Tallamainian freighter, ocean floor, Dresse, Dresse system
Bache almost tripped and fell twice as he and Malic descended the stairwell on the way back to the airlock.
‘What the hell caused that?’ Bache called, as they approached the bottom of the stairs.
‘A large explosion on the seabed somewhere behind us,’ replied Zaphir. ‘The shockwave moved the freighter about five metres.’
‘I assume it wasn’t an undersea vent or anything?’ he asked.
‘Unlikely, seeing it was so localised and powerful. I think someone up top is trying to finish the job.’
‘The bloody suit curse strikes again,’ Bache grouched to himself, as he pulled the second suit out of its container and began helping Malic climb painfully into it.
‘I’ve never worn one of these before,’ she said, grimacing as her bad arm complained bitterly.
They both staggered as the ship lurched again, only this time it was slightly less violent.
‘Whoever it is, doesn’t know exactly where we are,’ said Bache. ‘Their scans don’t penetrate this deep in an ocean. We need to get a wriggle on before they get lucky.’
Activating her suit, he made sure it was showing greens across the board before securing her helmet, and then his own.
‘Follow me and do exactly what I do,’ he said, leading her into the airlock and closing the inner door. He pushed her against the side wall and pointed to the rail. ‘Hang onto that as tight as you can.’
The water gushed in as violently as before and he heard Malic cry out as she was engulfed in a maelstrom of cloudy water this time. He turned on his suit lights, only unlike before, he couldn’t see a hand in front of his face.
‘Shit,’ he said. ‘The explosions have disturbed the seabed. Are you where you were before?’ he asked Zaphir.
‘I have no idea,’ she replied. ‘I can’t see shit either.’
‘Turn all the exterior lamps on, see if that helps,’ he said.
‘They already are,’ she replied.
‘Ah, crap—oh, wait, hang on. Transmit again and keep the signal on even if you’re not saying anything.’
‘Transmitting now,’ she said.
Bache flipped through the suit’s operations menu until he found what he was looking for and activated it.
‘Swim with me,’ he said to Malic. ‘Do not lose me.’
The transmission locator winked on his visor display, showing the gunship to be about fifty metres away, slightly higher and off to the left.
‘Can you see me and do you need me to move?’ said Zaphir. ‘I’m just going to stop transmitting for a moment to let you answer.’
The locator vanished.
‘Come to port and down a bit,’ he said.
‘Moving now,’ she replied.
Bache kept swimming and checking Malic was still with him, until suddenly he realised the locator icon was moving further away.
Shit, the gunship’s the wrong way round, he thought.
He had to wait until she stopped again.
‘Is that better?’ she asked, stopping the transmission again.
‘Wrong way, Zaffie,’ he said. ‘Turn the ship through one eighty to bring the airlock round to the right side and then go to port for twice as long as before.’
‘Oh, understood,’ she said, the disappointment evident in her voice.
The third explosion couldn’t have come at a worse time and was closer too. Bache found himself thrust violently sideways and tumbling randomly. He waved his arms around trying to find Malic, to no avail. Just as he thought it couldn’t get any worse, an alarm started pinging in his ears.
‘Ah, crap, no,’ he said to himself. ‘Fucking suit’s leaking now.’
‘Bache, Bache, can you hear me?’ called a rather stressed Zaphir.
‘I can,’ he said. ‘My suit’s leaking and I’ve lost Malic. Transmit for ten seconds and move forward slowly so I can locate you and your direction.’
‘Okay, okay, I’m moving forward now, let me know how far I am away and what direction you want me to go.’
‘I need you to turn ninety degrees to starboard and come forward twice as fast as you’re going now for about twenty seconds. Look out for Malic on your way,’ he said.
‘Coming now,’ she said.
Bache could feel one of his feet and legs were getting damp, but the signal was getting closer this time, so he began swimming in that direction. Suddenly and without warning something hit him hard in the chest.
‘Oof,’ he grunted, as all the wind was knocked out of him. Looking down, he found he was being pushed along by what looked like the leading edge of one of the gunship’s winglets.
Finally, after a few seconds the ship stopped.
‘Are you close now?’ asked Zaphir and stopped transmitting.
‘Stay right where you are,’ he said, paddling and feeling his way around the ship to the airlock. ‘Malic, Malic, can you hear me?’ he called, as he hauled himself into the still-open outer door. No answer came.
Shit, he thought. All this effort and now I’ve lost her.
‘Bache, where are you?’ called Zaphir.
‘In the airlock, I’m about to come inside.’
‘Stay there—I’ve found Malic.’
‘Where is she? I’ll go get her.’
