Vila wondered if it was too late to escape the limpet bombs. They scratched and scraped their way across the hull toward him. Their antennae twitched as they sought out their targets. He and Jenna were only part way to the airlock door, and the creatures had already closed in. One of them perked up on spindly legs, eyed him with its antennae, and then exploded in a ball of flame.
Vila reeled back, throwing his hands up to ward off the explosion. He heard a spattering of fragments strike his helmet. It was a disconcerting noise from outside his personal bubble in the quiet of space. He rolled forward, over and over, away from the blast. He was frightened that his suit might be holed. Even more terrified that he would bounce away from the hull and vanish helplessly into space. Tumbling forever, until the air in his suit was exhausted and he died a cold, lonely death.
‘Vila!’ Jenna’s concerned shout brought him back to reality. And grabbing a nearby handle brought him back into contact with the hull. He had rolled within reach of the airlock. Jenna was forty metres behind him.
He tried to calm down, so that he could listen for tell-tale suit alarms or a sudden, increased rush of air. All he could hear was the sudden, increased rush of his own breathing. And then Jenna’s voice again.
‘Vila, you’re all right. It wasn’t close enough to rip your hull suit.’ And then, in case he’d forgotten: ‘Open the airlock door!’
He stared back at her. The first thing he noticed was a fine line across his helmet. Not a reflection of the Liberator, as he first thought. When he focused more closely, there was a second line that stretched to meet it. With a thrill of horror, he recognised that there was a crack in the visor of his helmet.
Beyond that, the limpet mines had moved into the gap between him and Jenna. The nearest was only a metre away. It had popped up on its stilt-like legs, and slowly rotated to survey the area. Vila saw the dark circle where it had originally burrowed into the hull, its thin limbs still clinging to the torn metal.
He thought it should be easy to dislodge it, simply by activating his sub-atomic probe on one or two joints. But the probe was not in his toolkit. Because he’d handed it to Jenna earlier, when she offered to help him.
The creature turned to look directly at him. Assessing him before it blew up in his face, Vila supposed.
Well, he wasn’t prepared to let that happen. He seized his toolkit by the strap, swung it in an ungainly circle around his body, and slammed it against the alien. The antennae shot protectively back into the creature’s body, but it didn’t compress its legs fast enough. The toolkit slammed into its side with a very gratifying thump. The thin legs buckled and bent. Vila gave the toolkit another great heave, and this time the blow severed the creature from its legs, and it tumbled off into the darkness.
Vila looked for Jenna. She was still some distance away. ‘Get to the airlock!’
‘What about you?’ He reattached his toolkit, and hesitated. Should he help Jenna clear a path through the limpet mines so that she could reach him? Or turn and open the airlock?
The urgency of his decision was underlined as another alien ignited twenty metres from him, between him and Jenna. The light that blossomed from it didn’t fade as fast as the others. He wondered whether that was an after-image of the flare, until he worked it out. Beyond the exploded alien, and far behind Jenna too, an aurora of light was building over the horizon.
‘The flare shield,’ he gasped. ‘It’s like a wave! Cresting over the hull!’
Jenna didn’t look back. ‘Stop admiring it and start avoiding it!’
‘Watch out for those alien ticks,’ he warned her. ‘They’re everywhere. Converging on us.’ He scuttled backwards as best he could, towards the airlock.
Avon’s voice crackled and spat in his helmet. ‘Hurry up, you two. Another alien ship is approaching.’
‘I see it!’ acknowledged Jenna. ‘Go on Vila. Get inside!’
He’d reached the airlock door, and managed to bat away another limpet mine. Vila scrabbled at the hatch, panicking that he couldn’t find a handle in its smooth, sealed surface. ‘I’m at the airlock, Avon. Open up!’
He looked back to locate Jenna. She had barely covered a further ten metres. The shield’s wave of energy washed over the hull behind her, towards her, a tsunami of power that tore up the limpet mines and discarded them indiscriminately in every direction.
And above that, an alien spaceship closed in. It was the size of a planet hopper, but shaped like no ship Vila had ever seen before. Its lines were not like any conventional vessel. It wasn’t even symmetrical. The surface glistened with an oscillating pulse of lights in a melting, changing melange of colours, like oil on water. It loomed ominously over Jenna.
‘Vila,’ she said. She had no need to shout, because she knew he could hear her over the comms. It made her voice sound unnaturally calm. ‘Don’t let these things in with you!’
An abrupt movement told Vila that the airlock door had dropped away beneath him. Even from where she was, Jenna must have seen this.
‘Get inside!’
‘Then hurry up,’ he told her as he began to climb in through the hatch.
Jenna wasn’t making up any new ground. In fact, it looked like she had stopped moving forward at all. Alien limpets were closing in on her from three sides.
‘I have a better idea. Close the door behind you!’
‘I can’t leave you!’ Vila no longer cared that he was shouting. Almost every instinct told him to dive back inside Liberator to safety. But a tiny part of him was urging the opposite – to go back and rescue Jenna, despite the overwhelming odds.
Fresh light crested over the hull. The surface vibrated with a further burst of energy. The crack in Vila’s visor looked to have a fresh fracture joining the other two.
‘You have to go. Close the door!’
Vila watched her stand up, unsteadily, and turn her back on him. She had made her decision. She wasn’t hiding from the oncoming threats of the shield wave and the bizarre alien ship. Jenna was facing them down, right to the end.
Vila looked away, appalled. Around him, alien limpets scuttled closer on their gangling legs, and surrounded the airlock door.
He dropped down below the hull, and whacked the door control on the inner wall. The hatchway above him sealed with a clunk he could feel through his boots.
The wall gauge showed air was rapidly pumping into the airlock. It wasn’t long before the room repressurised, and Vila could open the inner door.
He didn’t go straight through it. Instead, he slumped down onto the airlock floor and tugged off his cracked helmet, ripped away his gloves and flung them to one side of the room. There was a skittering, scratching sound, but he didn’t care what he’d damaged.
He put his face in his hands, his breath coming in great heaving gulps.
‘Oh Jenna. What have I done?’