around the rock and the stuff of the ceiling.
The leak was stemmed. ‘Nobody,’ Jac gasped, ‘nobody knock this stone.’
This eventuality had not improved matters, though. The air pressure had been lowered even further, which made everybody yet more breathless. Even the simplest action had become massively
laborious and exhausting. For Gordius and Jac there was a single, wan upside, insofar as none of the alpha or beta males had the energy for sex. But the situation was desperate. If they failed to
find ice, they would all die soon. It was as simple as that.
So they dug, wearily and inefficiently. They fell into narcoleptic sleeps whilst still operating the machinery.
Day followed day.
Davide, fretfully, blamed E-d-C for this infelicitous turn of events. ‘Why did you think the seal would be a good material to put the schute through, man?’ he said. ‘You
can see the schute’s designed for rock.’
‘Shut up,’ gasped E-d-C.
‘ You shut up! Your stupidity is choking us all!’
E-d-C growled, plucked a rock from the air, drew his arm back. Davide flinched, visibly, but didn’t back down. ‘Go on then,’ he snarled.
E-d-C’s eyebrows went up. You could see the muscles in his neck tense as he readied himself.
‘Hey!’ yelled Lwon.
Both men snapped their gazes round.
‘Let it go, Ennemi,’ said Lwon, speaking clearly.
Everybody looked from Lwon to E-d-C. ‘I asked ,’ he said. ‘I asked everybody. I said, shall I try it? Everybody said, yes. You all said so.’
‘None of us said not to,’ said Davide. ‘That’s not the same thing.’
E-d-C’s eyes widened; he glared at Davide, as at a betrayer. ‘This little man doesn’t get to rebuke me .’ He held the rock up, and drew his arm back.
‘Let it go,’ said Lwon, enunciating each word with precision.
E-d-C turned his eyes on Lwon. His face had fallen. Nobody in the space could mistake the look of hurt in his eyes.
Lwon returned his gaze, levelly.
Jac watched with interest.
‘Let it go,’ Lwon said again.
E-d-C unwrapped his fingers from around the rock, and left it hanging in mid-air. ‘The celebrated arresting officer Bar-le-duc never came within one AU of you ,’ he said. Then
he pushed himself, wearily, away and went back into the tunnel. Shortly the sound of a digger started up.
Jac went back to polishing his glass. The piece was pretty much there. Rough at the rim, but that didn’t matter. He looked up. Marit was having an animated conversation with Davide. Jac
was struck by the scene: Davide happened to be floating in the same orientation as Jac. Marit’s body, however, was one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees turned about, his mouth near Davide’s
ear. The oddity of the orientation, and the almost but not quite audible murmuring, gave the scene a diabolic quality. Perhaps the paucity of oxygen in the air that added the shimmery, hellfreeze
atmosphere to it.
Time moved on. The black walls darkened in hue. They became essence of black, a perfectly scorched black. They burned, they gleamed, they shined with black. The colour was the truth about the
universe. This cosmos that had gleamed for some hundreds of thousands of years with Big Bang light, and now existed in the scorched carbon of the afterburn.
The lid on his box rattled and bulged.
There was nothing to do but hope for water, or they would all die there. Jac considered: there were worse things that could happen than him dying. Of course, there were much better things
too.
He tucked the piece of glass away under his tunic. If they didn’t find ice soon, it wouldn’t matter, and none of it would matter, and nothing would matter ever again. That thought
was almost restful. The thought hardly disaffected him at all; although it did disaffect him a tiny bit, in the Will at the heart of his being. And he wanted at least to have finished his window.
His miniature window. Tiny little window.
Any of them could rip the temporary seal away from the hole in the
The leak was stemmed. ‘Nobody,’ Jac gasped, ‘nobody knock this stone.’
This eventuality had not improved matters, though. The air pressure had been lowered even further, which made everybody yet more breathless. Even the simplest action had become massively
laborious and exhausting. For Gordius and Jac there was a single, wan upside, insofar as none of the alpha or beta males had the energy for sex. But the situation was desperate. If they failed to
find ice, they would all die soon. It was as simple as that.
So they dug, wearily and inefficiently. They fell into narcoleptic sleeps whilst still operating the machinery.
Day followed day.
Davide, fretfully, blamed E-d-C for this infelicitous turn of events. ‘Why did you think the seal would be a good material to put the schute through, man?’ he said. ‘You
can see the schute’s designed for rock.’
‘Shut up,’ gasped E-d-C.
‘ You shut up! Your stupidity is choking us all!’
E-d-C growled, plucked a rock from the air, drew his arm back. Davide flinched, visibly, but didn’t back down. ‘Go on then,’ he snarled.
E-d-C’s eyebrows went up. You could see the muscles in his neck tense as he readied himself.
‘Hey!’ yelled Lwon.
Both men snapped their gazes round.
‘Let it go, Ennemi,’ said Lwon, speaking clearly.
Everybody looked from Lwon to E-d-C. ‘I asked ,’ he said. ‘I asked everybody. I said, shall I try it? Everybody said, yes. You all said so.’
‘None of us said not to,’ said Davide. ‘That’s not the same thing.’
E-d-C’s eyes widened; he glared at Davide, as at a betrayer. ‘This little man doesn’t get to rebuke me .’ He held the rock up, and drew his arm back.
‘Let it go,’ said Lwon, enunciating each word with precision.
E-d-C turned his eyes on Lwon. His face had fallen. Nobody in the space could mistake the look of hurt in his eyes.
Lwon returned his gaze, levelly.
Jac watched with interest.
‘Let it go,’ Lwon said again.
E-d-C unwrapped his fingers from around the rock, and left it hanging in mid-air. ‘The celebrated arresting officer Bar-le-duc never came within one AU of you ,’ he said. Then
he pushed himself, wearily, away and went back into the tunnel. Shortly the sound of a digger started up.
Jac went back to polishing his glass. The piece was pretty much there. Rough at the rim, but that didn’t matter. He looked up. Marit was having an animated conversation with Davide. Jac
was struck by the scene: Davide happened to be floating in the same orientation as Jac. Marit’s body, however, was one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees turned about, his mouth near Davide’s
ear. The oddity of the orientation, and the almost but not quite audible murmuring, gave the scene a diabolic quality. Perhaps the paucity of oxygen in the air that added the shimmery, hellfreeze
atmosphere to it.
Time moved on. The black walls darkened in hue. They became essence of black, a perfectly scorched black. They burned, they gleamed, they shined with black. The colour was the truth about the
universe. This cosmos that had gleamed for some hundreds of thousands of years with Big Bang light, and now existed in the scorched carbon of the afterburn.
The lid on his box rattled and bulged.
There was nothing to do but hope for water, or they would all die there. Jac considered: there were worse things that could happen than him dying. Of course, there were much better things
too.
He tucked the piece of glass away under his tunic. If they didn’t find ice soon, it wouldn’t matter, and none of it would matter, and nothing would matter ever again. That thought
was almost restful. The thought hardly disaffected him at all; although it did disaffect him a tiny bit, in the Will at the heart of his being. And he wanted at least to have finished his window.
His miniature window. Tiny little window.
Any of them could rip the temporary seal away from the hole in the
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