Knile closed the call, and it was only then that he realised that the thumping sound from earlier had not ceased. Lazarus was still bashing at the perspex bubble of his compartment like a madman.
“Lazarus, will you knock it off? You’re going to–”
Knile leaned forward to get a visual on Lazarus’ compartment, and what he saw horrified him.
There was a thin jet of gas streaming from its exterior.
“For fuck’s sake, Lazarus! You’re venting oxygen into space. You’re going to get us all killed!”
“No,” Lazarus said. “The compartments are self-contained. It is my own safety that I am jeopardising.”
“Do what he says, you dumb fuck,” Holger said. “You’re not helping.”
But the Redman continued to hammer away regardless.
The habitat seemed utterly changed from how it had been only an hour ago. Warning lamps glimmered brightly, coating the shining metal handrails and walls in red, and glowing chevrons flashed in a flowing sequence in the floor under Ursie’s feet, guiding her and the other citizens toward the safety of the evacuation modules.
People were hastening past on the concourse, and any thoughts Ursie might have had of being confronted about the incident with the Redmen were quickly swept away. No one seemed concerned with anything other than getting out of the habitat in the quickest way possible.
Tobias caught up and stood with her as they watched the crowd filter urgently past.
“You should go with them, Tobias,” she said. “While you have the chance.”
“I said I was coming with you, no? That’s how it is.”
She stared up at him. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
He seemed to consider that. “I know you have a good heart. That’s all that matters.”
She could see that she wasn’t going to get through to him, and she didn’t have any time left in which to dissuade him. For better or worse, he was coming along.
“Okay. How do we get to the OrbitPod technicians?”
Tobias pointed. “That way.”
They headed off in the opposite direction to the flow of traffic, hustling their way through the crowd as quickly as they could. Ursie kept her hands to herself. She didn’t know what might happen should she inadvertently brush her fingers across the skin of a passerby. Her contact with the Redman earlier, while devastating for him, had been somewhat disorientating for her as well. Forming a mental link of such power was something new to her, and she wasn’t sure how she might react should it happen again.
“Down that corridor,” Tobias said. They deviated their course accordingly, and soon found themselves in a far quieter section of walkway. As they rounded another corner, Heketoro suddenly appeared, his face red as he dashed toward them. Before Ursie could react, he reached out to grab her arm.
“You guys are going the wrong–”
He froze as his fingers wrapped around her bare forearm, and Ursie suddenly found herself flooding into his mind, as if she were liquid poured from one cup into another. She permeated every part of his consciousness in an instant, absorbing his sensations, his memories, his thoughts and fears, and just like the experience with the Redman, she felt as though she were literally standing in his shoes, wearing his clothes.
The rapidity of the transition was once again shocking to Ursie. Even though she had done this very thing only an hour before, she was not even close to becoming accustomed to the immersiveness of the experience. The two of them stood, locked together, and in mere moments she had begun to share Heketoro’s understanding of the habitat, of the technical gadgets he worked with, his favourite foods. His hopes and aspirations, his dreams.
As she flowed through him, she saw that Heck was a smart kid. More than that, he was precocious. Ambitious. Although he worked in OrbitPod Control in an unofficial capacity, he’d been watching how things worked with a keen interest, studying the technicians as they went about their duties. He’d been asking a lot of questions, taking a lot of notes.
Assimilating this new information in a matter of heartbeats, Ursie found that a plan was already formulating in her mind. She knew what to do.
She drew herself back into her own consciousness. It was like bursting through the surface of the ocean and taking a lungful of air.
“Tobias,” she said, breathless. “You need to go and secure an evacuation module for us before they’re all taken. Can you do that?”
“Uh, sure,” Tobias said, glancing between Ursie and Heketoro in confusion.
“Heck’s going to take me to OrbitPod Control. We’ll meet you at the evac area in a few minutes.”
Tobias nodded slowly, then stepped over to examine Heketoro more closely. His hand was still clutched around Ursie’s arm, his face blank and trance-like.
“Heck? You okay?”
“Fine,” Heketoro said stiffly. “See you soon.”
Ursie forced Heck to turn, and together they began to run toward their destination, leaving Tobias to scratch his head under his station cap with a perplexed look on his face.
OrbitPod Control had emptied, and now the expanse of consoles and blinking gauges and terminal screens stood unattended in eerie silence. Ursie remembered, through Heketoro, how it had looked when in full operation. Technicians had bustled about, constantly monitoring and assessing, checking parameters and correlating data that came in from the sensors aboard the OrbitPod.
Heketoro wasn’t supposed to have access to this area, but he’d nagged at the supervisor at length, arguing that he could make repairs to the technicians’ gadgets more efficiently if he did not have to wait around for someone to let him in every time something broke. The supervisor had acceded, and Heck had used his elevated access privileges to spend plenty of time within OrbitPod Control, the place where he one day hoped to work as a technician himself.
That decision might turn out to be more important than anyone could have realised, she decided.
