Kraken Orbital (3 page)

Kolt must
have thought the same. He has loaded up a bunch of supplies and has
collected a lot of water from the sprinkler system that saved my
life and the bridge itself
from fire.
He’s resourceful. I’d never have thought of that. I remember lying
in pools of water when I first came to. They’ve gone now. He must
have soaked it all up using that cold compress. Then rung it dry,
squeezing the water into bottles, all with his bare hands while I
was unconscious.

‘What time is it?’ I ask him.

‘I’m not
certain.’ But he is ready to go. He lifts the sizeable backpack of
supplies onto his shoulders and stands waiting for me by the heavy
blast doors that lead to the outside world. I don’t even know where
he’s thinking of going. I don’t know even why he has been walking
for so long.

‘
Night has
fallen. That is the best time for us to make a start on our
journey.’ He says while waiting for me patiently by the door. I
didn’t notice how tall he was before. It was hard to tell from
where I was laid out on the floor. He reaches an impressive eight
foot at least. He isn’t wearing armor either. I can see his muscles
through that silly uniform of his. He is built like a formidable
tank. I hope I never end up on the wrong side of him.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask him and pace
gently over to the door. My hand falls naturally into my pocket.
I’m looking for the key card that I used before. It’s not there. We
had been planning to get out right after the fire was doused but me
passing out put a swift stop to that.

‘I have it.’ Kolt says, remembering himself,
and takes it from a pocket concealed behind his caked leather
apron. ‘I remember that my ship has communication technology on
it.’ He answers my question and holds the card to the instrument
panel. It beeps irregularly and the door twists into life. It is
still broken. It squeals and sparks fly but it gradually begins to
open with a horrible grinding sound.

‘Then why
didn’t you use it to call for help yourself?’ I ask him without
calculating my words. I still find him a little edgy and I should
have thought twice about how I asked him. Not that my question
isn’t a valid one. I could have predicted his answer
though.

‘I do not know.’ He states. The frustration
he feels leaks out through the tone of his voice but he keeps his
composure. I want to push the issue so bad. My inquisitiveness is
burning and I just have to know. If I’m supposed to trust this man,
then surely, I tell myself, that I deserve to know something about
him.

‘You don’t
remember?’ I p
ut a lot of effort into
that question. I made sure that I sounded as empathic and
sympathetic as humanly possible. I made sure there wasn’t even a
scrap of sarcasm in there.

‘
After the
fire
I just remember walking, dazed,
confused, isolated and feeling more alone than any man has ever
felt before me. The thought of seeking rescue had not occurred to
me. And still does not.’ The door finally, after scraping and
howling, finally gives way in a burst of sparks and opens. Kolt
hands the key back to me.
Was
that a gesture of trust?
Night has
completely fallen and the first thing that hits me is the sight of
my rig burning in the foreground.

It has sunk
further into the soft dunes and is burning with rich black smoke
pumping out into the atmosphere of this strange world. The frame
has sunk far below my eye level, and I can only just make out the
drill mechanism and flat platform. Warning lights still work on the
metal frame. They are washing the desert in eerie blues and reds. I
try hard not to let my disappointment show. It was a terrible idea
anyway.
Luckily the bridge-come escape
pod that has kept us safe all day hasn’t sunk any at all. It can’t
weigh much.

Offensive
sulphuric smells fill
the cold night air of the desert. I want to breathe in deep and
hard to fill my lungs and try to make my head feel better. The
putrid smell makes that a poor choice. I breathe regularly, but
deeper and deeper with each intake, to try and get used to the
horrible scent.

I want to
watch it some more. I want to watch it burn and remember my old
life as a modern
-day slave working for
that evil company. I want to see the whole frame sink and try to
use that image to lie to myself and say that it was the final
chapter. Say that it’s over. But Kolt has other ideas. He strides
out into the desert and turns immediately to his right. He
obviously has a plan and a route worked out in his mind.

