by Nick Travers
Chapter 11
I lash out in defense and receive a sharp slap across the face for my efforts.
“Something terrible has happened, Nina.” It’s Izzy.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “I know, I was there. An explosion. The place is on fire.”
“Forget that,” Fernando says, “Borker nearly caught us.”
“And McGraw,” Izzy adds. “Here on the Western Hub. They’re after us.”
I can’t believe these two aren’t more worried about the fire, but maybe they don’t realize how bad it is. “I know, I bumped into them.” Literally. “We’ve got to leave, guys. Right now!”
I start to go, but Fernando drags me in a different direction. “The steps are this way, Nina.”
As we fight our way through the crowds to the second level, a terrific explosion, much bigger than the first, rocks the entire platform. The post hub collapses on one side, leaving us dangling over an abyss of nothingness. I grab the railings frantically. As I clutch the balustrade, someone clings to my leg—Izzy, trying to steady herself against the bucking steps. If I move she will slide into oblivion. We all hang on, desperately, until the swaying subsides, then scramble to safety. Some of the supporting cables must have parted.
A post packet, its gondola on fire, its blimp perforated by flying splinters, plunges past. It has taken the full force of the second explosion. Suddenly, I feel grateful our ship is moored on the lower levels, though she is still in grave danger and so are we.
The Shonti Bloom desperately needs to leave before the whole post hub goes down in flames. The steps lurch again, to an even steeper angle—maybe more cables have parted or some of the supporting hydrogen balloons have exploded. We scramble down to the next level through a shower of burning sparks. It must be hell on the top deck.
The residential decks are in uproar, sparks have ignited fires here too. Marshalls are pumping hot air into balloons on the meagre supply of life rafts. “Women and children first.” Fights are breaking out around the emergency lockers as people realize there are nowhere near enough back up parachutes for everyone. Emergency teams and rescue crews charge in all directions forcing us off the steps
We cling to anything to prevent us sliding off the canting crowded deck.
Izzy slides towards me. “Shouldn’t we help?”
“No. Save the Shonti Bloom!” I order. This is way beyond the ability of one person to make a difference. I spot a gap and struggle down the next set of steps.
The platform lurches in the opposite direction as we hit the lowest level. Then it rights itself—the rescue teams must have released more hydrogen balloons to stabilize the structure.
There’s the Shonti Bloom swaying at a drunken angle, tangled in its mooring ropes, but otherwise intact.
Scud is already cutting mooring ropes. “What’s going on, Nina?”
I wave the others away as they leap to explain. “Later, just keep cutting!” I make a note to fill everyone in once we were safe.
The Shonti Bloom is soon righted and we scramble aboard, leaving Scud with the last mooring rope.
The ship is deserted. “Where’s Trent?” No one knows. “Then we wait!”
Fernando grabs a telescope and searches through the stricken post hub. “I see him,” he calls eventually. “Two stories up, hanging from the steps.”
I follow his pointing arm with my own telescope. Every deck is alight now. Through the billowing smoke, I see people still fighting the fires. Then I spy Trent hanging onto a set of steps by one hand. Even as I focus on him, he swings back onto the steps, scrambles down, and disappears into the smoke.
“He’ll never make it,” Fernando gasps, as more burning debris rains down around the Shonti Bloom.
A Sergeant at arms runs past. “Abandon the platform! Abandon the platform! She’s going down.” As if in answer, the platform lurches again, and starts to lose altitude. A crowd of desperate people run towards us. “Help. Save us. Take us with you.”
Fernando grabs up a boarding hook, ready to fend people away. “Cast off!” He orders Scud who is still on the dockside.
“Belay that, Scud,” I bellow, furious with Fernando. “We’re taking these people with us.”
Fernando ignores me and strides across the deck. “Then I’ll do it myself. You’ll kill us all Nina.”
I race Fernando to the gangplank, swing my fist, and punch him to the deck. The satisfaction of seeing him stagger to one knee only partly dulls the pain in my fist, which burns like fire, but I can think of no other way to stop him. My great fear is of Izzy taking Fernando’s side. Scud I know I can always count on, but which way will Izzy veer in a mutiny? I need to know.
I stare directly at Izzy; time to assert my authority. “While I’m Captain, we do things my way,” I yell. “We look after our own. We don’t leave anyone behind. And if we’re forced to, we go back for them. If you can’t live with that,” I snarl as Fernando struggles to his feet, “then get off my ship.”
Izzy looks from me to Fernando and back again. She purses her lips and nods her head slowly. She has decided, but what has she decided?
