done, everyone,” said Lee. “Schmidt, you look like hell. Turn around and check Perkins’ suit before he freezes.”

  Atwell’s chest heaved inside her suit as she tried to gulp down enough breath to talk. “Everyone… tie off to each other,” she wheezed.

  “Aye aye, sir,” said Lee. “Good idea. Here, Schmidt, here’s my line… tie it off, then feed your line to Perkins, and on back with the rest of you. Perky, you good, or you a popsicle?”

  “F-fucking c-cold.”

  “Okay, Schmidt, tie him off. Perky, pop the chem heater pads in your breastplate. Schmidt, make sure he gets them popped.”

  Ahead of her, Atwell saw Amoroso accept a line from the crewmember ahead of him, which he clipped onto a loop on his belt. In turn, he unreeled a cable from his belt and handed the end of it back to her.

  “Good,” she said, clipping the cable onto her belt. “Lee, we’re all tied together.” She took a few deep breaths. “Shuttle and Borealis nearby?”

  “Yes, sir. Both standing by. Hawk says they’re watching us and are ready to pick us up once we’re clear.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Okay.” A few more deep breaths. She forced herself to not think too much about what she was doing. “Everyone, beacons on.”

  Brilliant white and red lights began to flash from the helmets of the crew, filling the cramped tunnel with blinding pulses of light. Atwell breathed out and continued. “We’re all going to slide out the end nice and smooth. Try to push, so you can get away from the underside of the ship; mind those sharp edges. Stay together, keep your cool, and remember this is why you joined the Navy.” She paused. “Everyone ready?”

  “Ready, aye ready,” they said together.

  “Okay,” said Atwell. “Lee, you go on your own count.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” he said. “On three. One, two… three!”

  Lee threw himself out the opening of the passage, floating away from the ship. Almost immediately he
began to float astern of the opening, pulling his cable tight.

  Behind him, Schmidt quickly scrambled to the edge of the hole and pushed himself out into nothingness. As fast as they could, the crewmembers ahead of Atwell crawled and scrambled toward the opening. The crewmember behind Perkins stumbled as he exited, floating astern and pulling on the cable. Amoroso began to slide forward in the hole, Atwell behind him, the two being pulled by the cables that tied them together.

  Picking up speed, Amoroso slid out the hole, shouting something unintelligible as he went. Atwell began to slide faster and faster toward the entrance. Amoroso had floated out of sight astern, and the cable that joined them was pulled tight, rubbing on the edge of the hole as it drew her near.

  Unable to slow herself, she launched from the entrance, flying away from the massive ship. Her line snagged and went tight, swinging her around in a graceful arc until she could see the jagged underside of the ship fast approaching. She reflexively put out a hand to slow herself, but it was no use. She slammed into the twisted metal of the ship’s underside, her breath forced from her as her suit gave an ominous loud crunch. Her head swung forward, smacking her mask onto the glistening oily metal. There was a sharp creaking sound, and her ears popped.

  As she floated away from the ship’s surface, watching it move away, her left leg erupted in agony. She ignored it, focusing instead on the crack that had appeared in her mask, inches in front of her face. Bringing up her hand, she clamped it over her visor, pushing on it until the angry hissing sound in her helmet began to subside.

  “Ah, God damn it,” she grunted. “Everyone okay?”

  No answer. She looked at the communications console on her wrist; the display was dark.

  As the stars tumbled around her, and she felt a tug on the line, she kept poking at the display with her other hand. Nothing happened, and as she began to give up on it, she noticed a tiny red ball float by. A single drop of the most beautiful red, formed into a sphere, bubbling slightly as it gently moved through her field of view.

  Bending awkwardly to look down, she saw a deep gash in her suit, through which were dribbling perfect little red drops of blood. She clamped her free hand over the gash, as the pain finally hit her. She cried out, the sound deafening within her helmet.