by Philip Hamm
Down in the airlock, Gader was ready with his vacuum suit. “Have you worn one before?” he asked.
“Only in the Kyzylagash and I couldn’t walk very far...”
“There doesn’t seem to be much gravity on the Kyzyl Mazhalyk; you should be able to move around easily.”
Over the fleece, he put on the heavy-duty vacuum suit with its fitted boots and gloves. Gader closed the seals carefully. He put on the thigh armour and then the greaves. There were vambraces for his lower arms, couters for his elbows and pauldrons for his shoulders. They struggled but managed to get the breastplate in place and then put the gorget over his head.
“How does it feel?” Gader asked.
“Heavy,” Narikin replied. He put the strap of his camera over his head and hung it from his neck. “But I’m okay, so far.”
Gader lifted the inner helmet, with the air filter and the transparent dome, and positioned it on the neck-ring of the suit, clipped it into place. He peered at Narikin, his voice muffled by the thick crystal, “Can you breathe?”
“Yes - I’m ready.”
Gader carried the outer helmet, with its decorative wings and lobster-tail protection. “We’ll put it on when you get to the boat; I don’t want you falling over your feet and breaking a leg before you’ve even left the ship.”
Awkwardly, Narikin stepped out of the airlock and onto the loading platform. The weight was tremendous and he could feel his knees burning with the effort.
Quassin was back from the Kyzyl Mazhalyk and waiting in the boat with the two warriors. Danaide had already climbed out and was taking off his helmet. “Don’t worry about bodies,” he said as Narikin waddled across the deck towards them. “Whatever wasn’t made of metal has been vaporised.”
It was a small comfort but Narikin admitted the thought had been bothering him.
He negotiated the side of the boat and Quassin helped him. Gader put the helmet on his head, “Good luck,” he said.
“This won’t take very long,” the Sword Master promised. “There’s very little to see.”
The boat rose from the platform and travelled along the side of the Kyzyl Kum, level with the bridge. Narikin caught a glimpse of his cousin standing, watching them, behind the thick glass. Then they were out beyond the prow and into the volume between the two ships. They ploughed through fragments of metal and glass, leaving an empty trail behind them.
The dead ship filled his view and Narikin could see the terrible damage inflicted on the hull. It was as though she was made from wood rather than iron and steel; the metal plates were peeling off like bark and her back was broken in three places. Great gashes exposed the decks inside.
As they turned the corner towards the stern, he could see the rear loading ramp was gone, leaving a huge empty hole. The warrior at the front pointed the searchlight into the interior. There should have been a wall between the hangar and the rest of the ship but it was gone. None of the internal bulkheads had survived except for a few plates hanging in the vacuum. On their right, parts of a staircase still stood, twisted and bent out of shape. Ducts and pipes, torn from the walls, floated like cobwebs in the empty spaces. But most of the interior was missing, just as Danaide had said; melted or blown out of the hull by the force of a blast.
Some gravity remained; it seemed a handful of the Exarch disks still functioned. Girders and beams lay on the deck rather floated among the frozen gasses.
“The captain would like physical evidence as well,” said Narikin, preparing his camera.
“We’ll collect some pieces of metal,” said Quassin.
The warrior at the controls brought the boat down onto what remained of the floor of the hangar and adjusted the field until they were exposed to the vacuum.
The bubble collapsed and the air from the boat created a fog of vapour around them that spread out quickly and disturbed the litter inside the hull.
“Sonoba, stay with the boat,” said Quassin to the pilot. “Renshi, come with us.”
Narikin stood up and found he could move easily. In the low gravity, the weight of the suit was negligible. It was one less trauma to worry about, he thought. He took a picture of the hangar. The gloves made it difficult to wind-on the film and he fumbled with the mechanism.
“Be careful,” the lieutenant warned as he stepped off the boat. “This floor looks solid but it’s been weakened by the fire.” He uncoiled a length of rope and attached one end to the boat. “Small movements; there’s less than fraction of normal gravity...”
Clutching his camera, Narikin climbed over the side. Renshi helped him; stopped him from drifting too high. When his feet touched the deck, he could feel the iron disintegrating under them. Though there was no air to carry sound, he imagined it was like walking on broken glass.
He took more pictures. There were strange patterns on the walls, different shades of black and blue, like bruises. When his flash went off, he caught a glimpse of deep reds and saw how the surface of the iron had come away in layers.
They picked their way across the floor. However light his footsteps, Narikin could feel the iron plates flexing under his weight. Quassin pushed away a pipe that was hanging loose from a pillar and it shattered into a million pieces.
Cautiously, they made their way forwards. Circles of yellow light from their torches flicked over the walls as they tried to make sense of the damage.
“I don’t understand why their Exarch field didn’t protect them,” Narikin said. “A plasma bolt would have been deflected and an internal fire, however intense, wouldn’t have caused the disks to fail like this.”
“No,” Quassin agreed. “It’s as though the disks were shut down and then the ship was hit by a high-energy bolt. And yet, there’s still gravity, however weak, that shows they were not switched off completely.”
“And these marks on the walls – what caused them?”
