by Martin Perry
The problem was reported immediately to the command deck and engine rooms. Panels flashed red as the coolant system lost control and began to flood the fuel cores with freezing blasts. As vital as it was to keep them from overheating frozen cores would be just as useless as burnt out ones. With only Natalie’s warm corpse present at their side, ice began to spread over their glowing blue exteriors.
“This is the Captain speaking,” came Champion’s voice over the audio channel. “We have a serious issue with the coolant system! Our cores are freezing, we’re going to drop out of the sky if something isn’t done immediately. I need this fixed now!”
A cacophony of response returned to the command deck in an instant. There was nothing that anybody could do, the single problem causing a ricochet across the ship and forcing any technically minded crew member to go into overdrive at his or her station. Nobody was free that could make the repair themselves.
“Hey! Hey! Everybody shut up!” Maur shouted, bringing a silence over the babbling channel while still desperately adjusting settings to ensure the continued progress of Annie. “Kerra, Kerra are you there?”
She hesitated in responding, gripping onto a kitchen surface to cope with the violent shaking of the ship. There was fear in her heart, but most of it was not caused by this constant turbulence, but instead by the thought of having to talk to Maur again. Kerra reasoned that there must be some good reason for breaking the silence between them, and so swallowed the glut of angst in her throat.
“Yes. I’m here,” she replied, much to the surprise of Thom, who stood a few feet away from her.
“Good. I can walk you through the repair, it’s fairly straightforward but you need to trust me,” Maur said, still hastily working away at his station on the other side of the ship. “Can you do that? Can you trust me Kerra?”
“I,” she paused, “just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“Fine, you need to get to the port fuel cores now. You know where they are?”
“Yes, down the stairs in the engine room, the very bottom of the ship.”
“Good, go!” Maur shouted.
Kerra took off in a sprint, diving out of the kitchen and dining area and to the back of the Jump Cannon as fast as her feet could carry her.
A cylinder of fire retardant had broken free of its clasps on the wall and rolled in front of her. Adjusting for the roll of the ship she leapt over it confidently, feet sliding on her landing and carrying her into the engine room.
The people inside looked at her briefly, with expressions of panic and dependency. They had all heard the conversation between her and Maur, they all knew how fractious their relationship now was, and they all willed her to see past that and get the job done. Otherwise, they might all die on this planet.
“Kerra, you need to get this right,” Champion broadcast as she took the steps two at a time. “We can’t afford to abort the launch, I don’t think we’d make it back in one piece. Get this right, please.”
The sight of Natalie crumpled on the floor stopped Kerra in her tracks. Blood had seeped out of the wound and was dripping down the criss-cross grating of the floor. The gentle drop-drop sound wasn’t audible over the noise of the furious engines, but Kerra was sure she could hear it anyway. She had known Natalie, she had tried to make her feel welcome when she joined the crew, trying to encourage the quiet youngster to come out of her shell.
“Kerra, can you see anything lying around? The systems are saying something came free from one of the valves,” Maur asked.
Kerra scanned the floor and found the guilty part settled next to the fuel core left inactive after the sabotage. It was covered in thick blood, with fragments of bone and flesh stuck in the mire. She moved to it, eschewing any squeamish desire to leave the gore alone, and ran it up her trouser leg to wipe away some of the evidence. No matter if it had taken a life, the Jump Cannon needed this part to preserve all the others inside her.
“I’ve got it, at least I think so,” Kerra said, talking to the sky and awaiting the next instruction. “It’s just a chunk of metal with a hinge, it can’t be more than a couple of centimetres long.”
“Good, it’s used to stem the flow of coolant,” Maur replied, slowing in his own work to start the walk through. “I don’t think it’s meant for the valves down there, it should be much bigger. On the wall behind the fuel cores you’ll see a set of pipes. One of them will be pissing coolant out everywhere.”
“Yeah, you’re right, there’s a pretty steady flow. It’s mostly going into the system but some of it is becoming airborne.”
“Kerra, you can’t get too much of that shit on you, frostbite doesn’t even cover it. Keep out of its way and hit the big red button above the leak. That component fits the hole. You need to get it back in there.”
Kerra pushed her back against the right hand wall, and began to slide along it toward the pipe. Luminous blue spurts of liquid flew past her face as she got closer and closer. The engines were turning white, this fluid well on its way to freezing them to a halt. She was almost there when the first drops made contact with her skin. The cold burn caused her to scream, but still she pushed on.
“Come on Kerra, you can do it,” Maur re-assured over the audio channel.
She slumped her back against the operational pipes and darted a hand out over the emergency stop/start. The last drops of coolant before the halt pattered out onto her hand and damaged her nerve-endings, there was no sensation in her fingers.
“Just slot it in and pull the clamps down Kerra, and we’re done.”
Kerra complied, flipping her body in front of the opening with a fear that more of the freezing fluid might still burst out. It didn’t, but it took the last ounces of energy within her numb limbs to slide the component into the hole and clamp it down. The last clasp wouldn’t hold and she had to shove it repeatedly before the reassuring click was heard. She banged her hand back against the stop/start.
