by Amy Braun
Poacher snorted. “I say we split up. Find this thing on our own, then find each other after.”
“And how long do you think that will take?” Sawyer challenged. “Before you decide to stab us in the back, or after?”
Poacher growled, but Ryland stepped in.
“Relax, boys. The former captain has a point. We’re not the most trustworthy folk on this side of the Aon.”
At least he was honest.
“Still, we know the ship. I can tell you we’ve never been in the engineering bay, because no one can get in. It’s got some lock on it. Can’t get in unless you have a key.”
A key. The key.
My hand went around my throat, grabbing the skeleton key and pulling it from my shirt. “You mean a key like this?”
For once, Ryland seemed surprised. Speechless, even. I tucked the key under my collar and took out a small screwdriver from my belt. I unscrewed the bolts and pulled the plastic cover free, taking the map from its place. I pulled apart a torch for Riley and handed it and the map to him. I took another torch out and gave it to Gemma when she slipped through the doorway onto the catwalk. Nash was right behind her, but Sawyer held back to scrutinize Ryland.
“Not coming?”
The callous pirate chuckled and slapped his hands on his thighs. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be. A man needs his rest.”
“You gave your word,” Sawyer reminded dangerously.
“And I kept it,” countered Ryland. You’re on the damn ship, aren’t you? Besides, you’re a Kendric. It’s your word I can’t trust.”
Sawyer didn’t flinch, but I knew the insult ate at him like acid.
“Look, if you’re so afraid of the dark, keep my men.” His grin twisted. “You can feel like a real captain for once before I take the Dauntless from you.”
Sawyer’s hand went to his belt, wrapping around the cutlass’ hilt. The Dogs surrounding him took a step forward. Ryland smiled and stood there, daring him to make a move.
Nash came up behind his friend and put his hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. Whatever he said made Sawyer relax, if only by an inch.
“You’re staying right here,” commanded Sawyer. “If I come back and find you’re gone, I’ll assume you’re betraying us. And then I’ll kill you.”
Ryland clucked his tongue. “Look at you, trying to make threats when you have no mettle. It’s cute, and pathetic. I’m embarrassed for you.”
Sawyer tried to take a step forward, but Nash yanked him back toward the door. Ryland ordered his men to go with us, and they followed in a sullen mood.
Riley led the group, moving down the catwalk at an easy pace. About thirty feet later, he stopped at the end where the metal ladder was. He folded the map to put in his pocket. As he turned to descend the metal rungs, he grinned at me.
“At least we’re going down this time.”
I smiled. It was good to feel one on my face again, and to see one on his. When Riley’s head was out of sight, I walked over and peered down. The ladder’s angle wasn’t terrible, he seemed to have a steady grip, and the second floor wasn’t very far. I waited until Riley was nearly at the bottom before I followed him.
As I went down, the temperature began to drop. We hadn’t been much warmer since getting into the Meridian, but at least we were out of the wind. Down in the belly of the ship however, it was like walking into an icebox. I shivered and bunched my shoulders, searching for warmth that wasn’t there.
“Here,” Riley said. He handed me the map and torch. I held them both in front of me, reading the layout the same way I would the design for a machine or power source. It was a straight walk to the engineering bay, but it was a long one, and all my torches wouldn’t brighten half the shadows in here.
My thoughts were cut off when Riley pressed himself against my back, wrapping his warm body around me and rubbing my arms.
“Feeling warmer?”
I barely heard his question, so absorbed by the safety of his arms and his warm breath through my hair. He leaned closer to whisper in my ear.
“We need a backup plan, Claire,” he said. “In case we get there and the machine doesn’t exist.”
I knew he was right, but I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t want to.
Boots stomped heavily on the concrete floor. I pulled away from Riley, the cold settling back in almost instantly. I faced him, but could only hold his eyes for a moment.
“We’ll find the bay first,” I told him. “Anything else will have to come later.”
I saw him nod briefly before I handed back the map. Even if I had a better understanding of it now, I wanted Riley holding something other than me. I didn’t want the distraction, especially after kissing Sawyer only hours ago. My emotions went haywire around the two men, and the last thing I needed was to lose focus of what I was here to do.
Pushing Riley and Sawyer to the back to my mind, I started walking at the head of the group with the torch raised high. As I walked beside Riley, who seemed to know exactly where he was going, I took in the expanse of the Capital Meridian.
