by Joe Ducie
Once over the ship, the crane operator lowered the load and, two metres above the deck, Drake waved to a very surprised crew as he disappeared into the cargo hold.
26
Titan’s Fall
Drake descended into the cargo hold of the Titan and leapt back off the crates onto the first walkway he saw. A group of crew down below were pointing and shouting at him, and he didn’t want to get swarmed and held down until Brand or any other guards caught up with him.
He hit the walkway hard. Shocking all of his injuries into protest, but with no time to waste, Drake stumbled onto his feet and took off at a quick jog, the best he could manage, through the ship.
The walkway led him to a steel door, an exit out of the hold, and into a narrow, dull-green corridor. Drake grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall as he ran, looking for a way down and around. Panting hard, he slipped down the handrail on a set of stairs, slamming into a surprised crew member at the bottom and knocking the hardhat from the poor chap’s head.
Drake managed to stay on his feet and took the next staircase down and swung left, back towards the cargo hold. Three crewmen raced towards him down the same hallway.
‘There he is!’ one of them barked. ‘Grab him!’
Drake didn’t slow down. He pulled the pin from the extinguisher, pointed the nozzle at the men, and squeezed the handle.
A cloud of thick, white smothering material burst from the extinguisher and hung in the air. The crew spluttered into the cloud as Drake ran past, holding his breath. He emerged on the other side covered in white powder, but still free, and tossed the extinguisher aside. The hallway led him exactly where he wanted to go – the ground floor of the cargo hold.
The stars were visible overhead, through the open hatch doors of the hold, as Drake disappeared into a maze of shipping containers and small crates, all stamped with the silver Alliance Systems crown.
Which one was it? For a moment, Drake’s mind froze. The number of Irene and Tristan’s container wouldn’t come to him. He rolled his tongue around his mouth and cursed. ‘I don’t wanna be here any more … you little rhyming idiot … nine-five-four!’
That was it.
Now where is it?
The hold was at least thirty metres across, dimly lit. Wails from the Rig’s evacuation sirens emanated down from above, adding a sense of urgency to the chase. Drake knew time was running out.
Panting from the exertion and the pain in his side, Drake ran in a pattern up and down the long aisles of the containers and crates, looking for the right one. He dismissed most of them straight away, as they were regular-sized shipping containers, far too long.
Towards the centre of the cargo hold, he began to find what he was looking for – the smaller crates and containers, wet from the sea air and fresh off the Rig.
‘Nine-five-four … nine-five-four …’ He ran past it twice before he saw the faded black numbers on the side. ‘Blimey, blind as a bat …’
With a grunt, Drake lifted and unlatched the bolt on container X-954AS and swung the door open. A pool of soft, ethereal light from the mineral spilled out onto the floor of the cargo hold. From between the rows of glowing tanks, Irene and Tristan poked their heads up, blinking against the brighter light from outside the container.
‘Will?’ Tristan whispered. ‘Will!’
They darted out from around the mineral tanks. Irene threw her arms around Drake, smiling. ‘Where are we?’
‘We’re on the Titan,’ Drake said. ‘They loaded you into the cargo hold. We’re right where we need to be.’
‘How’d you get off the Rig?’
Drake gave Irene a shaky smile. ‘They’re a bit distracted on the Rig at the moment. Come on. We’re going this way.’
‘I thought the plan was to hide in a container until we were away from this place and then swipe a speedboat?’ Tristan asked.
‘That was a good plan, yeah, but they know I’m here now. So hurry up, before we’re –’
Something bit Drake in his left shoulder and he stumbled back a step, a tiny frown creasing his brow. Whatever bit him burrowed deep and exploded out of the nook just over his heart and kept flying, smacking into the glowing tank of mineral in the container. He looked down and saw a crimson stain spreading through the green cloth of his jumpsuit.
Irene screamed.
Drake fell forwards into the Crystal-X container, just as Grey emerged from the shadows and closed his colossal arms around Irene and Tristan. They struggled, but were no match for Grey’s mineral-enhanced strength. There was no colour left in his eyes save that cruel, insane red.
