by C. W Tickner
The Hoarder slid smoothly under a card table, rolled back to his feet, and then sprinted past the side booths as Troy, spotting the action, casually stuck a foot out to trip him. The Hoarder tumbled into another roll just as Screw lobbed a weighty spanner. It cracked him on the back of the head and left him sprawled on the floor.
‘Should have worn a helmet,’ Screw said, tugging aside the Hoarder’s thick, black cloak to reveal the multitude of hand sewn pockets and pouches covering the wiry body. He probed his fingers under the copper plate on the Hoarder’s shoulder as if something might be hidden beneath, then turned the man over. Damen grabbed the Hoarder’s pale ankles, pinning the cloth-wrapped feet to the floor as the Hoarder shook his head, moaned, and hissed at them.
‘I didn’t steal the seeds,’ he said, his voice raspy as he struggled against the two men.
Harl was ready to block the way out if he overpowered them and Troy stood on the other side.
‘I found them,’ the Hoarder moaned, stuffing a hand into one of the many pouches on his belt. He drew out a soggy bag and let it fall to the floor.
‘I don’t care about bloody seeds,’ Screw said. ‘Just tell us where to find an object and you’re free to go.’
The Hoarder ceased struggling.
‘An object?’ he said, raising an eyebrow. It caused his dirty goggles to skew, which revealed the clean skin underneath. ‘A treasure?’
‘A pipe,’ Screw said.
The lenses of the Hoarder’s goggles contracted, whirring as his eyes roved about inside.
‘A metre long,’ Screw said, ‘straight, made from a copper based alloy.’
‘Diameter?’ the Hoarder asked.
‘Thirty seven centimetres.’
‘If I tell you, I’m free to go?’ the Hoarder asked as Screw let up pressure on his shoulders.
‘Yes, and you can keep the seeds,’ Screw said, stuffing the packet back into a leathery compartment on the Hoarder’s belt.
The Hoarder sat up and pulled his cloak around him.
‘Deck four,’ he said. ‘Through lower storage C, a stack of crates beside a sleep bed.’
As the Hoarder finished the sentence, he leapt up and squeezed past Harl before he could react, and then raced out the door.
‘Odd,’ Screw said, watching Turpin shove furniture aside as he yelled at the four of them to get out. ‘I didn’t think there were any living quarters down there.’
‘Slippery cowards, aren’t they?’ Damen said, scratching the tip of the scar that ran from his right eye down behind his beard.
‘You wouldn’t want to be chased by one of ‘em,’ Screw said. ‘Believe me, they’re deadly suckers. They’d have your shirt off your back and on theirs before you bled out. The only reason that one ran was because we’re in the living area. It would be a different story down in storage at the back of the ship.’
Harl wasn’t looking forward to an encounter with a wild Hoarder. He just hoped that they could avoid them in such a large vessel.
‘Is it far away?’ Harl asked.
‘Bout a far as you can go,’ Screw said. ‘Never been that deep into those levels. Could be anything down there.’
‘Good,’ Damen said, cracking his knuckles. ‘I could do with a bit of sport.’
Chapter 7
We have reached the science deck and finally have access to our computer terminals. It seems we have arrived at a planet that the ship’s computer deemed habitable enough to intercept, and we are now in orbit.
Harl crammed into the small, octagonal room that lay outside the atmosphere controlled area where the majority or Orbital’s people lived. It was one of several rooms that led deeper into the ship and was mainly used to store equipment for any missions further into the bowels of the great ship. Four heavy steel doors led off in different directions. They were painted white and each one had a small square window at head height, blurred by a lifetime of scratches and grazes. Thick suits were hung on hooks around the wall and battered plastic chests were overflowing with a mixture of packets, bags and small devices.
The white walls looked scratched and dented, and lacked the moisture capturing sheets present in the rest of the living zone. Harl plugged his finger into an ancient burn hole beside one of the suits and wondered when fighting had broken out on the ship.
‘Here,’ Screw said, hefting a patched suit off its hook and slinging it at Kane, who was almost knocked back by the weight.