Wind whistled through fist-sized holes in the ceiling. Trickles of snow billowed in, dancing in front of broken piping and cooling fans. The light from the holes was faint and didn’t reach the concrete floor we walked on. I shone the torch to my right, seeing overturned tables and broken crates lying next to open, cavernous doors. Between the doors and the labeling on the walls, it was easy to see what each room once held.
Blocky letters spray-painted on the walls told me the closest rooms were gunrooms for junior officers. Farther down the hall were the Armories, which held nothing but empty metal shelves. We passed the double doors of the general mess and the single door of the officer’s mess with toppled chairs, the major and minor infirmaries with ravaged cabinets, and the rec room with broken pool tables and a floor covered with scattered playing cards. Each door was as bland and lifeless as the rest of the ship, nothing more than a seven by seven foot aperture in a bolted wall with ladders beside them. It all had a cold, empty feeling to it that spoke more of business than adventure.
I turned the torch to the left, where the rooms had the same vacant feel from the outside, though I could see more of the interiors since I was walking closer to them. The floor of the map room was littered in discarded papers held down by overturned chairs. Power Room One had broken piping and torn out wires on the control panels and circuit breakers. The Repair Room had walls of empty hooks, the tools long gone.
Staff, solider, and officer quarters resided close to the stern, sheets removed from the beds and personal chests opened and looted. The laundry room was empty of linens and clothes. Supply rooms were stripped clean. The kitchens and food stores contained only splintered crates, barrels, and moldy piles of food on the floor.
The only things I didn’t see were bodies. Most marauders weren’t sentimental when it came to corpses, so I found it hard to believe they would have decently removed or buried the dead. The dark stains splattered on the walls and the drag marks on the dusty floor were the only indication that violence had erupted here.
I didn’t want to think about what happened to the bodies, or why they were gone. The entire ship felt too eerie, and I had no doubt the dead had left their ghosts behind. I wondered what it was like to be on this vessel when it was in its prime. It must have been a beehive, filled with busy workers running back and forth to their jobs. I imagined that the Sky Guard soldiers were bored in the beginning, feeling safe in their strong vessel though the threat of marauders was constant. Explorers, Electricians, and engineers must have worked from dusk until dawn, planning out contingencies and scenarios, taking readings on the deck and sending messages to Westraven. The Discovery had been an expedition that spanned months. The risk of mutiny must have grown every day the explorers found nothing.
Maybe the explorers became nervous, walking these wide halls and seeing the impatient, homesick soldiers glaring at them. The officers would have been gett
ing impatient as well. They could have panicked and pushed the engineers to work faster, creating a machine that would open a new door to another dimension to appease the Sky Guard.
There must have been cheers that day. The soldiers could join in the excitement, see new life, and have hope for the future of their families. The explorers would be relieved and thrilled they’d accomplished their mission. The engineers and Electricians would be able to rest.
But the world they found wasn’t what they expected. I imagined the dimension beyond the Breach was dark and cloudy, since Hellions couldn’t survive in the light. The crew of the Meridian would know that our future generations wouldn’t survive there.
The marauders must have come through the Breach soon after that. It would have been chaos, so many people running to do something, to fight the pirates and the Hellions at the same time. The Meridian was a strong ship, but it would only be able to take so many hits. How many people died here before they returned to Westraven?
I reached into my coat and felt the leather of my mother’s journal. I regretted not reading more of it before coming here. There were secrets in the hollow walls of this ship, and not knowing those secrets could have devastating consequences.
“We’re here,” Riley said.
Hearing his voice took me out of my thoughts. If he hadn’t said anything, I probably would have kept walking until I reached the end of the ship. I turned to face the only set of closed doors in the entire frigate. Above the entrance were thick letters that read “ENGINEERING BAY.” My pulse increased at the sight of them.
I stepped in front of Riley, looking at the double doors and the keyhole in front of them. I handed the torch back to Riley and lifted the skeleton key from my neck. I ran my thumb over it, hoping this was what it was for.
Holding my breath, I put the key in the lock. It fit perfectly. I turned and heard a click. But the door didn’t open.
Frowning, I stepped back and looked over the door again. Then I looked to the side, and saw a thin box sticking to the right side of the door. I walked over to it and flipped the panel open. The door was operated opened by a key, but powered by electricity.
I took out the Volt, the only electrically charged device I had with me.
“What are you doing?” Sawyer asked. He sounded anything but pleased.
“The door needs an override,” I explained. “Just a simple jump to get it open.” I looked at him with a playful smile. “It won’t be like last time, I promise.”