Marcus Brand stepped out behind Grey, a smoking pistol in his hand, and looked down at Drake on the floor of the container.
I’ve been shot … some vague and distant part of Drake’s mind realised.
‘Take those two up top and cuff ’em to the deck,’ Brand said and handed Grey a pair of steel handcuffs. ‘Storm will need someone to blame for what happened down below the eastern platform. I think these two will do just nicely.’
Grey pulled Drake’s allies away. Irene clawed and bit at him, but he just squeezed her until she stopped.
‘Can I ask you a question, Drake?’ Brand said and kneeled down, passing his pistol from hand to hand.
Drake licked his lips. ‘Shoot …’
‘Can you name one person that’s going to miss you?’
Drops of water splashed against Drake’s forehead. He kept his gaze locked on Brand, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a web of cracks spreading through the mineral tank. Follow the web … The bullet that had passed clean through him, spraying his blood across the container, had slammed into the reinforced tank – and weakened the glass.
‘My friends would,’ Drake said, and found that he believed that.
Brand placed the barrel of his pistol between Drake’s eyes, as he had done in the exercise area a few months ago. ‘I mean someone that won’t be as dead as you in five minutes.’
Drake did the only thing that made sense. He curled his hand into a fist and punched the splintered glass of the mineral tank just behind his head. The tank shattered and Brand leapt back with a curse as a torrent of sea water and glowing blue mineral washed over Drake, covering him in a deluge of electric-blue light.
A harsh, startled breath was all he managed before the water hit him. Jolts of pure power made Drake arch his back as the glowing blue rock claimed him. Wherever the mineral touched bare skin, it clung and was absorbed into his flesh. Drake bathed in the Crystal-X and a rush of incredible energy surged through his body as he absorbed more and more of the light.
And still the mineral flowed, as if he were a sponge mopping up a spill. Hundreds of kilograms of it fell out of the tank and into the nearest source of life – William Drake.
Light.
Everything else faded away – the pain from his injuries, the fear for Irene and Tristan and the hate for Brand, Alan Grey and the immense, merciless Rig itself. In its place Drake felt an absurd calm, a solemn peace at the heart of the storm. He felt light, as energy from an impossible source soared through his veins and gave him strength.
Strength unbound.
He found himself on his feet, though he didn’t remember standing, and tiny sparks of blue lightning danced across his skin, playing in the blood trickling down his arm from the gunshot wound. Arcs of power struck the walls of the container, scorching them black. Water about a quarter metre deep flowed past his ankles, towards Brand, who turned on his heels and fled after taking one look at Drake’s face.
Not so fast, Drake thought, extending his arm. The same words burst from his throat, bellowing through the cargo hold, and rattling the entire ship.
A lash of pure energy whipped from his palm and wrapped itself around Brand’s neck. The guard was jerked back off his feet and hit the floor. Drake stepped out of the container, realised with some surprise that he was actually floating a few centimetres off the ground, and hovered over Brand.
Br
and’s gun arm came up and he fired three times – blam, blam, blam – point blank into Drake’s chest.
‘No …’
The bullets struck his chest and … phased straight through him, as if he wasn’t there – nothing but a ghost. The shots pinged off the containers behind him, ricocheting away through the hold.
Brand’s eyes widened. ‘Christ, lad, what are you?’
Drake considered, then shook his head. ‘Did you kill Doctor Lambros?’ he asked quietly. Power thrummed in every syllable, shaking the crates all around him.
‘I …’ Brand snarled. ‘Storm ordered it. The bitch was asking too many questions – ah!’
Drake clenched his fist and the noose of energy around Brand’s neck tightened, cutting him off with a strangled choke. ‘You deserve to die.’
Brand struggled against the bond of light and then slumped. ‘Are you …?’ he croaked. ‘Are you going to kill me, Drake?’
As if from across an impossible distance of time and space, a tiny voice whispered in the back of Drake’s mind. No … ‘I honestly don’t know,’ he said.