“Done, I’m done,” she gasped. The engines whirred angrily as the regulatory system became fully functional again and they began to receive the right amount of coolant. Frozen parts cracked through the icy coverings that they had been unable to warm through before.
“Well done,” said the Captain. “Things look steady. We’re pushing through the upper atmosphere, we’ll be in orbit within the next few minutes.”
Maur relaxed as the engines levelled out and Annie stopped panicking. His heart was pounding against his chest as he looked for approval from Max to leave the engine room. With a nod he began his own sprint over to Kerra’s side.
Celebrate the sky, for it holds your dreams,
Await the day, when it might split at the seams.
Origin unknown.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thom and Charles were the first to get to Kerra, she was still slumped against the walls even as the ship began its orbit. Where the liquid had made contact with her body there were now open wounds. Her skin had been peeled back as the liquid grazed against her, travelling at such a velocity as to attach itself and rip away a mass of individually tiny scabs. She was shivering, although not from the cold, but instead due to the panic these wounds were causing her. It was as if sandpaper had been rubbed against her skin.
The two men said nothing, instead solemnly picking up their friend and slinging one of her arms over each of their shoulders. Kerra winced despite the care they showed towards not making contact with the wounds. Through the grimace though she tried to maintain a thankful smile, although it was her carriers that ought to offer platitudes in return for halting the fuel core overheat.
“It could have been worse right?” Kerra said, turning her head to talk quietly into Charles’ ear, her volume limited by the pain. “We could have ended up as today’s weather – cloudy with a chance of limbs. Everybody is in one piece. Everybody made it.”
She uttered the words at an inopportune moment, just as her low slung head came into line with Natalie’s dead body. Kerra winced again, but this
time it was under the weight of guilt. In her mind, she questioned her decision to stay with Thom rather than offer to support the engineering teams in the engine rooms. These were not fair thoughts, it was not right that Kerra was blaming herself, but the mix of pain and a corpse took her to the brink of sensible thought.
Thom and Charles lifted her up over Natalie, stepping over her body as if it weren’t there. This made Kerra feel even worse, driving home that yet another crewman had been lost, that another person would eventually be forgotten in the growing swell of dead faces to remember. As the engines hummed gently in the background, she was faced with thoughts of surrender, of giving in to the tragedy they had been dealt over the past few months. These thoughts lingered until Maur came sprinting down the steps and toward her.
His face was stricken with fear, that much she saw before it blurred into hers. With Thom and Charles flanking the embrace, Maur cradled her cheeks and connected their lips together. His kiss was caring but brash, both of their faces pressed together so that they could feel the outline of each others skulls rubbing together. Kerra’s face was wet with sweat, but still she could still feel cold beads leak from his eyes onto her. It lifted her up from the doldrums of depression, it cleared away the cob-webs of Natalie’s death that still lay so fresh beside them. It told her she loved him.
“Come on dude,” Thom said with sincere appreciation for the moment. “We need to get her to Beatrice. Some of these wounds are pretty bad.”
“Uh, yeah, sorry,” replied Maur, releasing his grip and standing aside with a sheepish look.
“It’s fine, just make sure you don’t kiss me next time I need medical attention,” Thom smirked.
The bustle of the engine room above had calmed a little, and a few faces peered away from the panels and equipment to look at Kerra as she was half-dragged out into the hallways. Nobody moved to thank her, by now having worked out that Natalie, somebody that they considered a friend, would not be making her own way out. Kerra maintained a focus on Maur as he cleared the path in front of them, it stopped the guilt reoccurring as all these disappointed faces glanced at her.
Beta Crew’s limping trip around to the medical bay was unimpeded, what few crowds there might have been still entirely occupied by diagnostic checks running to ensure no damage had been suffered during lift off. Leaving her to rest, all three of the men left Kerra in the care of Dr. Beat and made sure they were well out of earshot.
“This is all my fault, everything, Kerra would never have been hurt were it not for the Free Man Nation,” Maur said with stress in his voice.
“Your statement negates itself Maur,” Charles replied. “Exactly as you say this is all down to the Nation, not you.”
“Well I’ve certainly not helped...”
“Maur, listen to Charles,” said Thom. “This isn’t your fault. We just need to make sure that we take whatever steps are necessary. Annie couldn’t afford to lose another member of her crew, and we almost lost two. We can’t keep taking this, we need to fight back!”
Charles let out a deep sigh and uncrossed his arms, the white vest he was wearing being left with wet patches of sweat. The life support systems were keeping them all breathing, but the heat aboard Annie was veering into the realm of tropical.
“While I agree Thom, there is only one fragment of the Free Man Nation within our possession at this time,” he said. “I think it is quite obvious where our rage should be directed – into the face of the only enemy aboard this ship.”
Nodding in agreement Maur and Thom flanked Charles as they strode back through the ship. A few faces were now lining the hallways and they flicked looks of concern in their direction. The three of them were walking with intent, eyes pointed forward. Maur was ready to execute whatever plan Charles might put in motion when they reached the target, no matter how violent.