Harl lifted his own from a hook. The suit had a waxy sheen and a steel mesh was lain over the top like fine chainmail to give the wearer an extra layer of protection.
The four of them watched as Kane struggled into the strange, tattered suit, then laughed as he lost his balance and fell against one of the four doors in the octagonal room.
‘Are these really necessary?’ Kane asked as he climbed back to his feet.
‘If a meteoroid hits and we de-pressurize,’ Screw said, ‘you’ll be glad of it.’
His own suit looked more durable than their worn and dusty counterparts. Covered in dials and small compartments, it held the armoury of tools his regular jacket had. Spanners and wrenches were clipped to his arms and all across his chest. It was a wonder he could move at all.
‘You’re not looking to impress any women you find then, Kane?’ Troy said, leaning against the open doorway that led back to the living zone. He was the only one not wearing a suit.
‘He’s never heard of that species,’ Damen said, his voice muffling as he tested the automatic helmet. It swished up from the back of the neck and then down over his head, clicking as it enclosed his face in a clear bubble and squishing his beard up, before retracting. He grunted and strapped a bandoleer of magazines across his broad chest.
‘The ones with red hair he has,’ Troy said. ‘I’ll tell her all about it when you go.’
‘Mind your own business, Troy,’ Kane said. ‘At least I’m being useful. And yes, I have known women, just not harlots. Perhaps you should be joining us instead of mocking?’
‘I’ve secured a job on the farm deck,’ Troy said, ‘so I’m unable to join your little treasure hunt.’
‘And it’s not because of a woman?’ Harl said, joining in at Troy’s expense.
‘They need my help,’ Troy said, crossing his arms and lifting his chin. ‘I’ve got a lot of experience working on farms and after that little foray in the Cormorant, I thought I’d offer my services. Being useful is decidedly better than being drunk. Possibly.’
‘Jenny is looking for you,’ a female voice said from behind Troy, making him whip around. ‘Something about you promising to help on the farm deck?’
Tess was standing in the doorway, inspecting her nails casually as Troy flushed bright red.
‘Er, yeah,’ he said, slipping past her as Harl joined in the laughter from the room.
Tess stepped inside. She was holding a selection of small duffle bags in both hands and slung one to each of them in turn.
‘Food, water and basic medical supplies,’ she said. ‘Sorry there’s no weapons. They’re being kept under lock and key by Turpin and he’s insisting security are the only ones who can use them properly.’ She looked at Damen as he palmed a clip into his favourite rifle. ‘But I can see you brought your own. You’ll be fine.’ She glanced at Kane. ‘I’m sure you can take care of yourselves.’
Harl touched the pistol in its holster on his belt and then adjusted the new melting sword that was strapped across his back. He didn’t know how easy it would be to wield in the restricting clothing, but he felt better with it on him.
Marlin stepped in behind Tess and eyed them each in turn. He nodded in satisfaction.
‘I just wanted to wish you good luck, and to let you know that the incident with the Hoarder is being dealt with. Turpin agrees it was dangerous to have one so near to civilisation and assures me that the trade with the Hoarder in question has been useful in gathering needed medical supplies.’
‘Rubbish,’ Tess said. ‘He did it for his
own gain, Marlin. He’s such a creep, I wish you’d see it. The only medicine he’s peddling is what he can sell to the addicts in his club.’
Marlin looked down at the time-worn floor. ‘He’s the only one who can deal with all the supply issues that crop up, and if that means a little side dealing, then it has to be so. You must admit the medical crates he acquired came in handy for the new arrivals.’ He looked at Harl. ‘Perhaps, when you get back, we can re-arrange a few things to help everyone fit in.’
Harl nodded, glad that Marlin was on their side and not oblivious to the problems they faced.
‘You have three days before that pipe goes,’ Marlin said, glancing at Screw. ‘At least that’s what the engineers are saying, and those chaps know their stuff. Good luck to you all.’
Tess followed close behind Marlin as he left and glanced back towards the four explorers as Kane half raised a hand in farewell.