I’ve ignored
him. I ignored what he said. That the thought of being rescued had
never entered his mind. And that it still doesn’t. My over active
mind wants to tear into it and try to figure out
what he meant. But the conscious and, at this time, more
powerful side of my brain is afraid of the answer.
Why would he have not thought to seek
rescue?

We walk in silence well into the night. I
can’t help but to glance back every now and again to the
disappearing sight of my burning past, and coincidentally, my
burning future too.

The
consistency of the sand does not stay the same. For a while I can
feel my feet sink into the sharp, fine
and grainy sand in the dunes. But then for another few
minutes it feels like I’m walking on hard bedrock. It’s too dark to
see where my feet are going. All I have are the stars above. I
can’t help but to admire them though.

I’ve never
seen so many of them all lit up like this. There are, literally,
millions of them. The optimistic part of me, buried deep as it
might be, can’t help but think
its one
small good thing to come out of this crap day. Some of them twinkle
and dance across the blackened sky. I can make out a few
constellations too, but in far more glorious detail than I’m used
to. I can see Taurus and I can make out Orion’s belt in dazzling
detail. The third “star” on the belt is in fact a galaxy of stars
and not just one. For the first time since hearing that, I can
actually make out the other stars in it. It helps to be this far
from Earth too. On the edge of space. On the edge of knowledge and
on the cusp of new discovery.

I’m enjoying
being in my own mind for once. I’m enjoying being able to think. I
can push the miserable thought of my working life into the back of
my mind and let my own thoughts come forward. It’s surely an odd
feeling though. I’ve been a
part, a small
part but still a part, of a crappy organization that actively
discourages anything individual for so long that I had forgotten I
had a thought chain of my own. I can think about the stars. I can
think about things like that and not about where the next beating
is going to come from. Or when the next time I’m going to be told
I’m no good or that I’m a waste of space is going to be.

Is
it because he thinks there is no chance of rescue?
The first question ignites in my mind. Just like
I knew it was going to. Maybe that was why Kolt didn’t think to
seek rescue. Maybe he knows more about this planet than I do and he
knows in his heart that he has no chance of getting off it alive.
My heart sinks a little and I can feel the nervousness in the pit
of my stomach when I think about it. I don’t even know why. This
was supposed to be a last ditch attempt at a life on my part too. I
have nothing to go back to. And noting to move on to either. I need
to let go. I came here prepared to die. And I should stay like
that. It’s not a bad way to live. Just in a moment and not striving
for something or pining for something else.
Maybe it’s more than that.

We’ve been
walking for about two hours. I’ve been enjoying it. The silence.
Letting someone else take the reins and lead the way. It’s been
peaceful. But Kolt needs to stop. I can hear him breathing hard
over his shoulder. The effort of pulling air in through the
breathing apparatus that has become welded to his face must be
tremendous. He doesn’t just breathe
in;
he has to pull air in with a powerful tensing of his diaphragm. I
leap forward a few paces, nearly tripping in the soft sand as I do,
and tap him hard on the shoulder. He turns a little startled. But
with those eyes, who would have been able to tell? He says nothing.
Just glares at me.

‘We should stop for the night?’ I almost have
to ask him. Who put this guy in charge anyway? I should have been
way more assertive and just told him. He drops the backpack and
then falls to the floor knees first. He must be exhausted.

‘You should
get a drink.’ I tell him, more sternly this time too.
How does he drink?
He can’t get fluid past the gas mask vents. He nods though
and starts rummaging in the backpack. There were four full bottles
of water from the puddles on the bridge. I want to ask him. I
really want to. But I decide its best to just watch him
instead.

