Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4) (14 page)

“Hey!” she called out to him, the relief in her voice palpable.  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d be back.”

“What?  And miss out on all the fun?” he said.  He locked the cran
k back in place and then dropped easily over the side of the handcar.

“Well, look at that,” Tobias said appreciatively, moving over and running his fingers along the smooth edge of the handcar.  “Where did you find her?”

Knile shrugged.  “It was just sitting in the middle of the tunnel, a couple of hours
’
walk from here.  Had some empty pallets stacked against the wall nearby.  Maybe that was just where someone left it after its last supply run.”

“Might just be,” Tobias said, nodding.

“There’s a control panel on one end, but I couldn’t get it started.”

“Nah,” Tobias said.  “No power.”

“Right.  Luckily there’s a crank that gets it moving with a bit of elbow grease
, just like you said
.”  He lifted his hand and touched gingerly at the blisters that had already formed due to the exertion.  “I doubt I’m going to have any skin left by the time we get to Sunspire, though.”

Tobias dug into his pocket and drew out a pair of sandy-coloured gloves, then tossed them across the flatbed to Knile.

“Here.  Use these.”

Knile took the gloves and pressed the fabric between his fingers.  It was smooth and supple and somehow pleasing to the touch.  He’d never seen anything quite like it.

“What material is this?” he said.

“Deerskin.”

He slipped them on.  The fit was a little loose, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Where’d you get these?”

Tobias shrugged.  “Don’t remember.  Had ’em kicking around forever.”

At that moment there was an abrupt slamming sound in the distance, and the tunnel seemed to sway.  A gust of wind swirled around them, ruffling Ursie’s dishevelled hair about her face.  It died down as quickly as it had come, and then the three of them turned to look at each other.

“That,” Ursie said, pointing a finger behind them, “has been getting louder.”

“Another bulkhead closing, most likely.  The Skywalk is still breaking up,” Knile said.  He moved into action.  “Come on.  Let’s load Lazarus on
to the handcar and get out of here.”

The three of them wrestled with the comatose Redman, dragging him along the floor and then levering him up onto the flatbed.  Tobias collected the container of water and some of the tools from the sweepdrone, then gave it a good-natured thump on the hood.

“You done good, sweepy.  You done real good.  Happy trails.”

The three of them climbed up onto the handcar, and Knile twisted a handle next to the crank, effectively reversing the direction in which it would travel.  He wrapped a gloved hand around the crank and lifted it free of its locked position.

“Everybody ready?” he said.  The others nodded, and Knile began to work the handcar forward, slowly at first, but then at a more rapid clip.

The sweepdrone disappeared behind them, and Knile turned his attention to the track ahead, wondering when their destination might come into sight.

After an hour of pumping the handcar forward, Knile’s arms felt as though they were made of lead, and he reluctantly allowed Tobias to take a turn at the crank.  Wringing out his hands, he dropped back to check on Lazarus.  Ursie watched on from where she lay nearby.

“Have you checked him lately?” he asked her, feeling at Lazarus’ neck for a pulse.

“Yeah, a little while back.  He’s not letting go.  Not yet, at least.”

“Tough bastard.”  Knile slumped back, exhausted.  “What do you see when you look inside his head?  Is he dreaming?”

“I just see light.  Distant light.  It’s hard to explain.”

“Is that what you see when you look in mine, too?”

Ursie scowled.  “I can’t look inside your head anymore, remember?  Not unless I’m touching you.”

“But when you could, was I like that?”

She sat up and scrubbed at her eyes.  “I don’t know, I…”  She shrugged.  “Everyone’s different.  Their thoughts are shaped in their own way.  It’s like how each person has a different sounding voice, a face that’s uniquely their own.  That’s the best way I can put it.”

“I guess it’s something you can’t really understand unless you experience it yourself.”

“Yeah.”

There was a crackling sound, and Knile lifted the longwave from his belt, turning up the volume.

“Knile, we… out of the Reach,”
came Talia’s fragmented voice.

“Talia?  Can you hear me?”

“We’re okay.  We’re… Silvestri’s contact off-world… over to Bagley’s to see… fastest way to get to Sunspire.”

“Talia, you’re breaking up.  Say again?”

“Knile?”

“Talia, can you hear me?”

There was no response, and then the connection seemed to go dead.  Knile could only look helplessly across at Ursie.

“What was all that about?” she said.

“I heard Bagley’s name in there.  That’s Talia’s old employer.  He’s in the dirigible business, so I guess that’s how they’re planni
ng to get across the lowlands.”

“Is that going to work?”

Knile shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine.  Talia has some experience in piloting those things, so why not?”

“Not much point worrying about them, is it?  Not when we have our own problems.”

“Yeah.  They’ll get it sorted out.  Talia knows what she’s doing.”

Ursie lay down again and sighed.  “What are we going to do when we get there, Knile?  Even if we can get inside this Sunspire place, how are we going to get it working?”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“What if we don’t?”

“Then we’ll proba
bly die.  But at least we’ll go
knowing that we gave it our best goddamn shot.”

Ursie scowled at him.  “Is that supposed to be encouraging?  Because it’s not.”

“I can give you the happily ever after version if that will make you feel better.”