A flash of blinding light erupted from the mineral container. Drake hadn’t managed to absorb it all, and what was left in the bottom of the shattered tank had finally mixed with the open air. A wave of tremendous heat and power slammed into the two of them with all the fury of a tsunami. The explosion sent both Drake and Brand flying across the cargo hold. Drake slammed into containers, tore through them like tissue paper, and left dents in the ones he merely glanced. Blue light swam across his body, absorbing the impacts, protecting him. He was so full of energy he began to scream.
A white ball of burning fire consumed the cargo hold and began to grow, as Drake came to a ragged stop against the same crate he’d used to flee the Rig not twenty minutes ago. His leg was caught in the netting and he discovered there were limits to his newfound power. A sharp pain tore up through his ankle. Something snapped. Drake felt it go, but the pain was a distant thing, much like his shoulder.
The light flowing through his arms, his entire body, began to fade away. Unsure just how he’d grasped the power in the first place, only that he’d wanted to hurt Brand, he now felt like he’d been washed in with the tide, and the tide had receded – leaving him drying under a harsh, painful sun. Drake came crashing back down to earth, the Crystal-X dropping him as quickly as it had energised him. Staggering pain washed over him. He had been thrown clear of the blast range from the container, but that sphere of fire in the heart of the hold was growing.
And there’s another tank in there … not to mention the other containers.
Fear rushed through him as he realised the implications of what was happening. The Titan was going to explode – and soon.
Drake clung to the netting and crawled to his feet. His ankle stung when he put weight on it, but he could hobble. Pulsating heat, like the edge of a bonfire, chased him as he turned and fled towards the doorway out of the hold, into the corridors that would take him upstairs.
I won’t make it, he thought, as drops of molten metal began to rain down all around him. The hold was as bright as midday from the ball of fire. I need the power again …
Drake gritted his teeth and kept limping. Come on! A burst of blue light pulsed through his forearm, igniting the web of veins. He felt like he’d crawled back into the shallows of the impossible ocean of light his body had absorbed. The pain in his ankle lessened and Drake managed a slow jog and ducked for cover through the door out of the hold just as another, fatal explosion rocked the Titan.
To Drake, it sounded like the end of the world.
There was a mighty all-consuming roar as the remaining Crystal-X mineral, locked away in containers Drake hadn’t absorbed, exploded in a geyser of white-hot superheated flame. The entire hull of the Titan expanded outwards instantly. The pressure of the deton-ated mineral forced the seams within the ship and along the hull to burst.
Drake was thrown from his feet again and into the wall of the corridor. Rivets from the hold behind him popped out like bullets, shooting every which way. He held his hands over his head and curled up small, praying none of the deadly projectiles struck him. He got lucky, and as the fire began to truly rage in the hold behind him, Drake heard a terrible scream.
He looked back.
Standing in the doorway, wreathed in smoke and flame, Brand was on fire and screaming. All the hair had burned from his head and his armour was fused to his flesh. He fell to his knees as a wave of dark, foaming water burst through the hold – the explosions had finally ruptured the Titan’s hull – and swept him away.
Drake turned and fled through the nearest door, heading away from the cargo hold as fast as his injured ankle could carry him.
27
Collision
His ankle was broken, Drake was sure of it, but he could feel the raw power of the glowing mineral surging down through his body, into his leg to his foot, and knitting the bone back together. Terrified at what was happening to him, Drake realised he had no real control over the Crystal-X. It was in him, using him – washing him in and out on that unfathomably powerful tide. Unfortunately it didn’t seem to be doing much for the hole torn through his shoulder, but that was a dull pain. He was running on supercharged batteries now, pumped into overdrive and overtime.
Am I dying? Drake wondered. He’d absorbed more of the Crystal-X than any of Doctor Elias’ other subjects. Irene had been given a teaspoon’s worth, and she could heal fatal wounds. Even Grey and Anderson had received mild doses compared to what Drake had soaked up. A trickle compared to Niagara Falls. Am I dying? I’ve never felt more alive.