‘When we get past this door,’ Screw said, spinning the lock wheel, ‘we’ll be entering the corridors that lead to the far side of the ship. We’re heading down at every opportunity, but be careful. The ship ain’t been safe for a long time. Should be fine for a while, but it degrades fast with no maintenance crews this far out.’
Beyond the heavy door, the corridor cooled and there was a dry metallic taste in the air. The lights dimmed as the ceiling tubes above stretched along the corridor ahead of them. Each one subtly fainter than the previous.
‘They’re dimming,’ Damen said, looking up at one as they passed beneath its flickering beam.
‘Not enough power for the whole ship,’ Kane said. ‘I would imagine the core has been failing slowly over such a lengthy period of use.’
‘Aye,’ Screw said as the corridor opened out into a wide room scattered with broken chairs and tables coated in dust. ‘We’ve had to re-route the power to our section as the reactor fades. Been dealing with more power cuts than ever before. Usually it’s just a Hoarder attempting to divert power from one of the main lines, but closer to the source, small tremors come from the reactor. Sending crews out gets more hazardous each time. Not that anyone cares as long as the lights stay on and the air pumps keep circulating-’
‘Whoa!’ Harl’s foot plunged through the rusted floor, dropping him hard to one knee. He braced both hands against the floor in an attempt to stop himself plunging any deeper through the floor, but everything seemed to be giving way around him as the aged metal crumbled beneath his weight. He could feel the emptiness around the foot that had broken through to the level below and fought the urge to scream, imagining a Hoarder beneath, blade ready to hack off the flailing limb.
Damen grabbed the back of his suit to prevent his weight expanding the hole further and, with both hands on the floor, Harl pushed up as Damen and Screw hauled him out.
‘Bloody place is falling apart,’ Screw said. ‘Keep yer eyes peeled for any more rust patches. Who knows what’s below this floor.’
They followed the engineer as he led them into a wide, double-height room that was overlooked by a walkway high above them on either side.
Harl walked beside Kane as Damen scanned the walkway above and the darkened doorways that led off into black hallways. Kane had been mostly quiet since they’d left. Harl thought he knew why but didn’t want to offend. He took the plunge.
‘Who was she?’ Harl asked when Screw was far ahead, looking into a dead end, and Damen was investigating a dark side room.
Kane raised an eyebrow at his audacity.
‘When you said to Troy about women. Just a guess.’
Kane shook his head, smiling.
‘A Passive,’ Kane said, referring to the racial divide in the city he grew up in. ‘As I was an Enlightened, she was off limits.’ He shrugged. ‘Of course I didn’t care, but it wasn’t going to last.’
‘What happened?’
‘She died,’ he said.
Harl regretted the question.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘Hivers got her,’ Kane said. ‘She was working the farmland outside the walls with her father. Hivers came, killed him and chased her to the gate. The guards couldn’t open it fast enough and, as they tried to protect her from the parapet, one dropped a pistol over the wall for her.’
‘It was too late?’ Harl asked.
Kane swallowed as he looked at the worn, metal floor. ‘She didn’t know how to use it, Harl. If we’d bothered to teach the Passives about technology and put aside our stupid differences then she’d have been able to save herself.’
Turmoil split Kane’s face even as the scientist looked away, attempting to hide it.
Damen ducked out from one of the side rooms. He had found some kind of crude axe weapon and was inspecting it. The rough head was made from a sharpened fragment of metal that was bound to a short length of pipe with electrical cable.
‘Hoarder’s weapon,’ Screw said, looking around at Damen before turning his attention back to a small space at the far end of the room.
Harl headed towards it, but Screw thrust an arm out to stop him.
‘Hold your horses, laddie,’ he said. ‘Elevator shaft. Take one step through there and you’ll have a right quick trip to the bottom.
They stepped closer and Harl could see that it was an empty shaft that cut above and below into the darkness of the ship. It gave him a dizzy feeling as he stood peering down into the black abyss.
‘We’re going down there?’ Kane said. ‘Perhaps there are some stairs somewhere?’
‘Coward,’ Damen muttered as he extended his arm over the black hole and let go of the hatchet.