Langthorn, the saboteur, sat still on the floor of his cell. Charles' hand thudded down onto the bars and created enough of a noise to startle the man. He had spent enough time around men of ill intent to know what was about to come. The door was hauled open and the biggest of the three pounded into the cell and lifted the saboteur up by the scruff of the neck.
“You have just caused the death of yet another member of our crew,” Charles spat, “and one of my very dearest friends suffered directly because of your actions.”
They were face to face, Charles and Langthorn, looking into each others eyes with equal dislike. Of course, for one of these men the situation was far graver. Without weapons Langthorn was outmatched, the other two men in the room were almost irrelevant at this stage. He wriggled a little, but it was a token gesture against Charles’ steel grip.
“I do not see how I can be held responsible for the outcome of a launch...”
His sentence was barely finished before his body was thrown across the room, hitting the wall to Charles’ left side. The noise was a crumple, one of Langthorn's ribs breaking when he hit. He had been thrown so hard that there wasn’t any rigidity in his body as it flew, and he could offer no resistance to the crash.
To his surprise, which was clouded in the pain of the newly broken rib, Charles was not immediately upon him. Instead the seething brute walked calmly to his feet, and looked down on him. Langthorn dared not move, and even rising his hand to try and protect himself hurt. He was no more than a wounded animal.
“If you are to kill me, do it quickly. You owe a fellow human that much,” Langthorn whimpered.
“I owe you and your bullshit beliefs nothing,” Charles replied. He turned away from Langthorn, well aware that the saboteur would not risk the consequences of moving, stepping out into the hall and begin to tap at a panel. “Captain...”
“...I’m here Charles, are we ready to proceed?”
“I believe so Captain, I have Maur and the saboteur here. I might need an extra man if you need both straight away...”
“Wait, what’s going on?” Maur asked, a little panic in his voice. He was ignored.
“Understood, I’ll send somebody down.”
Maur thought of moving to confront Charles out in the hall but thought better of turning his back on Langthorn. Instead he leaned his head forward in anticipation of what was yet to come. It took only a few minutes for two flanking military staff to appear, Mike Coollins and a puran called Petra Mela, both of whom Maur knew were a fair match even despite his recent training.
In his mind the whole thing started to drastically escalate. Maur considered himself central in all the troubles that they had faced recently, and in light of yet another death, he did not see it as beyond reason that his fellow crew had put him in the same category as Langthorn. Through this Thom stood like a statue, unable to calculate what was going on.
“Charles, you need to explain what’s going on here,” Maur said agitatedly. “You can’t expect me to go along with a plan that you haven’t even explained to me.”
Even Langthorn, with the searing pain of a broken rib to contend with, had started to question the situation that was unfolding in front of him.
“Mike, Petra, take Maur to the airlock,” Charles said without a flutter in his voice. “Thom, we’ll take the prisoner.”
“Charles, come on, what’s going on?” Thom said.
“Do as you are told Thom, a woman lies dead just a few hundred feet away from us, it is not the time for questions,” Charles barked in reply.
“Yeah, but...”
“Thom, do not press me. I am operating under the orders of the Captain, as should you...”
Maur was silenced by the apparent betrayal, as Mike and Petra hitched their considerable strength under either of his arms and began to drag him forward. He offered little resistance, but instead stared into Charles’ eyes as he passed him. Whatever trouble he had brought to the Jump Cannon it had always been unintentional, he thought, and there was an expectation of better treatment than this. He was being led as a prisoner, and the implications of the silent march he was being led on began to sink in. This f
elt like a trip offered by an executioner.
An audience had assembled when he arrived, followed shortly after by Langthorn and his escort. Champion was present, looking stressed but stalwart. Marc 14 too, although his look was more relaxed, confidently returning the fearful stare that Maur directed toward him.
Yazram, along with a few of the command deck team, had been brought for the purposes of operating the airlocks.
The airlock itself loomed in front. Cylindrical and small, it was located on the upper level of the ship, opening from above out into the void; supplies and crew required to be lowered in. Able to open independently, it could also be split into different compartments depending on the requirement. For now it had been purposed as two holding cells, equally split down the centre.
Maur’s escort separated from him once he had been placed inside. Langthorn’s group repeated the procedure before Thom and Charles moved back to stand as part of the audience. Both of them wore grave faces, but only Thom’s interpretation of the events that were unfolding gave a hint that somebody present might not be so certain that this was the right thing to do.
Heavy glass doors hissed downward as the airlock sealed, the outward facing threshold locked above the heads of Maur and Langthorn. The multiple parts of the containment clanked down with an ominous shunt of movement, closing them both inside cells which offered no other escape than the vacuum of space.
Langthorn was far less animated than Maur, who had begun to pace back and forward, thumping a hand against the walls that enclosed him. Instead, the disciple of the Free Man Nation stood with his hands free, assessing the situation and staring calmly out at his attackers.
“You have both been brought here for a single reason,” Champion said, moving to the fore of the small crowd. “Through varying yet equally heinous acts you have brought death and destruction to this ship. I can not allow this to continue, as you might expect, and as the authority aboard this ship, using the powers granted to me by the universal laws that as natives of Earth you are both bound by, I must seek to carry out swift, fair justice.”