He laughed and clapped his hands together. Crackles of electric-blue lightning exploded between his fingers and left wicked, red-hot scorch marks on the walls of the corridor – a corridor that was now half a metre under rising water. Heading back the way he had come, Drake limped up a set of stairs, gripping the handrail.
He made it to the top and turned down the next corridor. Alan Grey tackled him with a snarl and they toppled back down the stairs, wrestling and clawing at each other. The flood at the bottom broke their fall, but quickly swept them both down the corridor, away from the hold and deeper into the bowels of the doomed ship.
Drake spun in the surge of freezing water, his head ducking under the surface and back up as Grey struggled to pull him down. The flood spat them out on a walkway over an open space, which was fast filling with seawater. The deluge from the hold burst like a waterfall over the edge, raining down upon a sleek, idling speedboat, moored in its bay. The hatch doors built into the hull were flung wide open.
Drake’s eyes bulged – the flood had deposited him right where he’d wanted to be all along.
Grey was on his feet and kicked Drake in the stomach. Another explosion tore through the Titan and the two boys were thrown against the railing of the walkway. The ship made a screeching sound and began to tilt, sending the open hatch doors below the surface of the water. The speedboat dock began to flood from two sources.
Drake used the railing to climb to his feet. Grey tackled him again but he was ready for it this time, and slammed his fist into the side of Grey’s head. Blue light flared in a cone around his hand and the punch knocked Grey back a staggering step.
‘I’m going to kill you!’ the bully roared.
Grey was nearly twice his size in muscle mass alone, but Drake wasn’t so underpowered himself any more. Grey slammed his fists into the sides of Drake’s head and squeezed. Drake grabbed his forearms and squeezed back. A burst of blue energy rippled down his arms and Grey let go, howling, as Drake forced him to his knees, crushing his huge arms in an unbreakable vice-like grip.
‘Where did you put them?’ he shouted, as the ship began to tilt towards its bow. Drake stumbled back a few steps as Grey squirmed in his grasp. ‘Where are they?’
A horrendous sound of screeching metal and tearing steel echoed through the Titan.
The metal support beams overhead gave w
ay under the pressure and buckled. A tonne of steel slammed into the walkway and broke it in half. Grey and Drake dived aside at the last second and rolled across the floor. Drake managed to grab the handrail – Grey did not.
The ocean churning below had buried the dock, and only about three metres of the hatch doors were still above water. Enough room to manoeuvre the speedboat that had risen with the flood, if Drake had time. Grey tried to pull himself back over the railing. He was hanging only a metre above the violent current of water. The light in his eyes was dull, insane. He couldn’t lift himself back up.
And Drake couldn’t watch him die.
‘Give me your hand!’ Another explosion rocked the ship and Drake was flung forwards into the handrail above Grey. ‘Damn it, Grey, your hand!’
Grey reached his hand up and shot a beam of pure energy at Drake, what Doctor Elias had called hard-light. Drake reared back, away from the crimson light. White spots flared in front of his eyes and cleared just in time to see Grey’s grip slip on the edge of the walkway. Alan Grey fell, snarling and screaming, into the surging flood of seawater. He disappeared below the roiling waters and didn’t come back up.
Damn it, Drake thought, stunned. Damn it …
The tilt of the ship had forced the idling speedboat against the walkway, just two metres from where Drake clung to the railing. He took a step towards the boat, then another. It would be simple to climb over the rail and onto the nose of the craft.
You could take the boat, his mind whispered. There’s a GPS … You could make it back to the mainland.
Drake stood looking at the speedboat, at freedom, for about the same amount of time it took his heart to beat twice. Then he turned, pressed a hand against his shoulder, and limped deeper into the screaming ship, towards the stern. It was impossible to reach the stairs back down the corridor towards the cargo hold. The current was still flowing fast, now up to his waist, so Drake leapt over the gap in the walkway and followed it aft, hoping to find a way up to the deck.