“Pass.  Right now I’d just like to–”

“Land, ho!” Tobias called suddenly.

Knile looked and saw something ahead, what seemed like a solid wall blocking the tunnel.  Alarmed, he got to his feet and ran to the front of the handcar to get a better look.

“What is it?” he said to Tobias.

“The door to the way station.  Gotta be.”

“How do we get through?”

“Well, now.  That’s the interestin’ part, no?”

Tobias eased back on the crank, and the handcar slowed as it neared the door.  Knile alighted from the vehicle and strode forward eagerly, searching for a control panel.  Tobias locked the crank and then began to climb down, and as he did, a pained expression crept across his face.  He clutched awkwardly at his chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Knile said, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Fine, fine,” Tobias said dismissively, brushing him aside.  “The ol’ ticker has stood up to worse than this in its day.”

“What’s going on?” Ursie said as she reached them.

“Tobias has taken his last shift on the crank,” Knile said, inwardly cursing himself for allowing the old man to take over the job.  “I’ll handle the physical work from now on.”

“Rubbish,” Tobias said.  His hand dropped away from his chest, and he straightened indignantly.  “I’ve never turn
ed my back on a hard day’s work in my damn life–”

He stopped, sensing something, and then a tremendous cracking sound – like that of a glacier shedding a great chunk of itself – scattered across the tunnel.  The Skywalk shuddered, and the walls seemed to shift around them.  They all turned as one and looked back along the tunnel in the direction in which they had come.

“The decay.  It’s accelerating,” Knile said, a feeling of dread seeping into his bones.  “The Skywalk is going to fall out from under our feet if we don’t hurry up.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Ursie said, turning back to the way station door.  “Let’s get this thing open.”

Knile glanced up at the door.  It was an imposing structure, comprised of a series of interlocking steel segments that were arranged both horizontally and vertically.  Tobias made a bee-line for a panel on one side and flicked it open.

“Here,” he said.  “This is the controller, but…”  He thumped on the buttons.  “The damn thing’s as dark as a barrel of molasses.”

Knile stepped over to take a look, tapping at the screen and pressing buttons, but he too had no success in his attempts to get the control panel activated.

“No power,” he said.  “Again.”  There was a thud in the tunnel behind them, followed by a series of scraping and grinding sounds.  A few moments later, another eddy of wind swirled menacingly around them.

“Whatever you’re going to do,” Ursie said, “you better do it quick.”

Knile began to look about for other ideas, then spotted a handle embedded in a cavity in
the far wall.  It was surrounded by yellow and black striped hazard markings.  Underneath was written
Emergency Door Release
.

“How the hell did we miss that!” he exclaimed, moving over to the handle and gripping it with both deerskin gloves.  He gave it a sharp tug.

The handle didn’t budge.

He pulled again, this time with all of his might.  The cords on his neck bulged, and his arms felt as though they might be torn from their sockets at any moment.  He cried out, giving it everything that he had, but it was no use.

“Take this,” Tobias said urgently, handing him a hammer from his toolkit.  Knile took it and steadied his aim, then began to pummel the handle, raining down blows upon it with all the ferocity he could muster.  After twenty or more blows he began to slow, and then he relented.

He slumped back, exhausted.

“God
dammit!
” he yelled, panting.  “It’s not budging.  It’s completely seized up.”

“Then we might be lookin’ at a whole world of hurt, here,” Tobias said.

Ursie, who was standing nearby and looking up at the door, suddenly cried out in surprise.

“Look!” she said, pointing.  “Someone’s in there!”

Knile moved over to her side, perplexed, still trying to regather his breath.

“What?  That’s impossible.”

“No, I saw a face.  Right there!”  She pointed again, and Knile could see a small, featureless circle of reflective material in the door.  It seemed opaque, however, and he doubted it was even a window.

“I don’t see anything, Ursie.”

“It was there, I swear it!”  She moved closer and started waving her hands before the door.  “Help!” she called at the top of her lungs.  “Let us in!  Please!”

Knile glanced about desperately.  Their options seemed to have evaporated.  He climbed up onto the handcar, hoping to find a different perspective, and saw Lazarus still lying there, oblivious to what was going on around him.  Knile’s backpack was there, as well as the container of water, but none of those things would help get them through the doorway.

He looked back toward the way station, at the seemingly impenetrable barrier that stood in their way.  On the floor below, the handcar track ended abruptly at its base.

An idea came to him.  A stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless.

“Help me shift Lazarus,” he said to the others, moving to the rear of the handcar.  He dug his fingers under the Redman’s back and began to roll him toward the edge.

“What are you doing?” Ursie said.

“I’m going to ram the door with the handcar.”

Ursie stared at him, shocked.  “You’re
what?
”

“I’m going to ram it.  If I hit it hard enough, it might knock one of the panels loose.  Give us a gap to crawl through.”

“You leave a gap in that wall,” Tobias said, “and the way station will decompress once this segment breaks off.”

“That’s why we’ll have to be out the other side by the time that happens,” Knile said.  He grunted as he shoved Lazarus over the side of the handcar, unceremoniously dumping him on the floor with a thud.  “Sorry, buddy,” he added.