Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4) (31 page)

Talia looked behind them, where the corridor had been
quickly swallowed by darkness.  She couldn’t deny that she was unnerved, expecting something to jump out at them from a shadowy corner at any moment.  The foreboding in the place was almost palpable.

Something wasn’t right here.

“Wait a minute,” Kolos said, and he abruptly disappeared down a side corridor.  Talia brought out her holophone, and the light from its display fell across the walls around them; a meagre substitute for the flashlight.

“What’s he doing?” Talia hissed.

Norrey merely shook his head.  They waited, and now Talia could hear thumping and clicking noises not far away.  A few moments later, a soft ambient light filled the corridor, not much brighter than a candle.

“How’s that look?” came Kolos’ voice.

“Better,” Norrey called back.

A few moments
later, Kolos returned.  “It looks like they were using a fusion core to power the place.  There’s still some residual charge, but I’m not sure how long it will last.”

“Better than nothing,” Norrey said.  “It’ll do for now.”

They kept going, moving through more nondescript rooms that seemed to have no purpose.  Further along they found dishevelled rags on the floor, along with more of the crude paintings that they had seen outside.

“Someone’s been sleeping here,” Norrey said.

“Seems that way,” Talia said.

“So where are they now?” Roman said, glancing around.  “Hiding in the dark?”

“Let’s keep looking,” Norrey said, and he stepped around the rags and continued on.

“Wait,” Kolos said calmly.  He pointed up to the ceiling, where exposed wires ran along the ceiling, terminating at what looked like a wad of grey plasticine.  “Another surprise.”

“More explosives,” Norrey muttered.

“Goddammit,” Talia said.  “Another minefield?”

“No,” Kolos said.  He followed the wires along to where they terminated at a switch on the wall, the handle of which was bound by flaking bits of gaffer tape.  “This one is activated manually.”

“What for?” Roman said.

“Probably a defensive mechanism in case the place is overrun,” Norrey said. 
“They could throw the switch and kill whoever was coming through the corridor.”

Talia examined the tape.  “This is brittle.  Old.  Hasn’t been touched in a long time, I’d say.”

“Let’s leave it that way,” Norrey said.  “Come on.”

Along the next corridor, the odour that permeated the building seemed to intensify.  The walls and floors were covered in more graffiti, and the words that accompanied the images became nonsensical, unreadable.  It was like witnessing a slow descent into madness, manifested in every surface of Sunspire’s interior.

“Right about now,” Roman said, “the Reach doesn’t seem like such a bad place.”

“Be quiet,” Norrey said curtly.  “I thought I heard something.”

Talia strained to listen in the ensuing silence, and thought that maybe she could hear the rumble of thunder and perhaps even rain.

There was nothing else.

She opened her mouth.  “I don’t–”

“There’s something in the next room,” Kolos said, directing the flashlight ahead of them.

“What is it?” Roman said, his voice taut.

Norrey simply held up one hand, indicating for them to wait, and then he and Kolos worked their way up the corridor.  The
y
made it to the next room, then halted, conferring over something.  Kolos kept going, disappearing from view, and Norrey raised his rifle to his shoulder.

“Norrey?” Talia said, but the bodyguard offered no response.  Norrey remained in that position for ten, perhaps twenty seconds, although to Talia it seemed much longer.

“Clear?” he said, and Kolos muttered something in return.  Finally he turned back to them.  “We’ve found your ghosts,” he said.

37

Behind the perspex doors, the three space suits sat waiting.

Knile kept looking from one to the next, trying to figure out which one to choose.  The most striking difference between them, obviously, was the colour: white, grey and dark orange.  Aside from that, the differences seemed minimal.  There were some extra gauges here and there, some discrepancies in the clips, and the orange suit had a camera mounted on the side of the helmet.

Aside from that, they were indistinguishable.

Why am I wasting my time with this?
Knile thought irritably. 
As if I know the first thing about space suits.  Just choose one!

He reached out and opened the door to the first suit, the white one.

“Why that one?” Ursie said behind him.

“Because I look good in white,” Knile said.  “Or haven’t you noticed?”

“Come on, seriously.”

“I don’t know, Ursie.  I’m taking a stab in the dark here.”  He turned back to Lazarus.  “Are you sure you can’t offer any advice on this?”

The Redman eyed the suits carefully.  “As I said, I received moderate training in extra-vehicular activity during my days at the Citadel, as did all of my brothers.  There are missions where the Crimson Shield must enter the vacuum of space, at least in the Outworlds.”  He shook his head.  “But the equipment that I used did not look like this.  It was developed specifically for the Crimson Shield.”

“So, we’re all in the dark about this,” Knile said, fumbling with the catches on the netting that secured the suit against the wall.  “I’m making an executive decision and taking the white one.”

“In all likelihood, the differences are negligible,” Lazarus said.  “They may have been designed for differing technical specialities, but they all perform the most basic function – protecting you from the void.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Knile said.  He grunted, struggling with the catch, then took the bone shiv from his belt and simply sliced the netting away.  “Give me a hand getting into this thing.”

The next several minutes were spent trying to figure out exactly how to accomplish that feat, and after a couple of failed attempts, Knile eventually found himself suited up, minus the helmet, which Ursie held in her hands as Lazarus ran a check over the suit.

“I still don’t know why you’re going out there when your friend is the one trained to do stuff like this,” she said.

“Simple,” Knile said.  “There are no suits that fit Lazarus.  Besides, he’s in a weakened state–”

“I am not
weak
,” Lazarus grated, towering over him.