‘Fool,’ Screw said, grabbing Damen, but it was too late. The weapon dropped away into the darkness and clanged off the sides of the shaft, rattling fitments as it collided with a series of obstacles on its way down, before striking bottom with a resounding boom.
‘Now every Hoarder with ears will be awake,’ Screw said, scowling at Damen.
Screw turned and unzipped his bag, then drew out a long coil of rope with a complex claw on one end and hooked it on the edge of the deep shaft. He then unclipped a pocket on his suit and slid out two thin, clear cylinders. When he bent them in half, Harl watched, amazed, as the cracking noise gave way to a flood of bright, iridescent liquid that swirled within the tubes.
‘A chemical reaction?’ Kane said, his face lit up in the eerie green hue. ‘Fascinating.’
‘Who knows?’ Screw said, letting one fall down the vertical drop. ‘Tess might be able to explain it.’
Kane stayed silent as green lit the fall, highlighting sections and openings as it plummeted to the bottom. The light was faint, but at least they could see an end to the shaft. Screw dropped the coil of rope beside him and pulled a short knife from a loop on his suit leg. Holding the other tube up, he sliced the end off, spilling droplets of the glowing liquid over the floor, staining the dirty surface. He flicked the tube into the shaft, spraying the walls in highlighted splashes, illuminating the first twenty paces of the hole.
One by one, they climbed out onto the rope and began their descent.
‘How far down are we going?’ Kane asked.
‘The Bottom,’ Screw said, cracking another glow tube and dropping it. The floor of the shaft looked to be about fifty metres below them.
The rope swayed under the tension of the four men, bumping Harl into the cold metal wall. Every time he passed an opening to a deck, shivers ran down his spine. It was surely just a matter of time before a grimy Hoarder reached in to tug him off the line or stab him with a knife. Even with Damen and Screw below him and Kane above, he still felt vulnerable.
‘What was that?’ Damen said from below.
Harl looked down to see a vague shadow flicker far beneath them. Had something knocked one of the glow sticks? Was something waiting patiently for them to lower themselves into its trap? The pace slowed as Damen drew his rifle and then slid down the final section of rope.
Screw landed first, calling up a ‘clear’ before Harl joined hi
m and Damen. Harl’s feet sank into a layer of muck and rusty detritus and he moved aside to let Kane touch down on the scrap strewn floor. A heap of discarded machine parts half-blocked the doorway leading out from the shaft, as if the shaft had been used as a bin from all the decks above. Harl could see the start of a scrap-laden corridor beyond the machine parts, but it was difficult to make anything out. There was hardly any space around the pile of refuse and the corridor beyond was pitch dark.
‘Here,’ Screw said, pulling out three hand-held metallic cylinders and passed one to each of them.
Kane clicked his on first, shooting a beam of light into Damen’s eyes, making him drop his rifle. He swatted at Kane, who tripped on some debris as he attempted to avoid the blow, and then stumbled against a rusted container that rattled and clanged against the metal wall.
‘Shh,’ Screw said.
Kane scowled at Damen as the big man used his hands to dig a crawl space through the pile of machine parts.
‘These should last a while,’ Screw said, switching his helmet light on, ‘but careful not to drop ‘em. They’re not always reliable. We couldn’t use them in the shaft or we’d broadcast ourselves to any Hoarders nearby on the decks above.’
They followed Screw as he crawled through Damen’s tunnel. The hallway beyond the machine pile smelled dank and musty when they emerged. The torchlight showed only a monochrome world around them, derelict and forgotten. Most of the lights had been cannibalised from the roof to leave the cables dangling down like strands of cobweb. Doors had been dismantled and carted away and the doorways were just dark openings that seemed resistant to the light, only revealing their secrets at the last possible moment.
‘There’s something down here,’ Damen said, scanning each room as they passed. The torch strapped to his rifle tracked each rust stained wall until they were certain nothing lurked in the corners.
Doors led off on either side and, seemingly at random, Screw would twist one way or another somehow working off a mental map of the deck as they followed the corridors between rooms.