Abel

by Zack Metcalfe

  Chapter – 4

   

  I inhaled sharply as I pressed my finger firmly against the airlock control panel. A thick door slid into place between the weapons and I. A countdown automatically began, and I walked up to the airlock door’s wide window, seeing the weapons lying in the small space where I’d set them. The countdown hit zero, and the airlock burst open, all its contents being sucked into space. The weapons dispersed into nothingness, and within a few seconds, they were completely indistinguishable from the empty curtain of black.

  The lights flickered while the airlock slowly eased itself closed. I was glad to be rid of the weapons. They didn't make me nearly as uncomfortable as they made my father, and even my mother. I just couldn't handle the stress it placed on each of them. I'd never seen a weapon fired. I had no idea what they were capable of.

  Then the image of Mars being consumed by waves of fire came to mind.

  I shook my head, banishing the thought, and returned to the room with the large double doors, and now empty containers. Activating the lights had been a lot easier than I expected. On one of the containers I'd neatly arranged all the power cells I could find. There were several dozen. The floor was spotless, except for the drops of blood I lost during my first visit.

  The room was wide, and had a low hanging ceiling, which was perfect for my purposes. In the ceiling was an air vent, which led to many places on this side of the ship. These new places were unreachable to me, either because of sealed doors or vacuums. If I were right, this vent could help me past all that.

  Standing on one of the empty containers, I reached the air vent, inspecting its locking mechanism. I expected there to be very little air on the far side of this hatch, which might make it difficult to open. All the same, I prepared for the worst. Unlocking the hatch, I jumped back. To my surprise, the moment the hatch was released, it burst open with dangerous force. A heavy layer of dust exploded from it, and I began coughing violently.

  Waving the dust away, I looked to the open hatch. There had been pressure on the other side. Perhaps there was an error with my computers. Could that have been sealed in place for years? It didn't seem likely. Proceeding slowly, I reached for the opening, and struggled to hoist myself up.

  The vent was spacious. I could move on all fours with relative ease. Pulling my power cell from where I holstered it to my hip, I activated it and threw it into the darkness. Rolling awkwardly to a stop, it illuminated my path.

  I began crawling towards the power cell. I felt as though there was a light breeze on my face, which could be caused by the pressure difference slowly equalizing. Reaching the power cell, I chucked it further down the vent. I repeated this three times before being stopped by a split in the vent. One path was sealed off, and the other led to my right. I found this unexpected split worrying.

  This section of vents shouldn’t even be here, according to the ship maps I'd been following. These maps were sometimes hard to read, but I was certain this split wasn't here.

  From all the scrap computer systems and memories I had thrust together, somehow, I'd made a mistake, and thus had absolutely no idea where I was going, or what I would find once there.

  My first thought was to turn back, but I soon realized I couldn't. Even if I returned to my computers and found other maps to follow, I couldn't be certain I'd found the right ones unless I knew what was down this vent. I resolved to move forward, but I was disheartened. This meant I could be going in the completely wrong direction in my search for the command deck.

  I tossed the power cell yet again, and continued forward. I encountered more turns in the vents, so I decided to follow the soft breeze, which was now certainly there. I marked each turn I made with small scratches on the wall of the vent. I also did my best to keep track, and form a crude map in my mind.

  I threw the power cell again. It made a loud thud as it impacted the vent's floor, then started rolled away from me. A moment later, it vanished, falling through an opening ahead. It must have been another vent hatch.

  I was plunged into blackness when it fell. It was as if my veins were flooded with freezing water. I took a sharp breath, the fell silent. After several seconds I exhaled slowly and got a grip on myself. Moving slowly, I placed one hand in front of the other, moving forward. Once my eyes had adjusted, I could see the faint glow of the power cell. It wasn't enough to adequately make out the opening. It was much larger than I had anticipated.

  Crawling forward a step too hastily, my hand met nothing but air, and I tumbled forward with a shout. My foot caught in the vent behind me, causing me to spin in mid air and fall onto my back. Incredibly, I landed on something soft. Dust shot into the air around me on impact.

  Even with the green glow from my power cell, it took me a few moments to realize I was lying on a mattress. I looked at it in disbelief, then reached around for the power cell. Raising it into the air, I saw many beds, organized rather neatly around the room. Of all the places I could have landed...

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. In my bare feet, I could feel something being crushed beneath me as soon as I met floor. Looking down, I saw the impossible. There were insects, randomly dispersed on the floor. They didn't scatter, but some of them were wiggling subtly. I could tell by the sticky feeling under my feet that they were alive.

  I jumped back onto the bed, and reached frantically for the open hatch of the vent. With some difficulty, I managed to force it closed and lock it. breathing heavily, I kept watching the insects. They weren’t any serious threat to me, but I couldn't let them reach the vent. If that happened, they could find the garden, and perhaps destroy it in time. I recognized this species. They weren't to be taken lightly, not with an ecosystem so fragile on this ship.