“I said you are
weakened
.  Not at your full strength.”

“He didn’t need a suit last time he went out,” Ursie persisted.

“You mean back at the Wire
?” Knile said.  “He was only out for barely a minute, and that almost killed him.”

“It was nothing,” Lazarus said.  “I slept it off as if it were nothing more than a hangover.”

Ursie made a disparaging sound in the back of her throat, but a glare from Knile stifled her retort.

“Oxygen gauge is flat empty,” Tobias said, pointing to an indicator on Knile’s wrist.  “That ain’t good.”

“But there will be air in the suit, right?” Knile said.  “There should be enough for a few minutes.”

“It does not work exactly that way,” Lazarus said.  “Breathable air is only one part of the equation.  You will also need pressure within the suit, otherwise your very blood will begin to boil out there.”

“Like what almost happened to you?” Knile said.

Lazarus gave a little nod, then pointed to a connector on the belly of the suit.

“Perhaps there will be a device we can insert here.”

“If not, I’m just going to have to work fast,” Knile said.  “Let’s get moving.”

Ursie held out the helmet for Lazarus to take, but the Redman simply glared at her, making no attempt to take it from her.  She sighed and stepped forward, reaching up to place the helmet on Knile’s head.

“You’re either the bravest bastard I know, or just the dumbest.”

He smiled.  “Or maybe both.”

Lazarus accompanied Knile out to the airlock while Urise and Tobias returned to transit control.  The suit was cumbersome and heavy, like wearing an extra five sets of clothing, and it took him a few strides to gain his balance.  Eventually he began to get the hang of it.  The space around them narrowed until they found themselves in a small, circular conduit.  A closed compartment lay before them – the airlock itself.

A window on its exterior looked out upon the blackness of space.

“This is it,” Knile said, taking a deep breath.

Lazarus moved past Knile, to where a white hose dangled from a hole in the wall.  He gave it a tug, then began to draw it outward.

“Here, an umbilical has been spooled within the airlock,” he said.  “Attach it to your suit.”

Knile did as he suggested, clipping the hose into the connector on his belly.  He reached out for a panel on the wall and soon found the initiation sequence for the umbilical.  Moments later, cool air began to flood his suit.

“It’s working.  I can feel it coming in.  Let’s just hope this suit doesn’t have any holes in it,” he said wryly.

“If it does, you will surely perish.”

Knile gave Lazarus a flat stare.  “Yes, I know.  That was my point.”

They watched the gauge increase until it reached a yellow mark on the dial, then it seemed to level off.  The suit didn’t feel terribly different now to
how it had before, but Knile figured he just had to trust in the equipment.

“It will take some time to become accustomed to the sensation out there,” Lazarus cautioned.

“I don’t have time.”

“Make slow, deliberate movements.  Keep a grip on an anchor point at all times.”

Knile grinned.  “Why, Lazarus,” he said, slapping the Redman on the shoulder.  “I didn’t know you cared.”

“You are a good man, Knile Oberend.  I would take no joy in seeing your internal organs liquified.”

Knile raised an eyebrow.  “Comforting.”  He turned away.  “Enough of the pep talk.  Let’s do this.”

Lazarus exited the airlock and closed the door behind him.  There was a hiss of air escaping from the chamber, but after a few moments it ceased.  Suddenly there was no noise, no movement.  Knile almost felt as though he were already in space.

He took a deep breath, then hit the button for the outer door.

Knile saw a lock disengage, but heard no noise.  Then the door slid open, revealing the void outside.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and then the spectacle before him came into full view.

The stars were
so
bright.  So much more brilliant than they were when seen from Earth, under the pall of smog and toxic fumes.  Set against the curtain of blackness, they were positively dazzling.  As Knile moved forward, Earth itself came into view, half covered in night, a shining crescent of blue and orange.  Once again Knile was struck by how much more beautiful it seemed from up here, how the ruin and decay melt
ed away with distance.

Remember what you’ve got to do
, he told himself.

He left the airlock, carefully trailing the umbilical in his wake.  Above, the edge of the railcar hung ominously overhead.  Now that he was closer, Knile could see that this vehicle was somewhat sleeker and more aerodynamic than its counterpart over at the Reach had been, but on the whole it used a similar design – modular and functional.

He took no further time for sightseeing, instead getting on with the task of climbing outside the habitat.

As Lazarus had suggested, moving around in the suit took some getting used to.  He felt incredibly floaty, disconnected, and out of control.  Trying not to panic, he kept moving one hand after the next, gripping each handhold that presented itself as he moved to the top of the railcar.

Soon he was there, looking up at the space elevator, a silver conduit that disappeared into the planet high above.

Not far away, he could also see the locking mechanism.  He was almost there.

“Knile, we can see you,”
came U
rsie’s voice in his helmet.  She must have figured out how to use the comms.

Glancing around, he saw the vague outline of her face in the transit control window.

“Yeah,” he said, surprised by how breathless he sounded.  “Almost there.”

He worked his way across the bulk of the railcar, stopping several times to find the next handhold, then finally reached the locking mechanism.

On the housing was a circular handle set into the metal, surrounded by black and gold striped hazard markings.  Without wasting any time, he reached in and began to turn it in a counterclockwise direction.

“I’m at the lock.  Trying to disengage it now.”

“Be careful.”

He completed a full revolution, then took a moment to catch his breath.  He had almost completed a second turn when the enclosure sprung open.