‘She’s right in front of the cockpit window.’
‘Wave to her to come round this side and I’ll be waiting to pull her in.’
‘She doesn’t seem to be conscious.’
‘Crap,’ he said, eyeing his suit display as more red warning lights began flashing. ‘My suit’s compromised, I won’t be able to get round there and back.’
‘No, stay there,’ she said again. ‘I have an idea. Be ready to catch her.’
‘Why, what’re you plan—’
Before he could finish, the gunship began moving slowly forward and to starboard. Bache realised what Zaphir was attempting and hanging onto the outer door with one hand he leant out and grabbed around with the other. He knew she was an excellent pilot, but this was going to take a lot of delicacy, to run the unconscious Malic around the hull and bring the airlock to her.
Bache strained his eyes and thrashed his arm around like a mad man.
‘Come on, Malic,’ he shouted. ‘Where are—’
Something clipped the tip of his finger.
‘Zaffie, stop now,’ he called and plunged outwards.
For a moment there was nothing there and he wondered if he had imagined it, or it was just a bit of seabed churned up by the explosion. Then something hard hit him on the helmet. He grabbed out at it. It was a boot.
‘Oh, thank fuck for that,’ he said, hauling her down and back into the airlock. It took a lot of effort and his suit was dying quickly now. Shutting the outer door he quickly swam across to the inner door and hit the open toggle just as he could feel water sloshing around his neck.
They were both washed inside the gunship as the inner door powered open and distributed them in a pile of arms and legs. Bache quickly unfastened his helmet as he got a mouth full of salty water. He reached over and did the same to Malic. She immediately came to as her helmet was wrenched off and cried out as the pain from her injured arm overwhelmed her.
He ran to the stairway and shouted up to the cockpit as his suit comms had died.
‘Go, Zaffie,’ he called. ‘Get us away from the freighter.’
He heard her reply but couldn’t make out what she said.
He had to grab hold of an auto trundle as another nearby detonation caused the gunship to lurch sideways. Malic cried out in pain again and swore profusely as she rolled sideways, her bad arm banging up against the inner airlock door.
The small ship groaned and creaked as the water pressure subjected the hull to stresses it wasn’t designed for and the unusual dampened thrum from the one good antigrav motor echoed around the loading bay.
Bache stripped off his waterlogged suit before helping Malic out of hers. They were both shivering with cold, so he dug out some blankets from one of the many lockers to wrap around themselves.
‘You look like homeless refugees,’ said Zaphir, as they arrived in the cockpit. ‘Hi, I’m Zaphir,’ she added, giving Malic a quick glance as she concentrated on keeping the gunship in a straight line.
‘Hello,’ Malic replied, staring out the front screen as the ocean floor rushed by. ‘I understand I owe you my life.’
‘Ah—we’re not out of the woods yet,’ she said. ‘We’ve got to avoid whoever it is up there for a while.’
‘Can’t we just get back into space and jump away?’ Malic asked.
Zaphir shook her head.
‘Engine trouble,’ said Bache. ‘We need to hide for a few hours until—’
The sound of hissing behind them and an alarm siren cut him off mid-sentence.
‘Ah, shit—it’s a hull breach,’ said Zaphir. ‘We’re letting in water below.’
‘Crap,’ iterated Bache. ‘We need to go up where there’s less pressure quickly. Do we have cloaking?’
‘Wadda you think?’ said Zaphir, turning to roll her eyes at him.
‘How far away from the freighter are we?’
‘A few kilometres now.’
‘Let’s have a quick peek up above and see who’s around,’ said Bache, sliding into the co-pilot’s seat and pointing Malic towards one of the bulkhead seats.
‘Who are they?’ asked Malic.
‘We were kinda hoping you’d be able to tell us,’ said Zaphir, as she steered the ship upwards towards the surface.
It didn’t take long to get there and Zaphir turned them one hundred and eighty degrees before popping the cockpit above the surface to see if whatever had been attacking them was still visible behind.
As the water cleared away from the screen, they all peered out and scanned the horizon.
‘Nothing,’ said Zaphir.
‘Perhaps they’ve given up,’ said Malic.
‘Why are we in shadow?’ asked Bache, noticing the cloudless sky. ‘Spin the ship around quickly.’
The gunship turned ponderously in its half-submerged state.
‘Oh, shit,’ said Zaphir, as a large dark purple and black vessel swung into view, hanging stationary about a hundred metres above. It loomed in over them as multiple weapons pods motored out menacingly from its six large winglets.
‘They were following us all along,’ said Bache.
‘What do we do?’ asked Malic.