He narrowed his eyes and frowned. The last time I needed to jump an override, I electrocuted myself while we were crashing the Behemoth.
Not waiting for his next argument, I put the magnetized end of the Volt in between the dead wires. I connected a few of them, then looked at the group. “Find something to hold the doors open,” I instructed.
The Stray Dogs glared at me. Gemma and Nash were the only ones who seemed ready to follow my request, searching the corridor for something to stabilize the doors. Taking a quick breath, I tapped the button on the top of the Volt.
Electricity burst and spat white sparks in my direction. I stepped back and listened to the doors grind open. I rushed around and grabbed the key from the lock. Nash and Gemma darted into the engineering bay, dragging two heavy metal crates with them. When they were placed on either side of the doors, I tapped the Volt again and stopped the electric flow. I did it fast enough that I wasn’t hurt, but I gingerly took the Volt out of the control panel and slipped it back into my belt.
Without waiting for the others, I swung around the doors and entered the engineering bay.
My breath caught in my throat.
The lights in the long, rectangular room glowed blue, probably a leftover charge from when I jolted the door open. Two worktables, dented metal crates, forgotten toolkits, spare transformers and generators sat uselessly against the walls.
But in the middle of the room was a machine. Two large columns of thick, clear glass stood on metal dais, forked connectors and jagged filaments placed on the top of each tube to channel the electricity. Wires and a larger, wider filament connected both of them. At the bases were control panels with switches, buttons, and levers. Heavy cords were plugged into generators and transformers that connected the machines. I ran over to the largest generator on the left of the room and flipped on the main power switch.
The room instantly filled with a dull blue tungsten light, the emergency power being rerouted from the backup generator my parents had probably created in case of an electric failure. A steady buzz and hum came from the machine, little green lights flickering to life on each dais.
The very air felt alive with energy. I could feel the enormous power coming from this device, the thing that could have opened the Breach.
The Palisade. The machine my parents built.
Chapter 13
“They made it,” Riley whispered. “They actually built it.”
He gaped at the Palisade, like he couldn’t actually believe it existed in the first place, despite seeing the sketches in my mother’s journal and knowing Davin had stolen my father’s design plans.
I nodded, taking a step closer to the Palisade. For all its power, it was a simple design. As I walked around it, I began to understand how it worked.
The generators fed the power into the transformers in each dais, increasing as more generators were connected. The electricity was channeled into the second tube, effectively doubling its power as it coursed back and forth. All that energy would build but have nowhere to go. It had to be released, like a massive bolt of lightning.
“That’s what they did,” I muttered.
“Did what? What the hell are we looking at?” grumbled Poacher as he and the rest of the party stepped into the room.
“They made lightning,” I told them.
Everyone looked at me blankly. As I started to explain how the Palisade worked, the fear began to set in.
“It creates a massive electric charge that needs to be released, and can potentially burn up anything it hits.” I hesitated, then added, “even the space between worlds, if the air is thin enough.”
“Wait,” one of the Dogs snapped. “Are you saying that this thing,” he pointed accusingly at the Palisade, “is what opened the Breach?”
I was about to say yes, but the anger coming from the Stray Dogs felt like a powder keg at that moment.
“You said the machine can close it,” Sawyer reminded, effectively stopping the Dogs from acting rashly and violently.
“It can,” I repeated, though I was far from sure. “If I find out a way to reverse the charge, I might be able to have the lightning grab onto the edges of the tear and pull it back together.”
“Sounds impossible,” another Dog said bitterly.
It very well could be, I thought. “I need time.”
Sawyer read my face and faced the Dogs. “Search the ship. Make sure it’s empty.”
“You don’t give us orders,” Poacher growled.
“It’s not an order,” countered Sawyer. “It’s the chance for you to do something useful with your time instead of standing around with stupid looks on your faces.”
Poacher balled his fists and stormed forward. Nash pulled in front of Sawyer and shoved his old crewmate back.
“Get lost, Poach. You don’t want to be here anyway. See if there’s anything that hasn’t been looted.”
The Stray Dogs wanted to fight. They looked at the five of us, thinking the odds would be on their side if they rushed us now and took a couple of us down fast. But Sawyer, Nash, and Riley had fought three Hellions in the Crater and lived. Gemma was standing tall with her hands curled around the hilts of her knives. I had the Volt, the weapon they saw nearly annihilate their entire crew.