  I stepped off the bed and knelt next to a small cluster, holding my light close. They were twitching, suffering in some way. The change in pressure, I realized, must have affected them. There was no telling whether they would recover. Part of me hoped they would. I thought insects were more or less extinct, much like any other life outside of this ship.

  I decided to go in search of whatever miracle that was keeping these insects alive. Very cautiously, I stood up and moved on, making sure not to crush any more fellow survivors. I saw an open door, leading into a long corridor. Still holding the power cell high, I entered.

  My light wasn’t strong enough to illuminate it all. This part of the ship was deathly silent. Every step echoed, and every breath was amplified. I felt my playful mind slowly asserting itself, making the dark seem endless. Things started to move in the shadows, and a soft tapping noise seemed to be coming from the distance. I acted quickly.

  I stood still and closed my eyes, pressing two fingers against my right temple. I took deep breaths and blocked out the world around me. It wasn’t easy. All my flawed instincts shouted at me to open my eyes. The first few moments I was trembling, but then I spoke out loud.

  “There is nothing there.”

  I was wrong.

  I opened my eyes, and saw something I must have been imagining. It was no less entrancing. In the distance, I could see a painting. My poor vision couldn’t make out the details.

  It was blue.

  In the dull light of my power cell, everything appeared green. This painting, however, was different. There was another light source, besides my power cell. I flicked off my light, and the hall fell to darkness once again, except for the intersecting hall where the painting hung. The light was faint, but it was there.

  I started towards it cautiously. As I drew closer to the painting, the image slowly came into focus. It was of five ancient wooden sea ships, with great sails and rope. They were in a raging storm, with black skies and towering waves. The five ships sported two differently coloured flags, and the crew on each ship were holding weapons. This was a naval battle, I soon realized. Or rather, this had been a battle, but there was no bloodlust in the eyes of the sailors anymore. Their cannons were not firing, and the weapons in th
eir hands were lowered. Men were being flung from their ships by the storm, and many others were tying themselves to masts and railings. The battle didn’t matter to them. It was amazing how pointless their differences seemed at a time like this, when everyone was facing death.

  I felt as if there was a deeper meaning to the painting. It reminded me of the war between Terrans and Martians. Such like in this painting, both sides were eventually faced with a storm that threatened to destroy them all. This storm was nuclear war. When the storms hit Mars all that time ago, however, they didn’t stop fighting. That was the difference between Mars and these battling ships.

  The painting captured me. I almost forgot where I stood. The longer I looked at it, the more I saw. It was almost too perfect of a metaphor for Mars, which made me suspicious. I reached out and touched it's surface, feeling the dried paint and the wooden frame. It had to be in my head. Could this beautiful painting actually exist? It felt real.

  I redirected my attention to the mysterious light coming from down the hall.

  I faced the light for the first time. Farther along, the hall opened into a chamber where I could see the light.

  Slowly, I drew nearer to the chamber. Arriving at the entrance, I saw something unbelievably beautiful. A few powerful lights were shining down on the remains of a garden. Most of the lights were smashed, and any order was gone. The trays had been tipped over, and the soil was piled on the floor. A leaking water reserve sent single drips into the smallest imaginable stream, soaking into the dark dirt.

  There were plants.

  Upon seeing them, I ran towards the spectacle, excited and bewildered. Once close enough, I saw more insects, the pests of my home world strewn over the floor. The pressure difference must have affected them as well. The plants were little more than weeds. I recognized them from the Martian junkyards.

  I fell to my knees in front of them, dropping my power cell. It was difficult to breathe. My eyes watered as I looked over the destroyed garden, admiring its resilience. I reached out, taking great care in touching one of the tender leaves.

  Something else caught my eye, something very small and very beautiful. Closer to the leaking water was a smaller plant, perhaps still young. It had three small leaves, green and red, taking in the artificial light from above. I knew the species at once. It was a Martian apple tree, an amazingly rare find. It produced undeniably the best fruit on the entire planet. We had one in our garden on Mars, over a decade ago when I was very young. Only once in my life had I eaten from it, and I would never forget the taste.

  I was about to reach out for it, when I felt a bizarre tingling sensation against my leg. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pearls, holding them in my right hand. The top pearl was glowing ominously, and getting progressively hotter. As first this heat was soothing, even comfortable, but soon it became somewhat painful. The glow of the pearl was starting to hurt my eyes.

  I tried dropping them, but when I tipped my hand and allowed them to fall, my fingers wrapped around them tightly. I couldn’t let go. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't gain control over my hand. The heat was starting to burn me, so I used my other hand, fighting desperately to peel back my fingers. They couldn't come.

  The temperature continued to increase until the pain was almost unbearable, and I started shouting. While I thrashed back and forth, I saw the apple tree briefly. It was glowing also, and increasing in intensity like the pearl. I looked at it in horror, and tried kicking myself away, back down the hall from which I'd come. The light grew more intense, until it was all I could see.

  Suddenly, as if I hadn’t slept in years, I lost consciousness. My body fell heavily to the ship’s floor, the pearls still clutched tightly in my hand.

  Mary Tanaka