Narikin took another picture and while he was winding on the film, nearly stepped into a hole in the deck. Renshi pulled him back just in time.
They shone their torches into the hole and they could see it went all the way to the bottom. Something heavy had fallen through the fragile decks, perhaps a girder or a solid piece of equipment, smashing its way down until it broke through the underside of the hull. The main Exarch disks were down there. There were others around the ship, especially under the bridge, but these were the ones that should never have failed.
“We need to examine them,” said Quassin. “We need to go down and take a closer look and see if they were deliberately turned off or simply failed because of the intense heat.”
He looked at the staircase but it was too fragile; the steps were loose and canted over at different angles. “Renshi, hold this end of the rope and Narikin and I will drop down through the hole.”
The Kyzyl Kum only had one lower deck but the destroyer had five, which meant the bottom of the ship was a long way down. “Is the rope long enough?” Narikin asked.
Quassin didn’t answer but dropped over the lip of the hole and disappeared slowly, paying out the rope as he went. It was a long wait but eventually he said, “You can come down.”
Narikin put his camera back in its case and tightened the strap across his chest. He knelt beside the drop and put his left leg over the edge. He held onto the rope tightly with one hand while he turned and slid his other leg into the void. His weight pulled him gently into the darkness. The rope slid between his fingers but the low gravity kept him from falling quickly.
He looked down and could see a small pool of light where Quassin was standing, waiting for him. He slid a little faster and tried not to think about the weight of the decks above him. He looked up and saw Renshi peering down.
Then he felt Quassin pulling him away from the hole through the bottom of the ship and his feet made contact with the ground.
“Be careful,” said the Sword Master. “The metal is very brittle.”
He shone his torch around, at the pillars that held the decks up and the bare rib
s of the hull beneath them. Some of the bulkheads were still in position but most of the floor was missing, exposing the armour underneath. The metal was peeling and there were swirls of particles everywhere. Bigger fragments had settled near the disks, drawn by the last flickers of gravity.
Narikin noticed more blue and black marks on the walls. “Like lightning strikes,” he said, taking another picture.
“But what could cause lightning inside a ship?”
Quassin moved towards the nearest disk. “Look where you’re stepping; stay on the ribs and don’t stand on the plates in between.”
Narikin followed him carefully. He could feel the metal giving under his weight and he could see Quassin’s footprints on the surface of the girders ahead of him.
“What could cause steel to turn into nothing stronger than rotten wood?”
“I don’t know,” Quassin admitted. He reached a pillar, moved the loose debris aside and knelt down to examine the Exarch disk. “I’ve never seen anything like this either,” he said.
The disk was eight feet across and shaped like a wheel lying on its side. Around the hub were the cogs and screws that opened and closed the shutters that controlled the field. Inside each compartment, the nicol crystals were arranged in hexagons like a beehive. They should have been shining like an emerald brooch but they were as dull and lifeless as the rest of the ship.
“They’ve shattered,” said the Sword Master. He picked over the shards and splinters.
“There’s almost nothing left of them,” said Narikin. He raised his camera and took several pictures.
“Almost; a few are still intact and must be providing what’s left of the gravity.” He stood up and crossed to the next disk where they found the crystals were equally damaged.
Narikin asked him, “What kind of weapon can shatter nicol crystals?”
“Nothing I’ve seen before,” he replied, taking a bag out of a pocket and filling it with handfuls of fragments.
Narikin held the torch for him so he could see what he was doing. Then he pulled the drawstrings tight and put the bag back in his pocket.
“Let’s leave,” he said. “I don’t think we need to see any more.”
“No,” Narikin agreed, turning back towards the hole and the rope. “I’m sure I can feel the ship moving...”
“I can too – Scarp Rock is pulling her towards it.”
As Quassin’s torch flashed across the floor, Narikin saw something white. “Wait - what’s that?” He made his way over the girders.
“What is it?” said Quassin.
“It looks like an arm,” he replied. He felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped.
It was only the lieutenant, “Impossible,” he said.
The object was a foot long and there was no hand but it definitely ‘arm-shaped’. It had been covered in a sheath of denser material but most of it had broken off to expose the white stuff underneath. Quassin picked it up and Narikin poked it with a gloved finger. As he did so, more of the blackened outer surface dropped away to reveal hollow tubes inside. Despite the condition of the outer layer, the white parts kept their form.
“It does look like an arm,” Quassin agreed.
“I don’t think it’s part of a machine; if you look closely you can see the tubes are like the wicker cages fishermen use for catching eels. This is organic. I’m sure it’s made of chitin.”
“Like an insect...?”
“Yes; the same as the piece of the giant mantis we found on Tenrec.”
“But what’s it doing here?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did it survive in heat that can turn solid metal into charcoal?”
“Maybe it fell into a hole and was protected.”
They sensed a movement in the deck and looked up as a piece of debris floated past them. Then a larger piece fell through the beam of the torch and exploded into ash on the floor. “We’ll discuss it later, when we’re safe,” said the Sword Master, taking a net bag from another pocket and putting the arm inside gently. “Let’s get back to the boat.”