He takes out
a bottle and tips it upside down. He takes, without needing to look
for it, a set of two needles from his apron pocket. They are
conne
cted with a rather thick transparent
rubber tube. He stabs one end into the bottle cap and then rolls up
his sleeve. His arm is covered in scars and holes. Dried blood is
crusted over his milky white flesh. He looks like a heroin addict.
He must have to drink, and presumably eat, intravenously. He taps
his arm hard with two closed fingers a few times until a thick vein
pops up. He then stabs the needle into the vessel and lies back
still panting to draw in breath.

‘Are you alright?’ I ask him. That was out of
my nature. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I was a nice guy before I
started working for those guys. I can’t even remember. I can’t see
past my hardened heart. At any rate, he doesn’t reply. He is too
tired and out of steam.

I look around
the dunes. We have unintentionally stopped in a pit. Dunes of soft
flaky sand line every side. The wind has picked up a little. It
isn’t anything b
rutal just yet but it
could still make a night in the exposed cold a little less
comfortable. It whips past the higher dunes and blows sand, in a
whirlwind pattern off the edges and into the air. It makes no noise
and it’s nice to look at. The dip in the dunes will have to be
where we camp for the night. I take another of the bottles and take
a long drink. I have been thirsty for miles but I was too happy in
my own head, entertaining my own thoughts, to spark up any
positional conversation by asking for a drink. I sit down on the
soft sand beside Kolt.

I can see his
chest heaving with each strained breath. I wish I could help him.
But I can’t exactly pry that mask off of him. Over the next few
minutes his breathing rate calms and half
of his bottle is gone. He rips out the cord and stands the
bottle upright. He rolls over and pulls himself to sit
up.

‘You want to
know why I did not even think to seek rescue.’ It didn’t take much
emotional intelligence to read my thoughts. I thought I might have
been harder to read than that but clearly not.

‘Yes.’ I
swing a one word answer at him, hoping that it would prompt him for
more information.

‘
I feel
lost.’ He replies equally as cryptically. ‘I did not seek rescue
because I do not desire rescue.’ Those two statements did not
seem
compatible. ‘I like the feeling of
being lost you see?’ I don’t know if I’m even supposed to reply to
that. I don’t get it though. I decide to ask my questions down a
different line though.

‘Then where are you leading me?’ I remember
just now how nervous the guy makes me. I had been lost in my own
thoughts for too long and hadn’t really been thinking about
him.

‘
You
do seek rescue.’ He states
rather than asks.

‘Do I?’ I shoot back. I don’t disagree with
him. It was just for the sake of an argument.

‘Yes. You
have life still in your eyes and this is not your fate.’ He states
categorically. Maybe he thinks he is some kind of spiritual. Or is
it just his poor English? I drop my eyes. It’s still difficult to
look at him. That fire must have affected his eyes somehow. I’ve
still not seen him moisten them and they are still red and
bloodshot all over. Not a drop of white left in them. I just watch
the sand wash around my feet in the wind for a while. It’s golden
colored, untouched, and very beautiful. He is right though. I don’t
want to die. I’m not ready. If I had been I wouldn’t have tried so
hard to get out of the horrible situation I was in before. Maybe
there is something out there for me still. Strange how Kolt knew it
and I didn’t.

For the first time in a while I’m starting to
feel tired. It will feel odd to drift off to sleep unprompted, and
not have to wake up to a hellish blaring siren and a smack around
the face from a brutish “manager” come slave whip enforcer. I don’t
care how cold it is. Kolt said he had walked for days. That might
have meant actual days, like two or three, or it might have meant
weeks, stretching further to months! He told me he hadn’t kept
track and he doesn’t seem all that switched on. He really is lost.
I could be in for one Hell of a journey. But I’ll find out in the
morning.

Chapter 3

The Long Road Ahead

I awoke, not
to the regular beating I was used to, but to a burning sensation on
my back. Lucky I had kept my armor on to keep the cold out. That
sun would have burned me crispy if not. It has risen high in the
sky before I wake up to its belting heat. I woke up unsettled a few
times in the night. It had been really cold, not unlike the deserts
on Earth, in the hours of darkness.