‘My god, it looks like a battlefield down there,’ Crystal peered ahead through the helicopter’s Plexiglas front.
‘I’ve just picked up a transmission,’ the pilot said. He hadn’t responded to the earlier warning, but he hadn’t shut the radio off either. ‘The army are scrambling a helicopter to intercept us.’
‘Better make this quick then. Is that link up?’ she called over her shoulder.
Eric, who was practically hanging out the door with his camera, gave her a thumbs-up.
She picked up a microphone, checked it was live, took a breath and began.
A dozen kilometres away, Em and Frank Townsend stood in the lounge giving descriptions of each of the children to the policewoman. The TV was still on, the volume low, but they heard the announcement. ‘We interrupt this programme to bring you a live report from the South Island.’
Banners at the bottom of the screen read Live! and Exclusive! and Breaking News! The picture showed an aerial view of what looked like a war-torn battlefield with figures running about on it. There were explosions and incoming fire and a shiny circular object that seemed to be the focus of all the attention.
The voice-over was shouted above the thrum of a helicopter. ‘This is Crystal Starbrite reporting live, approximately twenty kilometres from the town of Rata in Southland ...’
Frank Townsend snorted. ‘That’s West Coast, you chump.’
* * *
‘Backup stabilisers coming on line.’
‘Finally! Resume the attack.’
* * *
Alkemy didn’t stop to think. She abandoned Norman and raced back as a volley of shots struck the ship. From the corner of her eye she saw its shields flicker yellow.
Tim was staggering and flailing, a flaming mass from head to foot. She headed straight towards him, ignoring the heat and the smell of burning flesh, and cannoned into him, hard, shoulder to shoulder, knocking him to ground. He fell, face forward, the flames on his front immediately smothered as she dived in beside him, rolling him quickly to smother the ones still crackling on his back.
Coral arrived seconds later with Ludokrus in tow, still blinking blearily through gritty eyes. Both gasped in shock at what they saw.
Coral clamped a hand to her mouth. The blackened shape looked barely human.
‘Who ... was it?’
Alkemy felt for a pulse. More shots landed nearby. Red-hot rocky shrapnel whizzed past them.
‘Is,’ she snapped. ‘Is Tim.’ She looked up. Judged the distance to the ship. ‘Must move him there. Quick.’
Coral turned to Ludokrus. ‘Can you manage on your own?’ He nodded and hobbled off.
For a moment, Coral was arrested by the sight of Norman Smith sitting on the ship’s extended ramp. It clearly wanted to withdraw it and kept making attempts to do so. More shots were coming in and striking its shields, but his presence was preventing it from closing up again and he rode the ramp like it was a bucking bronco.
‘Stay where you are!’ she yelled. ‘Hold on!’
Guided by Alkemy, Coral slipped her hands beneath Tim’s armpits, trying to avoid the sight of his awful burns. She hesitated, fearing that lifting him might make his injuries worse, but when a small explosion nearby pelted them with scorching rubble it helped make up her mind.
With Alkemy clutching his ankles, they half-carried, half-dragged Tim to the ship.
‘This thing’s trying to get rid of me,’ Norman said, grimly clinging to the ramp as it gave another lurch.
‘Smart ship,’ Coral snapped as three shots ploughed the ground nearby. ‘Now get out of the way!’
He scuttled ahead and they followed, dragging Tim up the smooth surface.
Inside, it was almost peaceful. Except for a warning chime and a featureless voice that intoned, ‘Non-Eltherian presences detected. Please expel.’
The ramp, which had started retracting, extended again.
‘They are friend,’ Alkemy yelled, but the ship repeated its message. As far as it was concerned, it was under attack by an unknown craft. Now, unknown creatures were swarming aboard it.
Outside, the maelstrom continued.
They carried Tim to one of the dozen gel beds arranged end-to-end around the perimeter of the craft and lowered him into the semi-liquid goo. It closed around him as Alkemy pressed a walrus-like mask to his face.
Coral remembered the gel beds from the old escape pod. The way they enclosed and protected the occupant while at the same time giving their mind access to the outside world. But mostly she remembered how they’d helped Glad Smith recover from a nasty bullet wound. Was there time to do the same for Tim?
‘Is OK to let go,’ Alkemy said gently. Coral realised she’d been holding on to his hand as if holding on to life itself.
Alkemy closed the lid.
Coral looked around and found herself in a circular space with a domed ceiling and a dished floor, all bathed in cool blue light. Inside the circle of beds was a circular seating area, itself arranged around a low but complicated-looking console where Ludokrus sat, his eyes still streaming, working the controls.
‘Non-Eltherian presences detected. Please expel,’ the ship repeated.
‘Cannot override,’ he said. ‘She will not go with you on board.’
There was a scraping sound from somewhere overhead and a red light started flashing.
‘Shield integrity twelve percent and falling,’ the ship said. ‘Evacuation recommended.’
Ludokrus banged a fist on the console. ‘Will not even go to protect herself!’
More shots came in. Rasping screeches now. The blue lights flickered. The flashing red intensified. A second alarm started. An insistent klaxon.
‘Told you,’ Norman said. ‘It really hates me.’
There was a shudder. The ship tilted. ‘Shield failure. Destruction imminent,’ the voice said calmly. ‘All personnel are advised to evacuate.’
Every shot now felt like a physical blow striking the unprotected hull.
‘What can we do?’ Coral cried. ‘We can go, but we can’t take Tim.’
Ludokrus looked at her helplessly through red-rimmed eyes.
‘Shields gone. Hull integrity twenty-two percent and falling.’
‘Ha! Look.’ Norman pointed at the console. ‘Another one.’
Coral glanced at him. He was unsteady on his feet and his words were slurred. Still concussed from the falling timbers, she guessed. What could he possibly mean?
She looked in spite of herself.
‘It’s another socket,’ she yelled. ‘Like on the receiver!’
Ludokrus squinted, still trying to focus, but Alkemy had already launched herself towards it, one hand reaching to her shirt pocket.
‘Hull temperature at critical failure point. Evacuation imperative.’
She jammed the memory bulb into the socket. For an instant, nothing happened. Then it was drawn from her fingers and vanished beneath a small sliding hatch in the top of the console. She staggered back, horrified, staring at her empty hand as the attack on the ship continued.
‘Albert! Albert!’ she wailed. ‘What have I done?’
More shots struck the hull. There was a shuddering creak from somewhere overhead, then a speaker crackled and a familiar voice said, ‘You called?’