Pieces of the ceiling fluttered past like butterflies. A pillar toppled and broke through the ribs of the ship; the disk turned over and the crystals scattered.
“Hurry,” said Quassin. “I don’t think the Kyzyl Mazhalyk is going to hold together for much longer.”
Narikin slipped and stepped into the space between the beams. The iron gave way under his weight and his foot was nearly caught in the jagged hole. He managed to grab the next girder and pull his centre of gravity over the top before he fell through. Chunks of metal came away in his hands but he got his balance back. He looked through the hole he had made and saw the Scarp Rock beneath. He felt Quassin’s hand on his arm.
“Are you all right?” he asked, pulling him to his feet. “Is your suit intact?”
“Yes; I think so.”
Quassin shone his torch over Narikin’s legs to make sure. “These suits are tough but even the smallest rip can end in death.”
They reached the rope and the Sword Master started to climb while Narikin held it steady. The ragged circle of light looked small and faraway.
The ship was definitely coming apart. A steady stream of particles was falling; bigger chunks were detaching from the beams, picking up speed as they descended and smashing silently into the floor. It was not as dark as it had been; the green light of Evigone was shining through a multitude of new holes like rice-paper dissolving in droplets of rain.
He began to feel a sense of panic rising. He looked up to see how far Quassin had to go but it was difficult to tell from his angle. He saw another pillar begin to topple and then another; a section of the deck above broke away and tipped towards him, hanging on by the smallest thread.
“Narikin,” said Quassin.
He noticed the rope had stopped moving. He looked up and saw the lieutenant had reached the hangar deck and was looking down at him with Renshi standing behind.
“Hold onto the rope; we’re going to pull you up…”
Narikin held tightly and felt his feet leaving the ground. All his weight was on his arms and he could feel the helmet and gorget of the suit pushing down on his shoulders and the breastplate dragging at his torso. He tried to wind his foot around the rope to support his body but he couldn’t get a grip. He felt his hands slipping too.
The piece of deck broke free of its thread and dropped like a cleaver through the bottom of the ship, smashing through the ribs and out into space. In its wake, a slew of smaller fragments hit him like a tornado. A piece hit his faceplate and glanced off his arm, causing him to lose his hold. He managed to catch the rope again, could feel his body swinging and he wanted to scream.
He glanced down; there was nothing between him and Scarp Rock. He heard Quassin calling to Sonoba, asking him to bring the boat nearer but then he told him not to as another deck collapsed, carrying the stairs away; rails, steps and banisters, cascading like a waterfall into the growing pool of light below. It was too dangerous for the boat without its Exarch bubble and Sonoba couldn’t raise it until the others were inside.
Narikin felt hands on his arms and he was pulled up onto the remains of the hangar deck. Renshi was helping him to his feet. The boat was less than fifty feet away but the space between them was very different from when they’d gone below. Sections of the deck were breaking apart and gashes were opening as the plates fell through. A beam, twenty feet long, like a nail driven by a giant hammer, slid past them, followed by a section of the hangar’s ceiling.
“Run,” said Quassin.
The low gravity made it impossible. Narikin put his foot down and sprang forward but then had to wait to make contact with the ground again. The others were heavier and he was getting left behind. He tripped and went forward onto his hands. He used them to pull his body forwards. He used his feet, his knees and his elbows to try and propel himself faster.
“Get in,” he heard Quassin say to Renshi.
Narikin looked up. He was
still at least twenty feet from the boat. He had to jump over a wide gap in the floor but lost his balance and sprawled, rolled onto his back. He twisted over just as another section of the ceiling collapsed.
“Raise the Exarch shield,” said Quassin.
“Wait…” said Narikin. “I can make it…”
He slipped again and fell on his face, legs flailing above him. Then the floor opened up, plates tumbling down, and he fell with them.
He closed his eyes, too shocked to scream, as he passed through the lower decks, riding on the remains of the deck until it punched through the hull and into the void.
When he opened his eyes again, he was floating in space, surrounded by shards and fragments of the ship. He was still kneeling on a deck-plate, like a castaway on a raft.
As far as he could tell, his suit was undamaged but for a horrible moment he thought he’d lost his precious camera. He fumbled for the strap and pulled until the case with the camera safely inside appeared. He sighed with relief.
“Narikin...?”
“I’m okay... I’ve fallen through the bottom of the ship and I’m floating underneath.”
“We’re on our way.”
The Kyzyl Mazhalyk was behind him and he couldn’t turn around but had to face the Scarp Rock. Pieces of the ship were drifting past, too heavy to be drawn back by the crumbling nicol crystals; heading towards the greater gravity of the planetoid. He wondered how long it would take them to reach the rocky surface. If Quassin couldn’t find him, how long would it take him?
This was what his father was hoping for, he thought; a simple accident, nobody to blame but his son, far from any inconvenience to the rest of the clan. A happy conclusion to an unpleasant situation; Titer could become heir and the future of the Karasor would be safe. Except it wouldn’t, of course – not when his father realised Titer was just a bully and not as noble as he thought he was.
Narikin didn’t see them approaching but he felt the tug on the suit and then he was looking up at Quassin from the bottom of the boat. “What took you so long?” he said.