Ursie slipped her hand up to the back of Heketoro’s neck, where his thought stream was strongest, and guided him over to the control panel. With her free hand she hitched the longwave from her belt and dialled Knile’s number.
As Heck began to adjust the parameters, Knile answered.
“Ursie, what you have got?”
“Good news,” she said evenly. “I think I can help.”
“How?”
“It’s complicated, but I found out that the OrbitPod thrust is–”
“OrbitPod?”
“It’s what they call the railcar here.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, the OrbitPod thrust is variable. They increase or decrease the amount depending on the weight of the cargo. The more cargo, the heavier the load, and the more thrust is required to reach optimal speed. You with me so far?”
“Yeah.”
“According to the data here, the load you’re carrying is very light. Sound correct?”
“Yeah. The only cargo is a few weapons cases we brought.”
“Okay. There’s not much on board, so the amount of thrust applied is minimal. If I push the acceleration, you’ll go faster.” She paused to let that sink in. “If you go faster, you’ll get here sooner.”
“I get it. That will give us time to get out before the explosives detonate.”
“Right.”
“But how much time?”
“If I push it to maximum thrust, I calculate you’ll get here around four minutes early.” It occurred to Ursie that she wasn’t sure if it was Heketoro or herself who was speaking through her mouth at that moment. It was certainly his knowledge, his thoughts that were being presented. It was an unnerving sensation.
“So we’d have four minutes to find a way to dispose of the bomb.”
“Do you have any bomb disposal experts with you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then there’s no way to safely get rid of it. Evacuation is the only option.”
“Wait a minute, how do you know all of this? W
ho did you find to help?”
“There’s one other thing,” she said, ignoring the question. “If I push your acceleration to maximum, the OrbitPod will be operating at a speed that’s in excess of its design specifications. Well in excess. So much so that I can’t guarantee it won’t break up, become untethered from the Wire, or worse.”
“Worse? What could be worse than becoming untethered from the Wire?”
“Good point.”
There was a pause. “Uh, if you’re asking whether I want to go ahead or not, the answer is yes. I don’t see another option.”
At Ursie’s behest, Heck began to increase the acceleration.
“Okay, I’m going ahead with it. I’m not sure what this is going to do to comms, but I’ll keep in touch if I can.”
“Thanks.”
“Godspeed.”
Godspeed? she thought incredulously. Did I just say that? Or was that Heketoro talking through me?
As Knile hung up, she could already hear the sound of vibrations coming through from the OrbitPod as the speed ramped up.
Knile began to regret his decision to agree to Ursie’s plan almost immediately.
The acceleration of the railcar was abrupt and entirely disconcerting. Knile felt his stomach drop with such suddenness that he thought it might hit the floor, and the compartment around him began to wobble and rattle loudly. From further within the railcar came the sound of shrieking metal, then a series of bone-jarring bangs. There was a tearing sound, and then Knile watched with horror as several thin strips of metal broke away from the exterior of the vehicle and spun away into space.
Let’s hope that wasn’t the life support module, he thought with grim humour.
In the back of his mind, an even greater concern was clawing at him. Even if he, Holger and the others escaped the habitat, what would become of Talia and Roman? With the habitat destroyed, there would be no way for them to ever leave Earth. Wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of what he was doing? Hadn’t he vowed to leave the planet with the two of them by his side?
How hollow would it feel to survive the destruction of the habitat, only to know that he had failed them?
Think. There has to be a way to save the habitat.
The railcar began to shake even more, and now Knile became certain that it would break apart within minutes, if not seconds. He couldn’t imagine they would last any longer than that.
“Hang-g-g in th-there,” he told the others through his comms, but there was no response.
He glanced down at his wristwatch. It was difficult to stop his hand from vibrating and bouncing long enough to read it, but finally he succeeded.
Twenty-four minutes to go.
44
Ursie settled into an odd reality that was half-way between Heketoro’s consciousness and her own. She was still partially aware of her own body, her own senses, yet at the same time she felt as though she were thinking and acting as Heck. She could feel the warmth of his neck on her fingers, and at the same time she could sense the contact from Heck’s perspective; cool fingers resting against her skin.
As minutes passed, she became lost in the data feed. She and Heck observed the parameters that were being transmitted from the OrbitPod, increasing a variable here and turning one down there in an attempt to stabilise the vehicle. Alarms were going off everywhere. The override had been engaged in order to push the OrbitPod past its limits, and as a result, the console before her lit up like a starfield as one alert after the other tried to attract her attention.
She ignored them all. The OrbitPod could not be allowed to slow down. It had to continue at its breakneck pace at all costs.
Every second was vital.
Linked together, the two of them formed a kind of trance state as they processed the information. All the while, the OrbitPod streaked closer to its destination.
A sound behind her brought Ursie back into her own consciousness with a sudden jolt. She turned to see Tobias standing there, scowling.
She realised he’d been saying something to her, but she’d been so lost inside Heck’s mind that she hadn’t heard him.
“What?” she said, her voice cracking. Her mouth and throat were incredibly dry, a fact she had been unaware of until now.
“Let him go. Let Heck go.”
Shocked at the gruffness of his tone, Ursie did as she was told. As her fingers lifted away from his neck, Heketoro dropped to the floor like a wet bag of cement. He lay there, blinking rapidly for a few moments, and then Tobias reached down and helped him to his feet.
“What happened?” Heck said, obviously confused. He glanced at the two of them, then around at the control room. “What’s going on?”
“Evacuation,” Tobias said. “We’re getting out of here.” He handed Heck a large silver key with a rounded head. “Head on down to the evacuation modules. I’ve padlocked the door of the…” He scratched at his face, confused. “Darn it, which one was it?”
Ursie stared at him. “Tobias?” she prompted.
Tobias gave a vague waft of his hand. “Just look around. You’ll find it. You can use this here key to open it.”
Ursie looked back at the control terminal, and saw that the OrbitPod was due to arrive in less than three minutes. She was shocked. She and Heck had been in that trance-like state for far longer than she’d realised.
“If we’re not there in five minutes,” she said to Heck, “just leave without us. Okay?”
“Uh, okay,” Heketoro was saying, still dazed. He looked stupidly at the key in his palm.
“Heck!” Tobias shouted, giving him a slap on the cheek. “Go, will ya?”
Heketoro reeled away, surprised by the blow, then stumbled away and began to run. In moments he had disappeared from the control room.
“What did you do to him?” Tobias demanded, rounding on Ursie. “Why is he like that?” Ursie began to stammer a reply, but he waved at her dismissively. “Bah, what’s it matter? We don’t have time for this. Come on. We need to go see this friend of yours.”
Ursie glanced back at the terminal. Through Heketoro’s knowledge of the system, she knew that the OrbitPod would slow and then dock itself through an automated process. There was no need for her to hang around.
She’d done what she could.
She fell in behind Tobias as he headed for the door.
The shaking and rattling inside Knile’s compartment seemed to go on forever, and more than once it became so bad that he thought the railcar must surely have come free from its mounts and was now tumbling out into the blackness of space.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered how it would feel to burn up in reentry, trapped inside the railcar as he was roasted alive.
Don’t worry Knile, he consoled himself. You’ll die of asphyxiation long before you have the chance to experience death by fireball.
At some point, he stopped checking his watch. There was no point. For a start, he couldn’t read it properly due to the shaking. Second, it didn’t really help to know how far away they were from their destination. He was a passenger on this ride, a helpless bystander until the railcar came to a halt. Until then he could only sit tight and bide his time.
Another calamitous jolt hit the vehicle, and then Knile felt himself float upward against his seat harness as the momentum of the railcar began to slow. He struggled forward and was able to finally look upward through the perspex bubble.
Something large and shiny was closing in on them at a rapid pace. The habitat.
“Almost there,” he said, even though he was unsure anyone could hear him through his comms. “Get ready to–”
Something caught his eye to the side, and he looked just in time to see one of the compartments explode outward. The railcar rocked again as fragments of perspex and a tumultuous cloud of gas erupted into space, and as it cleared, Knile saw something else.
Aron Lazarus hung there, one massive hand wrapped around his seat harness, clinging on for dear life as his momentum sought to carry
him outward along with the rest of the debris.
The crazy bastard! He bashed his way out.
“Lazarus, what the fuck are you doing?” he bellowed. “You’re going to die out there!”
Lazarus bunched the muscles in his arm, swinging himself adroitly back toward the bulk of the railcar. He took a firm grip of the hull, then let go of the harness altogether.
“Lazarus–”
Knile stopped himself, realising the awful truth. There was no point trying to save the Redman. Not now. With no way to get back inside the railcar, he was going to die no matter what.
For his part, Lazarus seemed unfazed by his predicament as he climbed across from one compartment to the next. There was a slight scowl on his face, a determined glint in his eye, but no panic. No fear. He slid around a bulge in the hull, then dragged himself across the front of Knile’s compartment. He glanced inward once, meeting Knile’s eyes, but there was no emotion there. No farewell, no sense of sadness or regret. Then, as quickly as he had approached, he moved on. In moments he reached the cargo bays, then stopped. He took a firm grip with one hand, then seemed to set himself.
Knile finally realised what he was doing. This wasn’t some kind of misguided attempt at suicide.
He was trying to reach the explosives.
Lazarus began to wrench on the handle of the cargo bay, straining and pulling with all his might, but he seemed to make little headway. He shifted his body and then began to use both hands at once, the cords in his neck standing out like iron rods. Knile could see the sweat on his arms already turning to ice crystals, lending an odd sheen to his skin.
Lazarus drew back one of his fists and then slammed it forward into the cargo bay door. As he drew it back for the second time, Knile could see that it was covered in blood. He wasn’t holding back. The next blow was just as powerful as the first, sending a jolt along his arm as his knuckles impacted the steel. He rained blow after blow on the door, teeth gritted, but there was no way for Knile to tell whether he was having any effect on his target.
Knile looked up again, and now the habitat was perilously close.
Skybreach (The Reach #3) Page 33
